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Guy Gavriel Kay knows how to write, and this book is no exception to that - the turns of phrase, the characters and the scenes all shine with the same brightness I found while reading Tigana and the Lions of Al-Rassan. But. But, but but. There are a few awkward stumblings, and a few moments which pulled this book out of the clutches of being of the same level of quality as Tigana and The Lions of Al-Rassan to me.

As will be the norm with all but a few of GGK's books, we find ourselves in a world both familiar and foreign, this time taking its aesthetic and thematic cues from troubadour-infested Languedoc of the 12-13th century. Courteous love, the push and pull of desire and respectability, romantic chivalry, poetry and song are all along for the ride, and happily so. GGK likes his artistic bent to his writing, cheerfully advancing the plot and helping us to understand the characters of his stories through the songs and poems he includes.

With the mood in mind, we need to also look at the underlying themes, and of the ones one could pull from the novel, what stands out to me is the idea of the weight of the past. Many of the characters in A Song for Arbonne are weighed down by their past decisions, by choices they made, and the wounds left thereafter. And what's especially interesting is how many of these characters don't go through the classic narrative arc of getting over their past within the story of the book, and in fact I wonder if any get past it at all, with the exception of exactly two characters who die immediately after they reach that point. Because as people do we ever really get over what we have done or has been done to us? It's a refreshingly honest portrayal.

Of the characters, I found myself quite liking the mercenary Blaise and Duke Bertran - characters which are very much alike, yet polar opposites. One a sword-for-hire rejecting his "given role" in life, the other a powerful noble fully taking on his own role. One stern and reserved, the other fully embracing the joyful hedonism of troubadour culture. Of the two, we only get the POV of Blaise, and it makes for an interesting contrast of characters, leaving us to wonder at a lot of what Bertran shows to the world.

Now, I mentioned "stumblings" earlier, and these stumblings are what makes A Song for Arbonne a less successful book in my eyes than Tigana or the Lions of Al-Rassan. The first of these is the introduction of the antagonistic faction of the story. From two other readings of GGK I had really enjoyed how there is not necessarily a side which is the "good" side. Sure, there are groups you may root for, but arguments could be made for the "bad guys" being in the right. In A Song for Arbonne, the intro of the antagonists gave me whiplash from how clearly and grossly evil they were. Ademar, the king of Gorhaut, is just the icky-est individual, and Geralt de Gersanc, the High Elder of Corannos gave me the impression of being that kid in school who claimed to be performing "social experiments" whenever he was called out on his bullshit. There is no nuane, no room for discussion of the merits of one side over the other. Arbonne is good, Gorhaut is bad (save for the exception of Fulk, Rosala and Blaise).

The other issue I had with the book was that the ending felt very "telenovela". Too many coincidences, too many surprise reveals. Some of those reveals needed to happen, one was completely out of the blue and actually made me groan.

I still recommend the book - in fact once I was finished I ordered every Guy Gavriel Kay book I didn't own. But it is definitely not his best to my taste.

Guy Gavriel Kay continues to be an author of rare talent, with a voice which is very much his own.

As with many of GGK's works, we find ourselves in a setting analogous to real world history, but twisted so as to allow him the freedom to develop the story whichever way he wishes. In this stand-alone novel the setting is reminiscent of the end days of Al-Andalus and Muslim-ruled Spain, and that idea of "the end days" is at the centre of it all.

That theme - "the end days". This idea of moments of beauty which cannot last, no matter how we try, permeates every aspect of the book from start to finish, whether it be in a larger, more historic scale, or even when relating to the relationships formed. Moments of wonder, made bittersweet by their ephemeral nature, but cherished all the more for it. "The deeds of men, as footprints in the desert. Nothing under the circling moons is fated to last. Even the sun goes down."

Added to that theme is Guy Gavriel Kay's signature writing style - descriptive, both up close and distant from events. Omniscient at times, limited when it helps build tension. To me it always feels like he is the narrator of a play talking to the audience, with turns of phrase which make scenes feel like more than just part of a story, but almost mythical in nature.

I highly recommend giving this book a try. It's a stand alone, the prose is beautiful, and the story relatable.

Guy Gavriel Kay continues to be an author of rare talent, with a voice which is very much his own.

As with many of GGK's works, we find ourselves in a setting analogous to real world history, but twisted so as to allow him the freedom to develop the story whichever way he wishes. In this stand-alone novel the setting is reminiscent of the end days of Al-Andalus and Muslim-ruled Spain, and that idea of "the end days" is at the centre of it all.

That theme - "the end days". This idea of moments of beauty which cannot last, no matter how we try, permeates every aspect of the book from start to finish, whether it be in a larger, more historic scale, or even when relating to the relationships formed. Moments of wonder, made bittersweet by their ephemeral nature, but cherished all the more for it. "The deeds of men, as footprints in the desert. Nothing under the circling moons is fated to last. Even the sun goes down."

Added to that theme is Guy Gavriel Kay's signature writing style - descriptive, both up close and distant from events. Omniscient at times, limited when it helps build tension. To me it always feels like he is the narrator of a play talking to the audience, with turns of phrase which make scenes feel like more than just part of a story, but almost mythical in nature.

I highly recommend giving this book a try. It's a stand alone, the prose is beautiful, and the story relatable.