The book of censored poetry was the only thing he’d ever stolen from the Palace. Well. Except for the government, of course. [loc. 7710]
Sequel to The Hands of the Emperor. This is much further along the axis towards traditional 'epic' fantasy -- it has quests, and journeys through magical realms, and parallel universes -- and I probably wouldn't have started reading if I hadn't already formed strong positive attachments to the protagonists. It's well over a thousand pages in print, and the pacing is uneven: but any novel featuring Cliopher Mdang, now Viceroy of Zunadh and still working on his promise to light a new hearth-fire for the world, promises something extraordinary.
A great deal happens in the first third of the novel, including a realisation and a reunion that I would have expected to occur rather later in a more traditional novel. At the Feet of the Sun then becomes less tumultuously eventful, though still far from dull. There is a great deal of travelling, with particular emphasis on navigational techniques (a strong Polynesian flavour here), and plenty of authentic interaction between the mythic and the mundane. Cliopher has surely now fulfilled his ambition to be sung of in the Lays, and both he and His Retired Radiancy perform feats that are the stuff of legend. Of course, they are still mortal men, and communication is not necessarily their forte. Cliopher in particular spends quite a bit of the novel fiercely lying to himself. On which subject ...
Cliopher (much to the distress of many, I suspect) is one of the most vividly-drawn asexual characters I've encountered in fiction. His lack of sexual interest is suggested in The Hands of the Emperor, but here it's explicit. He is dismayed to discover that his mythological heroes, Aurelius Magnus and Elonoa’a, were lovers. ('It did not matter, Cliopher told himself fiercely, that they were lovers as well as friends. They could still be the greatest of friends. They could still be fanoa, reaching across cultures and across oceans and even across the divide between the human worlds and Sky Ocean, the realms of the gods. It did not matter what he, Cliopher, had thought they were, or what he wanted. It did not.' [8493] And, discussing it with someone who's asked if Cliopher dreamt of kissing: 'it had always been so important to me that in the stories they were not lovers. That two people could love each other like that, but it didn’t need to be about sex. That you could find someone who was your match. Your other half. Your equal.” [12922]) Some of the scenes between Cliopher and his beloved made me weep: some of them made me angry. There's no definitive resolution in this volume, but the prognosis is positive.
There are some parts of the plot that feel unfinished. I'd have liked more of Cliopher's family, especially his mother and sister (who I suspect will get a spin-off novella of their own, about their adventures on holiday with Conju). Ser Rhoden turns out to harbour some enticingly batshit theories, which I hope will be explored in a future tale. The situation with 'Domina Black' (I wholeheartedly agree with Cliopher's opinion of her) is still a prickly one, and there are some lacunae between The Redoubtable Pali Avramapul (review forthcoming) and this volume which I'm eager to have filled.
I didn't adore this the way I adored The Hands of the Emperor, but the characters are fascinating and the cosmology vivid and fresh. Perhaps At the Feet of the Sun suffered from being a middle volume: I understand there is a third novel planned, which will complete Cliopher's story. I shall very likely preorder it!
Fulfils the ‘high fantasy’ rubric (here defined as 'set in an alternative world that is independent of the real world') of the 52 books in 2023 challenge.
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