Swordheart (T. Kingfisher)

Swordheart
T. Kingfisher
Red Wombat Studio
Fiction, Fantasy/Humor/Romance
*** (Okay)

DESCRIPTION: A widow in her thirties, despised by her in-laws (mostly for not getting a child by her short-lived husband, making her a worthless burden as far as they're concerned), Halla had minimal expectations in life, especially when the only one who would take her in was eccentric old Uncle Silas. Now that he has passed, she expects to be cast out in the street - but the man left her his fortune and his house full of oddities. Suddenly, shrewish old Aunt Malva and her spineless son Alver, who had no use for her before, find they do, indeed, have a purpose in mind: marry her to Alver, then kill or incapacitate her while they take control of the inheritance. Halla's objections get her locked in her room until she "sees reason" (or until they can get her declared too feeble-minded to make her own decisions). She sees no way out of the predicament save taking her own life - but the old sword she grabs, part of the late Silas's clutter, has other plans...
Centuries ago, mercenary Sarkis was cursed into the steel after a terrible defeat. Ever since, he is bound to serve the sword's master, following it from hand to hand through the years. Be they good or evil, Sarkis has no choice. Even death cannot release him; a fortnight later, when the blade is drawn, he reappears, healed in body if not necessarily in spirit. When he finds himself summoned to the waking world once again, he expects to find battle, or a warlord. He does not expect a tearful, desperate woman about to be married off against her will. This is, perhaps, the most ignoble waste of his talents he's ever been forced to endure, but rules are rules: she drew his sword, so she is, for all intents and purposes, his master, and he is bound to help.
Halla has never met anyone like Sarkis, and vice versa. After their inauspicious meeting and escape, they set out to find help from the Temple of the White Rat, which specializes in untangling thorny knots like the one she finds herself in... a journey with numerous dangers, from followers of a fanatic god to bandits. The greatest danger, though, may come from within, two wounded hearts who may not recognize their chance until it's too late.

REVIEW: Though technically part of a larger world, I read (or listened to, rather) it as a standalone. Maybe that was part of the problem, but I doubt it, because my issues with the book have very little to do with the worldbuilding, a passably interesting fantasy land with the usual pseudo-medieval aesthetics, a handful of gods and goddesses in uneasy coexistence (particularly in relation to the fanatical followers of the "Hanged Mother"), and magic and mystery around the edges. Nor was it necessarily with the main story arc, which - when it didn't bog itself down in somewhat silly diversions, not helped by Halla's tendency to babble and do, frankly, stupid things for the sake of doing stupid things - was also interesting enough to keep me reading (or listening).
What cut a full fourth star from the rating was the romance angle, particularly the beyond-stale, well-into-fossilized cliche of a woman having to be romantically and sexually naive so her True Love in some way owns her pleasure and satisfaction, being the only one to induce either. Even when the woman is a widow, it's emphasized how uninterested her late husband was in matters romantic or carnal, how little she actually cared about him, because apparently there is only ever one person a body can ever truly love. (Some books go so far as to make said woman childish in appearance, too, just to drive home the creep factor with the older male love interest introducing her to sex; fortunately, that wasn't the case here, even if Halla is almost impossibly sheltered and naive about people in general to the point where she often behaves with a childish guilelessness.) She's also supposed to be smarter than her demeanor lets on, her off-putting streams of questions a form of camouflage to get people to dismiss and ignore her (instead of bullying or hurting her), but to be honest that silly/stupid demeanor runs far deeper than it ought to for a grown woman. As for Sarkis, he's a gruff, grizzled, put-upon soldier, worn down by unwanted immortality and service through the centuries, often to less than pleasant masters. He finds himself drawn to Halla, the first person to treat him as a human rather than a tool in far too long... and despite the fact that she could make a career out of blundering into danger, to the point where one honestly wonders how she made it to her third decade with all her limbs. But he's also hiding a secret that could threaten everything... one that, naturally, doesn't come out until The Wrong Time to trigger the low point of despair before the climax. I was grinding my teeth in annoyance with both of them at this point; so much of the angst between them could have been resolved if they just opened their mouths for something other than a silly question. It also feels like it wants a sequel, but there appears to be no sign of one.
Between my annoyance at the romance dithering and Kingfisher's overuse of Halla's babbling (and Sarkis's irritation with said babbling, which lost its humor early on and just made me wish I could fast-forward to when the plot moved again), Swordheart fell to a bland three-star Okay rating, which is a shame because I liked some of the secondary characters and the world, and the rest of the tale could've easily carried four stars. I'm on the fence about reading on in this world, unless I can get some assurance that the parts I found annoying aren't replicated.

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