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Before getting into the review, just in case there are any Riverside fans among my readers who don't already know about it: there is a new addition to the Riverside corpus in the form of a multi-author serial story set some years before the time of Swordspoint. It's being produced through a site called Serial Box and is available by subscription, though I imagine that a compiled version will be available after the completion of the serial.
* * *
This review is going to be structured a bit oddly so that I have an excerptable “public review” within the more personal meanderings.
Several weeks ago, I posted a “review of my memory of The Privilege of the Sword” [hereinafter abbreviated “TPOTS”] in order to fix that memory before doing a re-read. I’m glad I did, because I definitely saw a number of characters and events differently this time through. I think that I was able to read “the book that it is” this time, and not “the book I wanted it to be”. But conversely, there were areas where my memory—even of the heartbreaking aspects—was a bit more starry-eyed than I found during this read-through. P.S., this time I've put the more personal analysis behind a cut because of spoilers, so feel free to read the rest of the review without fear.
Here begins the official review:
* * *
The Privilege of the Sword (TPOTS) is set in the same “Riverside” world as Kushner’s more popular Swordspoint, which it follows chronologically and which provides a great deal of character and plot background. In fact, I’d be willing to venture that much of the politics and social interactions of TPOTS might be rather confusing for those who haven’t read Swordspoint. This weakens the novel slightly because, although Katherine Talbert is structurally the central character of this novel, she is overshadowed in many ways by the angsty, brittle man-pain of bad-boy Alec Campion, Duke of Tremontaine, the central character of Swordspoint. If you look around at Riverside fandom, it’s inescapable that the tempestuous romance between Alec and the swordsman St. Vier is what most readers come for. And TPOTS sometimes (only sometimes) feels more like an opportunity to squeeze out another serving of Tremontaine angst onto the page than it feels like Katherine’s story. Or maybe it just feels that way to me because I’m reading for Katherine’s story and find Alec and St. Vier far less interesting.
In a sort of vaguely late-18th-century-ish society of glittering nobility in satin and lace, and with cut-throat undertones both in the back alleys of the Riverside district and in the back rooms of upper-class politics, Katherine Talbert is summoned to the city to be taken under the wing of her notorious uncle, the Duke of Tremontaine. For Katherine, the enticement is in part the lure of a glittering season, and in part her uncle’s promise to end his mysterious feud with her parents if she accepts. Tremontaine however has no intent to launch her in society—at least, not in the usual sense. Instead, he dresses her in men’s clothing and sets her to learn swordsmanship. This, along with her uncle’s reputation, becomes something of a bar between her and the rest of society, but she does succeed in striking up an acquaintance with Artemisia Fitz-Levi, a prominent debutante, who soon becomes betrothed to the much older Lord Ferris, who just happens to be an old rival and enemy of Tremontaine. (For which, see Swordspoint.)
The middle portion of the book is the braided story of Katherine’s training (including private tutelage under the self-exiled St. Vier), Artemisia’s careening path toward personal disaster, Tremontaine’s political scheming and social outrages, and the private dramas of a handful of Characters Who Will Be Important Later.
One thread that twines through several of these subplots is the novel (also staged as a play) of “The Swordsman Whose Name was Not Death,” a melodrama of fatally honorable swordsmen, dastardly villains, swooning damsels, and deadly peril. This novel lays the framework for Katherine’s decision to champion the honor of Artemisia at the point of a sword, which sets in motion the cascade of plots and counterplots that drive the story to its somewhat abrupt conclusion.
The writing is delightful and the world-building is detailed and solid. The secondary characters are nicely varied, though some lean a bit toward archetypes, at least in their initial introduction. I confess, though, that I wanted less of Tremontaine’s socio-political scheming and more about what Katherine does after the end of the current book. It would have felt more like it was truly Katherine’s story if the current end were instead the mid-book turning point. None of this is intended to indicate that I disliked the book. Katherine is a truly delightful character (which is why I wanted more of her) and if you like stories about brave and daring girls who fight duels for the honor of their friends and who get butterflies in the stomach at the thought of kissing a famous actress…well, this is definitely a book for you.
* * *
And now we return to the sexual politics deconstruction that isn’t part of my on-record review.
( Here Be Spoilers )
* * *
This review is going to be structured a bit oddly so that I have an excerptable “public review” within the more personal meanderings.
Several weeks ago, I posted a “review of my memory of The Privilege of the Sword” [hereinafter abbreviated “TPOTS”] in order to fix that memory before doing a re-read. I’m glad I did, because I definitely saw a number of characters and events differently this time through. I think that I was able to read “the book that it is” this time, and not “the book I wanted it to be”. But conversely, there were areas where my memory—even of the heartbreaking aspects—was a bit more starry-eyed than I found during this read-through. P.S., this time I've put the more personal analysis behind a cut because of spoilers, so feel free to read the rest of the review without fear.
Here begins the official review:
* * *
The Privilege of the Sword (TPOTS) is set in the same “Riverside” world as Kushner’s more popular Swordspoint, which it follows chronologically and which provides a great deal of character and plot background. In fact, I’d be willing to venture that much of the politics and social interactions of TPOTS might be rather confusing for those who haven’t read Swordspoint. This weakens the novel slightly because, although Katherine Talbert is structurally the central character of this novel, she is overshadowed in many ways by the angsty, brittle man-pain of bad-boy Alec Campion, Duke of Tremontaine, the central character of Swordspoint. If you look around at Riverside fandom, it’s inescapable that the tempestuous romance between Alec and the swordsman St. Vier is what most readers come for. And TPOTS sometimes (only sometimes) feels more like an opportunity to squeeze out another serving of Tremontaine angst onto the page than it feels like Katherine’s story. Or maybe it just feels that way to me because I’m reading for Katherine’s story and find Alec and St. Vier far less interesting.
In a sort of vaguely late-18th-century-ish society of glittering nobility in satin and lace, and with cut-throat undertones both in the back alleys of the Riverside district and in the back rooms of upper-class politics, Katherine Talbert is summoned to the city to be taken under the wing of her notorious uncle, the Duke of Tremontaine. For Katherine, the enticement is in part the lure of a glittering season, and in part her uncle’s promise to end his mysterious feud with her parents if she accepts. Tremontaine however has no intent to launch her in society—at least, not in the usual sense. Instead, he dresses her in men’s clothing and sets her to learn swordsmanship. This, along with her uncle’s reputation, becomes something of a bar between her and the rest of society, but she does succeed in striking up an acquaintance with Artemisia Fitz-Levi, a prominent debutante, who soon becomes betrothed to the much older Lord Ferris, who just happens to be an old rival and enemy of Tremontaine. (For which, see Swordspoint.)
The middle portion of the book is the braided story of Katherine’s training (including private tutelage under the self-exiled St. Vier), Artemisia’s careening path toward personal disaster, Tremontaine’s political scheming and social outrages, and the private dramas of a handful of Characters Who Will Be Important Later.
One thread that twines through several of these subplots is the novel (also staged as a play) of “The Swordsman Whose Name was Not Death,” a melodrama of fatally honorable swordsmen, dastardly villains, swooning damsels, and deadly peril. This novel lays the framework for Katherine’s decision to champion the honor of Artemisia at the point of a sword, which sets in motion the cascade of plots and counterplots that drive the story to its somewhat abrupt conclusion.
The writing is delightful and the world-building is detailed and solid. The secondary characters are nicely varied, though some lean a bit toward archetypes, at least in their initial introduction. I confess, though, that I wanted less of Tremontaine’s socio-political scheming and more about what Katherine does after the end of the current book. It would have felt more like it was truly Katherine’s story if the current end were instead the mid-book turning point. None of this is intended to indicate that I disliked the book. Katherine is a truly delightful character (which is why I wanted more of her) and if you like stories about brave and daring girls who fight duels for the honor of their friends and who get butterflies in the stomach at the thought of kissing a famous actress…well, this is definitely a book for you.
* * *
And now we return to the sexual politics deconstruction that isn’t part of my on-record review.
( Here Be Spoilers )
