|
 The Golden Key by Melanie Rawn, Jennifer Roberson and Kate Elliott
reviewed by Underview
Original appearance: Albedo one issue 14, Autumn 1997
Three of the most celebrated names in fantasy come together for this once-in-a-lifetime collaboration trumpets the inner flap of the dustjacket. With all due respect to Jennifer Roberson and Kate Elliott, not being a fantasy fan I've never heard of them. The third one, Melanie Rawn, I know by reputation, but I've never read any of her work. So why did I bother with The Golden Key (Macmillan, hardback, UKŁ16.99, 868pp)? In my defence I can only claim that it was a nicely presented book and the core idea sounded interesting.
In Tira Verte - a sort-of-European duchy bordered by desert/mountain barbarians, the Tza'ab Rih, whose background seems heavily influenced by the Arab world - all legal documents are effected as paintings. The position of court painter to the ruling family, Lord Limner, is one of extreme importance and great influence. Through deceit and trickery a master painter of a once famous family, the Grijalvas, for many years close to being outcasts from society because they are tainted with Tza'ab Rih blood, becomes Lord Limner and establishes his family as pre-eminent in Tira Verte, after that of the dukes he serves.
There is magic in the painting of the Lord Limner, Sario Grijalva; magic beyond its mere beauty. As there is in all Grijalva paintings. But Sario has discovered power beyond the dreams of even his own family and through this power achives his own version of eternal life, painting himself into the body of a young artist as each successive body reaches the end of its useful life. An act which he repeats over and over down the centuries. And he does it all for the misplaced love he feels for his cousin, whom he traps in a painting. But she will always love another. Even though he is centuries dead.
This is a very cleverly plotted fantasy, which explores its themes of love and jealousy and betrayal in an unusual and original way. It is intelligently written, with wonderful central characters and a supporting cast who are well-enough drawn to do service at the centre of many a lesser novel. This is truly what must be meant when people talk of adult fantasy. There is no thigh slapping, ale quaffing, sword play or wondrous quests. If the main character were to be compared to a figure in our literary past it would be Machiavelli's Prince rather than Tolkien's Bilbo Baggins. A hobbit-free zone and one which may just be tinged with qualities which will render it just as timeless as the names dropped in the previous sentence. One can only hope so.
|
