The Virtu
Sarah Monette

Labyrinthine.

Sorry, I just had to. As a single word to describe this book, it’s irresistible and perhaps inevitable. And not in terms of the obscure thaumaturgical theory and the calendar system, although that’s intricate in itself, but in terms of Felix and Mildmay, and this endless, twisted, complex little dance they do. They’re hopelessly interlocked to each other by love and blood and history, and to link it to the baseline metaphor, it’s like they’re both running around the same labyrinth trying to get out but neither of them willing to go through the heart.

Backing up a bit, I picked this up with the full intention of waiting to read Melusine first — couldn’t find the latter in any of my nearby bookstores, was going to try online or ordering — but I opened up to the scene where Mildmay is leading them through the Gauthy labyrinth, and his voice sucked me right in. (Actually, at first I wasn’t sure which gender he was, and I kind of thought he was a girl from the name — that meant a weird about-face when I got to Felix’s viewpoint.) I’m a sucker for voices, and Mildmay’s is idiosyncratic and rhythmic and very beautiful. Nothing against Felix, but throughout the book each time I would look forward to the resumption of Mildmay’s voice.

However, jumping into the middle of the things this way did mean I had to piece several things together in a patchwork fashion — Felix’s and Mildmay’s history, and I’m still not exactly sure why Mildmay ended up separated from them (Felix and Methony); the calendar system and how ‘septad’ seems to be used for hours and years interchangeably, although the fact that it’s pseudo-French helped a bit; and of course being limited to what Felix is willing to mention about his madness. That last actually kind of added to the experience — I’m just as clueless as Felix about what exactly Mavortian did. None of it really detracted, so I guess I’m mentioning it for solely egotistical purposes. Except for the fact that I still really want to find out their respective ages… I assumed they were about the same age for a while, but now it looks like Mildmay’s quite a bit younger, and that changes things. It really does become more little/big brother.

One of the things that really impressed me was the completeness of the world. It’s built from the ground up, which should be something that you find in every world but too often isn’t, but more than that, it doesn’t base anything too heavily on existing civilizations. No obviously pseudo-Viking or -Japanese civilizations, I mean. The pseudo-French doesn’t come in the context of pseudo-France, so I can ignore it. The point — since it’s all new, I enjoy each thing I learn about thaumaturgy, the Virtu’s magic, Mavortian’s cards, the dynastic history, the Titan Clocks, and, of course, the labyrinths. Also appreciated the attention to language barriers, for the time they’re outside Marathat.

But the real draw of the book is, yeah, Felix and Mildmay’s own little labyrinth. Felix’s poisonous beauty would be insufferable except for his desire for Mildmay, that he can’t have what he really wants, just like everyone else. And Mildmay, linked to Felix not just by love but by the fact that Felix knows who he really is, not just the scar and the thick accent, but his intelligence and ability to see everything, even if he doesn’t say anything about it.

Which brings to mind the question I came out of this book with… just how annemer is Mildmay? I mean, is there a way to be magical without being full-out hocus? Mildmay clearly doesn’t have the same power as the Cabalines, but he’s also got that weird finding-sense, and he can feel mikkary. Just seems strange that they’ve got half the same genes, and with Felix being so powerful, Mildmay having nothing.