My love for A Gentleman Bastards sequence springs from my bookish friends who ignore my mounting pile of to-read books at home and on my office table, and keep shoving good books to my face faster than we both know I consume them.
I delved into The Lies of Locke Lamora from the prodding of my office mate, and to satiate my newly born hunger for fantasy novels. Much as I was eager for this book, it took me quite a number of pages before I fully wrapped my head around Scott Lynch’s medieval setting, but that was most probably because my imagination lacks Auto-Renaissance setting (which I am dealing with by expanding~ my book realms). By then, I felt Camorr pulsating under the fingertips; its characters, along with their hearts, bursting from the pages. So much heart do the Gentleman Bastards pack that I too formed a new Locke Lamora blackened heart beside my many other fictional blackened hearts.
Much of the strength of its novel was from its lively characters. I like my heroes impulsive, sensitive, and smartasses, but I really want them to be honest. Locke I dare say, might have been misguided, but had his heart lie where it should count. It was impossible not to to have them endeared to me or to root for them, especially when they have the charming, manipulative, smart Locke Lamora as their leader. I made several fist pumps (some, embarrassingly made in public) every time my boys bested anyone, mostly through their wits.
This, barring my questionable morals though. *scratches head* But let’s not go there.
Of course, there was tragedy. In my head, I was gripping the pages of my metaphorical copy and hurling it against the wall because it was cruel at some point, and then I would bang my metaphorical head against the wall because I recognize it as a significant plot point as it moves the story along, but my heart still hurt.
Okay, I was a little placated(!!?) by the bromance. This girl loves me some bromance, sure, especially when peppered with conning and outsmarting aristocrats, cannibal sharks and/or/sometimes with people, promises to hold until death, and half-assed declarations of love laced with life threats. Basically, I’m in this for some killer bromance, a little too true to the word.
A tiny peeve though: While Lynch’s Interludes in every chapter almost always annoyed me for interrupting the present, I recognize its narrative purpose, to the strategic cutting off of the momentum of the story, but it was a test of my EQ not to skip these pages and run off to the next chapter. I was told that Lynch maintains this writing style(?) for the rest of the series, so I shall hold to my patience dearly.
Before I get myself incriminated from some future crime, I suggest you get yourself a copy, and let us form a little group of sumthin sumthins. If you need more convincing, here is the review of The Lies of Locke Lamora by Patrick Rothfuss, author of Kingkiller Chronicles, which, I should soon get my grubby hands on.