Michael by Prue Batten

Anyone who’s read my reviews over the years will know how much of a fan I am of Prue Batten’s work. She and I have known one another for a long time now, having come up together as writers from the same humble start (one shared by other great authors like Gordon Doherty and Douglas Jackson, in fact.) But throughout my career, I have always watched for Prue’s latest work and devoured it, because, in a nutshell, she writes so well that I am constantly envious of her fantastic work.

Her prose is pure class, highly descriptive, emotive and yet also as smooth as a mill pond and as beautiful and detailed as a Canaletto. She cut her teeth on dark faerie fantasy with an excellent full series – the Chronicles of Eirie – before moving on to the Medieval world with her Gisborne series, and then a trilogy of spin-offs from that concentrating on some of the more interesting supporting cast. And that is where we are now. The Triptych Chronicles (Tobias, Guillaume, and now Michael.)

I’m not going to enthuse about it here, because it will all be hyperbole. You get the gist. I will say that it easily matches all of Prue’s other work, which is to say that it is utterly magnificent. And given that I know Prue has had more than a year of real life shake-ups that must have required all her attention and distracted her from writing, it does not show, which is another mark of a true professional. Quality-wise, be assured that once you read Prue’s work, you will want to devour all her books.

The Triptych Chronicles, as I said, expand upon some of the supporting characters from her Medieval series, and this last one is a magnificent example of how to take an interesting secondary character and thrust them into the limelight with enough depth and realism to make them worthy of a series on their own. Michael was, for me, in the original series a minor character with a few interesting questions hovering over his head. This book not only answers those questions, but it gives us the whole truth and history of the character, intricately tied into a plot that is tense, gripping and ineffable. I did not eff it, I have to say. Trade wars in Constantinople form the backbone of the story, though it is Michael’s place in them and his shadowed past that create the true tale. Oh, and I also have to add that I have spent time in Istanbul and written about it myself on several occasions, and I have come across no one who can capture the feel and the spirit of the place like Prue.

This may be her last Medieval novel. I do not know. But it is a great way to go out in style, if so, and we can guarantee that there will be other great reads ahead in whatever milieu Prue chooses. Michael is released TODAY! That’s 20th July. Go buy it. And if you’ve not read any of her other books, go buy them all.

UK copies through Amazon HERE

Strategos: Island in the Storm

Three years ago I reviewed the second book in Gordon’s Strategos trilogy, which I loved as much as the first. It goes to show how busy I am and how many books there are in my reading pile that it’s taken me 3 years to get to the final volume in a series I love. But here we are. I’ve been back with Mr Doherty’s golden prose once more and loving it.

For me, Strategos III (Island in the Storm) is a win on two levels.

Firstly, I have come to love the setting and characters. I am fascinated by late Rome and Byzantium but am less familiar with the medieval era of that world than the classical. Yet the first Strategos book opened my eyes to it and I drank it in. It’s a testament to a good series and excellent characters when you can step out for 3 years then pick up again and the whole thing is instantly familiar and all the personalities in it come flooding straight back. That’s what happened for me. The tale of Apion’s life is at the same time heroic and glorious and makes the blood surge, but also sad and heartbreaking and thought-provoking. It is a rich tale with depth and a great deal of care put into every detail. And the fact that I knew this was the last book in the trilogy meant that I knew everything had to be tied up and come to an end. This was a masterful drawing together of threads, particularly given that anyone familiar with the events covered in the book knows that things cannot end well. That being the case, reaching an end that satisfies the reader is impressive.

Secondly, the book revolves largely around the Battle of Manzikert. Even not being overly-familiar with the era, I know of that battle. It’s one of those that should go down in history with Alesia, Adrianople, Hastings, Agincourt, Waterloo etc. A world-changing battle. But while I knew the basics (the sides in the battle, the outcome and the rough location) that was all. So this book was educational as well as entertaining. Because I have since finishing it read up a little on Manzikert, and Doherty had clearly done his research. And while reading a non-fiction account of a battle is educational, for me it can’t quite beat an ‘author’s eye view’. Because a good historical author does adequate research to produce as accurate a portrayal of the fight as it is possible to create, and in putting the reader into the action, seeing it through the eyes of those present, the writer makes the reader experience the battle rather than just learning about it. That is the second value to me of this. It made me understand Manzikert and just how important it was.

Doherty is one of the finest historical writers out there at the moment and for me pretty much leads the pack in the Indie book world (myself included.) Don’t read this book if you don’t know the series. Read them all. Buy the Strategos trilogy. You can get the lot on kindle for £10. That’s the price of a pub meal which will last you 15 minutes, while these will give you many hours of pleasure. Surely that’s a no-brainer?

Tales of Byzantium

I am something of a lover of all things Byzantine these days, and an avid reader of historical fiction, of course, and so it’s no wonder really that this book came to my attention. Tales of Byzantium is a collection of three short stories, and so I shall deal with each individually briefly, and then the whole thing to finish.

The first story is primarily a love story. It is the tale of Constantine Porphyrogenitus and his lady Helena (he’s one of my heroes, responsible for Tekfur Saray palace in Istanbul.) This story actually takes up more than half the whole book. Once I realised that this was a romantic tale, just a short way in, I thought I probably wouldn’t like it – historical romance has to be done exceptionally well to hook me. But oddly I stuck with this, and am glad I did, for it is far more than a love story. It is an examination of the characters, of what it meant to be a member of one of the great dynasties, to be the empress, it’s an examination of the dichotomy of the whole Byzantine world, in that they were such a cultured ancient people, who were the most powerful nation imaginable, and yet they were also riven by self-destructive tendencies and unable to come to terms with their both east and west and the changing world around them. Perhaps for me, most of all, I enjoyed the scenery, for Istanbul (Constantinople) is my heartland, and I could picture every location as it was brought forth. No. In honesty, it was the characters of Constantine and Helena. They were beautifully portrayed. So if romance is not your thing, brush that trend aside and read it anyway, paying attention to the people.

The second tale is more my usual fare, being a military story based around a siege involving another of my faves, Manuel Komnenos (or Comnenus in the tale). The characters in this (Manuel in particular) are immensely likeable and deeply realistic. The story is one that has something of a twist, and I liked the way it was framed as a retrospective view. There are action scenes, some humour, and a light exploration of the politics of the era. War fans will enjoy the moments of the actual siege. My one complaint about this tale is that it could so easily have been a much bigger story. It could have been played out slower and longer, as long as the first story, really, and that would have given us more tension over the events that are central to the story and more opportunity to come to know Manuel. All in all, it’s a nice story and a good read. I just feel it was a slightly missed opportunity for something larger.

The third tale is of an exiled princess, who, trapped in a tedious life in a monastery, manages to live a life in almost solitude despite being in a city of millions. Demeaningly for a woman of her status, she is given the task of teaching a young nun to read and in doing so decides that an unfinished story should be finished. This is Anna Komnena, who wrote the great Alexiad which documented the empire at the time of the earliest crusades. Once more, this is a beautiful vignette well-written and lovingly-researched, with well-fleshed out characters and attention to detail. Once again, though, I felt that this came across more as the prologue of a much grander work than a tale on its own. If Stephenson decides at some point to write a grand epic of the eleventh and/or twelfth centuries in thew Byzantine world, this would make a lovely start to it.

Overall, then, the writing is lovely. The characters are presented just right, there is a depth and colour to the world that Stephenson has clearly treated as a labout of love. The stories are entertaining and intriguing and tell of some of the great characters of the Imperial dynasties with a great deal of historical knowledge and accuracy. The whole book is a very easy and enthralling read. My only issue was that of the three tales only one felt complete, the other two being a little brief for me. But at 99p in ebook form, it is well worth the money and worth a read nonetheless, and certainly made me appreciate the author’s skill. I shall look out for further work by her.

The latter days of Rome

Ok here we go. It might take a while to load as this is an image heavy blog post. There follow 23 images. And here’s your big quiz question to begin: which of these images are Roman. Go for it…

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Ok? Got your answers in order? Here we go…

It was a trick question. All of the above are Roman. Or, if I need to put it another way, if you could ask the builder or designer or commissioner of these structures, they would all tell you they were Roman. And they cover a period of over 2000 years. Yes, I know. It’s often staggering to think of that. At the end of the post, I shall detail the pics, if you’re interested.

Right, the reason for all this tomfoolery is because I keep finding myself confronted with words like decline, fall, and twilight applied to the Roman Empire. It is mostly the fault of Edward Gibbon and his renowned ‘Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’, of course. And because of him Alec Guiness was in a film with the same theme. And you know what? They are talking about the period following the death of Marcus Aurelius and the reign of Commodus. And here’s the thing: Rome had existed for 933 years when Aurelius died (if you take the founding in 753 as Gospel, anyway.) But if you count an emperor of an empire that consider themselves Roman in an unbroken chain back to the days of Augustus, then the empire went on til 1453 when Mehmed the Conqueror took Constantinople. That means there was still 1273 years of being Roman to go. So this decline and fall seems to have taken place less than half way through? Pah!

Ian Ross has written a series of novels based around the rise of Constantine around 305 AD. His series is called Twilight of Empire. Now don’t get me wrong, they are very good books and I would recommend them. It’s just that monicker that makes me twitch. 305? 1148 years is a hell of a long twilight, isn’t it? Especially in a day that’s 2206 years long. So can even that era really be called a decline or twilight?

Because here’s the thing: Rome changed. Everyone seems to have this set view of the Roman Empire being the legions in their segmented plate with rulers in togas building playing-card shaped forts, shouting in Latin, worshiping Jupiter and conquering barbarians. Think again. Rome had been through many phases even by Gibbon’s time of theoretical fall. It had been an Etruscan monarchy with a military heavily based on the Greek model. It had been a republic with a Hellenistic/Etruscan/Gallic model of armies. It had been a principate with the first true professional standing army. And it had been an empire that meets common public expectations.

And if we accept that Rome had changed, morphed and grown from its start as an agricultural village to the great empire Aurelius left to his son, then why should we consider the changes that follow a decline or fall?

There was a century or so of political turbulence, yes, and the borders came under much pressure, yes. But even during that time there were periods of golden stability. Gallienus ruled for 15 years with a record that does him credit, for example. And during this time, art changes and blossoms. The mosaicists become multichrome and complex following African influences. Paintings become more varied and imaginative. Religion starts to become a much wider and more complex animal. Cultural identity is becoming mixed. What is a Roman in the late 3rd or early 4th century? Many emperors have now come from Africa, Syria and the Balkans. This is, to my mind, not a decline but a period of change driven by struggle and need, but one of glorious revolution. Sometimes change is difficult, but that does not mean it loses its value.

And so Constantine marks another turning point, as he for the first time shifts the focus of power. Rome is no longer the heart, but Constantinople. Does that make it less Roman? No. The inhabitants are still Roman, ruled by Roman emperors. The army is now a more diaphenous, complex and mobile thing, and includes members of the very peoples they used to fight. The equipment owes as much to the Germanic peoples and the Parthians as to ancient Rome and Greece. But they are still, in their minds, Roman.

Then Rome (the city) falls to the Goths and a short while later the last western emperor disappears into obscurity. Chisel that headstone of empire then, as Gibbon predicted. But no… wait a minute… there’s this thing we now term the Byzantine Empire, centred around Constantinople. But guess what? They did not think of themselves as Byzantine. That is a modern monicker. To them, they were Roman. It was the Roman empire, plain and simple. It spoke Greek, and was centred on Constantinople, and it was a Christian world. But it was still Roman.

So there you have it. Rome, to my mind, fell in 1453 after 22 centuries. It did not decline and fall between the 2nd and 5th centuries. Commodus did not mark the crucial apex before the downward slide. Equally, Constantine ruled during an earlier period of empire, not its twilight. In fact, its final decline I would put at 1204, when the Pope’s crusaders sacked Constantinople and crippled imperial power for good. THAT is the decline and fall. Two and a half centuries at the end  consisting of desperate emperors clinging on in the face of Italian belligerence and Turkish expansion.

Anyway, that’s my two-penneth for the day. And it gave me the opportunity to post some nice piccies too. Back soon with another book review.

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Pic details:

1. The ‘Romulean Huts’ on the Palatine in Rome (8th century BC)
2. Outfall of the Cloaca Maxima sewer in Rome (circa 7th century BC)
3. Temples at San Omobono in Rome (6th century BC)
4. Temple of Castor & Pollux in the Roman forum (5th century BC)
5. Servian Walls of Rome (4th century BC)
6. Temple in Largo Argentina, Rome (3rd century BC)
7. Walls of Tarragona in Spain (2nd century BC)
8. Mausoleum of Augustus, Rome (1st century BC)
9. House of Argus, Herculaneum (1st century AD)
10. Hadrian’s Wall at Willowford, England (2nd century AD)
11. Walls of St Albans, England (3rd century AD)
12. Aqueduct of Valens, Istanbul (4th century AD)
13. Theodosian Land Walls of Istanbul (5th century AD)
14. Haghia Sophia, Isanbul (6th century AD)
15. Church of St Titus, Gortyn, Crete (7th century AD)
16. Haghia Irene, Istanbul (8th century AD)
17. Church of St Paolo Fuori le Mura, Rome (9th century AD)
18. Monastery of Constantine Lips, Istanbul (10th century AD)
19. Chora Church, Istanbul (11th century AD)
20. Church of the Pammakaristos, Istanbul (12th century AD)
21. Palace of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, Istanbul (13th century AD)
22. Brontochion Monastery, Mistra, Greece (14th century AD)
23. Bridge over the Armira River, Bulgaria (15th century AD)

Tobias

Prue Batten has long been one of my favourite writers for quality of prose. Her word-spinning ability is at the top of her craft and anything she writes is enticing and enthralling, flowing across the pages with simple grace. The fact that the more she moves into the world of medieval historical fiction the more her plots also deepen and improve just adds to the reasons to read her work.

The Gisborne trilogy started out somewhere on the border between historical fiction and historical romance, and despite that not really being my thing, I read them it and loved it because, as I’ve said before, Prue could write a phone book and make it absorbing. But with the second and third volume in that series, the focus moved more towards the traditional historical genre and the action increased along with the intrigue, all without losing anything of character or style.

Tobias is the first novel in a series of standalone spin-off novels from that series and while it retains every aspect of skill and beauty I’ve come to expect from Prue, the novel also shows once again a strengthening of plot and deepening of knowledge and centrality in the medieval world. Here’s how Tobias as a novel really wins for me in 5 points.

1. The characters. Tobias and his brother Tomasso are two of my favourite characters from the Gisborne trilogy. They stand out as a fascinating pair and, being dwarves, there is a real depth to them, given the medieval fascination with such folk. They are written truly sympathetically and beautifully and rather than being so empathically written that their stature does not affect the tale, rather it does affect the tale as it should and the reader starts to see the world from that height, which is an amazing thing. The supporting cast are also excellent, in particular including Mehmet, who is again one of my favourite characters from the series and probably deserves a book of his own, Prue (hint, hint…)
2. The location. In addition to the ship on which the characters travel, the cast stop at Crete, which is one of my favourite places, and the plot centres very heavily on Constantinople, where the majority of the tale takes place. And Istanbul is one of my top 2 places on Earth, with which I am very familiar. So as well as loving the settings, I could feel the heady atmosphere of the place and picture every junction, facade and doorway.
3. The plot is beautifully crafted, like the ribbons around a maypole, each thread entwining with the others, under, over, under, over. For the plot given at the start of the book, and what drives our heroes into their long and fraught journey is only the opening salvo of what is a deep, complex and in places surprising plot, involving a clandestine business deal, a woman of great importance with enemies across Byzantium, a missing holy icon and a sinister force hunting the pair.
4. The interaction between the two brothers. The pair may be virtually identical to others but they are very different people and the growing rift between them and the way they deal with each other in their turbulent relationship throughout is perfectly done.
5. Atmopshere. In the Gisborne series, we have felt the cold, damp, dour atmosphere of Medieval England, the hot, dusty, dangerous atmosphere of Outremer, the glittering, cultured atmospheres of Genoa and Venice. Well now, Prue has turned her attention to that cultural melting pot that is Istanbul and the join between Europe and Asia. It is one of my favourite things to experience and I felt it oozing out from the pages, so well done there, Prue.

So there we go. I don’t think I’ve spoiled the plot for you, but if you’ve not read the Gisborne series, I heartily recommend them. If you have, you’ll LOVE Tobias. The novel can be read as a standalone if you so desire, but you’ll get a lot more from it if you’ve read the Gisborne books and have a grounding in the characters, so that’s definitely the best way to do it if you have the leisure.

Another Batten masterpiece. And it’s out today. Go get it and be entranced.

The Sultan of Byzantium

An interesting read over Christmas. The Sultan of Byzantium by Selcuk Altun. It’s the first time in quite a while that I’ve read a foreign language text translated into English, and so I had forgotten to be prepared for the usual ‘things don’t always carry over into a different language well’ situation. Still, I soon overcame that issue.

The Sultan of Byzantium is hard to categorise. Some might throw it into the same camp as people like Dan Brown, Simon Toyne or Chris Kuzneski, though it would be a shoe-horned fit, I think. It is an interesting enough story, though for me its value is in its less central facets, to which I will turn shortly.

Essentially, it is the tale of a half-American, half-Turkish, well-educated and largely secular man who is visited by a secretive and powerful group claiming to be the protectors of the line of the last Byzantine emperor. These strange folk explain that our hero is the last of the line of the Palaeologus dynasty and that his ancestor, Constantine XI, upon losing Constantinople to the Turk, had written a list of folk upon whom he sought revenge. The protagonist will have to undergo a series of tests to prove his worthiness and, if he succeeds, he will be made ’emperor in exile’ and will be given the last item on the revenge list to tackle, after which the extremely wealthy secretive organisation will be his to do with as he wishes.

Cue a treasure hunt across the Byzantine world, with the hero finding a purple square that will lead him to the next place in his quest.

What this books is perhaps missing is a sense of threat that comes with the Dan Browns, Simon Toynes and Christ Kuzneskis. Most of the novel comes across as a happy and relaxed exploration of Byzantium, mixed with interesting observations and personal discoveries and reminiscences. Then, towards the end, a sense of threat suddenly appears, becomes slightly less nebulous and is quickly and efficiently dealt with with no real heart-stopping moment. That being said, there is certainly still intrigue and a little suspense to the tale.

Another thing that sat oddly with me in the books was the occasional reference by the author to himself as a minor supporting character. I suppose there’s nothing really wrong with the idea, but it just seemed a little strange.

But the value of this tale comes in other directions for me. Firstly, if you’re not a lover of Istanbul and Byzantium, don’t bother. The thriller side of the story will not be enough to retain your interest, I suspect. But for those like me, who have a deep love of Istanbul and fascination with Byzantium, I would heartily recommend it. The descriptions of ancient Istanbul and Byzantium are livid, evocative and enchanting and will whisk you straight to them. I can perfectly picture almost every site mentioned in the text, and his descriptions are almost exactly as I remember them.

Additionally, this is a viewpoint that you will rarely get to experience. A secular Turk with Euro-American leanings, a superstitious, devout Islamic grandmother, a lover of fine things and a tendecy to mistrust his own feelings such that he indulges in the company of prostitutes to satisfy. This is a story written by a Turk about a Turko-Greek-American, and the cultural viewpoint is fascinating and telling in odd ways.

I learned things. I love Byzantium and Istanbul and there were few points in the story that I didn’t already know, but perhaps two or three times, Altun produced a little fact or snippet that truly interested and educated me. Fascinating.

Then there is the imagery and use of language. All I can say is that in his native language, Altun must be poetic to read. Because even in translation, he creates some stunning images and some beautifully-crafted prose. There are moments that I have taken to my heart and phrases that will stay with me. The descriptions of Galata – a place that I have previously found to be over-busy, over-modern and cluttered and fraught – have made me see a new side of it, and the next time I visit, I will view the place through new eyes.

How do I summarise? The Sultan of Byzantium is a fairly specialised read. But if you love the exotic world of Istanbul and Byzantium, it is well worth investing in for a quick, absorbing read.

Gordon Doherty – July Author Interview

This month’s author interview is my good friend and comrade in fictitious gore, Gordon Doherty, the man behind the acclaimed Legionary and Strategos series. Gordon’s work is renowned and has been well-received in many countries, and if you’re a fan of late Rome or Byzantium, you cannot do better than delve into his work. Just have a look and judge the books by their covers! 😉

And just to add to the joy of that, yesterday saw the release of the final tome in the Strategos trilogy, Island in the Storm. Get it HERE

And now, on with the interview.

Your two series that have hit the shelves thus far (Legionary and Strategos) are both based in the Late Roman/Byzantine world, for all they are many centuries apart. What has drawn you so strongly to that eastern region and that complex time that it has dominated two series?

In a word; mystique. There is a certain something about the Eastern Empire and Byzantium that feels unattainable. Some buried knowledge that, no matter how many layers I sift through and peel away, will always elude me. It is a perpetual source of intrigue.
Militarily, I am fascinated by the gradual decline of the legions of old and the subsequent rise of the armies of Byzantium – the tagmata and the themata (ironically, the latter played a similar role to that performed by the early republican legions, both being soldier-farmers raised to fight in times of peril).
Culturally and politically, the empire changed drastically too, becoming an amalgam of ages recent and long past: the populace shunned Latin and spoke Greek, the Byzantine Emperors adopted the attire of and behaved in many respects like ancient Persian Kings, and the old pantheon was consigned to history as the Christian God became the empire’s new patron.
From the time of Legionary, in the 4th century AD, to the era of Strategos in the 11th century AD, the empire was compelled to adjust and adapt as the world changed around it. This, of course, could be said of the earlier Western Empire, but in that era, Rome was a burgeoning force, a rapidly expanding power, whereas the Eastern Empire of late antiquity onwards embraced change more often than not purely to survive. And it is that visceral concept of survival that inspired me to write the tales of Pavo and Apion.

How do you research your books? I know people who make heavy use of reenactment, people who walk every inch of their locations, people who research deeper than any mainstream academic, and, of course, there are people who rely heavily on imagination, it all being fiction after all. All of these seem viable routes in their own way and for their own types of work.

I’m not a reenactor, though I do have a few bits and bobs of kit, including the rather magnificent 4th century intercisa helmet, below, that has become the talisman (I tried really hard not to say ‘brand’ there) of the Legionary series. On a tough writing day, it’s nice to glance across the room and see the kit, imagine the legionaries marching to war in it . . . then try it on and pretend you’re one of them. [Gordon’s Top Tip #237: always remember to check your neighbours are not in their garden and in full view of your living room window when you’re strutting about in just your underpants and this helmet.]

I wouldn’t say I’m an avid explorer, but I do get out and about. It particularly helps that I love the region I write about, so my regular trips abroad to Turkey and Greece are great fun and highly informative. Waking up to an Anatolian sunrise, eating fresh bread and local honey then going for a run or a walk through the burnt-gold countryside is inspirational stuff.

Overall though, I would say that the bulk of my research centres on reading the primary and secondary sources. They also usually serve as the spark for new novel ideas, prosaically (amusingly so, sometimes) unveiling some savage twist in history that sets my imagination aflame. However, I think that a novel spawned purely from historical texts could be pretty dry. So a combination of the previously mentioned factors – the first-hand experience of handling kit or travelling to historical sites – really help to breathe life into a work of fiction. For me though the ‘magic’ really comes when you add imagination to the mix.

Despite being strong, controlled and martial characters, both of your protagonists – Pavo and Apion – did not start their lives as military heroes, but as rather innocents thrown into a world for which they are perhaps not initially suited and finding a path regardless. Do you find this aspect makes the character stronger? And consequently was it a very different concept when you came to write the sequels and the characters had grown into their military roles?

Stronger? I’ll let the readers be the judge of that . I’d say that their difficult beginnings make them easier to write about. This might sound like the strapline for the latest novel from the Twilight Universe (“A teenager who didn’t fit in . . . ”) but I can empathise with the feeling of being swept along by life, finding yourself in awkward places and rather crap circumstances. It’s not a unique concept, but both Pavo and Apion face some pretty brutal episodes early on, and from there, it’s up to them as to how they handle it: their choices make them who they are.
Once a character has ‘come of age’ and found their place in martial life, it certainly is a different prospect to write of them again. Apion, for example, is a very different man between books 1 and 2 in the Strategos series. By the time of ‘Rise of the Golden Heart’, twelve years have passed and he has little of the emotional fragility he suffered as a boy. No longer could I have him frozen by acute fear or doubt – or at least I certainly couldn’t have him letting the armies he led see this. I really had to work hard to change my perception of him for that book.

Your books are solidly rooted in the physical world, and yet there is a necessary leaning toward the religious, given that both of your series revolve around a Christianised Empire fighting strange, pagan enemies with old Gods and beliefs. Strategos even dips heavily into mystical overtones. Do you feel that a little religious context and mysticism adds something to a peek into past times?

Absolutely. The transition to Christianity and the slow death of the old pagan gods presents an irresistible crucible for tension all across the Roman world. In Legionary, Pavo and the men of the XI Claudia are stationed on the empire’s borders, where they practice Mithraism (a cult thought to be loosely based on a Zoroastrian deity, Mithra). Mithraism was the cult of the border legions for many years – well into the 5th century – after the inner empire and the major population centres had long eschewed pagan worship in favour of Christianity. I can only imagine how they felt, standing on the edge of the Roman world, facing barbarian hordes, defending an empire that had shunned their faith.
Then, as the Eastern Roman Empire morphed into what we now call the Byzantine Empire, the pagan gods were left behind for good. It became God’s realm, and the people saw it as God’s vision of Heaven recreated on Earth. There was no concept of a holy war, only because there was no other type of war to require the definition. Soldiers marched to battle only if they believed it was to protect God’s Empire. This absolute mindset might seem foreign to us in the present day, but it was the cornerstone of Byzantine life. In fact I’d readily admit that I have kept the religious aspect of my books relatively light simply because I think it would be almost impossible to authentically convey the dominance of religious thought in those times.
Mysticism really comes to the fore in the Strategos series, and has a vital part to play when Apion, a staunch Christian at the outset of the trilogy, loses his faith. One can only wonder what kind of crutch a man might fall back on in a world where, unlike today, there was no alternative to religion.

If a reader asked me ‘Why should I buy Gordon’s books? What’s different about them? What’s the hook?’ I know what I’d say. What would you say to that?

Because they are ace! Better than a crème egg that is unexpectedly chocolate the whole way through!
Seriously though, I won’t claim there is one ‘silver bullet’ factor that makes my books different. I think it’s all in the blend: my style of writing, my (at times unhealthy) fascination with the underdog and my overactive imagination.
I aim to tell stories that will hook you from the off, whisk you into the past, thrill you throughout, neither bore you with too much history nor neglect it. I target adventure, action and intrigue in equal measure. And you’ll get some rather mucky dying as well (Quote from GoodReads on one character’s demise: “Urgh – that was rank. It put me off my tea!”).
But most of all, I try to take you to my character’s side. Long after you’ve finished reading, I want you to remember Pavo and Apion, their comrades and the choices that made them who they were. I want you to remember the march to war, the campfire where the legionaries were bantering on the eve of a battle in which they knew most would fall, the front line where they stood side by side with you, moments from clashing blades with the onrushing enemy. That, in a nutshell, is why I started writing: so I could commit my imagination to paper, live out the adventure, bring together and build upon the flashing thoughts and ideas and create a world in which they could thrive.

Simon says: My two penneth, incidentally, is that Gordon’s books are unrelenting, action packed and breackneck in pace. You will never experience a lull or ennui in the process.

Both of your protagonists so far are very much a ‘civilized force’ in a world of chaos and barbarism. Given that you have become somewhat noted for the brutality and savagery of your bad guys and the scenes of violence they instigate, are you not tempted to write a tale from that point of view? An antihero series in which civilization is the enemy?

Tempted? Yes, definitely. It would make perfect sense for me to do this, given my aforementioned love of the underdog. In fact there might well be a project coming up where the protagonist’s roots are firmly planted outside of the ‘civilized’ world. It would require a huge shift in perspective, but yes, I would wager that this will happen at some point.
Regardless of the protagonist’s origins in any such tale, I can guarantee you this: there will be brutal, violent savagery on both sides

In movies, the creator often gets to release a director’s cut and tweak things after release. Authors get no such option. Have you ever written a scene that you wish you’d done another way? That you think was too violent, or too tense, or too languid (or of course not violent enough!)

I always re-read the previous books in a series before working on the next volume, and the pattern is usually the same: I scan a certain line or scene a couple of times, scratch my head and wonder something like: ‘Why on Earth didn’t I make that guy fall into a ravine and have his eyes pecked out by vultures?’
I think it’s natural as I develop as a writer to consider things I wrote last week, last month or last year and wish I had written them differently, but I could drive myself mad if I thought about it too much. If you ever write the perfect novel, then, effectively . . . you’re done. Where do you go from there? How can you top perfection? Also, there’s no guarantee that a seemingly ‘perfect’ tweak will actually improve things: I always remember in English class at high school when I got an A for a short story (a low key tale involving a time machine and Armageddon if I recall correctly). The teacher said I was a hair’s breadth from an A+, so I went off and rewrote parts of it, tried to vamp it up, resubmitted it . . . and got a B!
So when I look back on my existing books and have thoughts on how I could have made an emotional scene more poignant, a battle scene more frantic, or a villain’s end more gruesome, I just smile and store those ideas for the future. When they have had a chance to mature, I’m sure they’ll stand me in good stead for some new project (so the bloke about to stop for the night and have his dinner by the nice, friendly-looking ravine had better beware!).

I have noted that in the Strategos series, there is a great deal of ‘blurring of the lines’ between good guys and bad guys. It would obviously be easy to label the Byzantines as good and the Seljuks as bad from the protagonist’s point of view (something that might be applied to the Legionary series), and yet you have created a complex background in which it is at least as easy to sympathise with the Seljuks as the ‘Roman west’. Do you deliberately try to show the humanity (and lack thereof) on both sides?

Strategos started as a look at the lives of ordinary people caught between two great, warring empires. I always envisioned some of the core characters, particularly in the first volume ‘Born in the Borderlands’ to be non-partisan. Indeed, Mansur – Apion’s Seljuk mentor – is the epitome of this: a Seljuk living in Byzantine lands, a man who has shunned his faith, a man who tries to lead the life of a pacifist despite the brutality going on all around him. I did have a notion of the Seljuk Sultans being something of the enemies/villains of the piece, but not far from the outset, I realised I couldn’t bring myself to represent them as such without the tale becoming both trite and unfaithful to history. Yes, there were some grim individuals in the Seljuk armies and courts, but also many noble men. Equally, Byzantium’s courts and lands had a delicate balance of good and foul people. Thus, the notion of blurring the lines blossomed naturally to cover not just the core characters, but the entire world of Strategos. It’s a tale of people, some bad, few good, and many somewhere in between.

What are you reading at present?

I’ve just finished David Drake’s ‘Belisarius: Thunder at Dawn’. It’s a fascinating alternative history of the Byzantine general’s adventures. It is more than a tad overwritten, but beautifully so (if that makes sense). So, to counterbalance that with something more pacy, I’ve just started ‘The Lost Ark’ by J.R. Rain, an adventure novel about a quest to find Noah’s Ark. The reviews said it was hugely cheesy and a bit ‘Indiana Jones’. It is both. And it is cracking fun too!

And finally, can you give us any clues or hints as to what your next project is? Strategos III is your current new release, and I gather it is to be the final part of the series, so what we can hope to see on the shelves in the next few years? (note for G: I think it would be best to look further ahead than our joint project and gloss over that)

‘Strategos: Island in the Storm’ is indeed the end to the trilogy. The likelihood is that the next two years will see me working on Legionary 4 & 5, and a covert joint project with a certain Mr Turney.
After that, I have a shortlist of what to tackle next. I have taken advice from my agent over what would be ‘box office’ and from friendly readers who have pitched ideas to me. I also have my own personal cravings as to what part of history I should immerse myself in next*.
There’s a chance I might be staying in the late Roman Empire, a possibility that I’ll be moving west from my beloved Byzantium and there’s a prospect that I’ll be shooting back through time into the Bronze Age. There’s also a slim chance that I might try my hand outside historical fiction too.
Having spent the last three or four years writing for a living, I know how much time and emotional investment goes into creating a novel and the world and characters that go with it. I’d hate to spend either unwisely, so my choice will be crucial.

*And I have midlife crisis notions of buying a campervan and going off to explore the world for a few years, but that’s not what readers want to hear 😉

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So all that remains is for me to send you off to buy Gordon’s books, which you should so clearly already have done, and to say thank you to him for his time and insight in this interview.

Gordon’s website

Gordon on Facebook

Gordon on Twitter

Gordon on Amazon

Next blog up: Angus Donald’s Iron Castle

Strategos – Apion does it again.

It’s been a while since I’ve read one of Gordon’s books (the last one being the first in the Strategos series.) And once again I find myself not only impressed with the quality of his writing, but even a little jealous.

Again, for the record I have, since we started writing, become a friend of Gordon’s, and consequently, feel free to ignore this review, but the review is genuine for all our acquaintance.

Strategos 1 was largely a tale of personal growth for the youthful Apion, battling physical disability, personal demons and the harshness of a land torn by war and distrust. I was therefore surprised when I picked up book 2 to discover that the story has moved on a number of years and Apion is now a grown man, battle-hardened, jaded and fatalistic, watching his Empire falling apart and fighting to maintain his corner of it.

This book really does take us in a different direction to book 1, which in retrospect is only natural. No follow up to book 1 could have seamlessly continued from where it left off. Rise of the Golden Heart concerns itself largely with the power struggles in Byzantium, corruption in the Imperial Court and the rise of Romanos Diogenes. In this installment, Apion is drawn into the horror of court life as well as that of border warfare. The story takes us from the Turkish border wars to Constantinople, across Byzantine Europe and then back to the plains of Syria by way of intrigue, betrayal, vendetta and, of course – as readers of Gordon’s work have come to expect and love – WAR!

Short of what I’ve noted above, I’ll not delve deeply into the plot for fear of spoilers, but suffice it to say there is an ongoing theme of betrayal and treachery throughout, whether the background be the tinkling fountains of the Constantinople palace or the arid, deadly mountains of southern Anatolia.

As usual with Gordon’s writing there are certain high points and factors that stand out for me. One is the thoroughness of his plotting and research. The story is perfectly formed and runs in an undeniably smooth arc, while threading itself around the known historical fact and not twisting, altering or guessing anything.

Second is the quality of the language itself. Gordon is fast becoming a master of the historical genre with his elegant turns of phrase and sensory, tactile descriptions which bring the locations to life in the text.

Thirdly, the characters are realistic and sympathetic. There is nothing 2-dimensional or bland about them. In particular, I loved the gradual shifts in the general attitude of Apion as the world turns around him, affecting his life.

I understand that there will be a third volume in the series, and I cannot wait to see what he does with a – presumable older again – Apion, probably at the dreadful battle of Manzikert.

If you’ve read Strategos, why are you reading this. Click the ‘Buy’ button and read the book instead. If you’ve not, boy have you got some engrossing hours ahead.

Next up for me on the Gordonologue: Legionary II.

🙂

City of dreams and dust

Now that blog title deserves to be the title of a novel if anything ever did.

Today I bring you a dream once again; not a funny post this time, but I think you’ll like it. Only occasionally do I remember a dream well enough to detail it hours after waking. But this? This was was fab and one day will likely be a location in a book I write. It’s so vivid and fantastic. I’ll give you the background to begin with.

In this dream I was on holiday in Tunisia and exploring an ancient city (still inhabited, but with many ancient things) alongside my dad and several other people. So the scene is set. I don’t know how vividly I’m going to be able to paint this, so bear with me.

(Note. I see, reading back before publishing, that I seem to leap tense an viewpoints a few times. I thought about correcting this, but this is not a novel. This is a dream, and should be a little disjointed and confused, so I leave/left/will leave this as it is, with all its faults.)

I shall now give you the guided tour of this mysterious dream city as I experienced it. Approaching along the gorge, the first impression is amazing. To either side the cliffs rise to impressive heights and there is a wide area before the town. The valley floor descends from a saddle, so you are looking down a slope at this. Like a giant low cylinder, inaccessible rocky cliffs rise in the centre with a city nestled on top. Just visible down the gorge to the left of it is an area of raised ground, like a step on the side of the cliff, on the top of which a well-preserved Byzantine theatre sits in dusty ruined glory. Getting to it will involve some climbing, but we are determined.

So. A is the first approach. Imagine a cross between these three but all jammed in a deep ravine.

Hopefully you’re getting something of the impression that I had. Imagine it now very brown and dusty, as one might imagine such a place in the mountains of central Tunisia.

We then make our way round the left ravine beneath the cliff upon which sits the town itself towards the theatre (B). I’m finding it hard to find a way to describe the theatre. Most of you will know what an ancient theatre looks like, I’m sure. So, to help, the closest I can picture in the real world to this monument is this:

After exploring the theatre, we travel round the back of the town, ignoring for now the narrow ascent, and to what you might consider the ‘opposite corner’. Here there is a waterfall (C). The water pours out of a hole in the cliff above, as though from an underground passage higher up than we are. Ther waterfall flows from here as a narrow river down the side of the ravine that we haven’t yet seen and disappears out into the valley However, at the base of the waterfall is a covered walkway that goes beneath and behind the waterfall. Here is the best impression I can manage of this:

And this is when it got kind of breathtaking. Behind the waterfall (D on the map) was a massive cave (there may have been a small hole in the centre high up open to the light now that I think about it) but mostly it felt like being in a cave, though it was quite bright inside. And the best bit? The cave was a huge, calm lake formed from the waterfall. Clear and glassy, it reflected and made gently lapping noises. And from the waterfall, the covered walkway continued across the lake on stilts until at the centre it became a wide, circular wooden covered pavillion surrounded by blue, almost glowing water. I give you the following to try and help create the impression:

Not, of course, meant be accurate, but to give you the feel and nudge you in the direction of the right impression. The interior of the pavillion was lit by lanterns and was decorative and beautifully peaceful. I was sort of sad to leave, while being excited because there was so much still to see.

We make our way back out past the waterfall and into the barren, brown, dusty heat. Now we backtrack, ignoring the narrow river, and to the ascent (E) that we passed on the way to the waterfall. This ascent is narrow and rocky and stepped. Clearly there were never any vehicles in the town. Nothing could reach it except on foot. It was a heck of a climb. Fof some reason my vertigo is not an issue here. This is as good an impression of the path as I can manage

Once at the plateau, we finally reach the town itself. Because the top is uneven, it is a maze of narrow streets and alleys with roofs sticking up between trees. The path we are (F) on appears to follow the top of a wall from where the ascent ends. There are numerous ways off this high path and down into the town. Sadly, we do not descend into the place itself. I’m not sure whether this was because of time constraints. I have the feeling it was possibly because of the danger of getting lost in the maze of paths and not being able to find one of only two exits from the town.

We stop briefly above the roofs to look down on G. G is a massive roof of Byzantine date, which is, in fact a great cistern that stores the rain water (and probably water carried by bucket and rope mechanism from the river below) and that feeds the entire town. This cistern is our only side trip from the wall, as it can be reached without going into the streets and we go to examine it before climbing back up to the wall. This is a composite collection to give you an impression of the town, its buildings, the wall, the cistern etc. Just gaze at them and let the feeling settle over you. Nice, isn’t it?

Sadly, once we reach the end of the wall-walk, what lies at the far end is another precipitous descent(H); the other exit from the town. Bidding a fond farewell and with a last, longing, glance across the rooftops, we begin to climb down. Once we reach the ground level once again, close to the narrow river, which we follow out of the ravine and back into the wider valley.

As dreams go, this one ranks up among my absolute all-time favourites. And I can still remember every last detail so clearly. Amazing.

Don’t you want to go there for real? When I have finished Dark Empress, and then likely Marius’ Mules III, I have several possible projects lined up, including a children’s book and one called Legion 23. However, I may have to shoehorn in another project in order to use this place. It’s just too amazing to waste. This is the third day in a row when my unconscious mind has told me I need to travel again. Wanderlust is now invading my dreams also.

Hope you enjoyed your virtual tour. Have a good weekend everyone.

For reference, the locations used to give impressions here include many that I just don’t really know, but also Constantine’s Basilica in Trier, Istanbul’s Cisterns, a ruined Armenian Cathedral, the walls of Girona, the paths at Masada, the Meteora monasteries, Petra’s theatre, and the Casale Rotondo near Rome.