Tigana, by Guy Gavriel Kay
Feb. 13th, 2013 12:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
semperfionaHaving posted yesterday about a new book I just read, today I'll tell you about an old book I've read a dozen times and am currently listening to on Audible during my daily commute.
There's a short list of books I have been in the habit of rereading every year or 18 months for the last twenty years or so. This is one of them. I'm trying to figure out what these books have in common, and I'm not sure what it is. One element, particularly strong here and in Kay's Fionavar Tapestry (also on my short list--and I have just convinced my daughter to read it for the first time herself), is something I tend to call "glory", which is not the prideful accumulation of adulation that is often meant by the word. I think I am coming at it from the other side, not of receiving acclamation but of *wanting to acclaim* the person. It's admiration of a selfless and/or sacrificial act, of truly acting for the greater good without heed to one's own losses.
Another aspect is that Kay's writing just seems to get me right in the heart. It's particularly affecting in the audiobook; the narrator (Simon Vance) is fantastic. Obviously, I know what happens in the end; when a doomed character first appears I often cry for their ultimate fate. But this time, every single scene (I exaggerate only slightly) is making me weep. Makes driving interesting, I must say. But there's something I find valuable and life-affirming and positive in the tears. Calling it catharsis doesn't feel exactly right, but it's somewhere in the neighborhood.
Oh, right, you want to know what it's about? It's about names, the power of names, about dreadful loss that cannot be shared with anyone who didn't experience that loss themselves, and about the struggle to drive out evil tyranny and bring a beautiful thing back into the world. All of the above is exactly literal, not just thematic. The evil tyrant isn't a Sauron, doing evil just because he's evil: he's a bereaved father who took a horrible vengeance. The good guys are flawed in interesting ways as well, and sometimes suborn themselves unintentionally.
There's a short list of books I have been in the habit of rereading every year or 18 months for the last twenty years or so. This is one of them. I'm trying to figure out what these books have in common, and I'm not sure what it is. One element, particularly strong here and in Kay's Fionavar Tapestry (also on my short list--and I have just convinced my daughter to read it for the first time herself), is something I tend to call "glory", which is not the prideful accumulation of adulation that is often meant by the word. I think I am coming at it from the other side, not of receiving acclamation but of *wanting to acclaim* the person. It's admiration of a selfless and/or sacrificial act, of truly acting for the greater good without heed to one's own losses.
Another aspect is that Kay's writing just seems to get me right in the heart. It's particularly affecting in the audiobook; the narrator (Simon Vance) is fantastic. Obviously, I know what happens in the end; when a doomed character first appears I often cry for their ultimate fate. But this time, every single scene (I exaggerate only slightly) is making me weep. Makes driving interesting, I must say. But there's something I find valuable and life-affirming and positive in the tears. Calling it catharsis doesn't feel exactly right, but it's somewhere in the neighborhood.
Oh, right, you want to know what it's about? It's about names, the power of names, about dreadful loss that cannot be shared with anyone who didn't experience that loss themselves, and about the struggle to drive out evil tyranny and bring a beautiful thing back into the world. All of the above is exactly literal, not just thematic. The evil tyrant isn't a Sauron, doing evil just because he's evil: he's a bereaved father who took a horrible vengeance. The good guys are flawed in interesting ways as well, and sometimes suborn themselves unintentionally.
