On the Three Kings

by Bill Bowler

Henry James called War and Peace a “loose, baggy monster.” The same might be said of Slawomir Rapala’s “The Three Kings.” 3K is ambitious in scope and magnitude. It depicts the shifting destinies of nations and peoples, an epic panorama that spans generations. In so doing, it follows the paths of a number of representative individuals, high and low, kings and assassins, princesses and mine guards, and, most importantly, the protagonist, Iskald. 3K is also, as the author points out, linked internally to other novels and forms part of a series of interconnected novels.

Given the novel’s size and scope, inconsistencies in the internal logic of the story arc, the erratic pacing of the narrative, and the lack of balance or proportion in the amount of narrative devoted to events of greater as opposed to lesser importance, might tend to render the work just a bit “loose” and “baggy.”

The author’s letter — describing Iskald’s central quest for identity and the significance of events as they relate to that quest — could well serve as an outline for the novel, an over-reaching arc that would constitute the basic framework of the story and define the track it would follow as it unfolded. It is not clear, however, that the novel, as written, follows the “outline” laid out after the fact. 3K seems to go off track from the opening scene.

If you start by posing the threat of Viking invasion of the homeland, using it as the initial hook to draw in the reader (which it does), then the Vikings cannot just disappear and then get blown off at the very end by saying Iskald’s personal discovery is what really mattered. The threat of Viking invasion raises the reader’s expectations that the story to follow will pertain to this threat and its resolution.

Aezubah is also introduced at the beginning as the nation’s defender. The unfolding story seems to be that of Aezubah’s pursuit and rescue of the abducted Iskald and the defeat of the growing Viking threat.

However, Aezubah and the Vikings quickly disappear from the narrative. The reader’s initial expectations are not satisfied. The reader feels, rather, that he was thrown off track at the very beginning.

Now, throwing the reader off track is a perfectly good device in, for example, a who-done-it, where the reader duels the author in a battle of wits. It is less desirable in an epic novel. If the Viking invasion is important only insofar as it affects Iskald’s personal quest, then that needs to be made clear from the beginning.

In the opening chapters, too much time and too many words are spent describing the beatings Iskald endured in the ship and in the mine. The beatings become repetitive and lose their effect, on the reader if not on Iskald, and the reader’s interest threatens to flag.

Conversely, potentially rich and interesting sub-plots, like Iskald’s rapid elevation to the Captain of the Guards or the tempting sorceress who Iskald encounters on his way home, are mentioned only briefly, in passing, piquing the reader’s curiosity but not satisfying it.

Focusing the story arc on the main plot, balancing the amount of narrative spent on the various sub-plots, more clearly distinguishing significant events from insignificant, and avoiding needless repetition — all of this might serve to better communicate the author’s meaning to the reader.

The paucity of dialog in the novel is notable. The story is told almost exclusively by a third person omniscient narrator. The author is adept in this mode and it is the novel’s central strength.

One result of uninterrupted third person narration, however, is to keep the readers at a distance from the characters. We do not hear the characters’ voices, nor do we observe the action from their point of view. We are not privy to the details of their personal lives, which we wish to know and experience.

The reader comes to wish that the omniscient narrator would take a breather, would stop describing everything and let the characters speak and think for themselves (dialog, internal monolog), would let the reader directly observe the characters in action at close range (dramatic scene) — i.e., would show rather than tell.

Yet, near the end of the novel, when the author does finally use dialog to build a scene (Iskald’s reunion with Aezubah), it turns out that dialog is not this author’s strong suit. When we finally descend to eye-level and hear the voices, they go out of character. The dialog is stilted, full of anachronisms and modern slang that undercut the setting and characterization.

[Aezubah] I don’t believe in victory anymore. Their numbers are growing and we can’t break through. They’ll hold us down here till spring and then they’ll bring down their ships and crush us.”

[Iskald] “That’s the pessimist in you talking.”
...
[Iskald] “So we have up to six months before the Vikings will be able to free their ships?”

[Aezubah] “Best case scenario.”

“That’s the pessimist in you talking” is not a line spoken by a warrior in antiquity, it’s a line spoken by a yuppie in Starbucks. Likewise for “best case scenario.” The author, I think, tries to use contemporary American slang to distinguish the speech of his characters from the narrator’s elevated rhetoric, but the slang is drawn from our own time and milieu, and sounds anachronistic and jarring.

All of the above being said, I enjoyed reading the novel. I thought it was great entertainment of the butter popcorn munching variety. Iskald goes on quite a trip and I was with him to the end.

The strengths of the novel, I think, are the epic narration, the plotting and, to a lesser extent, the somewhat shallow but nonetheless effective characterization. The characters are one-dimensional, in the style of superheroes in comic books or action movies, but they serve the author’s purposes of spinning a vivid yarn. That is, they are entertaining in an undemanding way.

It just seems that this may not yet be the final draft of 3K. The work could still benefit significantly from focusing the story arc and plot logic, and from balancing the scene length. More dialog would be most welcome, but the dialog has to be good.

I continue to suspect that a 15-year old boy with a vivid imagination might find much of interest in Slawomir’s burly saga.