Book Review: Temple of the Winds
In order of release, this is fourth volume of The Sword of Truth. In order of story events, it's sixth. Regardless, it's my first taste of author Terry Goodkind. I have no idea of the volumes' relative popularity; I just wanted to check out some part of the tremendous series, which I must have learned about from a list of recommended fantasy novels.
Clearly a lot happened in the previous books, especially if they're all close to this one's 822 pages. Much of it gets touched on herein, with enough explanation that I never felt lost. Alas, since there had been apparently surprising twists, in order not to spoil the earlier volumes for anyone who wants to read them, I'd better put plot and character details behind a cut.
Richard has ascended from a humble background to a kingship in all but name, thanks to his rare congenital magic and heroism. He now anticipates a marriage to Kahlan, who's something of a warrior priestess and already like a queen. But enemy Emperor Jagang forces them to put their plans on hold with a dangerous couple of emissaries, setting a horrible plague in motion -- and warning that it can be stopped only at great cost to Richard, implying that Jagang wins either way. It's quite a while before the heroes understand precisely what to do. It involves a ritual to access the titular temple, magically sealed away for a good reason.
Despite the seeming stardom of Richard, Kahlan spends more time as a focal character. In fact, while he wields the Sword of Truth (which won't hurt anyone the wielder doesn't believe deserves it), she gets more moments of violent action than he does. I doubt whether this was the case in previous volumes.
Richard and Kahlan are rarely far from one of their female bodyguards, collectively called the Mord-Sith. A previous ruler had the Mord-Sith trained from childhood to be expert torturers and assassins, but if they were instilled with one virtue, it was loyalty to their lord, and that lord is now Richard. He's been helping them find their humanity again. The one Mord-Sith who gets the most attention herein is Cara, probably Kahlan's best friend. Cara's dialog best helps us understand their mindset.
Conveniently before the plague sets in, two healers unexpectedly arrive at the palace. Unfortunately, they can do little against the plague, and neither of them is very welcome for anything other than healing. One, Nadine, is Richard's ex-semi-girlfriend from his country bumpkin days, having no idea what he's been up to since. She came to marry him at the advice of Shota the witch, who has been opposed to the pairing of Richard and Kahlan for some time, for reasons they will find out. We feel a little pity for Nadine with her rude awakening, but when she doesn't give up, she squanders that pity. The other healer is Drefan, who has his own connection to Richard even if they never met before. Kahlan is never sure what to make of him: a comely saint with limited social skills or a deceptive pervert?
Meanwhile, allegedly mad but clever prophet Nathan has escaped his captors, the Sisters of the Light, in order to deal with Jagang his own way. He enlists the help of focal character Clarissa, survivor of an attacked village, who falls in love with him. Sister Ann forces wizard Zedd, Richard's grandpa, to follow Nathan's trail with her, but their run-ins with primitive tribes keep them a good distance away.
The one other focal character stands out for never thinking of his own name, if the third-person limited narration is any indication. He is a serial killer, targeting prostitutes as if they were the worst people in the world, hypocritically ignoring his own enjoyment of it and overestimating theirs. To quote the photographer from Apocalypse Now, "The man is clear in his mind, but his soul is mad." He's skilled at pretty much everything he does, so only late in the book does anyone, including the reader, learn who he is. Kudos to Goodkind for making me dismiss my early correct suspicion, tho I'd kinda hoped I was wrong.
But I'd say that guy still isn't as warped as Jagang, who uses "dreamwalking" to exert even more control over people than a normal emperor (not mind control exactly, just telepathy plus torment for disobedience). He insists that it is only right for the strong to rule the weak, universally. So why does he plan to rid the world of magic once he's made enough use of it? We could almost get behind the latter agenda in light of the trouble wizards can cause, but he's a purer brand of evil than I've ever found outside of fantasy. He's also not wise enough to realize that the plague, if unstopped, would come back to bite him.
While this is a pseudo-medieval high fantasy, there aren't many fantasy creatures, only a nearly robotic former human and a briefly appearing race so humanoid that I wonder why Goodkind bothered. Like in my last read, most of the individual names are plain English. The main fantastic aspects are interestingly composed sorcery and, in large measure, prophecy. There's an overarching theme of prophecy being way too dangerous. It does help the novel's suspense that it looks like the heroes, regardless of their past awesome victories, couldn't possibly succeed this time. Would Goodkind go that far?
I notice that characters don't speak of "God," only "the Creator," "the spirits," and "the Keeper" (somewhere between Death and the Devil). That's probably because Goodkind doesn't want us predisposed to see their Creator in a Judeo-Christian way. They seem to see him as less than omnipotent, with wicked spirits -- including that of a prior main villain -- wielding just as much influence and suffering no eternal punishment in proportion. That would explain the inevitable dark paths. Heck, if the ironically named Goodkind himself is their Creator for all intents and purposes...
Another recurring theme is personal dichotomies. Those capable of great good are also capable of great evil. Those who know well how to harm could know well how to heal. And vice versa.
Incidentally, the main heroes, however messianic, are hardly angelic. They may learn the value of forgiveness, but they have little use for mercy. Seems a cultural thing. Only the existence of unbelievably horrible villains can begin to excuse their methods at times. (I read a moment ago that Goodkind is an Objectivist. That figures.)
If literature had MPAA-style ratings, this book would have a solid R, less kid-friendly than any other fantasy I've read. Putting aside the body count from illness, it gets pretty graphic in both violence and sex -- which go together all too often. Oh, we don't "see" any rapes, but more than half the female characters we know of have been subjected to unwanted intercourse in the past or "present." What a shame: All the female presence early on had given me the impression that Goodkind would write the kind of story many women would like.
Not that the bulk of the male characters have a great time of it either. Most chapters lean heavy on slow-paced agony in some form or another, leading me to marvel that I finished the book. How badly do I want to read about heroes doing things they reeeeeeally don't want to do? There isn't much comic relief either, tho Zedd's quirkiness
I might as well assure you that it doesn't end like Shadowmarch or Shadowplay. While things probably worked out better overall for the biggest bad guy than for the good guys, it ends on a rather upbeat note. Goodkind did not let me down on that score.
Part of me wished to have started at the beginning of the series and possibly read right up to this point. Another suspected that the earlier volumes were relatively hackneyed, from what I know of them. Still, they almost certainly had more for the Sword of Truth to do. This curiosity might get me to pick up the next in the series from my shelf, but not any time soon; I need a break.
So what am I starting now? Keith Laumer's Last Stand. That too is the fourth book in its series, specifically that of the Bolos. I don't know that it'll be uplifting, but the summary reads like an inversion of the Berserker series, so it's worth a shot. Plus, a collection of short stories can always be put aside as needed (like I ever do that).
Clearly a lot happened in the previous books, especially if they're all close to this one's 822 pages. Much of it gets touched on herein, with enough explanation that I never felt lost. Alas, since there had been apparently surprising twists, in order not to spoil the earlier volumes for anyone who wants to read them, I'd better put plot and character details behind a cut.
Richard has ascended from a humble background to a kingship in all but name, thanks to his rare congenital magic and heroism. He now anticipates a marriage to Kahlan, who's something of a warrior priestess and already like a queen. But enemy Emperor Jagang forces them to put their plans on hold with a dangerous couple of emissaries, setting a horrible plague in motion -- and warning that it can be stopped only at great cost to Richard, implying that Jagang wins either way. It's quite a while before the heroes understand precisely what to do. It involves a ritual to access the titular temple, magically sealed away for a good reason.
Despite the seeming stardom of Richard, Kahlan spends more time as a focal character. In fact, while he wields the Sword of Truth (which won't hurt anyone the wielder doesn't believe deserves it), she gets more moments of violent action than he does. I doubt whether this was the case in previous volumes.
Richard and Kahlan are rarely far from one of their female bodyguards, collectively called the Mord-Sith. A previous ruler had the Mord-Sith trained from childhood to be expert torturers and assassins, but if they were instilled with one virtue, it was loyalty to their lord, and that lord is now Richard. He's been helping them find their humanity again. The one Mord-Sith who gets the most attention herein is Cara, probably Kahlan's best friend. Cara's dialog best helps us understand their mindset.
Conveniently before the plague sets in, two healers unexpectedly arrive at the palace. Unfortunately, they can do little against the plague, and neither of them is very welcome for anything other than healing. One, Nadine, is Richard's ex-semi-girlfriend from his country bumpkin days, having no idea what he's been up to since. She came to marry him at the advice of Shota the witch, who has been opposed to the pairing of Richard and Kahlan for some time, for reasons they will find out. We feel a little pity for Nadine with her rude awakening, but when she doesn't give up, she squanders that pity. The other healer is Drefan, who has his own connection to Richard even if they never met before. Kahlan is never sure what to make of him: a comely saint with limited social skills or a deceptive pervert?
Meanwhile, allegedly mad but clever prophet Nathan has escaped his captors, the Sisters of the Light, in order to deal with Jagang his own way. He enlists the help of focal character Clarissa, survivor of an attacked village, who falls in love with him. Sister Ann forces wizard Zedd, Richard's grandpa, to follow Nathan's trail with her, but their run-ins with primitive tribes keep them a good distance away.
The one other focal character stands out for never thinking of his own name, if the third-person limited narration is any indication. He is a serial killer, targeting prostitutes as if they were the worst people in the world, hypocritically ignoring his own enjoyment of it and overestimating theirs. To quote the photographer from Apocalypse Now, "The man is clear in his mind, but his soul is mad." He's skilled at pretty much everything he does, so only late in the book does anyone, including the reader, learn who he is. Kudos to Goodkind for making me dismiss my early correct suspicion, tho I'd kinda hoped I was wrong.
But I'd say that guy still isn't as warped as Jagang, who uses "dreamwalking" to exert even more control over people than a normal emperor (not mind control exactly, just telepathy plus torment for disobedience). He insists that it is only right for the strong to rule the weak, universally. So why does he plan to rid the world of magic once he's made enough use of it? We could almost get behind the latter agenda in light of the trouble wizards can cause, but he's a purer brand of evil than I've ever found outside of fantasy. He's also not wise enough to realize that the plague, if unstopped, would come back to bite him.
While this is a pseudo-medieval high fantasy, there aren't many fantasy creatures, only a nearly robotic former human and a briefly appearing race so humanoid that I wonder why Goodkind bothered. Like in my last read, most of the individual names are plain English. The main fantastic aspects are interestingly composed sorcery and, in large measure, prophecy. There's an overarching theme of prophecy being way too dangerous. It does help the novel's suspense that it looks like the heroes, regardless of their past awesome victories, couldn't possibly succeed this time. Would Goodkind go that far?
I notice that characters don't speak of "God," only "the Creator," "the spirits," and "the Keeper" (somewhere between Death and the Devil). That's probably because Goodkind doesn't want us predisposed to see their Creator in a Judeo-Christian way. They seem to see him as less than omnipotent, with wicked spirits -- including that of a prior main villain -- wielding just as much influence and suffering no eternal punishment in proportion. That would explain the inevitable dark paths. Heck, if the ironically named Goodkind himself is their Creator for all intents and purposes...
Another recurring theme is personal dichotomies. Those capable of great good are also capable of great evil. Those who know well how to harm could know well how to heal. And vice versa.
Incidentally, the main heroes, however messianic, are hardly angelic. They may learn the value of forgiveness, but they have little use for mercy. Seems a cultural thing. Only the existence of unbelievably horrible villains can begin to excuse their methods at times. (I read a moment ago that Goodkind is an Objectivist. That figures.)
If literature had MPAA-style ratings, this book would have a solid R, less kid-friendly than any other fantasy I've read. Putting aside the body count from illness, it gets pretty graphic in both violence and sex -- which go together all too often. Oh, we don't "see" any rapes, but more than half the female characters we know of have been subjected to unwanted intercourse in the past or "present." What a shame: All the female presence early on had given me the impression that Goodkind would write the kind of story many women would like.
Not that the bulk of the male characters have a great time of it either. Most chapters lean heavy on slow-paced agony in some form or another, leading me to marvel that I finished the book. How badly do I want to read about heroes doing things they reeeeeeally don't want to do? There isn't much comic relief either, tho Zedd's quirkiness
I might as well assure you that it doesn't end like Shadowmarch or Shadowplay. While things probably worked out better overall for the biggest bad guy than for the good guys, it ends on a rather upbeat note. Goodkind did not let me down on that score.
Part of me wished to have started at the beginning of the series and possibly read right up to this point. Another suspected that the earlier volumes were relatively hackneyed, from what I know of them. Still, they almost certainly had more for the Sword of Truth to do. This curiosity might get me to pick up the next in the series from my shelf, but not any time soon; I need a break.
So what am I starting now? Keith Laumer's Last Stand. That too is the fourth book in its series, specifically that of the Bolos. I don't know that it'll be uplifting, but the summary reads like an inversion of the Berserker series, so it's worth a shot. Plus, a collection of short stories can always be put aside as needed (like I ever do that).