Chris Bissette

The Devils - Joe Abercrombie

Last year I began a read-through of all of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels. I didn’t finish them - didn’t even come close to finishing them, truth be told - but one thing I observed early on is that Pratchett regularly revisited old ideas, approaching them from new angles and trying to make them work a little better than he’d made them work the first time around.

Joe Abercrombie’s The Devils is his first non-First Law book in a decade, and it very much feels like he’s taking a second run at some ideas he’s played with in the past. In a lot of ways it serves as a Greatest Hits of his style, for both better and worse. Many of the characters feel like people we’ve seen before: the grizzled old veteran, scarred from a lifetime of unyielding violence, who just won’t die no matter how many holes you poke in him or how many tall buildings you throw him off; the berserker who tries desperately the keep a handle on the monster that lives inside them, who will kill everything in its path if it’s allowed to be free; the wounded old soldier whose greatest enemy is stairs; the arrogant, dangerous expert, a master in his field, who wants nothing more or less than to be vaunted above all others. (Interestingly, three of the four archetypes I’ve mentioned there are represented across two characters).

Structurally, too, this is a story shape we’ve seen him dabble in before, most notably in Best Served Cold, my least-favourite of the standalone First Law novels. Where Best Served Cold is the story of a quest for revenge, this is a journey to seat a new Empress that’s beset by constant attacks by her political rival, in a manner that brought to mind the League of Evil Exes from Scott Pilgrim Versus The World.

When I say that this is a ā€œGreatest Hitsā€ novel for Abercrombie, I don’t just mean that it’s repeating a lot of things that he’s done previously. It’s also very much a distilliation of everything that he’s been doing stylistically over his career. Chapters are short and punchy, often revolving around characters having An Observation that’s repeated regularly - sometimes too regularly - before the scene ends on a bit of a punch line that refers back to said observation. There’s a sense that Abercrombie doesn’t really enjoy the interstitial scenes that get characters from one set piece to the next, and so he simply skips over them - with the result that the book is almost wall-to-wall action and excitement, lacking some connective tissue that helps us ground ourselves in the When of the novel.

This was a problem I had with Best Served Cold in particular, and one that carries on into the Age of Madness trilogy. In both cases I struggle to get a sense of how much time is passing between scenes, for how long the characters have been journeying before they reach their destination. The problem isn’t as pronounced here, but it’s definitely present, and it’s a facet of Abercrombie’s writing that I find really interesting. The original First Law trilogy has plenty of long journeys, and Red Country is almost entirely a long journey, and yet this compression of time and lack of temporal landmarking isn’t an issue there. I suspect that what’s happening is that Abercrombie finds writing long journeys quite dull and so chooses to compress them, but if that’s the case then I have to wonder why he keeps plotting novels that require long journeys.

This may all sound very critical - and it is - but despite all that, I think this is the best novel Joe has written in years, perhaps since The Heroes. While it’s a distillation of all the problems I have with his writing, it also distills all of the good parts of his writing, too. It’s hugely confidently written, and it’s probably his funniest novel to date - not least of all because it’s one of his least nihilistic books. It’s grim and violent and messy and bloody, yes, but unlike a lot of his other work it isn’t bleak. This, I think, was my main problem with The Age of Madness, that there’s very little joy to counteract the po-faced seriousness of it all. In The Devils it’s very clear that Abercrombie is having a ton of fun writing these characters and this story, and that’s carried across over every page.

And despite these often being characters we’ve seen in other incarnations in his work, I liked spending time with them a lot more than I enjoyed spending time with anybody in his last trilogy. I cared about these characters in ways that I never cared about anybody in The Age of Madness. Arrogant necromancer Balthazar Sham Ivam Draxi may well be a thinly-veiled revisiting of Best Served Cold’s poisoner Castor Morveer, but he’s a character I actually liked and wanted to spend time with, who showed actual character growth, who I wanted to succeed despite being a self-absorbed shit most of the time.

It’s also really, really nice to see Abercrombie coming back to a world steeped in his own specific take on magic. The magic in The First Law trilogy is weird and dangerous and I’ve always wished we got a chance to see more of it (specifically the stuff about the spirits and Logen breathing fire in The Blade Itself, which has never been revisited or mentioned). It’s a theme across that series that industrialisation has killed the magic in the world, and each subsequent book has strayed further into territory that interests me less and less. The Devils comes screaming back into a place that I find incredibly fun, and I want to see more of this weirdly magical alternate-Europe that he’s created.

This isn’t a perfect book, but it’s one that I had a great time with. I think I’m very much in the minority of readers who didn’t enjoy The Age of Madness, and so I went into this a little hesitant and a little worried that it was going to be another series from Abercrombie that didn’t interest me. But despite the flaws - or, if not flaws, then ā€œthings that don’t quite align with my personal tastes as a readerā€ - I enjoyed the hell out of this, and I want to spend a lot more time in this world. Sign me up for the sequel.

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