The Steel Remains by Richard K. Morgan

Now that I’ve got my breath back, I’ll begin.

I’ve read a couple of Richard Morgan’s science fiction novels, so I was looking forward to The Steel Remains, his first foray into fantasy. I expected brutal violence, fast-paced writing and lots of bad language; I wasn’t disappointed.

How can I best describe it? Well, if Irvine Welsh and Quentin Tarantino ever got together to write a fantasy novel, it would be The Steel Remains. This is fantasy for adults, and even then, it’s for those who aren’t easily offended. At first, it jarred with me; I felt the author was going too far to prove a point – one of the character’s first lines is a string of obscenities – but whether me, or the book itself, it soon settled down.

Much has been written by various sources about how The Steel Remains has shaken up the genre; it hasn’t so much given it a kick up the backside, as given it a thorough beating and taken its wallet, leaving it to recover while pondering thoughts of revenge. While the novel is profoundly shocking at times, there is a depth to this story that warms the heart. Yes, I’ve been shocked; but I’ve also laughed out loud (not many books make me do that), and a scene where one of the characters visits his father’s burial place is utterly moving.

And that’s what I’d like to talk about – the characters and the world Richard Morgan has created.

Our hero, if you can call him that, is Ringil Eskiath. Son of a noble, he turned his back on his family and fought in a war that has left him scarred physically and mentally. When the story begins, he is a wreck, a drunk telling tales to all who will listen. His famous sword, Ravensfriend, a talking point hung over the fire. Gil’s mother arrives, asking him to find a distant relative who has been taken into slavery, thus kick starting his quest, one that will take him back home, where he will meet old friends and old enemies.

So far, so clichéd, right? Yet, Morgan relishes in this, taking these clichés and turning them on their head. Yes, Gil is a warrior, has been a leader of men, but it’s through luck rather than sound judgment. He left his family in shame for being gay, rather than being a hero who balked at the wealth around him and decided to pursue a worthy cause.

That’s right; he’s gay. And, in true Morgan style, very much so. The only other overtly gay character I’ve read in fantasy was in Mark Charan Newton’s Nights In Villjamar, and that did feel like a bit of a side-product to a character who was already albino, and therefore decreed as socially unacceptable. With Gil, what you see is what you get; some of his love scenes are warm and romantic, while others are bawdy and lustful. Despite this, there’s only one that feels particularly contrived, yet it does serve to further the plot. Gil is given the usual hero’s journey we see in fantasy, but with a twist – one I can’t go into without spoiling the plot. I liked Gil; he’s flawed, for sure, but well-rounded and certainly interesting.

I groaned when I read the name Egar the Barbarian – Dragonbane, for he has slain such a beast. A steppe nomad from the barren north (aren’t they always?), Egar leads his tribe in a haphazard way, more content to rut with big-breasted women than make decisions. This proves to be his downfall when he finds himself pitted against his tribe’s shaman, and gods are drawn into this seemingly petty conflict. Add to this the third main character, Archeth. She’s a human/kiriath half-breed; the last remnant of her race left behind after a mass exodus, she has no family and struggles to understand her place in the Empire, down in the sultry south. Sounds like we’re in real danger of cliché overload now.

These two are more than sidekicks, however, each portrayed as vividly as Gil. It’s a testament to Morgan’s writing that it’s easy to push two characters to the back of our minds when reading the third; when that ends and we return to another, it’s with a fresh feeling of interest. When combined with the rich portrayal of the realms these three inhabit, as well as the people they interact with (Archeth’s emperor is particularly unsettling and unpredictable), they create a story that’s incredibly difficult to put down.

As well as the kiriath, there are other non-human races. Dragons exist (although we don’t see one), and the war Gil and his friends fought in was against a race of sentient reptiles, the Scaled Folk, who also remain unseen. There’s magic too, although this is in the hands of the gods rather than men in robes with pointed hats (this cliché is avoided, thankfully). Best of these are the dwenda, who are much more than Morgan’s version of elves. Silent, invisible, deadly, expert assassins and walkers between dimensions, the dwenda are creatures of near mythical proportions, although Gil finds rumours of one existing in his hometown.

I’ve used the word cliché a lot in this review, and the book itself is riddled with them. Add plenty of swearing and scatter in some sex scenes, and you’ve got nothing more than a trashy, lurid attempt at writing fantasy for adults in search of a cheap thrill. That was always the danger with The Steel Remains, an opinion I was happy to go along with before I read the novel. Turns out it’s a breath of fresh air, even if it does have a bitter tinge at times. One thing I haven’t mentioned much is plot; that’s because I knew nothing about it going into the book, and I’d like you to be the same should you pick it up. Suffice to say, it’s a true page-turner.

A book of extremes that you’ll either love or hate, The Steel Remains is a subverted take on the fantasy genre, proving that clichés exist for a reason and can be used to a writer’s advantage along with great characters and excellent plot to make for an exciting read. Richard Morgan hasn’t laughed at the archetypes that have served to form the genre, instead he’s accepted them, taken them under his wing and nurtured them for his own ends to create his first fantasy novel. Can’t wait for the next one!

Print Friendly