Review: Tigana

Guy Gavriel Kay, a Canadian author with a dozen published manuscripts under his belt, has established himself as an author of “historical fiction,” or at least that’s the description often given to his novels. Tigana, set in a fictionalized version of medieval Italy, continues this tradition. The Palm is a peninsula occupied by nine provinces, led by noble families through decades or centuries of strife and warfare. The entire peninsula was overrun twenty years past by two conquering sorcerers, with only one island country managing to preserve its freedom from the pair’s oppressive rule. The dueling oppressors, Brandin, King of Ygrath, and Alberico, a warlord from the  empire of Barbadior, have settled into a uneasy detente after two decades. The story revolves around a diverse cast of characters, dedicated to restoring free rule to the Palm, but the the novel’s true focus is the painful series of events that have cascaded from the death of Brandin’s son in battle; as punishment for the death of his child, Brandin of Ygrath has utterly annihilated the memory of Tigana, the province where his son was felled. Brandin has destroyed Tigana’s history, leveled its cities, exterminated its citizens, and woven an enchantment so immense that even the name of the country can no longer be heard. King Brandin’s ruthless act of vengeance is the backdrop for Guy Gavriel Kay’s moving study of forgiveness, redemption, and freedom.

Tigana combines two very different narratives. The first, following the bard Devin and his adventures with the budding rebellion, is the more action-oriented of the stories and reads more like a traditional fantasy. We meet most of the characters and see most of the world through the eyes of Devin and the others he travels with: most importantly Alessan, Prince of the almost forgotten Tigana, and his trusted companions, the solemn Baerd and the fiery Catriana. Prince Alessan is the leader of the resistance, and the story does an excellent job of showing the depth of his resolve, even when the odds against victory seem ludicrous. I was strongly reminded of the first novel of Brandon Sanderson’s excellent Mistborn trilogy; both novels tell the story of a small band of individuals working to overthrow an impossibly powerful tyrant. The second half of the novel tells the tale of Dianora, another child of Tigana, also fighting for her eradicated homeland. Without weapons or martial strength, Dianora has instead used the only tools she has available, beauty and intelligence, positioning herself in the proverbial lion’s lair of Brandin’s harem. Trapped in an isolated palace life, this half of the novel is less excitement, more intrigue and character interaction; through her eyes, we see Brandin’s world and come to understand his feelings. Guy Gavriel Kay does an excellent job balancing these two unequal halves, but the novel can sometimes feel a bit fractured, especially seeing as the two story lines do not meet until very late in the book.

Characterization is definitely Tigana’s strongest point, and the characters shine. Each person’s motives are interesting and every character, whether they serve as antagonist or protagonist, will take actions that will give the reader pause. The only exception to this general rule is the warlord Alberico, mostly portrayed as a vicious and unsympathetic tyrant. Almost all of the characters are a difficult-to-absorb blending of blacks and whites, kindness and cruelty. Especially with the care given to show the duality of Brandin (and believe me, the measures of both his nobility and his depravity are fully explored as the novel progresses), Kay’s decision to present Alberico as a purely villainous character is a bit puzzling. That said, the steady unveiling of each character’s true motivations is marvelous and never feels forced simply for the plot’s convenience, especially Dianora, struggling with her lifelong hatred of Brandin as a tyrant and her growing love for him as an intelligent and deeply emotional man. If Dianora’s half of the story can feel a bit underweight when it comes to action, then Devin’s story is the half that weighs lighter in terms of characterization. Perhaps because the reader sees Dianora’s surroundings so intimately, Devin feels a bit like an outsider for the greater part of the novel (something Guy wisely includes in Devin’s own thoughts), but the relationships he forms with his companions helps to maintain the balance.

Guy Gavriel Kay keeps the reader interested until the very last page; Tigana’s plot is complex, and the characters’ decisions are never as certain as you’d like to imagine. The action may be a bit start-and-stop, given the split between two very different circumstances, but once the story begins rolling, the novel is difficult to put down. While following the two narratives, the nine provinces’ populations and traditions create a rich tapestry that is quite intriguing, and I wonder where medieval Italy’s culture ends and The Palm’s begins. Guy uses powerful foreshadowing while escalating to climactic scenes–there are several heart-stopping moments–which can ratchet up the tension, even when moving through a slower portion of the tale. At times, Tigana feels a bit melodramatic, especially with the focus on the characters’ emotions, but it never descends to the level of soap opera fantasy, and Guy Gavriel Kay is not weaving an epic fantasy tale; this is a character-driven, emotional journey, and Guy allows each character’s internal conflicts to be reflected in an accurate manner. This is not Kay’s first novel: after assisting Christopher Tolkien with the editing of his father’s unfinished The Silmarillion, he wrote the Fionavar trilogy. His experience is apparent, as the strong writing helps to iron out any uneven spots in Tigana’s 700 pages, leaving a story that is both thoughtful and exciting, even when tying together very disparate elements.

Guy Gavriel Kay’s novels are commonly categorized as historical fantasy, and having read Tigana, I would disagree. While he has certainly drawn from the history of medieval Italy to form the Palm’s warring provinces, Kay is not tethered to a historical Europe in the way that a novel like Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell: A Novel or Westerfeld’s Leviathan would be; instead, he has used Italy as a thematic inspiration in creating a completely original setting. Anyone hoping to read about medieval Italy, only with dragons / sorcerers / faeries, is going to be sorely disappointed. That said, Tigana is a powerfully moving (heart-wrenching, at times) window into the lives of people driven by the entire gamut of human emotion, whether it be hatred or hope, revenge or redemption, sorrow or joy. Clashing armies and desperate combats have their place in this story, but at its core, Tigana concerns itself with the human spirit and the fickle needs of the human heart. Highly recommended.

Plot: 8.5
Characters: 9.5
Action: 7.5
Writing: 9

Overall (not an average): 9/10