A Conspiracy of Kings
Mar. 30th, 2010 11:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ricardienneI was good and woke up early to call my adviser's friend on the east coast with whom to talk about graduate schools (it was useful). As a reward, I am going to write about probably the best thing that has happened this spring, namely, the fact that Megan Whalen Turner has published a new novel.
I will say, before cutting for spoilers, that I didn't like this one quite as much as I liked the others, perhaps because I found the main character less compelling than Eugenides or Costis. But it did all of the good things that MWTs books: intricate plotting (both kinds), meaningful issues of responsibility/government/personal desires, good characters, good stupid characters, wonderful intervention of religion, interesting narrative issues...and lots of fodder for classics geekery, of course!
I want to talk about gaps. Since The Thief, we are used to information that is concealed and to narrators who don't tell everything. The internal narrator is like the author: Gen (and, in this book, Sophos) withholds important pieces of the story as he tells it. It's how an author creates suspense; it's how a narrator creates suspense? Is Gen suspending us (not by our thumbs, we hope)? In fact, the end of The Thief tells us that he isn't. We find out that we have been reading the account that Eugenides wrote of his adventures. It is an account that will be read by people who know it was written by Eugenides the Thief of Eddis (and the King of Attolia), who know that Eugenides stole Hamiathes's Gift and presented it to the Queen of Eddis, who know who Sophos is...one might say that the "truest" reading of The Thief will happen when the entire series has been written and read.
(I reread The Thief last night; I was struck by how well it foreshadows details of the later books. Of course it does, you say -- the author wrote them later, wrote them to be foreshadowed by the earlier book. But when did Eugenides write that account? Did he know that his hand would be cut off and that he would become annux over Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia? Can you read it not knowing that, now? (I tell people that they should read the series in order; Megan Whalen Turner points out on her website that reading them in order will spoil The King of Attolia. In what order did Costis 'read' Eugenides's story?)
But I was talking about gaps. In A Conspiracy of Kings there are lots of significant spaces. The author doesn't tell us what Eugenides and Sophos discuss in the wineshop, of course she doesn't. If we were told then, we wouldn't be surprised as it unfolded. Of course she doesn't make us privy to the explanations that Eddis gives to Sophos at the end: to do so would be redundant, since we, in our fourth book of the story and well-versed in the characters of Attolis and his queen, already know the things that Sounis has to be told. (May I digress here to remark that I love the play with title and addresses? There is a person/ruler divide that becomes more prominently problematic in each book; MWT has been playing with it all along, and, since forms of address are probably my favorite thing ever, it makes me so happy!) At the same time, it cuts us the readers out of so much: we're left to have to put a lot of things together, to do a lot of interpretation of character, to get beyond the appearance to see what these rulers are doing and what is at stake.
But there is also the entire romance of Eddis and Sophos, which has been happening untold throughout the past several books, and which suddenly appears now in all of its not quite maturity. It's the "we were penpals and now we're actually meeting again and where does the fantasy meet the reality?" gap. It's the "I've been running my country and you've been doing what, exactly?" gap. The gap in Sophos's political life that he spent presumed dead and enslaved. The gap between ideals and reality, between Sophos's memory of Gen and -- this goes two directions -- the reality of Attolis and the reality of Zecush the slave. (The moment where Sophos realizes that he has been beaten like a slave and that he doesn't have pride to be wounded was hugely significant and lovely.) And the gap between what Sophos thinks he realizes, when he has learned something, and what is actually happening. The most significant space: Eddis's silence.
"I began my second captivity. Sophos says. The first captivity was the one in disguise, the one where Sophos wasn't in control of his circumstances, the one where he could compare his sojourn in obscurity with The Thief and decide that he was lacking. The second one is the one with a plan behind it; it's a narrative that imitates The Thief; it's the one where Sophos, as he tells it, sees himself imitating Gen and achieving his trickiness and brilliant plotting. And he does and he doesn't. It's not his plan and it isn't his autonomy. (The King Attolia needs a strong ruler under him in Sounis: someone who will keep fractious barons in line and make them provide the
soldiers and the resources he needs. Eddis needs a stable Sounis where she can resettle her population. Practicality of getting the kingdom aside, they need a king there who will not compromise with his barons in supporting their interests. And so they get one. Sophos gets, along the way, a lesson in realpolitik and a lesson in why Attolis is a preferable master to the Mede; these may be side benefits.)
Sophos is so concerned with his autonomy. He decides to act and not to be a slave, and it becomes an obsession. Being recognized as a person, pulling off a plot à la Eugenides. But if slavery is losing one's will over one's body, rulership -- and this is the great moral of these books -- is losing one's will over one's intentions and thoughts. (It is significant, I think, that Eugenides is maimed before he becomes king; it's then clear in the later books that he maintains his autonomy (and his sanity) by his attitude toward his body (opulent clothing, whining, complaining, slouching in the chair). Sophos thinks that he's offended Eddis by encroaching on her personal autonomy when he thought he was fighting for her political autonomy. And that misses the point: they are none of them autonomous. That is the lesson of the library. (It's an interesting lesson, a very classical novel in its treatment of slavery.)
But I've been digressing a lot. What I like so much about this series is how much it prompts one to think about narratives. In The King of Attolia, Eugenides interrupts Phresine's story to say that he wanted a story with "a happy ending." And the story does, in the end, have a a happy ending? Coincidence? Or perhaps it's just a good idea to give the king a happy ending when he demands one. A Conspiracy of Kings does so many interesting things with narratives: the difference between the author's narration to us and Sophos' narration to Eddis is apparent (Sophos is simpler and more paratactic). The difference between Sophos' second narration and The Thief is also instructive: Sophos is obviously imitating the "unreliable" narrative of The Thief, but he doesn't do it quite as skillfully as Eugenides did. True, that his narration is private (to Eddis) rather than public (the book that Eugenides wrote and which may or may not have made its way to Sophos, as we learn), the terms of the omitted information are different. Sophos doesn't tell Eddis what she already knows; but Eugenides's readers also would know everything that would make the story enjoyably recognizable. Keep on learning from your annux, Sophos!
I will say, before cutting for spoilers, that I didn't like this one quite as much as I liked the others, perhaps because I found the main character less compelling than Eugenides or Costis. But it did all of the good things that MWTs books: intricate plotting (both kinds), meaningful issues of responsibility/government/personal desires, good characters, good stupid characters, wonderful intervention of religion, interesting narrative issues...and lots of fodder for classics geekery, of course!
I want to talk about gaps. Since The Thief, we are used to information that is concealed and to narrators who don't tell everything. The internal narrator is like the author: Gen (and, in this book, Sophos) withholds important pieces of the story as he tells it. It's how an author creates suspense; it's how a narrator creates suspense? Is Gen suspending us (not by our thumbs, we hope)? In fact, the end of The Thief tells us that he isn't. We find out that we have been reading the account that Eugenides wrote of his adventures. It is an account that will be read by people who know it was written by Eugenides the Thief of Eddis (and the King of Attolia), who know that Eugenides stole Hamiathes's Gift and presented it to the Queen of Eddis, who know who Sophos is...one might say that the "truest" reading of The Thief will happen when the entire series has been written and read.
(I reread The Thief last night; I was struck by how well it foreshadows details of the later books. Of course it does, you say -- the author wrote them later, wrote them to be foreshadowed by the earlier book. But when did Eugenides write that account? Did he know that his hand would be cut off and that he would become annux over Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia? Can you read it not knowing that, now? (I tell people that they should read the series in order; Megan Whalen Turner points out on her website that reading them in order will spoil The King of Attolia. In what order did Costis 'read' Eugenides's story?)
But I was talking about gaps. In A Conspiracy of Kings there are lots of significant spaces. The author doesn't tell us what Eugenides and Sophos discuss in the wineshop, of course she doesn't. If we were told then, we wouldn't be surprised as it unfolded. Of course she doesn't make us privy to the explanations that Eddis gives to Sophos at the end: to do so would be redundant, since we, in our fourth book of the story and well-versed in the characters of Attolis and his queen, already know the things that Sounis has to be told. (May I digress here to remark that I love the play with title and addresses? There is a person/ruler divide that becomes more prominently problematic in each book; MWT has been playing with it all along, and, since forms of address are probably my favorite thing ever, it makes me so happy!) At the same time, it cuts us the readers out of so much: we're left to have to put a lot of things together, to do a lot of interpretation of character, to get beyond the appearance to see what these rulers are doing and what is at stake.
But there is also the entire romance of Eddis and Sophos, which has been happening untold throughout the past several books, and which suddenly appears now in all of its not quite maturity. It's the "we were penpals and now we're actually meeting again and where does the fantasy meet the reality?" gap. It's the "I've been running my country and you've been doing what, exactly?" gap. The gap in Sophos's political life that he spent presumed dead and enslaved. The gap between ideals and reality, between Sophos's memory of Gen and -- this goes two directions -- the reality of Attolis and the reality of Zecush the slave. (The moment where Sophos realizes that he has been beaten like a slave and that he doesn't have pride to be wounded was hugely significant and lovely.) And the gap between what Sophos thinks he realizes, when he has learned something, and what is actually happening. The most significant space: Eddis's silence.
"I began my second captivity. Sophos says. The first captivity was the one in disguise, the one where Sophos wasn't in control of his circumstances, the one where he could compare his sojourn in obscurity with The Thief and decide that he was lacking. The second one is the one with a plan behind it; it's a narrative that imitates The Thief; it's the one where Sophos, as he tells it, sees himself imitating Gen and achieving his trickiness and brilliant plotting. And he does and he doesn't. It's not his plan and it isn't his autonomy. (The King Attolia needs a strong ruler under him in Sounis: someone who will keep fractious barons in line and make them provide the
soldiers and the resources he needs. Eddis needs a stable Sounis where she can resettle her population. Practicality of getting the kingdom aside, they need a king there who will not compromise with his barons in supporting their interests. And so they get one. Sophos gets, along the way, a lesson in realpolitik and a lesson in why Attolis is a preferable master to the Mede; these may be side benefits.)
Sophos is so concerned with his autonomy. He decides to act and not to be a slave, and it becomes an obsession. Being recognized as a person, pulling off a plot à la Eugenides. But if slavery is losing one's will over one's body, rulership -- and this is the great moral of these books -- is losing one's will over one's intentions and thoughts. (It is significant, I think, that Eugenides is maimed before he becomes king; it's then clear in the later books that he maintains his autonomy (and his sanity) by his attitude toward his body (opulent clothing, whining, complaining, slouching in the chair). Sophos thinks that he's offended Eddis by encroaching on her personal autonomy when he thought he was fighting for her political autonomy. And that misses the point: they are none of them autonomous. That is the lesson of the library. (It's an interesting lesson, a very classical novel in its treatment of slavery.)
But I've been digressing a lot. What I like so much about this series is how much it prompts one to think about narratives. In The King of Attolia, Eugenides interrupts Phresine's story to say that he wanted a story with "a happy ending." And the story does, in the end, have a a happy ending? Coincidence? Or perhaps it's just a good idea to give the king a happy ending when he demands one. A Conspiracy of Kings does so many interesting things with narratives: the difference between the author's narration to us and Sophos' narration to Eddis is apparent (Sophos is simpler and more paratactic). The difference between Sophos' second narration and The Thief is also instructive: Sophos is obviously imitating the "unreliable" narrative of The Thief, but he doesn't do it quite as skillfully as Eugenides did. True, that his narration is private (to Eddis) rather than public (the book that Eugenides wrote and which may or may not have made its way to Sophos, as we learn), the terms of the omitted information are different. Sophos doesn't tell Eddis what she already knows; but Eugenides's readers also would know everything that would make the story enjoyably recognizable. Keep on learning from your annux, Sophos!
