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Tamír Triad #3
The Oracle's Queen
Under the rule of a usurper king, the realm of Skala has suffered famine, plague, and invasion. But now the time for the rightful heir has come, a return to the tradition of warrior queens. And the Lightbearer’s prophecy is to be upheld at so long as a daughter of the royal line defends and rules, Skala will never be subjugated.Now a mystical fire has burned away the male body known as Prince Tobin, revealing Princess Tamír, a girl on the verge of womanhood–and a queen ready to claim her birthright after a life in disguise under the protection of wizards and witches. But will her people, her army–and the friends she was forced to deceive–accept her? Worse, will the crown’s rival heir, friend to Tobin, turn foe to Tamír, igniting civil war in a fierce battle for Skala?From the Paperback edition.
576 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 27, 2006
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 346 reviews
February 20, 2025
Well, this is now a new favourite series of all time.
June 15, 2012
Oh my goodness, this had to be one of the most satisfying conclusions to a trilogy that I have ever read. It involved me fist pumping, beaming, reading breathlessly, awwing and you know, the whole spectrum of emotions. It was so so good to see Tamir come into her own as a woman, as a soldier and as a queen. It was very easy for me to forget that she was a mere fifteen at the time because the way she was written, seemed to be at least in her twenties. But experiences age a person far more and the incongruousness between Tamir’s voice and her age didn’t upset me at all. I had been afraid that Tamir’s character may develop Mary Sue-ish qualities in the last novel but I was wrong and she continues to display the same enchanting mixture of vulnerability and world-weariness that suits her position. She doesn’t stop growing in this last installment and her inability to move in the predicted lines of past rulers keeps the narrative fresh and intriguing.
I also really really appreciated how Flewelling dealt with Niryn. At first I thought it was somewhat anticlimactic and then I realized that Niryn was an instrument of the conflict but not the conflict itself. And the irony of Niryn’s fate was not lost on me. It is the subtlety that plays in the narrative, enjoining one event to another, one coincidence to another fact that makes the overall story so very readable. All the characters retain their greyness and I liked how Tamir manages to stay good and not become sanctimonious. The novel has a huge cast of characters – even more than the usual novel since it is the third installment in a trilogy but Flewelling manages to keep them all real in that they could really exist. Her characterizations are wonderful.
One of my favourite parts of the novel was how the romance between Ki and Tamir is approached. I loved how it wasn’t an instant attraction and culmination of that attraction. Flewelling spends time in developing and portraying the necessary confusion that arises when your best friend becomes a girl and you find yourself seeing him in ways that you don’t necessarily want to.
I would recommend this trilogy to anyone who likes high fantasy. I think you could easily term this one of the better young adult high fantasy trilogies (though it is not exactly marketed in that way, it can be seen as part of the YA genre since its protagonists are young adults, I think). The trilogy is more complex and more mature than what is normal to the genre but I think this is a good thing rather than bad. Read this especially if you like strong heroines with a dash of vulnerability and wonderful world building. Strongly recommended.
I also really really appreciated how Flewelling dealt with Niryn. At first I thought it was somewhat anticlimactic and then I realized that Niryn was an instrument of the conflict but not the conflict itself. And the irony of Niryn’s fate was not lost on me. It is the subtlety that plays in the narrative, enjoining one event to another, one coincidence to another fact that makes the overall story so very readable. All the characters retain their greyness and I liked how Tamir manages to stay good and not become sanctimonious. The novel has a huge cast of characters – even more than the usual novel since it is the third installment in a trilogy but Flewelling manages to keep them all real in that they could really exist. Her characterizations are wonderful.
One of my favourite parts of the novel was how the romance between Ki and Tamir is approached. I loved how it wasn’t an instant attraction and culmination of that attraction. Flewelling spends time in developing and portraying the necessary confusion that arises when your best friend becomes a girl and you find yourself seeing him in ways that you don’t necessarily want to.
I would recommend this trilogy to anyone who likes high fantasy. I think you could easily term this one of the better young adult high fantasy trilogies (though it is not exactly marketed in that way, it can be seen as part of the YA genre since its protagonists are young adults, I think). The trilogy is more complex and more mature than what is normal to the genre but I think this is a good thing rather than bad. Read this especially if you like strong heroines with a dash of vulnerability and wonderful world building. Strongly recommended.
December 30, 2015
[7/10]
The conclusion to the Tamir Triad is a satisfying one, solving the war of succession for the throne of the Skalan Empire in a spectacular battle that shows how Lynn Flewelling is capable not only of creating interesting magic systems and of raising gender issues in a fantasy setting, but also of managing a furious and extended action sequence.
The road to this battle was sometimes slow though and took a lot of detours into romance and moral dillemas instead of nation re-building. I liked the young Queen Tamir a lot and sympathised over her struggle to become a woman after a childhood spent convinced she was a boy. Her companions and allies were also engaging and well drawn, but I was honestly expecting events to move at a faster pace than in the first two books. My expectations were also confounded by insistent hinting at a larger conflict with the Plenimarans, the neighboring nation of necromancers, a bigger war that was ultimately left pending for a later series.
The things that I liked in the first two books of the series are still here: carefully developed young characters that struggle with gender identity as they are undeniably attracted to one another (Tamir and Kyrothius); blood and ghost magic that is integral to the plot; some flashes of humour to relieve the dark theme; good writing that even if doesn't excell in metaphors or clever turns of phrase is nevertheless clear and evocative of the passions and dreams of the heroes of the story.
The things that bothered me before are also present : the continuing use of prophecy and predestination trumping free will; the generic villains; the predictability of the plot for all its original setting
I have been having trouble giving high ratings to final books in epic fantasy series before, so often that it made me think it is a personal issue of being more interested in the exploration of new worlds and new magics than in end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it wars or happy ever after conclusions. Flewelling managed to steer clear of both extremes, the grimdark and the Disneyland, and so she probably deserves more that the three stars here and a more detailed exploration of the gender issues central to this epic. The overall score for the Tamir Triad is actually an easy four star and I have no hesitation recommending it to fans of fantasy adventures looking for some originality and a bit of romance. I may be even interested to start on her second series, The Nightrunner , which I understand is set on the same world but on a different timeline. The only thing stopping me is that I'm not sure when this second series will be concluded.
The conclusion to the Tamir Triad is a satisfying one, solving the war of succession for the throne of the Skalan Empire in a spectacular battle that shows how Lynn Flewelling is capable not only of creating interesting magic systems and of raising gender issues in a fantasy setting, but also of managing a furious and extended action sequence.
The road to this battle was sometimes slow though and took a lot of detours into romance and moral dillemas instead of nation re-building. I liked the young Queen Tamir a lot and sympathised over her struggle to become a woman after a childhood spent convinced she was a boy. Her companions and allies were also engaging and well drawn, but I was honestly expecting events to move at a faster pace than in the first two books. My expectations were also confounded by insistent hinting at a larger conflict with the Plenimarans, the neighboring nation of necromancers, a bigger war that was ultimately left pending for a later series.
The things that I liked in the first two books of the series are still here: carefully developed young characters that struggle with gender identity as they are undeniably attracted to one another (Tamir and Kyrothius); blood and ghost magic that is integral to the plot; some flashes of humour to relieve the dark theme; good writing that even if doesn't excell in metaphors or clever turns of phrase is nevertheless clear and evocative of the passions and dreams of the heroes of the story.
The things that bothered me before are also present : the continuing use of prophecy and predestination trumping free will; the generic villains; the predictability of the plot for all its original setting
I have been having trouble giving high ratings to final books in epic fantasy series before, so often that it made me think it is a personal issue of being more interested in the exploration of new worlds and new magics than in end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it wars or happy ever after conclusions. Flewelling managed to steer clear of both extremes, the grimdark and the Disneyland, and so she probably deserves more that the three stars here and a more detailed exploration of the gender issues central to this epic. The overall score for the Tamir Triad is actually an easy four star and I have no hesitation recommending it to fans of fantasy adventures looking for some originality and a bit of romance. I may be even interested to start on her second series, The Nightrunner , which I understand is set on the same world but on a different timeline. The only thing stopping me is that I'm not sure when this second series will be concluded.
February 2, 2010
I thought The Tamir Triad was excellent. I must forewarn that the books should be read together because they really do form one story, not three stories that tie together.
I really liked the pacing of the story. With the exception of a rather lengthy discussion of the main villain's youth in the third book, it never lets up. Every action leads to the next in a realistic way.
I especially like how Flewelling dealt with the concept of gender identity, sexuality and growing up. Her protagonist is understandably mixed up and Flewelling handles it in a way that is quite believable. How much would it screw with a kid to grow up thinking he's a boy when she's really a girl? The Tamir Triad gives new meaning to "a boy trapped in a girl's body". I thought the issues surrounding Tobin/Tamir's puberty and adolescence were handled particularly well. It rang true and wasn't shocking in the least. The series had some great messages in it about friendship, love, compassion and understanding.
Although this is a series about a child/teen, it is absolutely an adult series, in my opinion. I recommend it for high school and older.
I really liked the pacing of the story. With the exception of a rather lengthy discussion of the main villain's youth in the third book, it never lets up. Every action leads to the next in a realistic way.
I especially like how Flewelling dealt with the concept of gender identity, sexuality and growing up. Her protagonist is understandably mixed up and Flewelling handles it in a way that is quite believable. How much would it screw with a kid to grow up thinking he's a boy when she's really a girl? The Tamir Triad gives new meaning to "a boy trapped in a girl's body". I thought the issues surrounding Tobin/Tamir's puberty and adolescence were handled particularly well. It rang true and wasn't shocking in the least. The series had some great messages in it about friendship, love, compassion and understanding.
Although this is a series about a child/teen, it is absolutely an adult series, in my opinion. I recommend it for high school and older.
February 19, 2010
I must point out that overall I would give the whole series 4-5 stars. I just find this book to be weak.
Let me start with what I didn't like. I found it strange that a book that is, in part, about a woman's strength, only has one young woman. While the two older woman, who had larger parts in the first two books, are well protrayed, Tamir is surronded by men and boys in this last book. This makes sense because she used to "be" a boy. Flewelling, however, brings back Una, but gives her such a small part and so little development that it is pointless to have her there. Una is the second least developed companion; the first would be Una's squire, who gets mentioned by name only twice. There is one female character of Tamir's age who gets some development and that is Tamir's opposing female blood claim rival. This girl is simply the girl in the tower. It's an interesting contrast, but it falls flat because the only girl who we see doing anything is Tamir, so it makes all the other girls look weak and idiotic. (It is also a little uncertain why Tamir will make a better ruler outside of the fact that she is a girl and a better general).
What I also had problems with was the simple good/evil sectioning of the sides in the Civil War. While Tamir's confusion is wonderfully protrayed, if I were a lord, I don't know if I would believe the whole "now he's a she" story. In many ways, this idea of doubt was brushed aside so quickly that it left me slightly uncomfortable. (Though, if you see this series as YA, then it can be forgiven this flaw). Additionally, there is one plot point that does not get the full development it needs (and no, I'm not talking about the bowl), and magic plays too much of a solving role.
Despite these flaws, Flewelling does a masterful job with her two central characters of Tamir and Ki. Their confusion about what has happened is believable and well done. One gets the sense that Flewelling found thier relationship more interesting than the battle for the kingdom. The relationship between the two makes up for the flaws in the novel and drives the novel onward.
Let me start with what I didn't like. I found it strange that a book that is, in part, about a woman's strength, only has one young woman. While the two older woman, who had larger parts in the first two books, are well protrayed, Tamir is surronded by men and boys in this last book. This makes sense because she used to "be" a boy. Flewelling, however, brings back Una, but gives her such a small part and so little development that it is pointless to have her there. Una is the second least developed companion; the first would be Una's squire, who gets mentioned by name only twice. There is one female character of Tamir's age who gets some development and that is Tamir's opposing female blood claim rival. This girl is simply the girl in the tower. It's an interesting contrast, but it falls flat because the only girl who we see doing anything is Tamir, so it makes all the other girls look weak and idiotic. (It is also a little uncertain why Tamir will make a better ruler outside of the fact that she is a girl and a better general).
What I also had problems with was the simple good/evil sectioning of the sides in the Civil War. While Tamir's confusion is wonderfully protrayed, if I were a lord, I don't know if I would believe the whole "now he's a she" story. In many ways, this idea of doubt was brushed aside so quickly that it left me slightly uncomfortable. (Though, if you see this series as YA, then it can be forgiven this flaw). Additionally, there is one plot point that does not get the full development it needs (and no, I'm not talking about the bowl), and magic plays too much of a solving role.
Despite these flaws, Flewelling does a masterful job with her two central characters of Tamir and Ki. Their confusion about what has happened is believable and well done. One gets the sense that Flewelling found thier relationship more interesting than the battle for the kingdom. The relationship between the two makes up for the flaws in the novel and drives the novel onward.
August 10, 2023
While the other books in the series always had something holding them back, this utilized the full potential and everything that was established previously. It was not only a satisfying ending but also explored new engaging conflicts. Getting to know these characters really payed off, as I was feeling for them as I never had before.
June 25, 2021
I had mixed feelings on the first two books in this series, but this final installment wrapped (almost) everything up so satisfyingly that I feel like it more than makes up for the not-quite-as-strong first two volumes. There are still aspects of how Flewelling handled Tamir's gender which I think could have been improved, but the story overall just felt so incredibly... whole and complete that it honestly doesn't feel as much like a weakness as it did before.
I think more than anything I appreciated the way that Flewelling took an immensely practical approach to the events of this book. The second installment ends with the status quo being completely destroyed - Tamir is revealed as a woman; the capital city is destroyed; the nominal crown prince has fled; and nobody knows where to go from here. This book starts slowly despite all that, and yet it feels more realistic, as Tamir starts to get her feet underneath her working on smaller logistical and strategic issues. The Oracle's Queen is very much concerned with the question of how to live up to destiny - how to be, not just the chosen ruler, but a good ruler. The way the story alternates between Tamir and Korin's encampments underscores this, as Korin makes fewer and fewer reasonable choices and Tamir learns how to balance what is right with what is practical.
That question, however, also leads me to the part of this book which got me thinking about how the fantasy genre treats the idea of the Rightful Heir. To be clear, this isn't a knock on Flewelling; the story she tells about rising to responsibility works within this framework, and I think the trope of a rightful or destined ruler can still have artistic/narrative value. But damn, did this story have some interesting implications.
The entire premise of the series is that there's a divine prophecy stating that Skala "will never be subjugated" as long as it is ruled by a queen of the royal line. At first, it seems like this just means they'll be conquered if the line of queens lapses, but Hidden Warrior showed us it's far worse than that: when the cast first travels to Atiyon, lands technically ruled by Tamir/Tobin, we find out that Atiyon has been spared both plague and famine - the implication being that they are protected since they are ruled by the true queen. The flip side of this is that the rest of the country - the rest of the ordinary people of Skala - are starving to death and dying of plague because they happen to be ruled by the wrong dude.
That's, uh. Really fucked up.
It completely changes the nature of the prophecy. Now it's not the god Ilior giving Skala a line of blessed defenders - it's a god pulling an "if I can't have them, no one can" on the civilian population of an entire country. The same deity who favors Tamir, and whose worship begins to be restored when she stakes her claim to the throne, achieved this by causing innocents to die for decades. If you take a step back, the whole thing starts to look a little bit like a godly power struggle in which humans are nothing more than chess pieces.
Tamir is aware of this, to a degree, in the way it specifically impacted her family. The Oracle describes her as a "seed watered with blood" - her mother's, her brother's, her cousins who died of plague, and finally her uncle's and Korin's. All because she 'had' to rule. But why did she 'have' to? This is an incredibly cruel destiny for anyone - let alone someone who is barely sixteen by the end of the story. And it all ends up just feeling intensely punitive for everyone involved.
(All of that, of course, is without getting into the question of whether a single 'Rightful Heir' can truly undo all the purely human damage that a bad ruler can cause, and whether or not it's worth just changing one person at the top in a feudal system which is fundamentally based on systematic oppression, and how do you ensure that the future generations of monarchs are also decent- and etc.)
I enjoyed this story; I appreciated how it was told, and I cared deeply about the characters, and the epilogue gave me a little happy/sad twinge in my heart to think of them being remembered but not known. But I feel like it also made me think a lot about this trope, and may as a result have changed how I approach stories like this in the future.
I think more than anything I appreciated the way that Flewelling took an immensely practical approach to the events of this book. The second installment ends with the status quo being completely destroyed - Tamir is revealed as a woman; the capital city is destroyed; the nominal crown prince has fled; and nobody knows where to go from here. This book starts slowly despite all that, and yet it feels more realistic, as Tamir starts to get her feet underneath her working on smaller logistical and strategic issues. The Oracle's Queen is very much concerned with the question of how to live up to destiny - how to be, not just the chosen ruler, but a good ruler. The way the story alternates between Tamir and Korin's encampments underscores this, as Korin makes fewer and fewer reasonable choices and Tamir learns how to balance what is right with what is practical.
That question, however, also leads me to the part of this book which got me thinking about how the fantasy genre treats the idea of the Rightful Heir. To be clear, this isn't a knock on Flewelling; the story she tells about rising to responsibility works within this framework, and I think the trope of a rightful or destined ruler can still have artistic/narrative value. But damn, did this story have some interesting implications.
The entire premise of the series is that there's a divine prophecy stating that Skala "will never be subjugated" as long as it is ruled by a queen of the royal line. At first, it seems like this just means they'll be conquered if the line of queens lapses, but Hidden Warrior showed us it's far worse than that: when the cast first travels to Atiyon, lands technically ruled by Tamir/Tobin, we find out that Atiyon has been spared both plague and famine - the implication being that they are protected since they are ruled by the true queen. The flip side of this is that the rest of the country - the rest of the ordinary people of Skala - are starving to death and dying of plague because they happen to be ruled by the wrong dude.
That's, uh. Really fucked up.
It completely changes the nature of the prophecy. Now it's not the god Ilior giving Skala a line of blessed defenders - it's a god pulling an "if I can't have them, no one can" on the civilian population of an entire country. The same deity who favors Tamir, and whose worship begins to be restored when she stakes her claim to the throne, achieved this by causing innocents to die for decades. If you take a step back, the whole thing starts to look a little bit like a godly power struggle in which humans are nothing more than chess pieces.
Tamir is aware of this, to a degree, in the way it specifically impacted her family. The Oracle describes her as a "seed watered with blood" - her mother's, her brother's, her cousins who died of plague, and finally her uncle's and Korin's. All because she 'had' to rule. But why did she 'have' to? This is an incredibly cruel destiny for anyone - let alone someone who is barely sixteen by the end of the story. And it all ends up just feeling intensely punitive for everyone involved.
(All of that, of course, is without getting into the question of whether a single 'Rightful Heir' can truly undo all the purely human damage that a bad ruler can cause, and whether or not it's worth just changing one person at the top in a feudal system which is fundamentally based on systematic oppression, and how do you ensure that the future generations of monarchs are also decent- and etc.)
I enjoyed this story; I appreciated how it was told, and I cared deeply about the characters, and the epilogue gave me a little happy/sad twinge in my heart to think of them being remembered but not known. But I feel like it also made me think a lot about this trope, and may as a result have changed how I approach stories like this in the future.
September 1, 2007
The perfect ending to a great trilogy. In some ways it felt stretched, but it was all worth it in the end for Tamir (formerly Tobin) and Korin's final battle. Also, the author did not shy away from showing how strange it must be to have your best friend suddenly change gender in front of you. Ki and Tamir's relationship is wonderfully complicated and angst-filled.
March 23, 2009
I forgot I read this series a few years back and LOVED it. Definitely one of my faves.
April 8, 2018
While I did like both of the previous books in the series... there were some things in there that really bothered me, even at the time. Among them were the treatment of sexual assault, sexual harassment, and rape as being traumatizing and horrible whenever men are the perpetrators, but easily shrugged off and even leading to sexyfuntimes when it's female-on-male—which is sadly not even the first time that this particular author has had this particular problem. (Tanil is suffering from severe PTSD and is left a complete wreck after being raped by Plenimaran soldiers, but Arkoniel's response to being assaulted by Lhel is to eagerly keep running back for more?) Then, in this book, there's Tamír's transition—regardless of what the author might have intended, it's impossible not to read her as a transgender character, and let's just say that some of the ways in which her transition is treated can get more than a little reeeeeaaaaally uncomfortable.
The single biggest problem (and, not incidentally, the reason I've been so iffy on which pronouns to use) is that, out of all the significant milestones on Tamír's journey from boy to woman, not a single one of them was undertaken on her own initiative. She was assigned male at birth, by people who were fully aware of her true sex—albeit with the caveat that this was done to protect her, but then again it never was adequately explained why they couldn't just hide her away in the mountains or take her to Aurënen or something until she was of an age to take her rightful place, and let her twin brother live under the pretense that he was the only child who'd been born that night, beyond a vague mumbled "It's the will of the gods".
(The excuse that they had to disguise her as a boy to keep Erius from finding her, Because Reasons, falls flat on its face when it's revealed that another wizard had saved another girl of the blood and successfully kept her hidden in a remote area long enough for her to reach adulthood without once having to resort to forcible misgendering or to murdering a baby—and this is from one of the villains of the story. And sure, Niryn had more resources and the king's favor at his disposal, but Arkoniel sure didn't have much of a problem keeping himself hidden despite not having access to any of those things; nor did Lhel, right under the heroes' noses—between them and Iya, they surely could have managed to hide one little girl as well. The literal villain is doing a better job of this than the literal heroes.)
Tamír never realized that she was a girl, she was told, and by the same people who'd wrongfully assigned her to begin with. Her coming out was again handled by other people, not because she was ready but because the gods were. (We never do learn a whole lot about Sakor, Dalna, or Astellus, but I've seen enough at this point to be convinced that Illior at least is a bloodthirsty monster.) The same thing happened with her transition, which she undertook only because other people had told her to, after these same people had kept the means from her to prevent her from taking this step without their say-so. Even her new name is imposed on her from the outside, bestowed on her by the ghost of a dead queen.
This continues in the way that she presents even after transitioning. In the first and second books, she showed interest in dolls, fancy dresses, and boys 100% on her own initiative, and I actually believed that she genuinely was interested. In this one, though, Tamír is all but forced into a dress she explicitly does not want to wear when she's already extremely uncomfortable and still adjusting to her changed body solely because Iya tells her that she has to—because she's a girl now, and girls wear dresses whether they like it or not, because that's the only way other people will know that they're girls, see, and believe me there's no quicker way to saddle a girl with a lifetime of internalized sexism and a deep misogynistic resentment of all things feminine. This continues in a myriad of other different ways: she's deeply uncomfortable with her new body, resents that she now has to squat to pee, feels sick at the sight of her altered genitals, is terrified by the thought of pregnancy (once again knowing that she has to secure the succession eventually without any regard to what she wants), and even outright states at one point that she doesn't feel like a girl, but like a boy in a dress.
I can't speak for trans people, but... just going from my gut, this whole thing strikes me as being really uncomfortable, and the exact opposite of empowering. It seems that far from showing a legitimate representation of an empowered transgendered character, or even simply of an empowered character, the book instead forces Tamír into exactly the sort of oppression faced by transgendered people in real life, where gender assignment is something that's imposed on them from the outside and their own voices in who they are and what they want don't matter.
Even looking at Tamír not as a trans girl, but simply a girl... a lot of those same problems are still there, where she's being forced into clothes she doesn't want to wear and being pushed into motherhood without regard to whether or not she wants it or to her deep visceral fear of what it will entail. And, for the record: yes, we need more stories that acknowledge that femininity and competence are not mutually exclusive, and that it's possible to be a mother and a warrior or a leader. But, I am getting thoroughly sick of narratives that push girls into feminine pursuits that they have no interest in, or aren't ready for, or explicitly don't want, make them learn to like it after realizing they have no say in their own bodily autonomy, and then call it "empowering".
Start forcing your boys into dresses Because Tradition, then I'll start believing how ~important~ it is.
As if that wasn't enough, the resolution of Brother's arc was an exercise in extreme frustration. Again and again Tamír complains that Brother and the Oracle do nothing but drop oblique hints and won't ever give her a straight answer concerning what happened to him—yet they both told her exactly what she needed to do in order to get a straight answer: ask Arkoniel. And yeah, I get that she's putting it off because there's still a part of her that doesn't want to know—but not wanting to know wasn't what she was complaining about, and she's rescinded all right to complain that no one is giving her any answers if she won't seek them.
Iya also had some nerve equating Tamír's upset over having her body altered without her consent—twice!—coming to terms with the fact that she's going to have to kill her beloved cousin and fight against old friends in order to take the throne, and learning that her longtime mentors and protectors were responsible for the murder of her infant brother, to a spoiled child's ungrateful whining, and not "accepting one's destiny" (in other words, blindly following the bloodthirsty gods' nonsensical mandates) to spineless cowardice! Iya supposedly "gave Tamír her life"—what, exactly, did she give up? While Arkoniel and Lhel were putting in the actual time and effort to teach her and keep her safe, Lhel cutting herself off from her own people to do so, Iya was off gallavanting around Skala and spreading rumors of something that most of the other wizards had already seen through visions anyway. At least when Lhel did that she had actual grounds to claim that the gods aren't fair to anyone and that she made great sacrifices too!
Tamír is, what, fifteen?, recently had a huge responsibility dumped on her shoulders with very little preparation and has been constantly breaking her back in order to fulfill that duty, has just had her entire identity rewritten on others' say-so, and has never, at any point since the day of her birth, had even the slightest bit of autonomy over her own life. If anyone has the right to complain right now, it's her. So yeah, a scene that was probably intended as Iya pushing Tamír to take the reins of responsibility instead came off as yet another instance of women and girls being accused of being "selfish" for daring to spare even the tiniest amount of thought for their own wellbeing out of the neverending self-sacrifice for others that's seen as nothing short of a divinely mandated duty. I'd always seen Iya as somewhat hardened, but still a good person who was willing to do bad things for the long view, but this was the point where I lost all sympathy for her.
Still, even so, there was a part of me that was inclined to show this book sympathy, because Lynne Flewelling can still write epic battles, and she can write the really emotionally charged conflicts, and she did at least make sure to tie up all of the loose ends (I have read Stalking Darkness , so I do know how the bowl thing eventually goes). Then, though, I got to the part where Tamír finally agreed to let Mahti heal her from the last vestiges of the transformation, and it basically amounted to... "Let's make her accept her birth sex as her true gender once and for all! Oh yes, and how about we prepare her for having babies while we're at it!"
Just... why? It would be entirely different if the author had ever managed to convey that this was something that Tamír actually wanted. Instead, it's just another thing that she ends up being pushed into. Like she's been pushed into first one gender identity that doesn't match how she feels, and then another gender identity that doesn't match how she feels. Like she's been pushed into clothes she doesn't want to wear, a role that's in direct opposition to all of her previous loyalties, and a marriage that she's not ready for. I think that Lynne Flewelling probably intended to write an empowered female character. Instead, she ends up just as trapped and subject to others' dictates as poor Nalia.
The single biggest problem (and, not incidentally, the reason I've been so iffy on which pronouns to use) is that, out of all the significant milestones on Tamír's journey from boy to woman, not a single one of them was undertaken on her own initiative. She was assigned male at birth, by people who were fully aware of her true sex—albeit with the caveat that this was done to protect her, but then again it never was adequately explained why they couldn't just hide her away in the mountains or take her to Aurënen or something until she was of an age to take her rightful place, and let her twin brother live under the pretense that he was the only child who'd been born that night, beyond a vague mumbled "It's the will of the gods".
(The excuse that they had to disguise her as a boy to keep Erius from finding her, Because Reasons, falls flat on its face when it's revealed that another wizard had saved another girl of the blood and successfully kept her hidden in a remote area long enough for her to reach adulthood without once having to resort to forcible misgendering or to murdering a baby—and this is from one of the villains of the story. And sure, Niryn had more resources and the king's favor at his disposal, but Arkoniel sure didn't have much of a problem keeping himself hidden despite not having access to any of those things; nor did Lhel, right under the heroes' noses—between them and Iya, they surely could have managed to hide one little girl as well. The literal villain is doing a better job of this than the literal heroes.)
Tamír never realized that she was a girl, she was told, and by the same people who'd wrongfully assigned her to begin with. Her coming out was again handled by other people, not because she was ready but because the gods were. (We never do learn a whole lot about Sakor, Dalna, or Astellus, but I've seen enough at this point to be convinced that Illior at least is a bloodthirsty monster.) The same thing happened with her transition, which she undertook only because other people had told her to, after these same people had kept the means from her to prevent her from taking this step without their say-so. Even her new name is imposed on her from the outside, bestowed on her by the ghost of a dead queen.
This continues in the way that she presents even after transitioning. In the first and second books, she showed interest in dolls, fancy dresses, and boys 100% on her own initiative, and I actually believed that she genuinely was interested. In this one, though, Tamír is all but forced into a dress she explicitly does not want to wear when she's already extremely uncomfortable and still adjusting to her changed body solely because Iya tells her that she has to—because she's a girl now, and girls wear dresses whether they like it or not, because that's the only way other people will know that they're girls, see, and believe me there's no quicker way to saddle a girl with a lifetime of internalized sexism and a deep misogynistic resentment of all things feminine. This continues in a myriad of other different ways: she's deeply uncomfortable with her new body, resents that she now has to squat to pee, feels sick at the sight of her altered genitals, is terrified by the thought of pregnancy (once again knowing that she has to secure the succession eventually without any regard to what she wants), and even outright states at one point that she doesn't feel like a girl, but like a boy in a dress.
I can't speak for trans people, but... just going from my gut, this whole thing strikes me as being really uncomfortable, and the exact opposite of empowering. It seems that far from showing a legitimate representation of an empowered transgendered character, or even simply of an empowered character, the book instead forces Tamír into exactly the sort of oppression faced by transgendered people in real life, where gender assignment is something that's imposed on them from the outside and their own voices in who they are and what they want don't matter.
Even looking at Tamír not as a trans girl, but simply a girl... a lot of those same problems are still there, where she's being forced into clothes she doesn't want to wear and being pushed into motherhood without regard to whether or not she wants it or to her deep visceral fear of what it will entail. And, for the record: yes, we need more stories that acknowledge that femininity and competence are not mutually exclusive, and that it's possible to be a mother and a warrior or a leader. But, I am getting thoroughly sick of narratives that push girls into feminine pursuits that they have no interest in, or aren't ready for, or explicitly don't want, make them learn to like it after realizing they have no say in their own bodily autonomy, and then call it "empowering".
Start forcing your boys into dresses Because Tradition, then I'll start believing how ~important~ it is.
As if that wasn't enough, the resolution of Brother's arc was an exercise in extreme frustration. Again and again Tamír complains that Brother and the Oracle do nothing but drop oblique hints and won't ever give her a straight answer concerning what happened to him—yet they both told her exactly what she needed to do in order to get a straight answer: ask Arkoniel. And yeah, I get that she's putting it off because there's still a part of her that doesn't want to know—but not wanting to know wasn't what she was complaining about, and she's rescinded all right to complain that no one is giving her any answers if she won't seek them.
Iya also had some nerve equating Tamír's upset over having her body altered without her consent—twice!—coming to terms with the fact that she's going to have to kill her beloved cousin and fight against old friends in order to take the throne, and learning that her longtime mentors and protectors were responsible for the murder of her infant brother, to a spoiled child's ungrateful whining, and not "accepting one's destiny" (in other words, blindly following the bloodthirsty gods' nonsensical mandates) to spineless cowardice! Iya supposedly "gave Tamír her life"—what, exactly, did she give up? While Arkoniel and Lhel were putting in the actual time and effort to teach her and keep her safe, Lhel cutting herself off from her own people to do so, Iya was off gallavanting around Skala and spreading rumors of something that most of the other wizards had already seen through visions anyway. At least when Lhel did that she had actual grounds to claim that the gods aren't fair to anyone and that she made great sacrifices too!
Tamír is, what, fifteen?, recently had a huge responsibility dumped on her shoulders with very little preparation and has been constantly breaking her back in order to fulfill that duty, has just had her entire identity rewritten on others' say-so, and has never, at any point since the day of her birth, had even the slightest bit of autonomy over her own life. If anyone has the right to complain right now, it's her. So yeah, a scene that was probably intended as Iya pushing Tamír to take the reins of responsibility instead came off as yet another instance of women and girls being accused of being "selfish" for daring to spare even the tiniest amount of thought for their own wellbeing out of the neverending self-sacrifice for others that's seen as nothing short of a divinely mandated duty. I'd always seen Iya as somewhat hardened, but still a good person who was willing to do bad things for the long view, but this was the point where I lost all sympathy for her.
Still, even so, there was a part of me that was inclined to show this book sympathy, because Lynne Flewelling can still write epic battles, and she can write the really emotionally charged conflicts, and she did at least make sure to tie up all of the loose ends (I have read Stalking Darkness , so I do know how the bowl thing eventually goes). Then, though, I got to the part where Tamír finally agreed to let Mahti heal her from the last vestiges of the transformation, and it basically amounted to... "Let's make her accept her birth sex as her true gender once and for all! Oh yes, and how about we prepare her for having babies while we're at it!"
Just... why? It would be entirely different if the author had ever managed to convey that this was something that Tamír actually wanted. Instead, it's just another thing that she ends up being pushed into. Like she's been pushed into first one gender identity that doesn't match how she feels, and then another gender identity that doesn't match how she feels. Like she's been pushed into clothes she doesn't want to wear, a role that's in direct opposition to all of her previous loyalties, and a marriage that she's not ready for. I think that Lynne Flewelling probably intended to write an empowered female character. Instead, she ends up just as trapped and subject to others' dictates as poor Nalia.
October 10, 2025
5 stars : I just finished The Oracle’s Queen, and honestly, the Tamír Triad has become one of my favorite fantasy series ever. I loved every page of it. It brought me right back to the kind of fantasy I used to read when I was younger, before the genre was all hype and “cool.” This series wasn’t trying to be edgy or sassy. It was slow, character-driven, and rich in tone and background.
The worldbuilding and magic were simple on the surface, but somehow still felt so full and alive. It reminded me that a fantasy world doesn’t need a Sanderson level of the thousand rules or a complex systems to feel real. When everything grows naturally from the characters, it just works.
And the characters.. WOW. The way this book handled gender identity really impressed me. Especially for its time, it was done with so much care, empathy, and tenderness. It never felt preachy, just deeply human. Tobin–Tamír’s story hit hard because it was treated with respect and... quiet strength. Yep, that is the right word.
This book felt softer and more introspective than the first two, but in the best way. The horror elements faded a bit, replaced by a more epic tone, and even though the battles weren’t huge or cinematic, I didn’t mind at all. Not every fantasy needs a 100-page war scene; sometimes, the emotional battles are the ones that stay with you.
All the supporting characters were fantastic again. I loved the companions left behind with Korin, their conflicted loyalties, and the way those relationships played out. And Ki… oh, Ki. He’s one of the best written loyal companions I’ve read in years — loving, steadfast, but always true to himself. His bond with Tamír felt so real and earned. No insta-love, no drama — just quiet, believable devotion.
In the end, The Oracle’s Queen wrapped up the series perfectly. It was thoughtful, emotional, and full of heart. This series reminded me why I fell in love with fantasy in the first place. I honestly think everyone who loves classic, character-centered stories should give it a chance.
The worldbuilding and magic were simple on the surface, but somehow still felt so full and alive. It reminded me that a fantasy world doesn’t need a Sanderson level of the thousand rules or a complex systems to feel real. When everything grows naturally from the characters, it just works.
And the characters.. WOW. The way this book handled gender identity really impressed me. Especially for its time, it was done with so much care, empathy, and tenderness. It never felt preachy, just deeply human. Tobin–Tamír’s story hit hard because it was treated with respect and... quiet strength. Yep, that is the right word.
This book felt softer and more introspective than the first two, but in the best way. The horror elements faded a bit, replaced by a more epic tone, and even though the battles weren’t huge or cinematic, I didn’t mind at all. Not every fantasy needs a 100-page war scene; sometimes, the emotional battles are the ones that stay with you.
All the supporting characters were fantastic again. I loved the companions left behind with Korin, their conflicted loyalties, and the way those relationships played out. And Ki… oh, Ki. He’s one of the best written loyal companions I’ve read in years — loving, steadfast, but always true to himself. His bond with Tamír felt so real and earned. No insta-love, no drama — just quiet, believable devotion.
In the end, The Oracle’s Queen wrapped up the series perfectly. It was thoughtful, emotional, and full of heart. This series reminded me why I fell in love with fantasy in the first place. I honestly think everyone who loves classic, character-centered stories should give it a chance.
May 22, 2014
The first book was fantastic. The second one is was not satisfying, but still good in some parts. The last book of the series fails to string everything together to give the reader a sense of fulfillment that an epic trilogy should.
I'm throughly disappointed because the first book is so amazing and had such potential. There's very little character development. Those who are loyal are always loyal; those who are evil are super evil until the very end. Tamir never really had to make any tough decisions, and never got hurt from any mistakes. There's no strategy when it came to warfare. I find the protagonist spoiled and unappreciative, and everyone around her loves her to the utmost degree and never faults her for anything. Everything goes her way and there's not much to read about.
I'm throughly disappointed because the first book is so amazing and had such potential. There's very little character development. Those who are loyal are always loyal; those who are evil are super evil until the very end. Tamir never really had to make any tough decisions, and never got hurt from any mistakes. There's no strategy when it came to warfare. I find the protagonist spoiled and unappreciative, and everyone around her loves her to the utmost degree and never faults her for anything. Everything goes her way and there's not much to read about.
October 31, 2011
There are so many ways in which trilogies can go wrong - either they start off great and slowly decline, or become ruined because of a third book that makes no sense whatsoever.
Happily, The Oracle's Queen does neither of those. In fact, this is a trilogy that got better as it went along (after a very solid first book!) Flewelling does an excellent job of detailing character growth, from Korin's downward spiral to Ki slowly learning to accept Tamír as she is. Some of the problems were resolved exactly the way I wanted them to be -- -- and I was really happy with the outcome.
I also want to make note that one thing that makes this work is how likable Tamír is. Oftentimes, a series that revolves around the presence of a protagonist can fall apart if s/he's an asshole. Tamír isn't. She parleys, she's merciful - but if she's pushed, she won't hesitate to Screw You Up. This is one of the few times when, while reading, I actually thought, "I'd definitely support you, man."
A very satisfying conclusion - possibly one of the best I've read.
Happily, The Oracle's Queen does neither of those. In fact, this is a trilogy that got better as it went along (after a very solid first book!) Flewelling does an excellent job of detailing character growth, from Korin's downward spiral to Ki slowly learning to accept Tamír as she is. Some of the problems were resolved exactly the way I wanted them to be -- -- and I was really happy with the outcome.
I also want to make note that one thing that makes this work is how likable Tamír is. Oftentimes, a series that revolves around the presence of a protagonist can fall apart if s/he's an asshole. Tamír isn't. She parleys, she's merciful - but if she's pushed, she won't hesitate to Screw You Up. This is one of the few times when, while reading, I actually thought, "I'd definitely support you, man."
A very satisfying conclusion - possibly one of the best I've read.
April 5, 2013
Okay, fair warning that 1) this review is actually for the whole series because I read it all at once, and 2) this is a review I rediscovered that I wrote in 2010 right after finishing the series. As a result, I honestly don't remember enough specifics about the series to say whether I would feel exactly the same way about the series today or whether my opinion might change. Please keep those both in mind when reading this review.
Also note I tried to avoid spoilers but even at the time of writing the review I couldn't remember what happened when so there may be spoilers for the series or even the end. Proceed with caution.
Last fair warning: as usual, I wrote a lot so you may find this to be tl;dr.
Overview of what the series is about:
This is what I thought about the series after finishing it:
In thinking back, between my memory of how I felt finishing the series and the bits that came to my mind when rereading my review, I'm not sure if I would rate this series 4 stars or even a bit higher at 4.5.
Also note I tried to avoid spoilers but even at the time of writing the review I couldn't remember what happened when so there may be spoilers for the series or even the end. Proceed with caution.
Last fair warning: as usual, I wrote a lot so you may find this to be tl;dr.
Overview of what the series is about:
This is what I thought about the series after finishing it:
In thinking back, between my memory of how I felt finishing the series and the bits that came to my mind when rereading my review, I'm not sure if I would rate this series 4 stars or even a bit higher at 4.5.
March 26, 2016
I liked the first two books, but I had to force myself to read this one. I thought it was boring. Very little happens, and when things actually do happen it's utterly predictable. There's literally zero surprises. Everything you think that will happen, does happen. Disappointed on this one.
July 30, 2021
Naprostá pecka, stejně jako celá Tamír trilogie. A závěrečné vyústění bylo přesně v jaký jsem jako nadšená čtenářka doufala. Tamír je skvělá!
February 20, 2015
The story begins (two books earlier) with a kingdom where the god has decreed that rule must be held by a queen of the blood. He meant it; the few times a man has usurped the throne there have been plagues, famines, and other signs of deific displeasure. However, the last queen was completely mad, and her son wound up with the crown as his sister was too young to rule... and then it turned out the sister had inherited a bit of the mother's mad streak... The king was a good ruler, and beloved despite the plague and invasion and bad harvests (he was better than his mother had been), and, well, female offshoots of the blood just sort of started disappearing. It was a definite pattern of elimination, though no one dared voice the observation (there was a wizard at work there), and finally the god gave a vision to a wizard of more loyalty to the land: the king's sister was pregnant, and would have twins, a girl and a boy. The only way to restore the throne to a queen would be to make it appear that nature did the king's work: that the girl was stillborn. In reality the task that was set before them was terrible: the boy, perfectly healthy, must die, and the girl must take on his appearance until the time she might take the crown.
Naturally, nothing goes smoothly - there is an interruption just as the boy is born, and the witch midwife does not smother him quickly enough - he has time to draw a first breath, which in this world is all that is needed to create a demon/ghost. And boy does it...
The trilogy follows the life of the "boy", who is until puberty totally ignorant of his true birth, as is everyone else in the world but the parents, two wizards, the midwife, and the wetnurse. The revelation, the transformation, the battle for the kingdom - that's the trilogy, and I loved every word. With some books I skim because I'm bored; with these there were places I galumphed through the pages and missed chunks just because I wanted to know what happened next. These books were nearly perfect.
Naturally, nothing goes smoothly - there is an interruption just as the boy is born, and the witch midwife does not smother him quickly enough - he has time to draw a first breath, which in this world is all that is needed to create a demon/ghost. And boy does it...
The trilogy follows the life of the "boy", who is until puberty totally ignorant of his true birth, as is everyone else in the world but the parents, two wizards, the midwife, and the wetnurse. The revelation, the transformation, the battle for the kingdom - that's the trilogy, and I loved every word. With some books I skim because I'm bored; with these there were places I galumphed through the pages and missed chunks just because I wanted to know what happened next. These books were nearly perfect.
October 17, 2013
This book was an okay conclusion to what was just an okay series. I felt that there was a lot of unnecessary fluff in every book that only served to bog the story down rather than propel the characters forward, and this book was the most guilty of that. Not that much really happened, even though it was supposed to feel like the climactic ending to a series. Instead, it just fell kind of flat. I mean the big bad baddy of the series died by I mean really?! That's the best you could come up with? At one point a character even says something like "Hm, what an ordinary way to die for someone who was so feared." Yeah, no kidding.
There is an author's note at the end about the evil bowl that has been in the whole series but never played a serious role. She says it figures a major part in her other series, that starts with Luck in the Shadows.
Do I care enough to go to that series? Right now, not really, but maybe at some point in the future.
There is an author's note at the end about the evil bowl that has been in the whole series but never played a serious role. She says it figures a major part in her other series, that starts with Luck in the Shadows.
Do I care enough to go to that series? Right now, not really, but maybe at some point in the future.
September 6, 2019
Months after reading the conclusion, I have finally remembered to write a review for the series finale. Unfortunately, waiting has caused the details to be forgotten, however, I absolutely remember being disappointed that everything happens according to the prophecy. I know that the whole trilogy was based off it, so it makes sense, but I feel it was just wrapped up too perfectly because of that, which makes it feel as if it was somehow lacking in some obscure way. The best way to put it is as if someone told you the ending before you read the books and now all you're doing is reading about how the characters got there, even though I believe the journey of an adventure to be important, this lacked in it only because we as the readers were never actually left out of any information because we got to witness the multiple point of views throughout the books.
As always though, the writing and characterization were well executed.
As always though, the writing and characterization were well executed.
May 27, 2020
Had you asked me to rate it in the beginning half, I would probably have given it a 3.5 or 4. But around the middle and onwards the pace really picked up, and my goodness... What an unbelievably satisfying ending to such a wonderful trilogy! I'm so happy with how things played out, and so sad to say goodbye to some of my favourite characters (Tamir, Ki, Tharin, Arkoniel, and so many more). Teared up at the epilogue, so so good.
May 9, 2018
I think this was actually the weakest of the trilogy, but still enjoyable. I will be reading more by this author.
November 8, 2023
Questa non è una brutta trilogia - sono ben altri i libri brutti.
Tuttavia, determinate scelte narrative culminate in questo libro non mi hanno convinto e in definitiva hanno contribuito a non apprezzare la trilogia in pieno.
Il mio problema più grande sono state le aspettative non mantenute. I primi due libri erano molto lenti ma piacevoli da leggere perché pur concentrati sullo sviluppo dei personaggi si veniva anche spinti a credere che tale sviluppo andasse pari pari con la trama e i punti salienti inseriti. Invece molto di ciò che nei primi due libri viene costruito qui sostanzialmente ha un'importanza davvero minimale.
La storia del demone fratello, Iya e le sue visioni, i maghi che cacciavano altri maghi... viene tutto annacquato e/o risolto in maniera rapida e metà di questo libro finisce per essere le paturne di Tamir e Ki. L'aspettativa creata di dissolve in un nulla.
Io penso che alcune di queste decisioni siano state ponderate e volute dall'autrice, ma devo dire che personalmente parlando non sono riuscita nemmeno a capirle, men che meno ad apprezzarle. Ho davvero difficoltà a considerare ben fatta una storia in cui fin dal primo libro viene introdotta una squadra di maghi fortissimi che cacciano gli altri maghi, e dopo aver assistito alla creazione di un altro gruppo di maghi uguali e contrari... i primi semplicemente non fanno nulla. Nulla di nulla.
A questo aggiungo che nonostante trovi Tamir/Tobin un buon personaggio, ho iniziato a odiare in questo libro quanto la sua storia sia passiva. Tutto le viene addossato senza che lei abbia una vera scelta: da prima della sua nascita decidono che lei sarà regina, prima la obbligano a essere un maschio, poi a essere una donna... In questo libro mi ha dato particolarmente fastidio la storia del destino perché questo dio la obbliga a fare così perché se non c'è lei sul trono in giro ci sono pestilenze e carestie quindi lei è obbligata a essere regina e di conseguenza a battersi con suo cugino, ma non la vediamo mai pensare che è quello che vuole, è obbligata a farlo da tutto ciò che la circonda.
Anche questo si può considerare una chiara scelta narrativa, già più comprensibile (e a qualcuno potrà anche piacere). Io ho finito per odiarla.
C'è una scena particolare in questo libro dove la maga artefice di tutto chiama la "ingrata" perché lei si è giustamente arrabbiata per la storia di suo fratello e io ero lì che dicevo "ma taci bastarda maledetta ma chi ti ha chiesto niente!" C'è questo senso del dovere "sì, ok, ho ucciso un bambino appena nato innocente ma è per the greatest good quindi mi dispiace ma ti attacchi e tiri e accetti il tuo destino" che boh, anche meno.
Mi ha dato, da questo punto di vista, le vibes di un libro invecchiato molto male. E non è l'unica cosa in cui lo fa, perché per un libro che letteralmente vuole parlare di genere, considerando che il punto focale è che Tamir è un uomo biologico per gran parte della sua vita, usa un modello di binarismo uomo/donna che nel 2023 non è più accettabile.
Lo avrei tollerato (e lo stavo tollerando) proprio perché conosco l'autrice e so che è stato fatto in totale buona fede e nel periodo storico inerente, ma aggiungendo tutti gli altri problemi che ho riscontrato la mia soglia di tolleranza si è sfortunatamente abbassata.
Non sono arrabbiata, sono delusa perché come ho detto questa non è una brutta trilogia e aveva avuto comunque la capacità di intrattenermi e spingermi a leggere capitolo dopo capitolo (soprattutto i primi due libri, mentre il terzo le ultime pagine le ho mollate).
Tuttavia, determinate scelte narrative culminate in questo libro non mi hanno convinto e in definitiva hanno contribuito a non apprezzare la trilogia in pieno.
Il mio problema più grande sono state le aspettative non mantenute. I primi due libri erano molto lenti ma piacevoli da leggere perché pur concentrati sullo sviluppo dei personaggi si veniva anche spinti a credere che tale sviluppo andasse pari pari con la trama e i punti salienti inseriti. Invece molto di ciò che nei primi due libri viene costruito qui sostanzialmente ha un'importanza davvero minimale.
La storia del demone fratello, Iya e le sue visioni, i maghi che cacciavano altri maghi... viene tutto annacquato e/o risolto in maniera rapida e metà di questo libro finisce per essere le paturne di Tamir e Ki. L'aspettativa creata di dissolve in un nulla.
Io penso che alcune di queste decisioni siano state ponderate e volute dall'autrice, ma devo dire che personalmente parlando non sono riuscita nemmeno a capirle, men che meno ad apprezzarle. Ho davvero difficoltà a considerare ben fatta una storia in cui fin dal primo libro viene introdotta una squadra di maghi fortissimi che cacciano gli altri maghi, e dopo aver assistito alla creazione di un altro gruppo di maghi uguali e contrari... i primi semplicemente non fanno nulla. Nulla di nulla.
A questo aggiungo che nonostante trovi Tamir/Tobin un buon personaggio, ho iniziato a odiare in questo libro quanto la sua storia sia passiva. Tutto le viene addossato senza che lei abbia una vera scelta: da prima della sua nascita decidono che lei sarà regina, prima la obbligano a essere un maschio, poi a essere una donna... In questo libro mi ha dato particolarmente fastidio la storia del destino perché questo dio la obbliga a fare così perché se non c'è lei sul trono in giro ci sono pestilenze e carestie quindi lei è obbligata a essere regina e di conseguenza a battersi con suo cugino, ma non la vediamo mai pensare che è quello che vuole, è obbligata a farlo da tutto ciò che la circonda.
Anche questo si può considerare una chiara scelta narrativa, già più comprensibile (e a qualcuno potrà anche piacere). Io ho finito per odiarla.
C'è una scena particolare in questo libro dove la maga artefice di tutto chiama la "ingrata" perché lei si è giustamente arrabbiata per la storia di suo fratello e io ero lì che dicevo "ma taci bastarda maledetta ma chi ti ha chiesto niente!" C'è questo senso del dovere "sì, ok, ho ucciso un bambino appena nato innocente ma è per the greatest good quindi mi dispiace ma ti attacchi e tiri e accetti il tuo destino" che boh, anche meno.
Mi ha dato, da questo punto di vista, le vibes di un libro invecchiato molto male. E non è l'unica cosa in cui lo fa, perché per un libro che letteralmente vuole parlare di genere, considerando che il punto focale è che Tamir è un uomo biologico per gran parte della sua vita, usa un modello di binarismo uomo/donna che nel 2023 non è più accettabile.
Lo avrei tollerato (e lo stavo tollerando) proprio perché conosco l'autrice e so che è stato fatto in totale buona fede e nel periodo storico inerente, ma aggiungendo tutti gli altri problemi che ho riscontrato la mia soglia di tolleranza si è sfortunatamente abbassata.
Non sono arrabbiata, sono delusa perché come ho detto questa non è una brutta trilogia e aveva avuto comunque la capacità di intrattenermi e spingermi a leggere capitolo dopo capitolo (soprattutto i primi due libri, mentre il terzo le ultime pagine le ho mollate).
July 22, 2020
Lynn Flewelling is an amazing story teller with an endearing prose and she makes me care for the characters.
Although I think this is a fitting conclusion to the trilogy, I did have a lot to nag about in this book.
The two main reasons being everything Prophecy-related and Tamír herself. I can't tell you how often she annoyed me, over and over again. Apart from that, I really hate prophecies and how they pave the way for the heroes with conveniences.
Although I think this is a fitting conclusion to the trilogy, I did have a lot to nag about in this book.
The two main reasons being everything Prophecy-related and Tamír herself. I can't tell you how often she annoyed me, over and over again. Apart from that, I really hate prophecies and how they pave the way for the heroes with conveniences.
September 27, 2024
2.5?
This is the weakest link in the trilogy. It does wrap most things up, but it has clunky dialogue and it’s a bit anticlimactic. When you have a prophecy and gods on your side, are the stakes really that high?
For its length, I think it could’ve talked more about the demon brother’s storyline, but for the most part Tamir tried hard not to think about it!
And then there’s the racist hillfolk storyline - the magically appear and help save the day and tamir becomes a white savior. “Why help our oppressor?” (A paraphrased quote) a simple explanation waves the problem away (something about a prophecy I don’t even remember anymore)
Overall, good series. First book is definitely the best of the three, but the subsequent books kind of lose what made it unique.
This is the weakest link in the trilogy. It does wrap most things up, but it has clunky dialogue and it’s a bit anticlimactic. When you have a prophecy and gods on your side, are the stakes really that high?
For its length, I think it could’ve talked more about the demon brother’s storyline, but for the most part Tamir tried hard not to think about it!
And then there’s the racist hillfolk storyline - the magically appear and help save the day and tamir becomes a white savior. “Why help our oppressor?” (A paraphrased quote) a simple explanation waves the problem away (something about a prophecy I don’t even remember anymore)
Overall, good series. First book is definitely the best of the three, but the subsequent books kind of lose what made it unique.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 5, 2019
I thorougly enjoyed the Tamir Triad trilogy, despite the fact that the third book was a bit weaker than the first two, giving into to more commonplace tropes of the genre.
The most memorable scene for me from this third part was the visit to the Oracle pit with its eerie description.
The final visit to the tower left me with some unanswered questions for the final psychic release (?) of that particular angry spirit at the end of the book, which was dealt in haste.
The most memorable scene for me from this third part was the visit to the Oracle pit with its eerie description.
The final visit to the tower left me with some unanswered questions for the final psychic release (?) of that particular angry spirit at the end of the book, which was dealt in haste.
December 16, 2022
So, so satisfying! Everything really comes together in the final book. The tense moments had my palms sweating. I was excited to finally learn this is a far off prequel to her Nightrunner series. Happy to not have to leave Skala behind just yet.
Very LGBTQ+ friendly and I feel the author handled gender identity with grace.
Very LGBTQ+ friendly and I feel the author handled gender identity with grace.
October 11, 2018
Umas das melhores séries de fantasia que já li. 4 estrelas para a trilogia como um todo. Minha única reclamação é o peso das profecias — que engessam e tiram o clímax de alguns eventos — e os deus ex machina que elas carregam pela história.
Mas todo o resto? Maravilhoso. Que jornada.
Mas todo o resto? Maravilhoso. Que jornada.
January 14, 2018
4.5 really. This series is so wonderful.
May 10, 2019
An enjoyable series with a tidy ending (which I always appreciate).
January 10, 2022
literally one heartbreak after another. this was rough. the epilogue did make me cry in the workplace. thank u lynn
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