Prince Rodrigo, heir to the throne of Caledon, is an irredeemable brat. Foul-tempered, arrogant, and spoiled, it is a wonder that even his mother, the queen, can put up with him. Roddy sees little reason to pay attention to the opinions of others, especially those who urge him to cultivate the skills necessary to be king. Why should he care? His inheritance of the throne was assured the moment he was born, and nothing can change that. But, inevitably, something does.
Roddy is still a teenager--ignorant and ill-prepared to rule--when queen Elena's sudden death throws Caledon into Chaos. Before Roddy knows what's happened, his scheming uncle Margenthar has captured one of Roddy's brothers, driven the other into hiding, and installed himself as regent. Worse still, Lord Tantroth of neighbouring Eiber, takes advantage of the chaos and disunity to invade and lay siege to the Caledon's capital.
Fleeing both Mar and Tantroth, Roddy knows that his only hope to reclaim his kingdom and save the lives of his brothers is to wield the Still, the ancient Power of Caledon. Unfortunately, Roddy never paid much attention to mother's lessons about the Still: he hasn't a clue what it is or how to wield it. Even if he did, the Vessels he needs to wield it lie in the castle with uncle Mar, under Eiberian siege. And even if he could get to the Vessels, Roddy must still be crowned king in order to wield the Still. And so, with a small band of allies--his brother Elryc and their nurse, Hester, his best friend, Rust, and a handful of loyal servants--Roddy journeys frantically, secretively from house to noble house of Caledon, making whatever deals he must to secure Council votes. Time is short: if Roddy isn't crowned soon, his country will fall and all those he loves will be put to death.
A Not Unconventional Fantasy
There is a quote from Peter Heck of Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine on the back of my edition of The Still which reads "A complex, unconventional fantasy from a writer who isn't afraid to take risks." I wondered when I read that what "unconventional" was intended to mean. Fantasy is a genre that, more often than not, relies on conventions to be successful. The same is true of most speculative fiction. The conventions on which popular modern fantasy novels rely are broadly those of romantic literature, and are easy to describe. The relevant ones in the case of The Still include: the plucky but naive young hero who possesses an untapped potential to rescue his entire country (or people, or world, or galaxy, or what-have-you), the more mature mentor-type who helps the hero along, the pitched battle between Good and Evil, the evil arch-nemesis who plots the hero's downfall and threatens whatever it is he is trying to save, and so on. To say that a fantasy story is unconventional is to condemn it to almost certain popular (and therefore commercial) failure. People like their fantasies conventional, and there's nothing at all wrong with that. The skill of most authors of great speculative fiction lies not in their avoidance of conventions, but in their skillful use of them. In such hands, the conventions are made fresh, vitally reincarnated. Unskillful authors regurgitate the conventions drably, redressing them ad nausem in the same tired clothes.
In the sense I have just described, The Still is a deeply conventional novel. Its appearance of unconventionality derives from the different clothes in which Feintuch dresses the conventions. The traditional (not necessarily conventional) heterosexual romance is here replaced by a homosexual one between Roddy and Rust. The wielding of the conventional mysterious supernatural power is here delayed until nearly the end of the novel (but it is present). In these and other cases, Feintuch does a better-than-average job of manipulating and redressing the conventions to good effect. I have to agree with several of the praiseful quotes on the introductory pages: I did find The Still "Impossible to put down" (Philadelphia Weekly Press), and it was "Wonderful reading and nonstop enjoyment" (Raymond E. Feist). The fast-paced action of The Still made it difficult to put down: to Feintuch's credit, The Still kept me up after bedtime and made me late for work more than once.
Still, there are faults. While I laud Feintuch for taking a risk and making the book's central romance a gay one, I object to the way it was excuted. It is made clear at several points that Roddy is straight and Rust is bisexual. Roddy would dearly love to find a girl to cozy up to but, by a peculiar quirk of the author's choosing, must remain a virgin in order to use the Still. Rust--who turns out to be Roddy's mentor figure--initiates the relationship between them, under the pretext of just helping to alleviate Roddy's sexual tension. Over time, Rust falls quite deeply in love with Roddy. He is a devoted and affectionate but ultimately long-suffering lover. Roddy resents the necessity of his virginity (apparently gay sex doesn't offend the Still) and often expresses revulsion toward his sexual relationship with Rust. Where Rust is proud of his love for Roddy, Roddy is ashamed and steadfastly heteronormative in his opinions: homosexuality is unmanly, unseemly, and strictly temporary. At nearly every opportunity, he devalues his romance with Rust and seeks to keep it secret. Roddy has a gay uncle, who is portrayed as a good-hearted but manipulative sissy. His lover is far less pleasant than even that.
There's nothing all that unrealistic about the gay relationships in The Still: I'm sure people have these kinds of terrible relationships. It is their preponderence that grates. Why must all the people in same-sex relationships suffer so at each others' hands, despite the apparent acceptance of their society? The many tender scenes between Roddy and Rust make Roddy's otherwise stridently heteronormative behaviour seem incongruous.
My criticism is partly born of my desire for this story to be more than it is, for it to be the great gay love story it could have been. I will definitely keep my eye on David Feintuch in hopeful anticipation. Accepting that it's not that story, it's nonetheless an above average, skillfully conventional fantasy adventure.