Fantasy authors have a league of their own. They play for various intramural teams, such as The Snarky Sendups (Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series), Cape-Clad Mind Explosions (Wheel of Time), Chemistry Set (Mistborn), or Space Cadets (Speaker for the Dead). Last but not least are the Gravitas Gang (Frank Herbert, C. S. Lewis). Tolkien is relaxing in a comfortable hole in the ground, still writing the rulebook. In Elvish.
With Assassin’s Apprentice, the first of the Farseer Trilogy, Robin Hobb has created a team rather than signed up for one. Most fantasy fiction worlds I’ve personally explored either have a semi-futuristic feel or, more commonly, an Arthurian legend or Middle-Earth feel to them. Assassin’s Apprentice departs from this trend into a kind of medieval Nordland, more fjordi-ish than British countryside-ish, more wintry than summer-y, and fishing villages are beset by raiders rather than magnificent cities beset by vast armies. Dirt and mud are the most common indoor surface: the floors are strewn with reeds as a luxury, even in the king’s palace, and much of the book takes place in and out of the stables. But for protagonist Fitz and his companions, this is normal life and not at all abhorrent, as it might be to our First World sensibilities. Hunks of bread, cheese, and meat make hearty meals. Warm wool and warm fires are the comforts of home. Candle-making is an art, as much for medicine as for fragrance and light. There is a sense of deep appreciation for animals, especially dogs and horses, not only with regard to their health, comfort, and training but even for the function and artistry of their tack. But not all is care for or building of homes. To protect and defend his people and the family he hopes to have, the protagonist must venture out, usually alone, to engage in subterfuge, assassination (of course), and occasionally to create Iliadic rivers of blood. He must also wrestle with himself, making human mistakes as he fights his way from boyhood to manhood.
The main drawback to this book, in my opinion, is that it could have benefited from an enthusiastic editor. Heft is a frequent deterrent to readers making first forays into fantasy worlds, and for inexperienced hikers it can certainly feel like a slog. However, the world of this book affirms and challenges young men to fight, protect, and defend, not only through skill and wit in battle but through devotion to and care for the home. True, staying in and going forth seem opposites. But balanced, they may be channeled toward the same purpose: creation of a strong and vital life, one that is manly because of its physical, mental, and moral strength, because of its self-discipline and generosity to others. Maintaining that balance may be most difficult, but striving for that state of manliness is most admirable.
Continuing the trilogy will entail a new set of cautions. The second book, Royal Assassins, features recurring moments of premarital intimacy, not graphic; the importance of marriage is affirmed but transgressed. Recommended for 14+.