Usually, once I finish a novel I have a clear
idea about what it is, and how I feel about it. Not in this case. I’m still not
sure if I like Gene Wolfe’s The Shadow of
the Torturer and maybe that’s because I decided to read it on its own
rather than looking at the tetralogy The
Book of the New Sun as a whole. The
Shadow of the Torturer was published
in 1981 and stood by itself for a year until The Claw of the Conciliator,
so it should stand by itself. Reviewing something labelled a ‘Masterwork’ is
daunting because if you don’t like it, then there’s the feeling that there’s
something wrong with you – that you didn’t ‘get it’ – rather than a problem
with novel. Well, bugger that.
Paradoxically, I’ve
found some of the best novels I’ve read are the ones I’ve put down several
times and been drawn back to, forcing myself to get past the twists and turns
of the rabbit hole during those first one hundred pages (strangely, this length
is consistent) and then been drawn in and onwards through to the final page.
I’m still not sure if The Book of the New
Sun falls into this category.
Labelling it a Masterwork must have been
relatively obvious, but classifying it as fantasy must have given some labelling
machine at Orion an apoplexy. It’s set in the future, but hey it’s got swords,
it’s got flying machines, but hey it’s got swords, it’s got advanced technology
indistinguishable from magic, but hey it’s got, no wait, magic? Problem solved. But, this is not the time for genre debates
and they’re all rather boring anyway, so on with the review.
The Book of the New Sun
is the story of Severian of the Torturer’s Guild. Severian narrates his life in
the first person when he is (I assume) an old man and has succeeded to the
throne of the Commonwealth to become the Autarch.
Adopted into the
Torturers’ Guild in the city of Nessus, he grows up learning the art of
excruciation practiced on ‘clients’. The Guild acts at the Autarch’s command,
not asking questions of why they must ask questions. There is little discussion
about their aims in torturing their clients, at times it seems more like a
place of punishment than a tool for truth-seeking.
The first chapters detail
his early years in the guild and his growing loyalty with the revolutionary,
Vodalus. A one-sided bond established after a chance encounter in a graveyard,
it is never quite clear why Severian feels such admiration for Vodalus. Unsure
of whether he belongs in the guild this fascination leads him into a strange
relationship with one of his clients, a woman named Thecla, who is imprisoned
due to her sister being Vodalus’ lover. I never quite believed in these
emotional ties as Severian is an opaque character due to his own unreliable
narration. This is consistent throughout the book as Wolfe rarely dwells on his
characters’ motivations. They do what they do and that’s it. His act of mercy
in helping Thecla commit suicide rather than continue being tortured sees him
exiled to the distant city of Thrax and, at the same time, he is gifted with
the sword Terminus Est. Alongside these plot points Severian explores the local
area revealing an ancient city that has forgotten its own past except for a few
lonely figures holding a candle up to history. The Citadel is a dark, brooding
edifice filled with sects and guilds, yet strangely empty; more like a museum
than a living city. Wolfe doesn’t dwell on detail yet creates an exceptionally
vivid and realistic setting. My only problem here was that each scene/setting
feels a little like the stage of a movie set, filled with props that hide the
emptiness behind. Each place Severian travels through feels isolated and cut
off like islands in the city-sea.
After leaving the
Citadel a series of vignettes (a structure similar to that of Iain M. Banks Consider Pheblas), constructed as
pseudo-parables, describe Severian’s journey from the Citadel of the Torturers
to the borders of the city, Nessus. During his journey through the city,
Severian grapples with uncertainty about whether he did the right thing as he
leaves all that was familiar to him. He finds work as an executioner to earn
money, which further confuses him as he becomes more and more what he thought
he was not.
After being challenged
to a duel, Severian, enters the Botanical Gardens where he has several strange
encounters on his path to collecting his weapon for the fight, which is a
poisonous plant called an avern. The Botanical Gardens is a wondrous creation,
with various sections that somehow entrance visitors into not wanting to leave.
It is here that Wolfe makes the setting of the distant future clear through a
exhibit that Severian and his companions become a part of.
The build-up to the
monmachy (single combat) takes around six chapters and the fight itself is over
in a matter of paragraphs. I found it singularly unsatisfying, not because I
wanted an overworked fight scene, but because Severian’s success doesn’t come
from him, but from a deus ex machina immunity
to the avern’s poison.
This was not the only
thing I found slightly ‘off’ about The
Shadow of the Torturer. Severian’s relationships with the various female
characters are somewhat unconvincing. Although his age is never explicitly
stated, I placed him in his mid to late teens and despite coming from the
cloistered environs of the guild he still manages to be irresistible to the
women he meets. He often talks of love, yet this never comes across as genuine.
This may be intentional as Severian is narrating his own life and this how he
interprets his memories, but it still jarred.
Wolfe is an incredibly
literate writer; he uses language with purpose – you get the impression that
every word is meticulously chosen – and this could be a barrier to some
readers. I found myself reaching for the dictionary every couple of pages. The
only other writer I’ve had to do that with is China Mieville, who counts Wolfe
as one of his influences.
The Book of the New Sun
is not an accessible book and whether or not it is worth the work involved is
up to the individual reader. I found myself searching for hidden meaning, but
found it only rarely as I’m sure much of it went straight over my head. In a
little metafictional tongue-twisting, Wolfe (via Severian) cops to his
intentions.
“…everything, whatever happens, has three
layers of meaning.”…
(I’m
jumping ahead here to the third meaning)
“And the third meaning?” Dorcas asked.
“The third is the transsubstantial meaning.
Since all objects have their ultimate origin in the Pancreator, and all were
set in motion by him, so all must express his will – which is higher reality.”
“You’re saying that what we saw was a sign.”
I shook my head. “The book is saying that everything
is a sign.”
From what I’ve read from
others more Wolfe-wise than I, he is using the Book of the New Sun as allegorical
vehicle for some proselytising. Now, I’ve got no problem with a little
preaching. Hellfire and brimstone make great fantasy, but there’s still got to
be a story. Now, as I’ve only read the first book, having decided to judge them
individually as that was how they’re published, and not having read the Bible,
I can’t say whether this is true, but if that’s your thing, then this may be
the book for you. In the end, I’m still unsure if I actually like this book.
There is no doubt that it is an important piece of literature, and has
influenced many modern writers, but somehow by its end I felt like I had just
read an academic text rather than a work of fiction. I will be reading onwards
with the next books in the series: The
Claw of the Conciliator, The Sword of the Lictor, The Citadel of the Autarch;
and perhaps I will have a far different opinion at the end than I do now. And
that may be a good thing, for anything worthwhile does not come easily or
simply.
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About the Reviewer: Craig Leyenaar is completing an MA (Writing) at Warwick University and then will be prostrating himself before the publishing world in hopes of being granted access. His television was taken away at a young age for no good reason, but was soon replaced with books. He has stuck with them ever since and now after twenty years of reading them he finally feels ready to comment. His tastes include everything from China Mieville and M John Harrison to Isaac Asimov and Peter F. Hamilton to David Gemmell and Terry Pratchett to - he better stop there otherwise there won't be room for anything else.
2 comments:
Craig, part of the problem is that it is a pretty unified series that benefits from a holistic consideration, but at the risk of getting too personal, the most astounding thing about New Sun is that it is an intensely religious work written by an ambiguously terrible character - at times heroic, at times wonder working, and at times despicable. Your review states that you haven't read the bible, and that is fine, but I can't imagine understanding Wolfe without "getting" some of his spiritual references. Every human character is named after a saint, and those names have something to do with their story. For example, Catherine and her handmaids - all beheaded saints. Knowing who Dorcas is from religious stories (in the Bible also known as Tabitha) would already let you make sense of her appearance and the note in the Inn of Lost Loves later.
In other words, this is the trickiest of allegorical texts, one that might perhaps undercut its own salvation in the long run, and is sophisticated enough to put the arguments against religion in the mouth of a very sympathetic character right at the beginning (when Thecla notes how absurd it is that the Master of the Universe would do nothing but ask for the weak to defend Him, and that He would do nothing when change is possible, but punish all when change was impossible). Shadow of the Torturer really spoke to me the first time I read it (as a fourth or fifth grader) and rereadings only deepened it. I think it works on its own, but if you are not of an introverted and conflicted spiritual turn (and in this regard I do mean a rather orthodox spiritual turn) then perhaps much of its depth and power will simply not quite work out. There are a thousand other reasons to love the series, such as Wolfe's uncanny ability to juxtapose two seemingly unrelated things and draw a pattern of conclusion metonymically, coupled with the fact that the stakes are extremely high. In addition, even the deus ex machina has like four or five levels of "explanation" - for the text insists that Triskele was "the smallest of those dead". And a Triskele is a tripod used in the worship of gods, particularly the sun god. Wolfe is a fabulous artist - but the lack of any biblical or Catholic Saint background would, I think, be possibly crippling in your enjoyment of New Sun in particular.
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