The Spider’s War Completes an Epic Fantasy Series for the Ages

Abraham is not only notable for writing thoughtful, politically-engaged narratives that double as riveting epic fantasies, but for the fact that he publishes multiple novels every year—he’s half of the pseudonymous James S.A. Corey, whose science fiction novel series, The Expanse, recently made its television debut. Along the way, he also wrote a rich, five-book-thick thick epic fantasy in as many years. The Spider’s War is the riveting conclusion to The Dagger and the Coin series, and it’s everything a reader could ask for.
What makes the series, and The Spider’s War in particular, special isn’t what’s blurbed on the back. You’d be forgiven if you mistook it for a run-of-the-mill epic fantasy, incorporating everything you’ve come to expect in a post-Tolkien, post-Dungeons & Dragons fantasy: rogue priests, soul-sucking swords, roving armies, political betrayal, humanoid races, and even a dragon. But it’s so, so much more than that. In an interview with Clarkesworld Magazine before the release of the first volume, Abraham explained his motivation for writing what appears to be a traditional epic fantasy. “What is fantasy?” he pondered. “How do you play to its strengths? How do you make it accessible without making it trite?”

To answer these questions, Abraham gathered together several friends who know a thing or two about swords and sorcery—including George R.R. Martin—and held a private, off-the-record symposium to examine the elements that make the genre what it is. Abraham has said those discussions will remain private (that was part of the deal), but The Dagger and the Coin has all the answers. The Spider’s War isn’t just a conclusion to the series, it’s Abraham’s closing statement on his five-year cross examination of epic fantasy. And the book does provide those answers—particularly those concerning the genre’s obsession with war as a central conflict—quite directly, as Kit, an apostate priest-turned-actor, examines his troupe’s performance of a fictional play called The Ash and the Pomegranate:
Love, I believe, is a small thing that feels large. I find that feelings might overwhelm, but the action is between a handful of people. War, by comparison, seems to me so large, and happens so differently to so many people, that capturing it in a tale leaves me with the sense that I’ve simplified it so much that it no longer resembles the thing it depicts. The best I’ve managed is a story about people while a war goes on around them, but I think that isn’t the same?
And again, in a further conversation between Kit and Marcus Wester, a mercenary captain who’s one of the series’ central protagonists:
Thoughtfulness and kindness and love, I contend, are so much the way we expect the world to be that they become as invisible as air. We only see war and violence and hatred as something happening, I suggest, because that stand out as aberrations. In my experience, even in the midst of war, many lives are untouched by battle. And even in a life of conflict, violence is outweighed by its absence.

The Spider’s War showcases Abraham’s measured storytelling methods, his reliance on his characters’ labyrinthine emotions and relationships. Through them, he reveals the horrors and intricacies of war not by focusing on the blood and guts, but by framing it through the physical and emotional prices paid by those involved. But, as is slowly revealed, war is not only a tragedy, but a stage for opportunity—to become a new person, to seize power, to lay ghosts to rest. To change the world.
As a conclusion, it’s a tremendously satisfying book, not because it ends with a visceral, blood-pounding action sequence, but because, over five volumes, readers have come to care deeply for the cast of characters, each of whom must find their place in a society undergoing seismic changes. Epic fantasy can often be aggressive, relying on life-or-death stakes and physical violence to create dramatic tension. Abraham leans on compassion and emotional conflict. The quietest scenes, sometimes comprised of little more than two characters ruminating in the depths of night, are the most resonant.

More than those in any other epic I can think of, even Lord of the Rings (which I’ve read a million times) or Harry Potter (which feels as real to me as my own memories of high school), the characters in The Spider’s War are so well-drawn and vibrant, it comes across less as a fictional account of a war in an imaginary world, and more as a fireside reminiscence among friends. The ostensible villain, Geder, in particular, is stunningly well drawn—one of fantasy’s finest tragic anti-heroes—but it’s also important to recognize how important the journeys of Cithrin and Clara, two very strong and very different women, are to the series’ overall plot and emotional arc. Each step of the way,we feel their victories and defeats, many of which come at great personal cost.
Nobody’s perfect. Even the great dragon, a constant analogue of might in epic fantasy, is flawed and damaged. The Spider’s War is very much a book about discovering one’s self, understanding the difference between truth and belief, perception and understanding. Each character comes away changed, and it’s impossible not to care deeply for them, as we’ve taken every step of the journey alongside them—even the most despicable character has crystalline moments of clarity, moments in which we can see right through them, generating, perhaps not empathy, but understanding.

During a recent Reddit r/fantasy AMA, a reader asked Abraham if this book marks the end of the world of The Dagger and the Coin. “There’s room for more,” he replied. “I don’t feel like I smoked [it] down to the filter the way I did with the Long Price books. But I’m not sure what more I have to say about epic fantasy right now.” So what does The Spider’s War ultimately say about epic fantasy? That it’s vast and complicated, but despite that, the interpersonal stories—stories about survival and adaptation—are must be the true driving force. That people are ultimately good, or at least act with good intentions, even when they’re tyrants. But also that there is no end to conflict—no Utopia waiting around the corner.
The Spider’s War succeeds as both a satisfying conclusion to the narrative begun in The Dragon’s Path, and a scalpel-precise dissection of epic fantasy. Examining war and other well-worn tropes through a unique lens, Abraham weaves an engaging narrative while also analyzing the thematic and structural pillars of the genre. Readers bred on Brandon Sanderson’s intricate magic systems or George R.R. Martin’s ruthlessness might be surprised by its measured pace and philosophical underpinnings, but from beginning to end, The Dagger and the Coin is impossible to put down, and one of modern epic fantasy’s crowning achievements.