Beyond: On Valdemar and the American Mythos

Since apparently I'm going back to all my middle school fandoms (might skip Piers Anthony, tho) I picked up the newest(?) Valdemar book, expecting to be annoyed at it, and I was, but also liked it a lot more than I thought I would.

Spoilers ahead, including quite a big twist at the end.

Summary: Before the magic talking horses, there was the Evil Empire that you might recall showed up in the Storms Trilogy with vaguely Orientalist notes. A thousand years ago (because it's always a thousand, haha, good one Lackey) the Empire mostly resembled Fantasy Europe, and Lord Valdemar decided to build a magic Gate and fuck off with his entire duchy, because he was oppressed or something. Here's the actual logistics of how he did it.

"Beyond" is fundamentally a pandemic novel, from the dedication to essential workers at the beginning, to the references to home baking peppered throughout, to the yawning disillusionment with the ability or desire of those in power to protect the people. It is a slow journey, a feeling of being stuck in one place while the clock ticks down, and Lackey displays her talent for worldbuilding fantasy infrastructure, getting down into the details of how things get made and moved, from horse breeding to pig farming to shipping lanes. I'm sure an actual medievalist would find plenty to fault, but it's enough to sound plausible to a layperson (me).

The focus on a threat at home, rather than from abroad or a simple Nebulous Malice, is a fresh take on the Valdemar setting, which was honestly getting pretty stale (I stopped around the Storms trilogy). Lackey seems to have gotten a better editor as well, one who doesn't let her have characters sit around and psychoanalyze each other badly, and makes her keep her worldbuilding notes succinct. The characters also pop with individual personalities, something I thought Lackey had run out of; perhaps I've simply been away long enough that I don't recognize them anymore. But coming up with characters who aren't stamped out of the Herald mold and have new backstories, interests, and goals, has been good for Valdemar; among our colorful cast we have Valdemar's incredibly competent wife and platonic BFF, the plucky wilderness explorer with the goodest doggo, and the hyperactive kleptomaniac crossdressing wizard. It is effortlessly readable, and if not quite cozy, at least slower than the usual fantasy road trip. Keeping to a few locations lets the world and the characters layer up on each other in interesting ways.

Also, the ending is way more ballsy than I thought Lackey was capable of, so kudos to her.

Still, the series annoys me, and not much has changed there.

The entire thing reeks of American exceptionalism, and has since the beginning. A people fleeing a terrible empire to found their own nation of Freedom far away? Yeah, where did that idea come from? Kordas Valdemar is obnoxiously perfect in every way - he went through all the Imperial programming everyone else in the kingdom did, but "he" didn't buy into any of it, because his father raised him to be "special." So we have a man how is loudly Not Misogynistic and Not Homophobic and would probably be Not Racist if there were any cultural diversity to speak of. Given that it's an Empire, you'd think that there would be some friction with conquered lands.

In fact, everything we have about the Empire is simply in Evil Shorthand. There is war - over there somewhere. There is homophobia - not Here, because we are all Good individuals and there is absolutely nothing systemic about queerphobia except that gay marriage isn't legal (well it's not legal in Later Valdemar either, is it Kordas?). People in the Capital are mean. The Emperor "controls" things, in a sort of nebulous way that mostly comes off as inconvenience. There's just such a failure to recognize systemic oppression, despite clearly being inspired by Trump's America, it's boggling. I'm not saying graphic descriptions of violence are necessary, but there is a way of conveying things in details. Making them personal. Every time Lackey shows a Bad Empire Thing happening to Kordas, she shies away from having it affect him. The biggest oversight is his relationship with his father; a cold, distant man who was more focused on his people and making sure Kordas grew up Good than actually showing affection. And Kordas is just "I was sad but I understand why he did it so I'm fine." And it literally never comes up again. Honestly, Bad Things just don't happen to Kordas. Every setback turns itself to his advantage with absolutely no effort on his part. Stripped of your titles and have your lands handed off to the local spy? Turns out the guy was on your side all along. Honestly, everyone is just falling over themselves to help the guy.

Which is another wasted opportunity because Kordas is at his most interesting when he is up to mischief. Deciding to free the Empire's magical slave creatures because he feels bad for them? Okay. But realizing that stripping the Capital of its entire workforce is going to fuck shit up as a mere afterthought? Boring.

But [HI BIG SPOILER AHEAD]

I seriously did not think that man had the balls to just fucking. Up and assassinate the fucking Emperor in cold blood. Like holy fuck. The man who ten pages ago was like "ooo, but stealing is kind of wrong?" when helping himself to the Empire's loot. And then just burns the fucking city to the ground. Which, I was wondering about how he was choosing to leave rather than fight - a valid choice, but one that requires thought - but you know, protagonist syndrome, plot solves itself for him.

Then there's the colonialism.

You just can't write a "people exploring an unspoiled wilderness" story without invoking colonialism. You just can't. You can't get away from it by saying "oh, but in this fantasy world it really was wilderness!" or "oh, but this time they're nice to the indigenous people!" At the absolute minimum, these people are travelling to a completely different ecosystem and bringing in all their livestock and crops and farming strategies without any thought to what's there already. They're like, two time zones over, so that's the difference between Kentucky and Colorado. So maybe this gets handled in the next book, but I'm skeptical.

Then again, Lackey surprised me here, so maybe she will again.

Because of course I'm going to read the next one of these stupid talking horses books. Of course.

In conclusion: Interesting worldbuilding and plot, annoying morals. Typical Valdemar.