Customer Reviews

Against All Things Ending (The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Book 3)

5 star:		(43)
4 star:		(25)
3 star:		(24)
2 star:		(21)
1 star:		(26)

 

 

I reread "Fatal Revenant" in the days previous to the release of "Against All Things Ending," and I could barely contain my excitement as I waited the final day... unfortunately, I quickly found myself in the shoes of Thomas Covenant himself, begging people to hit him in order to pull him from the stupor of his memories and back to the present.

The endless repetitive narration and introspective whining on the parts of the characters (when the world was about to end, mind you) was indulgent and offensive to me. Half the time I felt like I was stuck in a bad history lecture. With a head cold. Even if I had not "known" the main characters for years, I would have been screaming, "ENOUGH! I GET IT!" after the first ten times I was clobbered with their indulgent angst.

Every character's motivations (or lack thereof) was overexplained, and when the action *did* happen, it seemed like filler so that we could quickly get back to a scene where everyone rested and thought about/felt sorry for themselves, or rode long distances and thought about/felt sorry for themselves. No one ever knew what to do or how to do it, and the few characters who *did* were quickly discounted so there could be more self-recriminations later.

Although I haven't been a Linden Avery hater in the past, I'm rapidly approaching that state. Mr. Donaldson seems to have forgotten how to build effective characters, concentrating more on his impressive vocabulary and making sure we don't forget how much everyone loathes him/herself and how utterly clueless they seem to have become.

Even the secondary characters lacked the soul of Covenant's previous works - specifically the Giants and the Humbled, as other reviewers have pointed out. I too had a hard time differentiating between them - and didn't really care enough about them to try. Even Linden and Covenant thought more about Saltheart Foamfollower and Grimmand Honninsgrove than the giants they were actually with!

The Insequent were fascinating at first, but even the Mahdoubt - my favorite secondary character in this series - was reduced to nothing more than a cheap deux ex machina. Not only do Donaldson's faithful readers deserve more than that, but his beautiful, brutal creation of The Land deserves more than that.

The book did improve toward the end - and Jeremiah's awakening was admittedly moving. The problem is, by then I wanted to yell to him, "Tell her she can't touch you! Tell her she can't touch you!" Because I'm mean that way.

In the end, I was left feeling disappointed and a bit angry. I don't mind a cliffhanger ending, but this one seemed to end in the middle of nowhere. The whole scene with Infelice and Jeremiah's construct baffled me to no end ~ I never did understand why, if she was so worried about what Jeremiah was doing, she didn't just stay the heck away. I guess she, too, was only worried - and rightfully so, it seems - about herself.

One last comment about Donaldson's language. I have never minded this in the past, as I do not believe he (or anyone) should ever have to dumb themselves down. If I don't know the meaning of a word, I gladly look it up. (And Kindle is GREAT for this... although some of his words were not even *IN* the dictionary included!) However, I am also a believer in using your language effectively, and Donaldson did not. He used the same $5 words over... and over... and over.

I will definitely still read the last volume of this series. I know every book can't be phenomenal. However, I would not reread "Against All Things Ending" under any circumstances. It felt like a gigantic chore of just so much filler when it should have been a joy. To me, that is the saddest thing of all.

As a lifelong Donaldson fan, it slays me to admit it - but this book is just not very good (though it does get better as it goes along).

For the third book in a four book series, just not enough happens, and a huge number of problems and foes are left to be settled in the fourth book - and with the glacial pace of this book, I actually wonder if the author can pull if off without a bunch of cheap and lame deus ex machina moments, as so marred this book (far too many of the deaths were random, cheap, and lame, for example).

There is far too much time spent in pointless and repetitive introspection (particularly in the mind of Linden Avery, who rarely seems to have any new thoughts or revelations) and in conversation between the characters - OK, so the world is ending, and we will spend dozens and dozens and dozens and dozens of pages just standing around talking? About the same issues again and again? And again and again and again? And then again some more?

What ever happened to an author showing rather than telling?

Donaldson has seemingly forgotten his strengths as a writer. In the past even when you wanted to reach into one of his books and strangle Covenant or Linden, you still had Mhoram and Pitchwife and other wonderful and lovable secondary characters to keep you going. In this book I cannot even manage keep the names of most of the secondary characters straight. There are few if any differences between the Humbled (between themselves) or the Giants (other than Longwrath). It is hard to care about characters who are little more than mere plot points - and this from an author who has previously written some of the best character driven epic fantasy out there.

Instead the author seems to be trying to write a Malazan book - with a huge cast of mostly undeveloped characters, lots of uberpowerful mages, never before (or rarely) mentioned godlike beings coming out of nowhere, and some confusion as to exactly what is going on. But what works with Malazan - in a universe MEANT to be like that - does not work particularly well in an already established universe which has not previously contained these elements. It just manages to screw around with some long established elements of the series (and NOT in a good way).

As a lifelong fan, I will be reading the fourth book. But I hope it will be a heck of a lot better than this one.

To frame this review, please understand that I am a huge Stephen R. Donaldson fan and think his Thomas Covenant series is some of the best books I have every read. In some respects, he ruined my love of the fantasy genre because other writers seemed shallow and trite by comparison.

However, I was a little disappointed in this work. Here are my main complaints:

1. The pacing is painstakingly slow and the characters spend too much time muddling about and wondering what they should do, seemingly to reserve time (pages) for over self-analysis/self-recrimination. In the first two series, there was at least a clear framework of what the characters should do or what was their general aim. In this series, and this book in particular, not so much.

2. I am finding that most of the characters that surround Linden I really don't care about. In Mr. Donaldson's previous works, I found myself emotionally attached to the characters and that is why I think he separates himself from 99% of other writers. I often times will go back to read individual chapters just to revisit Bannor, Mhoram, Pitchwife, Sunder, etc.. In this series, more specifically this book, I find I really don't care whether any of Linden's companions live, die, do something heroic or whatever. Even Thomas Covenant is often relegated to the role of an observor or non-factor. Does anyone really care which, if any, of the Ramen die? How about any Giant? Liand? Any Huruchai? The best and most interesting characters are the ones that come and go (Esmer, any Insequent)

3. Too many of the characters are enigmas needing to be solved, or waiting for certain conditions ot occur, or know things but won't tell. Esmer, Jeremiah, Thomas Covenant, Anele, Mahrtiir, the urviles, need I go on? This contributes to the lack of direction and general muddling about.

4. The plot lines that do get resolved in this book ended up leaving me unsatisfied. I'm found myself wondering "Really? That's how this ended?" I won't go into details so as not to spoil anything, but I was definitely disappointed.

I know this sounds harsh, but that is not my intention. I rated it three stars because it does have some strong points (you still can't predict how the story unfolds) and a couple of good parts (I won't be a spoiler). If you have read the first two novels, you will want to pick this one up too. Just lower your expectations. That said, I am anxiously awaiting the conclusion.

I've read all of the Covenant books, many of them many times, but this time it struck me--hard--how thoroughly Donaldson is rewriting the Lord of the Rings, how heavily he continues to be dependent on it. Almost every aspect of the Land descends from some aspect of Middle-earth, filtered through Donaldson's very different emotional and intellectual sensibilities: Ramen v. Rohirrim, giants v. ents, forests v. forests, Andelain v. Lothlorien, Mount Thunder v. Moria, aliantha v. lembas, ur-Viles v. orcs, Ravers v. Nazgul, ring v. Ring. When he gets out of the Land proper, in the Second Chronicles, that influence wanes, but now he's back to it, and packing TLOTR with him.

Even more fundamentally, however, Donaldson has learned from Tolkien how to base high fantasy on lore. As you probably know, Tolkien made up his elvish languages first, then had to write a story in order to sell a book about those languages. The lore was his priority, the thing he liked to think about and tweak in his spare time. Except for the hobbits, his characters are not particularly distinguishable or "round." Could you tell Elrond from Celeborn after you hung out with them for a couple of hours? The races have more distinct and interesting characteristics than the characters themselves. People who don't like fantasy so much like the hobbits, who feel like humans, but the real test of whether you read Tolkien to the fullest is how you feel about the Council of Elrond. I remember where I was when I heard that the Challenger exploded, when I saw 9/11, and when I first read the Council of Elrond. My family were missionaries in Africa, and I was curled up in a chair while my dad tried to raise someone through a radio. I was learning the lore of Middle-earth, staring right into its vertiginously beautiful heart, and my life would never be the same.

Likewise Donaldson. Perhaps the clearest image of how his fantasy works is the Wards of Lore, seven of them, and we never ever see all seven--always we know that something beautiful's out there we'll never know. His races are more distinct and interesting than the characters within them (see Haruchai, Giants, Stonedownors, Waynhim). Much of the drama in the Covenant books has to do with finding the lost lore, or, to put it another way, making decisions based on way too little information. It is a fantasy based on ideas. Donaldson is rewriting religions in these books: resurrection, choosing between a son and a world, apocalypse, eternal torment. Its plot is a series of unrealistic ethical dilemmas. The dilemmas are agonizing, but those caught in them experience larger-than-life, heroic emotions. Few of us this side of Horton Hears a Who have had to choose whether or not to risk or kill a world of people we're not sure even exist, whether or not to possess someone, whether to trust sensory data once we have been a leper, in what instances it is proper to use power that could destroy the structures that hold the universe together. The characters and the plot serve the ideas and tragic cathartic emotional complexes, run their implications like a computer program.

The thing about lore-based fantasy is that talking drives the plot. And that brings us to Against All Things Ending. These characters will pass up no opportunity to chat for a while. Dump them into pitch darkness under a mountain, and they'll talk things over, and most everyone in the sizable band will get a say. Events--really important, soul-stirring events--will happen in order that people can rehash them three or four times and wring all the meaning out they possibly can. Linden tries to save Jeremiah, for instance. Several times. Each time she talks her way up to it, in internal monologue and external dialogue. She discursively thinks her way through the attempt. Then, when it fails, she tries to figure out why, and asks for help in doing so, and gets it in sheaves of pages.

And that's OK. That's the kind of book this book is. It exists for the sake of its lore, for the sake of what more we can learn about how the Land works. And how we can interact emotionally with its grandeur. I keep reading the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant not so much because I care about Jeremiah or Joan or Liand but because Donaldson keeps feeding me answers to questions about the Land that I used to have in earlier books, as well as more questions to which I now want answers. AATE is a remarkably stimulating cognitive experience, tinged with wonder. I liked it a lot. This is high fantasy: a land and a full cosmology we can love insatiably.

This book is certainly not as good as it could be. Donaldson adheres closely to the principle: Never use one syllable when three or four will do. And that's too bad, because he can write lean mean prose when he puts his mind to it: "Free / Unfettered / Shriven / Free." At least that's of a piece with his penchant for abstraction and abstract ideas (sidenote: at one point something lies along the ground "like immanence." Really? Immanence? Immanence doesn't lie along the ground, for one thing. But it is something above involved with something below, while remaning ontologically separate from it--there's philosophical information here, if not sensory. Anyway, these are not thoughts we'd get from, say, Robert Jordan). There's one good poem in the book, and several bad ones. The (frequent) Council of Elrond kinds of scenes are too talky and chatty, more often reminding us of what had come before and explaining it rather than providing new information about what's coming. It is the ninth of ten books, after all, and the eighth one was written three years ago. Keeping all that information straight for readers is sometimes an intolerable strain on author and plot. The emotions are too over-the-top. Maybe that's in keeping with the X-treme ethical dilemmas, but, come on, Linden, let someone else take the blame for once.

But, bottom line, if you read the Lord of the Rings for Samwise Gamgee and his whimsical attachment to beer and potatoes, this is not the book or series for you. If you read it for the Council of Elrond, or, better yet, if you read the Silmarillion from cover to cover because you just couldn't get enough of undifferentiated, tragic Elves and the high buzz of wonder they give you, you're much more likely to enjoy Against All Things Ending. I'm reminded again of why they told Tolkien the Silmarillion would never be published. Better yet--why forty + publishing houses turned down Lord Foul's Bane . . . and why Del Rey said yes.

The whole time I was reading the book I got the feeling that Donaldson was sick of writing and didn't have enough material to make the publishers happy. I wouldn't be shocked if he resorted to cut and paste, and changing a few words here or there, for filler. He WAS a great story teller and when there is something happening he still is. Its the in between that has deserted him.

3 main problems

1. Why fill the book with past quotes? Is this a rip on the intelligence of the reader, the author or just Donaldson's love of his own writing? I don't need or want to CONSTANTLY be reminded of what EVERY character said in the previous books. If I really care I'll read them again. Foreshadowing is a great art but when you use it hundreds of times it just annoying. Not to mention how stupid it is that every character remembers every conversation verbatim. As if.

2. Enough of the polysyllabic blathering. Its like Donaldson had a side job teaching SAT prep courses and decided to parley every word he taught into one book and then had a contest with himself to see which word he could slip in the most. Is his ego so fragile that he couldn't pare it back a tad? I would love to see a count of every word. I'll take percipience, vitriol, susurration, ululation, puissance and beneficence over the words the and is. Enough already, we can all reference thesaurus.com. Quit showing off. Too many five dollar words leaves me unfettered, unclean and filled with pestilence.

3. Does anyone really care about this style of writing?

Char 1-sits by idly, Char 2-has a blank stare, Char 3-seems restless, ... Char 20-really has to take a crap. Linden hates herself and remembers every bad thing that happens to her (5 pages).
Char 1-decides to stand, Char 2-fell asleep, Char 3-stabs himself in the leg, ... Char 20-wipes up with a leaf. Linden realizes that they all love her but still can't help but thinking of every bad thing and everything anyone ever said to her. (5 more pages).
Update every character again. Rinse and repeat.

My god!!! How annoying. This might work with a couple of characters every 50 pages or so but 80% of the time? Lazy writing x 10000000.

So to recap. If you like rereading what you already read, enjoy big words you may have never seen before that wreck continuity, and reading the thoughts of a whining bore intermingled with the 10 second update of every characters appearance, feelings and locations; then this may be the book for you.

The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant have still not really taken off even three quarters of the way through the planned tetralogy, making it unlikely that they ever will. And the belief that the physical reappearance of Thomas Covenant at the very end of book two would signal a new urgency in Donaldson's writing proved to be unfounded as well. Nevertheless one aspect of Donaldson's project remains impressive enough that I still can't quite write this series off. That is the author's sheer ambition for, and his utter ruthlessness in, the destruction of his created world, once one of the most famous in fantasy. What Donaldson did in unmaking The Land in the The Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant was shocking enough. The scope of his current destruction far, far exceeds the ravages of the Sunbane. I'm not sure I agree with his decision or what I take to be his motivation, but there certainly is at times a "terrible beauty" in the grand picture.

However, the satisfying high fantasy aspects of the big picture aside, the actual execution is very awkward and frustrating. The book still fails to really grip, in large part because of how thoroughly the self-absorbed yet uncompelling Linden Avery continues to dominate the story. There is little sharing of point of view until near the book's end, and any who assumed that with Covenant's resurrection some sort of character balance would be restored to the series are proven wrong. Donaldson's fascination with the Linden character remains baffling, and I think he long ago should have realized that her mother and father issues, seemingly put behind her as far back as The One Tree, can no longer captivate generation after generation of new readers.

But the overreliance on Linden is not this novel's only flaw. A related issue which would still stand even if Linden were a better lead is the failure of the secondary and tertiary characters. The latter part of book two not only returned Covenant to the Land but also brought the long-expected reappearance of Giants. Unfortunately, these Giants are mostly just minions rather than persons. They serve the purpose of red shirts on Star Trek. As for the other minor characters, while it's true that Manethrall Mahrtiir and a couple of the Haruchai have become characters in their own right, many other members of Linden's small company and the various powers who visit them sporadically are revealed to have, as suspected, not mattered much in the long run at all. This retroactively makes Donaldson's insistence on harping on these uninteresting characters in books one and two even more annoying than it was at the time.

The story is far too mentally claustrophobic. Donaldson has depicted a locked-in individual before, Covenant in the Second Chronicles (not to mention the constant presence of Vain in that series). This story features not only Linden's autistic son Jeremiah and Covenant's catatonic ex-wife Joan, possessed by a Raver; but also frequent episodes of psychic dissociation on the parts of Covenant and Linden themselves.

Donaldson raises a number of moral issues, although it is not clear that he answers them even to his own satisfaction. He reiterates one fairly unexceptionable lesson from the first Chronicles, that true evil does not flower from good deeds. Regardless of what bad things may occur from someone making a particular choice, if that choice was truly and selflessly made there is no blame to be assigned no matter what the result. This I think is a fairly unobjectionable judgment in any moral system, so I was surprised to see it repeated here since Mhoram and Covenant both came to the same traditional perspective on the issue a third of a (real) century ago. Presumably the purpose was so that the much thornier issue of whether good can result from an evil deed could be explored.

Donaldson has set up a flagrant contrast between one major character, who betrays his child to save a world, and another, who would betray a world to save her child. As I said, it's not clear to me which side of this conflict Donaldson himself favors, or if he disapproves of both decisions (my own position) or approves or both. My gut feeling is that his superhero Linden Avery will ultimately be justified in the author's eyes while Covenant will not. We shall see.

But in any event, the cold disposal of one once-important character into a hell to save others from an immediate threat is hard to get past. If nothing else, Covenant and his other long-dead companions don't seem to have gained much of the vast wisdom of ages I would expect anyone with abilities to achieve over millennia. In the reanimated Covenant's case this can be written off as his physical form not now being able to contain he who was once the Arch of Time. But in the cases of the still-dead Sunder and Hollian, presumably still under the watchful eyes of the old Lords, there doesn't seem to be any conceivable justification for what they do.

I had not previously noticed any "elemental" groundings in the first two books in these Chronicles. But Donaldson's extensive, almost sacramental use of water in this book made me reconsider the first two and retroactively see Fatal Revenant as a fire novel and The Runes of the Earth as, of course, an earth one. Am I reading too much into some water scenes? I don't think so, but The Last Dark should answer the question. It will either be an "air" book or not. Does all this ultimately mean anything even if so, or it it just casual symbolism indicative of nothing in particular on the author's part? I do not think the four elements, even if I am right, will lie at the heart of the resolution of the series.

All this is to say obviously that the book is thought-provoking, if maddening and even at times boring. So the story is not a one- or two-star read despite the many, many flaws. If it is a failure, it is a big failure, not a meager one. But I expect that whatever resolution Donaldson has in mind for these Chronicles will enrage readers to a degree proportionate to how highly they once regarded the first two series. I would not be surprised if the ultimate reader judgment on this series is to pretend it never happened, at least for a large part of the fanbase of the two "classic" series.

Many an artist, as he ages, has strongly resisted the idea that his peak creative achievement came when he was less than half his current age, and that for three decades he has essentially been spinning his wheels and only selling his new works based on his old rep. Ask Paul McCartney what the best album he was part of creating was and he won't say Revolver or Rubber Soul, he'll say whatever he released in 2008. But authors, unlike musicians, can do more than simply assert that their new works are better than their old ones. They can retroactively undermine their classic works with revisionist writing. Can I prove that is what is consciously or unconsciously motivating Donaldson here? No. Can I prove that he hasn't, as claimed, always had exactly whatever 2013 answer he's going to give us in mind and it's not just his way of thumbing his nose at an undiscerning public who failed to recognize the true genius of his Gap series? No.

Maybe Donaldson is indeed revealing an old truth rather than unwriting his old works as a sign of contempt for his fans. Orson Scott Card claims as much about his own rewriting of his Ender series to show how in actuality Bean was the prime mover all along. Other authors have done this, especially in SF (Niven, of course). They can't all be lying or fooling themselves. Then again, they can't all be telling the truth, especially when so much of the suspected revisionism, instead of clicking into place, jars subtly with details that the older writer has failed to account for. In any case, there's nothing that Donaldson can do to keep me from at least suspecting that his true motivations may be somewhat less than purely creative, and from fearing that the urge to destroy the world of The Land so that his stupid fans will stop bothering him to write another Covenant series and finally realize how great his mystery novels are will be too great for him to overcome. These suspicions, perhaps petty on my part, are probably not unique among Donaldson's readership.

The fourth book should be an interesting ride, but I am preparing to ultimately feel annoyed and insulted, and I would caution other Last Chronicles readers to brace yourselves, too. But do read the third book, if not now then in 2013 before The Last Dark appears and ends one of fantasy's most important series.

I grew up with the Chronicles of Thomas Convenant. Read 'em 2-3 times and loved them, even though the heroes are SO conflicted. Sure, it's derivative of Tolkien; sure, they're long--but they were a ton of fun.

The new series? I wish I could say they were great. For some, maybe they are. Not for me. The internal monologues/emotional conflicts/psychodrama were so blown up in this book that I wanted to scream at the characters "Do something! Your world is literally about to end!". I kept going because I thought the ending would make it worthwhile.

And then I realized--there's a FOURTH book?

No way. Sorry. Can't go there. I've given Donaldson probably a month of my life reading his books. But it's become too torturous. I just can't take Covenant and Linden any more.

I had to put it down with 100 pages left. And I never put books down.

I read all of the previous Covenant books, and I waited for this for years. The story drags horribly with endless whiney introspection. Not only are his characters self absorbed to a fault, they are much less clever than they once were. I got about two thirds of the way through with this book, and I gave it away. I just no longer care.

There really isn't any point in reviewing this, is there? Either you are a Covenant fan, have read the previous 8 books, and you *HAVE* to read this one; or you are not a Covenant fan, have not read all 8 prior books, and you should not come anywhere near this one. Either you MUST read it, or you must not read it, there's no middle ground; and a review isn't going to make any difference.

Just a few words then on what this has for those of us who had no choice. Mild spoilers, not too bad.

This book will disappoint you right away. After the end of the last book, you are probably ready for the return of TC, all dour and extreme. Donaldson shatters that hope right away, spending the first chapter detailing how TC's mind can't handle the experience of or knowledge from being part of the Arch for thousands of years. So TC is going to be intermittently lucid and vacant, rather like Annele. Great.

But fine, we've seen that before (in The One Tree), this doesn't mean the story won't be good. The great disappointment of the first section of the book, is that Linden & her party spend THE FIRST HUNDRED PAGES in that grove from the end of Fatal Revenant. Just talking! There were a lot of stakeholders present, at the end of the prior book: Linden has to square herself and talk to EACH ONE, for like a chapter each. Receive recriminations, make promises, blah-blah-blah. Seriously, on page 102 they are still in that grove, getting ready to maybe start to do something. These books have always been talky, the characters have always had to search themselves: but this is such a blatant disregard for narrative momentum, it's just a slap in the face. I had no choice but to stick with it, just as you have no choice: but I was seriously annoyed with Donaldson.

(While I'm annoyed, let me also say that after the middle third of the book, I don't see what the point is of the Insequent. Seems to me they add nothing to this series; they could be removed without any loss of narrative strength, the only effect being maybe to tighten this series from a tetralogy to a trilogy. What would we lose? Just the retcon from Fatal Revenant of how Berek learned his lore, right? Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe book 4 will make the Insequent important.)

The good news? The book picks up. The last third is very strong, with two stirring wrap-ups to important subplots. (Sort of three, in a way.) And then the necessary black cliff-hanger, of course. Just in the short time since I finished the book, I've gone back and re-read most of the last third a few times. It's enough to make you eager for the grand finale. I think the conclusion will be very large-scale and satisfying.

So in the end I am pleased with this book. Not that it matters: you either have to read it, or you don't. If you're one of us who have to, then you should steel yourself for some annoyance in the first third.

I've judged my enjoyment of Donaldson's entries in this 9 volume series based not so much on plot (almost always interesting) or character (often compelling, often frustrating) but on simple vocabulary and grammar (most often maddening).

I picked up the latest (and God please be the last) volume and by the end of the second paragraph one am struck with:

"The burden of too much time was as profound as orogeny; it subjected his ordinary mind to pressures akin to those which caused earthquakes; tectonic shifts. His compelled transubstantiation left him frangible."

Eh. Okay.

Within a dozen pages or so we find (some more than once, some in the same sentence):

exigencies, fervid, sentience, serverances, intransigence, consternation, flagrant, imitable, chiaroscuro, carious, truncated, theurgies, minatory, gemmed, excruciation, assiduous, machinations, innominate ... as in "taut with innominate expectations."

It would be funny if not so annoying. I know what these words mean, I can parse the odd sentences, but why use language that actually gets in the way? I don't know if Donaldson is showing off or feels such writing makes the work more profound, or what, but really it makes him look like a bad writer trying too hard.

And yet I will plod on through the plodding writing. I have been invested since 1977. I love the story. But the words get in the way!

UPDATE: O! Lucky day. There's a fourth book in the final trilogy. The love/hate relationship continues ...