They are priests to the “nameless thirteenth” god: The Crooked Warden, Thiefwatcher and Father of Necessary Pretexts. Father Chains is not the pious servant to the god Perelandro that he pretends to be for the benefit of generous passers-by, though. His ambitious nature gets the better of him a few too many times, though, and the Thiefmaker sells the boy to Father Chains – the “eyeless priest”, begging at his temple door – to get rid of this living liability. Locke Lamora grew up on the streets of Camorr : an orphan with more guts than glory, trained up by the Thiefmaker from a very young age to cut purses and trick the gullible. Somewhere in between the grime and the glitz, the “Gentleman Bastards” steal from the rich and give to themselves, following the unscrupulous principles and meticulous training they received as wayward children. The slums are horrifying and the upper crust festers just below their shining surfaces. It’s not necessarily a pleasant city, though the rooftops owned by Camorr’s wealthiest citizens boast enchanted alchemical gardens, and the glass structures left over from before this era of men make for some impressive surroundings.
But it builds on a foundation of unknown, and possibly alien, origins that I’m anxious to learn more about as I continue reading the series. The setting is reminiscent of Renaissance Italy – complete with extravagant mob bosses and descriptions of mouthwatering Mediterranean-style feasts. In Scott Lynch’s rollicking and elaborate first installment of the Gentleman Bastard series, traditional fantasy meets the film “Casanova” meets The Count of Monte Cristo and even “The Sting.” Layer upon layer of cons and deceptions raise ever higher stakes in the expertly crafted plot, featuring a team of anti-heros who will steal your heart as they make off with all the money they can get their hands on. Once I realized – about fifty pages in – that the twists and turns would be nagging at my mind for hours after each lunch break, it was too late to turn back. (Max Gladstone suggested as much in his nice article for The Book Smugglers here, so we know it’s true.) Perhaps the week before Christmas is not the best time to get embroiled in a 700-ish page chronicle of crime and religion and disguises and betrayal. Winter is the time for the Big Fantasy Novels waiting on your shelf. The Lies of Locke Lamora is Scott Lynch’s fun and smart addition to the world of big-ass fantasy books. This will be a woefully shallow review, then, of a complex fantasy novel that I heartily enjoyed. I’m still recovering from the madness of the holidays selling books at Christmastime doesn’t leave much brain- or will-power left at the end of the day for actually reading them. Age range recommendation: 15 and up (contains torture and language)
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