Review: House of Chains by Steven Erikson

Blurb:

In Northern Genabackis, a raiding party of savage tribal warriors descends from the mountains into the southern flatlands. Their intention is to wreak havoc amongst the despised lowlanders, but for the one named Karsa Orlong it marks the beginning of what will prove to be an extraordinary destiny.

Some years later, it is the aftermath of the Chain of Dogs. Tavore, the Adjunct to the Empress, has arrived in the last remaining Malazan stronghold of Seven Cities. New to command, she must hone twelve thousand soldiers, mostly raw recruits but for a handful of veterans of Coltaine's legendary march, into a force capable of challenging the massed hordes of Sha'ik's Whirlwind who lie in wait in the heart of the Holy Desert.

But waiting is never easy. The seer's warlords are locked into a power struggle that threatens the very soul of the rebellion, while Sha'ik herself suffers, haunted by the knowledge of her nemesis: her own sister, Tavore.

And so begins this awesome new chapter in Steven Erikson's acclaimed Malazan Book of the Fallen . . .

Review:

“This is how, in the cadence of our voice, we serve nature’s greatest need. Facing nature, we are the balance. Ever the balance to chaos.”

When I started reading House of Chains a few weeks ago, my wife asked me what I was reading, and in her follow-up question of what it’s about, my brain short-circuited in trying to distill Malazan into a few short sentences. It’s a testament to the breadth of imagination that Steven Erikson has put into this series, and over the first three books, each run across his canvas was a masterstroke. After reading the absolute titan that was Memories of Ice last year, I was excited to see what House of Chains had to offer, but though those brilliant stroke of genius are still present, it ultimately falls to a more tentative brush that fails to craft as grand a picture as before.

The Teblor warrior Karsa Orlong has descended from the mountains of northern Genabackis to lead raids against the lowlanders, but what begins as a simple mission of conquest unveils a destiny for Karsa that he neither expects nor desires. Years later, the legendary march of the Chain of Dogs as concluded, and the Adjunct Tavore arrives in Seven Cities to hone her new raw recruits into a capable army to challenge the impending arrival of the seer Sha’ik, who faces her own struggles of rebellion within her ranks…as well as the knowledge that this conflict will pit her against her own sister.

House of Chains comes out of the gate swinging. In contrast to the grand—and, at times, almost prohibitively so—scope of the first three books, the first part of this tale of the Book of the Fallen is singularly focused on Karsa’s descent to the lowlands, and the bloodshed that soon follows. I found this to be a refreshing change of pace, given how exhausting the series can sometimes be. Karsa’s arc across this book is fantastic, going from a savage warrior gripped by bloodlust to a man fiercely rejecting the destiny that has been laid out for him. It’s a great twist on the “chosen hero” trope, where he sees he is chosen, says “Fuck that,” and is dead-set on putting those who chose him beneath the dirt. And though it was a bit jarring—though not unexpected—to place the sole focus of the first “book” of the tale on who we believe to be a new character, Erikson still manages to tie it all back to prior tales of the series in fascinating ways. After the shock of losing some favorite characters in the previous book, it was great to be so easily enamored with someone new.

“Soon. Yes, we’ve needed a song. We’ve waited a long time for such a song. To honor our deeds, our struggles. Our lives and our deaths. We’ve needed our own voice, so that our spirits could march, march ever onward. To battle. To war. Manning these walls of crumbled brick and sand. Defending the bone-dry harbors and the dead cities that once blazed with ancient dreams, that once flickered life’s reflection on the warm, shallow sea. Even memories need to be defended.”

Which makes it all the rougher that the rest of the cast does not hit anywhere near as hard. Much like Memories of Ice continued with the plot beats of Gardens of the Moon, House of Chains is a sequel of sorts to Deadhouse Gates, but where previous books—Gates and Ice especially—had defining moments that helped to elevate the stories even higher, this tale is sorely lacking that. For much of the book following the introductory section focusing on Karsa, House of Chains mostly plods along, the characters of focus lacking that same excitement as the Teblor warrior-turned-servant. Nothing is necessarily bad, per se, but much of the book lacks that oomph of previous entries to lift it higher. Even the big emotional climax of House of Chains failed to hit as hard as that of the Chain of Dogs or the Bridgeburners’ fate, an indictment of sorts on the dry cast this time around.

That said, the series’ strengths remain as hardy as ever. Erikson’s prose is still magical, the Malazan world is still believably massive, and more and more wrinkles continue to unfurl. Deciphering everything in this series is a puzzle unto itself, but I’ve found that the deeper I get into the series, the more I enjoy being overwhelmed by it all. It’s inaccessible to many, and it’s difficult to recommend to the casual fantasy reader, but as someone who loves massive scopes and tremendous amount of detail, I’m always enthralled by the level of imagination on display here, even in the weakest entry of the series thus far.

“When I began this journey, I was young. I believed in one thing. I believed in glory. I know now, ’Siballe, that glory is nothing. Nothing. This is what I now understand.” 

House of Chains does not reach as high as the first three books in the series, but it still wears Malazan’s biggest strengths on its sleeve. However, this is the first instance of the series falling to the scope of its ambitions. It aims high, hits the mark in some respects, but misses completely elsewhere. But I can’t disrespect the effort, regardless. Onward to Midnight Tides.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, WITNESS!