The Golden Fool by Robin Hobb
Robin Hobb just doesn't miss.
I recently finished The Golden Fool, the second book of The Tawny Man Trilogy and my eighth book from Hobb overall. This one cracks the top three, and felt like one of the faster-paced books I've read from her.
If you are patient enough to let Hobb take her time establishing her characters and establishing a deep world, this is the sort of payoff she gives you in return. I say that while acknowledging that a lot of this book is clearly setup for the third book of this trilogy.
In The Golden Fool we follow our main protagonist, Fitz, who's finally back at Buckkeep full-time and 100% entrenched in all of the politics and spying that we're used to in the capital of the Six Duchies. This book is largely about Fitz trying to handle all of his new responsibilities, while simultaneously juggling the relationships in his life—frequently poorly—from people he's been dealing with for years (Hap, Starling) to close characters who have been reintroduced into his life (the Fool, Chade, Kettricken, Burrich) and new faces all together (Dutiful, Thick, Jinna and others).
Fitz is a compelling character because he feels so true to himself and remains incredibly flawed. Which is satisfying and frustrating all at once. He's mistrustful of basically everyone and still feels like no one could possibly care about him for his own sake. That leads him to constant rifts and arguments with the people closest to him that would otherwise just make his life easier and happier. Sometimes you want to just shake him and tell him to open his eyes for a minute.
I love how Hobb is able to slowly unfold mysteries in this world and make connections to previous installments feel deeper and more meaningful.
There are a handful of plots that start converging in this book: Fitz attempting to uncover the secrets of the skill while slowly stepping into his role as Skillmaster; Dutiful trying to handle his betrothal to an Outislander princess, Elliania; and the continued efforts to deal with the threats of the witted Piebalds, while Queen Kettricken simultaneously tries to make life easier for the Old Bloods, who have the same wit magic but are less vengeful in there pursuits of fair treatment.
This is also the first time where the Bingtown traders—from the second series—come fully on the scene in the Six Duchies. That was a ton of fun and should continue to be in the next book.
Another aspect that I've come to really love of these books is how Hobb does worldbuilding with in-universe writings that serve as chapter headers. They feel like actual extant scrolls that aren't always 100% accurate but could have hints of the truth or push you towards some deeper understanding of a topic that's only been hinted at in the main narrative. Brandan Sanderson also does this in The Stormlight Archive but I think Hobb's execution is more subtle and natural.
OK, on to the finale.
Overall: 70
- Character: 80
- Prose: 70
- Plot: 60
- Worldbuilding: 70
I use the 20-80 scale to rate things.
Highlights
- A man has to set limits on his magic and on himself. Setting limits is part of being a man.
- If a man does not die of a wound, then it heals in some fashion, and so it is with loss. From the sharp pain of immediate bereavement, both the Prince and I passed into the gray days of numb bewilderment and waiting. So grief has always seemed to me, a time of waiting not for the hurt to pass, but to become accustomed to it.
- “But change proves that you are still alive. Change often measures our tolerance for folk different from ourselves. Can we accept their languages, their customs, their garments, and their foods into our own lives? If we can, then we form bonds, bonds that make wars less likely. If we cannot, if we believe that we must do things as we have always done them, then we must either fight to remain as we are, or die.”
- It is strange to find that an emotion you thought you had set aside is still simmering under the surface.
- Discipline is not the same as punishment, I thought, and recognized it as an echo of some old words of Burrich’s.
- It wasn’t respect, but it was wariness, which often precedes respect.
- I had never asked Patience to tell me about my father; never asked her or Verity what Chivalry had thought of me. Reluctance to ask metamorphosed into secrets. Silence had let me assume the worst of my father. He had never come to see me. Had he watched me through his brother’s eyes? Should I blame them for not telling me what they, perhaps, had assumed I knew? Or should I blame myself for never demanding to know?
- I sat a time in silence, uncomfortable and yet basking in his regard. How strange to be loved simply for who I was.
- One man armed with the right word may do what an army of swordsmen cannot.
- Each circle spins off a circle of its own. Each one seems a new thing but in truth it is not. It is just our most recent attempt to correct old errors, to undo old wrongs done to us, and to make up for things we have neglected. In each cycle, we may correct old errors, but I think we make as many new ones. Yet what is our alternative? To commit the same old errors again? Perhaps having the courage to find a better path is having the courage to risk making new mistakes.