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A Song for Arbonne

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A Song For Arbonne
by Guy Gavriel Kay

Guy Kay's status as one of the finest contemporary fantasy novelists is due largely to the beauty of his prose, his substantial powers of description, and the depth of his characters - all traits of the fine fiction writer not normally associated (for shame!) with the fantasy genre. That his books are still shelved in the fantasy section of your local bookstore is due largely to his first efforts (The Fionavar Trilogy, Tigana) which are firmly within the fantasy tradition. A Song For Arbonne marks a decided step away from that tradition, as Kay almost completely eschews magic in this book (and those that follow) and concentrates more on the political and personal relationships between his characters.

The strongest argument for categorizing Kay as a fantasy writer is that his stories inhabit imaginary worlds. Kay's international bestseller Tigana was very loosely set in an imaginary Italy (he wrote part of the book in Tuscany) and with A Song For Arbonne and the books that follow, the extent that art imitates life becomes increasingly pointed, as Kay develops a place of his own to write books that fall somewhere between the fantasy and historical fiction genres.

A Song For Arbonne is Kay's hommage to Medieval France (he wrote most of the book in Provence) and the Court of Love. If the book lacks the epic sweep of Tigana, Kay makes up for it in his loving evocation of Arbonnais culture. It is this "flavor" of an imagined time and place that is one of Kay's hallmarks as a writer, and he is in fine form here.

The conflict in the novel exists on three planes: a religious struggle between the Sun God-worshipping Gorhautians (brutal northerners) and the Moon Goddess-worshipping Arbonnais, a complex political struggle not only between these two countries but within each also, and personal conflicts of honor and love amongst the characters as individuals. All this conflict keeps the action of the story moving along at a nice clip. The religious conflict, however, is not as well developed as the other strands of the story; Kay's description of a misogynist patriarchy seeking to annihilate a benevolent, liberal matriarchy lacks depth, as apt an analogue to European religious history as it may be.

As in all of Kay's novels, the protagonist characters (both male and female) are well-developed and sympathetic. Blaise, the Gorhautian soldier turned Arbonnais-sympathizer, presents the focal point of the story, and his exploits (on the battlefield and in the bedroom) and acceptance of the beauty and humanity of the Arbonnais and their Court of Love over the course of the novel is well done. If there is a lack of strong character writing in this book it is in the development of the antagonists: the power-mad King of Gorhaut and Galbert de Garsanc, High Elder of Corannos, his Chief Counselor, are somewhat two-dimensional, and did not hold this reader's interest as well as villains in other Kay novels.

Despite these weaknesses, A Song For Arbonne is a lovely novel, and if not as strong as some of Kay's other work, it is still Vintage Kay, any of whose books stand head and shoulders above the imitative, formulaic writing that plagues the fantasy genre.

Recommended for readers of literate fantasy.

This is the first of Kay's works where the conventions of fantasy are largely abandoned. In his preceding work, Tigana, he has already dropped the plethora of non-human and mythical entities that are an obligatory part of most fantasy settings. Here, he further reins in the role of magic. In A Song for Arbonne, magic is reduced to a completely subsidiary function. It is used only to supply a motive for one kingdom's conflict with another.

This is an entirely good thing. By divesting himself of fireballs, voodoo and the most overwrought elements of the supernatural, Kay has freed himself to play to his strengths: his gift for characterization, his lyrical voice and his facility with evocation.

This is not to say that there is anything wrong with a basic blood-and-guts sword and sorcery epic. Some of my favourite tales are Howard's original Conan stories. But Kay is a different writer. He is strongest when depicting the human condition. He does not paint dragons or demons convincingly. But his balladeers are so real that you swear he must have lived as one in a prior life.

It is not a perfect work. The changing tenses are confusing and unnecessary. Allusions are sometimes indulgent. The main character arrives at his redemption a tad too easily. The antagonists are not fleshed out deeply enough. Some of the secondary characters need more to do. But these are quibbles. They are noticeable only because Kay has achieved such a high standard throughout, that any criticism must focus on the niggling stuff. However, they are distracting enough to prevent a perfect score.

So what is there to recommend this book? Kay has produced a world so textured and substantial that we are intrigued more by the imaginary land of Arbonne than the real land of Provence after which it is modelled. We care not only for the main characters, but for all its inhabitants. A land so given to music and courtly love brings out the romantic within us. And Kay presents it with such grace and moderation that it is never forced or affected. As a result, the inner journey of the main protagonist from dour cynicism to compassionate nobility is entirely believable.

Kay's writings are not for everyone. His later work, especially, strays further and further from the comfort zone of fantasy, and this alienates many readers who are attracted to fantasy precisely because of the comfort zone. It is as if a mystery writer neglected to include a murder or a romance novelist foreswore any scenes of heartbreak. Kay appeals more to the introspective sort who appreciates human drama, in whichever setting it may take place, and feels at home with departures from the formula. For such a reader, this is a treasured find.

I have greatly enjoyed Guy Gavriel Kay's writing, and even found "The Fionavar Tapestry" engaging, if not equal to his later, more mature work. Kay is certainly one of the best and most original writers fantasy has to offer, and this work remains a favorite. Like "The Lions of Al-Rassan" and "Sailing to Sarantium ", the story is loosely based upon a historical period and culture, in this case the troubadour era of Mediterranean Europe. Kay interweaves his tale with the customs of medieval knighthood as well as the conflicting worship of a patriarchal sun god and an older, magical veneration of a goddess familiar to anyone having studied Robert Graves. Interlaced into these plot motifs are elements of court intrigue, mystery, and familial skeletons in the closet. Yet out of this seeming disparate stew Kay is able to distill a complicated tale of conflict that is not only believable but attains a life of its own. Unlike much fantasy fiction, the characterization is mature and complex, both in thought and motivation, and Kay's characters evolve with the story. Further, neither the plot nor the players always follow what is expected, yet at no time does the action become contrived or a stretch of one's credulity. Kay obviously loves the unforeseen twist, and cleverly calls it to use. And I think you'll find the aftermath to "A Song for Arbonne" an unsuspected delight.

How does one begin to describe what this book is about? It begins with love, circles around to honor, loyalty to one's country, one's family--and then at last comes full circle to explore love once again, this time striking into deeper waters than were previously believed to exist.

While it is not as tightly plotted and cohesive in its structure as 'Tigana', 'A Song for Arbonne', by exploring the uncharted waters of love and sacrifice, reaches a new level of depth and sadness which instead of harshly stabbing to the heart, sinks in slowly. There is less high drama here (although there is plenty) but the drama that there is has been built by mounting tensions which allow all the pieces to eventually draw together toward a wrenching conclusion. In the end it is all the more powerful for the subtle elements which went into its weaving.

'Tigana' dealt with shattering tragedies. This book does as well, but focuses more on the moments of deep grief and sadness, the nostalgia for lost innocence and music pouring from a broken heart; all the things born of tragedy yet so often ignored.

I do feel that this book has flaws: there was occasionally a lack of coherent structure--sometimes the book would have been more effective if there had been less jumping to different viewpoints; aside from the main cast, which is spectacular, some of these characters are minor and hard to care about. When I re-read the book, I tend to skip these sections.

However, these flaws are not enough to cloud the bittersweet glory of 'A Song for Arbonne', for they are eclipsed by the emotion and power which shines so brightly. Kay has created a masterpiece that any reader, even someone who does not read fantasy, can appreciate on its own terms.

I had heard great things about Guy Gavriel Kay, and this was my first exposure to his work. To say that I was impressed is an unambiguous understatement. This is as good a fantasy novel as any I've read in a long time. He has created a rich and vibrant world brimming with well fleshed-out, interesting characters. The plot is relatively uncomplicated, but smart and extraordinarily well paced. In fact, the pacing is so good that the over used and hackneyed term "page turner" actually fits just perfectly.

The fantasy content of the novel is mostly limited to the creation of a world loosely based on medieval France. Magic is almost non-existent, and there are no trolls, elves, unicorns, etc. The story deals with very human emotions: love, loyalty, honor, duty etc., but also with jealousy, hatred, bigotry, and more. It is also an excellent political thriller with plenty of plot twists and turns. All in all, I could recommend this book to anyone, whether you are a veteran reader of fantasy novels, or a novice to the genre.

First of all: a word of warning. Although this book pretends to be a blend of historical novel and fantasy, the elements of 14th century Europe are hardly more than decorative elements used to tell an all-out royal fantasy. Avid readers of that genre should not expect the unexpected. Actually, some of the adaptations of historical material are rather irritating, at least to my European sensitivities. The main example are Kay's portrayal of citizens and culture of the six countries which make up his fantasy world: these are instantly recognizable as stereotyped versions of medieval European countries, including backstabbing Italians and boorish Germans. Compared with Kay's other 'historical fantasies', Arbonne's plot draws little on historical material. His later 'Lions of Al-Rassan' succeeds much better at capturing the drama of an age.

This is not, however, my main reason for feeling somewhat disappointed with the book after I finished reading it. I blush to confess that I would take an in-your-face fantasy over a well-researched historical novel any time. But while 'Arbonne' is certainly in-your-face (I could imagine that some readers would find some rather explicit descriptions of rather personal encounters between characters even a bit too in-their-face), its main shortcoming is Kay's clicheed and exaggerated depiction of his protagonists' mental life. As a reader, I like my emotions subtlely shown in the characters' actions, rather than shouted at my face by the author. And since Arbonne's characters are largely driven by emotions, there is a lot of shouting going on in this book. Although there are some scenes in which this sentimentality works admirably well, and which genuinely touched me, overall I felt shamelessly manipulated by Kay's prose, and I did not like the book better for it. Again, compared to 'Al-Rassan', 'Arbonne' comes out the lesser book.

All in all: if you like to spend a nice weekend with a royal fantasy with a slight twist, and you do not mind your emotional sensitivities played soap-opera-style, this is a perfect book for you. Otherwise, consider yourself warned before you start reading: you will not be able to turn it down, but you might end up somewhat dissatisfied, just like I did.

As soon as I read the Prologue, and read the elegant paragraphs that Kay is renowned for, and the introduction of the plot and several the main characters, I was swept away... This book has great fight scenes; interesting discussions, often quite humourous, making me laugh aloud; and much more... This book climaxes with a battle at the end, then the all the twists of the plot comes into place and you find yourself in a rush of emotions. I thought about what you have read and I whispered 'Wow'. And that is the only way to describe it. This is possibly Kay's best work, on a level to match Tolkien, Weis and Hickman, Brooks, Goodkind, and all the top fantasy authors and the authors of any other genre very easily, and this work surpasses all but a few books, not just in the fantasy world, but in all literature...

I finished Arbonne feeling starngly depressed, and not at all sure that I liked it. But after the book hovered in my mind for two weeks, I deceided there must have been something there to influence me like that, so I read it again.... Arbonne's power is the same reason it left me feeling disturbed. It's a book that, unlike most fantasies, refuses to take the easy way out. The theme intruduced in Tigana is here given full play: we do not live in Fionvarre. We live in a world that's complicated and dark, and where things seldom turned out as planned. The many ironies-- whether it is Alaise nearly destroying her land in repayment for an evil which never exsisted, Bertarn being forced to keep alive a man for a secret he doesn't know, or Blaise being controlled by his father as he defines himself by rebelling against him--all these ironies within ironies, the shattering of charished assuptions show that Kay is willing to deal with the world on its own terms. The rich inter-relationships, which, by any other author would have been crude and dramatic, instead give a sense of muted tradegy and add to the theme of an imperfect world, where we can't always finish what was began. Ranald and Blaise's twisted relationship, or Lisseut staying in the shadows leaves a longer and deeper impression then the usual happy ending. Robin Hobb is the only author I can think of who has had the courage to do the same.

"We must be what we are, or we become our enemies," may be the defining line of this interesting, occasionally downright beautiful story of a country's preparation for war.

The story is set in the Middle Ages, in a time of dangerous shifts in the balance of power. Arbonne - the country we are rooting for - is without an heir, and its northern neighbor, Gorhaut, is looking to invade. The societies of the south and the north are actually remarkably similar in their underlying patriarchy, including the use of women and marriage as pawns in a game of power, but the outward appearance of their culture and religion ("woman-ruled" Arbonne with its trubadours, glorification of love and worship of the goddess Rian alongside the god Corannos) and hard, bitter, war-obsessed masculine Gorhaut that has no place for Rian) are different enough to incite hatred.

Both Arbonne and Gorhaut are divided. The division of the former is the result of a bitter feud between two noblemen (de Miraval and de Talair) over the wife of one and the lover of the other who died in childbirth twenty-three years ago. The division of Gorhaut is rooted in a disadvantageous treaty that handed over a good chunk of the country to the enemy, although Gorhaut had won the war, as well as the unpopularity of its hedonistic, cruel king.

Can Arbonne avoid utter annihilation? Can its rulers (the clever Barbentain and the Talair families - the once beautiful, now wise and kind Signe, her daughter, Beatritz, the blind High Priestess, her niece, Ariane, the reigning beauty of the day, and Bertran de Talair, former lover of Signe's other daughter) remain true to who they are and still win the war? Can Bertran and Urte de Miraval set aside their hatred to unite in defending Arbonne? (And whatever happened to Bertran's child?)

On the other side, the calculating and ambitious Galbert de Garsenc is manipulating the king according to his secret designs while looking forward to burning as many heathen women in Arbonne as possible. The dynamic and unknown central character is Blaise, Galbert's son who chafes against his father's will and despises the new king. He had left Gorhaut for these reasons and is now be asked to fight against it. Where do his loyalties lie?

A song for Arbonne is worth reading for its political intrigue, complicated plot, likable characters and a general sense that what is at stake may indeed matter. Kay does a good job of showing the intricate and unpredicable ways in which free will and fate are intertwined to propel action, so that one can never be sure that what is right is also possible.

I actually cared about the characters by the end of the book. :)

"Even the birds above the lake are singing of my love..." for A Song for Arbonne, by Guy Gavriel Kay. Set in the fantasy land of Arbonne, a sun-kissed fertile kingdom of paganistic, matriarchal religion, the plot of the book is based on an old secret, firmly rooted in the history of Arbonne, dealing with courtly love. Bertran de Talair, arguably the most colorfully complex product of Kay's imagination and also my favorite character, is a highly respected troubadour, or songwriter, and duke of Arbonne. His scandalous relationship with the wife of a prominent duke and princess of Arbonne ended with her death that caused him grief for decades to come, an inner turmoil that he seldom speaks of. Though he is connected with a long line of women, Bertran never married and he is not just a handsome troubadour, but an aging one, who, through the years, never managed to find another love, making the reader sympathetic with the blue-eyed courtier. Kay unravels the history of Bretran carefully, and though the tale is revealed early on in the story, when Bertran tells it, the reader is crushed by his sorrow, creating a bond between Bertran and the reader through dramatic irony and well developed characters. A classic song the joglars of Arbonne sing praises the beauty of Aelis de Miraval, written by Bertran himself, and the reader is opened up to the history of the love affair as well as the culture of Arbonne: "Even the birds above the lake are singing of my love..." (21). The day twenty three years ago when Bertran and Aelis were together, she claimed there was magic in the room and she was right; a women of so much power like herself, daughter and heiress to her father's kingdom and wife to the most powerful duke of all Arbonne was standing weak-kneed before the handsome, young troubadour, both in love, capturing the reader in the seeds of a romance that ended in tragedy. Duke Bertran de Talair, influential and seductive, was not the powerful, composed man he seemed to be, but an angsty, grieving, aging man, weakened by the loss of the love of his life, as the reader can see by the veil lifted by Kay's writing. After another accomplishment in the bed of a local baron's wife, the duke says nostalgically, "The gods know, and sweet Rian knows I've tried, but in twenty-three years I've never found a woman to equal her, or take away the memory, even for a night" (39). At the end, with the death of his lifelong enemy, Urte de Miraval, Aelis's husband, "Bertran had lost... the passion of hatred that had ordered and shaped his life for more than twenty years", and the reader, already so caught up in the tale, feels the sting of an old burn because of the relationship already created with Bertran. Conflicts like the ones between Urte and Bertran or within Bertran himself add to the exquisitely complex storyline based on that ancient secret, and it isn't just another cliched fantasy story of good vs. evil. Bertran is plagued with the death of Aelis and the child she carried, unable to kill Urte all through the years for the truth he may carry although he hates him for never loving his wife, a unique conflict where neither side is good nor evil. Although there is another conflict with the land to the north of Arbonne, Gorhaut, a savage and cold kingdom that declares war on the southern country for religious differences, Kay didn't stop there with his writing and added more conflicts. A Song for Arbonne is an extremely involving, fast read that is not only romantic but also has action and historical aspects, ideal for readers who enjoy vivid descriptions that bring the characters and land to life.