It kind of slipped my mind. See, I’ve spent the last few months traveling with Francis Crawford of Lymond.
There’s so much I want to say:
I want to discourse at length on three words - “I don’t mind.” - as spoken in The Disorderly Knights, on why the scene of which they are the lynchpin became my instant favorite as I read it, and on why that judgment only deepened after I finished the entire series.
I want to discuss, from both a reader’s and a writer’s perspective, the importance of supporting characters. Not just “characters who play an important but secondary role in the plot,” but truly supporting characters: the characters who make it their mission in life to support the main characters. In other words, a prose ode to the men of Saint Mary’s, with pride of place given to Adam Blacklock and Archie Abernethy. (Daniel Hislop fans may also present their case.)
I want to start what I think (only half facetiously) could be a very illuminating debate: “Granting that they both richly deserve it, whom do you want to punch more: Jerrott or Marthe?”
I want to announce that I love the ending of Pawn in Frankincense, and then let you all call me a horrible person.
I want to explore the whole concept of the supernatural as Ms. Dunnett presents it, from religion to the occult, and how it relates to her views on marriage.
I want to talk about Sybilla. Oh, how I want to talk about Sybilla.
That’s just for starters. But I can’t do any of it. You see, I had the great good fortune to come to these books blind (and that word, right there, is intentionally loaded). Someone I trust gave me The Game of Kings and essentially said, “Read this. You won’t be sorry.” So I read it. I admit I found it rough going at first (and there’s another thing I want to discuss: Should the central narrative thrust of Kings have been made apparent earlier, to give us some sort of foothold in navigating this new world? Or is the delayed revelation ultimately necessary to the structure of the whole six-volume work?). But trust kept me going, and then in the courtyard at Threave I surrendered utterly and signed up for the whole voyage.
I tried to stay away from comments and reviews while I read, for it became apparent very early that this is a story built to astonish, in every sense. I intend to go back now, and relish it differently, but the first encounter should, by rights, be on Ms. Dunnett’s terms.
And that’s why I don’t want to post anything. Because I can preface with all of the spoiler warnings I want, but it would still be out there, and I don’t want even to risk ruining for some unknown reader-of-the-future the end of part four of Checkmate. But how do you talk about Lymond without talking about that?
Sometimes you can’t say “Read this because…” You can only say “Read this, and the ‘because’ will become apparent.” The Lymond Chronicles are an experience for solitude, and a favorite chair. They require, as their hero does, an extraordinary trust.
So really, all this post can be is a long “Thank you” to the person who, five months ago, put the first volume into my hands. Who reminded me that the best way to discover a story is to receive it, in trust, from a kindred spirit.
And I’d better stop now, or I won’t be able to resist bringing up Austin Grey...
