Book Review – The Gates of Gods
Author: Martha Wells
Cover Artist: Donato Giancola
Publisher: EOS
Binding: Paperback
Publication Date: August 2006
I’ve been a fan of Martha Wells’ work for some years now, always eagerly awaiting her next book. Wells has carved out a solid niche based on her excellent single-volume genre fantasies. Her books all feature enjoyable prose, snappy dialogue and interesting world-building, while avoiding the common genre fantasy tropes of elves, dwarves, dragons and magic swords. Standouts include City of Bones (1995), Wheel of the Infinite (2000) and the Nebula-nominated Death of the Necromancer (1998). When I learned that Wells was writing a trilogy (“The Fall of Ile-Rien”), that most ubiquitous of formats for epic fantasy, I was of two minds. Would the longer format allow her to explore even more interesting and unique ideas and realms, or would it drag her backwards into typical genre conventions?
The answer, upon completing the final volume of the trilogy, The Gate of Gods, is neither. Somewhat disappointingly, this three volume work — The Wizard Hunters (2003) and The Ships of Air (2004) are the first two volumes — ends up feeling like nothing so much as a typical single-volume Martha Wells story stretched uncomfortably over triple the page count.
The good news then is that much of what made Wells’ previous books enjoyable is still present here. There is world-building, first of all. The story begins in world of Ile-Rien, a setting reminiscent of late 19th century France where old magic is intersecting with new technologies such as automobiles, subways and ocean liners. It’s a setting that several Wells stories (The Element of Fire, The Death of the Necromancer) have used, but this is a very different Ile-Rien than what readers may be familiar with. Set some 30 years after the last time we saw it in Death of the Necromancer, Ile-Rien’s capital city of Vienne as the trilogy opens is a shelled shell of its former self, under siege by a mysterious airborne army called the Gardier. Bombings by Gardier airships, aided by their magical ability to disrupt Ile-Rien’s mechanical technologies, have left Vienne devastated and other Ile-Rien cities isolated or fallen.
The modern, war-torn urban/mechanical settings of Ile-Rien (some of the best chapters take place aboard an ocean liner converted for military use) are contrasted throughout the trilogy with the more primitive, tranquil world of the Syrnai, used by the Gardier as a “staging world” for their attacks on Ile-Rien. A fairly typical fantasy setting except that families are matriarchal and magic (here regarded as “curses”) is feared, the Syrnai are also under attack from the Gardier. Naturally, the three worlds collide, as the Rienish and Syrnai both try to understand and halt the Gardier invasion. The differing attitudes of the three cultures towards magic and technology fuel much of the conflict and drama of the books.
“We’re going to a whole city of wizards.” Ilias sheathed his sword and sat down on the bed, laying the leather scabbard across his knees. It hadn’t been so long ago that the idea would have been laughable. Or, actually, screamable. Now they were here in this room with curse lights in a floating metal mountain of a ship. [...] “Are we crazy?”
The differing worldviews crystallize in the form of the two primary point-of-view characters, Tremaine and Ilias. Tremaine is a fairly unique fantasy heroine, notable primarily for her scheming and ruthlessness rather than any such typical fantasy female characteristics as love of horses, skill as a bard, or princess-like looks or disposition. She’s thoroughly a child of Ile-Rien, taking its mix of magic and technology for granted, and thus forced to rely mainly on her wits when separated from these things. Her relatively modern perspective becomes our own as she encounters the more primitive society of the Syrnai, Ilias’ homeland. Ilias meanwhile is an outcast in his own society. An encounter with an evil magician some years before has left him with a “curse mark,” making him an untouchable to the magic-fearing Syrnai despite his many admirable characteristics. There’s a bit of Mary Sue-ish romance here (Tremaine is a frizzy-haired writer of fantasy plays), but there are enough other characters and enough other plot elements that it never dominates, even here in the final volume where the fate of both characters is resolved. Indeed, the politics involved in their relationship — significant, given Tremaine’s power in the matriarchal Syrnai — are here used as a welcome break between periods of otherwise unrelenting action as the plot elements are wrapped up.
Ilias’ childhood friend Giliead, who as Chosen Vessel of the God of the Syrnai has his own touch of magic, figures nearly as prominently in the books as Ilias; the two have a brotherly relationship, a combination of affection and one-upsmanship, each adding depth and understanding to the other’s situation. This is one of the strengths of the books: a large number of characters genuinely care about each other, want what’s best for each other. They’re people we as readers can enjoy spending time with, whether in moments of plain-spoken honesty or teasing levity.
“It reminds me of my student days.”
Tremaine lifted a brow. “That was forty years ago, Gerard.”
He actually put his pen down to glare at her. “Twenty years ago, Tremaine, twenty–” He saw her lips twitch. “Very funny.”
Rounding out the cast are various other characters from the Syrnai and a cadre of Rienish magic-wielding and military characters, both male and female, trusting and suspicious, good and evil. Last but not least, some favorite characters from Death of the Necromancer show up as well — more so than ever in this third volume. Many of these secondary characters are granted their own POV sections when the situation warrants, keeping us aware that this is a story with consequences that impact worlds, not just the two primary characters. If anything the use of other POVs increases here in the third book of the trilogy, now that we’ve gotten to know many of the characters well. This gradual broadening serves to emphasize the urgency and epic scope of the story.
Wells is in her element with this sort of fluid storytelling, always focusing on who and what will best help her tell her story. She has a knack for choosing just the right details, just the right words; providing just enough information to paint a picture while not over-explaining. Consider:
It was a huge hulking structure, its brick leprous with mold, with no ground floor windows and a pair of badly-proportioned pillars flanking its entrance. There was no carving on the eaves and the proportions were subtly off; it looked like a small and incompetent copy of a badly neglected Vienne Greathouse. The neat townhouses to either side of it seemed to stand in silent reproach.
Here “leprous” gives the house an air of the organic, a living thing, and also contributes to a medieval, fantastic feel. “Greathouse” could have easily been “mansion” but again, the word choice conveys that this is a fantastic place outside the modern world. The final line continues the extended metaphor of the houses as living things. Small deft touches such as these — word choices that in a subtle way emphasize the fantasy setting, extended metaphors that enhance understanding without calling undue attention to themselves — showcase Wells’ skill as a writer.
The volumes of this trilogy are “light” reading, not especially gritty or literary, but a cut above typical genre fare. They contain no overt symbolism or allegorical message, and while there are socially relevant ideas present — about technology and magic, about men and women, about the value of fantasy in finding one’s place — they exist to provide depth to the story rather than as foci of the story. This is not a book, not a series, where characters grow to any great degree; rather, it’s a matter of characters who don’t quite fit in jumping from place to place, world to world, until they find a person and a place where they do fit. The “misunderstood outcast has adventures while trying to find his/her place” plot is fairly common in young adult books, and in many ways it is interesting and refreshing to see an adult take on this: a recognition that adults, too, may find themselves searching for a place where they fit. Overall there’s a lot to like about these books: imaginative settings, interesting characters and quality writing, plus a plot that includes mystery, action, politics, romance and magic.
The primary difficulty with this trilogy is that to understand it fully you must have read another of Ms. Wells’ books, Death of the Necromancer, where the city of Vienne and many characters and their backgrounds are introduced, their motivations explained. Yet reading this or any of her previous books is to be made aware of how much of this new trilogy is borrowed from past books. There is always both a primary male and primary female POV character in a Martha Wells book, with at least a budding romance between them. That romance however is always in question as to whether it’s something momentary, a matter of proximity, or something that will last. The male POV is always capable in a fight. The female POV always has some degree of magic-wielding capability (which is always a source of tension between her and the male POV), and some large degree of self-doubt. Magic is always seen as something that can lead, directly or indirectly, to madness. Royalty and throne room politics always make an appearance. None of these are bad things in themselves of course, what’s problematic is the catch-22 that the trilogy works best if you’ve read the book before it, and yet reading the book before it makes you aware of how many themes and aspects are repeated here in the trilogy.
Another aspect that is repeated is an ending sequence that involves a jump to a new location followed by a quick and tidy resolution. Unfortunately, a 50-page ending sequence in a 400-page novel is one thing, but the same 50-page sequence in a 1,300-page trilogy feels too speedy, too pat. There’s an element of (very literal) deus ex machina here — that fortunately the story provides for — but more than that it’s a “man behind the curtain” sort of ending, where, once the characters find the man behind the curtain, they don’t need to do much other than use the characteristics and skills they’ve shown from the very start for victory to be achieved.
There is also a sameness to many characters that contributes to the “stretched novel” feel of the trilogy: nearly all the major characters are capable, smart, and quick-witted in a sarcastic, self-deprecating sort of way. They are all firmly committed to the cause. There is not the variety, the differentiation, that one would expect in a work this long and with a cast this large, and because of their capabilities and intelligence it’s hard to feel like the characters are ever truly in danger. There also seems to be a lot of duplication of characteristics. Tremaine and Florian (women capable of a little magic who constantly doubt their own usefulness), Ilias and Giliead (strong, capable, magic-distrusting Syprians who wonder what the future will bring), Gerard and Nicholas (older father-figures; focused leaders and planners); each pair shares many characteristics and performs similar functions at various points in the story.
Finally, I must wonder somewhat at the purpose of this trilogy within the overall oeuvre of Martha Wells. It is a sequel to Death of the Necromancer, a book that seemed to demand no sequel. Without spoiling the books, I am reminded of a line from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics, about what happens when any story goes on too long. As with the Star Wars prequels and some moviegoers, there is a danger here that the content of the newer work could in some ways tarnish a reader’s enjoyment of the older, more lauded work. That applies to existing fans of Martha Wells, of course, and as she’s not a well-known author I do understand the desire to write with a focus towards acquiring new readers.
For those readers who have not read Martha Wells’ work before, the best approach might then be to read this trilogy first — knowing there are some things (the characters of Nicholas and Arisilde in particular) that may be unclear — and then immediately read Death of the Necromancer to fill in the gaps. For readers already familiar with Ms. Wells’ work, well, you’ll read this trilogy no matter what I write. I’ll simply suggest that going into it with somewhat reduced expectations, as outlined in this review, will maximize your enjoyment of the story’s many good qualities.
Note: Ms. Well’s first book in the world of Ile-Rien that takes place several generations before this trilogy, The Element of Fire, has recently been made freely available online by the author at her website (www.marthawells.com). The first several chapters of all her books, including those of this trilogy, are there as well.
– Matt Denault
About Matt Denault: Matt Denault has never lost the seriousness of a child at play—especially when it comes to reading. He lives just outside Boston. H
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