Well... hmm. I'm glad I played Dragon Age: Origins before discovering and reading this prequel book. In fact, I kind of wish I could just write a review about Dragon Age: Origins. That game took me by surprise; even though it sold itself as yet another medieval fantasy derivative, the story and characters exerted a surprisingly strong grip on me. One of the standout elements of the game was its writing, which is why I was excited to find this book. Unfortunately, it looks like talent with lore-writing and world-building does not automatically translate into talent with writing books.
The book takes place a few decades before the start of Dragon Age: Origins. The cruel Orlesian usurper, Meghren, sits on the throne of Ferelden. Moira Thierin, the rightful ruler, has been slain in an act of base treachery, and her son Maric finds himself separated from the rebel army and on the run. By chance, he finds himself at the mercy of Loghain Mac Tir, a commoner outlaw who is also on the run from the usurper's soldiers, but has no reason to love Maric, either. With Loghain's reluctant help, Maric must decide whether he is capable of rising past his reputation as a lazy, incompetent layabout and becoming the beacon of hope that his people desperately need.
Honestly, there isn't a whole lot in the story itself that most medieval fantasy readers haven't seen before. Naive princeling that must learn how to be a true king? Check. Dangerous turncoat that can't help but fall for our hero with a heart of gold? Check. We even have a Guinevere facsimile, for crying out loud. That isn't to say that the story is bad, necessarily. In fact, it's pretty good. It just plays second fiddle to the settings, names, and monsters, which are meant to advertise the video game for those that haven't played it, and be fan service to those that have.
Loghain is the star of the book, and is the reason I picked this one up. He is such an interesting character in the game, a villain with noble intentions that I sometimes liked more than some of the heroes. He doesn't disappoint in this book, either; he is the best kind of protagonist, with glaring flaws but a consistent moral compass. He's even better for those that have played the game, offering a lot of sobering insight into who Loghain is and why he makes the decisions that he does.
Okay, so, all of that is well and good, but someone needs to inform Gaider that he shouldn't publish a book without an editor, even if Bioware says that it's cool. Or, if there was an editor at Tor that looked at this manuscript and let it go to print, someone needs to slap them across the face a few times to sober them up. Either one or the other has to be the reason for the preponderance of unnecessary sentences, confused metaphors, and frankly bad writing that constantly gets in the way of the story. I'm not talking about typos and mangled grammar, although there is plenty of both. I'm talking about things like using "mind you" in the omniscient narration. I'm talking about boneheaded writing mistakes that should have been caught in even a cursory readthrough.
For example, I'm pretty sure the Rebel Queen isn't "her grandfather's daughter," unless the bloodline of Calenhad is more messed up than I thought it was. Also, Mr. Gaider, the word "decapitate" means to separate the head from the body. Therefore, I don't think one of the sentences on page 208, "the creature's head was instantly decapitated," is saying what you're intending to say. I like to imagine that the spider's head had a smaller, cigar-chomping head on top, and Rowan severed it for making one too many Brooklyn-accented wisecracks.
I chuckled my way through this book because of these unintentionally hilarious tidbits, which is a shame because there's plenty to like, here. Gaider has a real gift for creating gritty, dark, plot-centric fantasy. Kind of like George R. R. Martin at his best, before he said "fuck it" and dove balls-first into the deep end of the misogyny pool. If anybody had actually read this book through a couple of times and offered some useful suggestions (like, for example, that Gaider should actually write about the River Dane battle, an iconic part of Loghain's character, instead of fobbing it off on the epilogue), it actually could have worked well as a standalone novel.
As it is, this is worth reading if you are already a fan of Dragon Age, like me. For all its comedy and tragedy, I liked it. In fact, I'm itching to play the game again, which is the best measure of success a book like this can have. For newcomers, though, it's much too unpolished and amateurish to take seriously. Try the game, first.
Verdict: 2 / 5
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