A few days after I finished Checkmate by Dorothy Dunnett, when the loss of smart, savvy, dashing characters had become a sort of ache, I Googled "books similar to the Lymond Chronicles." I found some blog posts, and some Goodreads lists, and one book kept popping up: Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner. I started it before Christmas, but had to set it aside while I made final tweaks on Golden Eagle. I picked it up again, after, and finished it earlier this week.
The novel is listed as fantasy, because it takes place in the fictional city of Riverside, full of pickpockets, ladies of the evening, gamblers, drunks, urchins, cutthroats - and, most importantly, paid swordsmen. On the Hill, the wealthy stroll through manicured gardens, take their barges out on the river to view fireworks over five course meals, and nibble on iced cakes. Conflicts are not settled personally - how gauche. Instead, swordsmen are hired to challenge an enemy, or an enemy's champion, and the resulting death by sword is sanctioned by law. It reads more like historical fiction in a fictitious world. No magic, no monsters.
Our hero, if you will, is Richard St. Vier, the greatest swordsman in the land. He lives in a set of rented rooms with his lover, Alec - of mysterious, though obviously educated/noble origins. Over the course of the novel, he completes jobs, declines the chance to serve as teacher, and exacts violent revenge.
I went into Swordspoint more or less blind: I didn't read the reviews, and did nothing more than skim the blurb. I ended up really enjoying it.
There's a particular kind of prose I like best, and Kushner's writing is a great example of that: diverse sentence structure; clever pacing of thought, and elegant delivery. Without ever info-dumping, she paints you an image. You can feel the heat and closeness of the fires in the taverns; smell the unwashed patrons, hear their half-drunk laughter. You can perfectly picture Alec's hauteur; appreciate the glimmer of all the rings on his graceful fingers: dazzling. She draws her characters - in appearance and mannerisms - with a deft hand. They stand out as distinct; casting them with actors would be difficult because they are so very much themselves.
This is a book about class divide: the haves and have-nots. Richard the have-not lives by a strict honor code, while the haves who hire him shamelessly seek their own advancement, no matter the cost. There are other commentaries woven throughout, too. About inheritance, and education, and the role - and prejudices against - women. Socially, it's a thoughtful tapestry of the truths of the past, some of which carry through to today, but the novel is never moralizing. There's never that awkward moment when the author turns directly to the reader and says, "When I speak of this, I mean to highlight that it's a bad thing. You know that, right? That it's bad?" I really can't stand it when fiction treats me like I'm stupid, and this book doesn't, thankfully.
I will note that, plot-wise, the book doesn't follow-through on every setup. There are future books in the series, so I wonder if some of those questions will be answered there - whatever happened to Michael Godwin, I wonder?
All told, the book is the literary equivalent of one of those really fancy chocolate truffles. Rich, a bit dark, decadent, lovely, and a quick bite - it's a short novel at 286 pages. A perfect read for a rainy afternoon in a comfy chair; a nice little thoughtful indulgence. Hopefully I'll find time to continue with the rest of the books in Kushner's universe sometime this year.
