The Builders by Daniel
Polansky
From the summary on Amazon:
A
missing eye.
A
broken wing.
A
stolen country.
The
last job didn't end well.
Years
go by, and scars fade, but memories only fester. For the animals of the
Captain's company, survival has meant keeping a low profile, building a new life,
and trying to forget the war they lost. But now the Captain's whiskers are
twitching at the idea of evening the score
‘Well, that wasn’t what I was
expecting’
This was a phrase that I
continuously said to myself while reading through the strange and violent tale
of The Builders. When I had picked it
up I assumed, both from the cover as well as from the various accolades
comparing the book to Brian Jacques and Watership
Down, that I was going to be in for a good old fantasy animal adventure.
What I found instead was a sea of violence, death, betrayal, and a style that
felt closer to Beowulf than it did to any of Brian Jacques works.
It’s difficult to talk too much
about this book without spoiling a number of things, so I will at least give my
spoiler-free impressions first here: The
Builders is an excellent story that is written in the style of a legend,
with plot twists and many violent ends, this is a book for mature readers
through and through. It’s fantastic anthropomorphic fiction, playing with many
of the stereotypes that the animals involved are known for, and yet treating
them as parts of the characters rather than one-note traits or jokes. Although
it’s a little short and moves at a breakneck pace, I never felt deprived of
characterization. It has a single, brutal story to tell and it does so with
great efficiency. I must say, however, that a great many of the characters are
very unlikable creatures and there’s not an innocent soul in the book, so it
can make it very hard to personally have empathy for any of the cast. I’d
definitely recommend it to fans of classic anthropomorphic literature and fans
of western legends like Beowulf or North American tall tales.
 |
| ... What? When I think of tall tales, I think of s'mores around the campfire. Don't you? |
Now, for a bit of a deeper look, I
might be diving into spoiler territory as I talk about what I did and did not
like about this story here, so consider yourselves warned!
First and foremost, as I said, I had
a bit of a problem connecting with the characters. The first character that
we’re introduced to is a battered old soldier of a mouse known simply as ‘the
Captain’. He’s immediately abrasive and constantly angry and you know from just
looking at him that he’s a surprisingly deadly individual. Those are all cool
traits for the gruff old captain stereotype but I never realized how prickly
they could make a protagonist. He’s not simply tough with a no-nonsense
personality, but he’s also cruel to both ally and enemy. One of the more
telling elements of this cruelty is when he visits an old friend who gave up
fighting and hires men to kill him, forcing his old friend to fight for his
very life and awaken a bloodlust that he’d worked so hard to overcome.
So, yes, rather than working through
reason to get his old compatriot to join him in an eventual battle, or even
respecting that ally’s wish to be forgotten, our protagonist throws away the
lives of several others in a gambit that, if he’d miscalculated, would have
resulted in the death of the very person he wanted to have help him. For the
entire book, this incident made me feel just baffled as to why anyone would
work with this mouse and why they would approach working with him with such joy
and nostalgia. Yes, the Captain is strong and he’ll get the job done, but
nobody in their right mind is going to think that they can trust their lives to
him.
This suspension of disbelief is
somewhat alleviated as we meet and learn more about the entire cast. As I said
above, nobody in this book is innocent, and that’s especially true for our heroes.
They’re assassins, thieves, poisoners, liars, and more than a few are
betrayers, both of good and bad. In fact, calling them ‘heroes’ feels rather
wrong, and even our group of protagonists would most definitely disagree with
the title. It took me until near the last half of the book to realize that the
titular Builders were working towards positive political ends, as so much of
the story feels more like a tale of revenge. It can be very confusing to know
how to feel as one reads through this story.
One thing that is not in question,
however, is just how awesome these characters are. I compared this book to Beowulf, and I think the reason for that
is because it feels like a classic epic poem in structure more than a novel. In
novels, there’s usually an arc of sorts as you see character succeed and fail
and grow into an eventual climax. In novels, it’s some accepted for your
protagonists to start small and grow into something grand to overcome what were
previously thought to be impossible odds. In this book, though, the characters
start out being awesome and the entire book feels like we’re watching a legend
being built. Strangely, the key villains in the story are actually afraid of
the protagonists, and that fear never goes away as each member of the Builders
shows exactly why they should be feared. It really put me in a different mood
than most stories, and I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed anything quite like it
other than possibly Robert Ludlum’s Jason
Bourne series. For an anthropomorphic tale, this came like a wicked curve
ball out of left field.
Speaking of, as far as
anthropomorphic fiction goes, The
Builders is very solid. There’s an extremely diverse cast, including a salamander
and an owl, and their individual animal traits are highlighted as a means to
bring out their character, but not in a stereotypical fashion. Yes, the weasel
is a cheat and a liar, but he’s also firmly a good guy and has one of the more
heroic moments in the story. The badger is big and deadly, but he’s also
soft-spoken and even a little romantic. The mouse is small and tenacious, but
he’s also the most dangerous creature to ever walk the countryside, and
everybody knows it.
See, one of the most common pitfalls
that can befall anthropomorphic literature, especially ones written in recent
years, is when the characters lose their species identity. It can be easy, when
reading certain books with diverse animal casts, to forget exactly what animal
someone is, especially when you’re deep into the drama. Modern anthropomorphic
stories can certainly have good and complex characters, but sometimes they can
definitely feel interchangeable with humans or, at the very least,
interchangeable with one another. The fox acts like the wolf who acts like the
panther. This isn’t to say that all animal characters need to have dialogue
tags that indicate their tails wagging or that they need to include barks and
meows with their sentences (Goodness please
no on that!), but a character’s species should be intricately tied to their
identity, and not something added as an afterthought.
It’s a little difficult to properly
lay out how I mean this, but the best and most literal example that I can give
is one of my favorite books: The Wind in
the Willows. In a way, you could say that this book cheats by having all of
the characters named after the animals that they are. Mole, Ratty, and Mr. Toad
are all names that hide nothing… but somehow, upon saying those names, I just
get a vivid mental picture of the character in the novel. I can’t say the name
‘Mr. Toad’ and not think of the wide-eyed, adventure-seeking expression of that
crazed amphibian as he rides along in his newest vehicle. His species is a part
of his character, and The Builders
manages to convey that exact same feeling with its characters without resorting
to calling them by their species names. It’s quite amazing.
 |
| It's funny... For as much as I love Disney, this is still the definitive version of Mr. Toad's appearance in my mind. Maybe it's the pink human-y look of the Disney version that throws me off of it? Ah well! |
So, while The Builders might be a slightly mixed bag for my personal tastes
because of the cruel characters and the intense violence and situations, I will
not deny that it is an excellent book, and a perfect example of good
anthropomorphic literature. I doubt this will reach the level of popularity as
others in the field, and the book leaves absolutely no room for any kind of
sequel, but I still feel like it should be getting more attention than it has.
If you feel intrigued enough by my review here to give it a look, then please
do so and let me know what you thought!
Until next time, happy reading, all!
-Chammy
Currently Reading:
Mister Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan
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