Heroes and Heroines

I am not someone who reads science fiction or fantasy. I will gladly watch it on TV, but when it comes to novels, I have never progressed far beyond Ray Bradbury or Terry Pratchett. As critical as I am of fiction in general, I am even more critical of science fiction and fantasy novels. So when a friend presented me with R.A. Salvatore’s The Highwayman (419 pages, $7.99), it almost goes without saying that I was skeptical.

Fantasy writers have an awful habit of alienating potential readers like myself by giving characters overly complicated names, never ever writing in anything except the passive voice, and using laughable phrases like “he knew not”- symptoms of bad writing in general. Mr. Salvatore is no different. He cobbles together names out of the messiest bits of the alphabet: d’s and y’s and r’s all lassoed together, awkward vowel clusters, and sometimes names with no vowels except y, which is just mean. The inevitable result is a character list that includes names like “Rulhio Noylan” and “Guldibonne”. My spelling checker is having a field day with those. I’m not saying that every character should be named Steve, but complicated and unintentionally funny names distract from the flow of a storyline.

The novel tells the story of the rise of a Robin Hood-esque figure called the Highwayman. All the clichés are accounted for: his humble roots, bullied as a child, an oppressive government just begging to be overthrown, death of certain family members at the hands of said oppressive government, and, of course, the fair maiden who loves him. One needs an exterminator for this massive cliché infestation.

On the bright side, Mr. Salvatore wisely chose to have the Highwayman overcome physical obstacles instead of teenage angst. No one likes a moody hero; the man constantly crying, “Why me?” and pulling his hair in between fights. The author introduces the Highwayman after two hundred pages of back story as someone with serious physical limitations, which made me perk up and take interest. Physical obstacles are far more formidable than mental obstacles, and I found myself wondering how in the world this man could turn out to be the hero.

I did also enjoy the fact that Mr. Salvatore refrains from writing his characters as cardboard cutouts despite all of the clichés. The characters acknowledge two sides to their personalities, although it is only the men who do so. The women, even those that are not the typical damsels in distress, are pure, and don’t have an ethical gray area. The Highwayman admits to himself that stealing from the rich and giving to the poor isn't just the right thing to do, it's fun. Getting revenge on those who humiliated him is fun. Being able to woo his beloved as the famous Highwayman is fun. He isn’t the squeaky clean boy scout as much as he would have others believe. He does have the typical Arthurian code of chivalry that most heroes have, but adding an impish dimension to the character seems more real. I find it interesting that Mr. Salvatore never misses an opportunity to inject a bit of triteness into his plot, yet his characters occasionally show some depth. In The Highwayman, good people do bad things, and some of the bad guys are allowed to have a conscience.

Mr. Salvatore does have potential, but his writing style is forced. He composes his phrases indiscriminately; he doesn’t pay enough attention to the nuances of his choices. Daylight might surround a character, but the day probably would not. He can also be too adjective-happy, dumping them all over the place. It is better to be plain-spoken than to force finesse. The book would have been infinitely better had R.A. Salvatore shaved the clichés, stopped trying to decorate every line, and just let his characters speak.

Next week: White Oleander by Janet Fitch