Let me show you what one little girl can do.
Of course, if you've read the first two novels in The Lotus War
, you'll know the list of what this one particular little girl can't do is probably much shorter. The only question at this point is, can one little girl survive?
Kristoff has quite the wringer to put you through before you get the answer to that. For example, within the first thirty pages -- thirty -- Kristoff reveals something about a character I'd grown to have a certain affection for, and pitied after what happened to them in the previous book. And then he does something to that character I'm not sure I'll forgive him for (will still read him, don't get me wrong, I'll just bear a grudge).
On the other hand, Endsinger
is filled with so many fist-pumping moments, and fun sentences -- like
Hiro laughed like a man who'd only read about it in books.
that you can keep pressing on -- and actually enjoy the book. Another example of this:
Michi's foot connected with the Inquisitor's groin like a redlining goods train. It was the kind of kick that made one's testicles throw up their hands and move to a monastery in the Hogosha mountains. It was the kind of kick that made orphans of a man's grandchildren.
I mean, that's something that Bruce Willis should be saying as he takes on Hans Gruber's second-cousin or whatever.
I'm not going to describe much plot-wise here. It'd bee to difficult to do it justice at this point -- if you ahven't read teh frist two books anyway, there's not a lot you'll undertand here without a lot of effort on my part. And if you've read the first two, you don't need that to be an inducement to read the this one. It'd be easy in a book like Endsinger to just point every character at the final battle, throw in an obstacle or two along the way and let that be that. Heck, just coming up with an excuse to have Yoshi and Buruu travel around for 70-100 pages as the best buddy comedy pair to come along lately would've been a very satisfying way of spending time before the big battle. Instead, we get character development -- a lot of it. We get mysteries explained. We get new characters, we learn new things about characters that we've known really well since book one (or thought we did, anyway). And they're all thrown at a couple of really big battles, with some obstacles to overcome along the way.
The themes of the first two books continue to be explored here. The two that stuck out the most for me were: what makes a hero, what do they look like and what's worth fighting for -- honor, family, love, something else. Heroes aren't what you think they are, don't look like you think they should like -- even (especially) to themselves. But everyone knows one when the see and/or hear one. As for what's worth fighting for? That's different for every one.
You don't think people should know what happened here?"
"Oh, I think they should know, no doubt. I just don't think they'll care."
"How could they not?"
"Because it will be different next time. It always is."
"Different?" Akithito frowned at the cloudwalker captain.
"Different," the Blackbird nodded. "Whatever they fight over. It'll have a different name or a different shape -- religioin or territory or black or white. People will look back on us and say 'we could never be that blind.' People don't learn from history. Not people who count, anyway."There's a measure of cynicism, realism and idealism in Kristoff's exploration of these (and other) themes. It's tough, and probably ill-advised, to try to pin one of these viewpoints on Kristoff. But it seems to me that idealism's voice is a bit louder than the rest.
Kristoff is great at keeping you on your toes. Things are bleak, but you start to think that hope is on the horizon, that one calvary or another is coming -- and coming soon. And then the hope is dashed. Or you start to think that all hope is gone and things are going to fall to ruin, and this is going to turn into a YA historical dystopian series, but then a new source of hope, a new rabbit gets pulled from a hat. He blindsides you time after time, from every direction.
Kristoff is great at his pacing, there are many moments he lets breathe, lets the readers and the characters observe everything going on, taking in all the sensory information and the thoughts of everyone. But he's also capable of throwing in a sudden scene to grab the reader. The quick scenes bouncing around between the various characters in the heat of battle really work well to keep the tension high (though that can be a bit confusing unless you force yourself to slow down and read carefully -- which is the last thing you want to do at that moment).
After awhile -- about three-quarters through the book, after alll the death, destruction, and (seemingly) climactic confrontations and battles getting you to that point, you simply can't believe Kristoff can keep it going. How can the book last so many more pages? Is he going to give us a Peter Jackson's Return of the King-style multi-epilogue? Probably not, it really seem to be Kristoff's style. And then Kristoff shows you how he's going to fill the rest of the book, and you pity all his characters, even those you've grown to despise, because that's just not right.
In the end, Endsinger is a very satisfying conclusion to one of my favorite series in recent years. It'd have been easy for him to go for a "Everybody lives, Rose" kind of thing, where Hiro and the Lotus Guild are destroyed, Yukiko and Buruu are universally hailed as heroes, the Kage take over, and happily ever after. But he doesn't give us that. Instead, we get the kind of conclusion promised in the first two books: it was emotionally satisfying (and induced a wide range of emotions), it gave characters real conclusions to their arcs (not all happy endings), it tied up what needed to be tied up and it pointed towards the future. I'm going to miss this world and most of these characters. But I'm glad Kristoff didn't try to milk this longer -- it's great as it is.