Maledicte.
Feb. 20th, 2011 09:06 amWhile I'm talking about dark fantasy mad why I like it, let me get around to reviewing one of the books I read last week – Maledicte by Lane Robins. The story is reminiscent of The Count of Monte Cristo, set in a world and a prose style aesthetically similar to Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel novels; the result is a very messy dark fantasy revenge-romance, delightful and unexpected in any number of ways, and deeply satisfying in ways that the last dark fantasy revenge story I read, Joe Abercrombie's Best Served Cold, doesn't quite match up to.
Very Light Spoilers follow -- nothing is openly stated that the book doesn't disclose in its first few chapters.
Maledicte is the nom de guerre adopted by Miranda, a girl whose best friend was kidnapped by a nobleman – his father. In order to win her friend back and avenge herself on the nobleman, she disguises herself as a boy, half-accidentally, and is 'adopted' by a lecherous and decadent nobleman who promises to teach her patience, courtly manners, and swordmanship, albeit at a steep cost. When Maledicte is finally introduced to the king's court, he is found uncouth but intriguing, and impatiently builds his way towards a position in which his revenge is possible, through a landscape of blackmail, poisoning, and treachery in several forms. But as in every worthy revenge story, the costs and complications of revenge are far greater than they seem. The story has not one but two climaxes, and brilliant and unexpected twists and reversals of fortune that pile one upon the other (much like the growing body count as Maledicte eliminates obstacles), from the continued interference of the dead goddess of vengeance (but what does death mean to a god?), to the complex loyalty of her only confidante, to the amorous attentions of the king himself, which cannot be consummated without exposing Miranda's secret. Every one of these twists is handled so deftly that I cannot wait for the sequel – whose apparent protagonist is the one person in Maledicte I most loathed, and whose death I rooted for in vain – though perhaps, in the end, the best revenge is adding a verse to a jump-rope rhyme, and leaving it to simmer.