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Je toujours serai premier dans votre vie
Sailing to Sarantium was a mosaic of a story... the prose powerful, the protaganist (Crispin) a normal man.. and the story incomplete...
I will go first Manon..Je toujours serai le premier pour vous
I thought sailing was a good read, but not a full story, "sailing to sarantium" could have ended when ariving at Sarantium and not lost anything (maybe) ...Why GGK takes a whole book merely to set the scene is beyond me. The story doesn't really begin until the following book...
The prose and choice of words are beautiful and the character of Crispin believeable... the world is well known and described.(it's Byzantium).. Linon was merely a plot device and stuck out like a sore thumb, it wasn't needed... take Linon out and the story remains the same...or possibly even stronger.
This book is more historical than fantasy in my opinion, Kay knows the period and what happened there and that time... but it lacks a certain creativity. He hints at Byzantium... we know it's Byza Town (founded by greek dude Byza) so why not go whole hog and called it Byzantium?
A brush with the magical world and sacrifice allows the reader a glimpse of what could have been... the portion following the bison was superb... GGK gave all 3 characters present an opportunity to describe the situation from each POV... this was great craft and demonstrated their latent motivations... I was awestruck at those scenes and his mastery of the story telling art...still, wasn't enough to elevate this work to the RECOMMENDED pile on my desk.
GGK has wonderful technique, the book is a mosaic and the story told from multiple POV's and so as the story unfolds, each character has unique perceptions and so we get really detailed look inside the characters.
Each of the characters contribute a unique POV that makes the WHOLE something bizarre and wonderous. The use of GGK's technique makes for careful reading as many minor details in one portion of the book refer to major issues elsewhere. The THEME seems to be life is a mosiac... built up, cemented, crumbling, multi faceted and many coloured... something of a puzzle. This work is difficult to classify... but in my opinion it isn't fantasy, it's historical fiction... but goodness, the quality of the writing is superb.
Crispin reminds me so much of Michelangelo... surrounded by war, soldiers and politicians he only sees the beauty in art and wants to share that pleasure...
The thing that concerns me the most about this book is the lack of emotional attachment the reader has to the characters... I just did not care enough about them, they took me to no highs, to no lows, I shared none of the emotions at all. The power for me was the intellectual struggle between art, politics and war within a web of intrique.
"Sailing" ends Nowhere... or is it the calm before the storm? The story really kicks off in book 2... and like a mosaic I think the ground work has been laid down for the gems to be laid upon at a later date... He's made his bed of mortar... now he plans to lay stones in it.
There is no emotional journey in this book, only the journey of Crispin from one place to another...it all seems so unrealistic... unless GGK pulls something big out of the bag in the next book.
The drama comes in book 2... why bother? Well, the power of the writing is in the prose... the sentences are exquisite... Crispin is a normal man...the history as far as I am aware is correct...and the promise of more to come is seductive. Crispin has to use his wits and the reader has to do the same, the teaser at the end of the book.. is pathetic... but something tell me that I will read the rest sometime... and be richer for it.
As a writer... I must say I admire his work... Sailing is not the best of his work, but there is more to come. A jumble of impression lies in my mind like a mosaic... I wonder if this is what GGK wanted me to think?
I am not sure if I can use direct quotes.. but look at this from chapter one... GGK... is powerful.
He came to, slowly, and gradually became aware of painful, flickering light and the scent of perfume. Not lavender. His head hurt, not altogether unexpectedly. The flour sack had been removed—obviously: he could see blurred candles, shapes behind them and around, vague as yet. His hands appeared to be free. He reached up and very gingerly felt around the egg-shaped lump at the back of his skull.
Now, in my opinion the book is worth reading for powerful images such as these... I hope you found my humble opinion useful!
Manon était que comme bon pour vous pour ainsi dire pour moi?