Woke Fantasy and the Misplaced Epic

Robert Jackson Bennett, Foundryside

Sancia Grado, the best thief in Tevanne, has used her unique talents and magical trinkets to nab the biggest score of her career. Now she waits to get paid. But while her fence dithers, she starts handling the gewgaw she nicked… and it talks back to her. The story it tells, of imbued magic so powerful that it could cause civil war, gives Sancia second thoughts. So she hesitates just long enough for all four noble families to start chasing her.

Somewhere around page 50, I started to notice: this novel doesn't have many human characters. Not that author Bennett doesn't have people and dialog and action, but rather, that his people mostly obey the plot. Only the most important characters have internal motivations or thoughts or, mainly, names. Bennett mostly identifies them by physical traits, especially missing appendages or teeth. And they don't do anything; they mainly either oppose the protagonists, or dump information in their laps.

While Sancia worries what to do with Clef, the sentient key that might upend Tevanne civilization, Gregor Dandolo, Captain of the waterfront patrol, hunts her doggedly. Seems Sancia stole Clef from under Gregor’s protection, and if he can't recover it, his career, and the reforms he’s enacted, are finished. So he goes all John McClane on Tevanne’s underworld, wrathful to recover the missing artifact.

The John McClane reference isn't throwaway. While Sancia’s superhuman thieving skills resemble a Dungeons & Dragons character, Gregor resembles an American action-movie hero. He investigates the crime, solo and rogue, with a combination of pithy banter, detective skill, and well-placed violence. In his first meaningful scene, he single-handedly smashes five toughs and humiliates a crime boss in his own tavern-slash-brothel for information.

I suspect Bennett intended some insightful statement on contemporary society. Tevanne has become wildly rich with “scriving,” a magical technique that lets those who can afford it, automate the production of saleable handicrafts. But this booming economy mainly benefits the already rich. While the four noble houses live in gleaming palaces, most city residents sink further into squalor. Importantly, they blame themselves for their poverty.

Robert Jackson Bennett

So yeah, the symbolism is unsubtle. I like Bennett's message.

But having a good message doesn’t matter if the story doesn't keep readers engaged long enough to follow the thoughts to their conclusion. Instead, I got focused on Bennett’s writing choices. Like having only three characters—Sancia, Gregor, and Clef—who show even the slightest traces of introspection. When Sancia walks into rooms, and characters pour her some wine and start explaining the world to her, I can’t see the narrative through the authorial fingerprints.

Similarly, I keep trying to identify Bennett's sources. Between Sancia’s Ocean’s Eleven-ish thievery, Gregor’s hard-boiled Raymond Chandler investigative techniques, and Clef talking like Han Solo, Bennett's story resembles a massive Hollywood goulash. The voice doesn't match Bennett's pre-Renaissance setting. At first, Tevanne resembles early Venice. But then I realized where I’ve read this before: Camorr, the setting of Scott Lynch’s Gentlemen Bastards novels.

Bennett can't even keep details consistent. Sancia explains to Clef the elaborate, humiliating tortures Tevannian lawkeepers use on criminals. Then not five pages later, she explains how Tevanne doesn't actually have laws lest rules tread on noble house toes. Okay, minor issue. But after spending several chapters on Tevannian lawlessness (Gregor’s Water Watch notwithstanding), Gregor expresses outrage when city toughs use a “strictly outlawed” weapon.

The difference might reflect the gap between Sancia, born poor and streetside, and Gregor, scion of a noble house. But that explanation struck me only later. While reading, it felt merely sloppy, another sprawling inconsistency which neither the author nor the editor corrected. I slapped the book down, frustrated that Bennett couldn't keep something so basic straight.

Between the inconsistency, the transparent borrowing, and the characters busily explaining the world to one another, this novel reminded me of a first-semester undergraduate writing workshop. The author has an idea, but not the skills necessary to execute them. I understand that, of course. Everyone has to pay their dues. I was there once too.

Despite my bellyaching, I find plenty promising in Bennett's story. I like his politics, appreciate his protagonists, and see seeds worth nurturing. The book before me simply reads like an early draft of something that, with time, should’ve been much better. Time and feedback could've turned this into something with a fully developed ensemble, stronger sense of historicity, and fewer visible seams. This isn't a bad book; it just shipped when it still needed time to bake.