The White-Luck Warrior: Book Review

I just finished reading The White-Luck Warrior, which is the fifth book in The Second Apocalypse series, and the second book in The Aspect-Emperor series. I definitely took my time with this one, and I don't think this trend is going to change any time soon.

This book picks up right where the last one left off, continuing all of the storylines that were started in the last one: The march of the Great Ordeal north toward Golgotterath, the slog of slogs led by Achamian as he tries to discover the secrets of Kellhus and the Dûnyain, Esmenet and her trials as the remaining head of the Empire, and the other more peripheral storylines involving Psatma Nannaferi and the titular White-Luck Warrior. And every one of these storylines ends in a cliffhanger to be continued in the next story.

This book is a major step up from the last one, with so much of the payoff from the last story coming on hard in this story. There are major battle sequences with the Great Ordeal throughout this entire story, disturbing developments with Achamian's mad crusade, major upheaval from Esmenet's perspective, and little developments with both Psatma and the titular character—which I'll admit I'm still completely confused about.

I don't think there was anything in this story that I particularly did not like, and I'm eager to get into the next one.

No Spoilers

The Great Ordeal

The previous book ended with Sorweel being magically enhanced by his slave such that he was now immune to the manipulation abilities of the Dûnyain. This book explores the consequences of that and takes the story in some interesting directions that I did not really see coming. This is partly because Sorweel, himself, has certain expectations for how he is being used by the Gods of the world. But the story provides a fair amount of set up, pushing the character in a certain direction, only to undercut that in the very end, suggesting that there might be entirely different intentions in place that will land this character in a completely different place.

The best fight scenes also take place here, with the Great Ordeal forced to confront the hordes of Sranc that are accumulating along its ranks. I particularly love the strategies that must be undertaken in the face of this threat, and especially the way progress is portrayed. Bakker does such a good job plunging the reader into the situations and making you feel what the characters are feeling in these moments. It's not necessarily a spoiler to say that things seem quite bleak, throughout.

Finally, I need to mention the portrayal of Proyas' character. He is only minimally depicted, but I think some interesting questions about belief and conviction are asked through him, though I'll save the specifics for the spoiler section.

The Slog of Slogs

This is probably my favorite part of the story, and also the most creepy. There are parts to this story that I did not expect to see, nor am I quite enthusiastic about seeing them, but the way they were portrayed was incredibly well done. Namely, this involves Cleric and his wonder drug called Qirri. What makes this so interesting as an inclusion is that the story seems quite unique for including things like drugs in it. In fantasy in particular, I don't think there are many examples of this kind of thing, so this made the story stand out. The biggest thing, however, is how the drug is portrayed, because it's not like anything that I have read before. Truly, this series is making me realize just how far I can take certain things in my own stories.

There is also what I think is the best plot twist in the story. I'm not sure how obvious the twist was, overall, but I definitely did not guess it, and I was left looking over some of the tricks that Bakker used to make the twist work, which I will go over in the spoiler section. One thing worth noting is that I did single out one of the key hints that this twist was coming as a potential flaw in the story in the last review, but I still missed the twist, so I'm hoping that is just indicative of how effective the tricks Bakker uses are to make the twist work.

Another major boon of this plot twist is the downstream implications. This twist is a revelation, to be sure, but it also opens up so many other questions about how the story is going to proceed, and Bakker isn't providing them right off the bat.

Esmenet and the Empire

Other reviewers have suggested that this storyline was pointless and might as well not exist, but I won't take it that far. In fact, there are individual sequences in this plotline that are quite simply amazing, and while I don't evaluate the whole as highly as the rest, those individual scenes are still among the best in the series, if not in books in general.

First, I do not think that the storyline has to be pointless. The focus is not necessarily on the same end as the other two plotlines, but I don't think that necessarily means that there is no reason behind any of this. The problem, I guess, is that the reader does not really know how everything will play out, or how it will impact the overall outcome of the story—or perhaps more cynically, whether it will have that impact.

But I have some thoughts on how the story is going to progress that don't involve spoilers, at least in that I have no idea if it will end up being correct. What I suspect will happen is that the Great Ordeal will fail horrifically by the end of this series, and the next series will then pick up for the last part of the story, where the Empire is now forced to fight a defensive battle against the No-God. So, while the Empire seems pointless and worth abandoning, it will actually be one of the things that saves the world.

Before I move on, I just have to say that there is one scene involving Inrilatas that I think is one of my favorite scenes, full stop. Bakker's ability to write these compelling interrogation scenes is unparalleled, and it reminds me of those excellent conversations between Cnaiür and Kellhus from the original story.

The Rest

The rest is barely even a plotline. Psatma is involved with the Fanim, though I can't really say how or what any of it means because so much of it is so peripheral. And the White-Luck Warrior is also something that is barely featured, and just leaves me confused. In the spoiler section, I will go into some of my theories about the character, however.

Overall

Overall, I think this is an amazing continuation of the series. The story is taken in some dark and twisted directions, and the signposts at the end of the book only suggest that things will get even worse. I have a serious weak spot for these kinds of stories, and as I mentioned before, I will definitely being take inspiration from the story in my own writing, as it shows me just how far I can take some things.

I will give this a 9/10.

Spoilers

The Great Ordeal

I finished The Judging Eye thinking that Sorweel was unaware of the magic that his slave, Porsparian, had used on him. But that notion is very quickly disabused in the beginning of the novel, when Sorweel tries to convince Zsoronga that he is not actually a Believer King. And as I mentioned in the non-spoiler section, Sorweel is not only aware of the magic, but comes to believe that he is chosen by the Gods to kill the Aspect-Emperor by his own hand. Not only is his immunity to the Dûnyain powers there, but he is also given a Chorae by the Goddess Yatwer, with Zsoronga telling him that he is destined to use this to kill Kellhus.

This scene in particular stood out to me because of the portrayal of the Goddess as repulsive and vile looking, especially with this fact highlighted by Bakker himself in the chapter: "If the Gods did not pretend to be human, men would recoil from them as from spiders." It is quotes and portrayals like these that make me hope that the place of the Gods is questioned in the future of the story. With things like sorcery inexplicably condemned, with Gods apparently being blind to the No-God, and with sentiments like these being adopted, it does make me wonder whether there is going to be a major metaphysical and ethical upheaval, where everything is flipped on its head. The Judging Eye suggests that this might not be the case, as it apparently validates the idea that sorcery is damned and that Chorae are divine, but I suspect that even this might be overthrown in the future.

The developments that set Sorweel up to take out Kellhus are undercut in two ways throughout the book. The first manner in which Sorweel and his goal are complicated is with Sorweel confronting the fact that Kellhus' crusade against Golgotterath seems to be real. The presence of the Sranc, and especially the fact that they seemed to be organized in some capacity, make him confront the possibility that maybe Kellhus actually is truthful. Zsoronga (I think) makes the more nuanced point that the Apocalypse might be true, even as Kellhus' sanctity might be a lie. Sorweel never does come to a conclusion, instead left to question and continue to live in uncertainty.

As I said, that was the first way in which Sorweel's set up as a divine assassin are undercut. The second way is in his physical separation from the Ordeal, when he is handed off as a hostage to the Nonmen in order to secure their loyalty in the coming fight. This constitutes the most serious challenge, with Zsoronga refusing to even believe that Sorweel is being sent off, his conviction being so set. Zsoronga is left with the Chorae by Sorweel, when the latter realizes that he will not need it; he promises to return when he can.

When Sorweel is handed off as a hostage, he is given alongside Anasûrimbor Serwa and Moënghus, and slowly comes to know each of them. He becomes infatuated with Serwa, and learns about the regular nightmares that she suffers due to her usage of the Gnosis. Among the more disturbing parts of the story is when Sorweel learns that the two siblings (not by blood) are actually lovers. The consequences of this revelation are yet to be seen, but given who Bakker is, I imagine it will matter a lot in the coming books.

Another thing worth mentioning are the questions Serwa asks about Sorweel's beliefs. Because his actual beliefs are shielded by Yatwer, it naturally follows that his facial expressions are inconsistent with some of what he says. Basically, their face readings suggest that he is far more sympathetic than what some of the things he says suggests. I think Bakker is planting the seeds for Sorweel's protection to break down, as someone like Serwa realizes that something is awry.

Aside from Sorweel, a character that is only minimally portrayed, yet profoundly important and interesting, is Proyas. There are a number of conversations that he has with Kellhus that make you ask questions about the nature of belief and conviction. Proyas is clearly established as a true believer right from the outset. He sees Kellhus as divine, and his conviction is so much so that he is willing to do great perceived harm on himself when commanded to (I'm thinking of when he plunges his face into a fire at Kellhus' behest).

But around the same time that Proyas is meeting with Kellhus, the latter is making these world-shattering admissions to him; quite literally, he is admitting that Achamian was correct, that he really is Dûnyain, with the obvious implication that he isn't actually a prophet. But Bakker takes this and twists it in strange ways because of how incoherent the response is. Proyas doesn't explicitly resist the belief; indeed, it almost seems like he just accepts it; after all, Kellhus is the Prophet and has to be believed. The problem is that Proyas doesn't seem to grasp what the implications of accepting it are. In his mind, Kellhus is Dûnyain, yet also the Prophet, even though the former implies that the latter is false, and was even stated as false by Achamian.

The conversations are even stranger knowing that Kellhus is probably wholly aware of how Proyas will respond to him making these kinds of admissions. Him telling Proyas won't hurt anything, though it does make you ask why he is doing it. Is there something to be gained? I wonder if Proyas is paradoxically strengthened in his convictions by undercutting these potential challenges ahead of time.

Finally, for the Great Ordeal section are the numerous battle sequences as the Ordeal marches north. I especially loved learning about the strategies that the Consult was using in order to fight the battles, namely how they were bringing the Sranc together into massive coalescing hoards that grew seemingly infinitely. Something that I mentioned in the non-spoiler section was how Bakker wrote these sequences, making the Sranc seem insurmountable. They were massacred on mass, yet no progress seemed to ever be made. It was a moving wall of bodies that will dog the Ordeal until it reaches Golgotterath.

But the battle sequences ends on a cliff hanger of a sorts that only shows just how sick and vile the story is going to get, making me more excited than ever, lol. Kellhus is finally forced to give the order to his armies that they are going to have to subsist on the flesh of Sranc. The back of the third book is already hinting that this is going to have some ghastly consequences, and I am so excited for this. Bakker's ability to make sequences absolutely sickening is unparalleled, and it's scenarios like this that lay the groundwork. Yummy.

Finally, finally, there is this ominous passage for the future of the story: "For in truth, all the Men of the Ordeal in their countless, shining thousands were little more than a vehicle for the safe conveyance of the Schools." How badly will the average soldier get fucked in the future? My guess is that the main army will have to be abandoned in the final moments leading up to the final battle.

The Slog of Slogs

The Slog of Slogs was incredibly well executed. Bakker wrote with fast moving scene breaks and with a certain kind of repetition that allowed the reader to fall into a kind of pattern, as the characters in the story fell into their groove. I was especially impressed with Bakker's ability to communicate the tiresome, slog of a journey without letting the events become too boring. Because of the inherently repetitive nature of the sequence, it requires special care paid to the subtle changes that take place over the course of the story. In this case, the progression of the Qirri addiction was what changed over time. And this led to some of the sexiest, erotic passages that I have ever read:

"Each night they queue before the Nonman, suck from the teat that is his finger. Sometimes he clasps their cheek with his free hand, gazes long and melancholy into their eyes, while his finger probes their tongue, their gums and teeth."

"She leans back her head, parts her lips. She closes her eyes. She can taste her breath, moist and hot, passing from her. The finger is hard and cold. She closes the pliant lobes of her mouth about it, warming and wetting its stubborn white skin. It comes alive, pressing down the centre of her tongue, tracing the line of her gums. It tastes of strength and dead fire."

I've never read erotica before, but this was definitely a splendid, delicious first taste.

I also mentioned before that the portrayal of drug addiction was not something terribly common in fantasy. This has motivated me to include some kind of drug in some of my own stories (though I think the first one will not be fantasy). But, as I mentioned in the non-spoiler section, the manner in which Bakker depicts the drug is what sells it. Anyone can just throw a drug in a story. What makes the portrayal such a standout is just how creepy and sexual it is. Genuinely, I don't know if any other author can get away with this kind of stuff. Simply describing it in the abstract makes it seem so weird and impossible to recommend. And maybe I wouldn't recommend this series to many people. Scenes like this are keeping with the precedent set by that hawt period blood sex scene that Psatma had with the White-Luck Warrior in the first book of this recent series.

And as I mentioned, the best plot twist comes in this storyline, with the reveal that Lord Kosoter is actually a Zaudunyani, and is there at the behest of Kellhus. This is honestly something that I never actually considered, and I was blown out of my mind when the reveal came. I probably should have guessed it, too. In the last book review, I questioned why Kellhus would just let Achamian live, and I did not find the dismissive hand-waving that Esmenet was the reason to be at all convincing. But because Kellhus is behind Lord Kosoter's actions and is helping Achamian get to his end goal, there is now good reason for him to keep the Wizard alive. (Strangely enough, I actually theorized that Kellhus might have had a hand in Achamian's trek north, though I thought it was through Mimara that Kellhus had instigated it. Either way, I completely forgot about this theory and somehow managed to be surprised by the reveal when I got to the relevant part of the story).

One thing I respect about the reveal is Bakker's confidence that we, in turn, have confidence in his own writing skills. Once this reveal settles in, the first thing that comes to mind is the question of what the hell Kellhus has up his sleeve. A lesser writer might feel compelled to answer this question by the end of the novel, or ask enough questions about it. But Bakker doesn't even really do this, instead leaving the reader to hang and trust in his abilities. Ishual looks to be a desolate ruin, so maybe that's a small hint. But we'll have to see.

My suspicion is that Ishual is hidden underground, somewhere. I remember from the original prologue that when Kellhus first left his home, he felt somewhat disoriented, as if he wasn't used to using his senses. I have no idea how this will become relevant, but I am certain that it is relevant, and it will be a major impediment to Achamian's progress. Additionally, you have the consider the fact that this is a place where the Dûnyain originate. Can Achamian really just show up one day and start asking questions? What exactly is his strategy in this? I don't think he has one. I'm trusting that this isn't a mistake on Bakker's part, but simply on Achamian's.

Another dimension in which this plot twist can be looked at is the execution. I picked up on a number of tricks that Bakker played in order to mislead and make us think the story is going to go another way. One useful trick is to fix the readers on a particular ethical conundrum that depends on the story moving in one way. In this case, the reader was made to consider Achamian's decision to lie to Lord Kosoter and essentially lead all his crew to their deaths. Indeed, I did a little bit of speculation about how the crew might respond when it was finally revealed that they were lied to and used. But while you spend time thinking about the implications of Achamian's lie, you forget to ask whether it is actually Achamian who is being misled, here. Even better, Achamian's motivations are not lost. Even if he isn't taking advantage of these people in the way we think he is, his choices were still what they were, and the implications regarding his character are still great.

Which leads to the next point: Achamian's character. I love how ambiguous his motivations are. Presumably, he is in the right. We should not trust Kellhus, even if there is a looming apocalypse—especially if there is one. But what is driving Achamian is not exactly noble. He is a cuckhold, someone who was personally taken advantage of, and now he has completely flipped on his approach in addressing the apocalypse. He openly admits that this dissonance exists, yet he doesn't really address it. The reader has no idea if Achamian is actually fighting for what is best for the world, and neither does he.

The final act of the story is another very popular part of the story. I'm going to have to admit, I think that dragons are massively overrated, so I did not think that this part of the story was nearly as cool as everyone else thinks. That's not to say that I didn't enjoy it, of course. In fact, there are a number of info drops that are actually worth mentioning. First, the dragon implied that he had traveled with the Inchoroi to other planets and successfully dropped their population below a particular level multiple times before. Second, was the specification that the goal was to drop the population below a particular level. The goal is not necessarily to kill everyone, but just most people. And finally, the goal is close off this world to the heavens in order to save the Consult sorcerers from damnation. I think I already knew this part, but this was still a clear articulation of the idea.

I also liked how Sarl's character was depicted throughout. Ever since the horrifying events of the last book, and because of the unrelenting slog of a journey in this one, his character goes progressively insane, and we last see him babbling about with the beard of Lord Kosoter's decapitated head woven into his own beard.

A real chopper!

Esmenet and the Empire

Right from the beginning, I just have to say that this section of the story has one of the best scenes in the book. Of course, I am talking about the interrogation scene between Inrilatas and Maithanet, with little Chucky as the observer. There is just something about Bakker's ability to write these kinds of scenes, particularly the manner in which he depicts intelligence, that I just find so compelling. This scene is right up there with the conversations between Kellhus and Cnaiür, and the only problem is that poor ol' Inrilatas is killed by the end. While it is disappointing that the character was so neatly and quickly killed off, it doesn't really affect my overall enjoyment.

One of the best parts of the conversation was the opportunity to see inside the head of Maithanet. We get to see his view of Kellhus and his worries about his half-brother's approach to the Great Ordeal. It was actually interesting to see the worry that Kellhus might be influenced by his love for Esmenet. It reminded me of Kellhus' very slight ability to feel emotion in the original trilogy. It's easy to forget that Kellhus actually cried at the end of The Warrior Prophet. Bakker seems to be in a rather concerted effort to instigate this slip of the mind, especially with a particular scene he has with Proyas, where he says that love is for lesser beings. This makes me think that something might happen later in the series, where Kellhus' humanity might break to the surface in some profound way, similar to how it had in the second book.

I also liked seeing how Inrilatas was basically a Dûnyain Diogenes, publicly shitting in front of people and all around just violating the norms we take for granted. He apparently fashioned a knife out of his semen and some cloth. And I just loved how self-aware he was about his repulsiveness and why he is so hated. Best, through him we get to see confirmation of the theory that Samarmas is the Dark Passenger inside Chucky, though the cause and the implications have yet to be articulated.

I had also asked questions about how Chucky could slip past the analytical gaze of Kellhus and Maithanet, and that was addressed in this book. Apparently, they simply operated under the assumption that he was too young, and he simply abused that assumption. So, the assumption that he was not a threat was enough for Maithanet, and perhaps even Kellhus, to not even consider that he might not be trustworthy. And I guess this works. People are often blinded by their assumptions, and it can even seem ridiculous from the outside. I think this is also an important way in which Bakker shows that Dûnyain are still human. They still have their unexamined assumptions.

And the moment where Inrilatas exposes Maithanet's assumption and makes him question Chucky is just so fun and exciting.

Esmenet's struggles are not at the forefront of the story, though I did enjoy the sequence where she is forced to flee the castle when Maithanet takes over, and confronts her past as a prostitute again. This is something that she will never completely overcome. And her character becomes especially interesting when she decides to use violence to compel the prostitute into compliance, rather than appealing to their common past. Even as she will never escape her past, she won't accept or submit to it in profound ways, either.

This is also the portion of the story where the White-Luck Warrior, the titular character, is featured. If I am being honest, I don't really understand why the book was named after him. He just seems so peripheral, and I really don't know what is going on. Apparently, Esmenet accidentally hired him to kill Maithanet—she intended to hire some other assassin—but I did not even catch this in the book; I simply read it in Bakker's summary at the beginning of The Great Ordeal. And then he kills Maithanet in the end, only appearing to the do the deed, and then he disappears.

I know that he will be built upon more in the later books. I'm not saying that his character is pointless or poorly done. I just don't know basically anything, and I had gone into this book thinking that I would learn a whole lot more.

I guess I do have some speculative theories. I'm thinking that the White-Luck Warrior might act through other characters, such that he is embodied by them, rather than being a separate conscious being. So, the Warrior managed to kill Maithanet by embodying another character who was nearby. I don't know how Esmenet seeing him plays into this, so I won't comment on that, lol. But another implication is that Sorweel is also the White-Luck Warrior, or at least whom he will embody when the time comes to kill Kellhus. The reason I am leaning in this direction is because I think there could be interesting questions to explore regarding the nature of consciousness. Is the White-Luck Warrior distinct from Sorweel? What would they have in common, and what exactly would distinguish them?

So far, I think all the scene with Psatma are weird. They aren't bad, nor are they flaws, they are just so peripheral that I barely know what I'm even supposed to say about her or her plot line at this point. She is an old woman trapped in a young woman's body. She unleashed the White-Luck Warrior, and she is now involved with the Fanim as they rebel against the Empire. How she ties into the story thematically remains to be seen.

Another thing that comes to mind involves what is unfortunately a kinda-spoiler. If you've only read up to this book, then don't read this paragraph, unless you don't mind a mild spoiler for the later stories. I try to avoid looking on online encyclopedias because it always ends up spoiling you; but I kind of did it when I looked up the No-God and read the first sentence of its description. I didn't get any real details, so this isn't a serious spoiler, but I did read that the No-God is supposed to be a philosophical zombie. This means the character or device is another way in which Bakker intends to examine the nature of consciousness. If unacquainted, a philosophical zombie is a thing that is physically identical to a real person, but it lacks conscious experience. Namely, it is indistinguishable from a real person, so if stabbed it will act as if it hurts, despite it not having the qualia associated with pain. The p-zombie is used to try and argue that physicalism is false, and that consciousness must be more than the physical. When I saw this, I was immediately reminded of two things: that the Gods apparently can't see the No-God, and the strange speech that the No-God had in the depictions that we have seen up to this point: "What do you see?" "I must know what you see." "Tell me." "What am I?" "I cannot s[ee]." If the Gods can't see the No-God, this would be neatly explained by the fact that it lacks consciousness. And while none of the dialogue is acting as if he can see or has any conscious experience, the fact that he is asking after the experiences still leads me to make the connection. I theorized before that the No-God was actually Kellhus, and this might suggest that it is actually a physical copy of Kellhus, so maybe not him exactly; or maybe that's exactly what he is, the question of which would be precisely the point.

Conclusion

Overall, this book was near flawless. I'm not really sure I have any real complaints. I will give it a 9/10.