Archive for the ‘Mark Lawrence’ Category


As a fan of the Broken Empire series I started Prince of Fools with some mild apprehension. I love the way Mark Lawrence writes, but other people, who already read the book, often used the word ‘different’ to describe it and I didn’t like different. I wanted the same, whatever this particular blend was I previously liked so much.

I opened the book and got different. It was a great story, that I started to enjoy from the first moment and with a definite ‘Mark Lawrence-ness’ quietly rumbling deep down at its core, but it left me wondering if the magic will somehow once again reach out of the pages and stun me into falling head over crazy, as before.

And soon enough the book twisted and turned, it changed, considered, conspired until it accomplished its aim and I was utterly captured, the prose overwriting my concepts on beautiful, heart stolen away giggle by giggle, line by line, opened with a secret key, cradling me until the dark caressed my daylights into nights.

At the same time Prince Jalan Kendeth, third son of the Red Queen‘s third son, became just as trapped in the legendary Snorri ver Snagason‘s eloquent tales, only to find them turning into cold reality around him that would melt him, freeze him, hammer him into a destiny written by a blood-soaked game played behind hidden veils, drawing their lives toward a single point and time upon which a dream may wake from blood and sacrifice.

PofI found this book a lot more colourful than the first three, every location of the journey painted with attentive, precise strokes of a thousand shades, characters, interactions, even movements felt more vivid, described in a way that leaks the words into pictures, fiction swallowing your reality, opening a door you willingly enter, forgetting your body far behind.

Closing it left me with one of those peculiar moods that you might experience after listening to a captivating melody or watching a sunset. Not something you want to discuss straight away, but preferring to stay quiet, smiling, enjoying and preserving the feelings it created inside.

And now, that I‘m ready to speak, my only fear is that I might not find the right words to tell just how much I loved it.


Art by Kim Kincaid

Art by Kim Kincaid

In the end it came to one last game of life and death. Colours of sixty-four squares alternated between light and dark, but every move was painted sharper, every piece was coated brighter, than ever before.
Gentle harmonies lulled me into an uneasy dream, softening my heart with beauty and laughter, closing my eyes to the sense of dread creeping up on me. And so I became an easy prey in a trap, as the terror moved in, making me grip the book tight enough for my nails to leave a script of their own, drawing a calligraphy of pain and fear on the pages, dotting around repeated hard lessons.
Intricately woven timelines span me around toward an unpredictable future twisted by prophecies. Sentences punctuated with stunned silences and accords of a thousand vibrant colours in their wake resonated deep within my soul, stirring up dark shadows from my past, handing them blurred memories to sharpen.
In the end Emperor of Thorns took no prisoners. Jorg Ancrath lured me into dreams where angels feared to tread and I followed him lovingly through a Broken Empire and beyond.
And in the end, my broken heart seemed a small price to pay to heal a shattered world. For as it turned out, he in fact mended one for us both.




59035_336492183160391_849815797_nOnce upon a time there was a Prince of a Thousand Promises. He was told to be brave, he was told to be ruthless, he was told to be immoral, he was told to be the greatest. Truly he did not look like much to me the first time, so I walked past him and left him after the first chapter or so. Or at least I tried. I failed to see that I already had little, invisible hooks in me, reeling me in back on board, binding me to his story stronger than I could ever imagine.
 Prince of Thorns by Mark Lawrence is not for the faint-hearted. Its darkness wraps you in like a moonless night, its grim world chills your heart and sneaks out your darkest memories you hoped you had buried deep enough a long time ago, sets them free and makes you face them once again. 
But it also shows you that you may find the lightning beautiful if you dare to look in the storm and you may just hear your heart singing if you care to listen in the silent darkness. It reminds you that the strongest heroes never grow in peaceful flowerbeds of sunlit meadows, but in soils of merciless trials, constant battles and grave sufferings. As do we all. And maybe this is why we brave a grim tale and are more the grateful when we do find beauty in dire places, solutions for hopeless situations, and love in heartless characters.  But whatever this mesmerising and dangerous spell is, Mr Lawrence seems to be casting on us with disturbingly little effort, he does it mind-blowingly and with his first book series, as I see it, he has just revealed himself as the new Prince of Grimdark.