Book Review: Elantris

     I’m currently reading Elantris, by Brandon Sanderson. It is about a magical people who’ve lost their magic. It’s about how purpose can drive away madness, and passion can drive us to madness. It deals with the politics and religions of a fictional world in a way that allows the suspension of disbelief.

     There are 4 characters who are the primary drivers of action: a dead man with a thousand pains, a clever widow who never met her husband, a priest with ruthless dedication, and an ambitious zealot with madness on his sleeve and method in his mind. Nobody knows the full situation, yet everyone is caught up in it.

     While reading this book, I’ve noticed something that connects much of Sanderson’s writing: hope. Yes, he creates believable politics (I’m ignoring the question of realism, a different beast altogether). He creates complex and interesting magic systems which seem to tie back into emotions, reason, and a basic understanding of science. Finally, he often puts groups of people into situations so desperate that they lose all semblance of hope.

     Then someone finds it. A desperate soul rife with integrity, intelligence, ingenuity, and some measure of combat ability. (Though they may have a loyal bodyguard with great martial skill.) This hero finds the hope and holds it forth for others to see. People follow the hero and become endlessly loyal. It’s what I loved about the way of Kings, what I somehow did not see originally see in the Mistborn trilogy (it’s a bit more subtle there), and it’s what stood out, proud and blunt, in Elantris.

     Elantris is his 1st book, so the moral hero (as I will describe this archetype) is perhaps less nuanced than in later books, but the Sanderson brand of hope and defiant optimism is definitely there. I think it’s a good thing; it reminds me of the line from (and don’t make fun of me for this, please) the Phil Collins song, Hero: “It was one of those great stories that you can’t put down at night; the hero knew what he had to do and he wasn’t afraid to fight.”

     I definitely prefer the Sanderson hero to the muscled one; give me a dedicated hero who inspires with hope and intelligence over an antihero who stumbles in and saves the day with muscles and explosions. Most the time, of course. I do like occasional explosions.

     I also realized something about his magic systems: he always seems to have a source for the magic. Of course, there are a couple of his books I haven’t read. But whether it’s sprites, gods, or something about the land itself, there’s a reason that world has magic we don’t in our world. Based on what I’ve heard from him on Writing Excuses (a weekly podcast he does with other authors), I fully expect that will hold true in the rest of his stories and books. His world building is astounding, and I enjoy trying to predict the mysteries of his magic, as well the plot and character turns the stories will take.

     I appreciate Sanderson’s understanding of people from so many walks of life; he seems to have an understanding of men, women, the rich, the poor, the honorable, and the despicable. It’s possible he gets them wrong, even that he writes caricatures of real people in some cases. But they are believable enough in the stories that I don’t get pulled out.

     I also want to say that the personality of the moral hero matches what I have seen in Sanderson’s personality. I’ve met him briefly at signings and listened both to his podcast and some of his panels. He’s pleasant, enthusiastic, and intelligent. He certainly determined; he wrote a dozen epics before he got published. That practice is why, I believe, he is a master of his craft; he put  years into writing before he was published. That kind of dedication and passion for his craft shows through in his use of language, in his characters, and in his magnificent worlds.

     Now, back to reading. I want to see what happens with Hrathen.