...we were taught to listen, and that once you had learned to listen to the dead, the living posed no challenge. [p. 78]
Thara Celehar played a small but pivotal role in Addison's The Goblin Emperor. He is a prelate of the god Ulis and can communicate with the spirits of the recently deceased: in The Goblin Emperor he communed with Maia's murdered relatives, but in The Witness for the Dead he's the focal character (and the narrator), recounting his investigation in the murder of an opera singer in the city of Amalo. He lives alone, in poverty (he's been granted a 'small stipend') and mourns his long-dead lover, a married man. He buys tins of sardines to feed the feral neighbourhood cats, but does not give them names, or let them into his home. He has few friends, and is engaged in political manoeuvring with other religious factions. Though melancholy, he is a fascinating narrator and a thoroughly decent individual.
This was an immensely pleasurable read: the worldbuilding, though sometimes confusing (Addison does not stoop to explain terminology or culture) is splendidly detailed, and Celehar's exercise of his vocation is not sensationalised. I especially enjoyed the scenes at the opera house, where Celehar attempts to discover who might (or indeed who didn't) have a grudge against the dead soprano Arveneän Shelsin, whilst making the acquaintance of producer and composer Pel-Thenhior (who's just written an opera set in a factory, with a goblin mezzo-soprano in the principal role -- something that has never been done before). Celehar's investigations (there is also a plot thread about a dead woman whose husband cut her off from her family, and a plot thread about Celehar's probity being questioned and tested by ordeal) are well-constructed, and the slow subtle changes in his life are beautifully conveyed. I liked this book (bought a couple of years ago) so much that, on finishing, I immediately bought and began to read the sequel, The Grief of Stones. Review soon!
No comments:
Post a Comment