Subject: Review: A SONG FOR ARBONNE

From: [email-masked] (Peter Cash)
Date: Wed, 24 Feb 1993 14:39:23 GMT

Guy Gavriel Kay's _Tigana_ is one of the best fantasy novels I've ever read.
Few novels in this (or any) genre rise to the level of complexity in
character and plot, or show as much originality as _Tigana_; even fewer
manage to be so thoroughly enjoyable. Kay's earlier books--a trilogy
collectively entitled _Fionavar Tapestry_ (comprised of _The Summer Tree_,
_The Wandering Fire_, and _The Darkest Road_) displayed occasional flashes
of originality, but on the whole was too derivative of Tolkien. (The
influence of Tolkien is easy to understand: Kay worked with Christopher
Tolkien in editing _The Silmarilion_). _Tigana_ seemed to mark the emergence
of a new talent--there was a qualitative progression between the trilogy and
the later book that promised even better things to come.

Unfortunately, Kay's new book, _A Song for Arbonne_ is merely adequate, and
is not the great book I had hoped for. While SfA is of a more even--and
overall higher--quality than _Fionavar Tapestry_, it is not in the same
league as _Tigana_. SfA is competent--nothing less, and nothing more; it
does not sparkle.

This book is set in a region of what Kay may intend to be the same world as
that in which _Tigana_ takes place. If this is indeed the same world, then
surely the Palm of _Tigana_ is in a different quarter of the globe from
Arbonne, and there is little traffic or commonality between the two. In
fact, the world of Arbonne looks a good deal like our own, except that it
has two moons; the only thing that makes SfA a fantasy novel is that it is
set in no recognizable geographical or historical venue.

That is not to say that we do not find things familiar in Arbonne. In fact,
Arbonne often seems _too_ familiar. For example, it is a realm characterized
by a painful attention to political correctness--in Arbonne, all women are
strong, the men are sensitive, and gays are noble. This is not to say that
strong women, sensitive men, or noble homosexuals are in themselves
objectionable--it's just that Kay is so _earnest_ about these things that
SfA at times resembles a sermon instead of a story.

Arbonne might best be described as a leftist vision of medieval France
strongly influenced by the cult of "courtly love"--love as it was in the
songs of the troubadours of 11th Century Provence. In this era, all
marriages of the nobility were arranged (or forced) for the sake of
political necessity. Partly out of reaction to this, partly as a result of
the scarcity of women in courts of this time, a cult of "courtly love" grew
up in which women were exalted as ideal creatures, and men their humble
servants. Love in such songs was never between husband and wife, but always
between noble ladies and men to whom they were _not_ married.

As one would expect, Arbonne has barons and castles and tournaments; above
all, there are troubadours and lots of romantic songs. Though women are
still forced into loveless marriages, they manage to wield most of the power
in Arbonne due to their strength of character--and the influence of a
matriarchal deity worshipped in Arbonne. It could be a pleasant sort of
place, a place one might want to visit in one's imagination--if Kay didn't
take it so very seriously.

While Arbonne is politically correct, its northern neighbor Gorhaut is
dominated by a most incorrect misogynistic warrior-cult. Central to the plot
of SfA are the efforts of the monomaniacal high priest of this cult, Galbert
de Garsenc, to rape, pillage and burn Arbonne because...well...because it's
there.  And because he _hates_ women, and a goddess is worshipped in
Arbonne.

Galbert's son, Blaise, is intended to become an initiate of the
warrior-cult, and eventually to follow his father as high priest. However,
Blaise has ideas of his own; his rebelliousnes eventually forces him into
exile in Arbonne. Once in Arbonne, Blaise--disguised as a simple
mercenary--overcomes his initial distaste for the feminized culture to the
extent that he eventually fights to frustrate his father's designs on
Arbonne.

The novel's narrative tempo is, particularly in the first third of the book,
too sedate. There are lengthy soliloquys, descriptions, and asides.  Kay was
reaching for depth, detail, and sophistication--but mostly he comes up with
mere verbosity. Still, Blaise's adventures--and Galbert's
machinations--should manage to keep the readers interest until the end.
This ending is, however, something of a disappointment--particularly if the
reader expects fireworks of the kind that come at the end of _Tigana_.
Instead of fireworks, we get something of a squib.

Perhaps the problem with Arbonne is that there is very little magic there.
One might ask whether this is a fair criticism--after all, if Kay wanted to
write something that had more of the flavor of a historical romance than a
fantasy, is it right to criticize him for writing a book more in this genre
and not another?

In this case, the criticism is justified. If Arbonne were a more magical
world, it would have worked; but as it is, Arbonne is not fantastical--it is
merely unreal.  Well-handled magic would have prompted me to suspend
disbelief, and to refrain from asking questions that kept coming to my mind
as I read this book. Had Arbonne been more magical, I would not, for
example, have been tempted to ask myself whether the castles have indoor
plumbing, or if the cities have sewage systems. I would not have wondered
what the mineral resources of Arbonne are, or its main cash crops, or its
gross national product, or whether it has a postal service.

As it is, Arbonne is prosaic enough that all these questions--and more--come
to mind as one reads this book. If an atuhor wants to write realistic
fiction, then he must do a proper job of it. If he wants to write about an
imaginary country that is nevertheless realistic, then he must think about
natural resources, history, topography, geography, and demography. In fact,
it's probably easier just to do the research and write historical fiction
than to make up real-seeming countries and places.

This deficiency goes beyond a lack of background--it extends to the
motivations of the characters as well. If Kay wants me to think that Arbonne
and Gorhaut are earth-like places that work in a pretty earth-like way, then
he's going to have to provide more than the simple motivations in SfA. In a
fantasy, I might not think twice about a scheming high priest who inveigles
his king into pillaging a neighboring state solely because he hates women.
But in the real world, things just don't work that way. In the real world,
one is troubled by accountants and petty functionaries, and not even
magnificently monomaniacal high priests get their way so easily.

As I said near the beginning of this review, _Song for Arbonne_ is adequate.
Perhaps I wouldn't have been so disappointed if I had waited for the
paperback instead of shelling out $20 for the hardbound version.

%T A SONG FOR ARBONNE
%A Guy Gavriel Kay
%I Crown Publishers, Inc. New York
%D 1992
%G ISBN 0-517-59312-2
%P 513 pages

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             |      Die Welt ist alles, was Zerfall ist.     |
Peter Cash   |       (apologies to Ludwig Wittgenstein)      [email-masked]
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