“Faey lived, for those who knew how to find her, within Ombria’s past. Parts of the city’s past lay within time’s reach, beneath the streets in great old limestone tunnels: the hovels and mansions and sunken river that Ombria shrugged off like a forgotten skin, and buried beneath itself through the centuries. Other parts were less accessible. Everyone knew of past, like they knew the smells of wild rose and shit and frying sausage, and the direction of the wind and the cry of gulls around the rotting docks. But though they relied on sausage and air, few paid attention to the city’s past. That suited Faey, who lived along the borderline of past and present. Those who needed her followed the scent of her work and found her. Those who didn’t considered her a vague seep out of someone’s cistern, an imprecise shadow at the end of an alley, and walked their ceaseless, complex patterns above her head, never knowing how their lives echoed down the intricate passageways of time in the hollow beneath the city.”
Ombria in Shadow is a novel of dualities. From the very first chapter, McKillip establishes that the central duality of her novel is that of two cities-Ombria itself and its shadow, the crumbling ruins underneath it. The novel begins with Lydea, the prince's mistress, telling his son a tale about a legendary shadow city, counterpart to Ombria. The first reaction of some readers may be to assume that the shadow city is somehow evil, or houses some great threat to the city above, but McKillip makes it very clear that the underground is a reification of Ombria's history, upon which the city and palace have literally been built. Perhaps some readers may assume that the underground is sinister and presents a threat to the city above. To an extent they are correct, but the underground is also a source of power for those who live above it. From the shadow city, the sorceress Faey supplies the rich with spells so that they may keep their power. Her clients are only those old enough to know the secret of Ombria's shadow, including the regent Domina Pearl and some elderly nobles. The power struggles of the elite, however, are limited to the royal palace, and the city beyond is of little consequence to the people who rule it. There is a disconnect between the rulers of Ombria and their subjects that McKillip models by setting up spatial boundaries within Ombria.
The two primary locations of the novel, three if including the shadow city, are the palace and everything that surrounds it. The reader is shown the palace in great detail, with all its rooms and secret passageways, but the city surrounding it is relatively ill-defined. McKillip introduces the reader to a couple taverns and storefronts, but how far are they from the palace? Where are they in relation to each other? McKillip is not interested in providing a clear map of the city, but makes it clear that Ombria outside of the palace is falling apart. Her prose articulates decontextualized details of architecture in the charcoal paintings of Ducon, the only royal who wanders freely through the city. Ruined doorways, cracked windows, broken piers, and shadowy alleyways are Ducon's subjects, and they pervade both the city and the palace. McKillip's disorienting prose transforms space into abstraction. Maps and architecture, ordered structures, are replaced by an ambiguous web of shadows and decay, concepts rather than concrete places.
It is these small details, broken and shadowy spaces, that unite the city and the palace in spite of the clear boundary set up between them by Domina Pearl and the elite. Most importantly, these spaces--doorways, alleys and darkened windows, are secret entrances into the shadow city, an impossibly vast space which connects to both city and palace. Mag, an apprentice to Faey, crosses the boundary between city and shadow, or city and palace, at will. Her knowledge of the shadow city allows her to transgress the city boundaries at will, and from the dealings of Faey we know that knowledge is power.
Ombria in Shadow is about a city that has forgotten its history. Trapped under the rule of a tyrant, people long for the better days that their parents can remember, but they are also unaware of the spatial transformations that have taken place in their city. To them, there has always been a fence between the palace and the city, and the history of Ombria is a forgotten secret guarded closely by Domina Pearl and the nobles to serve their own interests. Only characters who have crossed the boundaries between palace and city (Ducon, Lydea, and Mag) have the power fight against the tyrannical Domina Pearl and the ability to see the true state of Ombria. The transformation that gradually takes place in the final chapters reasserts the place of the current struggle in a cyclical history of struggles.
When Faey, an avatar of Ombria's secret history, rises to the surface, a cataclysm marks an end to the current state of Ombria and the beginning of a new one. Without showing exactly how the climactic collision between shadow and light resolves, McKillip introduces the reader to a new political order in Ombria, headed by Ducon with his consciousness of all Ombria's faults and the will to fix them. The ending is abrupt, hopeful and happy, with all characters comfortable and the villain soundly defeated. All seems well, but in the final lines, Lydea begins to forget the story she once told the prince's son of the shadow city. The cycle of history is already being forgotten anew, and the happy resolution will undoubtedly be impermanent.
There is much more say about the role that McKillip assigns to art and representation in historical struggle and societal transformation, but this review is already far too long. Suffice it to say that McKillip's prose has led me to reevaluate the artistic possibilities of fantasy as a genre, and the capacity for abstraction in her prose is inspirational.