It breaks my heart to write this, but this book just isn't very good.
(SPOILERS AHEAD.)
Jacqueline Carey's been my favorite author since I first read Kushiel's Dart in January 2002. That book caught me from the first paragraph, and I read the first chapter right there in the bookstore, before buying it. If you're reading this, you probably know what an experience falling in love with that book--that world--was for me. There were some less-convincing characters, and some less-riveting passages, but for three epic novels, the quality level was kept remarkably high throughout.
The fundamentally wonderful thing about Kushiel's Dart was how dense it was, how much beauty and intrigue and meaning was packed into each page, into each plot development. The last two books of the first series were slightly less dense, but made up for it with rich action.
The Imriel series was more difficult to love. The characters were, for the most part, still 3d and believable, Imri's inner personality was fully realized, and his interactions with those around him followed an emotional logic. But the first two books' plots were pretty thin, and could have been condensed into one. Carey bulked them out with too many placeholder characters, too many pointless dead-end activities (why DID he go to Rome, anyway?), and too many ideas not fully realized (that secret society sure was a dud).
Worst of all, the pivotal plot point--that Imri turns his back on love to pursue duty, with disastrous results--always felt forced, like the author was making a character do something unnatural for the sake of her plot. That's bad enough when it's a brief episode...but it was the bulk of the second novel. As a result of that psychological forcing, the book dragged a lot, as you followed him through what you knew the WHOLE TIME was the wrong decision and its foreshadowed consequences. Only in the third Imriel book do we really get back to the high adventure and clockwork pace that defined the first trilogy from the start.
The Imriel series' quality suffered due to this feeling of filler and incredibly slow pace in the first two novels. But Carey picked it back up in the third, and that series overall left a good taste in my mouth. However, you can sell books by writing decent trilogies, but to be a good author, your novels themselves need reread value. Two of that series three books don't really have it.
Which brings us to Naamah's Kiss. This novel not only doesn't stand on its own (which is STILL the best criteria of a good trilogy-opener), it arguably wouldn't have been published at all, were it a first novel by an unknown author.
Moirin is dull. Her mother is dull. Her first lover is dull, and so is his family. Carey tried to write the story of a naive, uncivilized girl, but missed the mark on actual innocence, substituting vagueness and exploitability. I know, not everybody can be a Delaunay-trained genius, or even a conflicted quasi-Shahrizai. But Moirin took subjectivity, unreliability, and naivete to an almost Faulknerian level. And that's as close as Naamah's Kiss came to literature.
There are a handful of beautiful passages and concepts here--Moirin's initiation, her developing relationship with her father, and the scenes where we begin to understand, and then meet, the dragon. The passages with her father are moving, and I appreciated the theme where she comes to terms with having a D'Angeline heritage and gift, as well as the Alban one she's loyal to. Exploring Moirin's multi-ethnicity, and the interactions of her two gifts through her young adulthood--not to mention the changes in Alba and Terre D'Ange in the new century--these would have been enough for a whole book.
But the author who rote the densely-packed Kushiel's Dart is long gone. Carey takes enough plot points for the first quarter of a Phedre story, and spreads them over the whole novel. Now, I don't want to read another Phedre story. I want to read a densely-packed Moirin story...and Moirin's story is the thinnest Carey's ever put to print.
So much could still have been done with the Alban part of the book, the culture and rites, the tension of the different ethnic groups--that's where Moirin shines, in the beginning. The initiation rite itself was beautiful, pure Carey. But it only serves to highlight the flatness of the rest of the tale. Instead, Carey reaches for what's become a worn-thin plot contrivance: send the character to another country. It's become less a metaphor for her characters' growth, and more of a substitute for it. It feels like Moirin is, as Imri unfortunately sometimes was, less of her own person and more of a tool of the author, setting up plot points for later books at the expense of interest and density in the present one. It felt like the author preparing to stretch a little bit of story a long way.
Second big problem in this book: Terre D'Ange has become an aggravating place. I can't think of one single likeable character in the whole City of Elua. The closest I came to relating to them was a brief twinge of compassion when a couple of them (temporarily) acted stable and humane. The ones that weren't tediously loco were savior-perfect. All those admirable, unique characters populating the first two series? Nothing like that here. All those villains you loved to hate, and the deliciously ambivalent ones? Nowhere to be found. Moirin's friends at the Palace (of course) are abrasive, self-absorbed nuts, and her enemies are simply petty and selfish. In fact, there's a pretty fair overlap of her friends and enemies. This doesn't make for intrigue. It just makes Moirin look unintelligent.
Carey had an amazing opportunity to display a place familiar to her readers--Terre D'Ange and the City of Elua--through fresh eyes, even critical eyes. Instead, she has Moirin get accustomed rather fast, embroiling her in a fairly shrill and petty Palace clique. After a time, the only differentiation Moirin has is her ability to be exploited, and repetitive references to her spiritual practice and healing ability.
Which leads me to one of my biggest problems with the novel: the Asian characters. Frankly, I got tired of the "Me Chinese" way Carey made them talk, as well as the gamut of Asian stereotypes they ran. I mean, seriously? Wise old meditation-teaching herbal scholar, with his mysterious young warrior-acolyte? Just no. I absolutely couldn't believe the love interest was Bao. He's easily the least-desireable character Carey's ever written, and that includes Waldemar Selig.
Bao's a cypher. He's rude. His big draw is that he apparently smells like metal. Another critic was right--he's the poor man's Joscelin. There is no chemistry whatsoever between him and Moirin. Their union was a dismaying surprise--not in the wonderful Phedre-Joscelin way, more an upsetting "Carey doesn't seriously expect me to buy this" sort of way. Bao's all set up to be the big soulmate, Moirin's MacGuffin for the next book...and their relationship is just flat absurd.
Sexuality in Carey's first trilogy was a deeply meaningful, spiritual act--not only did plot points hinge on it, but so did philosophical ideas. I'm sure a lot of us fans fell in love with this story in part because of the boundary-pushing, yet beautiful portrayal of sex and love. In the second series, we are treated to Imriel's growth out of sexual abuse and into the conflict between duty and following his passion. I think that's what makes me feel most burned of all about Moirin's story. The sex here is just this side of meaningless and random. It's like Carey's heart's just not in that aspect of her writing anymore. I agree with another reader that some of the sex here verges on cheesy. Moirin doesn't have any believable chemistry with anyone she sleeps with; the closest she comes to that is early teenage hormones. The "gift of desire" of Naamah, part of Moirin's heritage, goes quickly from an intriguing concept into a belabored plot device, steering Moirin here and there. If it was used to move the plot forward, I could even understand that; but none of Moirin's relationships seem to matter much to the plot at all. In addition, Moirin is abused by two of her lovers, and it is barely acknowledged. How is that reflective of Elua's will? If Carey wanted to portray D'Angeline society as unwell, that should have been a major theme of the book...not something touched-on and excused.
It all just felt like Carey's publishing too often--biting off big undigested chunks of ideas, set up and then quickly abandoned; interspersed with long, drawn-out passages that go nowhere, filled with decisions you want to shake the characters for making. I don't want her to write the same story over again, that's not why I'm sad. I just want her to keep working on a book until it's at the level of quality we all know she can reach.
I know people who love JC will think I'm not a fan, and hate on my review. But honestly, who out there will calim this is as good as Kushiel's Dart, or even Kushiel's Mercy? If those were five-star books, then this can't be.
I hate to criticize my favorite author. I am sure that Carey will get the story told and that it will be worth reading. But after years of excitedly buying her books the day they arrived, I'll be checking the next one out of the library first.
