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5.0 out of 5 stars
Masterpiece of silken prose, Aug 12 2001
It's a too-rare gift to be able to write prose like poetry, but Patricia McKillip has mastered the art. It took me a while to get past the first few chapters, but then the plot caught up speed into a magical, political story about love, revenge, music and memory.A burned child with only vague memories of fire is brought to the bard's island of Luly, raised and marries there. Rook Caladrius and his wife have a son, Hollis, but the bards are slowly drifting from Luly to the mainland, Hollis among them. Caladrius stays where he is, until a young man named Griffin Tormalyne, one of the last of a great ruling house that was overthrown by the Basilisk, arrives seeking great power. Caladrius realizes that he cannot escape his shrouded past any longer, and sets off for the capitol city. Elsewhere, the magister Giulia Dulcet spends divided time between the Tormalyne music school, and the taverns where she plays the single-stringed picochet. But soon she is called away to teach one of the Basilisk's daughters (he has two: smoldering sorceress Luna Pellior and the less intelligent, rather ignored Lady Damiet). She is aided by the mysterious Caladrius, who helps to teach Damiet how to play the picochet and how to sing. Damiet, who has previously thought mostly of clothing, begins to fall for Caladrius. At the taverns where Giulia once sang, there is a growing rebellion against the Basilisk. Near the decayed husk of Tormalyne Palace, powerful political figures and wandering idealists band together for a political coup, with Hollis assisting them. But something exists that is far more powerful than mere troops: the magic that the Basilisk wields. The heroes strike out against the sinister, aging despot and are caught in a clash of magic and music, between the dying symbol of an evil Basilisk and the last survivor of the Tormalyne family. It's astonishing how real Patricia McKillip's dreamy books seem, but the political themes and the sad remnents of the proud Tormalyne family give it an added dimension of reality. As usual, her magic is not the slam-bang-whizz of most fantasy books, but an underlying whisper. You can feel it in the playing of the music, the island of Luly, the forest where Caladrius finds his flute, and the husk of the Tormalyne palace. And not everything happens pleasantly--not everything twists to the way it should be in an ideal world, and not every injustice or crime can be reversed. McKillip recognizes and acknowledges this. Her characters are also very real. I particularly liked the composer Hexel, who spends half the book bewailing that he can't write without his muse and then scribbling furiously. Giulia Dulcet, Luna and Damiet are all excellently drawn: strong, intelligent Giulia, the powerful sorceress Luna who is far more than she seems to be, and the neglected Damiet who becomes so attached to the first person to treat her with real kindness. Because of his soul-scarred state, I found it a bit difficult to connect with Caladrius for a while, but once he got to the city things smoothed out a little. The Basilisk is a darker horse, though, as we don't really learn why he's so rotten. And Hollis and Justin are so sexy... The first few chapters, with half of Rook's life passing on Luly, are a bit difficult to wade through but after that the plot picks up speed. Her writing style is, as always, beautiful and evocative; my favorite scene may be the part where the white basilisk appears, bit by bit, in each mirror in the hall, followed by the statues that Luna summons. This book is also tempered with a bit of humor that pops up sometimes (Damiet's assigning a dress to each song; Hexel asking rhetorically what lovers think of aside from love, and Giulia's reply, "Clothes?") All in all, a beautiful fantasy novel with a wonderful writing style and a spellbinding story. Excellent!
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