Kushiel's Dart

Having hit last year's reading target with days to spare I decided to embark on Jacqueline Carey's hefty fantasy Kushiel's Dart, which I've had on my to-read list for quite a while. I was not disappointed: it really is quite as excellent as rumoured; and if I was slightly surprised by the amount of BDSM in the book, I quickly managed to get over it.

The book is set in on an alternate Earth where the Crucifixion gave rise not to Christianity but to an angel named Elua, born from the blood of the Messiah and the tears of the Magdalene, who adopted the precept of love as thou wilt. Wandering the earth Elua was eventually imprisoned by the King of Persia, only obtaining his freedom when eight members of the host chose to join him against the will of the One God, allowing the angel Naamah to seduce the king. The companions travelled the world, eventually settling in Western Europe where they founded the City of Elua and, through their bloodlines, the country of Terre D'Ange, before eventually being reconciled with the One God.

This founding story, given very early on, makes it clear that while the geography of the world may be ours, its politics and social structures are very different. Thus, the lack of Christianity — here effectively a branch of Judaism — and of absence of a powerful Roman Empire have left many of the older power structures untouched, with Alba — England — ruled by the Picts and the Low Countries controlled by the Skaldi, who incorporate the various Germanic tribes including the Vandals. The social mores are also very different, with Elua's precept in place of Augustinian guilt leading to tolerance of sexual diversity, with with prostitution institutionalised as the Service of Naamah and idealised in the different Houses of the Night Court.

The story begins with a young girl, Phèdre, being sold by her parents to the Cereus House. With the House considering her appearance too flawed for her to work as a courtesan — she has a red mote in her left eye — Phèdre's true nature is only recognised when she meets the poet Anafiel Delauney, who realises that the mote is Kushiel's Dart, a sign that she has been chosen by the angel of punishment. Recognising her unique worth as a true anguisette, Delauney adopts Phèdre into his household and gives her the very finest of educations. When they come of age both Phèdre and Alcuin, Delauney's first pupil, commit themselves to Naamah's Service, working as courtesans and spying on the highest echelons of society for Delauney, whilst also trying to obtain sufficient funds to complete their marques — the complex back tattoos indicating that the bond owed their master has been discharged.

Through Phèdre's life, pampered and protected though it is, we get a strong feel for Terre D'Ange with its intrigues and gossips. Through Delauney's politicking, we learn that the King is old, that his treasured granddaughter is unmarried, and that the powerful families — all close decedents of Elua and the seven angels who chose to mix their bloodlines with humanity — are circling, with the King's sister Lyonette de Trevalion, the Lioness of Azzalle, heading up the pack. We also get a feel for the decadence of the culture, with the Night Court providing services to match every taste of the aristocracy while the markets of Mont Nuit cater to those less well off. Meanwhile Phèdre's friendship with Hyacinthe, a Tsingano witch-boy she meets when she decides to truant from the Night Court, provides a glimpse of the more routine lives of those on the edge of the demi-monde.

The action unfolds from Phèdre's perspective but in the past tense, allowing the narrator to lean on certain events and to stress the importance of particular characters — something of no little importance given the novel's length and the complexity of its events. This foreshadowing combines with the abilities of Hyacinthe and his mother to use the dromonde — a faculty that allows them to see flashes of the future — to create the impression that Phèdre's charmed life in the City is the calm before a terrible storm.

Political events eventually get the better of Phèdre when Delauney is out-manoeuvred and she finds herself cast into the wilderness with no-one but Joscelyn, her stiff-necked Cassiline bodyguard, for company. Falling into the hands of one of the Skaldi border clans the pair hit rock bottom: Phèdre is forced to serve as the chieftain's bed-slave, whilst Joscelyn is kept in the kennels with the chief's dogs. Struggling to maintain their sense of self, the pair eventually fetch up in the service of the warlord Waldemar Selig. When they overhear Waldemar's plans for Terre D'Ange, they realise they have to get away to warn their king of the danger posed by the the Skaldi.

As the plot draws tighter, the two principle characters find themselves calcined by their circumstances. Phèdre realises just how easy and pampered her life in the City was when she finds herself forced to endure freezing temperatures and difficult terrain, whilst also struggling with the squicky discovery that Kushiel's Dart means that at least part of her enjoys her treatment even as she tries to reject it. Joscelyn too goes through the wringer, developing from an untried warrior-priest into a man who finds himself forced to make Cassiel's Choice — to break vow after vow to uphold the greater good of caring for his charge.

It's almost impossible to do justice to Kushiel's Dart in a handful of paragraphs. The plot is intricate and complex with every major character having at least one political agenda and many of them having several, with the minor players working to advance the intentions of their patrons. These deep manoeuvres feel realistic and well motivated — by various combinations of boredom, ambition, and loyalty to a cause — avoiding the tendency to attribute them to simple malice. The world is beautifully imagined, combining alternate history with elements of the Book of Enoch to create a cohesive whole. Although the fantastic remains largely removed from everyday life, it is clear from events that there are some things — the dromonde and the Master of the Straits — that can only explained by magic — or, as Phèdre notes as she goes along, by the unreliability of the narrator.

Very highly recommended.

Farewell to Abbado

Following the sad news of the death of Claudio Abbado, here is a performance of Brahms' second piano concerto from the late 70s. The soloist is Abbado's regular collaborator Maurizio Pollini: