Malazan Ascendancy – Gardens of the Moon: The Prologue Reread
Editor’s Note: I started chronicling my reread of Gardens of the Moon at another blog, but have decided to bring it over to and continue under the Gestalt Mash banner. For those who don’t know, I’m a huge fan of the series, as you may be able to tell via the interviews I’ve conducted with Steven Erikson and Ian Cameron Esslemont. I will be reposting the content from the previous site and then move on (I’m not even out of the first chapter yet!) to new material — basically it means that combined with my Playin’ with Ice and Fire duties, I’m halfway to ascension just by association!
What I find myself most impressed through the prologue is just how much information we are given in a piece that you’d never describe as an info dump. Quite the opposite, you’re put into an in-progress situation via the perspective of a 12 year old, yet come away feeling like you know three, perhaps 4 people, even if you only learn two of their names. If you include the Dramatis Personae, the epigraph, and the prologue, a veteran of the series returns and finds the enormity of what he was confronted with from the very beginning. It would be silly to suggest that even the best laid plans would prove a prologue be so fruitful so many years afterwards, but I can appreciate reverse engineering all the same. Recently – probably on twitter – I related it to rewatching the first episode of LOST. There is that much more to appreciate, and we aren’t even into the first chapter yet. On a re-read, through a series this long, we are revisiting old friends and enemies, characters no longer.
But mark these dying shadows,
twinned and flowing bloody and beaten,
down and away from mortal sight.The Emperor is dead.
So too his master’d companion, the rope cut clean.
* please note that this feature will subject you to massive spoilers from later in the book and BEYOND it. This is not a clean-slate walkthrough, but rather the experiences of a reader who has read all of the books published to date who may not at all be sympathetic to your own spoiler policy and/or preferences.
Those who have already read Night of Knives get an even bigger bonus. We not only partially know what Surly knows, but what she’s about to endeavor. Her encounter here with Whiskeyjack is not – can not – be at the forefront of her mind. Surly is a character that if we admire at all, we seem to always do so in hindsight. Consider what she undertakes later, and we understand her complete nonchalance in the face of a slight by a no less formidable person. One of the most respected commanders of one of the most dangerous armies ever, we are talking about a man who would one day draw a line, to which the other side stood Anomander Rake–no less than the damn original don dada if there is one in the series. He listens to her, even if grudgingly. He knows what her new name implies and still takes her orders.
What we also see is Whiskeyjack’s faith in the Emperor. We would later have this idea removed from us (in Memories of Ice) but being a particular fan of the Old Guard, and specifically the Emperor’s pre-Imperial “Family”, I love reading anything about or referring to the old man. We actually get so very little of him, yet in many ways you feel he’s been the chief architect of everything going on in the series, both temporal and otherwise. What made this man so able to bend so many supremely capable individuals to his vision?
He’s not the only one who remembers you as nothing more than a serving-wench down in the Old Quarter
This one line invites us into history. From the very first written words of this series, we know to some extent where Surly – the future Empress of the Malazan Empire – came from, and while (again, somewhat taken away from us later) we learn why she may want some who have such memories and loyalties removed. It’s actually perfectly understandable.
One thing I love is that the two soldiers we meet here are very much bearers of a flame for me in the series. After Whiskeyjack and his Bridgeburners, it is Fiddler and the Bonehunters who fill that company void. It is the from the Malazan army that we get this very diverse everyman element. While never a solider in war, I can speak to communities near large military installations, and what you will find are some of the most ethnically and cultural diverse pockets of our population. Much like a demoted Whiskeyjack, Fiddler by all rights should be a Fist. While the concept of why the former was demoted is still something that strikes me as among the most silliest parts of the series, I love both of these characters, and I love even more the oft repeated idea that the equivalent to an NCO is the backbone of any army, something my own father – a Vietnam veteran – recognizes as truth absolute.
That said, as it relates to an initial read also get the the bit that throws you off, as at this point, Whiskeyjack is Dujek’s superior in rank. We also see an element that should not be surprising in among a society’s elite , but could be viewed as a call back tidbit, is the information that Paran is already knowledgeable to regarding news from the war, specifically the fall of Dassem. Throughout the novels the relationship between nobles and the military comes into play, and while it’s usually heavily slanted, it tends to be funny. In some ways Ganoes comes to represent an exception in the case of Nobles, and a profound one. The Paran family itself is, or rather becomes an interesting study in itself.
First Sword of Empire. Be honest with yourself. As soon as you read those words, you had to know more. It’s just one of those perfect titles, and we cling to this even though Erikson offers us very little on Dassem until much later. What we can infer is that losing the Imperial Champion may imply as less than optimal campaign. Needless to say, we want to know more about Dassem. Who killed him and how? It feels important even though at this point we don’t know why. Check out how we are introduced to Dassem:
‘The First Sword of Empire. Dassem Ultor. We heard in the capital before we left. He’s dead. Is it true? Is Dassem dead?’
and then:
‘It’s said he betrayed a god.’
Ganoes is a child of 12 here, one who lives in comfort but wants to be a solider,”a hero”. It is from his perspective that Erikson chooses to introduces us to his world. It is through he – through us – that he perhaps reveals and acknowledges our wonder, recognizing and allowing for reverence to our accustomed fantasy experience, but then confronts us with a real-world soldier who has some desire to speak to his our romantic notions and vantage, but in the end even he understands, joins, and watches with us. He gives us our moment.
All before he takes us.
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