The Gospel of the Knife

by Will Shetterly

TOR, $25.95; 319 pp

This is a standalone sequel to Dogland, which I have not read yet, so I cannot comment on continuity, but I can vouch for this book on its own considerable merits. I would call this one a masterpiece, but that would be peculiarly ironic, for one of the thematic elements of this story is the interplay of compulsions, persuasions, sacrifices, and challenges between the people who want to be masters, those who are willing to be servants, and those who desire freedom.

The story is told in an unusual second person voice, which involves the reader much more subtly than either first person or third. In Part I, ‘Wasteland,’ Chris Mark Nix is 14 years old in 1969. He wears his hair long, he has studied martial arts, he sees the world in terms of how he would draw and write it as a comic book, he is in constant conflict with his father, and he is having a really bad day.

When 3 good ol’ boys take violent exception to his appearance and temerity, they chase him off the road into thick woods. Chris is on his bicycle, and they are on foot, but that is only a slight advantage. In sheer desperation, Chris rides his bike into a pond, hoping not to sink in the mud. To everyone’s utter amazement, Chris actually gets across, but when one of the three pursuers jumps in to give chase, he disappears under the water. And here we see what kind of person Chris is, through the haze of hormones and attitude: when the two standing bullies are too stunned to act, he yells at them to find a stick and pull their buddy out. Wet, puzzled, and spooked, the three return to their truck, leaving a sodden and sore Chris to make his way home. There he gets into a yelling match with his Dad that escalates to such a pitch that Chris runs away from home.

It just gets keeps getting better. He meets a girl with sass and an Afro named CC; they hold hands while they go to the mall, setting off racial tensions every step of the way. Aggressive CC invites him to her home, and Chris gets to go further than he dared hope, until he almost gets his head split open by CC’s outraged Aunt Ida. Then the cops show up. (The dialogue between the cops is spot on, and the interplay is hilarious with horrific implications; teachers should use this scene for character analysis.) They escort Chris to their car when the Aunt declines to press charges, and bring him home to face paternal military justice. But worse than any humiliation or physical pain is the loss of CC.

Then a mysterious stranger shows up with an invitation for Chris to attend a private school, on a full scholarship, because Chris’ World War II grandfather had saved a man’s life. Now that man, Jay Dumont, is wealthy, powerful, and grateful. Once Chris finds out that the Academy is co-ed, he agrees to go.

And now Chris enters the world of the extraordinary, not just the world of extraordinary wealth, but the worlds of miracles and power. Jay Dumont (names are significant) has recently lost a beloved son, Josh, and has decided to groom Chris as a surrogate, because Chris also comes from a bloodline of power. So Chris is given access to the power that works miracles. He can compel people, he can bring the recently dead back to life, and he can recognize others with the bloodlines of power. He is also strongly encouraged to produce an heir.

But in spite of the possibilities and the lure of master of the world status, Chris does not want to compel people, or be compelled. He wants to find out what happened to his predecessor, Josh, he wants to hold his own in the strange world of the privileged, and he wants to find CC.

What Chris finds is the Gospel of the Knife, a good double-meaning title, for it concerns a blade of power, a god-slayer, and it was scribed by a member of a clan of assassins. The mysterious text provides Chris with crucial information which Dumont and his servants had withheld, and Chris decides to act according to the light of conscience.

My favorite moments are Chris’ running commentary on the behaviors of rich men and their offspring, and the mental mobius-strip ride of the Gospel. The next time I see Will Shetterly at a convention, I am going to ask him about his sources, for he must have done enough research to earn a doctorate.

If you loved the controversy at the heart of The DaVinci Code, this is the book for you; others may take umbrage here or there; but I invite readers to read, and think, and evaluate for themselves. It’s a story. Enjoy the ride! – Chris Paige