Review: A Man Rides Through by Stephen R. Donaldson (1987)

You may have read my take on a high fantasy novelist writing middle-quality romance. This, friends and fellow readers, is the sequel and conclusion to that story.

Terisa Morgan, a young woman transplanted from her "real" world into the fantasy kingdom of Mordant, has just watched her only friend, the bumbling nobleman Geraden, escape into a mirror after being framed for murder. This escape, though miraculous, leaves Terisa defenseless against a castle full of people who believe that she aided the criminal's flight. Tensions are high, because two marauding armies are racing to that same castle, knowing that whichever takes it first will hold the position to conquer all of Mordant. Meanwhile, old King Joyse refuses to raise a hand in defense of his kingdom. It is up to Terisa alone to escape from her desperate captors and reunite with Geraden, who is her only hope of discovering how an alliance of rogue Imagers (wizards who can pull anything imaginable out of mirrors) are able to translate alien horrors anywhere they please, and whose sinister influence is behind the war that stands at Mordant's door.

I was underwhelmed with the first book; it's not nearly as awe-inspiring as Thomas Covenant, it's too complicated to be a page-turner, and it's not bad enough to be funny. This trend continues into A Man Rides Through. Many, many plots are going on at the same time; after all, Donaldson wrote these two right after the sixth Thomas Covenant, when he was at his peak in terms of subplots. The man is a hydra in that for every subplot he resolves, he creates two more. And he never leaves a thread hanging. This sounds fascinating but is really so only if the story is worth the commitment, and in the Mordant's Need plot, you need a special interest in the characters or the mirror fantasy to feel so involved. Alone, the drama does not justify itself.

Then something incredible happens. About halfway through the book, all the plots take a turn and begin to converge again. The result is like listening to a middle-grade concerto which suddenly reveals that all its disparate melodies, when played at the same time, form a cohesive harmony. It's a load of ordinary devices that fit together with uncanny precision. For a few hundred pages near the end, it's a nonstop hurly-burly of characters picking up Chekhov's guns, only to discover that their targets were wearing Chekhov's bullet-proof vests, but in turn those characters had paid for their vests by borrowing money from Chekhov's loan sharks... It goes on. Every previous action of named character is somehow justified until the plot collapses down to the climax which is a singular event.

To me this instantly makes a fantasy book worth it, but obviously there's more to a novel than structure. Terisa becomes less annoying than in the previous book, but in doing so she loses the better part of her individuality as a character. It frustrates me because Donaldson can write women brilliantly, but Terisa's function is to be a bit shallow. If ever I were to name a problem with this author, it would be his ability to intentionally fall short of his stylistic potential in order to achieve that unerring symbolic consistency.

Overall, the story is entertaining. I enjoyed the various experimentation with monsters created out of mirrors. They're a silly compromise between something grounded in the laws of reality and something from a carnival nightmare. As usual, it takes a stretch to suspend belief of some of the physics, because the magic is symbolic in function. But to me this is refreshing when done right, rather than as a lack of better imagination.

Review: The Mirror of Her Dreams by Stephen R. Donaldson (1986)

Close your eyes. Imagine that The Lord of the Rings is your favorite book. You've read it more times than you can count, and you remember more about Middle Earth than you could recite in a day. (For some, this isn't such a stretch.) Now imagine you've found another series by Tolkien, read by few, that takes place not in Middle Earth, but in an entirely new fantasy world. Ravenous for this new discovery, you pick it up and begin to read.

It's a romance novel. Not only that, but it's a mediocre romance novel.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the fantasy, mystery, bodice-ripper offered to the world by one of my biggest fantasy influences. It was one of my most bizarre experiences of 2012.

Terisa Morgan is a woman who almost literally has no life. She's quiet, submissive, and friendless. She lives alone in an apartment paid for by her rich, aloof father, and spends all day working for a soup kitchen without forming any bonds with the poor she serves. Her biggest fear is disappearing entirely without anyone noticing. This all changes one night when a strange man bursts through her bedroom mirror. His name is Geraden, and he comes from a land in which mirrors can create anything imaginable. Geraden is on a mission to retrieve someone to save his kingdom from destruction, and he believes Terisa to be that champion. With no reason to stay in the life she knows, Terisa follows Geraden into a fantasy world full of familial plots and political games. Amidst a background of danger and wits, Terisa must choose between the affections of Geraden, and a master Imager named Eremis, who is always one step ahead of the plots threatening the land of Mordant.

Donaldson thrives in a setting where ordinary-world people interact with archaic-speaking people who are differently complex: who have an eye for patterns and schemes but who are blind to different subtleties than we are. For example, many of his characters seem to perceive familial ties as something tangible, which makes them stronger than you or I, but we might be quicker to see how relationships might shift, and catch onto deceit more quickly. Even when a Donaldson fantasy character is skeptical, it's in a solid, direct way. This interaction between cemented values and our own subtle shades of gray is what powers the Thomas Covenant series, and it's what saves The Mirror of Her Dreams, but not by a long shot.

You'd think, perhaps as a joke, that your favorite author could pull off a silly romance. After all, the best writers usually know how to shift genres with some skill. The problem is that this is still a fantasy, and Donaldson's fantasy, as opposed to his other work, is usually highly methodical. He ratchets up the tension by revealing one thrilling detail at a time, getting quite a bit of mileage out of each aspect of the plot. This works wonders in Thomas Covenant. But in this novel, where half the details are repetitive flirtations, it gets boring quickly.

There's a fair amount of philosophic value diluted amid the sappiness. Although Terisa's fear of disappearing makes a bad metaphor, it creates some interesting avenues for existential questioning. A good amount of space is devoted to the question of whether Terisa existed prior to appearing in Mordant. Even she is unable to resolve them. The philosophy is relatively outdated, but it's still solid.

If you're a connoisseur of romance novels, try this one on for size. If not, don't make this your introduction to Donaldson. I plan to read the concluding sequel, A Man Rides Through, which I hope will be an improvement.