The Stories of our Lives

I would not have picked up Glen Cook’s “The Black Company” without a recommendation. I would not have even CONSIDERED picking it up. So much for judging a book by its medieval-Darth-Vader-looking cover.

This book is like sushi: at the onset, it does not seem quite appalling - because of the cover art(s), yes, and even the story blurb sounds simplistic, and the universe a little ‘blah’. Raw fish, eww; evil empire and tough mercenaries, bleh.

Then you have a taste, and you have to get the hang of it, because this is not the type of food you are used to. Personally, I had some trouble initially with the military notions of what the company was and how it worked. The all-men cast of rough mercenaries weren’t my type of characters, either, and the way they jumped into the story with nothing but a name made it hard to care about them.

By the time you’ve finished the first plate, however, you’re getting familiar with the dish and you’re ready to appreciate the flavours and construction involved. The Company is hired by a new employer in the first chapters and moves to a new land (this is not a big spoiler, don’t worry), which helps out the reader, because he discovers the land and politics along with the narrator. It is also logical for the men to appear in the story with no real identity as they do, because that is how they would begin their service with the Company, burying their past and often assuming a new name. Plus, these characters are supposed to be hard men, who avoid letting emotions show, so it makes sense that we would only get to know them through their actions at first.

Before you know it, you find out you’re enjoying the story, just like you started to like sushi a lot. The narrator’s ironic pessimism is fresh and smart (and funny), and I liked his “voice”, his way of narrating the events. I also appreciated the exploration of the distinction between evil and good, how there is not necessarily a clear line between the two, or even that one side being evil does not automatically make his opposition the good guy. Another thing I liked was that the characters were not bigger than life; when confronted to moral dilemnas, they don’t rush to declare themselves heroes and initiate great actions: they think on it a little, but all is not black or white, and the job at hand is less abstract than philosophical questions. Then there are the fantasy elements, which are more low-key in the beginning, but are amplified and craftily worked in as the story progresses.

By the time your second plate comes in, your warm up is done and you’re ready for some real flavour. The second book does not deceive, and pushes some of the initial themes further with interesting twists and characters. I’m really enjoying this series.

I saved myself from buying novels two and three with their equally horrible covers by getting the omnibus for the first three books, which I finished recently. The rest of the series will be in my Amazon shopping cart on a future order.

Meanwhile, I’ve got the rest of the Hyperion Cantos waiting on me (once I finish the cute book of mom/daughter essays my mother lent me).

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 3rd, 2008 at 21:04 and is filed under Émilie reads. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.