Brandon Sanderson plays with the conventions of epic
fantasy in many of his works, but most of it is still epic fantasy in the
classic sense. It’s what he’s comfortable with, and he’s very good at it, but
the style does grow stale after reading five or six of his novels in a row.
That’s why The
Emperor’s Soul surprised me, even before opening it. Here was a tiny book,
barely a hundred fifty pages, with the name “Brandon Sanderson” right below the
title. I judged it an aberration by the cover, and I was right. It’s short
where Sanderson’s other works are lengthy. It’s fast-paced where the others are
methodical, cozy and simple where the others are grand and complex, mystical
and introspective where the others are precise and sweeping. The Emperor’s Soul is wildly different Sanderson’s
other work, and it’s an absolute delight.
It revolves around Shai, an imprisoned con artist
forced to use her magic, Forgery, to construct a new soul for the brain-damaged
emperor. Forgery allows her to change objects by literally stamping a new past
onto them. If the new past is plausible, the object changes. This also works
for people, but doing so is vastly difficult. To Forge the emperor’s soul, she
must be able to understand and explain every element of his character, which
would be an immense challenge even if she weren’t confined to a cell, even if
she could interact with him…and she only has a hundred days to do it.
Shai’s task is one of research, empathy, and hard,
repetitive work. Forgery is both literary criticism and artistic process as a
form of magic, and she spends much of the book collecting information, writing,
and rewriting stories until she finds one that explains. Her effort and
frustration, terror and exhaustion and elation, and her manic need to finish
her project even as time runs short, even as she knows it would be safer and
wiser to simply run away, capture the work
of art like few other works I’ve seen.
Shai’s task blurs the lines between lie and truth, which
comes out in the wonderful interactions with her imprisoner Gaotona. The two
grow to understand and respect each other, learning about themselves in the
process: she, teaching him the artistry in lies, he, teaching her the value of
truth. This wonderfully-constructed relationship grounds the story in strong
characterization, making its mystical themes solid and meaningful.
Most of Sanderson’s work moves slowly, but The Emperor’s Soul moves like lightning,
its very structure as cramped and hurried as Shai herself. The book is
physically small, with claustrophobic pages and short paragraphs. Pacing is
quick, chapter titles bear simple timestamps instead of the artful epigraphs
Sanderson often employs, and the clipped lexicon and short sentences make the
words almost trip over each other in their haste. Every element of the book
presses in the feeling of constriction, of time running out, making Shai’s
artistic mania seem to crackle off the page.
Even to those who dislike fantasy, The Emperor’s Soul is a wonderful read.
Its strong characterization and tight pacing draws you in, and its ingenious
use of literary criticism and artistic process as a form of magic rings true to
anybody with an interest in literature. For Sanderson’s fans, it’s even more of
a treat: its utter uniqueness with respect to his other works and the references
to the world of Elantris peppered
within just add to it.
No comments:
Post a Comment