Prince of Thorns: Book Review

There are some parts of this author's work that I envy. (Just putting that on the table; I’ll always say so when it’s true.) I've read several of his short stories and poems, which have gone beneath the surface and entertained, inspired, and lingered. However, Prince of Thorns was oddly not among those works! This is no insult; it's highly readable and, like a ten car pileup, hard to look away from, but it did seem a slightly different turn from a few darker more meaningful fantasy works I've read. As the author's major publishing debut it offered me a different door into his creativity and the genre market in general, and as an aspiring writer, of course, I sprinted through it.

The cover had me thinking the book was a bit different than what it turned out to be--a strictly sword and sorcery affair rooted in a dark age, medieval times, perhaps, because there are about thirty medieval-looking swords on the cover. But there's a twist: A post-apocalyptic twist. The story apparently takes place after the world has been hit with weapons of mass destruction.

The lesson then is: don't judge a book by its cover. On the cover the prince's stance is a la David and Goliath, yet darker--a warrior victorious over many kills. And it's a stunning image, invoking thoughts of hard-fought battles, triumph, change. But it made me wonder--if a society, post-apocalyptic as this one, once knew how to make missiles and guns, then why does said society revert to using swords? If swords and cross-bows can be smithed, why can't guns?

What further confused me about this element of the story, was why, after the apocalypse, would the remaining people of a society revert to archaic lifestyles--the speech, the dress? I would think, given the many post-apocalyptic theories/films/books out there, that once humanity had been decimated, time would stop rather than revert. I'm thinking of Bethesda’s Fallout 3 (yeah, I’m a game junkie and that one was particularly fun) where the apocalypse happened somewhere between 1920-1950-something, and trends were dictated by the height of technology at the time of its downfall: People still listened to the same music, scavenged for and clung to their guns, computers, appliances, etc. And once the Rapture was over, there wasn't a religious person left on the planet.

It seems that what the author has done here is revert society back to the dark ages, pre-Renaissance and sans Humanism, instead of showing the way society was at the time of the apocalypse, which is actually a long-running theory about humanity’s “true” progression depending on which anthropological theorist you subscribe to. But it just doesn’t sit well. The overall ambience, after the point in the story when I realized it was post-apocalyptic, changed for me. I felt splashed cold with this element. This doesn't detract from the author's talent, though. As a writer, you learn to hold things up to the light and look at them critically, to look through them to find how they work. As a reader, you just go with the author's flow, and if they're talented, as this author undeniably is, then you enjoy the ride.

The writing is worthwhile: A blend of fantasy trope and voice-driven literary fiction. Every sentence is taut, Jorg's observations fiercely confident. Many passages hearken to the author's earlier poems. If, by chance, you're an aspiring poet, join his Yahoo! poetry group, be kind to some folks who want their poetry read. Just don't download any files. :) If you can find them, read the author's poems. Search them out online. For analytical types they provide an excellent context for his prose.

While the story might appeal more to the male sect, given its packaging, it's a universally blasphemous fun read in the vein of "A Clockwork Orange" that for many moments had me rooting for vengeance. What compelled me to finish Jorg's story was a strong empathy for him; hope, perhaps, that vengeance against everyone who crossed him wasn't all there was to his legacy. Mostly, it wasn't. Impressive moments range between the socially and the emotionally relevant: Love is felt by Jorg in the poetical form of hooks sinking into his heart; it absolutely affects pain in him, and this is conveyed with the kind of coarse beauty one would expect from a tortured soul. Poignant philosophies and brilliant sarcasm are scattered little gems all the way to the end. But strangely, this is all conveyed through a fifteen-year-old boy, which does feel partly cliché (hormonal teenage angst in effect) and highly improbable (c'mon, no matter what he's seen, he's still just. . . a kid).

Never mind the genre. Genres are utterly confining and you will skip over things you should have read because you discriminated against the genre or you paid too much attention to reviews. I say the same for music, shows, or movies. Judge for yourself, possibly be surprised by this ambiguous character as author Mark Lawrence blurs the lines between lovable and detestable, noble and evil, retribution and vengeance.