The Bodhisattva

AIO publishes quality books in more ways than one.  First as physical objects the books are gorgeous, classy, and standout. Second - in terms of the stories themselves - they are gorgeous, classy, and standout. There is no surprise that works by people like Ian R. MacLeod  (The Summer Isles) or Zoran Zivkovic (Seven Touches of Music) are top notch but the strength of some of the new writers they have taken on show a definite sensibility that turn the company pitch “books to stir the soul” into legitimate, apt, description.  One of these two books is The Steam Magnate by Dana Copithorne and is my subject of this week’s Forgotten Friday. For those who are first forgetting this week, Forgotten Fridays is a union of bloggers that I don’t know who each pick a book that they think has slipped though the cracks. For myself, I have added the extra stipulation (for purposes of degree of difficulty) that it isn’t such a book that I already regularly laud (like works by a Zivkovic, Lydia Millet, Steve Aylett, or a Richard Bowes etc) that are still for the most part hidden gems even if they are known by all who are cool and (super) smart. This feature is not a review but a mere brief pointer books that I think deserve some more looks often supported by words of other writers themselves or people that are indeed cooler or smarter (super-duper if you will) than I - a rather large club.

The description (that you can find at Amazon and such):

“Departing from formulaic themes involving quests, magicians, and mythical animals, this fantasy novel follows a character with powers more ordinary than most uber-wizards. Having inherited the steam-power legacy and the mysterious ability to funnel the assets of others into his own coffers through the mere use of ink and paper, Eson is hated by some and feared by others. While recovering from a disastrous relationship with a woman of his own magical kind, he meets a young woman who isn’t who she claims to be, and Eson must now defend himself against challenges far too close to home. Set in a world that is a tempting concoction of fairy-tale charm and everyday existence, this work explores the inequities of social class and the realities living among the less fortunate.”

In truth I found the book to more about the other “young woman” described in that summary but what I love about this book is that it’s this clearly fantastic setting that doesn’t at all have anything to do with an impending doom that is also overtly fantastic. There is no army at the gates, no great evil reawakened (hmmm…), there is no band that has to get together to do anything. Now before you think this sounds like its coming from somebody who isn’t aware of other works like this and to know I’m not typing this from a fine tavern in Varfleet, it’s also not some fever dream dalliance through the incomprehensible being called progressive, and experimental that citizens of the aforementioned city tend to dismiss (sometimes with good reasons -others due to simple lack of imaginative ambition). The setting where much of the novel takes place is the Broken Glass City, and in an interview is described by Copithorne:

“It is a place etched by many layers of history, and many cultures. The places within it are steeped in meaning and there are many unique works of architecture, such as a monument made of meteor shards, and a bank covered in sliding glass panels that describe economic flux. There are also small, simple places such as glass gardens, and deserted fountains that are used as shrines. A landmark in Jado’s community is a glass mosaic said to be a celestial calendar from ancient times.“

When reading a debut work there is that rather dreadful possibility of a reading experience we go through that we are experiencing  the writer going through the motions, a bit of on-the-job-training; and while it is of course unavoidable that a writer will learn from every novel - I do detest reading books that make me feel it should be an unpublished rough for future work (several traditional fantasies really fall into this for me as you can palpably feel a writer trying to search for that one nuance that makes their book ‘theirs’ (but, but…my elves are evil!) while everything else they use is essentially lifted material that they surround that element with - I’m reading such a debut now and it’s terribly aggravating. While a book is a journey for the reader and writer, there is something to be said for a writer that is able to at least suggest the feeling that they have already tread this path; looked it over, and set obstacles in your way at some points or hold your hand in others for effect and that it’s not a trip you feel like you are both taking the first time. We should never be equals no matter our own stature and it is this ability of a story to adapt to the level of its readers that I think in some way defines great writing. With that in mind, Copithorne has a complete book that was ready to be shared not just written. The Steam Magnate is a book not only about relationships but reactions to the fluidity of relationship and how we and others are able to exert influence and personal power through them. When this novels first came out I read a lot of opinion on it that almost universally seemed to be something to the affect of “literary, quaint, but flawed” and what I see is what I think Zivkovic says of it :

“exuberant narrative inventiveness, subtle style, and rich, profound characterization, you’d never guess it’s a debut novel.”

It has fantastic elements that are used to add weight to and display aspects like the power of contractual and paper agreements but also personality and will but what is magic is how Copithorne creates magic out of aspects like place and people while not examining but exercising social hierarchy and does with a pensive aura that gives the books dual identities at once you stare at allegory, parable and prosaic that all dance for a time as actual.

Previous Forgotten Fridays:

Dossier by Stepan Chapman

Black Brillion by Matthew Hughes

Pandora, by Holly Hollander by Gene Wolfe

Coelestis by Paul Park

Sarah Canary by  Karen Joy Fowler

Brittle Innings by Michael Bishop