Review: Lord of Emperors, Kay
Kate Nepveu
more importance than mighty events of war and succession and holy
faith. It is always so. The apprentice, decades after, might recall
an announcement of war as having taken place the day the chambermaid
finally went up to the loft with him. The long-awaited birth of a
healthy child will resonate more for parents than the report of an
invading army on the border or the consecrating of a sanctuary. . . .
The great events of an age appear, to those living through them, as
backdrops only to the vastly more compelling dramas of their own
lives, and how could it be otherwise?"
--_Lord of Emperors_, Guy Gavriel Kay
The second book in Guy Gavriel Kay's Sarantine Mosaic diptych, _Lord
of Emperors_, marvelously completes the story begun in _Sailing to
Sarantium_. Indeed, it is only upon reading _Lord of Emperors_ that
it becomes clear that _Sarantium_ was, in large part, simply setting
the stage for the action to follow.
In _Sarantium_, the mosaicist Caius Crispus journeyed to Sarantium to
assist in Valerius II's rebuilding of the Great Sanctuary; the old
Sanctuary burnt in the Victory Riots which nearly cost Valerius his
throne. (Those familiar with the history of the Byzantine Empire will
immediately recognize Valerius as an analogue of Justinian. A basic,
encyclopedia-style overview of the history of our world during this
time is recommended, though not required, and adds a richer texture to
the book's events.) During his journey and arrival at the Sarantine
court, Crispin began to come to terms with his grief and anger over
losing his family to plague. The tale of his journey crossed that of
a number of different people; as the title of the series suggests, the
story is structured as a mosaic and composed of a number of different
narrators and narratives.
The degree of care behind the crafting of this mosaic is revealed in
part by the two books' relationship. For instance, just one of the
viewpoint characters from _Sarantium_ never re-appears in the
series--because he is dead by the time the main story takes place.
All of the rest re-appear later in the diptych, sometimes in a more
prominent role than suggested by their first introduction.
This use of characters also complements the plot, which has much to do
with how the past affects the present. _Lord of Emperors_ opens with
an Eastern doctor, Rustem of Kerakek, saving the life of Shirvan the
Great, King of Kings of Bassania. Rustem is then sent to Sarantium to
observe for his King, who has the balance of power between the
Sarantine Empire and Bassania much in mind--particularly with regard
to a possible reconquest of Batiara, the fallen birthplace of the
Empire. The question of Batiara is tied up with its Queen, Gisel,
fled from an assassination attempt to find herself a pawn at
Valerius's court; with Valerius's coolly calculated passion to return
the Empire to its days of unified glory; and with other characters'
old pains and obsessions--all of which will collide to determine the
course of history.
The events of the plot also flow from a major theme of the work, the
need to balance the intellect and the emotions. The ability or
failure to do this drives the book's events and is reflected in the
three central women of the plot, who are so brilliant they cast their
own shadow-characters. (While the men of the book are also remarkable
and reflect the struggle for balance, they do not drive the events of
the book the same way as the women do.) Though the characters reflect
themes, they are not mere allegorical stick-figures. Far from it, the
major characters are fully three-dimensional, created with a perhaps
unusual--but welcome--acknowledgment of the complexities and
contradictions of human relationships. Like one character early on,
who "wondered . . . how strange people were, that even the fairest day
should not be without its sorrow," the reader is likely to experience
layers of contrasting emotions toward many of the characters and
events of the book.
The theme of balancing intellect and emotions also is a comment on
art, a constant presence in Kay's books. I feel that the Sarantine
Mosaic, as a work of art, achieves this balance very well, and in a
way most suited to my personal taste out of all Kay's novels. The
book contains whirlwind sequences of action, heart-stopping moments of
suspense and emotion, and the intellectual pleasure seeing it
all--structure, plot, characters--fit together. The art within the
book--Crispin's mosaics, of course, but also the chariot races and
even Strumosus's food--also reflects the interaction between the twin
impulses of reason and passion, intellect and emotion.
Art, of course, is not just a comment on or reflection of life, but
also an attempt to preserve it. From the characters' recognition of
this, it is but a short step to the title, which does *not*, as one
may think, refer to religion:
"And how many people would die in achieving all of this? Is
it not vanity? To believe we can act like a god? We aren't.
Time claims all of us."
"The Lord of Emperors? It does, but are there no ways to be
remembered, doctor, to leave a mark, on stone, not on water?
To have . . . been here?"
Art might prevent one's name from being writ on water; however, the
literal, medical attempts to preserve life are provided, of course, by
Rustem. At the start of _Lord of Emperors_, I was unsure why another
character was being introduced; however, a medical doctor balances the
plot and themes nicely--someone to perform the medical techniques,
someone to remind everyone what *else* the struggle for civilization
rests upon (a question first raised in _Sarantium_), _and_ someone
whose culture is based on understanding and accepting the interplay of
mind and soul. (Rustem is also, fortunately for the balance of
intellect and emotion within the work, an interesting and enjoyable
person to spend time with.)
As discussed above, the use of characters complements the plot's key
concern with the past's effect on the present. The structure of both
the book and of the diptych also reflect this. _Lord of Emperors_ is
divided internally into two books, each of which focus largely on a
single day and night; one centers on a wedding, the other on a chariot
race. (As might be inferred from the relatively short period of time
covered, the pace of the book is much faster than _Sarantium_.) The
two halves are tied together by the image of litters carried in the
night, one dark, the other light, haunting the memories of those who
see them, either in person or in the mind's eye.
The overall structure of the Sarantine Mosaic in something like an
elaborate spiral, with events reflecting prior events but not
paralleling them, as time and people have progressed in the meantime.
The best example of this is probably the closing scene of _Lord of
Emperors_, which alone has echoes of at least three different spots in
the two books (and which I at first thought out of place, but upon
reflection found entirely fitting). This structure is ornamented by
small touches which connect it with the larger world, such as the
reminder of the significance of history which opens this review,
echoed throughout the book:
Somewhere in the world, just then, a longed-for child was born
and somewhere a labourer died, leaving a farm grievously
undermanned with the spring fields still to be ploughed and
the crops all to be planted. A calamity beyond words.
and what may be a small Tolkien homage in Fotius the sandalmaker's
reappearance towards the end of the book. One of these touches adds a
degree of poignancy to the characters' struggles to leave their mark:
as _Lord of Emperors_ takes place, a prosperous merchant has left his
tent in the night and wandered into the desert, seeking answers; we
know the resulting religion will greatly change Sarantium, as its
analogue did Constantinople:
By the time the boy in the chariot retired eighteen years
later only two names in the long history of the Sarantium
Hippodrome would have won more races, and no one who followed
him would do so. There would be three statutes to [him] in
the spina to be torn down with all the others, seven hundred
years after, when the great changes came.
Time and history move on, and much is lost, but some things may be
fortunate enough to survive. Crispin, Valerius, Alixana, Gisel and
the rest are vivid enough that their lives will survive at least in my
mind, and hopefully in the minds of many others, now and in years to
come.
%T Lord of Emperors
%A Kay, Guy Gavriel
%C New York
%I HarperPrism
%D 2000
%G 0-06-105121-7
%P 531pp
%S The Sarantine Mosaic
%V Book Two
%O hardcover
Kate
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"I want peace on earth and goodwill toward men."
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thing." --_Sneakers_
DavidBilek
>
> -review snipped-. Read it immediately.
>
Thank you for the wonderful review. I just finished reading
the Sarantine Mosaic as well and you said it much better
than I could have. It's reviews like this that make RASFW
worth reading despite the rising barbarian tides of off-topic
debates.
I'm not sure that the duology grabbed me as instantly as
Tigana did... probably because of the format, it builds more
slowly, but I also think much more richly. In retrospect I
think it is easily the best of Kay's work so far. At this point
Kay is, in my mind, rivalled only by Iain Banks at his peak
form (eg much of Use of Weapons) in terms of combining both
stylistic excellence and pure storytelling.
If I were filthy rich, I'd offer Kay an even million for a piece that
analogues either the beginning (think Edward III / Black Prince)
of the Hundred Years War, or the War of the Roses. Or the
Crusades, though I believe I read that Kay has said he doesn't
want to do anything with the Crusades. (He may be along to
correct me if I'm wrong). Actually, now that I think about it I
could probably come up with a list a page long...
-David
Stefan Raets
On Mon, 31 Jul 2000 23:54:33 -0400, Kate Nepveu <kate....@yale.edu>
wrote:
--- great review snipped ---
It's remarkable to see that you selected the same 2 excerpts
(contrasting historical events with personal drama) as I did when
trying to compose a review. They apply to many of Kay's works, I
think - see also "Al-Rassan", "Arbonne", etc. So many of his works
describe the impact of personal lives on history and vice versa.
Reading your review makes me want to go back and read the Mosaic
again. Thanks!
--
* Stefan Raets
* Remove the spamblocker for personal replies.
d...@faucet.monger.net
DavidBilek <david...@aol.com> wrote:
[Kay's writing]
>If I were filthy rich, I'd offer Kay an even million for a piece that
>analogues either the beginning (think Edward III / Black Prince)
>of the Hundred Years War, or the War of the Roses. Or the
>Crusades, though I believe I read that Kay has said he doesn't
>want to do anything with the Crusades. (He may be along to
>correct me if I'm wrong). Actually, now that I think about it I
>could probably come up with a list a page long...
He did the Crusades, though. The appearance of Geraud de Chervalles
in _The Lions of Al-Rassan_ roughly paralell's the beginning of the
Second Crusade.
More importantly, I suspect the themes of a Crusade analogue would
be similar to _Lions_, anyway.
(Having said that, my own preference is for the German Emperor
Frederick II. I susect a lot could be made of a character who
was referred to in his own time as "the wonder of the world."
Of course, Frederick was involved in a Crusade, too, but not much
of one...)
-Dennis Higbee
Kate Nepveu
> Kate Nepveu kate....@yale.edu wrote:
> Thank you for the wonderful review. I just finished reading
> the Sarantine Mosaic as well and you said it much better
> than I could have. It's reviews like this that make RASFW
> worth reading despite the rising barbarian tides of off-topic
> debates.
Stop it, you're making me blush.
> I'm not sure that the duology grabbed me as instantly as
> Tigana did... probably because of the format, it builds more
> slowly, but I also think much more richly. In retrospect I
> think it is easily the best of Kay's work so far.
I think it's probably the one I like best, because it does tug the
heart-strings in just the manner I prefer. At present, I'd think it's
the most richly detailed and carefully structured of his works, but
that might just be because I've been thinking of the duology so much
and not the other ones.
> If I were filthy rich, I'd offer Kay an even million for a piece that
> analogues either the beginning (think Edward III / Black Prince)
> of the Hundred Years War, or the War of the Roses. Or the
> Crusades, though I believe I read that Kay has said he doesn't
> want to do anything with the Crusades. (He may be along to
> correct me if I'm wrong). Actually, now that I think about it I
> could probably come up with a list a page long...
Heh. This is one of the few good things about *not* knowing much
history...
On a slight tangent, it's nice to see Islam, or analogues thereof,
appearing in more of the fantasy (that I read, at least). I'm going
to have to read up on the founding of the religion, at least, before I
dive back into Thomas Harlan's Oath of Empire series.
Kate Nepveu
> It's remarkable to see that you selected the same 2 excerpts
> (contrasting historical events with personal drama) as I did when
> trying to compose a review. They apply to many of Kay's works, I
> think - see also "Al-Rassan", "Arbonne", etc.
It's been a while since I read those, unfortunately. One thing I did
think of, but couldn't quite work in, is how the small choices of
personal dramas (not the grand obsessions, now) change history,
too--and sometimes grace is found in not *knowing* it. (See below for
spoilered explanation.)
> So many of his works
> describe the impact of personal lives on history and vice versa.
> Reading your review makes me want to go back and read the Mosaic
> again. Thanks!
No, thank you.
The one I really wanted to include I decided might lead a reader in
the direction of a spoiler, unfortunately.
And now for the
REALLY *HUGE* SPOILERS.
First, the quote:
"Somewhere men were racing horses, ploughing fields, children were
playing, or crying, or labouring at hard tasks in the world. Ships
were sailing. It was raining, snowing, sand blew in a desert, food
and drink were being taken, jests made, oaths uttered, in piety or
rage. Money changed hands. A woman cried a name behind shutters.
Prayers were spoken in chapels and forests and before sacred, guarded
flames. A dolphin leaped in the blue sea. A man laid tesserae upon a
wall. A pitcher broke on a well rim, a servant knew she would be
beaten for it. Men were losing and winning at dice, at love, at war.
Cheiromancers prepared tablets that besought yearning or fertility or
extravagant wealth. Or death for someone desperately hated for longer
than one could ever say."
Second, the grace of not knowing how your actions might affect
history: I'm thinking of Crispin not turning in Pertennius, of
course. I think it might have been almost worse for Crispin to know
that Pertennius killed Valerius when he might have survived otherwise,
than for Alessan to know about [what the eunuch decides not to tell at
the end] in _Tigana_. Imagine: on one hand, invasion averted, love
found again, but on the other, work destroyed, shadow of guilt and the
deceased over the new relationship... what a mess. (Which is part,
too, of what I meant by how complicated my reactions, at least, were
to the plot. I found myself sort of rooting piecemeal for things and
people, which of course doesn't work.)