Back in 2003, when the world was young and we didn't have to worry about the economy and recycling and stuff, there came an author called R. Scott Bakker. The Darkness that Comes Before was quite hefty, and some of the character's names could give you a stroke if you tried to say them out loud, but other than that it was a bloody good read. It took the face of traditional epic fantasy and gave it a makeover. No longer did the reader have to suffer page after page of depthless D&D drivel. Now their fantasy came wrapped up in a nice little plastic bag called philosophy. Flawless world-building, striking events, and intelligent subject matter even led some fantasy purists to regard Bakker as one of the greatest living authors of the genre.
Six years later and Bakker is still going, his latest book The Judging Eye forming the fourth instalment of the series he terms The Second Apocalypse. Interestingly enough, it is also the beginning of a new trilogy, following on from The Prince of Nothing. It aims to reintroduce (or introduce, depending on what you've read) the reader to the world of Eärwa, a place that Bakker himself claims "kicks some major ass." At the same time, it picks up on the events of previous books, twenty years later.
As is tradition with his series, Bakker provides a short summary of "What has come before" at the end of the book. It's an accurate and extensive synopsis, but if you're new to the books it might be a good idea to just dive in and piece the bits together as you go. For the purposes of this review, however, here's a quick rundown of what all the hype is about.
Achamian (think Rincewind waking up in a world of brutality and rape) is a sorcerer caught up in the events of a Holy War reminiscent of the First Crusade. He has nightmares about a forthcoming apocalypse that no one really believes in and all the nasty beasties that are going to cause it, including Sranc (orcs), Bashrag (trolls), Wracu (dragons) and the dreaded No-God (love child of Sauron and Imhotep from The Mummy). He gets a bit scared by all this so decides to re-establish a meaningful relationship with a prostitute called Esmenet.
Meanwhile, up North, some guy called Kellhus decides to show up with his barbarian sidekick, searching for his father and claiming to be a Prince of a faraway land. All pretty staple stuff so far. Except Kellhus isn't really a prince, he's from a line of "Dunyain," a secret sect specially trained and bred to have all the abilities of a psychic-ninja-Jesus. By observing people's actions and facial expressions, Kellhus can pick out the minutest detail of a person's mind and effortlessly use this information against them.
Stuff happens, characters turn up here and there, Kellhus usurps the entire Holy War, defeats the enemy and ends up being crowned King of pretty much everything. Somewhere in between all this he becomes first a sorcerer, then an uber-sorcerer, then decides to steal Achamian's wife. Achamian goes off in a huff. End of book three.
As wonderful as all that sounds, of course it doesn't really do Bakker justice. Amongst the main threads of the story there lurk a myriad of subtle little subplots, all tied up nicely with questions of religion, gender, and the sheer existential darkness that seems to envelop everything. Oh and power. Always power.
The Judging Eye, as I say, begins twenty years later. Kellhus is worshiped as a living God and leads the united armies of Southern Eärwa against the threat of the No-God and the Second Apocalypse. Meanwhile, his wife (Achamian's ex) has the messy job of looking after Kellhus' newly constructed empire. She's got children as well, lots and lots of children, all of whom suffer some sort of psychological defect. Juggling everything, not to mention whispers of rebellion, she's starting to find it hard to cope.
Elsewhere, Achamian is living as a hermit. Not fully content with this lifestyle, he goes and teams up with his ex-wife's abandoned daughter, Mimara, who is convinced he is her father. Naturally, they have sex. Only once, though, which for Bakker is the equivalent of a life of celibacy.
Together, they go off in search of Kellhus' past, back to where it all began: the Dunyain fortress of Ishuäl. It is during this journey that most of The Judging Eye's action takes place, heavily reminiscent of traditional epic fantasy and similar in many ways to writers such as Erickson and (obviously) Tolkien. The trip through the Black Halls of Cil-Aujas for example, is almost an alternate reality Mines of Moria, steeped in ancient, claustrophobic blackness and echoes of a long dead history.
The question, though, is does The Judging Eye live up to the massive expectations forged by its predecessors? The short answer is, not really. To some extent, The Darkness that Comes Before could be considered a piece of "great" contemporary literature. In earlier books it was hard to turn a page without shivering in anticipation as the events of the present veered dramatically towards both the past and the future with equal velocity, coalescing beautifully towards the end, whereas this book seems like a shadow of a previous self, lacking in direction and purpose. Most of the flavour is already contained within the first three books and the short history that is introduced here seems somewhat irrelevant.
The pace is also less intense. The initial battle scene thrusts the reader straight into the action, but it is over as soon as it begins. Afterwards, things slow right down to a snail's pace, many scenes serving only to illustrate the general mood of the book, some repeated to the extent of monotony. Sorweel, for example, the broken King of Sakarpus, goes through an endless cycle of hating Kellhus, falling to his knees in awe, then hating him some more. The only major character progression he goes through is getting used to life on the road and coming to terms with his father's death. The rest of the time his angst floats about aimlessly, not doing anything in particular except reaffirming Kellhus' reputation and remaining stubbornly unresolved. Whereas the previous Holy War leapt off the page, reading about Kellhus' Great Ordeal can at times be like prodding a dead fish with a stick.
Also, gone are the lengthy passages of introspection familiar from the Prince of Nothing. At times they did come across as a bit over-the-top, tedious even, but they were part of what made Bakker's work so individual and groundbreaking. The Judging Eye may be more accessible to the average reader, but a part of its style and charm has been lost forever. By delving into the inner workings of seemingly ignorant characters, Bakker once held an uncanny ability to set the reader up on the intellectual high ground before tearing that ground out from underneath them. This trick is only found once in the entirety of The Judging Eye, in a short scene during which a sorcerer attempts to convince Sorweel that Kellhus really is a God. The argument is disturbingly persuasive, even for the reader.
Thankfully though, missing out all the meditation leaves loads of room for some incredible writing. After all, Bakker still trumps many epic fantasy writers, not mentioning any names. His extensive knowledge of literature, philosophy and ancient cultures all contribute to his image as a considerable heavyweight of the genre. Every race and every individual has their own history, their own culture and their own system of beliefs. The creed of the dwindling race of Nonmen for example, seems to embody a nihilistic and self-destructive version of existentialism, opposite to that of the Dunyain:
Think on it my mortal friend. The dark is oblivion made manifest. And oblivion circles us always. It is the ocean, and we are naught but silvery bubbles. It leans all about us. You see it every time you glimpse the horizon—though you know it not. In the light, our eyes are what blinds us. But in the dark—in the dark!—the line of the horizon opens... opens like a mouth... and oblivion gapes. (p. 324)
Similarly intricate and often obscure perceptions are used not only as analogies for modern philosophy, but also express rich and diverse ways of viewing Bakker's world. Absolute, universal truths are nowhere to be found, only the beliefs and opinions of questionable characters.
Some things though, people may find distasteful, such as Bakker's obsession with the phallus (that's a word he uses far too often) and his latent misogyny. The majority of his female characters are portrayed as either weak or scheming, especially Esmenet, whose motherly nature is the root of all her unhappiness. Mimara also takes after her mother by spending part of her life as a prostitute, "dressed in paste and foil to resemble none other than Esmenet herself, so that low men might couple with their dread Empress." These are things you probably have to take with a pinch of salt, considering that almost all of the characters are flawed, trodden on and highly sexualised, not just the women. Eärwa is a brutal and patriarchal world and to survive it, necessity takes precedence over morality. If anything this simply adds to the book's realism, portraying misogyny not as acceptable in modern society, but as a cruel fact of history. Mimara is after all one of the main protagonists of the story, taking her life into her own hands and steadily moving away from the darkness of her past. It's almost touching, despite Bakker's flippant use of phrases such as: "Scalper's scalp. Whores whore. We never ask one another why."
The Judging Eye is the first book in a new series, and undoubtedly designed to appeal to a wider audience than its predecessor, not just those with an MA in Humanities. One of Bakker's aims in writing it was to decrease the crushing learning-curve that dominated The Darkness that Comes Before, making The Judging Eye an easy entry-point to the world of Eärwa, especially for readers unfamiliar with Bakker. It's unfortunate that this sometimes detracts from the overall power of the narrative, but you can definitely see it from Bakker's (or indeed his publishers') point of view. So as long as you can accept that it should be read as an extended introduction, it's definitely worth picking up.
Peter Whitfield is a student living in the North-East of England.