I recently revisited Sharon Shinn’s The Twelve Houses series. I’d read the first book back when it was new. It stuck with me enough that I remembered it, 20 years later, and picked it back up.
Book one was much like I remembered. The following books far exceeded my expectations.
I’m surprised Sharon Shinn isn’t better known, given how much craft and story this series have to offer. Here are five main reasons high fantasy readers should consider The Twelve Houses.
1. The Twelve Houses series brings together a great cast of characters
The story kicks off with a group of mystics (mages) and King’s riders (elites) embarking on a sort of reconnaissance mission across the realm. Within a chapter or two, it’s clear that this will be a motley crew sort of story. The following books hold true to that promise.
Each book in the series follows one main character, with plenty of alternating sections in others’ points of view as well. Senneth, the star of book one, comes off the page quickly. Within a few hundred pages, the rest of the leads do as well, and the character writing never looks back. Every volume brings major character growth. What really stands out, however, is the dimension their relationships bring to both subsequent character development and the overall plot.
There’s a lot to love if you grow attached to any one main character. And there’s plenty to keep coming back for if you want deep comradery like in The Lord of the Rings or other early epic fantasy. As interesting as the setting and story are, it’s the characters who carry these books most consistently.
2. Shinn’s exploration of her magic system is fascinating
At surface level, the magic in The Twelve Houses isn’t particularly groundbreaking. You’ll find shapeshifters, fire witches, magical healing, concealment, and a smattering of other skills at play. By early in book two, however, it’s clear that Shinn knows how to push her magic system to its limits, finding interesting ways to solve problems within well-trodden types of sorcery.
Brandon Sanderson, a dedicated champion for this type of magic maxing, has often remarked that it’s limitations that make magic most interesting. Shinn leans into that idea again and again (long before Sanderson was known for such a thing).
Her magic system is on the harder side of things without being difficult to grasp. Each book adds both depth and breadth, fleshing it out further. And, most interestingly, Shinn continually pulls out new ways to cleverly embrace her own rules and boundaries.
3. There’s something refreshingly accessible about The Twelve Houses
This is a series most readers can tackle without fear. Booksellers today would likely categorize it as romantasy, but it blends genres in a way that makes it a great entry point for readers new to romantasy, epic fantasy, or sword and sorcery (which is what it was often labeled as when the first few books came out).
On the romantasy side, each book features a main romantic plot/couple, complete with outright confessions of love and a few weddings. On the sword and sorcery side, the series begins literally following a sword-wielding sorcerer (who needs both her physical and magical skills at various points). And on the epic side, there’s a big long quest/journey, a broad cast of political powers, the looming threat of war, and pitched magical battles in some instances.
The Twelve Houses series is never the most romantically-focused or the most epic. But this middle ground across genre lines makes it immediately readable and quite different from standard fare.
4. Each book tells a full story
Each volume in this series has a beginning, a middle, and an end. This might not be a high bar in other genres, but for high fantasy, this sense of book-by-book completion really stands out (and it stood out even more when it was first published). If you’ve read other articles in this blog, you’ll know I place a premium on the storytelling skill it takes to write this sort of series.
The series currently sits at six volumes (five novels and one novella). As epic as the scope can become, however, the individual books are fairly short. Most are between 400 and 500 pages. Even with moderate pacing (never all that fast) throughout the series, this combination of brevity and breathing room makes it a manageable reading investment for almost anyone who likes high fantasy. You’ll never find so much plot or so many characters that you can’t keep up. And you don’t have to read 2000 pages before finding out if you’ll like anything that happens.
In all, it’s continually impressive at how clean and compact each book feels.
Which connects to the final and (IMO) most impressive characteristic of all.
5. Any book in the series could be a reader’s favorite
Not only does every book tell its own story. Each volume is powerfully distinct in terms of theme. So while the series feels consistently like itself, no two books are really about the same things.
What this does is make for a series in which any book could be a reader’s favorite (which impresses me more than anything else Shinn does here). If you want the book with the most military motion, you can pick that one (and it stands on its own quite well). Or if you want the most introspective or gentle, you have a few other options. If you want the best of all, take book one or four, or maybe three. I ended up liking book two least, but even that one hit hard and delivered on numerous promises to readers.
The point is that there’s strength balanced well across the entire series. Imagine if a series as long as The Wheel of Time achieved something like this (hint, almost no series that long ever has).
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
If there’s one thing I love to find in fantasy books, it’s wizardry. And I’m not just talking about Merlin, Dumbledore, or other old guys with fancy robes (though that’s fine too). The best wizards in fantasy span a dozen different types of magic, to say nothing of their other variety.
For my list of the best wizards out there, I’m making no distinction in sex or in-world terminology. Yes, they’ll be called witches, drafters, channelers, or other terms in the books in which they appear. I’ll use a few terms (mages, in particular) interchangeably as well, but there’s no need for much distinction here. Magic is magic. Wizardry just happens to be my favorite term for it.
So without further caveat, here are my top picks for those wizards (in alphabetical order).
Mild spoiler warnings for all series listed above.
Dazen Guile brings style and substance to his magical feats
Dazen Guile goes by Gavin Guile in most instances throughout Brent Weeks’s Lighbtringer series. He’s not Gavin at all. He’s much better.
Dazen is perhaps the best showman of the wizards on this list. Not only is he described as being remarkably good looking, he’s charismatic, he has dramatic timing down to an art form, and his magical deeds embody the entire rainbow.
Dazen’s greatest magical accomplishment is probably the construction of Brightwater Wall. This is essentially an immense, city-spanning barrier made of ultra durable magical plastic. Dazen marshalls 200 other wizards to get it done, showing that he’s a team player, as much as loves to show off. And he does it within only a few days.
Even though the wall ends up being a bit of a failure (too many gaps left in the end), it’s just so cool all the same.
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Egwene al’Vere inspires other mages to flock behind her
Egwene isn’t the strongest channeler in Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time. She also has bad taste in Warders. But no one uses politics, guts, backbone, and rizz as much as she does to get the world’s wizards fighting on the same side.
Where other wizards shine alone, Egwene rallies everyone to her cause. Where her peers use magical objects and clever loopholes, Egwene leans into the might of aggregation. She ends up with hundreds if not thousands of channelers backing her willingly, and she personally turns the tides in multiple theaters of the Last Battle.
Even among the best wizards, few can match her in feats of strength or ultimate impact. And no one on this list is as good at making friends out of competing wizards.
FitzChivalry cares more about real life than about magical power
Fitz is the first person viewpoint character in Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy (also in other books). Readers spend a lot of time in his head. There’s no hiding his paradigm or his motivations. What really stands out—especially in a character who’s fully naked to the reader—is how Fitz cares so much more about his real world problems than about power.
It’s clear that he enjoys some of the benefits of being able to bond with animals. He also derives some obvious pleasure in defeating long-time rivals. But despite having immense magical potential, his mind is constantly concerned with real-world issues and relationships. There’s a sincere plainness and relatability to his story that makes him something of an everyman’s wizard.
Oh, and finding ways to come back from having his body killed is pretty cool too.
Gandalf is the world’s most iconic wizard—and he took down a Balrog of Morgoth
The image of wizards with pointy hats owes a lot to Gandalf. He owns the look more than anyone else. He could probably hang his famous hat on that and make it to this list already.
But he also holds the bridge of Khazad-dûm alone, ensures Frodo’s survival, and takes down an entire Balrog of Morgoth. So he’s got two unstoppably obvious reasons to make the list of best wizards in fantasy.
Ghisteslwchlohm is a villain, but he cares about wizardly education
Probably the least known wizard on this list will be Ghisteslwchlohm, a dastardly wizard in Patricia McKillip’s Riddle-Master Trilogy. He’s not ultimately the most important (he has almost no time on the page, in fact), but here’s a snippet from his resume:
Founding Lungold’s school of wizards (one of the earliest magical schools in fantasy literature)
Gathering all living knowledge of the Star-Bearer by siphoning it from the minds of the world’s other most powerful wizards
Speaking the nine strictures of wizardry
Having an amazing name
The best wizards aren’t always the most obvious. Ghisteslwchlohm paved the way for a lot of other interesting magical baddies, and he did it by defying the mold and being interesting decades before villains started getting much texture.
Gilbert Norrell fights classism with wizardry
Mr Gilbert Norrell brings action to an era of academic interest. Early on in Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Norrell breaks the mold among English magicians by actually using magic. He’s treated as something of a social pariah, since his peers only study magic as a theoretical practice. In essence, he’s undermining the bourgeoisie.
This was a huge step in England’s path to wizardry. Imagine if, a few centuries later, Harry Potter had to fight Voldemort with only theoretical magic because society said it was uncouth to actually cast a spell?
In at least moderate seriousness, Norrell is an almost stereotypical wizard but one of the first and greatest to inhabit Georgian England.
Hermione Granger goes full maximalist in an era of low magic
Most wizards on this list express some serious reticence (often masked in plot device) about using their magic for mundane means. Not Hermione.
From her first scenes in the Harry Potter series, Hermione makes it clear that she’s ready to solve problems and get the job done. And her muggle-raised smarts make it obvious to her how useful magic really is.
Need better hair? There’s a magical product for that—and for shrinking front teeth while you’re at it. Ron splinched himself again? There’s some magical stuff for that too. Need a Time Lord Mary Poppins bag? Here one is.
Hermione is the wizarding world’s clear MVP in more than half of the books featuring her. She’s not only one of the most powerful spellcasters in the Harry Potter universe, she’s one of the most resourceful of all wizards (and yes, I know she calls herself a witch).
Jasnah Kholin uses magic even when it’s not cool to do so
Of all the interesting mages in Brandon Sanderson’s Stormlight Archive, Jasnah stands out for being a) exceptionally smart and b) boldly iconoclastic. She’s refreshingly respectful toward people who think she’s a little crazy. She also defends her positions and her rights to use powers that scare others.
One of the most interesting things about Jasnah (so far) is how little of her journey into power readers actually see. There are many questions yet to be answered about how she started her radiant journey. But she uses a fairly unique set of abilities and she disguises them effectively for an extended time. Even those closest to her fail to understand her power (or her character).
The element of mystery, combined with her non-mysterious consistency in showing up, make her a great wizard in her own right. Add to it that she is one of the first of her era to swear the Third Ideal (probably the Fourth as well; some people think she has even sworn the Fifth, but that’s crazy talk). Like Mr Norrell, Ghisteslwchlohm, and Gandalf, Jasnah does more than just buck trends. She sets them.
Mamoru Matsuda is a stand-up kid who faces uncertainty with complete courage
M. L. Wang’s novel The Sword of Kaigen opens with Mamoru facing something of an existential crisis. Within the first few chapters, he realizes that his view of the world has been myopic at best and more than likely just wrong. His sincere engagement with this challenge makes him relatable right out of the gate.
Then he becomes an amazing ice wizard samurai. So he’s relatable AND a boss.
Mamoru’s journey is one of the most personal on this list. It’s a game of lower stakes than pretty much any other wizard’s journey. But while other wizards are being tortured and killed (both things happen for several on this list), Mamoru is dealing with issues every reader will likewise confront at some point.
And as much of a cool wizard as he is, he solves most of his problems without magic.
Quick Ben outplays the gods over and over again
There are so many mages to choose from in Steven Erikson’s Malazan series. But Quick Ben (Ben Adaephon Delat) stands out for his combination of audacity, cunning, and down-to-earth sensibility. Where others have to be the star, he’s a preeminent team player.
Just a few Quick Ben accomplishments:
Outwitting gods (multiple times)
Expansive skill across warrens few mages understand
Surviving encounters with multiple Hounds of Shadow at once (he does this easily)
Pulling strings to make a Barghast-Bridgeburner alliance possible
Teaching others how to use truly insane powers
He’s endlessly competent while coming across as such a humble, friendly guy again and again. Not just any wizard can be amazing without hubris ruining him.
Sparrowhawk is the the wizard who thrives when wizardry is done
Speaking of hubris, meet Sparrowhawk. Like Quick Ben, Sparrowhawk is staggeringly capable. From the very beginning of Ursua K. Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle, it’s stated outright that Sparrowhawk will go far. But the narrative makes it sound like his greatest deeds would be feats of wizardry.
Sure enough, Sparrowhawk brings peace, tames dragons, fights some too, faces powers unknown to any wizard, travels farther than any before, and basically cures worldwide depression.
Despite his many amazing moments of magical might, however, Sparrowhawk’s greatest moments actually come through the power of insight. Like Mamoru Matsuda, his journey is personal and down to earth in ways that few wizards’ can be.
Case in point: Sparrowhawk eventually loses all magic and becomes an old goatherd. But even then, he has amazing presence, poise, and wizardly wisdom to exceed even Gandalf’s (no joke).
Sunny Nwazue is the wizard America (and Nigeria) have waited for
Sunny is a soccer-loving free agent among the Leopard People—a vibrant magical community in Nnedi Okorafor’s Akata Witch and subsequent books. She’s also a powerful mage who helps take down a serial killer and stops some truly horrific monsters.
She embodies elements of almost all the other magic users listed above:
Like Mamoru, she’s sincere and relatable
Like Gandalf, she stands up to powers seemingly greater than her own
When social norms and family pressures try to stop her from doing good things, Sunny does good things anyway, much like Mr Norrell, Jasnah, and Hermione
In a similar vein to Egwene, Dazen, and Quick Ben, she’s also part of a strong team dynamic so often missing among wizardkind
Last but not least, Sunny’s the only Nigerian American to make this list. Or Nigerian. Or American. The point is, England isn’t the only country with amazing magic.
Some runners up
Pug | Magician by Raymond E. Feist
John Ross | Word & Void trilogy by Terry Brooks
Thara Celehar | The Goblin Emperor by Terry Brooks
Galadriel | The Scholomance Trilogy by Naomi Novik
Will Stanton | The Dark is Rising Sequence by Susan Cooper
FAQs
Who is the most powerful wizard in fantasy literature?
There’s no clear answer to the debate about the most powerful wizard in fantasy. If ranked by sheer power alone, Dragonlance‘s Raistlin Majereor Magician’s Pug are some of the most obvious choices, since both wield power on par with gods in their settings. Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings and the Dragon Reborn from The Wheel of Time are also exceptionally powerful, since both show powers that endure more or less beyond death.
Are there differences between wizards, witches, mages, sorcerers, and other magic users?
Specific fantasy settings have their own rules to distinguish between types of magic user. In settings like Dungeons and Dragons, for instance, titles like wizard, warlock, and sorcerer often identify the source or nature of a magic user’s power. Settings like Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle also use different titles to describe the nature of training a magic user has received.
What is the source of a wizard’s power?
Wizards in fiction have countless different sources of power. Wizards across fantasy settings draw power from other magical beings, knowledge, genetically inherited abilities, contracts, magical objects, and many other sources. Hard magic systems, like the primary system in Brandon Sanderson’s Stormlight Archive, often give lore-based explanations of where a magic user’s power originates. Many other series ignore addressing this question.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
Regulars on this blog will know that I hold Ursula K. Le Guin in the highest literary regard. She wrote numerous unforgettable books, but all of my favorites in her portfolio are part of her fantasy opus The Earthsea Cycle. Which I happen to believe is as every bit as good as any fantasy series out there.
In this article I’ll explore six main reasons fantasy readers should try The Earthsea Cycle for themselves:
Before diving into the details, let me share a little background and summary.
The Earthsea Cycle is a six-book series following three main characters. There’s Arren, a princeling who learns quickly that wizardry is greater than the sword. There’s Tenar, a girl who was raised as a priestess to a malicious power. And there’s Sparrowhawk, the greatest voyager wizard (pretty much the greatest wizard in all ways) in the archipelago. Each character features prominently in two or three volumes—one coming of age novel and one book that is completely different.
The macro story is about making peace between people from different lands and intelligent species who’ve made diverging choices in their pasts. It’s a lot less overtly epic than most multi-volume high fantasy. It’s a lot smarter and more unique as well.
Here’s what I mean.
Each volume delivers a whole story and takes readers to a new place
When Le Guin began publishing The Earthsea Cycle, there were no cliffhanger-ending doorstop fantasy series to be found. Before the series hit its halfway mark, however, Tad Williams, Anne McCaffrey, R. A. Salvatore, and others had made such series the norm for high fantasy. Le Guin stayed the course, giving a full story in each book.
One of the greatest virtues to this approach is that it allowed Le Guin to take readers to new places (thematically and in terms of worldbuilding) with each story. Several overarching themes recur, but each book is incredibly distinct. The pacing, style, cast, setpieces, and ultimate resolutions are their own—not just continuations of something from before.
The distinctive wholeness of each volume was even more unique by the time Le Guin finished the series in 2002. Imagine, in contrast, if every novel of The Wheel of Time,The Sword of Truth, Deverry, Shannara, or Dragonlance brought a fresh thematic cycle (and simultaneously managed to deliver a beginning, middle, and end within less than 300 pages). Of course, Le Guin was writing a different kind of book than her peers. But that’s the real point to begin with.
The macro Earthsea story is cohesive and complete
On a similar note, Le Guin still instilled a single through story into The Earthsea Cycle. Continuous character arcs, expanding scopes, and connection points both subtle and overt in nature give the series both a red thread and momentum to the end.
The interesting thing is that Le Guin actually intended to end it multiple times. She published the first three volumes close together, but she planned for A Wizard of Earthsea (the first book) to be a true standalone novel. Only after writing The Tombs of Atuan (which she first called a sequel) did she move onto the idea of The Earthsea Trilogy. A whopping 17 years later, she realized she had more to write in this world, eventually expanding it to six books.
If you read them back to back, you might never realize so much time had passed in the telling. The consistency of style and the harmonious paradigm in each book makes it feel as if Le Guin never paused to work on anything else.
Oh, and when she added a final short story 17 years after the last book hit shelves, she really did make it clear that the series was done. Le Guin passed away that same year, marking a full 50 year gap between the beginning and end of the series.
But she finished it. If only more fantasy authors could claim the same.
Any book in the series could be a reader’s favorite
Another witness to Le Guin’s skill is the variety of responses fans share when asked to name a favorite Earthsea novel. The first three are almost equally popular. Book four in the series has a smaller base of diehard fans but tends to elicit an extra strong (and positive) response for those who buy into it. And if you scan all the Le Guin subreddits, you’ll find plenty of people naming book six as their all-time favorite as well. It’s only the very different fifth volume (a short story collection) that I haven’t heard fans vote for.
Still. To have five out of six in the running (83%) for fan favorite is all but unheard of. Harry Potter is the only similar example I could find—contrasting with numerous high fantasy series where the fans’ pick is clear and overwhelming.
The long and short is that Le Guin didn’t write many novels. But she only wrote good ones.
Earthsea offers rich lore without a bloated page count
Speaking of the long and short. The entire Earthsea Cycle spans just 320,000 words or so. That’s about one volume of long epic fantasy (Wheel of Time or Malazan, for instance). Even MG and YA novels routinely net longer word counts than her books have.
Le Guin began writing in a time when shorter novels were more of the norm, even for SFF, but there’s still something amazing happening here. Her worldbuilding outshines dozens of longer works. There’s a strong sense of place in each book. History springs up everywhere. There’s cultural variety. And the magic at work in Earthsea is much more developed than many other works with hard magic systems.
I’m continually mind-boggled at how much story and lore Le Guin managed to pack into just six short books. And I’m in awe at how conclusively she tells so many stories with so few words. The recent graphic novel adaptation of A Wizard of Earthsea even managed to cut a chapter or two (close to 20%) of plot events without losing a clear storyline.
Earthsea’s worldbuilding has been incredibly influential
Short and sweet can be just as sticky as anything from a longer series. Look at the magic system in Earthsea as an example.
Within this system, mages derive much of their power from their ability to find and speak the true names of a given thing or being. While Le Guin isn’t the first person to come up with the idea of names having power, her systemized use of it made for one of the most robust and comprehensible magic systems in fantasy for decades to come. And this alone has been adapted (or copied wholesale) by numerous SFF authors.
A few examples:
“True Names” by Vernor Vinge
The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini
Numerous works by Tanya Huff
The Books of Pellinor by Alison Croggon
The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher
The Iron Dragon’s Daughter by Michael Swanwick
The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud
Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke
Even more importantly, Le Guin did a great deal to normalize the departure from purely European-inspired fantasy settings and white casts of characters. One of Le Guin’s most vocal criticisms about her own series (there are many) is about how her publishers consistently avoided depicting a person of color in cover art and illustrations. She wrote a non-white hero and wanted him to appear on the cover. I’m hard-pressed to find many fantasy authors doing that before the turn of the century, let alone having the courage to criticize publishers for hiding it.
There’s a true sense of magic and wonder in every book
At the end of the day, Earthsea inspires wonder. It’s a unashamed example of high magic—higher than almost any peer works I can name—with Le Guin proving she was worth her Gandalf Grand Master Award at every turn. From my first few minutes with the first book, I found storytelling wizardry at every turn, and the following five books maintained the magic effortlessly.
If you want to magic on the page, you can’t do much better than picking up The Earthsea Cycle.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
The fantasy genre has plenty of trilogies—and more than a few trilogies come with a weak middle book. In earlier years, particularly, the second volume was often more about setting the scene for the finale than actually delivering a full story. Plenty of trilogies just end book two with cliffhangers, almost as if to say that’s the only way to get readers into the next story. All’s to say that it’s probably more difficult to find trilogies where the middle book shines brightest than the ones where either other volume is the star.
The Dark Forest by Cixin Liu | Remembrance of Earth’s Past
Most people know Cixin Liu for The Three-Body Problem, which is a wholly fantastic book by itself. But the subsequent story is the one that truly amazed me.
The Three-Body Problem unfolds sort of like a hard sci-fi murder mystery, with a group of scientists, academics, and government officials searching for an explanation as leading scientists around the world continue to commit suicide. The quest for answers reveals that an alien civilization is just a few centuries from arriving to claim Earth as their own.
The Dark Forest picks up as earth grapples with the reality of this impending invasion. It features a similarly global (and even interstellar) plot, along with a similar group of scientists and world leaders. Where The Dark Forest really excels, however, is in the brilliant marriage of established science, theory, and plot. Its exploration of “cosmic sociology,” as the novel terms it, leads to a powerfully plausible finale and an unforgettable character journey for protagonist Luo Ji.
The following book, Death’s End, is yet another book I will never forget, but The Dark Forest is so strong by itself that you could almost end the trilogy here. I truly rank it #1 among #2 volumes in trilogies.
Book two epicness summary:
Amazing plot
Truly visionary science fiction theorizing
Deeply satisfying character journeys
Honing the ending in a way that feels like book two is its own book—not just a vehicle for the next one
Reading recommendation: It’s like Ender’s Game meets Foundation, so if you’re into hard science fiction with a sociological spin, you’ll probably like Cixin Liu’s Remembrance of Earth’s Past trilogy.
Mistborn: The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson | Mistborn Trilogy
Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn Trilogy continues to be among his most popular works (possibly the top). But the first and third volumes of the trilogy get the most discussion.
The first is very strong all around. The third is more divisive in that it’s a bold new direction for an epic trilogy like this. And so the middle volume is often overlooked. Here’s why I think it merits more attention.
Volume one delivers on plot, character growth, and Sanderson’s telltale magic system wonder. In The Well of Ascension, however, we really start to see Sanderson’s character writing skills go somewhere new. Not that I love all the characters on the page (I’m not a big Elend fan, personally). But Vin and Zane—a new character in this book—move the story forward in a much more interesting and thought provoking way than what we see in book one, and the plot gains a lot of strength from the new depth of these characters.
Last but not least, The Well of Ascension shoulder the question of what happens when the good guys ‘win.’ It shows the story doesn’t really end there—or at least doesn’t have to.
Book two epicness summary
Great new characters
Upping the ante for returning characters
Super Sanderson-esque storytelling around fantasy tropes
Reading recommendation: Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy is a great mix of trope subversion, hard magic, and characteristically high octane action. If you like Brent Weeks’s Lightbringer series, you’ll probably love this trilogy.
Royal Assassin by Robin Hobb | The Farseer Trilogy
The last thing you want book two to be is forgettable. Well, Robin Hobb’s Royal Assassin is one book I’m confident I will never forget.
Royal Assassin builds directly on key events from Assassin’s Apprentice (the previous book in the trilogy), following the training and secret assignments of FitzChivalry while the Six Duchies contends with a brutal invasion from the Red-ship Raiders.
Much of the novel is about Fitz’s personal growth following a near-death experience in the first volume. What makes this book incredible is how willing Hobb is to up the stakes. She just keeps pushing Fitz into even more challenging circumstances than he has faced before. There’s no plot armor. There’s no magic bullet. Consequently, there’s no escaping the story unscathed.
The ending, in particular, is equal parts devastating and relieving. While the entire trilogy is well worth reading—because Robin Hobb always delivers powerful books—this volume packs more of a punch than any other Hobb book I’ve read.
Book two epicness summary
Aggressive upping of the story’s stakes
Continuity with the themes of the previous story while going new places all the same
Gripping character work
An ending readers won’t forget
Reading recommendation: If you like Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy, you’ll probably also enjoy Lois McMaster Bujold’s World of the Five Gods or Tad Williams’s Osten Ard books.
Eldest by Christopher Paolini | The Inheritance Cycle
Looking at it today, Eldest is not the middle book in a trilogy. It’s book two of four. But I’m including it since it was the middle book of a planned trilogy when it first came out.
Eldest begins immediately after Eragon ends, following Eragon’s journey to develop his unique powers as the only dragon rider opposing an evil emperor. Its plot is fairly straightforward. Eragon trains and matures while his allies wage war against the empire. Where it really excels is in the small scale execution of the plot, taking key characters to new places (physically and emotionally) and exploring new themes. In essence, Eldest stands out for how it takes basic storytelling elements (conflict, character relationships, plot progress) and handles them really well.
Stakes are higher. The world is bigger. And there’s something of a new story in this volume itself, bringing key characters from a start to a middle and to an end. But most of all, it serves the longer storyline well by elevating the chapter by chapter experience over what the previous book offered.
Book two epicness summary
Growing the scope of the narrative
Containing a story within a story
Winning at the basics while playing the long game
Reading recommendation: A great place to go next, if you enjoy Christopher Paolini’s Inheritance Cycle, is Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonriders of Pern books.
The Elfstones of Shannara by Terry Brooks | The Sword of Shannara Trilogy
Terry Brooks’s Sword of Shannara Trilogy is unique, among epic fantasy trilogies, in how well each book stands alone. The first book has a beginning, a middle, and an end. So do the next two volumes—and like a great concerto, it delivers in each stretch of the journey.
The Elftsones of Shannara stands out, however, in how well it both opens and closes. It starts with a no-nonsense, major problem (a throng of very angry demons is about to break out of magic jail). The key conflict is obvious within just a few pages. Using an unconventional structure for the narrative, Brooks cleverly paces out the needed immersion into the wider story and large cast of the book, which is something that second books so often fail to do in fantasy.
It’s impressive enough to me that this book’s ending is as strong as the opening. Add to it that Brooks gives us an ending that demands a complex solution—not just a battle to beat the big bad—and the book propels itself much higher into the ranks of outstanding fantasy novels (and outstanding middle books among them). It’s a book that ends as if this is the end. Few writers have the bravery to close like that nowadays, or the skill to do it like Brooks does here.
Book two epicness summary
Moving on to tell a new story
Opening with power
Demanding complex solution
Closing the book as if it’s the end
Reading recommendation: If you enjoy Terry Brooks’s The Sword of Shannara Trilogy, you’ll probably also enjoy The Icewind Dale trilogy (or most Drizzt Do’Urden books) by R. A. Salvatore and The Riftwar Saga by Raymond E. Feist.
Dragonsinger by Anne McCaffrey | The Harper Hall Trilogy
Anne McCaffrey penned a particularly gentle story in her Harper Hall Trilogy. This trilogy follows a young girl named Menolly who befriends fire-lizards and writes songs. Dragonsinger picks her story up as she enters the famous Harper Hall to begin a more formal study of music.
There’s no time travel, so fans of MaCaffrey’s earlier Pern books might be disappointed. And there’s no epic conflict with a threat from space, so fans of her later books might be chagrined too. But anyone who has gone to school, been a teenager, or met a bully will find a lot that’s relatable and compelling in Dragonsinger. It’s a quick read, but it’s full of highs and lows that are true to real reader experiences.
I read this middle volume by mistake (thinking it was the first book in the trilogy) when I was a teenager, and the story swept me away even without the context of book one.
Book two epicness summary
Not waiting too long for the victories to come
Bringing early cozy vibes to fantasy
Gentle wish fulfillment fantasy for music lovers (like me)
Reading recommendation: If Anne McCaffrey’s Harper Hall Trilogy works for you, you’ll probably also enjoy just about anything by Patricia McKillip.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
Terry Brooks was perhaps the first “epic fantasy” author I ever read. Since I was a teenager, his books have maintained a distinctly positive place in my mind for that alone. As I recently picked up The Elfstones of Shannara (which I first read at age 16), I wondered how it would hold up for me personally, given all that I’ve read and the life I seem to have lived since then.
I sort of expected Elftsones to disappoint me here or there. Books I loved as a teenager often do nowadays. I also wasn’t sure how well my own tastes would take to it now, after more than five years since I’ve read any of Brooks’s work. Not to mention that I really didn’t like the MTV adaptation of the book, further upping my reservations about a reread (once the elf DJ put on Coldplay during the magical Ellcrys ball, I sort of stopped believing).
Caveats and concerns aside, my Elfstones reread reminded me just how powerful Brooks can be as a storyteller. I loved the book the first time around, and I loved it much more this time.
Here are a few reasons why.
The Elfstones of Shannara has an amazing opening
Brooks has written several striking starter chapters through the years, but Elfstones stands at the top for me. The very first scenes accomplish a great deal of worldbuilding, set up the key plot challenges (a magical seal that has held demons in check for millennia is now fading), and get fairly deep into the mind of one of the book’s most interesting characters.
This opening hooked today-years-old me and pulled me right back into the Four Lands, even after my many years away.
So many recent epic fantasy novels err on the side of not taking time to properly ground the reader—and so many back in the day took too much time setting the table before any story starts happening. Yet Brooks manages a wonderful, readable balance right from page one. Not every chapter does it quite so well, but it goes a long way to get such a compelling, craft-smart chapter right out of the gate.
Elfstones has a unique and compelling structure
The first chunk of the book follows Ander Elessedil and then Allanon the druid, giving plenty of plot and high stakes without ever meeting Wil or Amberle—whom I recalled being the real heroes. The Elftsones of Shannara is somewhat like The Lord of the Rings in how it alternates mostly in large batches of chapters, leaving similarly large breaks before you get to continue with another storyline.
Tolkien’s structure doesn’t work for every reader. But by establishing a more regular cadence of story juggling, Brooks gets the benefits—longer stretches to really get to know the characters and appreciate each sub group’s challenges—along with the big book feeling of having multiple plotlines unfolding in parallel.
One of the most interesting aspects about Elfstones is how little the viewpoint characters in one storyline know about the ones in another. It really helps up the stakes, since they’re all in the dark at the same time the reader is, which is not the case in The Lord of the Rings or many other books that alternate between characters at a more conventional pace.
There’s a lot of sequel power in The Elfstones of Shannara
Brooks’s first book (The Sword of Shannara)is somewhat famously similar to The Lord of the Rings, and not in terms of structure as referenced above. The plots and character groupings are remarkably alike. In fact, these similarities are the number one source of criticisms for Brooks’s debut.
That said, The Sword of Shannara made a huge impact on fantasy as a viable ‘genre.’ The pressure was on when Brooks wrote Elfstones. Add to that pressure: a) Brooks writing half of a totally different novel and having to scrap it; b) Brooks having to rewrite half of Elfstones for his editor after finishing the first draft; and c) general challenges making the middle book of a trilogy as strong as the first or third, and you have quite the recipe for a boring old book two of yesteryear.
Instead, Brooks brings true sequel power—taking what was good and making it better while offering a truly new story. Very little about Elfstones feels like a repeat of Sword’s initial success. Brooks truly pushed himself into new territory with this one, and it pays off big time for readers because the story, character, and setting all stand on their own.
And that might be one of the core strengths in The Elfstones of Shannara. A reader can pick it up without having read the former book. That reader can get a whole story in this single volume. There are clear rewards for reading book one first (and book three after). Yet this is one of those rare trilogies that doesn’t require 100% follow-through to get a complete story.
Killing the villain isn’t the solution in Elfstones
Most epic fantasy ends with a violent solution. Defeat the baddie and the problem is resolved. This was one of Ursula Le Guin’s biggest complaints with the genre (for something wholly different, explore her Earthsea Cycle).
Elfstones is about as martial as most epic fantasy, with several large-scale battles and numerous smaller ones. But we find out early on that the plot needs a resolution other than being the best warrior. Furthermore, Brooks fulfills that promise. He does it both through the development of the plot and via key characters like Ander, Amberle, Wil, and even Allanon.
Spoiler alert: Allanon does kill the baddie. And the fight keeps going.
Brooks’s offers a much more interesting solution in the end. Instead of killing something, the heroes solve the problem by growing something. I wish I had a few dozen more epic fantasies that use creation as the solution to destruction. (Again, read Earthsea if you want this too; Sean Russell’s Initiate Brother Duology is another great example).
The Eflstones of Shannara has a hard-hitting ending
Last but least is the last. Elfstones brings it home with a fantastic ending. This is shockingly rare.
Epic fantasy, as a genre, tends to lack strong endings. You’d think people would copy Tolkien more and give the ending time to breathe. Yet so many epic series rush to the finale and fail to deliver much beyond a big battle. This might not be such an egregious sin. Except that some of these series have pulled readers along for thousands of pages, all for a lackluster moment that doesn’t deliver on what readers really want.
Elfstones isn’t most epic fantasy. It wraps up several carefully introduced themes. The story sees every major character through to a critical arrival point. It ties loose ends briefly but powerfully. There’s even a hint or two at more story to come without requiring the reader to press on.
I wish for more epic fantasy with journeys like the ones in Elfstones. And I’d love to read a few more that pull the ending of the journey off so well.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
Almost from the first time I heard of them, I was told to tread with caution where Steven Erikson’s Malazan books are concerned. Even his diehard fans say this series is hard to read. Some even intimate that The Malazan Book of the Fallen (the series’ official name) is the most difficult epic fantasy series to read of any written by a living author.
I was about sixteen when I picked up the first volume. I backed off after just a page or two. This was mostly thanks to accounts of the Malazan learning curve—and not actually due to anything I was reading. Now, four books into the series, I seriously wish I’d pressed on instead of moving on in search of simpler series.
Malazan isn’t really so hard to read. It’s complex, to be sure, and Erikson doesn’t hold readers’ hands like some other authors do. But I’m convinced that thousands of epic fantasy readers are missing out because of exaggerated reports about the challenges of reading this series. Many readers also steer away, unfortunately, because of the vigor of Erikson’s valiant fans, who can, in their zeal for the books, often attack and insult potential readers.
I believe there’s a lot of happy middle ground, so here’s my take and TLDR pitch for the series: If you love unique epic fantasy, you should seriously consider reading Malazan. It truly isn’t that hard to digest—and there’s assuredly as much to admire as Erikson’s fervent fans proclaim.
First, some background and a few notes on the Malazan learning curve.
What is the Malazan series about?
Malazan is a story about: godlike beings breaking free from their imprisonment; an empire crumbling, rallying, and redefining itself; a squad of veterans fighting to survive; individual people struggling to stay individuals (not just pawns in ascendants’ hands).
Readers often have a hard time describing the plot because there are, in fact, many plots. In fact, the interweaving of so many is one of the sources of difficulty for most readers, although most Malazan storylines by themselves will feel plenty familiar to fantasy readers.
Is Malazan really that difficult to read?
This is a legitimate question. Here are some of the things real world readers say about Gardens of the Moon (the first book in the series) in Amazon reviews:
“Erikson seriously erred beginning this story in medias res.”
“What I found… was a turgid, impenetrable mess.”
“Everything stops reading like nonsense about halfway through.”
“Things seemingly come out of no where [sic]. No explanation. No rules.”
“The book is too difficult.”
And here are a few comments from experienced reviewers:
Library of a Viking: “I barely understand a single thing.” (commented in the middle of book two.)
Daniel Greene: “This is for epic fantasy fans only.”
Bookborn: “I thought I was too stupid for the series.”
I tend to disagree with the tenor of the comments above. But coming to grips with Malazan is obviously a challenge for many smart readers.
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Some authors tell you three or four times how everything works in their fantasy settings. Erikson respects reader intelligence a lot and spreads his telling more thinly. Sometimes he lets you figure things out all on your own, which can make it difficult to read Malazan.
Easy example: Characters in Malazan refer often to the unfortunate dead crossing Hood’s Gate. Erikson doesn’t sit down and go into expository detail about Hood being the god of death or his worship being one of a few sanctioned religions before the Malaz conquest of Kartool Island. He generally just lets characters say things like, “He’s already at Hood’s Gate.” There’s enough context to figure out quickly what these characters really mean.
Not so simple example: Erikson famously assumed hordes of readers would deduce the identities of several new ascendants (gods, more or less) based simply on the timing of their ascent. In book two or three he says outright, “Those new ascendants are in fact such and such characters.” I read book one and most of two without ever putting the pieces together. That’s how it goes for almost all Malazan readers out there. (Sidenote: it doesn’t actually matter whether readers picked up the hint or not. The plot still makes plenty of sense up to the point that Erikson does share the information more forthrightly.)
Malazan readers do still need to come to grips with a lot. There’s a vast high fantasy setting, with a big cast. The world has unique races, a large pantheon of important players, and an incredibly important magic system. All without much overt guidance from the author. The thing is, Erikson anchors the reading experience so expertly that you don’t need to know everything. Not by a long shot. His effective use of prose, characterization, and plot go a long way to proofing his books against gaps in reader memory or notice.
You get some whole stories without reading to the end
Another chief way Erikson offsets the learning curve is by giving a solid ending with just about every book in the series. Malazan stands head and shoulders above many other truly great works of epic fantasy by delivering substantive stories without requiring quite so much of the reader’s blood to access each one.
Gardens of the Moon, for instance, has a beginning, a middle, and an end. It doesn’t have all the endings it could have. But it provides a satisfying stopping point for readers who decide they’ve had enough. Deadhouse Gates (book two) does this even more profoundly, finishing a few amazing stories while continuing and beginning others. It strikes a balance sort of halfway between Terry Brooks’s original Sword of Shannara trilogy—in which each book ended its own tale more or less completely—and Brandon Sanderson’s Stormlight Archive—in which each book has a strong conclusion without closing many doors.
So. If the idea of a 10-book series scares you, take comfort. Malazan is a much safer, less difficult investment than The Wheel of Time, A Song of Ice and Fire, The Sword of Truth or many other peer series. You can bail out at the end of almost any book and you’ll still get some solid, whole stories.
Malazan’s greatest strengths are tied to its moderate difficulty level
One of the things that amazes me most, having read just a quarter of the series so far, is how much story Erikson has already packed in. The pace is unyieldingly quick, with major events advancing in every chapter. Part of the genius of the books is how much Erikson elects to skip. Other authors might fall into the trap of overexplaining or making sure it’s all crystal clear (e.g. where other authors often do overexplain or overemphasize). Not Erikson.
It’s surprisingly like William Gibson’s Neuromancer in this way. So much happens so quickly, often with little contextual information shared in the moment. But the heart of the story is clear without much context anyway. Truly, the author’s choice to skip the boring parts doesn’t hurt. It just keeps things interesting.
Difficulty level or no, Malazan sets an unfathomably high bar for epic fantasy
The biggest reasons to read Malazan are, of course, not about the level of difficulty or the time commitment required to read it. You should read the series because the books are amazing.
It’s not great because of the 700 character-cast. It’s great because of the depth of human insight they bring to the story or the riveting relationships those characters form.
The series doesn’t need the careful stitching together of 30 different plotlines to be exciting. It’s exciting because of the quality of storytelling in each smaller story Erikson develops.
Malazan isn’t about Erikson’s obvious love for history, either, regardless of the hundreds of thousands of years of lore bleeding onto the page. Malazan is about being transported to an unforgettable setting.
It’s bigger than The Wheel of Time and richer than Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn—with a larger world, a stronger history, deeper cultures, and a more lively cast of characters. Its moments of breathtaking heroism rival anything in the genre, from The Lord of the Rings to Elfstones of Shannara to the Lightbringer series. The deep human insight pervading these books is particularly unique, measuring up with the best of Robin Hobb, J. V. Jones, Sean Russel and many other top tier fantasy authors. In short, there’s something outstanding here for just about any epic fantasy reader.
Conclusion: Epic fantasy readers should seriously consider Malazan
I first learned about Erikson thanks to a Terry Brooks fan forum. It was in this same forum that I—as a hungry young fantasy reader—first heard of R. A. Salvatore, Anne McCaffrey, Guy Gavriel Kay, Naomi Novik, and many other authors old and new alike.
Everywhere Erikson came up, his work was regarded on par with Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, often with no competing comparisons. It was this consistent attribution of quality that finally convinced me to try Malazan again after 15+ years since my first attempt.
From where I am, a mere 25% through the series, I genuinely believe those claims.
Reference information
The number of named characters in the Malazan series: Malazan has about 700 named characters. For comparison, A Song of Ice and Fire has about 1000 so far, and The Wheel of Time boasts a whopping 2700.
Word count of the Malazan series: All told, the ten books in this series total about 3,325,000 words. That’s about three times as long as the entire Harry Potter series and a million words shy of The Wheel of Time.
Publication history of the Malazan series: The entire 10-book series was published between 1999 and 2011, averaging close to 15 months between each book.
FAQs
Why is Malazan so hard to read?
Steven Erikson’s Malazan is not as hard to read as many reviewers describe it. However, the series is long and complex, with a massive world, a many-layered plot, and a huge cast of key characters. Malazan also forbears from many instances of repeated explanation. The lack of expository reminders puts more onus on readers to remember what they’ve already read.
Is there an easy way to read Malazan?
Malazan is best read in publication order. Whether readers move immediately on to the next book or not, it can be helpful to review the dramatis personae included in most publications of the books. Fans have created a dedicated Malazan Wiki, which also helps readers refresh core details between books.
What’s the best reading order for Malazan?
Although the timeline jumps back and forth in parts, Malazan Book of the Fallen is written in strict order from books one to ten. The simplest reading order is in order of publication. Subsequent connected works like The Kharkanas Trilogy (a prequel trilogy) or The Tales of Witness (a sequel series) are best read after the main series, since these books offer spoilers into key events of the main series.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
I don’t love it when creators turn one good idea into a massive franchise (let alone one bad idea). But I’m also a sucker for a sequel. I especially love sequels that do their own thing rather than trying to repeat a formula. Christopher Paolini’s recent novel Murtagh is one such sequel.
If you’ve read elsewhere on my blog, you’ll know that reading Paolini’s Inheritance Cycle has had a lasting impact on me. I encountered the first two books as a teenager—struggling to finish my own first novel at the time—and eagerly awaited books three and four after that. I read Murtagh (which is flagged as a World of Eragon novel rather than a run of the mill sequel) with similar eagerness and am glad that I did, as I’ll explore in a more review-like structure than I’ve used in this blog before.
Because I’m looking at this very much as a book for people who’ve read The Inheritance Cycle, you’ll find some series spoilers below. I won’t, however, spoil Murtagh itself. Caveats, also: If you didn’t like The Inheritance Cycle, you probably won’t like Murtagh, which might mean this article isn’t for you either. But then again, maybe I can change your mind.
Murtagh shows us a different Alagaesia
Quick summary, for starters: Murtagh takes place after the conclusion of The Inheritance Cycle, when Murtagh (the character) is pretty much an outcast everywhere for his role in Galbatorix’s rule and demise alike. The Varden hate Murtagh and Thorn for fighting them in nearly every major battle. The dwarves hate them for killing their king. And for good measure, loyal citizens of Galbatorix’s empire hate them too—even though their role in bringing Gabatorix down doesn’t seem to be well or widely known.
With this backdrop, Murtagh and Thorn embark on a series of adventures to confront a new threat to Alagaesia. Part of this is about trying to do something good for the people they’ve stymied or outright fought in the past (like Nasuada). The journey is also about Murtagh and Thorn looking for where they belong now, given the huge changes they’ve brought to the world around them.
Despite events from the previous four books having huge bearings on everything about Murtagh, this book does its own thing in a few major ways:
New plot and story shape. Murtagh tells its own unique story, rather than recycling previous plot lines (which I would have hated). It also manages to feel like an entire story in one volume—even though much is left open at the end. One of the things that most impressed me about the book was how self-contained it feels, even given the huge amount of story preceding it.
New magical goings on. Paolini spent a significant amount of time establishing the magic system in The Inheritance Cycle, and that setup rewards series readers with some dynamic new ways magic can be used. On the one hand, this is cool and interesting. On the other hand, it also helps up the stakes and build character for Murtagh, whose magical training was very different from Eragon’s.
New locales. While a chunk of the book is set in places we’ve seen in previous books, Paolini breathes a lot of new life into return locations. He also shows us plenty of new and vibrant settings, all while maintaining a sort of worldbuilding aesthetic that feels fully harmonious with The Inheritance Cycle.
New faces and forces at work. New characters like Lyreth, Bachel and Uvek (my favorite of the new faces) go a long way to making Murtagh feel like its own thing. Unsurprisingly, this book also offers a lot more depth and relatability for both Thorn and Murtagh themselves, particularly in their journey from being total loners to learning what it means to play nice with others.
A different kind of story for different kinds of characters. The dragon-rider relationship is central to Murtagh much as it is in The Inheritance Cycle. Where Eragon and Saphira enjoy closeness and vulnerability from the start, Murtagh feels like a very different book in large part because of how distinctly different a dragon-rider relationship Murtagh and Thorn share.
Murtagh stays true to the tone and thematic core of The Inheritance Cycle
Just as I was really impressed with how Murtagh feels like its own thing, what I loved second most about the novel was revisiting the world of Eragon in a way that felt not just fresh but also true to form.
Paolini has had a lot of new life and writing experience to draw upon since the completion of The Inheritance Cycle. I wondered upfront whether writing his first two Fractalverse novels would shape Murtagh into something less recognizable for fans of the former books. He took a long hiatus from writing novels in Alagaesia, after all. But Murtagh feels like an organic continuation of the story, both in tone and substance.
There’s a strong thematic connection between previous books and this one. The first four books deal heavily with themes such as: the nature of oaths and promises; the loneliness of being an orphan, a rider, a dragon, the last of something, the first of something; inheritance in all its meanings; identity both based on genealogy and choice. Murtagh takes a unique angle to more or less all of these same themes, showing up as its own while really fleshing out the themes that hold The Inheritance Cycle together. In particular, there’s a lot of more subtle exploration here about what it means, in this world, to be a dragon rider—including both the power and the baggage the role brings.
The setting of Alagaesia itself also felt like a true continuation of the world Paolini began building twenty plus years before he wrote Murtagh. Part of this comes down to the way he sets the scene and the details he chooses to include. But I get the feeling that this world is firmly established in the author’s mind, firmly enough to leave, take the better part of a decade away, and return to the same setting.
Lots of fantasy authors have tried to transport readers back with them after a time away. Some succeed (Tad Williams, Terry Brooks, Robin Hobb). Many others have failed to recreate the magic, though. Thankfully, the effect worked for me in Murtagh. It felt as easy as ever to lose myself in Alagaesia.
Conclusion: Murtagh is a great read for fans of The Inheritance Cycle
The future’s bright for the world of Eragon. Especially given Paolini’s rapid pace over the past few years, I’m excited to explore where he takes readers next.
While I really enjoyed the original conclusion of The Inheritance Cycle, Murtagh made for a captivating reentry to the series.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
If you read much fantasy or science fiction, you’re probably used to sloppy exposition. SFF writers routinely err on the side of a) giving too much information and b) not giving enough. Most struggle particularly to find the right balance of doling out details at a manageable pace. After all, readers rarely agree on how much information is enough and how much is overkill.
Some writers still knock it out of the park, however. This article explores how Naomi Novik handles exposition in her 2020 novel A Deadly Education.
Alternate approaches to exposition and reader onboarding
Before getting into Novik’s approach, I want to talk through some alternate approaches to onboarding readers into the writer’s creation. There are all kinds of rules and tricks to try smoothing the playing field for a variety of readers. Some bank on reader taste and individual preference, while other types of exposition work more unilaterally.
Staggering character introductions to lighten the exposition load on the reader
If you’re writing something like The Lord of the Rings, your readers will need to learn a lot of people’s names. So, you could spread them out. Writers often introduce just one or two new faces per scene or per chapter, for instance. Tolkien isn’t known for playing by anyone’s storytelling rules, but even his approach to exposition paces character introductions fairly evenly across the sprawling story—and readers do in fact remember the ones that really matter.
Spreading out unique terms to keep things readable
Nnedi Okorafor’s Akata Witch introduces a lot of distinct terms, places, magical phenomena, etc. for how short a book it is. Okorafor keeps the reading experience very manageable, however, by putting forward new instances of magic, novel locations, never-before-seen demonic entities, fresh serial killers, all the stuff. This is very similar in concept to staggering character introductions, though clever writers (like Okorafor) overlap these techniques by giving enough familiar material to keep things recognizable as they move along.
The “show, don’t tell” bit
In defense of that old and 50% useless adage, many current SFF writers try to avoid overt explanations of anything in their settings. “That’s telling, not showing,” many of them say.
It’s not, actually. All writing is telling. It’s just telling readers surface information instead of telling substantial stuff.
The “show, don’t tell” adage serves writers well when they find ways to show meaningful information. Even though show-don’t-tellers tend to write bulky books where little actually happens (because they’re so fixated on not narrating anything directly), this remains a popular approach to overall exposition.
A Chekov’s Gun angle into exposition and worldbuilding
The majority of science fiction and fantasy writers today seem to favor a sort of Chekov’s gun approach to worldbuilding. They accomplish this by introducing key information before it becomes truly relevant to the reader and then repeating relevant tidbits when the big moment of arrival comes. The argument is that this rewards readers who’ve been paying attention. In reality it’s probably more about simplifying the reading experience. After all, plenty of readers need that second or third iteration to get new information down.
Naomi Novik takes a simpler worldbuilding route
At risk of oversimplifying, here’s how Novik takes on most of the worldbuilding challenges in A Deadly Education.
When readers need to know something new, she gives them the information.
And that’s just about it.
Yes, it sounds uber basic. The straightforwardness of the technique belies how tough it is to do. It’s also hard to find examples that both make sense and show impact in context. Here’s one, however, to show how this works:
“I was sitting with my back to the queue. That’s the safer way to sit—if you’re friendless—since it puts you that much closer to the mass of moving students, with a better view of the doors.”
A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik
This brief passage gives new information (that is surprisingly relevant) about our narrator’s survival practices and social life. it does so in a moment that readers need the information. It shows—via our narrator’s actions—and offers exposition to make sense of the action.
Here’s another passage immediately after the author introduces monsters called maw-mouths.
“The one and only way to stop a maw-mouth is to give it indigestion. If you rush into the maw-mouth on your own, with a powerful enough shield, then you have a chance to get inside before it can start eating you. In theory, if you manage to reach the core, you can burst it apart from there. But mostly people don’t get that far.”
A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik
At risk of spoilers, let’s just say that it’s important for the reader to know about maw-mouths. But it wouldn’t really have been important 50 pages earlier.
Why more straightforward exposition works for Novik and others
There are some real benefits to this no nonsense approach to exposition. First, it limits the need for repetition. Ancillary to this, it makes for shorter books overall (something Novik has done well for nearly 20 years but which many SFF authors never achieve). Novik’s expository style is actually a very efficient way to support more plodding deliveries of information too, since she doesn’t have to do plot gymnastics to fabricate excuses for why readers can now get the needed information (another common failing in SFF writing).
The dangers are many, however. If you wait until the moment to give the needed information, you might interrupt the flow of something pivotal to the plot. The background lore might be boring in comparison. Your exposition might come across as the dreaded infodump that SFF authors employed so heavily in the 70s and 80s. These reasons are probably part of why authors have shifted to less obvious, direct methods of exposition.
The reality is that some readers have come to call this kind of linear exposition “bad writing.” I beg to differ.
Here’s a non-Novik example from Brandon Sanderson’s The Way of Kings. I share this example as counterpoint since Sanderson makes consistent, strong, even vocal use of the Chekov’s Gun approach to giving information in advance. But he also finds mileage in a more step-by-step system of producing the right information at the right moment.
Here’s the example from the middle of a series-central assisination scene:
“[Szeth] slammed the door just as the guards arrived.
“The Stormlight held the door in the frame with the strength of a hundred arms. A Full Lashing bound objects together, holding them fast until the Stormlight ran out. It took longer to create—and drained Stormlight far more quickly—than a Basic Lashing.”
The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson
Small interruption, some useful information that informs many following scenes, and then the scene goes on. It’s that simple. This sort of exposition makes things so easy for readers. If only other writers would get over themselves and just give the information they want their readers to have.
My typical caveats: There are other ways to handle exposition
There are plenty of excellent writers who never dip a lone finger into such obvious exposition. That’s fine too. There are other ways to impart what readers need to know. I’m working on a blog post about Steven Erikson’s Malazan books, actually—and he leans far away from this approach to giving readers’ information.
My point is not that everyone should do it the same way. I’m not even saying to throw out the “show, don’t tell” saying (though I should write more about that sometime because it’s not great writing advice by itself).
Rather, I submit that there’s nothing wrong with just sharing what readers should understand in your world. No need to beat around the bush or mask your exposition—especially when, as Novik does in A Deadly Education, you can let the narrative voice freewheel at the same time you inform the reader.
If you want a short, punchy book, there’s a lot you can learn from Novik’s polished technique. And you’ll probably enjoy the book too.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
I’ve long been fascinated with the reader journey. Specifically with how readers make their purchasing and reading decisions. A few key reasons:
I like to read, and I’m often puzzled by how I ended up choosing this book or that author.
I actually like marketing, so this whole decision-making process interests me.
There’s a dearth of data on the reader journey.
I’ve shared a few resources for finding the right books, specifically for epic fantasy readers, but in this article I’m going to dig deeper into the wider reader journey, based on what data I could actually get my hands on (most of which is helpful but woefully dated).
Here goes.
Who’s reading books, and who’s not?
The majority of Americans still read books—old fashioned, printed on paper books.
In 2022 the Pew Research Center reported that 75% of adults said they’d read at least one book in the previous year (though some people probably lie about reading because they want to sound cool). This was a significant increase from previous years, where numbers were closer to 64%. Furthermore, most readers favored print formats, with only 9% of U.S. adults restricting their book consumption to digital formats (and a large number consuming in both print and digital).
The 2022 US Book Reading Statistics survey squared with Pew’s findings that print books still dominate the market, showing a commanding 20% lead in print product share over ebooks. As you’d expect, age and other demographics can also tell us a lot more about who’s reading and which formats are getting traction. For instance, this survey indicated that adults aged 65 or higher were most likely to read overall and most likely to prefer print books over digital, and that consumers identifying as male were less likely to read than were those identifying as female.
A 2021 Gallup poll, however, indicates that readers are reading fewer books overall (regardless of how many Americans are reading). Likewise, WordsRated’s most recent look at daily reading habits indicates that readers are spending 16-17% less time reading daily than they were a decade ago (although per day reading time has been climbing up again since 2018).
Demographics included or aside, reader habits accounted for, there’s a clear demand for books, especially in print formats.
What’s the journey for readers to choose what books to buy—or read?
Most active readers have no shortage of titles on their to-be-read lists. Data from Kobo (old data, it’s worth noting) indicates that up to 50% of online fiction sales originate with book-specific searches—meaning that readers already knew which book they meant to look for and buy. On one hand this simplifies the reader journey, because readers don’t struggle to find something they want to read. On the other hand, it makes the reading journey incredibly complex, because the choice to read one book means choosing not to read another for the time being.
This stage of the journey is where market data falls shortest—and is most needed.
Author Gigi Griffis surveyed 355 avid readers in 2017 to try answering the big question of how readers choose what books to buy. Griffis’s data is very telling, though it’s worth noting that we need a lot more surveys like this one because:
This study primarily focused on the very active, serial readers (which is just one segment of another segment of all readers).
Survey participants are nearly all fiction readers primarily (and adult nonfiction drives more sales revenue in the U.S. than any type of fiction does), limiting applicability to the wider reading conversation.
The data is nearly six years old now, with lots of changes in the book landscape since then.
And last but not least, despite this being a terrific source of insights, it’s still working from a very small sample.
All reservations aside, here are some telling findings from Griffis’s survey:
The biggest reason readers buy books is because they know and love the author
There’s clear consensus on the forces influencing book purchases, and the top two survey responses support some old anecdotal assumptions about the reader journey:
82% of readers bought a book because they already knew they loved the author.
76% bought because of a friend’s recommendation.
48% went for a new book because of a giveaway or sale.
47% attributed their purchase to amazing cover art.
44% took author recommendations to get a new book.
39% made a purchase based on book blog recommendations.
39% also bought based on placement in a physical store.
36% picked up a book because of recommendation in some sort of non-blog publication.
A number of readers purchased based on social media experiences as well:
35% found new books to buy via Facebook.
28% discovered and purchased new books thanks to Twitter (now X, I guess? Who even knows?).
12% bought after Instagram exposure.
11% found and purchased new books thanks to library recommendations.
There’s a fairly even split across common forces in the buying process
Griffis also asked avid readers to identify the reasons that influence purchasing decisions most commonly—the repeated, persistent influences behind the buying process. Unsurprisingly, the top reason readers buy is because they already know they love an author’s work. Reason number two (barely below number one) is because of a friend’s recommendation. These two combined accounted for 46% of book purchasing decisions among Griffis’s respondents.
The buying process is similar across readers as well
The three most common steps Griffis’s avid readers took before purchasing were:
Reading the back cover (82%)
Reading book reviews (56%)
Reading sample pages from the book (41%)
It’s also worth noting that 13% of these readers said they purchased books without doing any of the above. This shouldn’t be terribly surprising based on how big a factor existing fandom is for readers, but it makes an interesting case for some other marketing elements like cover art, bookstore placement, overall author brand, etc.
Book reviews play a huge role in getting new readers to buy
Another really valuable element to Griffis’s survey is an exploration into where readers get their book reviews—and what they glean from them.
As noted above, 56% of avid readers check the reviews before they buy a new book. Here’s Griffis’s breakdown of where this happens:
76% of readers consume book reviews on Amazon.
64% of readers read Goodreads reviews.
25% of readers check reviews in newspapers, magazines, and other publications.
24% of readers read reviews on book blogs and similar resources.
Just 6% of readers sample Barnes and Noble reviews.
Furthermore, Griffis’s survey unearthed some really interesting nuggets as to how reviews influence the purchasing journey for readers. While the survey doesn’t show what convinced readers, it explores a big batch of reasons avid readers would refuse to buy a book:
56% of readers would skip out on a purchase if reviews mentioned the book having typos or grammar fails.
25% of readers were put off by reviews mentioning a slow middle.
24% of readers would avoid purchasing a book if the reviews said the plot was unbelievable.
21% of readers would skip a book if reviews showed distaste for the book’s ending.
20% of readers would forgo a book purchase if reviews said the main character was unlikable.
Griffis has several other interesting findings as well, so her survey is well worth looking at, aged or not.
What makes readers read the books they purchase?
Selling the book is only half the battle. Actually, it might be even less than half, based on some of the clearest post-purchase reader data.
While it should in no way come as a surprise that many readers opt not to finish every book they buy, there’s very little clear data on which journeys led to incomplete readings, which reader personas are most likely to abandon a book, etc. The only truly clear insights come from Kobo’s decade-old findings that readers were more likely to complete books in the romance, thriller, and mystery genres—which will come as no surprise to anyone familiar with reader loyalty in these genres.
A clear implication, however, is that readers won’t become long-term, serial purchasers in cases where they don’t finish the books. Since Griffis found that author loyalty is the biggest influencer in avid readers’ purchasing habits, it stands to reason that readers need to build that loyalty by readingthe books and not just by purchasing.
Where does all this leave readers? And writers? And publishers?
No matter what you make of these scattered findings, the publishing market is due for some more data. It is much easier now to track reading behaviors, given the omnipresence of digital formats, but Jellybooks customers, Kobo authors, and big New York publishing houses alike are often investing most heavily in books that make neither a commercial nor a literary impact.
There’s always guesswork where taste is concerned, but there should be data on the reader journey too.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
There’s no shortage of underrated epic fantasy. There’s no shortage of epic fantasy at all, in fact, since epic fantasy as we know it today is the product of tried storytelling traditions from across the globe.
Critics disagree on when epic fantasy really emerged as its own subgenre. However, fantasy-dedicated imprints have consistently published series in this vein since Terry Brooks’s 1977 debut, The Sword of Shannara. And of course there are numerous notable earlier works, such as The Lord of the Rings or even The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander, who coined the term “high fantasy.”
With 45+ years of clear history behind it, epic fantasy offers lots of choices for readers today. The sheer volume of epic fantasy works now in circulation has led to many interesting works being buried or forgotten (generally underrated). This post will take a close look at just a few of these, including:
Before digging in, it’s worth confronting two overarching questions.
First: What is epic fantasy?
Longer articles than this one have tried to answer this question.
I’m not really going to equivocate about the nature of epic fantasy versus high fantasy, heroic fantasy, grimdark, or even military fantasy. Every work below contains the following characteristics: A big cast of characters (typically with multiple points of view in the same book), a secondary world setting, and storylines concerned with a grand, even earth-shaking scale of events.
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Second: What does underrated mean in the context of epic fantasy?
This is even more subjective than the question of what epic means. When I say “underrated epic fantasy,” I’m largely basing my assessment on works being less well-known. Most of the series I’ll address have devoted fans and have received high praise from their readers. They just aren’t as widely recognized as series like The Wheel of Time, Malazan, Riyria Revelations, The Broken Earth Trilogy, etc.
So, if epic is your jam and you want to find something a little different, here are ten underrated works of epic fantasy you might consider.
1. The Sun Sword by Michelle West (1997 – 2004)
As a child of the 90s, I have to think something magical was in the air at the time. Michelle West, also known as Michelle Sagara, is one of several epic fantasy authors to begin landmark series within just a few years. Like Robin Hobb, George R. R. Martin, and J. V. Jones (mentioned below), West had already shown her skill with other books before she launched into this series. She made an explosive mark on the relatively small corps of readers who got to experience it.
The Sun Sword series is also very like these works in its ability to take on darker, heavier themes with a more direct approach than much epic fantasy had in the 80s or earlier. West’s writing takes a zoomed in view of slavery, sexism, and oppression in general, making for a more challenging read than many of the adventure-focused fantasies that preceded authors like her.
West’s worldbuilding is detailed and deep, but where she really stands out is in her ability to humanize characters making drastic, compromised decisions. There are seemingly clear decisions, like whether to conceal magical powers that could make one a target. And there are much tougher ones for characters like Diora, who influence whether a catastrophic war will unfold or not.
Rich in imagination and immense in scope, West’s The Sun Sword stands up with the best epic fantasy of the 90s and beyond. But I have yet to meet a single reader in person who knows this series, reminding me what an underrated gem it is among epic fantasy.
Book Details
Six books:
The Broken Crown (1997)
The Uncrowned King (1998)
The Shining Court (1999)
The Sea of Sorrows (2001)
The Riven Shield (2003)
The Sun Sword (2004)
2. The Swan’s War trilogy by Sean Russell (2001 – 2004)
Sean Russell often flies under the fantasy reader’s radar. Most of his books are unique blends of genre elements. (For instance, he’s one of the only authors I know who has written books about what it might have been like to have Francis Bacon discover magic while envisioning the modern scientific method.) The Swan’s War is a similarly fresh amalgamation of very different ideas, but it brings a strong does of familiarity for epic fantasy readers as well.
Russell himself describes this trilogy as a sort of fantasy take on both Romeo and Juliet–with two warring families and a not entirely happy love story–and a high fantasy version of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. It might sound hard to synthesize these very different premises, but Russell’s intriguing worldbuilding and clever plotting make it work well.
Here are a few elements epic fantasy readers might especially appreciate:
A heavily martial theme as two aristocratic houses duke it out
Epic landscapes that can be traversed quickly thanks to terrestrial navigation magic
A mysterious river that might not cut the same path for any two voyagers
Freakishly strong bull monsters attacking castles in the middle of the night
Some very cunning wizards
Critics sometimes discount The Swan’s War because of similarities to The Wheel of Time–specifically in how three young men, who happen to be a lot like Rand al’Thor, Matt Cauthon, and Perrin Aybara, set out from their home and encounter a group of nomadic, peaceful people who are connected to an ancient cultural reversal and some big plot stuff. So yes, these are clear similarities at surface level.
That said, Russell’s work is not very much like The Wheel of Time in setting, tone, world-building or actual character development journeys. If Russell meant to copy Robert Jordan’s epic, he must have given up reading after book one or two.
With a fascinatingly vague magic system, exceptional examples of fantasy characters with disabilities, and some truly epic moments in each volume of the trilogy, The Swan’s War is a hidden triumph of the genre and a personal favorite on my list of underrated epic fantasy.
Good fit for readers of: Robin Hobb, Tad Williams, or Terry Brooks.
Book Details
Three books
The One Kingdom (2001)
The Isle of Battle (2002)
The Shadow Roads (2004)
3. Riddle-Master by Patricia McKillip (1976 – 1979)
Patricia McKillip is an outstanding writer, with evident skill in several big fantasy subgenres. I’ve mentioned her elsewhere on this blog and will surely do so again.
The Riddle-Master trilogy stands apart in so many ways that I’m constantly surprised it isn’t more widely known. It’s worth noting upfront that Riddle-Master is less epic than any others on the list, given that it’s a shorter tale set in a smaller world with a slimmer cast and fewer big confrontations. It’s also the earliest inclusion on this list chronologically, having hit stores a year before even Terry Brooks’s The Sword of Shannara arrived with its tidal pull toward what we now know as epic fantasy.
Riddle-Master is an astonishingly fresh combination of familiar and distinctive storytelling. The main character, Morgon of Hed, is one part farmer and swineherd, one part unlikely scholar, one part prophecy fulfillment, and one part prince with a magical connection to the very land he rules. So if you’re looking for rags to riches, coming of age journeys, unexpected royalty, or other tropes so common in epic fantasy across the following few decades, Morgon fits the bill in a totally unconventional way.
Throughout this trilogy, McKillip shows her ability to breathe magical quality into everything about her world. The setting and political structures are vibrant and can’t be disconnected from the plot and characters. The various types of magic shown or simply hinted at make the setting a treasure to explore, from the ghost-cursed forests in the south to the lonely tundras populated by wizard deer in the far north.
McKillip has often acknowledged the huge influence Tolkien had on her work. I think her Riddle-Master trilogy might be the most Tolkien-like work I’ve read by any other author. And yet it’s wholly, unforgettably unique at the same time.
Good fit for readers of: J. R. R. Tolkien, Ursula K. Le Guin, Patrick Rothfuss, or Katherine Addison.
Book Details
Three books
The Riddle-Master of Hed (1976)
Heir of Sea and Fire (1977)
Harpist in the Wind (1979)
The final book was nominated for both the Hugo Award and the World Fantasy Award; it also won the Locus Award for Best Fantasy Novel
I first encountered J. V. Jones by seeing the outstanding cover for A Sword from Red Ice (below). I was probably too young to read it then, but I recognized the cover when I stumbled across Jones’s name four or five years later. This time I also heard Jones compared to George R. R. Martin and Steven Erickson, as a contender in the very top tier of epic fantasy writers of the day. That caught my attention even more than the cover art had.
Regardless of any assessment of who writes best in epic fantasy, A Sword of Shadows has some extraordinarily strong writing that most epic fantasy readers will enjoy.
Jones’s characters–especially the less obviously central ones–are incredibly compelling, nuanced, memorable, and interesting all around. Her setting is rich with lore, history, and mystery, while teeming with just the right details to bring her cold world to life in every chapter. The story’s stakes get higher and higher, with truly immense conflicts speeding forward even as Jones spends time and care on the very small, personal battles that make her world so believable.
The long incompletion of the series might be one reason readers steer away from Jones’s work. This is one of only two incomplete series listed here, and it might stay incomplete for years to come. Jones has released samples of the manuscript for Endlords, book five in A Sword of Shadows, but we’re still waiting for a release date–and it has been twelve years since book four came out. Also, it’s hard to find any real confirmation that the yet untitled book six will actually end the series.
Incomplete or not, however, A Sword of Shadows is an amazingly vivid story so far, and I for one have high hopes for the final two volumes. And if it’s never finished? Well, then there can be some underrated epic fantasy to mirror the very popular ones that aren’t yet done.
Good fit for readers of: Tad Williams, Peter V. Brett, or George R. R. Martin.
Book Details
Planned as six books:
A Cavern of Black Ice (1999)
A Fortress of Grey Ice (2003)
A Sword from Red Ice (2007)
Watcher of the Dead (2010)
Endlords (TBD)
TBD (TBD)
5. The Cathrand Voyage Quartet by Robert V. S. Redick (2008 – 2013)
Of all the works listed here, The Cathrand Voyage Quartet might offer the most unconventional style and setting.
It’s epic in scope and character, no doubt. I’d contend that pretty much any books about emperors starting civil wars to weaken their enemies while secret sorcerers works to magically bring a banished king to power to take over the world have to fit some epic molds. But whereas just about every other book on this list features pseudo-European landscapes, long road trips, horseback chases, magical forests, and other familiar fantasy fare, Robert V. S. Redick’s four books bring a different flavor.
Many of the series’ events take place on or around the IMS Cathrand, a monstrously big unité d’habitation type of ship that can house a small city’s worth of people…perhaps forever. And what lives on this ship? Alien wizards, intelligent rats, and a captain who is sort of a 30% version of Ahab.
Oh, and there’s underwater treasure hunting.
In short, there’s lots to love about Redick’s books. The Cathrand Voyage Quartet delivers a more user friendly read than most others on the list as well, since it tends to speak to a younger audience overall without actually being dumbed down or written just for teens.
Good fit for readers of: Michael J. Sullivan, David Eddings, or Brian Jacques.
Book Details
Four books
The Red Wolf Conspiracy (2008)
The Ruling Sea (2009)
The River of Shadows (2011)
The Night of the Swarm (2013)
More underrated epic fantasy worth mentioning
With additional time, I plan to share my thoughts on a few more series well worth noting on this list! Until then, here’s a slim breakdown broken down chronologically by the start of each series:
Deverry by Katherine Kerr (1986 – ). At sixteen books and counting, Katherine Kerr’s Deverry series is the longest on this list. She does break it up, however, into smaller sub-series that make it more digestible (think three or four books each). Kerr takes a more distinctly high magic approach to her books than most epic fantasy included in this list. She also combines a firmly Celtic feel with numerous nods to Buddhism and a distinctive set of intelligent races.
Monarchies of God by Paul Kearney (1995 – 2002). Think early flintlock with a noticeable shift toward grimdark. Kearney led that charge before the arrival of names like Joe Abercrombie, Richard Morgan, Kameron Hurley, or Mark Lawrence. Also worth noting: Steven Erickson loves this series despite it being, in full, about the length of just one Erickson novel. Kearney was a big name in epic fantasy at the turn of the century but seems to have been somewhat buried as a new generation of authors rose.
Crown of Stars by Kate Elliott (1997 – 2006). Crown of Stars almost walks a line between historical and epic fantasy. Its expensive setting is strongly reminiscent of real cultures and peoples in Medieval Europe. Also worth noting: Kate Elliott is one of the early American pioneers in the world of getting a really big book split into two. Book four in this series was split first; the sixth volume in Crown of Stars wound up being 430,000 words long, necessitating an extension into seven volumes total. Maybe more publishers are cool with that size of tome now, but Elliot helped pave the way for many epic series becoming even more epic with multiple volume splits.
The Kingdoms of Bone and Thorn by Greg Keyes (2003 – 2008). This series was quite popular around the time of its release but seems to have fallen from recognition since then. Monumental struggles between aristocrats, kingdoms, powerful churches, the undead, alternate dimensions (including possibly our own…), assassins, monks, sorcerer princesses, and musicians trying to discover forgotten arts are just a few of the things to epic fantasy readers might love about The Kingdoms of Bone and Thorn.
The Godless World by Brian Ruckley (2006 – 2009). Brian Ruckley himself described his trilogy as “a fairly dark, uncompromising kind of fantasy.” Ruckley’s debut arrived in the U.S. right about the time Brandon Sanderson, Joe Abercrombie, Scott Lynch, and Patrick Rothfuss entranced fantasy readers with their own debuts. This glut of talent might be why his work didn’t get the attention other authors’ did. That said, despite some sometimes tropey plot devices, Ruckley’s trilogy brings a uniquely close look at both sides of an epic story, and he wraps the whole thing together in just three books.
Note: This article is a 2023 update of a previously published post.
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About the Author
Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogyas well as short fiction appearing in The Future Fire, MYTHIC Magazine,The Centropic Oracle, and other publications. His short story “Only an Ocean” won a Silver Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. When he’s not writing, he’s often playing his violin or wandering in the woods.
