Like books in any genre, fantasy novels are often
bound to the very conventions that once made them unique. Forbidding quests, fantastic magic, terrible
secrets, and unspeakable evils kept readers guessing as they race from one page
to the next, their imaginations scarcely able to keep up. Now, however, with so many books—and films
based on those books—the surprise has lessened somewhat. Indeed, we often know exactly what to
expect, and many authors take a certain glee in re-writing exactly those works
they once delighted in (Eragon, anyone?). Unfortunately, fantasy literature is supposed to transport to
forgotten realms, lands that exist in the mist between history and the
imagination, fantastic yet faintly probable.
To do this, the world has to seem realistic, lived-in, yet unlike any
other world we’ve encountered. The
characters, too, have to be like us, share our own emotions and ideals, while
at the same time being not like us at all. This is a tall order for a genre which, like most genres, seems
to exist simply by writing-to-order, giving us yet another dragon story, or yet
another mythical quest narrative. Not
surprisingly, even the most eager fantasy reader approaches the latest release
(especially by an indie author) with considerable trepidation. I approached Patricia Reding’s Oathtaker
in this exact frame of mind: optimistic, yet skeptical that I would read
anything I hadn’t read a dozen times before.
What could possibly make this work stand out in a field crowded with the
great and the not-so-great?
