osprey_archer (
osprey_archer) wrote2014-09-23 12:03 am
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Book Review: The Goblin Emperor
I just finished Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor, and to my relief, after bombing out on my first try, I did quite enjoy it this time around. I think the important thing is to read the first few chapters all in one gulp to get situated, because when I tried to do it the other way I gave up in a welter of “Who are all these people and why do all of their names have fifteen vowels?”
The worldbuilding in this book is beautifully intricate (I am continually frustrated by the fact that publishers don’t include maps in Monette’s books), and the politics are interesting, but at the same time, at least for me, The Goblin Emperor lacked the idtastic pull of Monette’s earlier books. The beautiful suffering quotient has gone way, way down, and I feel rather wistful about that.
I also was rather disappointed by the lack of emotional heft in the betrayals; there are two major ones in the book, but in both cases they’re betrayals orchestrated by people that Maia doesn’t know well and already has reason to dislike.
(Okay, and they’re helped by one of Maia’s bodyguards. One of the second-tier bodyguards, who figure very lightly in the narrative till the betrayal, and to whom he is not nearly as attached as the first-tier bodyguards.)
Perhaps, though, I’m just disappointed that my prediction turned out to be wrong: I figured that Maia’s personal secretary Csevet would betray him. Who is Csevet, after all? The courier who brought word that Maia had unexpectedly become emperor. He could be in the pay of anyone! He might have all sorts of devious agendas! But he doesn’t; he doesn’t have any personal agenda at all, in fact. Maia lucked into the perfect secretary.
I wasn’t expecting Politburo-worthy intrigue, but I wanted something with a little more teeth.
Having complained that the book was not the book I wanted it to be, I must say that for what it is, it’s quite charming. The world-building is really quite impressive, to the point that I was rather sorry that we, with Maia, were so hemmed in by the rules of imperial grandeur: I would have liked the chance to get out and explore.
The worldbuilding in this book is beautifully intricate (I am continually frustrated by the fact that publishers don’t include maps in Monette’s books), and the politics are interesting, but at the same time, at least for me, The Goblin Emperor lacked the idtastic pull of Monette’s earlier books. The beautiful suffering quotient has gone way, way down, and I feel rather wistful about that.
I also was rather disappointed by the lack of emotional heft in the betrayals; there are two major ones in the book, but in both cases they’re betrayals orchestrated by people that Maia doesn’t know well and already has reason to dislike.
(Okay, and they’re helped by one of Maia’s bodyguards. One of the second-tier bodyguards, who figure very lightly in the narrative till the betrayal, and to whom he is not nearly as attached as the first-tier bodyguards.)
Perhaps, though, I’m just disappointed that my prediction turned out to be wrong: I figured that Maia’s personal secretary Csevet would betray him. Who is Csevet, after all? The courier who brought word that Maia had unexpectedly become emperor. He could be in the pay of anyone! He might have all sorts of devious agendas! But he doesn’t; he doesn’t have any personal agenda at all, in fact. Maia lucked into the perfect secretary.
I wasn’t expecting Politburo-worthy intrigue, but I wanted something with a little more teeth.
Having complained that the book was not the book I wanted it to be, I must say that for what it is, it’s quite charming. The world-building is really quite impressive, to the point that I was rather sorry that we, with Maia, were so hemmed in by the rules of imperial grandeur: I would have liked the chance to get out and explore.
I do want to know more about him, though. I also see what you're saying about the weight of the various betrayals.
Everyone who isn't actively malevolent turns out to be quite nice in the end. That includes the hidebound conservative parliament member, and the teenage prince who's next in line for the throne, and the lady of quality with whom Maia enters into a betrothal of convenience, and even the shallow friend whose father is one of Maia's chief enemies. The only exception there is Setheris, and the surprise with Setheris is that he isn't actively malevolent even though he's an awful elven being. One would expect at least some of these people to be involved in Machiavellian plots.
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For a book that contains two major attempts to depose the emperor, the book seems fairly frictionless, and I think it is because, as you say, everyone who isn't evil turns out to be quite nice. And not just nice, but straightforward. The loyal characters all seem to mean what they say and say what they mean.
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Thinking about my feelings on The Goblin Emperor, on the one hand I agree that all these nice, straightforward people are missing characterization flaws. On the other hand, one of the reasons I like to linger in the world is that it's just so gentle. Yes, Maia, actually all these people like you and want you to have a happy birthday. Your illegitimate goblin aunts say hi and will be glad to come to your family parties. The terrifying council members aren't bad at all once you get to know them. There's a certain wish-fulfillment in there that I really do enjoy.
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But on the other hand. Most people don't send the emperor birthday presents because they want him to be happy; they send him birthday presents because they want favors. So there's this mismatch between the warm fuzziness of it all and political reality, and I kept expecting the other shoe to drop (they're sending me presents because they WANT STUFF) in a way it never did.
Then again, maybe to Maia having people want him to be happy even for completely self-serving reasons is enough.
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Maia is the only character the narrative really cares about (which is one of the reasons I'm not crazy about the book, really) - his position prevents him from getting close to other people, although there are a lot of people he likes. But the female characters are really cut from the same cloth as those in DoL.
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It sounds like those aspects of Monette's interests are less likely to come up here, but I guess I generally came away from DoL feeling really uncomfortable about the subtext re: homosexuality, and it makes me a bit suspicious of her as an author, especially in combination with Companion to Wolves, one of the most infuriating books I've ever read.
(I didn't have a problem with the female characters in DoL as such, but with the semi-exception of Mehitabel, I feel like Monette is only interested in writing female characters until male characters show up, although this is more irritatingly obvious in some of her short fiction. As I said, I'm conflicted because I like her stylistically and often enjoy her worldbuilding, and DoL was certainly compulsive reading, but the social undertones tend to bother me.)
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(I thought Felix was unsympathetic not because he recovered slowly, but because he dealt with his trauma by being cruel to everyone. But I suppose the fact that he reacts to trauma by becoming petty and cruel while Mildmay reacts by becoming strangely compassionate is, in itself, an unfortunate dynamic...)
I agree that Monette is generally only interested in writing female characters until male characters show up. The Goblin Emperor also solidified my feeling that there's really only one type of female character she really approves of, the sensible no-nonsense bluestocking type (I guess Mehitabel isn't really a bluestocking, but she knows enough to be a governess, at least). She has no patience at all for women who are silly or emotional or too femme (and she tends to collapse these three categories together).
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I had the same thought about Csevet! Or rather, more along the lines of, How handy that literally the first person you lay eyes on turns out to be really an excellent secretary for you! And all throughout, I felt that things fell out pretty heavily in Maia's favor, all things considered. Also, his good intentions never once went awry: he never did anything that was a hideous mistake whose consequences he had to then live with. On the one hand I was just as happy for that? It's a big wish-fulfillment thing for me to have good intentions communicate! To have the force of will and desire make a difference to people. But at the same time, it's really, really contrary to real life.
I also was bemused at the use of magic in this world. It comes up *solely* in the context of the attempts against Maia--once when the traitorous bodyguard puts the other one to sleep (but I misunderstood that as basically just due to some natural compound, you know, like elf chloroform), and the other where the bodyguard kills the attacker with death magic. Wow! Like wow! Magic doesn't figure at ALL and now it's killing people! As Little Springtime and I were saying to each other, What else can magic do? "Can it put a bridge across a river?" --"Nope!" "How about help with weaving fine silk so the weavers don't go blind?" --"Hells to the no!" "Mmmmm, can it help workers in some way?" --"Definitely not" ....
But for all that, I really enjoyed it. I liked being in Maia's company, I guess--liked seeing him figure things out.
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Meanwhile, other readers are like "
The human body doesn't bend that wayBut good intentions don't always result in good outcomes? Imperial courts usually aren't bastions of gentleness and love?"I did enjoy the book but I've never had the impulse to revisit it or read the sequel that is coming out in June.
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