Russ Allbery: Review: A Shadow in Summer

Review: A Shadow in Summer, by Daniel Abraham

A Shadow in Summer is a high fantasy novel, the first of (as the
name implies) a completed four-book series. Daniel Abraham is perhaps
better known as half of the writing pair behind James S.A. Corey, author
of the Expanse series. This was his first
novel.

Otah was the sixth son of a Khai, sent like many of the unwanted later
children of the powerful to learn the secrets of the andat and be trained
as a poet. He learned his lessons well enough to reject the school and its
teachings and walk away.

Amat Kyaan has worked her way up from nothing to become the senior
overseer of the foreign Galtic House Wilsin in the sun-drenched port city
of Saraykeht. Liat is her apprentice, distracted by young love. Maati is a
new apprentice poet, having endured his training and sent to learn from
Heshai how to eventually hold the andat Removing-The-Part-That-Continues,
better known as Seedless. None of them know they will find themselves
entangled in a plot to destroy the poet of Saraykeht and, through him, the
city’s most potent economic tool.

A poet in this world is not what we would think of a poet. They are, in
essence, magical slave-drivers who capture the essence of an andat, a
spirit embodying an idea that is coerced into the prison of volition and
obedience by the poet. The andat Seedless, the embodiment of the concept
of removing the spark of life, is central to the economic wealth of
Saraykeht in a way that is startling in its simplicity: Seedless can
remove the seeds from a warehouse full of cotton at a thought. This gives
Saraykeht a massive productivity advantage in the cotton trade.

Seedless is also a powerful potential weapon. What he can do to cotton, he
could as easily do to any other crop, or to people. The Galts are not fond
of the independence and power of Saraykeht, but as long as the city
controls a powerful andat, they do not dare to attack it directly.
Indirectly, though… that’s another matter.

This is one of those fantasy novels with meticulous and thoughtful
world-building, careful and evocative prose, and a complex ensemble cast
of interesting characters that the novel then attempts to make utterly
miserable and complicit in their own misery. There should be a name for
this style of writing. It’s not tragedy because the ending is not tragic,
precisely. It’s not magic realism; the andats are openly magical, which
makes this clearly high fantasy. But Abraham approaches the story from the
type of realist frame that considers the pain and desperation of the
characters to be more interesting than their ability to overcome
challenges.

Amat starts the story as an admirable, sharp-witted expert manager, so her
life is destroyed and she’s subjected to sexual violence. Heshai loathes
himself and veers between a tragic figure and a wastrel as the story
systematically undermines opportunities for redemption. Maati is young and
idealistic, so of course every character in the book sets out to crush his
idealism under the weight of unforeseen consequences. There is a sad and
depressing love triangle, because this is exactly the sort of book that
has a sad and depressing love triangle. At the end of the novel, everyone
who survives is older and wiser in the sense that some stories seem to
think wisdom comes from the accumulation of trauma.

I find books like this so immensely frustrating because their merits are
so clear. The world-building is careful and detailed in a way that
includes economic systems, unlike so much fantasy. It is full of small,
intriguing touches, such as the use of posture and gesture to communicate
the emotional valence of one’s words. Abraham understands the moral
implications of poets and andats and the story tackles them head-on. The
writing flows beautifully and gave me a strong sense of the city. I wanted
to like this book for the obvious skill that went into it, and sometimes I
even managed.

And yet, it’s taken me three months to finish A Shadow in Summer
because I simply do not want to spend this much time around miserable
people. I would get through one or two chapters in a night and then wanted
to read something happy or defiant or heroic, rather than watching
slow-motion train wrecks intermixed with desperate attempts to navigate
stifling layers of immoral systems. It’s not that the story lacks a moral
compass. The characters are sincerely trying to make the world a better
place, with some success. It even delivers a happy ending of sorts. But so
much of the journey was watching the lives of the characters fall apart.

I am completely unsurprised that some people loved this book. I’m still
intrigued enough by the world-building that I’m half-tempted to try to
read the sequel even after having to drag myself through this one. I had a
similar reaction to Abraham’s The
Dragon’s Path, though, so I think Abraham is just not for me. I may get
back to the Expanse at some point, but having to drag myself through both
of his solo novels I’ve tried, in two different series, probably indicates
an incompatibility between author and reader. That’s a shame, given the
quality of the writing.

Followed by A Betrayal in Winter.

Content notes: Sexual and reproductive violence as significant plot
elements.

Rating: 6 out of 10