et nearly 30 years after the events of Snowfall (2002), Mitchell Smith's new book illustrates the thesis that the sphere of an expanding civilization does not preclude the mortal dangers faced by barbarians, but only makes the threats more sophisticated.
Sam Monroe, an infant at the end of the first book, is now the head general and de facto ruler of a small, threatened kingdom in a world gripped by a new ice age. Sam's lands occupy what used to be northern Mexico and some of the old United States Southwest. To his south is the lazy and indolent yet wealthy Empire, Hispanic and Native American in composition. Centered around the Mississippi is the Middle Kingdom, a land ruled by Queen Joan, once friends with Sam's dead adoptive mother. Further north is New England, home to eldritch people with psionic powers, who breed monsters in a kind of telekinetic genetic engineering. Loose families of Trappers—Sam's own ancestors—range across the furthest north. All represent either allies or enemies of Sam and his people. But most troublesome of all are the Toghrul Khan and his hordes. Having crossed from Siberia into Alaska, the fierce, savage horsemen now dominate a huge portion of the old United States, from the West Coast to Texas. And Toghrul, a military genius, wants Sam's lands and the Middle Kingdom as well.
Luckily for Sam, he does not stand alone against these threats. His staff of generals and advisers are all capable, brave and intelligent—moreover, they are loyal friends. With their help, Sam will rise from the defeat that opens the book, attaining unheard-of victories. As the Khan sends some forces south to probe North Mexico, Sam orders a daring raid around the Khan's flanks into Texas. This raid a success, Sam sets his sights higher. An invitation to visit Queen Joan and her daughter Rachel brings Sam and some of his staff to the artificial Island that is the Middle Kingdom's heart. Soon, Sam and Joan have reached an uneasy alliance, and the final armageddon among the three armies is inevitable. Sam stands a good chance of triumphing (yet not without hideous costs)—but whether he can win Rachel's heart is another matter.
A tough man tested by tough times
The middle book in the projected Snowfall trilogy, Kingdom River stands foursquare on its own merits, requiring no prior knowledge from readers and ending with satisfying conclusiveness. Of course, the fans of Smith's first book will appreciate the new developments all the more. Thirty years have brought somewhat more orderliness and security and wealth to the human civilization still struggling to deal with the resurgent ice that killed the "Warm Times." Whereas the first book was more of a Viking saga replete with dire destinies and primeval urges—a Jack-London-style tale of how a harsh environment molds men and their customs—this new book is rather Shakespearean in tone. Here we follow a cast of sophisticated characters beset by their inherent flaws and uplifted by their innate virtues, introspective and moved by larger ideals than simple day-to-day survival (though that impulse looms large as well). There will be plenty of tragedy and some offsetting humor, earthy exigencies giving way to ruminative moments and exchanges of confidences.
Smith's main interest—aside of course from propelling a fascinating narrative full of complex military campaigns (the battle with skating ships on a frozen river is only the most magnificent set piece of the book), court intrigue and general adventuring—seems to be in comparing and contrasting the two different ruling styles of Toghrul and Sam, two men almost the same age. The former is authoritarian, feared and haughty, while the latter is democratic (when the situation allows), beloved and down to earth. As Smith jumps from one camp to another, he builds contrasting portraits of the two rulers (with Queen Joan's half-mad monarchical style a third alternative) which show that the same brutal environment can produce radically disparate responses. Nurture and heritage trump nature.
Meanwhile, Smith does not neglect to show us vividly the weird ways humanity has responded to the new ice age, from beliefs in multiple versions of Jesus to their misinterpretation of old books to the arcane flight powers of the New Englanders (one of whom, Patience, is present in Sam's army as an ambassador). He builds a culture that rings changes on such classics post-apocalyptic scenarios as Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz (1960) and Kuttner's Mutant (1953).
Two keys to the success of this book are Smith's full-bore sensory attack and the strength of his supporting cast. His prose is continually concerned with immersing us in the physical details of this world. For instance: "The captain's cabin, arrived at through odors of sawn wood, paint, damp canvas, and old sweat, was reached by a dim, narrow passage, then up a steep and even narrower stair." This is a level of careful detail that guarantees a rich reading experience. As for the secondary players, consider just Queen Joan's weapons master, Butter-boy, and his newest pupil, country girl Martha. Their scenes are given as much weight as those between Sam and Joan, insuring they emerge brightly and serve as foils for the larger players.
I suspect that Sam's future will involve the New Englanders—Patience has not gotten enough of a workout yet, and she seems more foreshadowy than otherwise—and it will certainly be interesting to see if Sam's nobility and straightforwardness can withstand what amounts to wizardry—always the bane of warriors throughout literature.
