Customer Reviews

Last Dragon

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(7)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

"Last Dragon", published as the first of the Wizard of the Coast Discoveries, is like no Fantasy novel I've ever read. It's non-linear, told as a series of letters? reminiscences? campfire tales? that flit about events and times yet slowly and inexorably bring the reader to the book's conclusion.

To sum up the principal narrative, primary narrator Zahn is on the verge of qualifying as a Rider, a warrior who fights on bison-back, when news comes that her putative grandfather has murdered her mother and all her illegitimate siblings, plus the village shaman. Now Zahn cannot be a Rider; she must follow the shaman's path, instead. But first, she and her uncle Seth must hunt down her grandfather, and exact retribution. She and Seth travel to distant Proliux, where they are separated. Only when Zahn falls in with heretic paladin Adel does she make progress towards her goal. But mercenary forces threaten Zahn's homeland, and perhaps only she and Adel can save it.

Yet when we first meet Zahn, she is an old woman, looking back on her life and grieving for her lost lover, Esumi, and her murdered child. History, it seems, has repeated itself.

It's a sad tale, littered with betrayals, and at the same time uncompromising. No convenient explanations are offered for what sometimes seems inexplicable--what was Adel's motive, after all? Perhaps Zahn and her quest take the place of the lost dragon to whom Adel previously gave her allegiance, but if that's so, the novel isn't going to give up the information easily. This is a book that demands to be read, pondered, and re-read, if it's to be understood by the reader.

One barrier, for me, to engaging with the narrative was that when it changes time and/or place, it makes no overt attempt to clue the reader in. Given the book's told in a lot of short snippets, some only a couple of pages long, some less than a page, this means the reader is constantly jarred by the need to work out where they are and what's going on. This choppiness leads to disengagement, and also means that important information at the beginnings of scenes is lost in the struggle. Further, when the book changes narrators, it doesn't change voice. Towards the middle, it's hard to know if it's Zahn talking to us, or Fest, a mercenary who joins her crew. The overall effect is a bit like trying to understand a radio play when someone--without any warning--keeps switching the channels.

This book will reward the reader who seeks not immersion in the fictive dream, but the challenge of putting together a disjointed narrative into a text that has meaning for them.

[Reviewed by Debbie Moorhouse]

Much like the story itself, it's a little hard to find the beginning of a review on this book. There were a lot of things I liked very much about this novel, the author's first, which succeeds for the most part in implementing some very difficult storytelling techniques. Overall, though, I felt it reads more like the work of a very talented amateur than a professional author.

The novel is told non-chronologically, in the form of letters written by the dying narrator, Zhan, to her once-lover Esumi. As such, the ordering of scenes and events is more intuitive than logical; it appears the narrator is jumping from one memory to another as her mind associates images, places, and words. The effect is reminiscent of such works as Joseph Heller's Catch-22 or Gene Wolfe's Book of the Short Sun. In fact, I would be unsurprised if the author has read his fair share of Gene Wolfe: the narrative experimentation and the need for the reader to actively assemble the story in his or her own mind remind me of some of Wolfe's best works. It's a difficult trick to pull off, but McDermott succeeds... mostly. Before too long into the novel, the reader is given enough information to piece together a rough chronology; at least, the author is fairly clear about letting you know whether or not a given scene takes place before, during, or after the "current" point in the narrative. Unfortunately, this effect seems to taper off towards the end, as the story becomes much more linear in the last quarter or so of the novel.

The plot itself is interesting, though not exceptional. It combines elements of a coming-of-age tale, revenge, justice, travelogue, and politics in some rather unique ways. I'd have much preferred, however, if the author had focused more on the interplay between these themes than on the fractured narrative structure, which, although interesting, can't entirely sustain the novel. I also found the ending somewhat dissatisfying: given that the reader in large part knows the outcome from the beginning, it would have been nice if the climactic moments had been presented in some new or unexpected way. Instead, the story builds to a climax that never comes, instead quickly glossing over those final events and leaving me, at least, feeling slightly cheated out of a proper ending.

The characters are effective for the most part, though some seem to be largely unnecessary. I enjoyed the fact that we are given glimpses of several of the characters long before we actually "meet" them in the story. It gives a haunting effect, as of faces half-glimpsed through fog. On the one hand, the characters seem one-dimensional at times; on the other hand, their motivations are clear and understandable. The only exception to this is the character Adel, who the narrator never fully understood. I don't think enough information is given to truly grasp this character, and she's left as an unsatisfying question mark. The work would have been much stronger if the author had paid more attention to Adel, who is arguably the main character of the novel. (As an aside, she may also be the title character, if I'm understanding a very oblique reference mentioned in one scene. Then again, I may simply be reading too much into it. Otherwise, the title doesn't seem to relate much to the content of the story at all.) In the end, it seems as if the author can't decide whether he's more interested in Zhan or Adel, and as a result neither gets the full treatment she deserves.

The prose is, for the most part, well crafted. The narrator writes in a clipped, matter-of-fact style, with short declarative sentences being the norm. This does begin to sound repetitive after a while, but the author clearly made some attempt to vary the style while keeping the narrative voice. After a while, I noticed the clipped writing less and less, though the narrative voice was still quite clear. The descriptions are quite good when they appear, often evoking vivid, detailed imagery. I would have preferred more detail be given about the settings, especially the city of Proliux. It's supposed to be completely alien to Zhan, unlike anything she's ever experienced before, but the lack of detailed description renders it, in my mind at least, as "generic big foreign city." A few telltale glimpses of the architecture or the customs would have gone a long way toward building a strong setting, especially given the author's skill with descriptive prose.

My biggest critique of the novel, however, lies in the level of individual words, especially names. Names, perhaps more than anything else, are the key to establishing a consistent sense of place and culture. This is especially true in fantasy literature (it is, perhaps, unfair to invoke Tolkien here, so I'll let that pass), though one doesn't have to leave the real world to find this phenomenon. Consider these: John, Brian, Lancaster; Akiko, Yoshinori, Saijo; Mbwana, Jumaane, Shangani. Each is consistent in sounds and structure, and evokes a very specific kind of image in the mind. By contrast, the names in Last Dragon don't seem to adhere to any specific pattern. For example, the following are all supposed to be from the same culture: Zhan, Seth, Tsui, Alameda, Bear, Ilhota (not to mention that Zhan uses both the words "skald" and "sensei" to describe roles within her land). Reading the acknowledgements gives a clue as to why the names are so disjointed, but even so, I found it to deeply break the sense of immersion in the novel (though I won't deny allegations that I'm overly language-focused in general).

Overall, I'd say this is a good book, and well worth reading if you're a fantasy fan. The reason I criticize it so much (perhaps too much) is because I feel that it could have been a top bestseller with a little more polish. Even so, McDermott is a highly promising young voice in the fantasy genre, if this debut novel is any indication. I look forward to following what I hope will be a long and successful career for him.

At first, I purchased this for the novelty sake that the arthor and I share the same initals and last name. What I bought was a great work of fantasy that differed from all the other pulp. The delivery was inticing, and served in a manner like the directive styling of Quentin Tarantino, minus cliched lines and buckets of blood.

Follow the broken memories of a dying Empress from her youth in mountains to how she was pivotal in creating an empire. Zhan is a young woman whose grandfather has killed her whole village, leaving only the shaman's apprentance, Seth (his own son), and a simpleton boy. Seth and Zhan set out to find their relative in a strange city where they are seperated. Seth falls inlove with a gypsy woman, and Zhan is taken in by a paladin that served the last dragon. Together with a mercenary this unlikely fellowship travels in search of the murderer, and give a new meaning to the idea of a golem. They are thrust into power plays that will change the world beyound what they could imagine.

Sound good? It's because it is.

I admit I bought this book completely on a whim... based solely on the fact that the cover was enigmatic, yes, I am a sucker for good cover design. I had no idea what I was in for.

And I still haven't quite decided how much I liked it.

Like another reviewer said, it is very Tarantino-esque, with the story line jumping from time-line to time-line.. even switching characters completely with hardly any indication. But after the first few chapters, you start to get a hang of whats going on, even though it still would take me a few sentences (often the entirety of the chapter) to figure out exactly where and when and who you are.

At about 3/4 through you start to see where everything is going, and near the end the pace really picks up as the bits and pieces start to fall into place. But it was the end that really put me off. I honestly felt that several chapters went missing, or that it should have ended at a previous chapter... something just wasn't right and left me with this empty feeling that I somehow bought the teaser version of the story, or I'd just watched a J.J. Abrams film.

The story itself is rich and dramatic, the characters each unique with races parallel to our own reality.

I dunno... maybe I liked it so much I was left wanting for more?

Most major entries in this genre strive very hard to present the reader with a clear image of the environment and the overall direction that the author is taking with the story in a strict A, B, C, type of format. This is not at all the case with Last Dragon. That's not a criticism. It's one of the novels strongest selling points.

Most fantasy authors will attempt to spoon feed every little detail of the story as it unfolded in their heads to the audience and all to often the case becomes that the resulting work is slow and tedious and suffers from being bogged down with so many unnecessary details that, while imaginative, do nothing to further the story. Last Dragon however demands that the reader bring something to the table, and connect the dots for themselves. This author doesn't waste his prose overly describing the setting and the scenery but rather uses it to create a thick and at time almost palpable mood for the journey these characters must undertake. This makes for a much more gripping and fast paced narrative which, while deliberately confusing at times, allows the reader to connect with the actual meat of the story on a much more personal level.

The novel shifts back and forth rapidly between the past and the present, but if the reader is willing to pay attention it quickly becomes clear what scenes are taking place where in the narrative. There seems to be quite a bit of peripheral information in the novel about which the reader is constantly kept in the dark such as motivations and background information, but then again this is a story about how the characters themselves react to their harsh and unrelenting environment rather than the specifics of what exactly that environment is.

Overall I felt this was a great book but one which requires a more dedication from the reader than your typical A + B = C style novel.

Other reviews have already covered the structure and plot, so I'll not repeat. The first third or so of the book is was challenging read, as it deliberately assumes knowledge the reader doesn't have, to add to the realism. As I started to build a mental model of the world and story, it became easier to quickly slot events into the overall timeline. At this point, it became an easier read, and I could recognize and be excited by new revelations of the plot. The initial effort of figuring out the novel became something of an investment, so by the second half of the book I had a personal connection with the story that made it hard to put down.

This is a really hard book to review. I could spend hours talking about the structure, how it augments the story by moving it ever forward even in flashbacks. I could talk about the layers of meaning, about who really is the titular Last Dragon and who are the ants. I could even talk about narrative, how it is both bleak and beautiful with just enough of each to show the war around them and the affection the narrator holds for her lover. But I'm going to do my best.

If I were to give this book a single marketing pitch it would be, As I Lay Dying as an epic fantasy. Basic premise is a dying empress of a great nation is writing her biography to her long lost lover--in the form of short, disarranged letters--in hopes that he might write back to her before her final hour. Her life is fading even as she relates her story.

The story is told in short, clippy scenes that are scattered up and down the timeline of the novel in imitation of how memories work in real life (stream of conscious memories?). About two thirds of the way through the pattern becomes clear, but realizing the intricacy of the form makes the novel more enjoyable, so I won't give it away here.

The funny thing is, McDermott actually uses several epic fantasy tropes, but because of the story, the form, and the plot, the tropes get swallowed up by the greater whole. This is a story about how the empress became the empress, and how the empire became the empire, and how war, greed, but mostly happenstance played a part in all of this. But it is also so personal that most of the time you could forget about war or vengeance missions, and feel just the intimate connection with the characters.

This book isn't for everyone (there isn't a book that is). If you don't like literary writing styles, don't like nonlinear story structure, or are only interested in action packed pulps (I don't mean that as an insult, I love pulp novels) then you probably won't like this book. This book is a dream, a memory, a life, and a fantasy story all at once, and if that combination sounds appealing to you then you'll love this book.

I am an admirer of difficult fictions. Not the sort that are intentionally obtuse or so intricate that a manual is required to understand them, so dense and esoteric that you need a sharpened stick of literary theory to penetrate them. Thought-experiments are sometimes enjoyable to read, but for fiction I need more than that; I need to be pulled into the story, not left outside of it scratching my head. I need a reason to engage and enter a piece of fiction, a character or situation or point-of-view that draws me to read more.

J. M. McDermott's Last Dragon starts off by making you worried. After the first several pages you wonder if you have entered into a metafictional puzzle, some sort of stereotypically-postmodern labyrinth that wants you to feel lost, worried, and perplexed. You are drawn into parallel stories of a dying, bitter empress writing to her lost lover and of the woman she was in her youth, tackling a quest that seems simultaneously foolish and impossible to fulfill. Names of characters and scenes from her past life are written in her letters out of sequence, mixed in with longing and regret and guilt. While there are two stories that emerge here, they are not the point of the novel. This is an ambitious work that wants us to reflect on how we make sense out of our lives and constantly strive to bring all of its disparate elements into a whole that inevitably slips away from us, regardless of desire or intent.

The web metaphor at the beginning is deceptive; you might think that this means a pattern will emerge, an easy narratology that guides you through the morass of memories and contrition. But that idea quickly fades and is replaced by ants, who appear not just in the words of the novel but crawl over the pages as scene breaks, and scramble over a neat grid of squares at the start of each section. Ants feasting on corpses, crawling in odd places, scattering here and there, infesting, escaping, being caught in webs, overflowing from cracks and mouths. This novel is not a web, not a latticework of supports and linkages; it is a colony of ants running about gathering all what they can find and bringing it back to the queen, who then chooses what to consume, what to leave scattered around her. By the time the narrator invokes the web again towards the end of the book, you see the metaphor as the trap that it is.

It is a quest novel, but that quest is immediately dropped on the ground like a platter of food, and the rest of the novel is an attempt to not re-assemble it, but to find choice bits and let the ants bring them back for the narrator's mnemonic digestion. The novel does not reconstruct either the narrative of the quest or of the empress' bitterness, it is an attempt to use them to make the reader ponder the process of understanding the past. It is a subjective exploration of how our attempts to impose meaning and reason are often transformed by distance and longing and guilt, how the story never ends up being straight even if we know the progression. Who we are when the story is told, who we are when we witness it, what we hope to gain from it; all of these factors shape the story, and that is as true for the reader of Last Dragon as it is for the dying narrator.

The book is intentionally disorienting and bewildering. We come to know Zhan, the narrator, both by her admonitions of her long-fled lover and by the slow assemblage of the story of the journey that unintentionally birthed an empire. As she pleads with Esumi to write back she tells him a tale that, after awhile, you realize must already be known by him. The tale is told through a gathering of recollections about Zhan's hunt for her murderous grandfather with her Uncle Seth (who is only a few year her senior) and a mustering of companions who seem both fated and doomed to be a part of the story. As the story aggregates (I would not call it moving forward) many significant moments come to light, but the view of them is hazy when seen from so far away in the future they helped to create. It is up to the reader to discern not just the order of things, but what clarity is even possible.

As the reader you are never permitted to relax or just coast through the story. You must actively attend to the words, and constantly work to make sense of what they tell you, of what the narrator tells you, of what the very form and presence of her memories tell you. It is fragmented, sometimes overly much. It is a novel that requires a lot of work from the reader, because it is disconcerting by design. Which is part of the point; the novel's narrative is broken up into a series of impressions which the narrator is trying to make sense of even as her emotions and desires and regrets keep getting in the way and making the task of strict re-assembly impossible. The depth and richness of the novel comes from the reader interacting with the effects of that task, with these disarrayed vignettes and reflections.

As we gradually learn the outlines of the story, we see the future solidify, gain clues from the quest that tell us why the empress is deteriorating in spirit as well as body. To make the story more understandable to herself and Esumi she uses "masks" and talks from the perspectives of some of her companions. But what we come to realize is that the entire work is a masque itself, an artifice of wishes and disappointments. McDermott has, to paraphrase Catherynne Valente, broken the fantasy quest novel and made it beautiful. The beauty is not in its content, for Zhan's world is merciless and filthy, built with the remains of corpses and betrayals, with no happy endings, or even bearable ones. As Zhan herself puts it:

"And when we sleep we see inside ourselves at the web of memories. The smells, and the sights, and the tastes and textures. And afterlife, this is all we have. This is all I have left. I reach for the ghosts that melt together. I try to rattle the truth of my life."

One could take away from this novel the conclusion that life sucks, that memory is fickle, that love and will and purpose all fade, that everyone is already a ghost in the minds of all around them. The novel is saturated with the roughness of life, with all of the ways that people use each other yet cannot escape the decay of existence. And it has its flaws, moments that don't feel right, some artificiality of explanation to keep the reader from feeling completely adrift or an exchange between characters that feels forced. It feels so elemental that these stand out, but are then put behind you, like a mistake in one's own life. The human truths that suffuse the novel are unimpeded by these small moments.

But none of these things are the point; we are all well aware of these conclusions. Who needs a novel to tell them that life is difficult and memory is more than a repository of facts and events? There is no pretension here that we are being acquainted with something new, from the shattered contours of a quest novel to the saudade that assails us throughout the novel. We are being reminded that we are human, we are being forced to remember that, as we try to comprehend the metaphors and dialogue and descriptions. McDermott uses us, our very ability to read and interpret and ponder, to make his point. It is not an easy point to assimilate, but that too is part of our humanity and the stories we tell. (Reproduced, with slight editing, from my website [...])

I thoroughly enjoyed Last Dragon. It's beautifully written and incredibly atmospheric. The story is unusual too, never a bit predictable--it was great to read it and not know where the plot was going. The shifting of timelines is well done and contributed to the moody, almost dreamlike feel of the book.

It's a great debut novel, and I'm looking forward to reading more by McDermott!

I really enjoyed this book. However, I have to admit that I was disappointed in the high price. It is tradeback size, with a quality cover, but what seemed to be at least 1/2 of the 380ish pages have only a paragraph or two on them. Hence, it is a quick read for the price.