For thousands of years the Maglore ruled their empire, lording it over the other goblin races and downtrodden humans, until the last empress refused to take her own life before she declined, as was traditional. Stretching out her existence to its dregs, she left a chaotic situation, with her own children already dead and the inheritance disputed. The human underdogs took advantage, violently deposed the Maglore and eventually set up their Society of Reason, which has lasted 1500 years, with change deliberately kept to a minimum.
But human prosperity is based on a precarious secret. Each of the royal families of the many small states is guardian to one of the Goblin Jewels, marvels of Maglore cunning, tiny magical engines of clockwork and gemstones that maintain stability, by, for example, preventing volcanoes from erupting or mines from flooding. Were any of those Jewels to be lost or stolen, the consequences in destruction and instability would be great.
The human realms seem safe from enemies, however. For though the smaller goblin races, the Padfoots and Ouphs, still live their wretched lives in their ghettoes, and the strange near-human Wrynecks and Grants can be seen here and there, the Maglore themselves are long gone. Just as well, since, being outwardly identical to humans, any that did remain might well wreak havoc …
The Queen’s Necklace is near-unique in fantasy (apart from some of Edgerton’s other books) in having a setting much like Europe of the late eighteenth century, a world of rapiers and horse-pistols, rouge and powder, magical societies, court intrigues and filthy streets. It’s perhaps surprising this period isn’t used more as inspiration in fantasy, since we associate many fairy stories and folk tales with it. Certainly I remember childhood stories of goblins set in the time of coachmen and highway robbers, so this book’s setting and its inhabitants seemed to fit very well together.
But this was also the time of the French and American revolutions, and thus suits a story in which great events are about to shake up the established order. And there are other ways in which this is not a child’s fairy tale: a fair amount of it revolves around family politics and the intricacies of relationships. These are combined in the marriage between two of the main characters, hot-blooded Captain of the Queen’s Guard Wilrowan Blackheart and his wife Lilliana, who is in training (without her husband’s knowledge) for initiation into a secret order. Now in their early twenties, Will and Lili were forced by Lili’s father to marry in their late teens, ostensibly to avoid disgrace. Though friendly with each other, they don’t really understand each other and spend most of their lives apart, their marriage a great deal less fulfilling than it might be. Fate will draw them, by different routes, into a conspiracy centred on the Goblin Jewel of Mountfalcon, the Chaos Machine. But will it pull them together, or split them further apart? Both, at different times, seem likely.
Theirs is one of three strands in the story, which takes place over more than a year. Another tells the story of King Jarred of the near-arctic (but volcano-heated) kingdom of Winterscar. A widower at thirty, he finds himself enchanted by a mysterious girl at a ball. No one seems to know who she is or who her people are. Surely she can’t compare with the memory of his dead wife? But the strange necklace she wears makes things a lot less certain.
Then there is Jarred’s cousin Lucius, who embarks on a long sea-voyage to discover the truths about the world and meets a king trapped in an opulent madhouse, his only friend a girl who might be his great-niece and who many suspect of being a whore. Will the secret she holds aid a dastardly plot, or hinder it?
The three strands tie together into the story of a great conspiracy and inform each other in very satisfying ways throughout the nearly 600 pages until the exciting climax. The back-and-forth time jumps of several months between these strands take some getting used to, though details of weather and seasonal activities are unobtrusively slipped in to remind us which time of year we are in. The attention to detail and intricacy are impressive — the story is as cleverly constructed as one of the Goblin Jewels themselves. But it never feels like clockwork — one game-changing event took me completely by surprise, yet fitted so well with the characters of those involved that it made complete sense. There are plenty of twists and turns along the way, and all of them fit completely the society Edgerton has built (and whose analogue in our world one suspects she must know very well). The story is full of details of the period, whether clothing or food or types of carriage, but these aren’t laboured. Some have criticised George RR Martin, for example, for too much detail of this sort, but most fantasy readers are already familiar with the medieval milieu. In this case, I never found the detail obtrusive, and it enabled me to visualise the world and brought it to life.
This world-building extends to the style of the writing itself, which also sets the books apart from most other modern fantasy. The flavour feels very much of a novel written in that period (though I think it is in fact significantly more modern). The prose is often very elegant, though this doesn’t come at the expense of characterisation, which is mostly subtle and convincing, and the dialogue is often full of sly wit.
In keeping with this period style, the viewpoint tends to be more omniscient, and does sometimes switch quickly between characters, though I didn’t find this jarring. The fact that we’re not in a close third-person point of view does mean that the novel is written in a similar style throughout. This always suits the characters, who are (at least the viewpoint characters) almost all of the upper classes. This, again (I believe), is in keeping with novels of the period, but for a modern reader does perhaps make it feel a bit restrictive. Though dirt and disease and the realities of life are not absent from the story, I did find myself sometimes wanting a bit more ‘grit’. Partly this was a reaction, I think, to the stifling social conventions portrayed so well in the novel, and the sense of 1500 years of stasis. At some points I wanted to rush through the novel’s world bearing a revolutionary flag, and was excited when, later, a mob decided to do much the same. To my mind, more could have been done with these themes of stasis and revolution. Although there is a secret plot to destabilise the stagnant world the complacent kingdoms have built for themselves, for most of the story it seems the revolutionary spirit is largely absent, and even the questioning spirit confined to a few intellectuals.
But — the fact that the story even got me thinking about such things shows how far this is above most fantasy I encounter. And it’s very rare that I finish a standalone book and so much want to read more about some of the characters. The near-omniscient viewpoint doesn’t hurt their portrayal at all (as it never does when used well). In particular the female characters are very strong. Many authors would have tried to create a strong woman in this setting by having her learn to use a rapier and dress as a man, assuming the author didn’t just modernise the social conventions altogether. Fair enough, but Edgerton doesn’t take this easy route. Her women work within society even as they might chafe against it. They do their work mostly behind the scenes, but they wield real power, influence, and (whether passionately, compassionately, or ruthlessly) intelligence. And there are few characters one doesn’t sympathise with, even those (sometimes especially those) whose aims are antithetical to those of our heroes.
Because of its near-unique style and setting, it’s difficult to compare this to any other fantasy novels. I would strongly recommend that everyone try it out, especially if they’re looking for something a bit different. For those who liked Edgerton’s Goblin Moon, this is a no-brainer.
The Queen’s Necklace is published by HarperCollins and is available at Amazon in the UK and US (and maybe elsewhere).
* * *
Summary:
Pros: setting, plot intricacy, characterisation, prose.
Cons: for its length, perhaps could have had more variety in tone.
Score: 8.5 out of ten, and highly recommended to anyone who doesn’t only like grimdark.
But human prosperity is based on a precarious secret. Each of the royal families of the many small states is guardian to one of the Goblin Jewels, marvels of Maglore cunning, tiny magical engines of clockwork and gemstones that maintain stability, by, for example, preventing volcanoes from erupting or mines from flooding. Were any of those Jewels to be lost or stolen, the consequences in destruction and instability would be great.
The human realms seem safe from enemies, however. For though the smaller goblin races, the Padfoots and Ouphs, still live their wretched lives in their ghettoes, and the strange near-human Wrynecks and Grants can be seen here and there, the Maglore themselves are long gone. Just as well, since, being outwardly identical to humans, any that did remain might well wreak havoc …
The Queen’s Necklace is near-unique in fantasy (apart from some of Edgerton’s other books) in having a setting much like Europe of the late eighteenth century, a world of rapiers and horse-pistols, rouge and powder, magical societies, court intrigues and filthy streets. It’s perhaps surprising this period isn’t used more as inspiration in fantasy, since we associate many fairy stories and folk tales with it. Certainly I remember childhood stories of goblins set in the time of coachmen and highway robbers, so this book’s setting and its inhabitants seemed to fit very well together.
But this was also the time of the French and American revolutions, and thus suits a story in which great events are about to shake up the established order. And there are other ways in which this is not a child’s fairy tale: a fair amount of it revolves around family politics and the intricacies of relationships. These are combined in the marriage between two of the main characters, hot-blooded Captain of the Queen’s Guard Wilrowan Blackheart and his wife Lilliana, who is in training (without her husband’s knowledge) for initiation into a secret order. Now in their early twenties, Will and Lili were forced by Lili’s father to marry in their late teens, ostensibly to avoid disgrace. Though friendly with each other, they don’t really understand each other and spend most of their lives apart, their marriage a great deal less fulfilling than it might be. Fate will draw them, by different routes, into a conspiracy centred on the Goblin Jewel of Mountfalcon, the Chaos Machine. But will it pull them together, or split them further apart? Both, at different times, seem likely.
Theirs is one of three strands in the story, which takes place over more than a year. Another tells the story of King Jarred of the near-arctic (but volcano-heated) kingdom of Winterscar. A widower at thirty, he finds himself enchanted by a mysterious girl at a ball. No one seems to know who she is or who her people are. Surely she can’t compare with the memory of his dead wife? But the strange necklace she wears makes things a lot less certain.
Then there is Jarred’s cousin Lucius, who embarks on a long sea-voyage to discover the truths about the world and meets a king trapped in an opulent madhouse, his only friend a girl who might be his great-niece and who many suspect of being a whore. Will the secret she holds aid a dastardly plot, or hinder it?
The three strands tie together into the story of a great conspiracy and inform each other in very satisfying ways throughout the nearly 600 pages until the exciting climax. The back-and-forth time jumps of several months between these strands take some getting used to, though details of weather and seasonal activities are unobtrusively slipped in to remind us which time of year we are in. The attention to detail and intricacy are impressive — the story is as cleverly constructed as one of the Goblin Jewels themselves. But it never feels like clockwork — one game-changing event took me completely by surprise, yet fitted so well with the characters of those involved that it made complete sense. There are plenty of twists and turns along the way, and all of them fit completely the society Edgerton has built (and whose analogue in our world one suspects she must know very well). The story is full of details of the period, whether clothing or food or types of carriage, but these aren’t laboured. Some have criticised George RR Martin, for example, for too much detail of this sort, but most fantasy readers are already familiar with the medieval milieu. In this case, I never found the detail obtrusive, and it enabled me to visualise the world and brought it to life.
This world-building extends to the style of the writing itself, which also sets the books apart from most other modern fantasy. The flavour feels very much of a novel written in that period (though I think it is in fact significantly more modern). The prose is often very elegant, though this doesn’t come at the expense of characterisation, which is mostly subtle and convincing, and the dialogue is often full of sly wit.
In keeping with this period style, the viewpoint tends to be more omniscient, and does sometimes switch quickly between characters, though I didn’t find this jarring. The fact that we’re not in a close third-person point of view does mean that the novel is written in a similar style throughout. This always suits the characters, who are (at least the viewpoint characters) almost all of the upper classes. This, again (I believe), is in keeping with novels of the period, but for a modern reader does perhaps make it feel a bit restrictive. Though dirt and disease and the realities of life are not absent from the story, I did find myself sometimes wanting a bit more ‘grit’. Partly this was a reaction, I think, to the stifling social conventions portrayed so well in the novel, and the sense of 1500 years of stasis. At some points I wanted to rush through the novel’s world bearing a revolutionary flag, and was excited when, later, a mob decided to do much the same. To my mind, more could have been done with these themes of stasis and revolution. Although there is a secret plot to destabilise the stagnant world the complacent kingdoms have built for themselves, for most of the story it seems the revolutionary spirit is largely absent, and even the questioning spirit confined to a few intellectuals.
But — the fact that the story even got me thinking about such things shows how far this is above most fantasy I encounter. And it’s very rare that I finish a standalone book and so much want to read more about some of the characters. The near-omniscient viewpoint doesn’t hurt their portrayal at all (as it never does when used well). In particular the female characters are very strong. Many authors would have tried to create a strong woman in this setting by having her learn to use a rapier and dress as a man, assuming the author didn’t just modernise the social conventions altogether. Fair enough, but Edgerton doesn’t take this easy route. Her women work within society even as they might chafe against it. They do their work mostly behind the scenes, but they wield real power, influence, and (whether passionately, compassionately, or ruthlessly) intelligence. And there are few characters one doesn’t sympathise with, even those (sometimes especially those) whose aims are antithetical to those of our heroes.
Because of its near-unique style and setting, it’s difficult to compare this to any other fantasy novels. I would strongly recommend that everyone try it out, especially if they’re looking for something a bit different. For those who liked Edgerton’s Goblin Moon, this is a no-brainer.
The Queen’s Necklace is published by HarperCollins and is available at Amazon in the UK and US (and maybe elsewhere).
* * *
Summary:
Pros: setting, plot intricacy, characterisation, prose.
Cons: for its length, perhaps could have had more variety in tone.
Score: 8.5 out of ten, and highly recommended to anyone who doesn’t only like grimdark.
