The Iron Khan by Liz Williams

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The Iron Khan by Liz Williams (Morrigan Books, 2010) is the fifth Detective Inspector Chan novel featuring the ever-expanding cast list from the previous novels plus a new villain, the eponymous Khan, who’s working his way up through the ranks of time to become the leader of as many different armies as he can conscript. This is quite an ingenious idea as the Khan wheels and deals his way through different times and dimensions, negotiating with local leaders or simply acquiring troops as he goes along. It’s not so much that he’s immortal. Rather that he’s managed to develop the power of drawing on the local magic to renew himself. Not surprisingly, his social reputation suffers as this includes a sadistic delight in sucking the life out of those he captures, which makes him a kind of vampire, but not the traditional blood-sucking variety.

So off we go with Inspector Chen himself summoned to Heaven to investigate the loss of an important book, while Zhu Irzh and Jhai fly off on a business and pleasure trip to look at the site of a new chemical plant. This leaves Inari and the familiar badger in the capable hands of Miss Qi, a Celestial warrior, as a blast from the past lands them in the Sea of Night rather closer than they would like to the ship on which the Empress of Heaven has been confined (supposedly for everyone’s safety). To make life more exciting, we have some very old mummies come back to life (only one of which survives), meet a ghost or two, watch a Japanese warrior come into his own, and find an old explorer to offer advice and assistance when the going gets tough. It all gets mixed together with considerable style (although I do confess to losing the badger at one point) as the Empress tries to recapture the power she once enjoyed and the Khan moves steadily forward in time until he arrives in Singapore 3 (after it gets put back where we expect it to be, of course). To find out why the Earth (although not the air) goes through several different versions, you’ll have to read this book.

Liz Williams looking a little fuzzy round the edges

Interestingly, we’re adding ever more different sets of belief systems and their respective Heavens and Hells. The entire Earth is a literal mosaic of different overlapping dimensions (none of which are supposed to fold together although they can co-exist side-by-side — linking people together so they can travel separately but together is not very logical since there’s no guarantee transport of equal speed would be available in each dimension). And that’s not forgetting the Between through which knowledgeable people can sneak or entire populations can escape to at a push. Then we have the little warrior en ventre sa mere who seems to be making an impression on everyone when the situation requires it. So it’s a busy universe.

One of the less pleasing changes has been the tone. When we started off on the Inspector Chen series, the feel of the prose was more formal and there was a general crispness about the entire enterprise. The Iron Khan has a more diffuse, slightly chatty style in which Liz Williams seems to be more directly narrating the story than acting as a dispassionate author. There’s also a slightly more free-wheeling approach to the plot development. Although everything does hang together quite neatly, I’m not wholly convinced the Khan emerges as a really credible threat. He’s left rather more in the shadow without us getting a clear look at him, while the Empress comes from the other side as a known quantity, but equally doesn’t really seem fully realised as dangerous. She lurks and only manages a little magic until her major effort at the end.

Then comes the very strange epilogue or separate short story titled The Lesson in which we see something of Chen’s early life as he goes through some weird kind of therapy to remember something important about his past. My confusion comes from the copyright reservation which is only for The Iron Khan. An additional short story is usually the subject of a separate assertion of authorial rights, but I struggle to see this as adding anything to the broader narrative of the novel. Finally, a general comment about the typesetting. We have a depressing number of widows and orphans, and in many instances, the kerning and tracking is terrible. I understand it takes a little longer to produce pagination that’s aesthetically pleasing, but it’s worth the effort. If a publisher is going to produce text with perfect justification, a little more thought should go into the typesetting. Then, we have the extraordinary appearance of hyphenation in The Lesson. Quite simply, this is wholly unprofessional.

So, ignoring the physical production problems, this is not one of the best Chen novels. If you’re going to do “good” vs “evil”, the “evil” should be better defined and the prose style should be more formal. The chatty tone is not quite right for the subject matter. Nevertheless The Iron Khan is an enjoyable romp as well-liked characters go through their paces. Since, at one point, it was doubtful this novel would ever see the light of day, it’s reassuring Liz Williams has negotiated the difficulties and emerged with a new book to her name. What’s scheduled to be the final Inspector Chen book for now is called Morningstar and is due at the end of 2011. I shall acquire it to see where the story goes next.

Stephanie Pui-Mun Law

The jacket artwork by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law is particularly pleasing.

For other reviews of books by Liz Williams, see: A Glass of Shadow, Precious Dragon, Shadow Pavilion, Winterstrike and Worldsoul.

Shadow Pavilion by Liz Williams

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This is the fourth outing in the Detective Inspector Chen series by Liz Williams following on Precious Dragon, and it sees the continuation of a trend to flatten the narrative. When we began this series, it was fairly well centred on the eponymous hero. Now, even his wife’s familiar gets a separate POV thread. Not that I’m complaining, of course. I’m all for equal opportunities among characters representing different deities, demons, species, races, religions and points of origin (Earth, Heavens, Hells and now Between). But we should, perhaps, stop calling these books “Chen” novels and come up with something more appropriate: the “Singapore Three Novels” is a little boring; “Celestial Omnibus” is already taken (an interesting short story by E. M. Forster) and Heaven is, by definition, not for all; “Heavenly Magic” excludes the demons. I’m open to your suggestions.

Anyway, here we have the direct continuation of the story from Precious Dragon with Mhara’s accession as Celestial Emperor triggering an assassination plot from his Conservative mother, i.e. she prefers to keep the status quo in Heaven rather than see it change into a form of hippie commune bent on helping deserving cases on Earth. I mean, who does this young upstart think he is? Coming into office with his head full of nonsense about Heaven actually having a role to play in guiding humans and ensuring they stand the best chance of getting into Heaven. Way over the top! Heaven and Hell should never interfere in humans’ lives. Candidates for the afterlife should live their own lives, make their own mistakes, and live with the consequences after death. So since she believes passivity is best, she hires an unstoppable assassin to kill her son, the new Emperor. You just can’t get more passive than that!

In other threads, we have a double diversification to slot into our “world view”. It seems there are multiple Heavens and Hells, each pairing based on its own religious precepts. In theory, there should be no direct movement “between” the different “places” but, of course, those with the right powers can slip from one to the other (often by passing through the human world). The second new element in the story is the “discovery” of the “Between”. This is a middle ground representing, as it were, the cracks “between” all the different places and those with the right power can use it as a kind of dimensional door for more direct access from one place to another. Our invincible assassin, Seijin, lives in the Between and draws on its power to preserve and enhance “their” life (don’t ask, it’s complicated) in the titular Shadow Pavilion.

As to the rest of the plot lines, we have a better view of Chen and his demon wife Inari (not forgetting her familiar). Zhu Irzh and Jhai move closer to a possible marriage, and Mhara and Robin manage to maintain their relationship despite his new role as the Celestial Emperor. Put all this together and the novel bowls along at a good pace with the introduction of the assassin especially pleasing. As always, Williams’ prose is engaging and gives us just enough to flesh out the bare bones of narrative. As technical aside, there is a slight sloppiness to the typesetting with a surprising number of widows and orphans, sometimes with single lines left hanging at the end of chapters. I know I’m old-fashioned but, when it’s so easy to avoid, why not avoid this unsightliness?

My only caveat is the ending. The resolution of Jhai’s thread is completely perfunctory and unsatisfying. It’s as if the author, not sure whether to kill Jhai off to temper Zhu Irzh in the resulting emotional fires, tossed a coin and, in the next sentence, declared her safe. While Inari’s accommodation with Sei Lan is distinctly disconcerting — hopefully this element will be further explored and explained in the next novel in the cycle titled The Iron Khan. Overall, this is the least “detective” oriented book with no real crime to be solved but, as a continuation of the series it works well and, at times, it’s highly enjoyable. Not unnaturally, I have already ordered the next.

For other reviews of books by Liz Williams, see Winterstrike, The Iron Khan, Worldsoul and A Glass of Shadow.

This is one of the books published by Night Shade Books. As a matter of principle, all serious readers should support small presses by buying direct or through independent bookstores and dealers. However, the SFWA has now placed this publisher on probation (see this Note). Perhaps you should reconsider your support for this small press.

Precious Dragon by Liz Williams

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Sometimes, I write coherent sentences consecutively. Letters of complaint should be directed to my English teacher (except he’s probably dead by now — yes, I am that old).

He was a rugby-playing bear of a man with an iconoclastic streak who, on occasion, would enliven Monday morning lessons with a blow-by-blow account of the weekend’s match followed, more significantly, by a colourful version of the evening’s subsequent entertainment. As a “rugby player” archetype, he loved his beer, claimed never to feel fear and was always willing to succumb to the charms of willing daughters and discreet wives. Hence, my vocabulary was enriched from an early age. Among the many stories I recall was a Saturday when his team had won too easily. Bored, all the players and their supporters decided to invade the Fish Quay.

At the time, I lived in one of the satellite villages that lurked in the penumbra of a sprawling city of quite startling contrasts. Some areas were bastions of high wealth and privilege. Others were as close to Hell as you could get without having to go through the formality of dying. The targeted Fish Quay was the stuff of legend. Whenever the Arctic released another ice storm into the wild, all the fishing fleets from the Norwegian Sea and, sometimes, the Barents Sea, would run ahead of the weather front. The prudent steered for the nearest ports. The die-hards let the storm blow them the extra miles to us. Their drifters, old lorry tyres lashed to gunnels to reduce the splintering, were jam-packed together in the sheltered moorings and immediately unloaded. Such fish as they had in their holds was sold to raise cash, leaving the crews to drink round the clock until it was safe enough to go back out again (or the money ran out). Add in the Saturday night drinkers and you had a combustible mix every time the glass fell.

But the arrival of two well-oiled rugby teams that winter night provoked a free-ranging mêlée that crossed national, linguistic and cultural boundaries and wrote itself into the myths of the area for years to come. All it needed was the local magistrates to read the Act for it to be an official riot except, of course, all the law enforcement officials were wisely elsewhere occupied. The ambulance crews lucky enough to be on duty simply stood by and collected the bodies when the fighting died down. The walking wounded resumed their friendships and consumption of alcohol, and later made their own way to boats or homes to sleep it off. Those were the days.

Which brings me to Precious Dragon by Liz Williams (Night Shade Books. 2007) — the third Inspector Chen novel set in the melting pot that is Singapore Three. In a future affected by global warming, Singapore will franchise versions of itself to other countries as a well-managed city environment. All goes well with the first two new cities, but the third is sited where the dimensional boundaries between the local Taoist Heaven and Hell prove to be thin. So the human city has to deal with the reality of the various supernatural factions interfering in everyone else’s affairs. Naturally, like any really good golf club, Heaven feels that its exclusiveness is being undermined by the need to accept an increasing number of more common souls. While Hell is always formulating dastardly plots to bring everyone else down to their level.

In this latest attempt to keep order between the feuding Celestials and the denizens of Hell, the all-too-human Inspector Chen and his demon colleague Zhu Irzh (recently promoted to Earth from Hell’s Vice Squad) are teamed with Mi Li Qi, a warrior from the Heavenly Host — there’s a new Equal Opportunities Policy in force. Now think about it. If you were supposed to be enforcing law between feuding gods and demon lords, would you go down to the Fish Quay if a fight broke out? Well, sadly, the three have no say in the matter. They are simply pitched in and expected to survive.

Structurally, we have a multiple point-of-view approach, with short chapters chopping between the main characters until everything winds together in the big climax. There are one or two slight problems of continuity in the early stages and the sequence inside the Ministry of Lust lacks some logic, but the overall narrative development is well-managed and pacey. This is aided by the uncluttered prose. When writing more “traditional” fantasy, Williams can be baroque (as in some of the short stories in the pleasing collection The Banquet of the Lords of Night), but the Chen series is stylistically economical and does just enough to create atmosphere and then moves the plot along.

The books are not so much “comic fantasy” as fantasy told with a wry sense of humour. Thus, the rhythms of life (or after-death existence for those who have shuffled off the mortal coil) are full of the same somewhat depressing mundanity no matter which realm the characters find themselves in. Sons are prone to be embarrassed by their mothers, grandmothers can be relied on to dandle a grandson on their knees and fiancées can sometimes make a welcome appearance. But when a storm of circumstances blows all into the lowest reaches of Hell, invaders from the local rugby club can find themselves witnesses to the fate of Emperors. Fortunately, ambulances are not much in demand as the majority of the combatants are already dead. And, when it’s all over, the walking wounded stagger off to their homes (old and new), no matter how distant.

For those interested in such things, it appears that the fourth book in the series, The Shadow Pavilion, due in 2009 may be about to go sideways into parallel underworld realms, probably starting with the Hindu. I’ve already ordered my copy. For those of you who haven’t tried the novels, read them in order. Although this latest volume does stand on its own quite well, the experience is enriched by knowing who everyone is and why they are where they are.

For other reviews of work by Liz Williams, see A Glass of Shadow, Winterstrike, The Iron Khan and Worldsoul.

This is one of the books published by Night Shade Books. As a matter of principle, all serious readers should support small presses by buying direct or through independent bookstores and dealers. However, the SFWA has now placed this publisher on probation (see this Note). Perhaps you should reconsider your support for this small press.