“It would be a great deal easier,” the Myriad said to me, “if you would take a different body.”
“No doubt,” I agreed. “But I do not want a different body.”
“It wouldn’t need to be permanent... It would be far more convenient for the rest of us!" [p. 185]
A young man, Mawat, rides towards his home city of Vastai, accompanied by his aide Eolo. The Raven's Instrument -- an actual raven who symbolises the power of the god known as the Raven -- is expected to die soon, and the Raven's Lease, its human counterpart, must sacrifice himself thereafter. The Lease is Mawat's father, and Mawat has come home to claim his heritage. But when he reaches the Raven Tower, it is to find his uncle Hibal in the Lease's place, and his father accused of having fled rather than do his duty. Mother Zezume, votary of the God of the Silent, and Lord Radihaw, of the Council of Directions, both stand with Hibal, and counsel Mawat to accept the situation.
So far, so familiar. But it's not that simple. The narrator has not yet made themselves apparent, and they tell two distinct stories: their own history, in first person, and their observations of Mawat and Eolo, told in the second person -- not to Mawat himself, but to Eolo. It took me quite a while to work out what the narrator and Eolo have in common: it's a refusal to be shaped to others' convenience.
This is an alt-medieval world in which gods are real, and when they speak their words must be 'made true': if they speak an impossibility, or something beyond their power to make true, they will suffer and perhaps die. There are many gods in this novel, some of them more relatable than others: the Myriad, the Raven, the God of the Silent, the Mounder-Up of Skulls. These gods were taught language by humans, and they grant favours in return for worship and loyalty. If necessary, they will wage war on their worshippers' behalf. There are ways, for humans and deities alike, of tricking gods, of enslaving them, of misdirecting them: our narrator, who is known as 'Strength and Patience', recounts some of these along with their own story, which starts (more or less) with trilobites.
This is a fascinating novel, and I think the fascination for me hinges on two factors: the narrative voice of Strength and Patience, and the balance of the first- and second-person narratives. Told from another viewpoint, the story itself might not be as engaging, and the ending would seem more abrupt. The Raven Tower would be a very different, and much more conventional, novel if narrated by Eolo, much less Mawat. Leckie has taken a familiar plot (it took me a while to spot all the Hamlet consonances!) and transformed it into something quite new, many-layered and with a unique voice. I loved it, and would love to read more about this world, these gods, these mortals.
Fulfils (or half-fulfils) the 'second-person narrative' prompt for the 52 books in 2022 challenge.
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