*The Terror of Constantinople*, a novel by Richard Blake, Reviewed by L. Neil Smith
Attribute to The Libertarian Enterprise
In this second of what will eventually be three novels narrated by Aelric, a young British "barbarian" and witness to a rapidly decaying classical world, Richard Blake takes us from the dilapidated Rome of his first book, Conspiracies of Rome, to the second seat of Roman power, originally known as Byzantium, renamed Constantinople when attempts were made to transform it into the center of all Christendom. Of course it was destined, eventually, to become the Moslem city, Istanbul.
Aelric is far from a passive observer. His ostensible mission is to collect books from dying libraries and get them to England, where they can be copied so that the knowledge within them isn’t lost. But it’s a rough world out there, full of violence and intrigue, of which Aelric finds his full share as a hard drinker, womanizer, brawler, and sword-fighter.
The stories are told by a 95-year-old Aelric, looking back on his adventures in the early 600s. One of the things I like best about him is that he doesn’t regret the way he used his life, but savors his memories of the others he crossed paths with and the loves he won and lost. He begins as a naive boy, raised by a single mother, educated by an ancient priest, and acquires sophistication and polish—and a high degree of cynicism—as he moves through a world that is falling apart.
Blake’s books are more than merely action-adventure potboilers, though. Their principal freight is the politics of the day, highly complicated and deadly. Not surprisingly, they aren’t that different from today’s politics—ask Nancy Pelosi, currently (and deservedly) being keelhauled by those she obviously believed were her friends and allies. Figuring out whose side any given individual is on, who is lying and who is telling the truth, who genuinely wishes Aelric well and who wants to use or destroy him keeps the reader on his mental toes.
But so far, I have failed to mention what makes these books so wonderful. Being a big fan of David Suchet’s Hercule Poirot, I tried reading an Agatha Christie novel and discovered (to my disappointment) why they are so popular and so frequently adapted to movies and television: they are oddly empty, mere sketches or outlines, containing very little detail. Readers—most of whom listened to radio where the same faculties were called for—were free to fill in the background, the foreground, and the middle ground to their own taste.
Writers and directors could do the same and make the stories their own.
Turns out that’s not what I look for in a novel. "Richly textured" is the cliche reviewers tend to fall back on. Blake gives us a world full of details, the drape of fabric, the smell of spoiled wine, the feel of blood dripping down one’s knife-injured arm (and being glad it didn’t get on one’s expensive sleeve), the necessity of stepping over dead bodies lying in the street every morning in cities full of crime, disease, and starvation. All of that sounds very unpleasant, but it forms the ground against which vastly more enjoyable figures present themselves.
Blake’s books are so thorough in this respect that they easily bear one, two, three rereadings and more (this was Theodore Sturgeon’s definition of a good story), during which the reader notices little ruffles and flourishes he or she didn’t catch the first or second time.
Add to that a thoroughly humane outlook as warm and forgiving as any Nero Wolfe novel, a wry and sometimes silly sense of humor, and a sensibility suspicious of—and hostile toward—accumulated power, and you have pretty much the perfect diversion, an escape from the increasing ugliness of our own times to an earlier era that was, perhaps, no less ugly, but which we know, at least, our species survived.
When I was a kid in junior high school, I was fascinated with everything about ancient Rome. With the slightest encouragement, I could rattle off an outline of Roman history I had compiled myself (this was long before Google or Wikipedia) from 753 B.C., the official founding date, to 410 A.D. when the Visigoths moved in and there went the neighborhood. I knew little or nothing about what came afterward, so I am indebted to Blake for making my continued education so enjoyable.
I’m told that Blake’s third book takes our young hero to Egypt, so order the first two by clicking the Amazon.com links below and look forward, as I am, to the lives and loves and further adventures of Aelric the British "barbarian".
Four-time Prometheus Award-winner L. Neil Smith has been called one of the world’s foremost authorities on the ethics of self-defense. He is the author of more than 25 books, including The American Zone, Forge of the Elders, Pallas, The Probability Broach, Hope (with Aaron Zelman), and his collected articles and speeches, Lever Action, all of which may be purchased through his website "The Webley Page" at lneilsmith.org.
Ceres, an exciting sequel to Neil’s 1993 Ngu family novel Pallas is currently running as a free weekly serial at www.bigheadpress.com/lneilsmith/?page_id=53
Neil is presently at work on Ares, the middle volume of the epic Ngu Family Cycle, and on What Libertarians Believe with his daughter, Rylla.
See stunning full-color graphic-novelizations of The Probability Broach and Roswell, Texas which feature the art of Scott Bieser at www.BigHeadPress.com Dead-tree versions may be had through the publisher, or at http://www.Amazon.com where you will also find Phoenix Pick editions of some of Neil’s earlier novels.
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Interesting stuff. I like the Classical World but haven’t read any Richard Blake novels. I like the idea of a British barbarian anti-hero.
Richard Blake = Sean Gabb!