Book Review: "Arca"

G.R. Macallister's new book is a searing and brutal and beautiful epic...with some fantastically conceived villains.

Warning: Many spoilers for the novel follow.

I was blown away by Scorpica, the first book in G.R. Macallister’s “The Five Queendoms” series. It combined an intriguing premise–it takes place in a world in which five matriarchies exist in a fragile state of peace that is disrupted by a phenomenon known as the Drought of Girls, in which no female children are born–with complex plotting, richly-drawn characters (not all of whom were likable), and a titanic conflict between good and evil. Now Macallister returns us to this world with Arca.  

Arca does one of the things I love most in epic fantasy. It takes us beyond the point of the happy ending to show us what comes after. The Drought of Girls has ended, but this doesn’t mean that all will return to normal in the Five Kingdoms. In fact, all of the characters have to contend, one way or another, with the consequences of this world-shattering event. The novel primarily deals with the political and magical conflicts that convulse the kingdoms of Arca, Paxim, and Scorpica, even as a greater threat hovers in the background. As she did in the first novel, Macallister excels at showing us the extraordinary lengths to which her various characters will go as they struggle for survival in a world that has grown increasingly uncertain and destabilized in the aftermath of the Drought. 

And, just as importantly, she doesn’t shy away from showing us the darker, more sinister side of her characters. In fact, I don’t think it’s going too far to say that what sets her apart as a fantasist is her ability to draw us into the twisted and dark psychologies of some very villainous people. Like George RR Martin, who has also made it a point to create compelling antiheroes and, while there are many times when these individuals are reprehensible and sometimes downright unlikable, we can’t help but be riveted by them and their actions. 

Foremost among these is Stellari, one of those who serves in the senate of the realm of Paxim. From the very first chapter, it’s clear that Stellari is a sort of Richard III type figure, someone who is willing to murder and scheme her way to the top of the political hierarchy. Even the queen isn’t immune from her efforts, and she manages to manipulate the monarch’s gullible hairdresser into slowly poisoning her. It’s easy to condemn her for her ruthlessness and her self-serving attitude, but one also can’t help but admire the way that pulls the levers of power so that they work to her advantage. Nor does the novel go out of its way to humanize or soften her sharp edges; if anything, it heightens them. She looks at her lover and her child the same way she looks at everything else, as tools to be used when it’s useful for her to do so. She may not have the same sort of nefarious monologues as her Shakesepearen predecessor, but Arca nevertheless makes us feel more than a little complicit in her actions. 

This isn’t to say that there aren’t characters in this novel who deserve our sympathy and respect. Ama, though born in among the Scorpicae, has lived a life unmoored yet finds purpose, serving as a bodyguard to the young kingling Paulus, whose mother Queen Heliane intends him to take her throne after her death,despite the threat this poses to centuries of tradition. Yet Ama’s life, like so many of the other characters’, is marred by tragedy, for her beloved Paulus falls in battle with the Scorpicae, his death yet another indication that heroism in this world is often as dangerous as it is valorous.

This willingness to dispense with even main characters–Paulus has several chapters devoted to his point of view–is also another point of commonality with George RR Martin. There’s a remarkable lack of sentiment in Arca (which was also true of the first book), and though some might find this a bit off-putting, since none of the characters are likable, per se, I actually think this is quite brave on Macallister’s part. The Five Queendoms aren’t some sort of feminist utopia where all armed conflict and political strife is put aside. Indeed, the end of the Drought of Girls brings with its own set of problems, even aside from the fact that there are powerful gods who are angling for their own influence on this world. 

In this respect, the chapters devoted to the point of view of Eminel are some of the most fascinating, and her story is in many ways a mirror reflection of Ama’s. Like the Scorpican woman, she has been torn from everything she ever knew, elevated to be queen of Arca, and endowed with extraordinary magical powers. However, as with so many epic heroines before her, she soon finds these powers to be a double-edged sword and, though she grows to be a powerful sorcerer and a very canny ruler, she still finds herself the pawn of a goddess whose motivations remain obscure (at least until the end).

And speaking of that ending!. I think we all knew it was too good to be true that Sessadon, the powerful sorceress who was the primary antagonist of the first novel, was truly gone for good, and so it proves to be. In the novel’s final chapter, we watch along with Dree–a slain member of the Scorpicae, now nothing more than a shade–as she watches the final plan becomes clear. Sessadon has sealed a bargain with none other than the goddess of death herself, and the two of them plan to break open the gates that keep the shades of the dead imprisoned in the Underlands. 

Arca builds on the many strengths of its predecessor to give us a world that’s even more fully-fleshed out and complex than we thought. What’s more, I appreciated the fact that this entry opened up a space for trans and ace and nonbinary characters to exist. Though the genre of epic fantasy has recently begun to expand its horizons in this regard, writers like Macallister are definitely in the vanguard.

One thing’s for sure. I can’t wait to see what lies in store for the Five Queendoms!