This
is the first book of The Darkwater Saga, whose medieval setting is in the
twentieth year of King Laidir’s reign. The key figure is Willet Dura raised to minor
nobility by Laidir, King of Collum whose citadel is Brunard. Dura served as the
king’s reeve and the story begins as he is summoned to investigate the brutal
murder of Robin, a guard whose keep was Elwin, a member of one of the religious
orders known as the Servants. In an attempt to glean information from Elwin who
survived the attack, the Servant pronounces “Domere” upon Dura and expires.
From that moment on, Willet Dura is able to delve the minds of all those whom
he touches.
The
story unfolds in a tale of Dura’s encounters with the rest of the higher nobles
who despise him, a mysterious group known as the Vigil, the four religious
orders (Servants, Vanguard, Clast, and Absold), and the menace of Laewan whose
minions are those who were once lured into the Darkwater Forest to become his blind
followers.
Willet
Dura himself is a survivor of the Darkwater - in a past war, he led a band of
warriors into the dreaded forest as a matter of survival against an
overwhelming enemy; only Dura escapes, the details of which he is not able to
recall and marks him as mysterious and dangerous.
The
singular bright spot in his dismal existence is his betrothed, Lady Gael, with whom
he shares an indomitable love. Yet, the prospect of their marriage is increasingly
threatened.
Dura
continues his investigation and slowly discovers that there are as many who
seek his death as those who are sworn to protect him. As his inquiry becomes
more involved, he unearths a plot that threatens the survival of kingdoms and
all that he holds dear.
I
grant that the story itself is intriguing and goes a long way in sustaining one’s
interest. However, I am quite distraught. One might take issue with its anemic
theological world-view (there is an obvious Trinitarian Godhead that
corresponds to the Three Persons of the Christian faith) in which little of redemption
in this present evil world is artistically dealt with. But that is not what
disturbs me. It is the writing itself.
When
I first considered reviewing this novel, I read cursory samplings of some of
Carr’s other works, which seemed to hold promise. But I found the writing in
this novel to be extremely disappointing. I suspect there are few on this tour,
if any, who would agree with me, or at least not to the same extent.
There
is a constant commentary whose purpose, I guess, is to bring the characters to
life, but I found to be unrealistic and very distracting. The relentless narrative
of body language and facial expressions was simply overbearing: shrugging
shoulders, furrowed brows, lips thin, lips tighten, lips quiver, gazes go flat,
blossoming anger, blossoming heat, arched eye brows, bile in the throat,
chewing the inside of cheeks, faces knotting, standing on the balls of feet, etc.
Combined with this were silly metaphors. I catalogued a list of examples, which
could have easily been extended. Here are some of them:
p. 46, Invisible hands reached inside my gut and
started kneading my stomach like dough.
p. 77, He scowled down at me, his brows meeting over
his hooked nose.
p. 77, He spat and growled a curse that could have
stripped paint from wood.
p. 78, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.
p. 112, I felt a trickle of sweat begin to trace an
icy path down my spine.
p. 114, My stomach, still queasy, started tumbling
in my gut, like an acrobat but not nearly as graceful.
p. 160, His voice rose as the rage trapped behind
his eyes broke free.
p. 167, A network of wrinkles radiated out from her
mouth, a tight circle at the center of a spider’s web that communicated anger
and fear.
p. 170, I could feel the tension in my throat, like
lute strings tightened to the breaking point.
p. 172, Uncertainty drained from her like water
through the sluice of a dam.
p. 172, She smiled, but her lips imitated the quiver
in her fingers.
p. 174, A tremor began in the outer two fingers of
his right hand, working its way up his arm until Gael nudged me.
p. 179, A distant rumble of thunder rolled across my
hearing like a drummer’s knell before an execution.
p. 206, My stomach collapsed into a hole in my
middle, pulling my breath and heartbeat with it.
p. 228, He could feel his eyes trying to start from
his head.
p. 232, Cold like the point of a dagger in winter,
traced its way through my middle.
p. 238, Anger welled up through my middle, spreading
to my arms and legs until the chill from the air faded and my face burned with
shame and anger.
p. 260, His eyebrow, as thick over his nose as it
was over his eyes, lowered some more.
p. 262, Her brows made half circles over her dark
brown eyes.
p. 284, I shook myself like a dog in the rain and
stepped behind the barrel.
p. 297, Fear ripped through me like the disturbance
of a pebble dropped in a reflecting pool…
p. 309, Her brow lowered, and a vertical line
appeared between her eyes.
p. 384, I smiled, forcing my face to don an expression
that belied the fear churning in my gut.
p. 399, He eyed Bolt, his dark eyes squinting until
they almost disappeared.
p. 401, A giant hand had hollowed out my middle
leaving naught but a shell of skin and bones. Spots swam in front of my eyes.
p. 402, Bile built at the back of my throat as more
puzzle pieces slipped into place.
I received a review copy from BethanyHouse for this blog tour.
Amazon The Shock Of Night
Author Website
Participant's list:
Thomas Clayton Booher
Keanan Brand
Beckie Burnham
Carol Bruce Collett
Carol Gehringer
Victor Gentile
Rani Grant
Rebekah Gyger
Bruce Hennigan
Janeen Ippolito
Carol Keen
Rebekah Loper
Jennette Mbewe
Shannon McDermott
Meagan @ Blooming with Books
Rebecca LuElla Miller
Joan Nienhuis
Nissa
Audrey Sauble
Chawna Schroeder
Jessica Thomas
Robert Treskillard
Shane Werlinger
Phyllis Wheeler
Nicole White
