The Mountain of Kept Memory Is High Fantasy Worth Remembering
A genre, in its simplest form, is an amalgamation of time-tested tropes, trusted throughout the ages to deliver a good story, time and again. As a genre matures, these traits endure on a macro level, with sophistication bubbling up via the subversion of long-accepted narratives. Or at least, that’s the textbook explanation. On a practical level, you can see this evolution in books like Rachel Neumeier’s The Mountain of Kept Memory, a pure high fantasy with a hint of modern edge.
On the surface, we have all the typical elements of epic fantasy: a kingdom in trouble, foreign enemies on all sides, magical relics, and a goddess with more to tell. But the knot of young people at the heart of the plot—a trio of princes and a princess—have distinctly modern voices, and a mindset of measured practicality when it comes completing their various quests (no innocent farm boys here).
The Mountain of Kept Memory
Hardcover $25.99
The Mountain of Kept Memory
Hardcover $25.99
Neumeier is an accomplished hand at YA science fiction and fantasy, and she brings some of that style to this “traditional” fantasy effort. Those young royals carry themselves with an air of modernity and speak with a distinctively contemporary, no-nonsense banter. The approach lends a sense of airiness and levity to the proceedings, even as the question of just who is on what side becomes more complex. These are young people responding to conflicts above their pay grade; their speech indicates the naïveté they should possess by rights.
At the center of these many conflicts is the kingdom of Carastind, rebounding from plague and besieged by enemies from across the sea. It’s your typical fantasy realm, helmed by an aging, rigid king, whose progeny show far more promise when it comes to steady leadership. Worried about invasion by a flotilla of dueling Tamaristan princes, Gulien Madalin, heir to the Carastind throne, grasps at straws to save his people.
The natural ally, the one who always has provided, is the Kieba, a goddess whose mountain rises up on the precipice of Carastind. There she dwells, and from that perch, historically, she has protected the world from disease and disaster. The operative word there is “historically.”
It seems Gulien’s father, the king of Carastind, has offended the goddess, and she has subsequently forsaken their cause. And the news has gotten around. The invasion forces on Carastind’s doorstep suspect the Kieba has removed herself from the narrative, and they’re more than willing to press their luck.
Remedying this situation does not rest solely on Gulien’s shoulders. His younger sister Oressa has as much to say about the fate of the kingdom as he does, and she’ll be key in unraveling the mystery of the wronged goddess. Hellbent on thwarting her father’s planned olive branch—her marriage to an enemy prince—Oressa provides a spirited, unpredictable yin to her brother’s solemn, dutiful yang.
That enemy prince, whose forces have launched an offensive on Carastind and whose hand Oressa is supposedly intended to take, isn’t easily categorizable as an enemy. Devilishly clever and quietly charming, Prince Gajdosik is the third and final piece to the puzzle at the heart of the Kieba’s mountain. His future is as much at stake as the heirs to the Madalin line.
The narrative journey of The Mountain of Kept Memory, littered with war golems and competing loyalties, is enjoyable, painting a familiar picture with a newer brush, hiding intricacies in the broad brush strokes for those who look closely (there’s a question, for instance, of how much of this is fantasy, and how much is science fiction). Moreover, the protagonists, and even the assorted secondary characters, are all likable, even as they are opposed. In the age of the anti-hero, that’s as refreshing a change of pace as any.
The Mountain of Kept Memory is available now.
Neumeier is an accomplished hand at YA science fiction and fantasy, and she brings some of that style to this “traditional” fantasy effort. Those young royals carry themselves with an air of modernity and speak with a distinctively contemporary, no-nonsense banter. The approach lends a sense of airiness and levity to the proceedings, even as the question of just who is on what side becomes more complex. These are young people responding to conflicts above their pay grade; their speech indicates the naïveté they should possess by rights.
At the center of these many conflicts is the kingdom of Carastind, rebounding from plague and besieged by enemies from across the sea. It’s your typical fantasy realm, helmed by an aging, rigid king, whose progeny show far more promise when it comes to steady leadership. Worried about invasion by a flotilla of dueling Tamaristan princes, Gulien Madalin, heir to the Carastind throne, grasps at straws to save his people.
The natural ally, the one who always has provided, is the Kieba, a goddess whose mountain rises up on the precipice of Carastind. There she dwells, and from that perch, historically, she has protected the world from disease and disaster. The operative word there is “historically.”
It seems Gulien’s father, the king of Carastind, has offended the goddess, and she has subsequently forsaken their cause. And the news has gotten around. The invasion forces on Carastind’s doorstep suspect the Kieba has removed herself from the narrative, and they’re more than willing to press their luck.
Remedying this situation does not rest solely on Gulien’s shoulders. His younger sister Oressa has as much to say about the fate of the kingdom as he does, and she’ll be key in unraveling the mystery of the wronged goddess. Hellbent on thwarting her father’s planned olive branch—her marriage to an enemy prince—Oressa provides a spirited, unpredictable yin to her brother’s solemn, dutiful yang.
That enemy prince, whose forces have launched an offensive on Carastind and whose hand Oressa is supposedly intended to take, isn’t easily categorizable as an enemy. Devilishly clever and quietly charming, Prince Gajdosik is the third and final piece to the puzzle at the heart of the Kieba’s mountain. His future is as much at stake as the heirs to the Madalin line.
The narrative journey of The Mountain of Kept Memory, littered with war golems and competing loyalties, is enjoyable, painting a familiar picture with a newer brush, hiding intricacies in the broad brush strokes for those who look closely (there’s a question, for instance, of how much of this is fantasy, and how much is science fiction). Moreover, the protagonists, and even the assorted secondary characters, are all likable, even as they are opposed. In the age of the anti-hero, that’s as refreshing a change of pace as any.
The Mountain of Kept Memory is available now.