A healthy dose of grimdark—but how dark is too dark?
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| Gwynne, John. Ruin. Orbit, 2015. |
Everybody knows that Empire Strikes Back is the best of the
original Star Wars trilogy—and that’s because, among other reasons, it’s the
darkest installment. For the first time, we see the heroes defeated, and even
powerless. We witness the price they must pay, and you have to hand it to the filmmakers (see what I
did there?): the darker tone really pays off.
In a way, the same situation applies to John Gwynne’s
grimdark series about our intrepid heroes Corban and company; the first book,
while ominous in tone, was really more about setting the stage for the bad
stuff about to happen, while the second book continued that theme, only getting
really dark at the very end. With the grim stage well and truly set, we readers
knew to expect some serious grimdarkitude, and boy, does Gwynne deliver!
Without spoiling the many wrenching surprises, suffice it to
say that there’s death, heartbreak, betrayal and seeming defeat aplenty. For
some reason, I was convinced this new series was a trilogy, so I was actually
expecting some sort of ‘victory’ for the good guys, but as I read on, by
three-quarters through the book I had realized my mistake: it was obvious this
was the Empire Strikes Back equivalent, and Luke, so to speak, was definitely going to be losing his
metaphorical hand.
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| I know how Luke feels now, after yet another main(ish) character met a grisly end in the grim war of attrition in Ruin. |
This brings me to the only substantial criticism of the
book: can a book be too (grim)dark? Ruin
is certainly a candidate for “beyond darkest night” dark; pretty much the only
ray of light in this ocean of bad news for Corban and co. is that good
guy-to-be Veradis might finally be getting ready to take a hard look at the two
Bright Star-wannabes, and realize his enduring error from books one thru two.
At what point does a story become so grim the grimitude starts detracting from
the pleasure of following the characters on their journey? It didn’t quite
cross the line for me—yet—but I was so bummed out when I reached the end of the
book, I almost wanted to listen to 90s pop music, finally answering the riddle
Cusack uttered in High Fidelity, “am
I sad because I’m listening to pop music, or am I listening to it because I’m
sad?” (the answer, it seems, is the latter).
So my word of totally unsolicited advice to Gwynne is this: how
about you lighten up a bit, and have mercy on your readers! We all like Corban,
Cywen, et al, and it sucks to see them fighting this relentless war of
attrition, in which the casualties are mounting alarmingly quickly. On the
other hand, you’ve done what few authors can: succeeded in awakening an actual
glimmer of doubt that “the good guys will win in the end”! If that was your
plan all along, well done…though considering the toll among the main characters
to break down my Hollywood-esque assurance that the good guys will save the
day, I’m not sure the reward (a scared, uncertain reader) is worth the price in
main characters’ agony!
The Math:
Objective assessment: 7/10
Bonuses: +1 for finally allowing Veradis to see what’s what
(more or less)
Penalties: -1 for serious, depression-causing grimitude
Nerd coefficient: 7/10 “An enjoyable if almost shockingly grim experience to read”
Warning by Zhaoyun the Surgeon-General of Books*, who has been
reviewing books here at Nerds of a Feather for their potential debilitating
effects on readers since 2013: reading this book may shake your faith in the
ability of the good guys to prevail.
* Note that Zhaoyun is not, in fact, the Surgeon-General,
nor a surgeon, nor a general.
