The Chronicles of Elantra

Cast in Shadow (Chronicles of Elantra, #1) The Chronicles of Elantra is a fantasy series by Michelle Sagara, who also writes as Michelle West and Michelle Sagara West.  I’ve read the first four of the current eight, and expect I’ll go on to read the rest of them.  The series begins with Cast in Shadow; and as the books follow one directly upon the other you’ll want to read them in order.

The series takes place in the City of Elantra, capital city of the Empire, and concerns the doings of a young woman named Kaylin, a member of the Hawks.  The Law of the Empire is whatever the Emperor wants it to be, and it is enforced by three related organizations: the Swords, the Hawks, and the Wolves.  The Swords are the peacekeepers,  the city guard.  The Hawks do some patrolling as well, but they are effectively the detectives, the investigators.  The Wolves…well, perhaps the less said about the Wolves, the better.

Policing Elantra is a difficult job, not least because of the number of different races who live in the city.  The Dragons (an immortal race of great power) are not usually a problem; they are few in number, and as the Emperor is a Dragon they answer only to him.  The Barrani are another immortal race, nearly as powerful as the Dragons.  Kaylin has friends among them, to the extent Barrani have friends: they are your basic Faery folk, beautiful, powerful, and extremely perilous to mere mortals.  And then there are a variety of mortal races: humans, the lion-like Leontines, the winged Aerians, and so forth.

Kaylin herself is not native to the city of Elantra; or, at least, not to the part of the city that answers to the Empire.  In addition to the city proper there are the bad parts of town: the seven fiefs, in each of which the fief lord is the only law.  Kaylin is an orphan from the fief called Nightshade; she’s rude, never on time, and mostly unfit for the company of civilized people (although she’s improving).  The thing she wants most in the world is to be a Hawk, and keep people safe; and more than that, to keep children safe.  And she’s better suited to doing that than many; ever since the mysterious marks appeared on her arms and legs when she was a child, she’s been able to heal.  She’s kept it as secret as she can; but she still moonlights with the midwife’s guild and at the foundling home.

But, you see, there’s more to those marks than simply a childhood mystery; and in a magical city there’s more to the fiefs than simply slums where the Emperor’s men don’t go.  The world of Elantra has hidden depths, and I’ve got a suspicion that Kaylin is going to have to plumb most of them or die trying.

The books aren’t perfect; although Elantra is a port city, and there’s supposedly an empire, there’s no real sense of much of anything anywhere outside the city.  This might simply be due to Kaylin’s point of view; she’s smart, and very good at picking up anything she considers “practical”, but amazingly skilled at keeping out any information that she can’t see a use for.  On top of that, Kaylin is the sort of fantasy hero I find rather annoying: she has great magical powers that she doesn’t understand, and mostly don’t know how to use, but whenever she gets into a serious scrape (i.e., at the end of each book) she somehow knows exactly what to do.  (Andre Norton used to do the same thing.)  On the other hand…there seem to be reasons for it.  I’m getting the sense that Kaylin is in some way a pawn for some power we’ve not yet met, and that when the chips are down the proper actions are being funneled to her.  But the nature of that power is not clear to me (nor is it clear to the wise and powerful in Elantra, who are consequently keeping a remarkably close eye on her).

But all that’s by the way.  The books are entertaining, and there are some interesting moral issues explored, particularly regarding the protection of children; i.e., just when is it licit to take innocent life for the greater good?  And for once it’s nice not to have to offer cautions about sex and language.  Which is not to say that there’s no swearing in these books; there’s a lot of it.  But most of the time we just hear that Kaylin swore violently in Leontine or Aerian or Barrani or some such; she prides herself in knowing how to swear in all of the languages extant in Elantra, and seldom stoops to swearing in the human tongue.

So…good fun, if you like this sort of thing. 

Bootstrapping the Interior Life: Perseverance

boots_small.jpgSee all posts in this series.

One of the hardest things to do in the interior life is to persevere: to keep going, to keep praying every day, especially when, for some reason, we miss a day.  It’s only natural.  If you’re learning to play an instrument, and you don’t practice, you don’t want to face your instructor; and if you continue not to practice, you’ll soon not be taking lessons.

But the fact is, you’re sometimes going to miss a day.  Sometimes you’ll just not feel like it, and you’ll go with that; other times you’ll honestly forget; other times something will come up that fills up the time you had available.

This morning, for example.  I was a little under the weather yesterday, and so I really needed my sleep; and I woke up about 4 AM, and when that happens I usually have trouble getting back to sleep.  Now, my alarm goes off at 5:45, so that I have time to pray Morning Prayer; and then I wake up the rest of the family at 6:15.

This morning, I not only got back to sleep, but I woke up at 6:15.  The alarm was going, but it’s a clock radio, and the volume had been turned down all the way.  I hadn’t heard it.  Instead, I woke up at the last possible minute I could get up without inconveniencing my family, having gotten the maximum possible amount of sleep.

Me, I call this a blessing.

But it meant that I didn’t have time to pray this morning.  This happens, and in this case it’s not that I forgot, or that I chose not to.  Sometimes it is.

The important thing, regardless of why you miss a prayer time, is to let it go.  Forget it.  Don’t let it make you feel guilty.  It happened; it’s past.  Instead, be sure to pray next time.  When you think of God, remember that He’s calling you, and respond.  The interior life is beginning, and beginning again.

Double Exposure

Rose Davis, daughter of my long-time blogfriend Julie, recently moved to Los Angeles.  She’s a film-lover, and has discovered that while L.A. is a movie town, it’s not so much a film town: 

It’s certainly a movie town but in the most superficial way. People talk about movies and television shows here as a commodity to buy and sell rather than an art form to savor and appreciate. It’s not an attitude I resent or look down on but it makes it difficult to have a philosophical conversation about character and theme when it keeps being diverted to box office totals and filming trivia. So here’s a blog about what I’m watching, films I own and films I like. And trust me, I watch a lot of films.

Her new blog is called “Double Exposure.” 

Junk Folder

I just discovered that someone close to me, someone who shall remain nameless (to protect the guilty), someone who has become known for not seeing e-mails that have been sent to, um, him or her, has been using the Junk folder in uh, his or her, e-mail program as a place to put e-mail messages that, hmm, he or she, wants to look at later.

Let me say that again.

This individual has been using the e-mail program’s Junk folder as a place to stash messages to look at later. (A note to the tech-savvy in my audience: remember what they say about making assumptions.)

We have had a frank and honest exchange of views, and I have agreed that this individual’s use of the Junk folder was based on a plausible model of how to do things, and this individual has promised not to do it any more.

The Count of Monte Cristo

I first read Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo about fifteen years ago, in the unabridged edition from Oxford University Press. Recently Amazon had this same edition on sale as a Kindle book for $2.99 or something of the sort, and I grabbed it. Then it sat; and then, eventually, it became my backup book. Not the main book I was reading, but the one that I read from when I was between other, more gripping books. Because however much you like Dumas, he is seldom fast-paced for long—and The Count of Monte Cristo is a very long book.

I suppose everyone knows the gist of the story. Edmond Dantes, a young sailor with a bright future ahead of him, is falsely accused of being a supporter of the deposed emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, and is confined to the Chateau d’If for over ten years. While in prison he becomes friends with another political prisoner, an aged priest, from whom he learns much about history, culture, and science. In time the priest dies, and Dantes escapes…and retrieves his friend’s fortune, which his friend has left to him. And now, with learning and money it’s time to track down the three men who put him in prison, and commit justice upon them.

That’s the set-up, and it’s the part I chiefly remembered. It’s all fairly straightforward, and frequently harrowing, and while interesting it’s all a real downer.

The part I didn’t remember—the part I fear I didn’t read very carefully or follow all that well—is the part that comes after Dantes escapes. I didn’t enjoy it that much fifteen years ago, because I wanted to follow Dantes’ story…and in the remainder of the book, Dantes, though the prime mover of everything that happens, is usually not the viewpoint character.

And here is where the book really began to fascinate me this time through, and where it moved decidedly into the foreground. See, here’s the thing. In the time that Dantes is in prison, and the subsequent time that he takes to lay his plans, his adversaries have all made their fortunes, married, and had children…and those children are now grown up and preparing to marry themselves. Dantes’ plans must encompass not only the parents but the children. And because of the way of the world, to achieve his aims Dantes must exploit the social networks of the day, the networks of friendship and kinship and elite status. And so indeed, the second part of the book is as much about them as it is about him, and their presence confounds his desire for vengeance.

Fascinating, and amazing, and well-worth your time.

Marriage Posts

I’ve put links to all of the marriage posts I did a couple of months ago on one page; you can find a link to it under “Featured Series”, over there in the sidebar.

Bootstrapping the Interior Life: Dryness

boots_small.jpgSee all posts in this series.

The interior life is just like anything else that you begin with excitement and enthusiasm: the excitement and enthusiasm wear off, and you end up with dryness. You don’t want to sit down and pray; when you do, it seems meaningless and pointless and boring and no fun. That’s the bad news. The good news is that the dryness will come and go.

There are two reasons for this, one human and one divine.

The human reason is what Uncle Screwtape called “the law of undulation”. In any human endeavour, your energy levels go up and down. When you’re feeling energetic, the activity is easy; at other times, you just don’t have as much energy for it. And then, if you’ve got some reason to be tired or sick or exhausted, it’s just so much worse. It’s the same thing that applies to housework, say. Prayer is a human activity, and subject to all of the same circumstances as any other human activity.

The divine reason is that prayer isn’t wholly a human activity; God plays a role, too. Sometimes He makes His presence felt; that’s called “consolation,” and it’s delightful when it happens.

Now, the interior life is about learning to love God with all your mind, soul, heart and strength, i.e., more than anything else, and then to love all other things in due proportion. And here’s the thing: the consolation God grants is not God. It is heady, delightful, intoxicating, and so we naturally want more of it; and it is all too easy to learn to love consolation more than God who grants it. We must learn to love God with our wills rather than with our feelings.

And so God grants us dryness, times when we can choose to love Him even though our feelings rebel. In short, as annoying as it is, dryness is a good thing.

(You might have heard of the Dark Night of the Soul and the Dark Night of the Senses. I’m talking about something much more basic, something that you’ll almost certainly experience on a regular basis. All I have to say about the Dark Nights is that I don’t understand them well enough to say anything worth listening to.)