Chris Roberson Answers Questions 5

Chris Roberson is the author of numerous novels including most recently Set the Seas on Fire (my review), Paragaea: A Planetary Romance, and Here, There & Everywhere. He has been a finalist for the World Fantasy Award for Short Fiction, the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and twice for the Sidewise Award for Best Alternate History Short Form (winning in 2004 with his story “O One.” He also runs the independent press MonkeyBrain Books with his wife.

His latest novel Set the Seas on Fire was released by Solaris in August and I’m happy that he took the time to answer Questions 5.

Chris, as a Texan, I can only assume that along side your expertise in cowboy boots, horseback riding and BBQ, that you can let the world know the proper way to prepare armadillo. How do you prefer your armadillo?

CR: As a matter of fact, I do own a pair of cowboy boots, I spent a bit of time as a kid riding horses (and have the belt buckle I won in a barrel-riding competition to prove it), and consume my weight in BBQ on a regular basis. And so I can tell you with some sense of authority that armadillo makes a pretty lousy entrée. See, the hairy little bastards carry leprosy, and no stringy roadkill is worth having your nerves go dead and bits of you falling off. That said, I’m sure that someone has developed a tofu-based substitute, “almostdillo” or some such, with all the great stringy taste and none of the leprosy, in which case the clear answer would be that teriyaki is the way to go.

While some out there can see the obvious connection between monkey brains and books, others could use a bit of direction – please enlighten us.

CR: I think it’s a kind of litmus test, actually. MonkeyBrain Books appeal to the kind of reader who instinctively gets why having a monkey’s exposed brain on the spine is perfectly fitting. But I suppose there might be a transitive property there, and if a reader who doesn’t get it buys and reads the books anyway, maybe they’ll come to understand, sooner or later.

How do you picture the ‘natural habitat’ of Set the Seas on Fire?

CR: In every home in the English-speaking world? Too broad? Then how about in the personal library of every reader who thinks that “Napoleonic era nautical adventure” and “love story” and “Polynesian zombies” are three phrases that fit together perfectly.

What peculiar qualities of Set the Seas on Fire should readers be aware of?

CR: So far as I’ve been able to determine (and the very excellent copy editor, Lawrence Osbourn, agreed), there’s not a word in the book that wasn’t in use by 1808, the period in which the story is set. And believe me, sitting in the 21st century and trying to figure out how to describe “bioluminescence” in as few words as possible using an early 19th century vocabulary was no fun at all.

Why should Set the Seas on Fire be the next book that everyone reads?

CR: Well, obviously, because sooner or later everyone will read it, and wouldn’t it be better to be ahead of the curve, and to be able to say that you read and enjoyed the book long before it became simply another status symbol?

Cover Art at Sea

I haven’t blogged about cover art in a while, so I figure it’s time for another post. This installment covers a few newer and upcoming releases of cover art with scenes from the high seas – mostly sailing. Why? Well – why not I say.

First up is Red Seas Under Red Skies (author Scott Lynch) – the UK version (top) and the US version (bottom).

First, notice that this violates a very fundamental rule of cover art – that UK versions are better than their US counterparts. This is clearly not the case this time. The UK cover art with it red, white, and black isn’t really bad, but when put next to the US cover art (which is simply spectacular) it doesn’t compare. I like both – but the US version is some of the best cover art I’ve seen in a long time. I couldn’t find out who the artists for these are, so please comment if you know who the credit goes to – I’ll happily edit them in (edit - it appears the US version is by Steve Stone).

This is the cover for Set the Seas on Fire by Chris Roberson (again, I couldn’t track down the artist). This is also quite good, if a bit….old-fashioned looking. But, this is entirely appropriate for the book – it really is more a historical fiction/alternative history book than standard SFF, which makes this historical image very apt. Yet again, I applaud the cover art used here.


Here is the cover art for forthcoming Pirate Freedom by Gene Wolfe – the cover artist is David Grove. I haven’t yet gotten my hands on the book, but the focus on a single character at the helm of a (presumably) pirate vessel seems appropriate with Wolfe being known for strong characterization. I’m really looking forward to this book, and the cover art underscores this anticipation.

I included the covert below to put add some perspective to where SFF cover art related to the high seas has been in the past. These covers by Steven Youll of Robin Hobb’s Liveship Traders Trilogy definitely fall into a more traditional fantasy cover form. As I’ve said previously, this style doesn’t do much for me, but these covers really aren't too bad (they are certainly drawn very well). some are better than others, but overall I'll give thme a pass. Another plus is that they are rather true to the books.

Mad Ship cover

Ship of Destiny cover.

Ship of Magic cover

Review: Set the Seas on Fire by Chris Roberson

Set the Seas on Fire by Chris Roberson harkens back to an age of exploration and wonder, where one could realistically dream of travel through a world unknown. Set during and just following the Napoleonic Wars, Roberson offers a historical fiction adventure that serves as a prequel to Paragaea: A Planetary Romance, while offering a worthwhile adventure all its own.

Lieutenant Hieronymus Bonaventure serves as second in command on the HMS Fortitude in the days of dominance of the British Empire. As the Fortitude sails the tropical Pacific, it encounters a Spanish Galleon, and the somewhat inept captain is determined to capture its cargo. During the battle, a formidable storm sweeps both ships off course and into uncharted waters. With limited supplies, the crippled Fortitude must seek out the unknown in order to survive – leading to the discovery of a paradise, and the darkness nearby.

The narrative is really a pretty simple tale of nineteenth-century adventure: naval battle, undiscovered island, first contact with natives living in paradise, exotic women, leave-takings, unnecessary battle against dark and unknown forces, pyrrhic victory and survival for some. This blunt breakdown of the story is not intended imply that it’s an uninteresting one, or that it’s not worth reading – it’s well told and gains strength as it progresses – but, it is just the frame. The filling is the afore-mentioned and aptly-named Hieronymus, deridingly known as Hero by a sarcastic midshipman.

Roberson shows the making of a special kind of person, a leader of men, a lover, an adventurer, a nineteenth-century Odysseus and the first half of his Odyssey. Through flashbacks we periodically visit the childhood and early manhood of Hieronymus, son of a scholar, dreaming of adventure, seeking and receiving the tutelage of an accomplished swordsman, who has lived his own life of adventure. Young Hieronymus contrasts with his older self, Lt. Bonaventure, having experienced some of that adventure in the service of duty for King and Country, yet somehow managing to not live life in the spirit of adventure he craved as a child. His excitement and education at the discovery of an island and its people are tempered as the implications are fully realized. He learns of love, cultural shock, and consequences – he glimpses his future from a shaman and doesn’t have the courage to stop the mistake he knows his captain will make.

Set the Seas on Fire is a fun and satisfying adventure through the South Seas. Most correctly shelved as historical fiction, fantastical elements are almost an afterthought where native myth comes alive, meeting the captain’s folly. While succeeding overall, a few minor issues gave me a bit of grief. In an effort at setting a nostalgic feel, Roberson uses the seeming old-fashioned language of the nineteenth century which I found difficult to get into at first, although, by mid-way through the book I didn’t notice it anymore. Some awkward pacing occurs do to the use of flashbacks as things slow down significantly. This is entirely intentional and appears to be an effort to take a step back, breath deeply and get to know Hieronymus a bit better before moving on. The success is a bit mixed, but aids to a building of anticipation and the desire to know what will come next.

As I’ve said above, Set the Seas on Fire is a highly enjoyable novel, good story, and great view of an interesting character. But, through it all, I’m left with the sense of missing something important. And that is precisely the case because while it stands well on its own, Set the Seas on Fire is a prequel, and it appears that the meat of the story, the second (and more interesting) half of the Odyssey, occurs in Paragaea, which I haven’t had the opportunity to read. So, while I can recommend Set the Seas on Fire as a fun nineteenth-century adventure, I think that it just might need Paragaea to truly complete it. 6.5-7/10