Review

Assassin's Apprentice – Robin Hobb

The cover of my edition of 'Assassin's Apprentice' has a quote from The Guardian stating “Hobbs is a remarkable storyteller”, and I wholeheartedly concur. She is unquestionably talented and manages to infuse this book with a modicum of originality, which is something virtually unheard of in the fantasy genre these days. In question then, is not the author's storytelling abilities, but the quality of the story itself.

Fitz is many things: our protagonist, our narrator, the bastard son of the King-in-Waiting of the Six Duchies (Prince Chivalry) and an assassin. When his father learns of his existence, he nobly (or should that be chivalrously?) abdicates his right to the throne, leaving little six-year old Fitz to be raised by Chivalry's former retainer, the stoic Burrich. His childhood is spent around the stables of Buckkeep under Burrich's guardianship, with precious little companionship beyond the animals under his care, some of whom he has a special affinity for by way of the Wit, an ancient beastial magic, now forbidden.

As he matures, Fitz comes to the attention of King Shrewd (his grandfather) who recognises the presence of the Skill in Fitz's blood– a mind-controlling magic peculiar to the Farseer (royal) line. Perhaps more importantly, Shrewd also recognises the potential threat the boy's existence poses. He has become 'Fitz' to few, 'boy' to many, but 'bastard' to all; and it is his position as a royal bastard which endangers the cohesion of the Six Duchies. King Shrewd, true to his name, recognises that in time Fitz could be manipulated and used by Shrewd's enemies to inflame a civil war centring on Chivalry's abdication, thus weakening and even dividing the Six Duchies. To prevent said catastrophe, the King requests and is given Fitz's oath of fealty, and sets him to training secretly as a royal assassin. It is as Fitz learns the diplomacy of the knife with the mysterious Chade (the present Royal Assassin) that the coasts of the Six Duchies are plagued by Red Ship Raiders who destroy without scruple and return their hostages 'forged': soulless, less than an animal, capable only of the most primeval instincts. These forged people become an anathema to their own families and ravage the kingdom from within. In the face of these threats, Fitz becomes a pawn in the games of power – willing or no – and finds that irrespective of usefulness, pawns are always expendable.

Despite a conventional fantasy concept, 'Assassin's Apprentice' has enough original elements to make it work. It is darker than the traditional fantasy classics like 'The Lord of the Rings', or 'Magician', but does not have the distasteful grit of Brent Week's 'Night Angel' trilogy. We have a hero who has more failures than successes, more weaknesses than strengths, but perhaps this is what makes him unique in the fantasy realm. There are no elves, dwarves, magicians or dragons, nor is there the expected leap from obscurity into prominence for our protagonist. There is however, plenty of pathos, uncertainty and setbacks, and I think that Fitz's victories are all more keenly felt because they are hard come by.

Hobb's characters fluctuate between being so lifelike they practically need a birth certificate, to being flat and unrelatable. Happily, however, the latter is the exception. Fitz's life (circumstantially) is shaped not by his choices, but by his innate abilities and the circumstances of his birth. Murderer he may be, yet we see him as the victim of the story, unable to choose a path for his own life and forced to follow one drawn for him by those who would use him as a tool, or perhaps a weapon. He experiences the typical teen angst, he feels euphoria and depression, he is drunk at times, he has a crush on a girl, and he has self-esteem issues...he is a believeable teenage boy. Other characters, Burrich and Verity primarily, are well drawn and plausibly written. Precious few (Galen, for example) are flat and predictable, but even these are redeemed by the strength of the central story. Being mindful that this is but the first novel in a trilogy, I am hopeful that the 'flat' characters (Fitz's friend Molly springs to mind) will fill out in coming books, and am willing to pursue the story into the second and third volumes to find out. Inevitably, there are loose ends at the close of this volume, but again, I am hopeful that each thread will have a satisfying conclusion by the end of 'Assassin's Quest (Book Three)'.

It seems to me that Hobb's work is all about choices; those we have and those we do not. Fitz has very little choice in the circumstances he is placed in, but he still chooses who he will become (in terms of his character). This also plays out in the duality present throughout the book, a device which highlights the effect of choices made. In simple terms we have the 'good' prince Verity and the 'bad' prince Regal; the acceptable magic (the Skill) and the forbidden magic (the Wit); the 'good' teacher Chade, and the 'bad' teacher Galen, and so on. More intriguing though is the way Hobb's writing speaks of presence and absence, through Verity who is a solid figure in Fitz's life, and Chivalry, the father he has never known; and of acceptance and ostracism, most poignantly highlighted in Fitz's acceptance amongst animals and lack thereof among humans. This duality is adroitly crafted in Robin Hobb's capable hands; she is the Master artist tinting her fantasy world with shades of light and dark. The duality is more complex than I have described it above, and when reading this novel we find greys where there would normally be black and white. The good guys have a taint of darkness, and the baddies have a spark of light; set these things against a conventional fantasy background, and what do we have? With Robin Hobb's gifted touch, we have a masterpiece.

Rating: **** (4 out of 5 stars)