Book Review: Bloodtide by Melvin Burgess
May. 22nd, 2009 07:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
juushikaTitle: Bloodtide
Author: Melvin Burgess
Published: New York: Tor, 1999
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 370
Total Page Count: 76,337
Text Number: 224
Read For: recommended by Terri Windling in The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror: Fifteenth Annual Collection, borrowed from the library
Short Review: Bloodtide is the first part of the Icelandic Volsunga Saga, replayed in dystopic London where ganglords rule the city and genetically engineered halfmen threaten them from the countryside. Twins Siggy and Signy Volson are separated when Signy weds a rival family ganglord, but treason, war, and intrigue may bring them back together—if both twins can survive the harrows of war. An odd combination of dystopic London and Icelandic myth, Bloodtide has an attention-grabbing concept which is often well handled but never fully justified. Burgess's writing is vivid and violent, but constant headhopping cripples the otherwise strong narrative. On the whole, this book is pretty good but not quite good enough, and I don't recommend it.
Straddling futuristic, dystopic London and ancient Icelandic myth, Bloodtide is something of an unusual combination. Burgess makes the story his own: he expands on characters and motivations, streamlines and tweaks parts of the plot, and sets the myth in an entirely new setting which, dystopic and full of halfmen, has a rich story of its own. But too often, the two very disparate aspects just don't mesh. Dystopic London has little explanation or backstory—and while an explicit backstory could be artificial, a lack of backstory makes the setting unrealistic. Burgess also has no explanation for the story's divine influences (visits from Odin, help from Loki) except to have the gods themselves enter the story—and their appearances feel out of place against the an otherwise gritty, detailed, scifi story. Dystopic London and Icelandic myths are unexpected, potentially wonderful partners, but Burgess never justifies bringing them together. Lingering questions of just why Odin walks the streets of London make the book feel a little unsubstantial.
Plot, setting, influences aside: Bloodtide is pretty good, but not quite good enough. Never does it shy from grit and guts: death, murder, betrayal, anger, love are all brutal. And rather than a cheap thrill, the violence is brutally effective. Almost the entire cast is multi-dimensional and brings to the table a litany of twisted motivations, and the story's raw violence gives characters and their actions a hefty weight. Unfortunately, Burgess's interest in characters cripples the flow of the book. The chapters alternate between first and third person, every other chapter jumping into the head of a character—often Signy or Siggy, but sometimes as strange a choice as a one-off headhop into the mind of a war general. The transition between first and third person becomes a bit less jarring as the book goes on, but it never stops feeling like a gimmick—and it makes for some narrative repetition where the edges of the plot overlap what a group of characters did with how a specific character felt about it.
I came to Bloodtide without many expectations, and what I found intrigued but failed to delight. Icelandic myth and ganglord-ruled London is an odd and attention-grabbing combination but it doesn't make sense or work out—a pity, because on their own both dystopic London and retold Icelandic myth are promising premises for a novel. Burgess is a strong writer, but doesn't seem to trust that strength: his story would stand stronger without gimmicky POV changes. I enjoyed much of Bloodtide, both for the unique story that it tries to be and for the strong characters and violence that fill it, but my final impression was somewhat soured by the book's failed potential. It's not bad by a long ways, and interested readers may want to read it and judge it for themselves. But in my opinion this book didn't quite justify the time spent reading it, and I don't recommend it.
Review posted here on Amazon.com.
Author: Melvin Burgess
Published: New York: Tor, 1999
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 370
Total Page Count: 76,337
Text Number: 224
Read For: recommended by Terri Windling in The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror: Fifteenth Annual Collection, borrowed from the library
Short Review: Bloodtide is the first part of the Icelandic Volsunga Saga, replayed in dystopic London where ganglords rule the city and genetically engineered halfmen threaten them from the countryside. Twins Siggy and Signy Volson are separated when Signy weds a rival family ganglord, but treason, war, and intrigue may bring them back together—if both twins can survive the harrows of war. An odd combination of dystopic London and Icelandic myth, Bloodtide has an attention-grabbing concept which is often well handled but never fully justified. Burgess's writing is vivid and violent, but constant headhopping cripples the otherwise strong narrative. On the whole, this book is pretty good but not quite good enough, and I don't recommend it.
Straddling futuristic, dystopic London and ancient Icelandic myth, Bloodtide is something of an unusual combination. Burgess makes the story his own: he expands on characters and motivations, streamlines and tweaks parts of the plot, and sets the myth in an entirely new setting which, dystopic and full of halfmen, has a rich story of its own. But too often, the two very disparate aspects just don't mesh. Dystopic London has little explanation or backstory—and while an explicit backstory could be artificial, a lack of backstory makes the setting unrealistic. Burgess also has no explanation for the story's divine influences (visits from Odin, help from Loki) except to have the gods themselves enter the story—and their appearances feel out of place against the an otherwise gritty, detailed, scifi story. Dystopic London and Icelandic myths are unexpected, potentially wonderful partners, but Burgess never justifies bringing them together. Lingering questions of just why Odin walks the streets of London make the book feel a little unsubstantial.
Plot, setting, influences aside: Bloodtide is pretty good, but not quite good enough. Never does it shy from grit and guts: death, murder, betrayal, anger, love are all brutal. And rather than a cheap thrill, the violence is brutally effective. Almost the entire cast is multi-dimensional and brings to the table a litany of twisted motivations, and the story's raw violence gives characters and their actions a hefty weight. Unfortunately, Burgess's interest in characters cripples the flow of the book. The chapters alternate between first and third person, every other chapter jumping into the head of a character—often Signy or Siggy, but sometimes as strange a choice as a one-off headhop into the mind of a war general. The transition between first and third person becomes a bit less jarring as the book goes on, but it never stops feeling like a gimmick—and it makes for some narrative repetition where the edges of the plot overlap what a group of characters did with how a specific character felt about it.
I came to Bloodtide without many expectations, and what I found intrigued but failed to delight. Icelandic myth and ganglord-ruled London is an odd and attention-grabbing combination but it doesn't make sense or work out—a pity, because on their own both dystopic London and retold Icelandic myth are promising premises for a novel. Burgess is a strong writer, but doesn't seem to trust that strength: his story would stand stronger without gimmicky POV changes. I enjoyed much of Bloodtide, both for the unique story that it tries to be and for the strong characters and violence that fill it, but my final impression was somewhat soured by the book's failed potential. It's not bad by a long ways, and interested readers may want to read it and judge it for themselves. But in my opinion this book didn't quite justify the time spent reading it, and I don't recommend it.
Review posted here on Amazon.com.
