After a couple of decades of – considerably qualified – Harry Turtledove fandom on my part: the past couple of days’ doings have given me cause to wonder whether this will continue.
Result of my long having been vaguely aware of a work of this author’s, called Every Inch A King, first published some fifteen years ago. I knew that it was a stand-alone novel (which often, with Harry, tends for me to be good news); about a likeable and resourceful rogue who seeks to run a scam by which he will accede, at least for a time, to the kingship of Albania which is just then “going begging”. It has proved not totally easy to come by, at any rate where I am; at last I managed to get a copy – not cheap, but not at an “arm-and-a-leg” price – via Amazon.
Having acquired the book, I discovered that it is among that sector of Turtledove’s fiction which is set (the “universes” and their characteristics differ from each other as regards details) in alternative Earths or strongly Earth-like planets, where modern technology of all and any kinds, does not exist – being replaced by magic, and by the use in various capacities of trained giant, and essentially mythical, beasts. Societies are overall archaic-ish – kings and barons, etc., rather than republics and plebeian “strong-man” rulers. Where there is formal religion: the religions are supposedly fictional, but correspond closely enough for there to be no mistake, with the appropriate ones from “our world”. There are those who enjoy Turtledove’s writings where “Earth is Earth as we know it”, but can’t stand his “sorcerous” stuff at any price. This is not necessarily the way with me: his magic-and-sorcery material I seem – not always for the same reasons – to like (Videssos, the “Darkness” series) or loathe (The Case Of The Toxic Spell Dump, the “sorcerous American Civil War” books).
Hadn’t been expecting “sorcerous Harry”; but obviously it was appropriate to give this one a go, and judge it on its merits. As things unfold, it becomes clear that this tale is tied to a very specific “our real world” time and place: the action beginning in northern Greece, in the latter stages in early-ish 1913, of the First Balkan War. The various nations of Europe at that time, show up in the text – re-named by the author, but via pretty transparent allusions which make identification easy: the ultimate being Albania, which is called Shqiperi. Also, the author is at pains to mention stock “trade-mark” characteristics of each nation and its people. The first-person-narrator hero and would-be king of Shqiperi / Albania, comes originally from this scene’s Germany-equivalent; though he is too laid-back, rascally, and non-law-abiding, to be a cliche German.
For me, any initial pleasure taken in matching up of names and hackneyed traits, to countries; was quite quickly overtaken by coming to find virtually the whole thing and everything about it, wearisome. Turtledove’s writing is often felt to be excruciatingly heavy-handed; not least, by me – “on a good day” for him, I can enjoy him – on a not-so-good day, things can be painful. Here, I found the highly-exact corresponding with everything about “our real world” at a particular moment in history, the reverse of enjoyable. Strong feelings prompted, re Turtledove – as often in his enormous output – shamelessly “doing the business by numbers / phoning it in”. The sheer mechanistic character of the thing, and the countless cutesy “likenesses and devices”, became embarrassing to me. If this same tale had been set straightforwardly in “our real world” in 1913 – no sorcerous stuff – I feel it likely that I’d have quite enjoyed it, and read it to the end; while not thinking it among the author’s very best. As things were, I gave up on it about a third of the way through, when our hero had just arrived in Shqiperi / Albania. I felt that this just wasn’t fun; and was unable to care less, what was going to happen to the guy – even should it be a horrible death upon discovery of his imposture. (He’s telling the tale himself; and makes reference to the terrible and long-lasting “War of the Kingdoms” which breaks out the following year – so I suppose he survives the “Shqiperi” thing.)
This disappointment, re something which had long piqued my curiosity and interest; has me reckoning to be probably, to a large extent at the end of my road with Turtledove. I might in the future, re-read material by him which I have already read and liked – but am coming to feel more strongly than before, concerning this author’s output, that – thinking Sturgeon – “a large percentage of it (and likely, anything by him which I might encounter, hitherto unknown”) is crap".