Broken Honour

Broken Honour by Robert Earl. A Warhammer Fantasy book, originally published by The Black Library, February 2011. Approx. 416 pages.

Robert Earl's Broken Honour is another one of those books that has been winking at me from the "To Read" pile (now an estimated half-mile high) for close to three years. It is the type of fantasy work that usually appeals the most to me; a tale of rank and file infantry versus seemingly insurmountable odds. Now, I had never read any of Earl's work before (I actually had not heard of him until the Florin & Lorenzo omnibus was released), but Honour garnered mostly positive reviews, including a glowing one from none other than Graeme Flory.

So, taking this into consideration, and adding a badass cover, and neat a premise (a company comprised of former prisoners vs. a horde of beastmen) into the mix, we have the makings of a great read. Does Earl deliver? The answer is a near-emphatic yes.

Trouble is quickly closing in on the city of Hergig. Vast numbers of beastmen, in all shapes and forms, have eluded the efforts of Hochland's annual cull by employing such foreign behavior as strategy and tactics. Every able-bodied man is already wielding a weapon under the baron's banner, and still, the outlook is grave. Enter Free Captain Erikson, late of Praag, late of Reikland. Knowing the need for troops, and the profit to be had in the business that is war, he sets off for Hergig with a pouch full of gold to raise a regiment and secure a commission.

But as already mentioned, anyone that can stand upright and wield a weapon at the same time is already doing so; therefore, Erikson's only choice is to fill his ranks with the city's leftovers: the 'guests' of the Hergig gaol. So, rounding up roughly 160 "soldiers" from this pool, Erikson forms the "Gentleman's Free Company of Hergig", and the festivities commence.

The narrative of Broken Honour focuses mainly on the Free Company (naturally), with some time devoted to the supporting cast. To its credit, there are also portions focusing on the beastmen, and their leader, Gulkroth. Gulkroth is a particularly nasty specimen (and considering these are beastmen, that is pretty bad), a formerly shifty and sneaky character who is "touched" by a local herdstone and achieves a godly level. It is he, in this enlightened and enhanced form, that consolidates the various herds and integrates the techniques that they bring to bear.

Earl's writing style, I can only imagine, may not be for everyone. When he writes for the human characters, he injects a lot of humor into his prose. Playful jibes, sarcasm, these are the norm. There is little to no character development to be had here. These characters are absolute stock characters; and would be immediately recognizable onscreen. Don't get me wrong, he used stock character tropes, but made them engaging and likable. My point is, if you are looking for poignant character studies, look elsewhere. Case in point, there is precious little insight offered as to what motivated Erikson to form his army. It's just put forward that he has been a lifelong soldier and mercenary and now he has decided to be a troop commander.

Earl's writing for the beastmen is quite superb; he has immersed himself into what the psychology of these bovine bastards of Chaos might be.

One field in which Earl more than excels is in writing battle scenes. The actions committed to paper are neither extravagant nor sparse. He understands the anatomy of the monsters he is writing about, understands which movements are fluid, and which are ungainly. He utilizes a rich vocabulary to flesh them out (I have never seen another author write about beastmen and use the word "dewlaps". Kudos, Robert). Empire soldiers fight with precision, the freed prisoners fight with the desperation of street-fighters.

Other than that, there are few surprises to be had here. Very few of the Free Company are even given names (less than 10), the rest are pared down via redshirting. The Company is sent on various "certain death" missions, which you know that through grit and guile they will make it through, because, well, there attendance in the final brouhaha is obligatory.

This is all fine though, since, as already mentioned, there is a fine cast keeping things lively. Erikson and the few Company members that get fleshed out are good protagonists, and you enjoy rooting for them. There is the "cool aloof character" in Freimann, the morally-ambiguous leader of the guerrilla longrifle troop. Throughout the book there is a subplot featuring a cowardly officer in the baron's employ whose relationship to a company member causes the suicide missions they find themselves deployed on.

There are only two more minor quibbles to be had here, and one is a tad spoiler-y, so read on at your own risk. The first problem is that one character arc goes largely unresolved. Understandably, this may be because the book leaves itself open for a sequel, even though it ends well as a standalone (very craftily done, in a way that shows that events are ultimately cyclical). The other problem, and is just in one scene, is that...

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SPOILER: In the final battle, when the baron is fighting Gulkroth, the Free Company members get a free swipe when his back is turned. In that moment they inflict "half a dozen" wounds on him. Then, the baron gets a swing with his runefang sword, which, Earl writes, is the only type of weapon that can do any real damage to him, adding that normal swords or spears would just break against his hide. But, on the same page, the Company just did damage against him with ordinary weapons. Not to be petty, but that is quite the contradictory WTF moment to transpire over the course of a page.
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Back to our regularly scheduled review.

I know it seems that a lot of nit-picking is going on here, but that is not the case. I am only listing a handful of objections. The rest of the book is 400 pages of well-paced, action-packed, cleverly written fun. It would be great if a sequel novel would present itself. Maybe Honour was intended to be a series, hence its release as a standalone and not as an entry in the "Empire Armies" series. Either way, grab a copy if you can. It is one of the few Black Library out of print titles that doesn't cost a small fortune in the secondary market, or you can opt for the ebook version, available directly at the Black Library website. Highly recommended.

Here's what it is:
An excellent Warhammer Fantasy standalone title that focuses on the lowly infantryman. The first book I have read that features Chaos Beastmen as the main antagonists. A fast-paced read with well-rendered battle scenes, and clever dialogue.


Final Score:

81/100


Cover Score:

Pretty nice cover indeed. I am not too crazy about the title font, but the gold background color scheme works well, especially when paired with the red of the pistolier's garb. This soldier serves as a fine avatar for the grimdark mood of Warhammer Fantasy, square-jawed, rough around the edges, and death dealing pistol firmly in hand.

Cover Final Score:

82/100

The Mouse And His Child

The Mouse and his Child by Russell Hoban. With illustrations by Lillian Hoban. Originally published in 1967 (this edition by Harper & Row). 182 pages.

Sometimes it helps to take a step back from the usual genres being reviewed and remember that there are so many children's literary works worthy of real consideration. I've always had a fascination with Russell Hoban's The Mouse and his Child, although this was mostly in regards to the 1977 animated version. I used to catch it on frequent HBO showings, and to be honest, I don't remember much of the movie itself. I do remember that (to my younger self), it did succinctly convey those notions of fear, wonder, and love that are the integrals pillars of the work. Luckily, since I am long overdue for a re-visit of the film, it is available to view in its entirety on Youtube:

A few years ago, memories of watching the film popped into my head one day, and I reserved the book through a local library. I read a few pages in, enjoyed it immensely, and then decided to wait until my children were a little bit older, so that I could read it with them, and then we could all enjoy the book together for the first time. So, a few months ago, I grabbed a copy, and began reading two or three pages a night to my older daughter. All I can say is that this is a beautiful piece of writing that so deserves to be read by young and old (preferably together). But enough about my personal investment in the story; on to the book itself.

The Mouse and his Child tells the tale of the two titular wind-up toys. In the world of the narrative, the toys "come to life" at the stroke of midnight; although this animation is limited, since they become able to think, and talk, but still rely on manual winding for movement. The mouse and child, while technically one toy (they are joined at the hands and share a winding key), have separate personalities. The tale opens with their first awakening in a toy shop, and with coming to grips with what they are in fact, are. Being Christmastime, they are soon bought, played with for a while, and then discarded. Finding themselves alone and abandoned in a dump, this is where there journey truly begins.

One of the greater themes of TMahC (and there are quite a few themes within) is societal structure and finding ones place within. At the onset, the pair learned of the establishment that was the toy store, with its great dollhouse and monarch wind-up pink elephant. In the dump, however, it is a different story. The animals reign in the denizens of the dump. Striding atop the hierarchies of the dump are the rats, led by the odious Manny Rat. Manny is a particularly nasty customer; conniving, shrewd, sharp at business and handy with mechanical parts. He also runs a 'forage squad' of tossed wind-up toys that he uses to gather junk, by both honest and dishonest means. The hapless mouse and child, incapable of self-winding, are shanghaied by Manny. After a botched robbery attempt in which they were forced to participate, the wind-ups find themselves fleeing the dump and certain death from the pursuing Manny. They are aided in their urgent egress by the prophetic Frog, a kindly fortune-teller/surveyor who finds his fate intertwined with theirs.

Along their journey, the mouse and child run into colorful characters, and latch onto new concepts. From observing a turf war between two groups of warring shrews, they learn the idea of territory, and why it is so important (and they decide they want their own). From an eccentric avian theater troupe, they learn companionship, and glean hope as to the fate of a fellow former toy store wind-up. And. at the end of their trek, they hope to meet up with Muskrat, a genius mathematician who may hold the secret to self-winding.

To divulge any more would compromise too many story points, but suffice to say, as in life, there are many ups and downs, and the downs seem to outnumber the ups.

Hoban is an author who obviously does not feel the need to pander to a young audience. Rather, he embraces and celebrates their resilient optimism, and simple common-sense. There are some mature elements in the book; extended periods where things just do not go well for the protagonists, and there is a good deal of violence, blood, and death. Again though, kids know what these things are, and Hoban knows that they know. The focus here is on this father and son pair, lost in this new, dark, bleak world, facing danger at every turn. The son strengthening and developing into a spiritual and moral compass, as the father focuses on their day to day safety and survival. The trying voyage that cements their bond as each other's whole world. Wait a minute, I think that I've read a story like this recently.....

I can't decide which one had more heartbreaking moments to be honest.

The prose is charming throughout. As mentioned before, there are some big words which will need explaining for kids (especially those in the 7-11 range, which I think is a good target audience). There are many strong instances of imagery throughout; central of which is the fact that father and son are joined at the hands for the book. A small drum, salvaged from a shrew drummer boy, beats time near the child's chest, simulating a heartbeat.

Hoban also incorporates many different philosophies into TMahC, without giving any a preference as the superior. There are Frog's oracular prophecies, Muskrat's mathematical tangents, the deep, philosophical ramblings of C.Serpentina, and the mechanical "know-how" of Manny Rat. Each mindset has its own chance to shine, to show its strength and validity.

Now, for all the accolades, this is not a flawless book, either. There are scenes that meander, and dialogue that drags on. The ending is wrapped up just a little too tidily for my taste, as if a box bounced in the back of a parcel truck on a cross-country jaunt just to get decked out in a shiny red ribbon. But these are minor quibbles that barely mar a great piece.

Very highly recommended.

Here's what it is:
A great bedtime story tome that truly stresses the wonders and values of friends, family, home, and belonging, while also incorporating high stakes, danger, and sadness. Get it, read it, love it.


Final Score:

91/100

Cover Score:

As with most older titles, there are various covers for The Mouse and his Child. The one read, the Harper & Row edition, has the same picture as in the picture at the top, although with a bluer background palette and a different dollhouse design. I like the covers that utilize the artwork of Lillian Hoban, who also provided the inside illustrations. They are simple, and sketchy, but sufficiently emotional.

Cover Final Score:

80/100