The Darkest Road by Guy Gavriel Kay

The Darkest Road by Guy Gavriel Kay


My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Ah. Slow exhale. The end of the trilogy, and the final confrontation of light against dark.

Two contradictory reactions here: on the one hand, that was wrenching and beautiful, with intricate, soaring language to carry me through great bravery and tragedy. And I was, at one point, leaking tears as I walked down the street today. Hint: do not read the last quarter of this book in audio while going about the public portions of your day.

On the other hand, there is something in this book that runs counter to the way I ingest stories. Take Arthur and Guinevere and Lancelot. I am on the one hand touched by the interlocked, endlessly repeating tragedy of their triangle. On the other hand, I could also be overheard to snarl, oh my God, people, just have a fucking threesome. Jesus!

I'm being flip, but I'm also not. Because it turns out my orientation as a reader of this kind of story – the kind that layers myth and history and tale – is deconstructive. You're all shocked, I know. And these books are not deconstructive. Nearly the opposite, actually, because Kay's project is to exult in the fundamental essences of the old stories, to find their uttermost extremities of glory and grief and write them anew, and beautifully. But to affirm them, even as he allows their endings to change a bit sometimes. And that's just not how I roll these days.

So if you're looking for a traditional epic, and an epic beautifully told, then go forth. But if you're looking for something earthy and source critical, something like George R.R. Martin or maybe Abercrombie, this isn't so much the thing.

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