|
March 2008
Water Logic by Laurie J. Marks
Heather Whipple drinks tea and avoids writing book reviews in Portland, Oregon. She was on the motherboard of Broad Universe when it first began and is an archivist for the Tiptree Award.
What we must have is the steadiness that comes from balance: the insight and passion of fire, the solidity and fertility of earth, the ideals and intelligence of air, the fluidity and vision of water. When, through informing and contradicting each other, the elements are in balance, then they become stable, and then we have strength. But how can an entire country be in balance? asked Zanja. How can we do now what we must, while also devising a future? Oh, it's an impossible task, said Medric. Let us begin it at once. I don't like to write book reviews. Probably, as the Sainnite clerk Gilly says in Laurie J. Marks' Earth Logic, I'd rather be incapable than incompetent. I tend to think in words and symbols, as fire logic goes in her elemental system, but when it comes to expressing my understanding of a work—a book, a story, a painting, a song—my impulse is to hand over the work itself: Here it is, it is what it is, and you may enjoy it or understand it or not. Earth logic, of a sort. At least an earthy aspect of the fiery experience of ideas and abstractions. However, in this case, my natural inclination was overruled by tea logic, a challenge put forth by the publisher of Marks' third Elemental Logic book, Water Logic. A lot of tea is brewed, appreciated, savored, and thoroughly enjoyed in the three books published so far (Fire Logic being the first and Earth Logic the second), though despite this challenge, I believe Water Logic has much less tea time than Earth Logic did. Tea is a communal activity more often than not, and the family coming together in the first book spends more time together—in sorrow and in celebration—in the second book; by the third book, politics overwhelms and dilutes the family, leaving less time for companionship around the teapot. At the same time, a larger community—a country, perhaps, or at least a government—is forming around them, grounded by a gifted cook we all would wish to have to feed us. The family may have been lost in the crowd, but the crowd will come to know itself as a community and break bread together, with or without tea. At least that is the hope of the book, as shown by the reunited, slightly expanded family at the end who have come together again as the country has not, quite, yet. The hope is in the "yet" although there is no guarantee in the story. As a reader, I find myself unhappy to consider an unhappy ending to the series, which ending, happy or not, I assume to be coming in the eventual fourth book, Air Logic. On the other hand, air logic sees everything very clearly, cuts through ambiguity, and finds the truth without mercy. It is not friendly or compassionate. It is—or perceives itself to be—just. Somewhat disconcerting when one is hoping for that happy ending. I am avoiding trying to describe water logic because I don't understand it. If not for tea logic, I would wait until the fourth book is published and reread the entire story before attempting to describe what I think it's about. I don't mean to suggest waiting that long to start reading; on the contrary: There is much to enjoy and ponder and no need to wait. Besides, none of the characters understand water logic either: it baffles the ones who tend toward fire and repels those linked to earth. I'm not sure we've yet seen how the air thinkers interact with water; perhaps that pairing works, somehow. Certainly it seems that fire and earth people find their way to each other and provide some contrast and balance to the way each approaches problems and comprehension. So I'm going to let myself off the hook until I can read the last chapter of this story, where perhaps I'll be able to understand water in contrast and conjunction with air logic. And look, I'm still avoiding the subject. In any case, my inability to grasp the essence of water logic should in no way be interpreted as a reason not to read the books. Why should you read these books? And yes, it is books, plural. Perhaps some would be able to jump in there, but I can't separate this book from the story that comes before; it would be like starting a novel in the middle, ignoring the first half. There's too much good writing and rich context in the first two books, so you really must go out and read them first. It's not hard; they've got adventure and intrigue, secret identities and mysterious portents, people lost and found, family lost and gained, and new ways of thinking about marriage, parenting, governing, fighting, and learning. There are cryptic texts and icons to be interpreted (sadly, no illustrations of these are in the books but a few can be seen here), dreams and talking beasts, soldiers with children, and all manner of landscape and weather. Lots of food of varying quality, and good food is always accompanied by gratitude to the chef. And there is tea, good tea, generally given the respect and consideration it deserves. Water Logic comes into the story after a truce between the invaded and the invaders has been tentatively woven. There is less tea, but more people get to enjoy the miraculous concoctions of Garland, the cook. Soldiers and farmers clash and come together and misunderstand and tentatively learn each others' languages. A traveler crosses the country, back and forth, gets lost again, makes improbable connections, and interweaves threads from the past and present in surprising ways. People tackle impossible problems and sometimes find away through them. Children grow in the care and attention of many parents. Soldiers and townspeople change their expectations of themselves and the other. Injuries of various kinds are sustained and sometimes healed. Someone sees the ocean for the first time; someone falls through the ice; someone is almost lost at sea. No one fully understands yet what any of this means, but the glimpses we get of the mysterious water witch and her incredible powers to cross boundaries of time make us want to know more. If you are lucky, like the characters in Marks' books sometimes are, you will have a companion or three to sit with you in silence as you all ponder the confusion and tension and hope and misery in the world around you (and in this book). Someone may make a silly joke or comment on the cryptic text he has been studying. Someone may work silently on the chair back she is mending, broken by the child you all can faintly hear making a joyful racket somewhere outside in the sun. And if you are very lucky, there will be tea.
Fire Logic, Tor Books (2002), ISBN 0312878877
|
||
|
|
||
