City of Last Chances

De: Adrian Tchaikovsky

Narrado por: David Thorpe

Arthur C. Clarke winner and Sunday Times bestseller Adrian Tchaikovsky's triumphant return to fantasy with a darkly inventive portrait of a city under occupation and on the verge of revolution.

There has always been a darkness to Ilmar, but never more so than now. The city chafes under the heavy hand of the Palleseen occupation, the choke-hold of its criminal underworld, the boot of its factory owners, the weight of its wretched poor and the burden of its ancient curse.

What will be the spark that lights the conflagration?

Despite the city's refugees, wanderers, murderers, madmen, fanatics and thieves, the catalyst, as always, will be the Anchorwood–that dark grove of trees, that primeval remnant, that portal, when the moon is full, to strange and distant shores.

Ilmar, some say, is the worst place in the world and the gateway to a thousand worse places.

Ilmar, City of Long Shadows.

City of Bad Decisions.

City of Last Chances.

©2022 Adrian Tchaikovsky (P)2022 Head of Zeus

In Pursuit of Perfection, Liberty, or a McGuffin

Pity the Palleseen! Three years ago, the Pals brought their “Perfection” (Correct Speech, Conduct, Exchange, Erudition, and Appreciation) to Ilmar, deposing the former corrupt (and cursed!) Duke and putting the city under their “Sway” by occupying it. An equilibrium had been established: the local Gownhall Maestros (university professors), Armigers (aristos), Siblingries (unions), Lodges (crime families), Resistance (rivalrous factions), and Refugees (foreigners from other cultures) all reached a livable accommodation with the occupiers, putting up with constraints on liberty and changes to their history and culture in exchange for business pretty much as usual (e.g., Armiger industrialists exploiting workers as under the old Duke).

But as the novel begins, that three-year stability is threatened by the death of a high-ranking Pal trying to blaze a trail through the Anchorwood, a portal to other realms and perhaps worlds (its use by desperate people to escape Ilmar is why the city’s nicknamed City of Last Chances) so as to further his career by providing new places for the Pals to Perfect. Before he entered the Anchorwood, his puissant magical ward meant to protect him from its dangers had been stolen, and now various shady types, criminal elements, and occupation officials are searching for the thief and or the McGuffin, and the Pals’ heavy-handed tactics have outraged some students into singing songs and talking Revolution. And isn’t Ilmar’s haunted district, the Reproach, getting more active lately?

Tchaikovsky tells his story from multiple points of view (some of which recur, others of which come and go), among them:

*Yasnic the last priest (and last follower) of “God,” a dirty, ever shrinking, and presumed long-dead divinity with the power to heal, but only when the subjects are true believers, swearing an oath to never again to do harm or to let harm be done through them;

*Ruslav the thug bravo of the Vultures crime family, living violently while engaging in a series of romantic pursuits;

*Lemya the naïve, idealistic student, dreaming of sparking a revolution and idolizing her teacher;

*Maestro Ivarn Ostravar, inspiring his students with heroic poems while conniving with the occupation police to acquire valuable artifacts for his collection;

*Blackmane the massive, daunting Allorwen refugee sorcerer pawnbroker who gets his hands on fake or real stolen magical artifacts;

Fleance, the young riverman who finds himself in a world of trouble;

*Langrice the resourceful, unflappable keeper of the Anchorage (the neutral bar at the Anchorwoods);

*Jem the overlooked Divinati refugee bartender at the Anchorage who’s been exiled from her truly perfect if stagnant utopia;

*Hellgram the alien soldier from a world of war that makes Ilmar’s world look like a peace park, searching for his lost wife while working at the Anchorage as bouncer/janitor;

*Father Orvechin the seasoned leader of a factory Siblingry who wants the demons powering the machines and the humans working them to stay in line but is ready to “wield the hammer” to improve working conditions;

*Fellow-Inquirer Hegelsy, a Pallesen official who wants to maintain (and increase) perfection in Ilmar by any means necessary;

*Sage-Invigilator Culvern, Perfector of Ilmar, who discovers that wielding power in Ilmar is not without unforeseen costs;

*And many more.

As in others of his novels, Tchaikovsky relishes variety, creating different kinds of people from different kinds of classes and cultures and existential categories. One common theme here with his other works of sf and fantasy is the difficult but vital need to be open to difference, to try to understand the other (rather than to try to subjugate or kill it). Tchaikovsky likes to put his flawed characters in challenging situations, moments of crisis where they rise or fall to the occasion, testing their moral fortitude, faith, and so on, setting the diverse people on collision courses with each other in unpredictable dramatic action set piece scenes.

This is a fantasy novel, so there are demons, ghosts, gods, curses, magical artifacts, portals to Elsewhere (or Nowhere), and more. Probably he’s just getting started world building in this first book in his trilogy, and I can imagine him interestingly developing the next two books, like, for instance, demonstrating on site what the Infernal Realms are and how they work, or visiting Hellgram’s hellish world of war, or doing more with the game “Chaq, that ancient clash of tiles and symbols of obscure origin.” He takes tired fantasy (or sf) tropes and treats them unexpectedly or freshly, as in his use of demons to power factory machines or work as prostitutes. Magic here is a kind of energy that may be decanted from artifacts and people of power and then put into charges for batons (firearms), lamps, and engines. And the haunted Reproach and its ruin-divers remind me of the Zone and its stalkers in the Strugatskis’ Roadside Picnic, albeit supernaturally rather than science fictionally uncanny.

Throughout, Tchaikovsky’s tone is drily ironic, a winking, twinkling eye, as he propels his characters to the climax, picking up speed as he goes. And he works in some great surprises/reveals at climax points amidst all the graphic action scenes. It’s entertaining in a bleak and political way. I like his humor.

He writes plenty of funny, cool lines, like “…the Palleseen valued moderation in all things except ideology,” “They felt like cats tasked to watch a painted mouse hole,” and “Ilmar was where religions went to decompose.”

And vivid, cool descriptions, like “Face hollow, hair greying before it should, thinning, creeping back from his temples like an army that, seeing its opposition is time, no longer has the will to fight,” and “… a single room defined by the slope of the roof, so that only a homunculus could have stood upright at the edges.”

Audiobook reader David Thorpe nails Tchaikovsky’s wry tone and reads all the different characters with panache (especially the suppurating Perfector and the pedantic Inquirer).

I suppose Tchaikovsky’s use of magic (e.g., the appearing and disappearing of the Indwellers or the opening and closing of the Anchorwood) may too often let him do Whatever He Wants for the Plot, and I’m not quite sure the McGuffin ward is so convincing in its supposedly awesome power, but I’m looking forward to the next books in the trilogy!