Tag: Fantasy

  • 8 of the best magic systems in high fantasy

    8 of the best magic systems in high fantasy

    “Infinite are the arguments of mages,” wrote Ursula Le Guin. Likewise, infinite are the arguments about the best magic systems empowering those mages. This article will scarcely scratch the skin of that debate. But, as a reader and writer who cares a lot about interesting ways to use magic, I have some takes on the topic.

    Out of hundreds of possible options (probably thousands), here are the eight magic systems I think are most interesting in terms of how the author actually uses them.

    1. True names | Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle
    2. Luxin | Brent Weeks’s Lightbringer series
    3. Death Witnessing | Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor
    4. The One Power | Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time
    5. Forging/soulstamping | Brandon Sanderson’s The Emperor’s Soul
    6. Honorable mention: The Skill and the Wit | Robin Hobb’s Realm of the Elderlings
    7. Honorable mention: Warrens | Steven Erikson’s Malazan
    8. Honorable mention: Sympathy | Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicles

    1. True names | The enduring magic system of Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle

    Numerous magic systems use naming as a means to control things, generally centered on the concept of a true name. This system has roots in various religions and folk traditions. Unsurprisingly, Le Guin latched onto it and built a fascinating magic system around it.

    At its heart, the idea is this: By knowing the true name of a thing, a wizard can control it. Sparrowhawk, the titular character in Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea, uses this principle to befriend birds, to tame a dragon, and to heal himself. It’s a simple enough concept for readers to follow to interesting ends. The ways Le Guin problematizes it are even more compelling.

    For instance, it’s not enough to know the sea’s name. A wizard might need to know the name of every drop of water before controlling an entire sea. Le Guin’s books also describe some things that don’t know their own names and are so free they can ignore the call even when issued by wizardry. Most fascinating is the way in which most trained wizards essentially subdue their own sexuality through use of their power (a concept only hinted at for the first few books of The Earthsea Cycle).

    Le Guin’s magic system is unfathomably powerful, yet it’s tempered with very real costs and risks. And above all, Earthsea is a place that uses wizardry for endlessly interesting things.

    Instead of the binary battle spells so common in early fantasy (heal wounds or cause them), Le Guin gives us a full array of tasks wizards might accomplish through magic.

    Her wizards fix pots and heal cataracts. They manage the winds for sailors. They repair boats and herd goats. Sometimes they send messages, and sometimes they refrain—because any use of their power is perilous to the wizard who understands it. Wizardry feels like a lived-in, economic element in Earthsea. It’s so fully incorporated that I can’t imagine the setting without it. That alone is why I rank it above all other magic systems in high fantasy.

    2. Luxin drafting | Creative and beautiful magic in Brent Weeks Lightbringer books

    Brent Weeks famously yelled at Brandon Sanderson when the latter published Warbreaker just a year before Weeks’s The Black Prism hit shelves. The issue? Color-based magic. Weeks wanted to do it first. Regardless of any common hue (pun intended), Weeks’s system of luxin drafting stands very much on its own.

    This magic system combines vision with physical substance.

    First, vision. Drafters (mages) can typically only draft one or two colors. These are only available when they have some source of that color in sight—which leads to all sorts of clever tricks like colored lenses for the drafters or reflective armor to counter mages.

    Next, substance. Whatever colors a drafter can access, the accessing mechanism spawns a physical substance, luxin, of an associated color. Luxins bring unique characteristics like durability, flammability, stickiness and so on. The evocation of luxin also allows build-up within a drafter’s body and expulsion (shooting streams or bolts of it out, for instance). There’s plenty of dueling and fighting to be done with luxin in these books. But there’s also an immense measure of craft and commerce connected to drafting.

    Drafters use luxin to track one another, to build vehicles, and even to fortify a city. As with Le Guin’s system of true names, a measure of this magic system’s appeal is its utility for so many different things. Combine that with numerous cool ways to manipulate the system, and it makes for an original and compelling magic system throughout the Lightbringer series.

    3. Death witnessing | An inglorious religious magic in Katherine Addison’s most popular works

    Imagine a magic system that’s basically just used for feeling what a dead person felt, or thinking what they thought. And there you have the essence of death witnessing.

    Addison introduces readers to this magic in a sort of mystery plotline within The Goblin Emperor. Witnessing for the dead plays a central step in finding the truth, absolving the innocent, or tracing the guilty. These of course have big narrative implications and opportunities. But death witnessing also leads to smaller ones, particularly in Addison’s novella The Witness for the Dead.

    As powerful as this form of magic is, it’s the least glamorous on this list. And like most great magic systems, there are costs and gambles tied to it. In this case, the costs are primarily emotional and social. Witnesses for the dead get some formal respect but not much popularity. And it will be no surprise that feeling an almost-dead person’s almost-dead experiences won’t usually be fun.

    Combine these elements and you get a magic system with a really unique fit into larger worldbuilding. It has a lived-in feeling to it that makes it deeply believable, but it also inspires a little fear—as most magic truly would in fantasy settings. Readers like me sometimes forget to be awed at the idea of a wizard wielding powers outside what I can harness. Addison’s books bring a lot of that awe back to me.

    4. The One Power | A deceptively named and deceptively fascinating system in Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time

    The One Power is neither one nor solitary. But it is a power, easily ranking number two on this list in terms of raw potential. If you read The Eye of the World, book one in The Wheel of Time, you’ll find magic that feels routine among other epic fantasy of the 80s. Keep reading and you’ll find new layers in almost every following volume.

    First there are fireballs, bolts of lightning, and generic healing spells. Then there’s protective magic and dark lord sealing (also fairly generic). And finally you get faster-than-light travel, mind control, military reconnaissance, the transfer of lava straight from a volcano onto baddies, and lots more.

    Perhaps the biggest weakness in how this system shows up is that the first several books of Wheel of Time ignore magic’s massive logistical impacts. That changes later in the series, especially when Brandon Sanderson gets involved. By the end, The One Power feels widely integrated into how the world works. An equally important strength is that magic users themselves feel valuable and exceptional, even the weaker and less trained ones.

    There’s plenty of room for mages in this system to invent and be smart, as well as to win the day with sheer power. All in all, it’s one of the most accessible and diverse systems to make it into a big series. And like Addison’s death witnessing or Le Guin’s true names, the One Power lends itself well to evoking dread and wonder.

    5. Forging/soulstamping | Brandon Sanderon’s most contemplative and timely magic system

    Speaking of Brandon Sanderson, almost any of his magic systems could make this list. He has come up with several distinct, graspable, and mind-bendingly spectacular ways to utilize magical powers in fantasy worlds. He also makes incredible use of the spelled out (another pun intended) limitations of each system. From allomancy to stormlight to rithmatics, there’s plenty to love.

    Forging, introduced in The Emperor’s Soul, stands out as one of the most deliberate magic systems Sanderson has created. Allomany or stormlight—invaluable as they are in more pedestrian life—see most of their biggest use in colossal struggles like combat between demigod-like mages. Forging is a much slower magecraft in almost all cases shown. It’s a system of using seals (stamps) to imprint the form of something onto an object. This soulstamping process is a bit like imposing an artificial likeness. The nearer the form to the object’s actual nature, the more effectively the forgery takes.

    The plotline of The Emperor’s Soul involves some somewhat desperate forging to survive. It’s also deeply concerned with how artistry and imitation coincide. I’m fairly certain Sanderson wasn’t thinking about generative AI when he wrote this (15 years ago), but it’s deeply relevant today. His recent keynote speech on art and AI reflects some of the same musings, albeit with more concrete outcomes. If you want a thoughtful companion to that speech, take a close look at the forging system.

    And if you simply want a magic system that is fresh, look no farther.

    Honorable mentions: 3 other great magic systems

    Skill and Wit in Robin Hobb’s Realm of the Elderlings

    Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy introduces two seemingly separate but philosophically connected magic systems.There’s the Wit, which is about communication between animals and humans. Then there’s the Skill, which is more or less about the same things from human to human. What makes them stand out so profoundly is the way Hobb ties them to real storytelling stakes.

    Warrens of Magic in Steven Erikson’s Malazan

    Erikson’s system of Warrens is about drawing magical powers from a series of vaguely connected sources. It’s easy enough to follow how it shows up in Erikson’s first books, but it’s intricately layered. Most intriguing of all, there’s a sense of impermanence, given how Warrens shift, get flooded, become the settings for whole subjourneys, and so on. The magic system itself feels as old and as mortal as the rest of the world.

    Sympathy in Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicles

    Sympathy is only one of several distinct magic systems in Rothfuss’s primary work. It’s the most unique and interesting so far, however. The main idea is about energy transfer through sympathetic links—joining like objects together. It’s limited, like virtually everything listed above, but allows endless invention. It’s the sort of magic system a group of DND players would likely break to no end, which is a good sign that it’s useful, multifaceted, and actually fun.


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    About the Author

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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.

  • Top books for readers who love The Lord of the Rings

    Top books for readers who love The Lord of the Rings

    Despite being a lifelong fan of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, I don’t typically go out looking for another work that strikes the same chord. But there are plenty of great books for fans of The Lord of the Rings.

    I’ll be the first to admit being frustrated at the non-Tolkienesque recommendations I receive. “There is only one Lord of the Rings,” as Gandalf says in Peter Jackson’s adaptation of the three-volume epic. My ensuing recommendations are high fantasy or epic fantasy works that evoke a similar sense of beauty, adventure, heroism, depth, and melancholy as J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.

    Take them with your own grain of salt, though. These recommendations draw largely from data I’ve gathered on why readers continue to love The Lord of the Rings. There’s always some personal taste involved as well.

    Here are just seven series that share key similarities—all which stand well on their own merits, it’s worth adding.

    Fusing the ordinary and the very epic: Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Earthsea Cycle (1968 – 2001)

    Cover art for Ursula K. Le Guin's The Books of Earthsea, showing two dragons flying over a lone boat.

    Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Earthsea Cycle follows the coming-of-age journey of a wizard called Sparrowhawk, along with some of his treasure-hunting adventures, his attempts to bring real peace to a war-torn world, and a quest to stop wizardry itself (and all crafts of beauty and power) from disappearing. It’s also a series about the power of being very ordinary.

    Earthsea is one of the most obviously unique of all the works this article discusses. There are, however, so many ways in which reading this series feels like reading The Lord of the Rings.

    For the sake of brevity, here are a few high level items to consider:

    • In Earthsea, as in Middle-earth, magic seems to have touched everything. Yet the omnipresence of magical events has not diluted the power it brings to the page in this high-magic setting.
    • Readers might be fooled into thinking The Lord of the Rings is a long work of fiction. At 575,000 words, it’s about the size of two George R. R. Martin books, 1.25 books in the Stormlight Archive, and the final solitary volume in Tad Williams’s Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn (referenced later on). In short, The Lord of the Rings is short for high fantasy, epic fantasy, or similar genre organizers. And so is The Earthsea Cycle, the entire work spanning less than 500,000 words.
    • Short or not, Earthsea shows Le Guin’s uncanny ability to tell a great story with few pages. This is a skill Tolkien shared too, as noted above.
    • Earthsea is full of minor characters doing seemingly unimportant things. Yes, there are heroics like Aragorn’s or Gandalf’s. But the story’s mostly concerned with more ordinary events. This brings it closer to real life than your standard work of epic fantasy. It also makes it much more harmonious with Tolkien’s own work, which is greatly concerned with ordinary, daily, non-epic goings on.

    Fans of The Lord of the Rings will admire Le Guin’s skill with little things

    This last point might be most Tolkien-like of all: Earthsea’s clearest heroes don’t solve their problems by strength of arms.

    Le Guin meticulously crafts stories in which killing a bad guy doesn’t actually fix the world. Yes, you’ll find epic clashes of armies or magical powers in The Lord of the Rings. Earthsea has some similar moments. Yet it’s in quieter instances and less obvious decisions that both works bring their stories to a point of resolution.

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    Music is magic in The Riddle-Master Trilogy by Patricia McKillip (1976 – 1979)

    Cover art for the Riddle-Master trilogy by Patricia McKillip; a bare tree outlined by snow.

    The Riddle-Master Trilogy by Patricia McKillip tells the story of a young land-heir, swine-herd, beer-brewer, amatuer riddler, would-be-scholar, and prophesied hero all rolled up into one. Along the way, there’s plenty of murderous chasing, ancient riddles, and magical harping to keep readers interested. Much like Middle-Earth, McKillip’s fantasy world is filled to the brim with magic, much of it left almost wholly unexplained.

    In an earlier blog post on underrated works of epic fantasy, I’ve noted Tolkien’s critical influence on McKillip. What’s especially interesting is that McKillip tells such a different story in such a different style than Tolkien, despite numbering him among only a very few speculative fiction writers to shape her early work (Le Guin was another).

    “Tolkien just opened the doors to imagination.”

    —Patricia McKillip, 2010

    Where The Lord of the Rings divides an epic journey up across a party of disparate compatriots, there’s a much lonelier journey going on in The Riddle-Master Trilogy. The main characters—Morgon, Raederle, and Deth—spend a great deal of time alone or with little company around them. Also, much like The Earthsea Cycle mentioned above, there are no Helm’s Deeps or Pelennor Fields with armies fighting on them in this trilogy. Just a wizard or two and a long, well-tuned string of riddles to lure the curious reader forward.

    What feels most Tolkienesque about McKillip’s trilogy is the author’s evident respect for the beauty of the world she created. It’s stunningly unique, even when weighed against the almost 50 years of high fantasy following it. Like Tolkien, McKillip made something that feels too distinct to be properly replicated.

    An epic story with elves, quests, magic swords, and mystical mentors: The Sword of Shannara Trilogy by Terry Brooks (1977 – 1985)

    Cover art for Terry Brooks's The Sword of Shannara Trilogy, showing a magical sword.

    The past two works on the list are less apparent in their Tolkien-like trappings. Terry Brooks wore his clearly from the start of his career.

    The Sword of Shannara Trilogy, which contains three whole, standalone stories, draws on similar plotting, quest structures, and even hero party makeups. It doesn’t feel too fresh upfront, truly. But Brooks’s debut does show a great deal of skill and imagination all the same. Books two and three (and Brooks’s many Shannara stories after that) do a lot to distinguish themselves in their own right.

    Here’s a quick for instance on the similarities. Book one (The Sword of Shannara) follows the quest of a semi-orphaned villager and his adoptive brother as monstrous creatures chase them from their home and they set out to destroy a dark lord. Along their journey, they team up with a mysteriously knowledgeable druid, a dwarf, two bow-wielding elves, and the crown prince of a powerful kingdom that guards the border between the dark lord and the rest of the known world.

    And here’s an example of where Brooks does his own thing: The hero of book one doesn’t succeed through fighting, escaping, or purposefully destroying a magical relic. He succeeds by using truth and paradox to confound the deluded dark lord head on.

    Filled with immense monsters, ancient magic, fast-paced chases, and courageous confrontations of evil, The Sword of Shannara Trilogy embraces the sense of adventure and heroism that so many readers love in The Lord of the Rings. Where Tolkien leans more heavily into lore and detail, Brooks’s very American storytelling is a little more pulpy and action-packed. This makes for a different read than the previous works on the list. It’s one that has resonated with many Tolkien fans in the years since this trilogy helped launch epic fantasy as a commercial, formalized genre in the U.S.

    A work that captures the sorrow of a closing age: Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn by Tad Williams (1988 – 1993)

    Cover art for Tad Williams's The Dragonbone Chair, showing a magical sword hilt.

    Tad Williams has written quite a variety of speculative fiction. To date he is most well-known for his million-word epic trilogy Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn. It’s worth noting that George R. R. Martin is one of the series’s many vocal fans. He particularly credits Williams with influencing him to write his own epic fantasy.

    Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn shares more than one strong similarity with The Lord of the Rings. It’s very much a story about small people (physically and socially) stepping into heroic roles they shouldn’t have to shoulder. It’s also one of the more rigorous of early epic fantasy stories in terms of overall setting and worldbuilding.

    There’s a particularly powerful parallel between Middle-earth and how Williams portrays ancient, magical peoples withdrawing from the world of humans. Much as Tolkien’s elves are leaving the lands of mortals, Williams’s magical races have in many ways already distanced themselves from the doings of humankind. This creates a growing distance between the ordinary world and magical occurrences underway. It also sets readers up for a huge sense of awe whenever pretty much anything magical comes about. Many low-magic series have followed. I have encountered few that bring such a sense of age and scope as Williams’s original trilogy—in a way that feels very much like reading The Lord of the Rings.

    Going epic on epic Fantasy: Steven Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen (1999 – 2011)

    Cover art for Steven Erikson's Gardens of the Moon, the first book in his Malazan series, showing a lone tower lit by moonlight.

    Critics have often called Robert Jordan (author of The Wheel of Time) the American Tolkien because of the size and scope of his massive fantasy story. Don’t forget the Canadian Tolkien, though. His name is Steven Erikson.

    Erikson’s 10-book epic is more often compared to A Song of Ice and Fire than to The Lord of the Rings. It’s hard to find any writer in any genre who rivals Erikson’s depth of world-building (and that includes Tolkien himself).

    Where Tolkien uses his immense knowledge of philology and poetry to inform his worldbuilding, Erikson draws on archeology and anthropology as well. He creates economies, social contracts, militaries, and magic systems that feel incredibly plausible because they follow patterns so identifiable in human history.

    And this is to say nothing of Erikson’s sheer skill with words. Erikson graduated from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, the most celebrated writing program in the world. And he makes his wordsmithing prowess plain from early on in book one of Malazan.

    Critics often describe Erikson as being too challenging for typical fantasy readers today. With a focus on warfare and imperialism, Malazan also sits more on the military fantasy side of the genre spectrum. It’s therefore a departure from the lofty, high fantasy space The Lord of the Rings craved for itself. That said, Erikson’s rich lore, expansive setting, immense cast of characters (god and human alike), and very character-oriented storytelling make his work an excellent fit for the many Tolkien fans who want something epic, well-imagined, and unforgettable.

    A magical mix of everything: The Swan’s War Trilogy by Sean Russell (2001 – 2004)

    Cover art for The One Kingdom by Sean Russell; a stone bridge over a wide gorge.

    Perhaps the least well known series on the list, The Swan’s War trilogy feels like an even amalgamation of the elements in almost all the above series. It follows several converging storylines, including the coming of age journey of a few village boys, a sort of Montagues and Capulets rivalry that goes full-blown medieval war, and the secret quest of an almost roguish wizard.

    I’d venture to guess that author Sean Russell knows one of Tolkien’s oft-forgotten secrets: Don’t explain everything. The Swan’s War trilogy feels almost like a dark fairy tale, when you get deep into it. The lore is less expansive than most items on this list. Yet it still feels deep and awe-inspiring without taking 5000 pages to get there.

    Like in The Fellowship of the Ring, particularly, there’s plenty of chasing and escaping from mysterious forces. Like in The Two Towers or The Return of the King, readers will find interesting stories about royal families, political intrigue, and warfare. And through it all, there are simpler tales about a few young cousins trying to find their way safely home.

    Much like The Lord of the Rings as a whole, Russell’s trilogy is fascinated with landscape and the journey itself. These books present a setting that feels as magical when uninhabited as it does when warring enchanters hunt each other across it. There’s plenty of imagination and adventure as well. But the unique sense of location is perhaps the single item that makes it feel most Tolkien-like.

    Celebrating fellowship: Michael J. Sullivan’s Riyria Revelations (2011 – 2012)

    Book cover for Michael J. Sullivan's epic fantasy novel Theft of Swords.

    Michael J. Sullivan’s six-book trilogy follows the oft-illegal adventures of two companion thieves, Royce and Hadrian. Sometimes they’ll be taking a job to make some quick cash. Sometimes they set out because they’ve been framed for jobs they didn’t do. They always collaborate, however, and their teamwork is part of the appeal.

    Riyria Revelations feels in many ways the most light-hearted and hopeful of the works on this list. Not that dark things don’t happen. They do in every volume. But as in The Lord of the Rings, there’s a present sense of fortitude or even optimism that largely stems from the comradery between its characters. Royce and Hadrian foil each other more blatantly than Frodo and Sam or Gimli and Legolas. The series visits themes of loyalty and fellowship again and again, however, both with its protagonists and with other characters.

    Make no mistake. There are also instances of arcane wizardry, skillful swordplay, epic monstrosities, and the search for lost royalty. Most fantasy readers will find something to like here, The Lords of the Rings fans or not. While Riyria Revelations is less of a bildungsroman than any other work on this list, it still feels relevant and a little classic. But it’s the ever present thread of friendship that feels most relevant to Tolkien.

    A few others worth mentioning

    As mentioned earlier, many Tolkien fans found something new to love in Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time. I see the appeal. It’s a long journey to the end of the series. It’s also the type of expansive tale that couldn’t be told without showing the length of the road from Emond’s Field to Tarmon Gai’don.

    Guy Gavriel Kay is another high fantasy author well worth including on this list. Kay not only writes poetic, distinctive, powerful fantasy on his own. He also played an integral role in bringing The Silmarillion to light.

    I’d also add Kristen Britain’s Green Rider series for consideration. In a similar vein to Terry Brooks, Britain wears many Tolkien influences on her sleeve. Few fantasy writers match her great love of horses—while Tolkien is one who seems to have shared it.

    Last but not least, if you’re a fan of The Lord of the Rings, you can always go read it again. I like to encourage people to try new books. But this is one work that surely has a lot to give over repeat readings. Tolkien’s tomes are full enough that you might find a new story or two there each time.

    Updated May 30, 2026. Post originally published in 2023.


    FAQs

    What books should fans of The Lord of the Rings read?

    Fans of The Lord of the Rings often enjoy fantasy series with similarly immersive settings, rich casts of characters, epic scopes, and thematic depth. These readers often enjoy Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle, Tad Williams’s Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn trilogy, and Terry Brooks’s The Sword of Shannara Trilogy, among other works.

    What books have deep world-building like The Lord of the Rings?

    Few fantasy series have ever come close to the depth of world-building in The Lord of the Rings. Steven Erikson’s Malazan series has a particularly deep scope of history woven into the story. Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time and Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere books are also similar in the complexity and size of their settings.

    What books have epic journeys like in The Lord of the Rings?

    The Lord of the Rings practically invented the subgenre of epic fantasy about long physical journeys. Whether based in a specific quest or a more generic search for adventure, journeys have been a mainstay in epic fantasy ever since. Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time, Patricia McKillip’s The Riddle-Master Trilogy , Terry Brooks’s Shannara series, Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle, and many other series feature stories with long physical journeys at their hearts.


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    About the Author

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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 my violin or wandering in the woods.

  • I wrote a draft of book three

    I wrote a draft of book three

    In December, I completed a draft of book three in The Witherclaw Trilogy. The book is far from finished. I’m not even sure what I’ll title it yet. But it feels a lot more real now than it did a month before, let alone six or 12 months back. And I’m proud to share the news that it will, in fact, be done done (printed, published, all the stuff) before too long.

    While most articles on my blog focus on published books, today I want to share a few reflections and updates on this one.

    A sort of spoiler-free summary of book three

    First thing’s first. If I had to describe the book today—which I sort of have to if I want to finish this article—I’d say something like the following.

    Two years have passed since the Battle of Lilywater. Varan Witherclaw has remained in Foneth all that time, aiding Inorovel in her research and Giovel in the Divine Order’s hunt for witches. Plenty has changed. The Order is on a thin leash, since people are more suspicious of magecraft than ever before. The Optacracy is in a bind, because while Redrem is playing nice now, Lacia isn’t. And on top of it all, there’s something of a plague (which I originally planned for Candle and Claw, but then a global pandemic happened AS I WAS WRITING IT, so I decided it would be too much).

    Last but not least, this book will introduce a new alliance of witches and their battle against the Order for control of an ancient stone glyph Inorovel unearths. Varan will find herself caught in the middle of this conflict, with some serious choices to make about how attached she is (or isn’t) to Foneth and the people who live within it.

    Where Giovel was the hero of Candle and Claw, and Jinaten was the star and Glyph and Glaive, this book will be Varan’s story first and foremost. About time, since I named the trilogy after her.

    Where does this put the series?

    I’ve been calling this The Witherclaw Trilogy for a while. And that hasn’t changed. Book three will offer a clear ending point for all major storylines.

    I might yet write other content in the same world, but for now I have no spinoffs planned, let alone sequels or prequels. I’ve been working steadily on this ending point since 2020—and even beyond, as I’ll describe a little later on. And I’m eager to write some other stories too (more on that to come as well).

    When will book three come out?

    Based on how much work the last two volumes took beyond drafting alone, I’m targeting a release date later in 2027 (between September and November). It’s a bit of a wait, to be sure. I’d love to have it completed and ready sooner, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get all the publishing parts done on time.

    This could always change. For reference, here’s a status report by month to show how quickly (or slowly) this book came together at different times of the year.

    • January 2025: Three chapters complete (a mere 26 pages).
    • February 2025: Four chapters complete in all.
    • March 2025: Eight chapters down! As many in March as the previous two months combined.
    • April 2025: 14 chapters completed. It looked like I was gaining real steam.
    • May 2025: 17 chapters done. Not so much progress.
    • June 2025: 22 chapters down as the year reached its halfway point. I was worried, at this juncture, about finishing a draft by the end of the year (which had long been my goal).
    • July 2025: 28 chapters complete. A little acceleration, despite lots of vacation time without writing at all.
    • August 2025: 37 chapters done. This was a big turning point.
    • September 2025: 50 Chapters done. Even more progress than in August.
    • October 2025: 59 chapters done. It was starting to feel doable.
    • November 2025: 68 chapters done. I knew I could finish by the end of the year.
    • December 2025: 75 chapters done, completing the draft at 599 pages.

    If I can keep a steadiness to my work like I did from August to December, maybe I’ll get this book wrapped up sooner and can release before the current plan.

    As part of the release, however, I’m also hoping to get a few other things out the door:

    • A box set for the whole trilogy
    • Hard cover options for all three books
    • The audiobook for Candle and Claw (which actually I think will be ready well before this book comes out)

    What then?

    I have another series I’m itching to get back to. The first book in that series has a solid draft done already. It will need some work before I release it but might be ready in 2028. These will be shorter, slightly less epic books, but I’m excited to share them.

    I also have several short stories in the works, after taking a near five-year hiatus from short story writing. Fingers crossed that I’ll have a few of those out before book three is totally wrapped.

    Last but not least: My qualitative feelings on book three

    When I was 15, I wrote a novel. It wasn’t amazing. That novel was the story of book three, though. It stuck with me enough that I realized I needed to write a few more books to set it up (enter Candle and Claw and Glyph and Glaive). I did plenty of other things between writing this book the first time and rewriting it now. But it has been an unfinished project since then, more than 20 years back.

    For that reason alone, I’m thrilled to be approaching a true finish line.

    My revisions will mostly involve cutting content from the first half and repositioning material for the third quarter or so. I revised the endings more than anything else in the previous two books. I’m sure I’ll do some of that with this one as well. Less, though, if my sense of it is right. I think the ending is closer to where I want it with this book than it has been with either previous volume. But the finale has been in my mind since well before I started either of those projects, so hopefully it doesn’t need as many tweaks.

    I’m surprised at some of the twists and turns to get to this point. I already feel a strong emotional investment in this one, however. That tends to be a sign that I’m happy with it.

    As I finished writing Candle and Claw over five years ago, I felt I’d arrived somewhere I couldn’t have reached without writing my way there. I feel the same this time. That is what makes me most excited to polish this book and share it with readers next year.


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    About the Author

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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.

  • 5 reasons you should binge Malazan

    5 reasons you should binge Malazan

    Epic fantasy readers talk as if there’s nothing tougher to read than Malazan Book of the Fallen. I’m of the opinion that Malazan is not nearly as challenging as readers claim, but I want to go further in this article. In fact, I want to make the case for why readers should binge Malazan.

    I’d always intended to read the series deliberately. But after staying up all night with the flu and Gardens of the Moon, then eventually reading almost half of House of Chains on a single plane ride, I was convinced of a better way. In fact, binging might be the easiest way to read Malazan.

    Here are the top reasons I recommend reading it fast:

    1. There’s almost no repetition between books in Malazan
    2. Sequential reading will help with recall
    3. Faster reading shines a light on cross-book connections
    4. Quicker reading pairs well with the deceptively fast pace of these books
    5. You’ll still find many complete stories along the way

    What do I mean by binging?

    When I recommend binging Malazan, I’m not talking about listening at triple speed or quitting your day job to finish the next book in the series. I’m talking about reading the books back to back, in short order, with chunks of time dedicated to the process.

    Whether you do this in 30-minute blocks or 4-hour reading parties is up to you. For contrast, however, consider how I first read The Wheel of Time: Slowly. My journey took pauses between the more sluggish volumes (of which there are several). I gave myself ample time to read refreshers between books (as many Malazan readers report doing). I even tried to take time to stew on things and guess where the journey would go next.

    While I enjoyed this approach to Wheel of Time, it brought drawbacks as well. After one volume, I often forgot minor characters, for instance. It was easy to miss details about who was up to what, or how developed some of the macro plots really were. Most of all, it made the series feel even longer than it really is (for better or worse). Which queues up my first reason to read Malazan in a more streamlined way.

    1. There’s almost no repetition between books in Malazan

    Wheel of Time readers get to read the same bits about Domani culture or Two Rivers tabac thirty times before the series ends. This is part of what makes the series accessible, long though it is. Malazan readers won’t get the same benefit. Erikson rarely repeats much world-building or character detail.

    The beauty of binging Malazan is that you get new material with every volume. It’s a lot like The Lord of the Rings in this regard. But even when following characters the reader knows—or literal events that have already unfolded—there’s something spare about the information Erikson doles out. He tends to trust readers to keep details once he has shared them. Sometimes he expects reader recall for tidbits he has only even hinted at.

    Which leads to the second reason to binge this series.

    2. Sequential reading will help with recall

    With 700 named characters, dozens of Paths and Warrens, a plethora of species, and a long history at work, the world of Malaz can be legitimately tough to grasp all at once. Even halfway into the series, I sometimes found myself double checking whether one character was Jaghut or Imass, or whether another character fit my supposed memory of them. The easiest way to digest Erikson’s world-building is to read more. He always gives the information needed for a satisfying character arc or a conclusive arrival. But it takes reader persistence to keep up with it all.

    Reading the books in sequence, without big gaps, is a simple way to stay fresh. I completed all the first four volumes in near marathon-length reading sessions—and it was noticeably simpler to keep up with the craziness when I read more quickly.

    3. Faster reading shines a light on cross-book connections

    I can’t claim to catch nearly all of Erikson’s Easter eggs and foreshadowing hints. Reading in swift sequence has, however, made it much easier for me to see connections between magic systems, races, and key characters.

    Binge-type continuation tees up some big reveals. In particular, it makes it easier to understand which mages have which abilities (something that’s rarely explained in any explicit way) and which members of the pantheon are up to what. At the end of the day, Erikson has created a massive history, in addition to the massive story happening in time with the reader. Careful reading of any type will reveal some of the nuances and connections in this history. Continuous reading at any pace, however, will mitigate the need for incredible precision.

    4. Quicker reading pairs well with the deceptively fast pace of these books

    Malazan is generally fast-paced. It doesn’t always feel like it, but that’s partially because of in medias res storytelling that pulls lots of information into the reader’s head upfront. Across every volume, a lot happens in not so many pages (contrary to the common reader complaint about the series being slow paced).

    There’s not much room left for readers to really catch their breath. But as it happens, reading more quickly actually makes the quick pace of the series easier to navigate.

    Some data

    For reference, I analyzed a sample of just 100 reader reviews to see what average readers said about the pacing in Gardens of the Moon. About 20% said the first several chapters were slow or even tedious. About 40% of readers described the books as fast-paced (a higher number than I expected).

    5. You’ll still find many complete stories along the way

    Some content is bingeable because consumers love the characters. Sometimes it’s a storytelling format that makes it bingeworthy (episodic laughs or a monster-of-the-week structure). For Malazan, there’s a lot of binge power in how each volume delivers a strong story by itself.

    The larger story weaves its way across books, building momentum over time. One of the series’s great strengths, however, is the degree to which each book stands alone. Malazan gives readers a set of full stories in a way few other epic fantasy series come close to offering.

    So, if you choose to binge this series, you can rest assured that the investment begins paying off long before the ending. Even if you stopped halfway through, you would have started and finished several amazing stories by then.

    Conclusion

    No shade on Wheel of Time. Or on some of the really outstanding but unfinished epic fantasy series. Or the ones that are written to refresh readers’ memories all along the way. But if you want to read a huge corpus from start to finish, Malazan is a surprisingly good place to do it.


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    About the Author

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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 top 12 best wizards in fantasy books

    The top 12 best wizards in fantasy books

    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).

    1. Dazen Guile (Lightbringer)
    2. Egwene al’Vere (The Wheel of Time)
    3. FitzChivalry Farseer (The Farseer Trilogy)
    4. Gandalf (The Lord of the Rings)
    5. Ghisteslwchlohm (The Riddle-Master Trilogy)
    6. Gilbert Norrell/Mr Norrell (Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell)
    7. Hermione Granger (Harry Potter)
    8. Jasnah Kholin (The Stormlight Archive)
    9. Mamoru Matsuda (The Sword of Kaigen)
    10. Quick Ben (Malazan)
    11. Sparrowhawk (The Earthsea Cycle)
    12. Sunny Nwazue (Akata Witch)

    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 Majere or 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

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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 Earthsea Cycle: On par with any fantasy series

    The Earthsea Cycle: On par with any fantasy series

    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:

    Mile-High Background on The Earthsea Cycle

    An immense dragon staring down a wizard in a boat. Scene from A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin.
    Art by
    mattforsyth

    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

    Art by
    ajinak

    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 Trilogy as 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 top 5 reasons readers love Brandon Sanderson’s Wind and Truth

    The top 5 reasons readers love Brandon Sanderson’s Wind and Truth

    If you follow epic fantasy book news, you’ve probably heard a thing or two about Brandon Sanderson’s Wind and Truth. This is the partial finale, a rest stop halfway through his longest and most epic series yet, so the pressure has been high for him to deliver something monumental and amazing. I have yet to finish the book (which I am enjoying), but here are five things other readers love about Wind and Truth, along with my perspective.

    My analysis comes from 200 voluntary, positive reader reviews, which I regard as primary data on what they really think. There’s plenty that fans are liking. Numerous reviews (I didn’t count on this front) mention losing sleep to finish this volume, for instance. Others bemoaned having to wait several more years before The Stormlight Archive continues. All in all, it’s an earnest, grateful response.

    Here’s the data, broken down.

    Data on why readers love Brandon Sanderson's Wind and Truth.

    1. Readers love the world-building in Wind and Truth

    Out of 200 reviews, 181 eagerly mentioned Sanderson’s world-building. This will surprise…no one.

    Fans have noted Sanderson’s interesting world-building since his debut, 20 years ago. He gives readers plenty of world-building detail. He shows interesting settings and set pieces. He draws from a well-thought out lore. His larger works also delve into multiple distinctive cultures and humanoid/intelligent races. Wind and Truth, for instance, features prominent characters of at least three (and possibly more) unique biological origins. And none of them are elves, goblins, or dwarves.

    Most notably, Sanderson has a) created settings that don’t fully parallel earth (which is rare in mainstream fantasy), and b) has come up with numerous complex magic systems that readers love. And to cap it off, Sanderson has built and interconnected series of worlds, joining multiple settings, multiple stories (of multiple volumes), with easter eggs and rewards for the readers who pick up on these connections.

    This is a different flavor of world-building than fans find with Robert Jordan or N. K. Jemisin, but it works for so many epic fantasy readers. While my analysis doesn’t make it possible to truly weight this against the other top reasons, this is clearly the most common cause that readers tip their hats to Sanderson’s storytelling skill.

    My thoughts: I particularly appreciate Sanderson’s willingness to depart from earth-analog settings. There’s so much space to do this in fantasy (as he has often commented), but not many writers try it seriously. I rarely get excited over world-building, but Sanderson is one writer who has really made it work for me.

    2. Sanderson fans rave about his characters

    From the 200 analyzed reviews, 170 praise Sanderson’s characters. Readers have a lot to say on this front.

    They enjoy the sense of character growth. Or they get angry and excited alike about messy relationships. Fans also comment on the top moments for their favorite characters (Kaladin, Dalinar, Syl, and Lift are some of the ones mentioned most often in these reviews). They share a sense of catharsis for the internal struggles these characters endure. And readers generally applaud the journeys characters take to reach the end of this story.

    Characterization, particularly where growth arcs are concerned, clearly carries more weight with most readers than worldbuilding does. Readers have long shared unique appreciation for Sanderson’s inclusion of neurodivergent characters, as one example. His characters confronting their own mental health are also recurring favorites. And reviewers also tend to love the relatability of Sanderson’s characters, particularly the ones who get point of view (POV) attention.

    My thoughts: Sanderson stays close to his characters. He gets in their heads, dwells on their concerns, lets the reader see how they perceive the world. Their internal dialogue is an active participant in the story. This adds to total word count, no doubt. But it’s a sure fire way to engage readers, and I’m always here for that side of his writing.

    3. Sanderson’s plotting continues to impress

    As with most of his fans’ favorites, Sanderson has delivered a plot that readers really buy into. 152 of 200 Wind and Truth reviews commented on this.

    Most report enjoying the pacing—regardless of the book’s length—and being surprised (if not SHOCKED), relieved, and hooked by the trajectory the story takes. There’s also something to be said for the clarity of the plot. Readers report understanding the impact of big twists, remembering key information they needed to follow, and generally feeling fairly well anchored as the plot progresses.

    And yes, for any readers wondering, it sounds as if there’s plenty of Sanderlanche to go around in Wind and Truth.

    My thoughts: Sanderson consistently builds in reminders of details previously shared. This adds to the length but lowers the learning curve for his books, particular where plot is concerned. It also makes his plots less labyrinthine, letting readers tease out key events beforehand and enjoy the rewards of figuring things out in advance. I don’t always love this, personally, but I might just be in the minority based on these reviews.

    4. Readers love Sanderson’s magic systems

    Interesting uses of and rules for magic were some of the first things readers noted about Sanderson’s early writing. And he has leaned into it more and more through the years. 144 reviews shared their appreciation for Sanderson’s unique and graspable magic systems.

    One of the interesting threads here is the influence of magic on plot and character. Many reviews make the case that Sanderson has connected his character journeys, settings, and plot threads to his magic systems, ensuring that magic is an integral part of the story (and not just ornamentation for it).

    My thoughts: This is one of the areas Sanderson most shines and most merits his hype. I think about it like Broadway shows where the music is just there for fun and has no bearing on the story. Plenty of fantasy authors bake magic in this way. But then there are musicals where the songs are the story. If Sanderson ever wrote a musical (and no one should be startled if he someday does), I’m betting he’ll write this second kind. He has been consistently good at tying magical events and rules into the actual heart of his stories, and fantasy needs more of this.

    5. Readers find a lot to love in the book’s core themes

    Sanderson has always been a hopeful writer, especially when compared to peer authors (think Scott Lynch, Joe Abercrombie, Richard Morgan, and Brian Ruckley, all who debuted around the same time as Sanderson). 20 years later, readers continue to appreciate his increasingly introspective approach to core themes. 130 of 200 reviews mentioned depth, thematic complexity, or Sanderson’s internal philosophizing as a winning point for them.

    My thoughts: With perhaps the exception of his first Mistborn novel, I see Stormlight as Sanderson’s most philosophical work. But I’ve found Wind and Truth to be less subtle than the past four books (and there are plenty of fantasy authors with more subtlety to begin with). So I was encouraged to see how many readers praised this side of Sanderson’s finale. My worry was that it would be more like Memory of Light ***potential Wheel of Time spoilers ahead *** in which the scope of the conflict handily drowns out some of the series’ most interesting introspection. *** end of spoilers ***

    Fingers crossed that reviewers are not just baiting me here.

    My perspective overall

    Well, I’m only halfway through Wind and Truth. The Way of Kings has long been my favorite book in the series, and I don’t see that changing here. But perhaps in another few weeks I’ll have more to say.

    So for reference to a book I have finished reading, here’s a quick contrast with a light analysis I did on The Way of Kings last year. The following are the top five items (found in 100 reviews) that other readers loved about The Way of Kings.

    1. Epic scope and world-building: 85/100
    2. Interesting and well-drawn characters: 78/100
    3. Digestible writing style: 70/100
    4. Engaging plotting: 65/100
    5. Thematic depth: 53/100

    My methods of analysis

    As with a few other reader data articles I’ve written, my approach is based on a coded verbal analysis of voluntary reviews. I spell my process out in some depth here. In this case, however, I used ChatGPT to code the data and manually went through a sample of 50 reviews to check the coding schema for accuracy. I’m also showing just the top 5 reasons here, as opposed to the 10 I shared for The Lord of the Rings.


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    About the Author

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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.

  • 6 SFF trilogies where the middle book shines brightest

    6 SFF trilogies where the middle book shines brightest

    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.

    I’ve been reflecting on this as I finished writing a middle book for the first time, and I continue to be impressed with trilogies where book two truly sticks the landing.

    Here are a few favorites of mine:

    The Dark Forest by Cixin Liu | Remembrance of Earth’s Past

    book cover for Cixin Liu's The Dark Forest, the middle book in the Remembrance of Earth's Past trilogy

    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

    book cover for Brandon Sanderson's The Well of Ascension, the middle book in the 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

    book cover for Royal Assassin by Robin Hobb, the middle book in 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

    Cover art for epic fantasy novel Eldest by Christopher Paolini.

    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

    cover art for The Elftsones of Shannara by Terry Brooks, the middle book in 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

    cover art for Anne McCaffrey's Dragonsinger, the middle book in 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

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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.

  • Murtagh brings Inheritance sequel energy in the best way

    Murtagh brings Inheritance sequel energy in the best way

    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

    Murtagh and Thorn, fan art
    Art by Apljck

    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

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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.

  • Craft of Writing: How Naomi Novik Uses Straightforward Exposition to Guide Readers

    Craft of Writing: How Naomi Novik Uses Straightforward Exposition to Guide Readers

    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.


    Further reading: Actual Data on Why People Love The Lord of the Rings

    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

    Headshot of epic fantasy author Stephen Taylor.

    Stephen Taylor is the author of The Witherclaw Trilogy as 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.

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