Weasel's Luck by Michael Williams

    Fittingly, as it was written by one of the great American poets of the late 20th century, this is a book about the power of words: the way they're put together; the ways in which we interpret them, whether in wishful thinking and self-aggrandizement, in circular reasonings by which we repeat the same patterns (and mistakes) of the past, or in a spirit of openness whence we penetrate the obscure with childlike simplicity and break the spell of learned letters to speak the truth heart-to-heart; and the ways in which words themselves create the past, present and future, in every poem or prayer, book or song, every lively conservation and each silent meditation.

    This is a book about youth: the thrill of adventure longed for amidst the dull routine of neglected duty and resented lessons from quaint old fools who know not the first thing about what stirs our eager hearts to leave the sheep to stray and follow caprice with the goats. About generations entangled in sordid stories of love and woe, revenge and jealousy: yes, this is a book about jealousy and above all, a book about brothers, coming of age, hurting each other, coveting each other in envy that fails to see how we all possess a unique gift, something that makes us special and, indeed, worthy of the other's admiration and envy in turn, as the grass is always greener: from which may we arise and lay the curse aside.

    This is a story of three brothers, Alfric, Brithelm, and Galen (or "The Weasel" as his name means and as he is unflatteringly called by his eldest brother, Alfric) who vaguely reflect the same division of human character as the Brothers Karamazov: Alfric represents physical strength (which he uses primarily to pound his youngest brother for real or perceived offenses) and, aspirationally at least, courage, or at least ambition, to someday become a Solamnic knight and a hero like his father, if only he can find another knight willing to take his sorry hide on as squire. Brithelm, the middle brother, reminds me of Alyosha Karamazov in his spiritual purity, although his red robes can't help but make us think of Raistlin Majere; and if you read this book you may even get to see him do a few magic tricks of his own. Of course, the Weasel is the unlikely hero of this tale, and he takes his time burrowing into our hearts, through twisting tunnels, offending decency with his cowardice, dishonesty and resentment, but at least making the reader laugh out loud as he cleverly uses his wits (and his words) to outsmart his older brothers, representing the 'mind' so to speak, as they represent the body and the spirit.

    The adventure, the plot, the drama all take their time to develop as the outset of the book establishes, not only the characters themselves (which also include a washed-up schoolmaster turned tutor to the spoiled children of the castle, as well as a knight from the Brightblade family---perhaps you've heard of them?) but also the environment, the landscape and geography (I found myself flipping back to the map at the beginning of the book more than I do with most tales of Krynn) and most of all the mood and feel. And this book feels, and it feels different.

    To readers familiar with the DragonLance novels, undead warriors whose spectral breath chills the soul, dragons spewing flame and acid that melts flesh and stone, and oaken groves capable of frightening the bravest Kender this side of the Abyss, beyond which lies a tower inhabited by oozing shapeless things of dubious life and the evil mage who is their Master, along with the dark elf that serves him, are nothing new. And yet there is something sinister and malevolent in reading this book that I have rarely come across in fantasy literature. This book is darker in a way hard to define, but the darkness is not so much there on the page as crawling between the lines.

    Michael Williams displays a broad and deep familiarity with bardic lore, with midieval history, and with trees: clearly he has done his homework and familiarized himself with the Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth set out by Robert Graves in The White Goddess. A recurring theme as the story progresses is the struggle between philosophy and morality---again we are reminded of Raistlin, and of William Blake's adage, "The weak in courage is strong in cunning." 

    DragonLance has always been about unlikely, even reluctant heroes: flawed, human, transgressing, doubting...characters straight out of the Bible, or the Welsh and Irish tales...

    The problem was that the world couldn't take a pure best.

    "Don't look at things directly, little brother, for insight dwells in the corner of the eye"

    There is a conflict between law and grace that is reflected in Sturm Brightblade's struggle between the Oath and the Measure in Dragons of Winter Night, the darkest, most sorrowful DragonLance novel I had read prior to Weasel's Luck. If you were only to read one DragonLance novel, this should be it---which is not to say that it's the best or even, by any means, my favorite: I would tell you to start with Dragons of Autumn Twilight---but how could you stop there? You would become an Aesthetic for life. But if you were to dip your feet into the waters of the Blood Sea for just one week and only visit the land of Ansalon once, never to return, and go back to Dickens and Hesse and Stendhal, they would be in good company were you to choose this Estwilder jewel of a book by Michael Williams. 

Some things are stronger than death.

    Above all, this is a book about redemption. Redemption from the past that haunts us in endless remorse and resentment. Redemption from the loneliness and isolation that harden our hearts to callousness and, in preserving us from the biting cold of a winter with no fire, prevent us from feeling the warmth of the sunrise when the chirping of birds heralds spring's return, as it must. Redemption, for this reader at least, from a rigid Seeking after the ways of the Measure and readiness to sacrifice all for the Oath, redemption in laughter that dissolves all such notions in a most unSolamnic smile, saved by the luck of the weasel or, as it were, the rat.  

May Paladine guide our actions,

Mishakal heal all wounds,

and Gilean reveal to us the meaning of life: one page at a time.

Thank you for reading my review of Weasel's Luck by Michael Williams. This has been a shortened version of the original blog, which you can read in all its fulness here. 

Better yet read my review of Dragons of Deceit by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, the originators of the DragonLance novels.