Sunday, November 25, 2018

2018/75: Freedom and Necessity -- Steven Brust and Emma Bull

Beside your letter, as empirical and sensible as any Rationalist might pen, mine seems full of "a host of furious fancies." Well, I am resolved to let our mystery spin itself out as a philosopher's experiment. [loc. 146]
Reread on the occasion of its becoming available in ebook format. Apparently I first read this in 1997: original review here.
Freedom and Necessity is set in 1849. James Cobham is presumed dead after a boating accident, until his cousin Richard receives a letter from him: he's working as a groom at an inn near Portsmouth, and recalls nothing of the last few months. The two enter into correspondence, trying to deduce what might have befallen James, and why, and at whose hand. Cue dastardly plots, railway journeys, cross-dressing, plenty of swashbuckling, and scenes of domesticity featuring Friedrich Engels.

Given the authors and the publisher (Tor), it's tempting to approach this as a fantasy novel: however, it's more of a historical novel with fantastical undertones. It's an epistolary novel, and the four letter-writers have different perspectives on the supernatural. Kitty takes opium and is prone to mysticism; her lover Richard regards cold iron and mistletoe as sensible precautions; their cousin Susan is enormously pragmatic and clear-sighted; and James believes in revolution, the freedom of the workers, and dialectical necessity.

On rereading, I wondered whether the two authors had initially intended to write a novel of the fantastic and then been drawn in by the complex history of the class struggle in the mid-nineteenth century. There's a great deal of discussion of Chartism, workers' rights, social mores (and how they may be sidestepped or subverted), et cetera. But I don't think it's accidental that the hints of the supernatural never coalesce into anything definite. There are magical rites, in the background of the novel: but whether these have any effect on reality (except for the realities of those, innocent or otherwise, who are victims of those rites) is open to discussion. There are characters who believe that they are performing magic. There are scenes where even the most level-headed observer (Susan!) are not quite sure of what they are observing. (And there are a couple of descriptions which seemed fantastical to me -- a very ugly gnomish coachman, a man who seems to cast a fatal spell on a young woman -- though are not treated as such by the text.) But everything's deniable.

Freedom and Necessity is a long novel, and a complex one: some events are only ever alluded to, never described, while others are told and retold as James, Susan, Kitty and Richard write to one another, and write (privately, and with different motives) in their journals. Plenty of unreliable narration here! But once I'd fallen into the rhythm of the book and the company of the characters, it was, again, a delight to read. As well as the political and philosophical elements, there's an exciting adventure story here, and an epic romance between two strong individuals. And though the occasional Americanism jars, the overall tone is reminiscent of the more exciting parts of Victorian literature.