Literary rating: ★★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆☆½
Independent Goodreads author (and one of my Goodreads friends) P. Pherson Green has been writing since the late 90s, and has previously had short stories published in various venues. However, this novel, the opener for his projected White Sword Saga series, is his long-fiction debut. He graciously gifted me with a hardcover review copy; no guarantee of a favorable review was requested, or given. My wife and I read the book together, during the intermittent and usually short times we were both traveling together in the car; so the nearly two months it took to read is misleading. It would have been a much quicker read if I’d read it by myself, devoting all of my individual reading time to it.
This is a work of traditional epic fantasy, set (as most tales in this genre are) in a medieval-like setting resembling the Europe of that day, except in an invented fantasy world. (A helpful map is provided, though it doesn’t show every single locality a reader might like to locate.) It would be fair to say that most if not all English-language epic fantasy written from the last half of the 20th century on owes something to the inescapable influence of Tolkien’s monumental LOTR saga, and this novel is no exception. We have here, ultimately, a quest narrative involving an artifact of great significance (and great seductive power, of an unwholesome sort). The characters’ world is one with a very long history, involving elder races and cataclysmic wars which have consequences for the present. Two non-human races, the Allarie and the Groll, are respectively much like Tolkien’s elves and orcs.
More importantly, we’re very definitely dealing here with a conflict between good and evil, with domination of a world at stake; and the conflict is not simply one of “Us” (the “good” characters) vs. “Them” (the “bad” characters), but rather within “Us” as well, since all humans can be tempted by evil. And like Tolkien (who once famously characterized the LOTR corpus as a “Catholic work”) Green is a Christian author, who writes from a Christian conception of the universe. Neither writer makes any explicit reference to Christianity, and indeed both are dealing with a world in which Christ has not been born; Middle Earth is supposedly our world long before Christianity existed, and Green’s Silver World (he introduces that name only in a short note after the novel proper) is an entirely different world with a different salvation history. But like Tolkien’s Morgoth (“the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant”) the entity variously known here as the Shadow, the Wyrm, the Foul Pretender or the Dark Beguiler is recognizable as Satan; and the apparently pagan polytheism of the Silver World isn’t quite as polytheistic as it initially seems.
For all that, Green is his own person with his own literary vision and style; The Eye of Ebon is not a direct LOTR knock-off, in the way that Terry Brooks’ The Sword of Shanarra is. A major difference, of course, is the distaff perspective. While Tolkien’s Eowyn is an action-capable female, she’s not the heroine of the saga; his major characters, and most of the characters who display any real agency, or play a direct role in defeating evil, are male. Here, the two viewpoint characters, protagonist Samiare (whom you see depicted on the book’s cover) and essentially co-protagonist Rugette are both female, and formidable fighting females who carry the brunt of the book’s down-and-dirty struggle against evil, and who make the key, crucial gut wrenching and difficult moral decisions at the climactic points. (I was already inclined to rate the book at five stars, but those were the moments that clinched it, and for me moved this tale into the ranks of great, rather than merely good, literature!)
To be sure, unlike Rugette, whose combat skills, especially archery, result from rigorous training since she was in her early teens (I’d guess her to be about 30 here) and have been honed in years spent as a high-ranking warrior and scout fighting the Groll, Samiare, an untrained girl of 15, owes her prowess to a mysterious sword. At the very beginning of the main narrative, she lies dying in the snows of her homeland from cold and blood loss after being gang-raped by a band of Groll and renegade humans, who carved an obscenity on her belly, beat her and tortured her with branding irons, after killing her father and making off with her sister. When she cried out for deliverance “to the one god she knew –the one who watched over,” that sword was gifted to her by a glowing man-like being; and it proves to be no ordinary sword. But she still has to hold it and wield it –and make decisions about how she uses it.
The above paragraph suggests another difference from the Tolkien corpus; this narrative is much grittier, and gorier. While the gang-rape itself isn’t really directly described, we can tell it occurred; and while Green doesn’t make the brutalizing and torture here any more drawn-out than it has to be to make us feel it, he does make us do that. This sets a tone for a very violent book; there’s a lot of mortal combat action with edged weapons, and the Groll are an extremely sadistic and treacherous bunch, even to each other. (Tolkien, in a letter, once characterized the orcs as “almost irremediable,” but allowed that no being created by God is wholly irremediable. We get the impression here that the Groll may be; but even here, Green depicts them as having a claim to merciful treatment when they’re disabled in combat, which I regard as a plus.) So there’s a high body count, with quite a lot of humans and humanoids dying, often in nastily unpleasant ways. There’s no “pornography of violence,” but we do see the spilled entrails, severed limbs, split skulls, etc. However, there’s no quoted bad language, and no explicit sexual content. (In fact, the only reference to sex at all, besides the implied rape above, occupies a tastefully phrased single part of one sentence, in 230 pages of text proper. This would definitely not be characterized as a “romantasy.”)
Green has a serviceable, dignified and assured, naturally flowing prose style that holds interest well. Settings, scenes and people are described vividly enough to be pictured in the reader’s mind (and some of the scenes conjured rival those depicted by Robert E. Howard or A. Merritt for atmosphere and spectacle!), but not over-described. World-building is delivered along the way of the storyline, without info-dumps (there are a couple of roughly page-long appendices, “About the Silver World” and “The Four Lands,” which should be read). There aren’t many serious typos, the worst one being that “reigns” tends to be substituted when “reins” is meant (but that’s a quibble). We come to realize before long that the Prologue describes events taking place millennia before the main story, and occasional interspersed flashbacks set in the same time-frame aren’t distinguished by typeface or a heading; but the reader quickly comes to identify and understand these, and they do convey important information.
There’s no cliff-hanger here; the challenge of the main plot is brought to its conclusion. But it’s clear that the overall epochal struggle of the Four Lands is only beginning, and I’m invested in continuing the series!
Author: P. Pherson Green.
Publisher: Gold Dragon Publishing, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.


We all know professional wrestling is staged, with the outcomes predetermined, right? [Do not used the word “fake”: I will cut you!] Here, things are… murkier. This treads a delicate line between that and kayfabe, the wrestling term for promoting it as reality, and genuine competition. The stance here is interesting, suggesting that while those in charge, like promoter Toshikuni Matsunaga (Saitoh), can have a result in mind, that relies on those in the ring agreeing to it. This isn’t always the case [one wrestling show I remember attending definitely had a genuine fight, for backstage reasons], and here, Matsumoto is a loose cannon, prepared to go to any lengths to put herself over. Or her character: the lines are certainly blurred here, to the point of near invisibility.
What the film has is a mute woman, Azrael (Weaving) and her boyfriend, Kenan (Stewart-Jarrett), getting captured by an equally silent cult in a forest. The time and era is uncertain, but they do have working cars, so it seems fairly contemporary. They want to sacrifice her to dark, humanoid creatures which inhabits the woods, but she is able to escape back into the wilderness. She attempts to return, so she can rescue her boyfriend, and encounters the group’s spiritual leader, the pregnant Miriam (Sonne). After failing to save Kenan, and narrowly escaping from the dark creatures more than once, as well as getting buried alive, Azrael vows to take bloody and fiery revenge on the cult, and also discovers the true nature of Miriam’s pregnancy.
Reed calls in her top assassin, Sam (Whishaw), to protect Helen, fearing she might also be targeted. He has a history with Helen, dating back to before the birth of her children with Wallace. Things spiral out of control, involving the suspicious death of the Chinese ambassador, his missing daughter, a previous hit Sam botched, and Helen’s relentless pursuit of revenge, while trying to keep her family life intact. It’s a lot of balls to keep in the air, but the script does a fine job of avoiding confusion, with the wrap-up proving particularly admirable in its clarity. While I’ve read complaints about it being implausible, I have definitely seen worse. There’s room for both this, and more grounded spy shows like Slow Horses.
She was badly injured in the crash, and ends up taking shelter in the small town of San Lucas, at the home of police officer Julio (Carvajal) and his family. He’s gathering evidence against his corrupt boss, Chief Santiago (Compte), who’s working with the cartel. When Julio is exposed, Santiago decides an example must be made of the informant, wiping out not just his employee, but his entire family. The only thing standing between them and annihilation is Dominique. After she successfully repels the initial assault, she has to fortify the family home, and prepare to fend off everything Santiago can throw at her. Which is a lot of cannon fodder. Most of it tactically inept, I must say.
The Shadows are a sect of assassins, who are basically unstoppable. 13 (Ribero) is a teenage trainee, who screws up a mission in Japan alongside her instructor, Umbra (Malasan), and barely survives. 13 gets put on administrative leave, and her enforced idleness is where the problems start. In a thread strongly reminiscent of Leon, she watches a neighbour get killed by a gang, and takes care of the son, Monji. However, he vanishes, apparently abducted by the gang, and 13 isn’t standing for that. Beginning by turning low-level enforcer, Jeki (Emmanuel), she works her way up the power structure, which goes right to the top of Indonesian political society. The resulting chaos threatens to expose the Shadows, so Umbra is then dispatched to terminate their rogue agent.
In the early going, much of this unfolds inside Cassie’s head, as she goes through what perhaps seems inspired by the five stages of grief, from rejecting the reality of her predicament, through anger, and ending up in a personal commitment to do whatever is necessary in order to survive – even if this comes at the cost of her own humanity. But just when she’s on the edge of becoming a soulless killing machine, she’s relocated, and placed next to another prisoner, Thomas. He was also abducted, but more recently, so hasn’t been ground down by his situation yet, and his optimism reignites Cassie’s own interest in life. But is everything quite what it seems, or are there other agendas at work?
★★★★
Another strange thing occurs. Somebody is leaving envelopes containing money in small, dark side-streets, leading to people going on their own treasure hunt, and Mikoto & Co. try to find out who’s doing that and why. The story constantly builds and you slowly realize that you are paying much more attention to the show then you ever did before. When Mikoto finally meets her doppleganger, it’s initially almost a shock. It leads to questions: who is the girl, why is she behaving so strangely, and where does she come from? Mikoto indeed has “sisters”. Actually, a lot of them. And these girls are part of an unethical and inhuman experiment.
After this very well-built, suspenseful story arc, running from episode 2 until episode 16, I can understand why some felt the remainder of this season was a bit of a letdown. While we get another arc, the new one can’t quite compete with what happened before, though is decent on its own merits. For a while, we go back to small stories of the girls getting together and the usual jokes like e. Saten pulling up Uiharu’s skirt to embarrass her. Yes, that’s a thing. It’s alright by me. After you have clashed with the Big Bad, it’s
★★★★½
The counterpoint is experiences like this, a full-on, bombastic, in your face event that made full use of everything IMAX has in its locker, and surpassed anything I could get at home. Now, your mileage may vary. Poor Chris, in particular, found it
You would be hard-pushed to argue that the $168 million budget is not up on screen. I lost count of the times when I wondered whether what I was looking at really existed in the physical world, or was matte paintings and CGI. Part of me wants to peer behind the curtain and watch the behind the scenes videos. However, part of me would prefer to sustain the illusion, which was a factor in the sense of wonder that often washed over me during the screening. It’s the quest for that sense of awe which keeps me going to cinemas, even if most of the time, I end up leaving disappointed [I’m looking at you, Godzilla X Kong…]
Because the author and I are Goodreads friends, she graciously gifted me with a review copy of the paperback edition of this book, as she has with all of her books, as soon as it was published; though she knew I’d really liked the previous book, she didn’t pressure me for a favorable review, but trusted that the book would stand on its merits. It definitely did; I actually liked this one even better! What earned the added appreciation (and the fifth star) was what I felt was the heightened dimension of moral challenge and choice here, which for me often makes the difference between great and merely good fiction, and which isn’t as strongly present in the first book. Discerning what the right thing is here requires thinking for oneself, not just obeying orders; and deciding to do it comes with a real risk, not just of harm to life and limb, but of disapproval from the powerful, of serious repercussions to one’s career, and maybe of legal punishment. The strong, distinct characterizations of the three heroines, who are each very different individuals though sharing a basic gut instinct for justice and decency, is also a positive feature that makes the book stand out from the pack.