It seems that trilogies don't make enough money anymore - I was sure that "A Storm of Swords" would be the final installment of George R R Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire sequence, only to find out that there are another two to go. This is also the case with Tom Arden's "The Orokon" sequence, a set of five books that begin with the Harlequin's Dance.
The prologue to this book is apalling. It's not so much bad as just horrendously cliched - a sub-Tolkein ramble through the prehistoric god-time of the world of the Orokon, where the dying god Orok bequeathed his children five stones which were then subsequently taken from them after they started squabbling. And thus we have the five races of humanity in the Orokon, predictably ordered around the five elements (the fifth, Shadow, ascribed to the rebellious god Koros and his gypsy children, the Vagas or vagabonds).
What a relief, then, to find that the meat of the book has so little to do with the lame mythology in the opening pages. On the contrary, for the first half of the book it is really rather good. Arden's writing is a cut above the rest and has a detatched, ethereal quality to it. The narrative flits from character to character, back and forth in time in a style reminiscent of M. John Harrison. Characters and scenes are viewed as if the reader is a ghost in the room or a telepathic parasite, gaining significant insight into the motives and personalities of the characters whilst remaining emotionally uninvolved. This is no doubt the author's intention, as (rather pretentiously) he names the characters at the start in a theatre-program list of "Players". Arden's ability for grotesque imagery is also profound. The whole atmosphere is not dissimilar to the film A Company of Wolves.
The plot, sadly, is lacking. For the first couple of hundred pages I hardly cared, as the series of vignettes that illustrate the characters are captivating and original. The way that the narrative traces the lives of Cata, the wild girl, Polty, a bully who is frequently beaten by his puritan father and Jem, the cripple and focal character, is absorbing. Later on, though, the flaws become apparent. There is precious little advancement of the characters later on: at best the initial sketches are further embellished or balanced by counterpoint, at worst the grotesques that are so entertaining in the early stages are simply re-iterated. The stylistic points are also unfortunately shallow. The later 18th-century millieu of muskets, tricorn hats, "bluejackets", novels written by anonymous female authors, gluttonous banquets and opressive puritan dogma are the literal equivalent of eye candy - initially intriguing for the novelty but illustrating little of the social complexity of the times.
One almost gets a sense that there is a whole world of political intrigue and events lying beneath the surface, but unfortunately these are never brought to light, the author instead preferring to make some allusion to Jem's brother Tor's treasonous activities (as part of the "redjacket" movement, opposing the bluejacket regime, he is the Red Avenger - a nod to the Scarlet Pimpernel, perhaps?) in a short visit early on in the book, then to only have him emerge three hundred pages later on the brink of death with little to tell of his adventures. Many of the characters seem to be motivated by forces outside the reader's perspective. The subtleties might just be Arden's foreshadowing of the greater plot to come, or they may become apparent with further reading. I for one wouldn't be inclined to read this novel again, however, as I don't think it quite deserves it. In any case, the plot when it arrives is woefully uninvolving, as Arden abandons his gentle unravelling of the individual characters for a more heavy handed approach. It ought to work - political factions, lies, romance between the principle characters - but I was essentially unmoved. In many cases it reminded me of Katherine Kerr's Daggerspell in this respect.
For the first half of the book, I was sure that it would be a seven out of ten novel. The poor plotting in the latter part, though, is worth no more than a three. I'd therefore give the book a five out of ten, and I'd recommend that interested readers cover the first half of the novel (omitting the dreadful prologue) and continue until they get bored. I'd be happy to supply anyone who gives up a potted version of the plot, if they haven't already guessed it by then.
