McKillip, Patricia A. - Song for the Basilisk
Sun, Oct. 24th, 2004 08:33 pmIn the first chapter of the book, we're introduced to Rook Caladrius, the sole survivor of a horrific fire that has obliterated Tormalyne Palace and, thus, Tormalyne House. He is subsequently spirited away to become a bard on far away Luly, his only clue of his heritage being half-remembered nightmares of fire. In the end, he decides to make a trip to the hinterlands in order to unearth his own past.
However, he returns to the island without a clue, settles down with the woman he loves, has a son. He stays on the island for another decade or so, deciding that what's buried is best buried.
From this, I pinpointed part of why I love McKillip -- she doesn't write stories of young, adolescent male heroes with an unknown heritage going out to find said heritage and conquer countries or Undefeatable Evil. Her people have families and pasts, they are connected to the world they live in, rather than trampling heroically through and rescuing it without ever forming ties. I had thought from the opening chapter that the book would be on Rook Caladrius discovering his destiny and avenging his family, and while it is, it is also about his son, about his music, and in the end, about the futility of vengeance. I think this book is the anti-quest-fantasy; it has all the trappings, but McKillip very delicately sidesteps all the normal pitstops, which I why I love the ending as much as I do.
The struggle of Tormalyne House reminds me a little of Tigana, actually, except the part played by Alessan and his band of musician rebels is taken by a group of very inexperienced and idealistic musicians with no experience in war or rebellion. They're untried, like the students in Les Miserables. Meanwhile, the lost heir meanders about and is never really invested in restoring the broken house to its former glory. Then, of course, there is the music, which I loved (particularly Damiet's colored songs), and the lives of the musicians intersecting with the larger than life drama playing out in center stage.
Spoilers for the ending starting!
What I really loved was how McKillip brought everything to a head. Instead of having a successful rebellion, Caladrius and his son Hollis fail in their attempt, foiled by the Basilisk's daughter Luna (a very, very interesting character who I wanted to see more of). The Basilisk is ailing but still alive, and he demands draconian punishment of the rebels and is determined to wipe out every single person connected to Tormalyne House. But then Luna decides it is enough, and instead of hunting down and killing Caladrius and Hollis, she forgives them. Evil is revealed to be an angry old man who chokes on kindness, and all the grand gestures in the world have nothing on humanity and generosity. And instead of becoming the reluctant yet talented ruler of Tormalyne House, Caladrius decides he wants to go north, because while he can put out a Basilisk's eyes, he is no Aragorn.
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sophia_helix's review
However, he returns to the island without a clue, settles down with the woman he loves, has a son. He stays on the island for another decade or so, deciding that what's buried is best buried.
From this, I pinpointed part of why I love McKillip -- she doesn't write stories of young, adolescent male heroes with an unknown heritage going out to find said heritage and conquer countries or Undefeatable Evil. Her people have families and pasts, they are connected to the world they live in, rather than trampling heroically through and rescuing it without ever forming ties. I had thought from the opening chapter that the book would be on Rook Caladrius discovering his destiny and avenging his family, and while it is, it is also about his son, about his music, and in the end, about the futility of vengeance. I think this book is the anti-quest-fantasy; it has all the trappings, but McKillip very delicately sidesteps all the normal pitstops, which I why I love the ending as much as I do.
The struggle of Tormalyne House reminds me a little of Tigana, actually, except the part played by Alessan and his band of musician rebels is taken by a group of very inexperienced and idealistic musicians with no experience in war or rebellion. They're untried, like the students in Les Miserables. Meanwhile, the lost heir meanders about and is never really invested in restoring the broken house to its former glory. Then, of course, there is the music, which I loved (particularly Damiet's colored songs), and the lives of the musicians intersecting with the larger than life drama playing out in center stage.
Spoilers for the ending starting!
What I really loved was how McKillip brought everything to a head. Instead of having a successful rebellion, Caladrius and his son Hollis fail in their attempt, foiled by the Basilisk's daughter Luna (a very, very interesting character who I wanted to see more of). The Basilisk is ailing but still alive, and he demands draconian punishment of the rebels and is determined to wipe out every single person connected to Tormalyne House. But then Luna decides it is enough, and instead of hunting down and killing Caladrius and Hollis, she forgives them. Evil is revealed to be an angry old man who chokes on kindness, and all the grand gestures in the world have nothing on humanity and generosity. And instead of becoming the reluctant yet talented ruler of Tormalyne House, Caladrius decides he wants to go north, because while he can put out a Basilisk's eyes, he is no Aragorn.
Links:
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(no subject)
Sun, Oct. 24th, 2004 08:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Sun, Oct. 24th, 2004 08:39 pm (UTC)I got it (and a whole bunch of other C&H ones) from
(no subject)
Sun, Oct. 24th, 2004 08:49 pm (UTC)I think your comparison to Tigana is very apt. I've got a soft spot for the shared themes, hence my liking for both books. But, as you note, Tigana doesn't question the expected fantasy resolution, and Song for the Basilisk does. In particular, I like how Tormalyne House isn't idealized; they shared a dark side with the Basilisk.
I also love the contrast between folk music (the picochet) and more formal creations--and how this somehow parallels the choices before Caladrius at the end: the city or hinterlands.
(no subject)
Sun, Oct. 24th, 2004 09:13 pm (UTC)I didn't think of the relationship between the picochet and the opera as a metaphor for Caladrius' choices, but that makes so much sense!