Kings of the Wyld

What's the title? Kings of the Wyld

Who wrote it? Nicholas Eames

When was it written? 2017

What star rating would I give it? 5/5

Would I recommend it? Um, is that even a question? YES. There’s humor. There’s heart. There’s brotherhood and epic battles and baddies with bunny ears. So, yeah, I think I’d recommend this book.

What's it about? (non-spoilers) Clay Cooper is happy living his small life, working his boring job in a quiet town, coming home each night to his wife and daughter. Life wasn’t always this simple for Clay – he used to be a member of a legendary group of mercenaries called Saga, killing monsters, saving princesses, fighting hard and partying harder. But that was a long time ago, and Clay is happy to have left that life behind. Then Golden Gabe, Saga’s frontman and Clay’s best friend, shows up at Clay’s door. Gabe’s daughter is facing a threat unimaginable, and her only hope of getting her home safely lies with the men that used to be legends. It’s time to get the band back together.

What did you think? (spoilers) I was perusing the shelves at my local library, as I’m wont to do, when suddenly my breath caught. My body froze. Time slowed so I could count the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. I was Dante catching his first glimpse of Beatrice. There was before and after, and this was the demarcating moment. This was the moment I first saw the cover of Kings of the Wyld.

Am I being hyperbolic? Maybe, a little. However, it is not an exaggeration to say that I had a visceral reaction to seeing Kings of the Wyld. I’d never heard of the book, I knew nothing about it. All I could see was a spine, but somehow I knew this book was for me. I picked it up, looked at its cover. Whoever said you can’t judge a book by its cover has never looked at Richard Anderson’s art. I want this cover as a mural on my wall. Everything about this cover speaks to me.

I can’t even say what it was about the physical object of the book that made me know it was for me. Sure, I’m a fantasy fan, but the particular premise of this book doesn’t exactly scream Emiline. I delved into the Gentleman Bastards because I heard there were lots of heists and organized crime and that’s frequently my jam. Robin Hobb’s books had political intrigue and spying and such. The Checquy Files had bureaucracy and strong female protagonists. They had hooks that actually, you know, hooked me. Kings of the Wyld, however, is built on the premise that mercenaries bands were treated like rock bands. That shouldn’t work for me. If you’ll recall my Bookish Buzzwords post, rockstars are a definite turn-off for mine. But Kings didn’t turn me away. And after having read the book, I can say that I suddenly understand the allure to rockstars. Don’t get me wrong – if I see Mick Jagger walking down the street, I’m still crossing the road to avoid him. BUT, I get why others would ask him to sign their face.

It’s not just the rockstar premise that worked in Kings. The book exceeded the promise of its cover. I enjoyed every second of this book. The world is vast with distinct cultures and complex histories. I wanted to explore more of Grandual and am eagerly anticipating to see more of the kingdoms mentioned in Kings in future installments (because there will be future installments, and, oh, how my heart sang when I discovered Kings isn’t a standalone). I particularly want to see more of the Phantrans and Etna Doshi (please, powers that be, make this happen).

I loved the characters in Kings. I just want to give Clay a big hug. He’s such a good guy. The fact that his weapon is a shield speaks so loudly. (Also, I want Blackheart. I want Blackheart badly. I felt such an emotional attachment to that hunk of wood, it’s ridiculous. Sure, Vellichor is amazing, and I could write many words on my appreciation for that magical sword, but Blackheart is where it’s at. When the cannibal took it off Clay – it was one of the tensest moments in the book, and Clay’s reaction was mine.) All of the band members are distinct and play a unique role in their dynamic with each another. I could write about all of them, but it would mostly just be me gushing which I could do, but I won’t, because I have self-control.

I will say how surprised I was at how much I came to love Gabe. Gabe plays the role that I normally loathe the most in rockstar stories. And perhaps, if I’d seen him in the heyday of Saga, I’d have hated him then too. But in Kings, we meet Gabe’s rockstar, faux-deep-artist, self-absorbed, hedonistic, insufferable butthole self decades later, after he’s lost what’s important and has learned what really matters. Here stands a man that time and pain have refined, a man whose potential is finally, finally being met as he becomes the man he always could’ve been. And it works. Gabe, a man desperate to get his daughter back, may be my favorite character in the whole book. Besides Etna Doshi, that is (seriously, please have more of her in future books. Pretty pretty please).

I admired the way the female characters are handled. Clay’s relationship with his wife and daughter is touching and played as aspirational. Sure, Tally maybe a little precocious and precious, but she’s tiny. I’ll allow it. And maybe Ginny is a bit of Madonna, but that could also be because we only see her through Clay’s eyes and Clay is madly in love with her and so thinks she is perfect, and I’m okay with that because their love is adorable. The rest of the female cast in Kings are delightfully flawed and complex characters. What’s more, they aren’t punished for being complex and flawed. Over the course of the book, we meet a drug addict ex-wife, an adulterous and murderous current wife, an extortionist, a bounty hunter, and a thief. The novel shows all of these women as being worthy of empathy, if not exactly clemency. Rose, Gabe’s beleaguered daughter, is never damseled. She proves to be a competent and fearsome warrior, who just happens to be in an impossible situation and so needs help, just as any other warrior would in the same circumstances.

However, Clay’s backstory revolving his mother’s murder was not great. It’s a classic example of fridging. There were so many other ways of motivating Clay without resorting to domestic abuse. I’m not saying domestic abuse should never be present in any narrative. It’s a real issue that deserves to be handled with care. And I’m not saying Kings was irresponsible or reckless in its depiction of domestic abuse. I just don’t think it was at all necessary in the story Kings was telling, and, what’s more, it felt kind of lazy. I called what had happened to his mother (does she even have a name in the book? I can’t remember it) within the first fifty pages, and I can’t help but feel there could have been a more interesting, nuanced way of giving Clay his savior-complex than “my daddy beat my mommy to death.”

Another qualm I had with Kings was Ganelon. Ganelon is great. He’s a laconic, hyper-focused, one-man-killing-machine, and that archetype is catnip to me. I just didn’t know how I felt about it being assigned to the one person of color in the band, especially as that person of color is a black man. Also, the fact that Ganelon’s end included him (unknowingly) abandoning his child struck me as not great. Now, to be clear, I don't believe there to be any malicious intent behind Ganelon's characterization. The narrative treats him with reverence and he's clearly been lovingly crafted. His storyline about being petrified was heartbreaking and his relationship with Larkspur was so fun to read. But his character exists not just in the world of this book but also in the larger context that is our racist world, and, consequently, certain aspects of his story made me uncomfortable. That said, I love the prospect of seeing him in future books and also his kid. I so want to meet that kid because between his parents, boy howdy, he must be a handful.

My last nitpick – “But Emiline,” you say. “You’ve gone on and on about how much you love this book and now you’re spending all this time on things you didn’t like. What’s up?” Okay, Reader Interuptus, I do love this book. And I shall get back to singing its praises post haste. But just because I love something doesn’t mean I have to think it’s perfect. I am frequently a lover of the imperfect. Kings is no exception. And it’s a debut book. It’s not supposed to be perfect. Now, if you’ll kindly allow me to get back to my nitpicking. I was saying that I noticed some of the plotlines got dropped here and there. For instance, there was Matrick’s reaction to Moog having the rot. When Matrick first finds out his friend is dying his reaction is intense and heartbreaking. Great stuff. However, when Moog finds the cure for the rot, I can’t remember Matrick ever commenting on it at all. I didn’t need a whole big scene or anything, but a back-pat or a manly wiping away of a single tear, or something would’ve been nice.

Okay, now back to the singing of the praises. The humor in Kings is so great. Every member of Saga gets at least one great line. And it doesn’t feel like the characters being funny for the sake of being funny. All the humor comes out of their personalities. Ganelon’s “I’d kill you last.” Gabe’s “And you call me dramatic.” Matrick’s “He has his father’s eyes and mine aren’t blue.” Moog’s, well Moog’s everything really, but especially his cannibal line. Clay’s many, many “It’s complicated” s. Humor didn’t come from just the main characters. For crying out loud, the main antagonist is an immortal with bunny ears. So many times I found myself literally laughing out loud at the prose or the plot or the dialogue. It’s just that kind of book.

I loved all the different creatures found in Grandual and the Wyld. If Eames ever compiled a bestiary of all the monsters the readers meet in Kings, I’d buy it in a heartbeat. So often while reading he’d describe a particular monster and I thought, aw man, I want to see that. Then he’d describe the next monster and I’d think, AW MAN, I want to see THAT TOO. There was so much monstery goodness, it was hard to keep track of them all.

The action in Kings is so, so good. Eames writes in such a way that it’s clear what exactly is happening, who’s doing it and where, so that it’s easy to visualize, but it doesn’t read in a step-by-step way either. It’s just fun – and epic. So epic. I could mention so many fights that I loved, but my favorite comes at the end when Gabe does this one move that was so glorious in its video game-esque, B-movie awesomeness that I just couldn’t hardly handle it. (You guys, I really love Gabe.)

I appreciated how complex the villain and his motivations were. He’s awful and vile and so easy to hate, but he also has a strong argument for his point of view. I was happy with how his story ended – or rather didn’t, as the case may be. Muahaha.

I could honestly go on and on and about this book. I could write about Moog’s magical food hat and Kit the immortal and Larkspur and Pete the barman and Fender the kobold and Gregor and Dane and all the individual fights I loved and airships and just a lot. But this post is already too long by half. The point is Kings of the Wyld is the most fun I’ve had with a book since The Rook and everyone should read it and then we can all talk about it as we eagerly await for the next book in the trilogy. In the meantime I’m just going to keep looking at that cover because it’s just so pretty.

Images: Goodreads

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