This is one of McKillip’s quiet, slow-moving books, even though there’s a war of conquest early on. The word-smithing, as usual, is excellent. The dramatic centerpiece of the story is a bardic contest in which magical powers alter the landscape and inner-scapes of audience members and participants.
Intermittently, the narrative follows the life of a bard who, in his day, was a spectacular failure. Nairn had the innate talent to be the greatest bard of his generation, but singing to pigs and wandering along the coast to hear the songs sung in every village do not adequately prepare one for contests against court-trained bards who are magicians as well.
The frame story is like a counterpoint to the legend of Nairn. Now the central plain is where a school for bards trains hundreds of students to be adequate. Their experiences are the opposite of Nairn’s: they are comfortable, busy, organized, prosperous, social. Phelan has to write a thesis paper to graduate, and decides the easiest route to completion is to re-examine the life and mysterious disappearance of Nairn. As he goes half-heartedly digging into the documents of the past, he begins to see alarming similarities between past and present. Long ago, events and confrontations culminated in a disastrous contest between bards; now a charismatic musician is disrupting court life and calling for a contest, open to all, to determine who shall be the next royal bard.
Some of the characterizations are a delight, especially that of Princess Beatrice, who prefers archeological digs to court parties, and tends to trudge through gala events in mud-spattered dungarees en route to her room. The irate queen mother threatens to pack her off to more genteel surroundings; fortunately, her father is sympathetic, and enthuses over her discoveries.
This is an exquisite book if you want poetic transportation to Once Upon a Time for a while. Bonus: fabulous cover art by Kinuko Y. Craft. ~~ Chris Paige
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