Hawkwood and the Kings Book

4.5 stars. *No spoilers. I drafted this review while reading both omnibuses*

Well, wow, where to start? I read the whole series straight and it was everything I could ask for in a fantasy tale: seafaring, battles in different terrains, much court intrigue, world-changing stakes, a brutal medieval Europe/Middle-East-ish setting and a good cast of characters involved in several intersecting storylines. There are lots of military minutiae, which I've a penchant for, not to mention some remarkable women, all finding agency within the limits of their societies and rank (no improbable girls in chainmail, basically) and all unique: I cheered for some and despised none. Same goes for the male protagonists who are all sporting the kind of grey morality I prefer in my adult epics: I couldn't root for any of them unconditionally but I liked that they were striving for something without blind stupidity.

There are no particular twists as the tale and all major plot threads unfold and yet the ensemble result is very engrossing, flowing with a steady pace even during the more lulling moments. I immersed in the story and kept up with the nuances without trying too hard, but at the same time I wasn't led by the hand and I always appreciate this kind of balance in my books.

For full disclosure, I was able to read several hours a day and I'm sure continuity contributed to the positive experience. For the most part the tale is well-planned, full of beautiful descriptions, and the minor qualms I had did not mar the overall enjoyment, because I could easily overlook some scarcely examined subplot lines or a few simplistic resolutions, or even a bit of Gary-stuism, considering the quality of the work.

However the last book of the Monarchies of God is not up to par: what started as the author not shying away from killing his characters progressively became a death spree, sometimes to raise the tension ofttimes for narrative expediency and this particular resolving plot device is not my favorite way to wrap things up. Also, in the last part the story loses some momentum and the narrative favors telling over showing unlike the previous installments; it is still good but less inspired.
I ended up rating the second omnibus of the series 4 stars but Ships from the West alone was barely a three. What really irked is the demise-domino effect because really, while knowing nobody is safe usually keeps me on the edge of my seat, what happened was a touch overdone.

Back to the good (and there's plenty), I also appreciated that the novels combine familiar historical elements (Columbus' voyages, Europe's geography and society, the Muslim-Christian conflict etc.) with fantasy and alternate history events. From the ground of my profane sensibilities -and I hope I'll never face such violence in my life- I feel the author managed to capture the never-ending horror of war, on both sea and land, not only throughout a series of ghastly images, but through the anticipation, the foreboding, the feeling of endless despair mingled with scant hope and all too real humanity (I know I'm biased, but the destruction of the Inceptine library was chilling to the core. Because books. There is also a brutal gang-rape episode, be warned).
I really loved his care for details, down to the fact that a warhorse is not trained in a day and hardtack becomes home to weevils after a while.

On the whole it was a wonderful journey; and better, I devoured the books: in spite of heavy authorial thumb stamping the ending, I truly enjoyed this complex, adult fantasy series and I would particularly recommend it to seafaring/military fantasy fans. I'll make sure to read more by Kearney.


The company built their fires despite the fact that the sweat was dripping off their very fingertips. They needed the light, the reassurance that their comrades were around them. The fires had a claustrophobic effect, however, making the towers of the trees press ever closer in on them, emphasizing the huge, restless jungle which pursued its own arcane business off in the darkness as it had for eons before them. They were mere nomadic parasites lost in the pelt of a creature which was as big as a turning world. That night they were not afraid of unknown beasts or strange natives, but of the land itself, for it seemed to pulse and murmur with a beating life of its own, alien, unknowable, and utterly indifferent to them.