I think that everyone has their own definition of a ‘working’ eclectic setting in the fantasy genre. For someone, very vague inspirations may work. Someone may not need names and landscapes that are based on a given place or culture from our world. It works brilliantly in such classics as LeGuin’s ‘Earthsea’, and it works in Traci Chee’s books, let’s say. But what I like more is when the author dedicates their talent to describe a setting that purposefully reminds us of some place. ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’, with its aura of the quasi-Early Modern Period Venice, is a good example of that.
Scott Lynch’s novel isn’t as close to historical fantasy as, for example, most novels of Guy Gavriel Kay are. But neither it is your stock Anglocentric stuff. Of course, some paranormal and fantasy elements are rooted in the English and American classics of speculative fiction, but the setting is still all but derivative. It’s well-drawn and well thought.
In many fantasy novels, names are very random, but this isn’t the case. If you read about a doña Salvara or about a road called the Via Camorrazza, it’s pretty obvious that the setting is based on the Mediterranean, and the names are meant to sound Italian and Spanish, and sometimes, Latin and Greek. For some, a city called Camorr or a gang boss holding the title of a Capa may not sound subtle enough. Camorr like Camorra? Capa like Capo? And they kiss his ring at that… But to my mind, it isn’t an unimaginative derision from Italian proper names and the “Godfather” series. It allows the reader to play an intertextual game, to find delight in guessing references. When everything is your random English, you don’t have so much fun. Unless you read Pratchett parodying Shakespeare, of course. When you can’t guess inspirations behind the text, the setting may become even more boring to you. Why should you enjoy details if you can’t say where they are from? And there are many details in ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’, and you can indulge yourself in guessing what is Italian in his novel, what is Spanish, and what is… Lovecraftian. You can wonder if the gone Therin Empire is based on the Roman Empire or if the Vadrans are the local Swiss. You can make theories about the mysterious substance called Elderglass, left by the older race who built the cities in this setting. And, hey, doesn’t this last trope sound Lovecraftian? This abundance of references isn’t boring. It’s a delight.
Of course, a setting needs not only names and a ‘mysterious’ substance scattered here and there in your imaginary city. It needs an aura, and it needs vivid descriptions. In ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’, you have both. You can feel the oppressive, stinking heat of a dirty city full of channels, all this in a Mediterranean weather. You can feel those brief moments of repose after a rain. You can imagine olive trees and vine, great palaces and dilapidated houses. And you can see all this mentioned not to fill the quota of ‘gritty, realistic fantasy’, but to immerse yourself and accept this setting as it is, trying to understand it. Because there are a lot of things to think about there.
I’m a bit conflicted about how Lynch writes about class because I’m not sure what he wants to convey. And if I am not sure, that’s not because he can’t handle some tropes. To the contrary, I’d say that his setting has been created so subtly that you have to make your own conclusions, which can be both demanding and rewarding. On the one hand, I’m happy that in ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’ there is no ‘how a YA author images the exciting lives of thieves’. No, the lives of Locke and his companions aren’t just exciting. They are dangerous. They can be frustrating and dull. And they are rooted in an escape from poverty. And poverty in this setting isn’t romantic or glamorous; neither it is nasty for its nastiness. We know what the characters have been through. They aren’t like the Stark kids in ASoIaF, thrown from riches to rags. On the other hand, I feel that there is bigger picture missing in Locke’s story, that we should have been told something more about social relations in his world. But, maybe, we can’t always be told.
Another thing is that if you aren’t going to read the following parts of the series, you may be left with an impression that the author had problems with writing about women and their role in the setting’s society. Sure, there are craftswomen, warriors, alchemists, traders, officials, botanists… It seems that this quasi-Renaissance world isn’t typically patriarchal. But female characters in the first book are on the backstage. Locke and his friends are more important. Still, surprisingly enough, ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’ pass the Bechdel tests (you can find a scene when two well-born women talk about politics). There is also the problematic aspect of a likeable and resourceful female character who is killed in a vendetta. However, this series becomes better book by book, literally, and you’ll find more important women in the subsequent novels. And I like it when an author is capable of spotting such aspects of their story to improve them later. Just as I like that no one forgets about class divisions in this setting, and no one pretends that it’s an equal, idyllic world merely because there is one oppression less there (Yes, I’m thinking about the Six Duchies novels by Robin Hobb as a negative example of that).
Nonetheless, it’s a mark of a good story when you genuinely like something despite its lacks. In some aspects, ‘The Lies of Locke Lamora’ is your typical early 2000s novel, but it’s also captivating, imaginative, and simply well-written. If you don’t know why it’s a contemporary fantasy classic or why it has been so popular, give it a try. It’s worthy of it.
Left Hand of Fiction 