Reviewer’s Disclosure: I am an employee of White Wolf Game Studios, predominantly for the Dark Ages line, and I hereby state that I will not review my own work, works to which the other two members of my writer’s circle have contributed, or any work of which I had advance knowledge of any type. That being said, on with the review.
Shadows is the second book in the Lasombra Clan Trilogy, the thus-far impressive effort by Bruce Baugh to reconstruct the Lasombra signature character, Lucita, into something other, better, more compelling, than her previous depictions in White Wolf fiction. This is, to put it mildly, a monumental task.
From here there may very well be spoilers.
Structure:
Like its predecessor (“Shards”), Shadows is broken into a Prologue and three Parts. The Prologue follows the mental processes and actions of the eldest surviving childe of Lasombra – Montano – as the events in “Shards” stir the Abyss hard enough that he feels the echoes even in Australia. Needless to say, he’s decidedly unamused by the initial results of his inquiries, and decides to investigate further, much more closely.
Part One: “Looking Down Into Darkness” opens a short time after the end of “Shards,” on a small island in the Aegean Sea, with a conversation between Lucita and Conrad, the sire of Bishop Andrew Emory. It skips rapidly through viewpoints from there, showing a number of “reaction shots” to the events at the end of “Shards” from a variety of different individuals: the Sicilian Abyss mystics whose activities interrupted Lucita’s trial; Cardinal Timofiev, one of the ranking Sabbat elders who sat on the Court of Blood; Bishop Emory and his hunting pack; and, of course, Lucita herself. Total inner serenity when it comes to the weird turn events have taken is not present anywhere. Eventually, heads are temporarily straightened out, plans are made, and investigative actions pursued, in an effort to learn more about the mysterious agenda of the Abyss mystics and what, precisely, they’re attempting to summon.
The Abyss mystics do not precisely take this lying down.
And the Abyss begins to respond to violently to the forces being stirred up within it that playing with shadows becomes even more dangerous than it was before...
Part Two: “Looking Inward Into Darkness” opens with an unctuous little weasel (also known as the great rebel, Gratiano de Veronese) feeling very pleased with himself, indeed. His good mood is somewhat ruined before all is said and done, by the arrival of Lucita, Conrad, and the rest of the Sabbat investigators, who want to question him rather closely about the events surrounding the destruction of the Lasombra Antediluvian. What they learn doesn’t do their nerves any good at all. In between, philosophy and Cainite history are discussed, pack dynamics shake themselves out, and Lucita has her first taste of the Vaulderie.
And the circle of Abyss mystics gains its newest member.
Part Three, “Looking Out Into Darkness” opens with senior levels of the Lasombra leadership within the Sabbat taking a fairly nasty shock its self-confidence, and things go directly downhill from there. The investigative team attempts to independently corroborate Gratiano’s story about the night of the Lasombra Antediluvian’s destruction, and what they learn confirms their worst fears: that the mystics are attempting to summon the soul of the Lasombra founder himself from the darkest heart of the Abyss.
My Not So Humble Opinions:
The Good:
In several ways, “Shadows” is actually somewhat better than its predecessor, “Shards.” While the cats-and-mouse nature of that book’s plot was engaging and interesting, and the writing in it quite smoothly polished, but the characterization of all the protagonists, including Lucita, seemed a bit on the perfunctory side. Only towards the end, during the confrontation/conversation between Lucita and Fatima, did the full emotional impact of the characters’ vastly differing methods of dealing with the world really blossom into a scene of tremendous power.
No so, here. “Shadows” has characterization hooks popping out of its metaphorical wazoo – ninety percent of the appeal of this book derives entirely from the character interactions, their philosophical and personal differences, their quirks, psychoses, and interpersonal dynamics. Lucita does, in fact, have a personality – layered and complicated and deeply unhappy, internally conflicted, and confused. Her vulnerability as well as her hard-mindedness shine through, as does a sense of humor I personally hadn’t suspected her of having. Each of the other major and minor protagonists is similarly treated; there’s something about each and every one of them that gives them a deeper dimension, no matter how quickly or briefly that characterization is sketched.
I continue to like Willa and Angelica.
There is a moment of immensely well-done fear in this book – fear coming from a number of powerful vampires, which makes the impact of actually seeing them afraid that much stronger.
And Montano is just damned effective (and cool) in a totally-alien-to-human-thought-processes methuselah way.
And Lucita does, in fact, threaten to rip Bishop Emory’s head off. My cup runneth over!
The Bad:
As other reviewers have noted, this book does, in fact, suffer from the inevitable case of middle-book-in-a-trilogy syndrome, i.e., a lot of stuff happens but nothing really gets resolved. It is, however, a lot of plot advancement.
Mr. Baugh’s style remains a little dry in places, but not unreadably so. As I’ve noted elsewhere, almost all of the characterization and internal narrative issues of the previous volume have been more or less smoothed away.
The Ugly:
The mental image of Gratiano in a short-short doublet and codpiece. I never needed that mental image. Ever. Thanks, Bruce.
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