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published 1991; paperback 1991
Even though I'm a big fan of C.S. Friedman's two science-fiction novels, the sheer mass of The Coldfire Trilogy put me off, as each novel weighs in at about six hundred pages. Unfortunately the law of diminishing returns hold true in fantasy literature as well: I think Black Sun Rising could have been a much more affecting book had it been a couple of hundred pages shorter. And part of what could have been cut out is the sense-deadening depictions of grue: After the second or third horse staggered away trailing its own intestines and bugling its death-cry, I began to lose interest. But I still couldn't put the book down, even when it started to put me off my feed. (Mental note: do not read books that obsess about viscera while attempting to eat cold lasagna. While working an on-call shift for the emergency room. It just isn't pleasant.)
The story is about a group of adventurers who travel to the lands inhabited by the rakh, a species that has become sentient since the arrival of human beings on the planet. Exposed to human ideas about evolution, the rakh began to evolve so quickly that humans were able to document the changes in the rakh population. Why did this happen? The planet's tectonic forces somehow adapt to human thought, which can take physical shape. Any thoughts, feelings, and doubts experienced by human beings not only color but twist and shape the immediate environment, often with horrible results: nightmares and ill-wishes stalk the land. The only thing that keeps these all-too-solid images (called the fae-born, or, if powerful, demons) at bay is light, and a certain kind of ceremonial magic. Wardsigns decorate every city wall and building. The rakh shape the fae-current as naturally as breathing, which leads to trouble when the humans begin to become frightened of the rapidly-changing rakh. Now the rakh are at a level not too far below a tribal human society, despite the slaughters that the terrified humans had perpetuated.
As a concept this is terribly interesting. What, exactly, is the capability of the human group-mind? One man, the Prophet, decided that to make life on the planet Erna less dangerous, humans needed to develop a system of magic that was fail-safe. He chose to base it on religious ideals to take advantage of the tremendous amounts of psychic energy most people pour into religious experience. It could not depend too much on symbolism, lest the symbols themselves take life and wreak havoc, and it had to be abstract and syncretic enough to satisfy all the humans on Erna, who had brought diverse practices with them from Earth. Though his religion is a success, the Prophet is not; he can't bear knowing that he will be unable to witness the results of his creation. What he wants to see happen is probably the most frightening concept of this series.
Although this novel is, technically, a science-fiction novel (set on another planet, reached by space technology) I chose to classify it as a fantasy novel for the reason that the themes Friedman chooses to explore are essentially themes of fantasy literature. This is a planet where dreams actually can come true; unfortunately, most dreams are awful and dangerous.
Black Sun Rising spends too much time having its characters wander all over the scenery experiencing painful stimuli. Have patience. This series is slow to warm up. It might even leave many readers cold. But the sheer weight of philosophical speculation was more than enough to get me to take a second look. I don't predict that anybody will actually enjoy this novel, but then, the works of C.S. Friedman are for those who prefer to be disturbed.
Review by Becky Parkhurst
Reviewed May 8, 1997
ISBN 0-88677-527-2
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