Peter V. Brett’s The Warded Man, published in the UK as The Painted Man, is the best fantasy debut I’ve read since Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind. This book had me reading well into the night, and it is, to use a very hackneyed phrase, a real page-turner.
The Warded Man grabbed me right from the start. The plot is loaded with action and balanced by plenty of character development, but it’s relatively straightforward, and I found this a refreshing change from the sweeping, complex epics that I normally read. Also, Brett employs a nice twist or two that you don’t expect. The prose is strong and shows talent, and the dialogue is perfectly suited to the setting.
The Warded Man is set in a world where humans can only go outside in daylight. When the sun goes down, demons rise from a mysterious netherworld called the Core. (We know little about this Core, though there is some interesting foreshadowing toward the end of the book.) Nothing can stop demons but written, painted, or carved wards placed on houses, barns, sheds, fences, set into the walls of a city, or placed on poles in farmers’ fields.
These wards have kept human civilization from total collapse, but the nightly demon attacks prevent civilization from advancing. Their religion teaches that human society was strong and scientifically advanced until they forgot about the First Demon War and committed the sin of pride, believing only in themselves and their technology. When the demons returned, they virtually wiped out humanity before the defensive wards were rediscovered and put into use. The ancient attack wards, however, have not been rediscovered, so the demons can only be held at bay, not defeated.
There are three coming-of-age stories in the first half of the book, and personal responsibility and dealing with the demons in one’s own heart are major themes in each character’s development. Arlen, a young farm-boy, becomes a warrior-Messenger — those brave souls who travel from town to town with nothing but a portable warded circle to protect them at night. Arlen is obsessed with finding a way to defeat the demons, and that obsession costs him friends, love, and opportunities for a decent life. The orphan boy Rojer Half-grip becomes a jongleur (a bard) whose music entrances demons. And Leesha, a powerless girl, gradually gains power from her knowledge as an apprentice Herb Gatherer (healer).
If I were Brett’s editor, I would have advised against having all three central characters be so young — it’s just been done so many times that it’s a fantasy cliché — but Brett pulls it off. I look forward to further development of these beautiful but flawed characters in the coming books (there are supposed to be at least three).
Peter Brett touches on the age-old theme of atheism vs. religion, looking at both sides of that debate, and I think he’s got more for us there. There’s also a parallel to the tension between Christianity and Islam, a courageous subject to tackle. I also look forward to learning more about the Core itself, the effect of Arlen’s use of the attack wards, different kinds of demons we did not see in The Warded Man, and the lands beyond the limited range of the people in this story. And I’m hoping for more explanation of the warding system.
Since there’s no geographical context, and the description is sparing, I really wanted a map in this book. The characters refer to maps, but we’re not given one, and that disappointed me. A little more description would not be remiss, either.
Peter Brett has made an excellent beginning with The Warded Man, and I eagerly await The Desert Spear. —A.B.
The Warded Man grabbed me right from the start. The plot is loaded with action and balanced by plenty of character development, but it’s relatively straightforward, and I found this a refreshing change from the sweeping, complex epics that I normally read. Also, Brett employs a nice twist or two that you don’t expect. The prose is strong and shows talent, and the dialogue is perfectly suited to the setting.
The Warded Man is set in a world where humans can only go outside in daylight. When the sun goes down, demons rise from a mysterious netherworld called the Core. (We know little about this Core, though there is some interesting foreshadowing toward the end of the book.) Nothing can stop demons but written, painted, or carved wards placed on houses, barns, sheds, fences, set into the walls of a city, or placed on poles in farmers’ fields.
These wards have kept human civilization from total collapse, but the nightly demon attacks prevent civilization from advancing. Their religion teaches that human society was strong and scientifically advanced until they forgot about the First Demon War and committed the sin of pride, believing only in themselves and their technology. When the demons returned, they virtually wiped out humanity before the defensive wards were rediscovered and put into use. The ancient attack wards, however, have not been rediscovered, so the demons can only be held at bay, not defeated.
There are three coming-of-age stories in the first half of the book, and personal responsibility and dealing with the demons in one’s own heart are major themes in each character’s development. Arlen, a young farm-boy, becomes a warrior-Messenger — those brave souls who travel from town to town with nothing but a portable warded circle to protect them at night. Arlen is obsessed with finding a way to defeat the demons, and that obsession costs him friends, love, and opportunities for a decent life. The orphan boy Rojer Half-grip becomes a jongleur (a bard) whose music entrances demons. And Leesha, a powerless girl, gradually gains power from her knowledge as an apprentice Herb Gatherer (healer).
If I were Brett’s editor, I would have advised against having all three central characters be so young — it’s just been done so many times that it’s a fantasy cliché — but Brett pulls it off. I look forward to further development of these beautiful but flawed characters in the coming books (there are supposed to be at least three).
Peter Brett touches on the age-old theme of atheism vs. religion, looking at both sides of that debate, and I think he’s got more for us there. There’s also a parallel to the tension between Christianity and Islam, a courageous subject to tackle. I also look forward to learning more about the Core itself, the effect of Arlen’s use of the attack wards, different kinds of demons we did not see in The Warded Man, and the lands beyond the limited range of the people in this story. And I’m hoping for more explanation of the warding system.
Since there’s no geographical context, and the description is sparing, I really wanted a map in this book. The characters refer to maps, but we’re not given one, and that disappointed me. A little more description would not be remiss, either.
Peter Brett has made an excellent beginning with The Warded Man, and I eagerly await The Desert Spear. —A.B.
