Well, here's a name I've not heard in a long time.
From an author/reader standpoint, Tepper and I go back a bit. Years ago she had struck me as a SF/fantasy author worth exploring in more detail, especially for her feminist and ecologically-oriented takes on the genre, which still weren't a super-common thing when she was writing at her peak. So I wound up getting a bunch of her books, starting with one of her more renowned, "The Gate to Woman's Country", and then proceeding to branch out into her other books, some of which could be grouped into trilogies although a lot of them stood alone. Being how critically acclaimed she seemed to be, I expected to have a grand ol' time, or at least a thought-provoking one.
Unfortunately that's not quite how it went.
You can go dig up past reviews if you want all the gory details but what it came down to was that while Tepper the writer was extremely talented, Tepper the essayist had all the subtlety of an avalanche trying to sneak up on you, if a rushing pile of snow and rock could also lecture you about modern gender roles or the planet or who knows what else. At her best she gave you something to chew over while also making you reflexively cringe away ("The Gate to Women's Country" is probably the best example of this "hmm"/"eww" approach, with its treatment of homosexuality falling squarely into the latter category) but over time that ratio gradually sloped over to the "cringe" side of things like an elephant deciding to sit on one bucket of a scale. Sure, its technically measurable but its definitely going to give you skewed results, like your favorite folk singer trying to sing their delicate songs during a heavy metal festival.
The degree of this varied over time and at its worst would completely overshadow her considerable talent as a SF writer but the end result was that you had to tiptoe through her back catalog carefully and sort of brace yourself like an astronaut about to experience face-melting G-forces. There was a point where I did wonder why I was subjecting myself to these (that said, "Grass" stuck with me for a while) especially since every time I thought I was done another one would show up in my queue, forcing me to sigh and go forth unto the breach once again.
That last one was probably years ago and yet, here we are again. And while Tepper's writing is still Tepper's writing perhaps in the time elapsed since then I've grown more to appreciate her prose gifts a bit more while not letting all the other stuff bother me. But I've also grown more crotchety with age, so, probably not.
In a nice bit of poetry we're dipping into a series that dates from the very beginning of her SF/fantasy writing career (something I always found interesting about her is she didn't write this stuff until much later in her life with her first genre book coming when she was in her mid-fifties) so in a sense we're looking at a more embryonic Tepper instead of the more, er, opinionated writer she would eventually become. This was in the early eighties, where the true Tepper Unbound probably didn't come into being until "The Gate to Women's Country" arrived at the end of the decade, which means that she's still figuring stuff out and at the very least hasn't learned to use her ideas as a relentless battering ram.
Instead its oddly, refreshingly, pure fantasy with only the vaguest sprinkle of SF elements to make you think that this might have oriented anywhere but from magicland. A trilogy in the finest fantasy tradition even if it never quite feels like a trilogy as much as a loosely shaped plot scooped into three different books, with enough spillover leaking that you'll probably feel like you're missing something. And chances are that's true as Tepper, new as she was to this, apparently didn't lack for ambition and thus has formed this as a trilogy of trilogies, with each one featuring a different main character, with the temporal perspective of events shifted slightly so you get some before/after along with the different POV. This series (collected as "The True Game") was the first published but holds down the middle from a timeline standpoint, with the other two trilogies showing you what two other characters were doing when they weren't stuck in this plot.
With that said, I have no idea if reading all nine books improves the series at all. As far as I know (and I reserve the right to be all "Just kidding!" in a few years if I dig these out from somewhere) I never got the other two omnibuses collecting the rest of the series so I may be getting somewhat of an incomplete experience reading these the way I am. But by the same token, a trilogy should be able to stand on its own and not require me to read six other tangentially related books to really "get" it. All I gots is this, so this is all I'm going to deal with.
What we gots is a series that is a bit hard to get into because from the start it feels like people are using the same words that we do but those words have different meanings. Our narrator is Peter, who is relaying these events from some point in the future (so you know he survives in some form although except for maybe one moment he's never in dire peril) but when we encounter him in the book he's a teenager at a school devoted to teaching students how to play "The True Game", which seems to involve magic even if the magic is disguised as people shouting out random moves like they're trying to convince someone else they learned how to play chess via "Magic: The Gathering" or poorly translated Internet videos. It doesn't take too long before we find out that most everyone with the ability will eventually manifest a Special Talent that typically falls into one of several Dungeons and Dragons approved categories (eventually we get a chart showing the character clas-I mean, titles of the various combinations of traits . . . all to make it easier to run that eventual "True Game" campaign you've been asking for) and Peter is still on the road to figuring out what his might be. But there's no real hurry.
Until suddenly there is. An icky episode of honest-to-goodness instructor/student grooming (it comes early and yes, its disturbing) gets Peter to the point where he's nearly killed and that seems to sort of kickstart the plot as Peter goes on a journey with a couple friends to another school, meets some new friends along the way and really doesn't all that much to justify what exactly it is we're doing here.
The first book in particular in this series is a bit of a tough slog. Tepper's skill at world-construction and prose weren't completely evident by this point and so there are quite a few moments where the book starts to feel impenetrable as everyone talks about games and you feel like you've stumbled on a book that may be a mainstream read in a parallel universe but sure as heck isn't in this one. Peter at this point is not the most vivid of storytellers and it seems like the book is hoping you'll find the setting so fascinating that you'll overlook the fact that you often have no idea what everyone is getting so excited about, especially as the characters aren't that memorable (the healer they eventually pal around with cries a lot but it took me most of two books to realize she's only about twenty-one . . . the cook does liven things up quite a bit though) and the plot doesn't feel like a plot as much as Things Happening. Did you know there's also "immutables", a whole clan of people whose presence can suppress the magic powers of everyone else? No? Don't ask me what it means, because I never understood it either.
The mechanics of all this are probably the biggest burdens the book saddles you with because try as I might I just don't know how any of this works and it feels like much of the first book depends on you at least somewhat grasping. But there's not much to hold onto here . . . I get that I don't need a rules book or a flow chart or a long bit of exposition but I'd hope I'm smart enough to figure this out organically and sadly, I am not. But I don't feel like that's totally my fault!
Like most examples of this kind of thing it works better when an actual goal helps to bring things into focus, so Peter getting captured by a mutilated dude who everyone keeps seeing as not-face-shredded but may entirely not be on the right side of sanity (or have Peter's best interests in mind) at least gives people viable reasons to do stuff, even if that stuff ultimately results in a giant battle with more of those shouted chess moves, like two wrestlers who just stand at opposite corners of the ring and snarl weird phrases at each other, until one of those phrases decapitates somebody or blows up a chair or something.
Early on it makes for what I can best describe as a "blocky" experience, the story often feels like its working extra hard to not engage you on any level. Part of this may be because Tepper was still relatively new at this . . . as much as we all like to think that we can just suit up some dudes in armor, put another set in wizard robes and make some dragons circle overhead and call that a fantasy novel, there's a little more to it than that. And there are times when it feels like Tepper is doing her best to tweak the genre but because she perhaps hasn't fully worked out the rules (so she can subsequently break them) the results feel a bit overbaked without any of the studied goofiness that someone like Doris Lessing brought to her attempts to write SF. Sometimes a fish out of water learns its got lungs for air and other times its just gasping.
Matters do improve as we move into the second book. Peter starts to migrate to "has incredible powers, doesn't know how to use incredible powers" with the aid of some handy gamepieces . . . the threats get a little more serious (both the Cap O'Stupidity and The Boots of Ow do have a real sense of "uh-oh" about them) and when his mom shows up things get taken up a notch. Yes, Peter has a Mysterious Past but for once the revelation actually improves things as his mom is one of the bright spots in the trilogy (and eventually gets her own trilogy, which may be why she kind of vanishes after a while) and having Peter interact with someone who isn't a) emotionally unbalanced or traumatized and b) seems to have some idea of what's going on and what the rules are does a lot to make the novel feel more like its trying to tell you a story and less like its getting ready to fight you.
It helps that Tepper dials up the weirdness substantially, with probably the book's most memorable sequence. Set in a remote area and featuring bizarro beings with names like Tallman and Fatman, it changes the tone from "okay fantasy" to "strangely menacing" because it seems to arrive from an area well past left field. It also sets the book on the path that will take the trilogy to the end, with some vague SF overtones that are constantly feinted at without ever arriving at the sweet spot where "tantalizing mystery" and "satisfying explanation" intersect.
This aspect seems to be where Tepper's heart ultimately lies as, once teased, the book tends to veer hard in that direction but whatever she's trying to do here doesn't seem be quite as original as she thinks it is (at least "Doctor Who" stories tinker with this concept) and try as she might she can't distinguish it enough to convince us that we need to care about it. If the world isn't what these people think it is, then what of it? She plays around with the idea that all the gameplaying has messed people up significantly and while there's some truth to that (the source of all those tiny gamepieces isn't good!) its hard to tell if an alternate would be any better or what that alternative would even be. In a sense that's a departure from what her writing would eventually become, where the book would leave no doubt in your mind what this world should like. Here she's a bit more subtle but at the cost of clarity. I barely understand the world that exists on the page here, imagining what an altered version would look like seems to take more imagination than I currently possess.
It’s a direction, though, which is enough to carry you through the rest of the series. By this point it kept me reading, even if I was more curious than fascinated. Tepper manages to give Peter a young-old vibe in his narration (especially as it relays to Silkhands the healer) but brings in one of the more interesting characters far too late in the narrative (she winds up being the star of the third trilogy so that was probably intentional) so even though she makes her presence felt it comes across as strangely tacked on. But it leads to some of the more honest conversations in the book, interesting enough that you wish Tepper has gone this route earlier and ditched all the weird SF aura stuff that haunts the edges of the book without making much of an impact.
By the time we hit the climax old friends who mean nothing to us have returned and the trilogy hints at its own extension . . . Peter and the lady who seems to be his new companion might have fun stories ahead of them but the book cuts out just when that starts to get tantalizing.
It winds up being frustrating, ultimately, because it feels like all these pieces are there for an offbeat fantasy series but Tepper just doesn't have the ability to push it those extra few inches into "weirdly memorable" territory so instead it sits there, floating in the water like a boat without a breeze. What mysteries exist aren't unspooled in a teasing enough fashion to give the whole series a "what's really going on here?" vibe and when revelations do arrive they don't have much of an impact beyond "Okay, guess that explains that." The little bit of promise it shows when Peter and his mom go into the wacky castle isn't sustained over the course of the rest of the book, so there's this sensation of waiting for something to happen that will blow this series open and kick it into high gear. I feel like we need things to be a little more shrouded, a touch of an ache that she only achieves in passing moments and never quite sustained. This is a series that should be vulnerable enough so you can feel when it hurts but its all kind of numb.
And yes, I'm going to hate myself for saying this, but its one of the few times where I've read Tepper where she isn't actively pushing Something to Say and the book does suffer for it. Maybe if she got too up on schooling us the series would have become unreadable but without the vision she'd bring to her later novels, for better or for worse, the whole affair comes across as a bit hollow. The aspects of Tepper novels that both enthralled and irritated the living crap out of me still come to mind years later . . . here she's just purely storytelling and while that would be a strong point of her writing later she's nowhere near the peak of her abilities yet so it renders everything just kind of . . . there. I know there might be a certain level of "careful what you wish for" here and I'm sure in some parallel universe there's a review of an alternate version of this novel that just has me screaming "Why Sheri whyyyy" over and over again. But even that's a reaction of sorts, which is more than you can say here. Where its nice its . . . nice. And where its not its just "eh". Perhaps the other two trilogies bring matters into sharper focus but I shouldn't have to commit to nine books when the first three haven't blown my mind . . . it’s the difference between making you ask for more and promising more of what you didn't wish for. It’s the wide open glory that is Calvinball coupled with someone who insists on writing down rules first, even ones that don't make sense. And by the time you can convince them that they're perhaps missing the point you just don't feel like playing anymore.