Reflection's Edge

Book Review: Lord Tophet, by Gregory Frost

Reviewer: Matt Switliski

Daughter of the legendary performer Bardsham, Leodora has been visited by the gods, gifted with a riddle-speaking pendant that seems to have the answers to her every question, either voiced or unspoken. She, along with her other troupe members Soter and Diverus, finds herself in Colemaigne, a place once ruined because of her family now made anew following her encounter with the gods. As she performs, she draws the gaze of Lord Tophet, who sends agents intent on ending her story permanently.

Giving the protagonist the role of storyteller is a common trope in fantasy, so much so that it borders on cliché. It requires a fresh approach to avoid the well-worn paths of other authors and to make readers take notice. Gregory Frost accomplishes both these feats in Lord Tophet, the latter half of his duology begun with Shadowbridge earlier this year. Moreover, he probes into our peculiarly human tradition of telling stories – its flexibility, its nature, its power.

Although Leodora has a band of killers on her trail, the plot lacks any impending sense of danger; instead, the novel meanders as the characters travel around Colemaigne, collecting stories and having chance encounters that leave them with cryptic clues and further mysteries. That’s not to say the plot is weak, just less focused than the cover copy would lead you to believe.

Fortunately, Frost is a strong writer. Even while taking detours, he still manages to involve you in the book’s events. His prose is smooth, seamless, almost transparent if not for occasional of ornamentation - a particularly lush description, a sly turn of phrase - scattered throughout. The characters never come to life as fully as you might hope; Leodora’s self-proclaimed greed in wanting to know every story or Soter’s affinity for alcohol present problems only rarely, making those qualities seem quirks instead of actual flaws. Still, the cast does possess enough dimensionality that the story never suffers from wooden performances.

Where Frost’s originality becomes apparent is the world he’s created. The majority of the novel is spent on Colemaigne, but even so, we’re afforded glimpses of other spans, each with distinct personalities – the barren expanse of Lord Tophet’s realm, the idyllic dream-state of Epama Epam. There is more of Shadowbridge unexplored than not, but even so, it’s easy to imagine the world is mapped out and lies there, at the periphery of the book’s – and our – vision.

More believable than the world itself is the framework of stories within the story, the mythology, that lies behind it. Written as they are, the stories don’t feel real in the sense that they actually happened but that they exist as the artifacts of another culture. That may have something to do with Frost’s ability to pinpoint and utilize elements common to many shared stories, like trickster figures and applicable life lessons; he can also affect the cadence of a round-the-fire storyteller with such skill, he makes it look easy.

In light of all that, the book’s not for everyone. Lord Tophet doesn’t have any epic carnage, sultry vampires, or the denizens typical to fantasy; instead, the novel features a unique world that makes much use of its theatrical backdrop to comment on the importance of story in life. For readers willing to try something different or ones who can’t resist the appeal of metafiction, Lord Tophet is a fine tale that delivers on Shadowbridge’s promise.

To buy a copy of this book, click here.

If you liked this book, check out:

The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss

The Born Queen, by Greg Keyes

Maledicte, by Lane Robins