cyberhuman's review against another edition
5.0
It is often said that a story can only have one big "lie." But every rule must have exceptions. In his first novel, Bitter Seeds, Ian Tregillis successfully pits one big lie against another: the outcome of an alternate World War 2 is to be decided by the struggle between the British warlocks and the Nazi supermen.
During the Spanish Civil War, a British secret agent Raybould Marsh is sent to Spain to meet a Nazi defector. But the latter spontaneously erupts into flames, burning to death, and the top-secret documents and film that he has not had time to properly deliver are severely damaged. Later, Marsh meets a young German woman in a harbor, who seems to know him--and she has wires sticking out of her head.
As it turns out, the Germans secretly deployed a team of supermen, using Spain as their training ground. One can fly, another superman can make things burst into flames, one superwoman can turn invisible. An imbecile on a leash can smash things by telekinesis. In order to oppose this, the British turn to a secretive cabal of warlocks.
At first, they think that the German supermen use the same magic in another guise. But they soon discover this is not the case. The supermen are the so-called "Doctor von Westarp's children"--the very few that have miraculously lived through the "good doctor's" experiments. Although the "willenkrafte" (willpower) they use is ill-defined, this comes across as a species of science. Whereas the warlocks use magic--another the book's many polarities.
This magic is powerful, but it is not without a price. Indeed, everyone must pay a price in the story, the von-Westarp's children and the British alike. For the warlocks, this takes the form of "blood price." The Eidolons, the demon-like beings, hate humans with passion and would like nothing better than to erase the humanity entirely from existence. The more the warlocks ask of them, the higher is the price--in blood, at first; but then, in lives. In many lives.
There is a point in the story when neither side is sympathetic; thankfully, it's brief. The slide down the "getting worse before it begins getting better" slope is handled masterfully. The character development arc of another POV character, William Beauclerk, is especially poignant.
Will (interestingly, usually referred to by his nickname in the story, whereas Marsh is called by his last name) is a liaison between the British secret service and the warlocks, and a beginning warlock in his own right. The story begins with him as a witty and gregarious teetotaler, easy to like. Toward the end, the Eidolons' demands of mass killings of his own people drive him almost to the brink of ruin.
On the other side, the Nazi too have likable characters. The third POV in the book belongs to Klaus, one of the supermen. He is a half-Gipsy, and therefore not very much liked by the Nazi (although tolerated for his usefulness). His particular skill is the ability to become incorporeal, going unscathed through walls or through a hail of bullets, even stopping a victim's heart by bare hands.
Yet it is his sister Gretel who is the story's most memorable characters. She is enigma. A girl who can predict future (it is her that Marsh had met in Spain). A lover of poetry and eccentric pursuits, Gretel has the trickster's humor, though with dark edge. But she is insane and has motives of her own, not necessarily coinciding with the goals of the Nazi leadership. As a reader, I wanted nothing more than to find out what she's up to. But, just as it opens with Klaus and Gretel in the prologue, heading toward an unknown future in the von Westarp's mansion, the book closes with them heading toward a very different unknown (though not to her!) future in the next book of the Milkweed triptych--the one I don't intend to miss.
During the Spanish Civil War, a British secret agent Raybould Marsh is sent to Spain to meet a Nazi defector. But the latter spontaneously erupts into flames, burning to death, and the top-secret documents and film that he has not had time to properly deliver are severely damaged. Later, Marsh meets a young German woman in a harbor, who seems to know him--and she has wires sticking out of her head.
As it turns out, the Germans secretly deployed a team of supermen, using Spain as their training ground. One can fly, another superman can make things burst into flames, one superwoman can turn invisible. An imbecile on a leash can smash things by telekinesis. In order to oppose this, the British turn to a secretive cabal of warlocks.
At first, they think that the German supermen use the same magic in another guise. But they soon discover this is not the case. The supermen are the so-called "Doctor von Westarp's children"--the very few that have miraculously lived through the "good doctor's" experiments. Although the "willenkrafte" (willpower) they use is ill-defined, this comes across as a species of science. Whereas the warlocks use magic--another the book's many polarities.
This magic is powerful, but it is not without a price. Indeed, everyone must pay a price in the story, the von-Westarp's children and the British alike. For the warlocks, this takes the form of "blood price." The Eidolons, the demon-like beings, hate humans with passion and would like nothing better than to erase the humanity entirely from existence. The more the warlocks ask of them, the higher is the price--in blood, at first; but then, in lives. In many lives.
There is a point in the story when neither side is sympathetic; thankfully, it's brief. The slide down the "getting worse before it begins getting better" slope is handled masterfully. The character development arc of another POV character, William Beauclerk, is especially poignant.
Will (interestingly, usually referred to by his nickname in the story, whereas Marsh is called by his last name) is a liaison between the British secret service and the warlocks, and a beginning warlock in his own right. The story begins with him as a witty and gregarious teetotaler, easy to like. Toward the end, the Eidolons' demands of mass killings of his own people drive him almost to the brink of ruin.
On the other side, the Nazi too have likable characters. The third POV in the book belongs to Klaus, one of the supermen. He is a half-Gipsy, and therefore not very much liked by the Nazi (although tolerated for his usefulness). His particular skill is the ability to become incorporeal, going unscathed through walls or through a hail of bullets, even stopping a victim's heart by bare hands.
Yet it is his sister Gretel who is the story's most memorable characters. She is enigma. A girl who can predict future (it is her that Marsh had met in Spain). A lover of poetry and eccentric pursuits, Gretel has the trickster's humor, though with dark edge. But she is insane and has motives of her own, not necessarily coinciding with the goals of the Nazi leadership. As a reader, I wanted nothing more than to find out what she's up to. But, just as it opens with Klaus and Gretel in the prologue, heading toward an unknown future in the von Westarp's mansion, the book closes with them heading toward a very different unknown (though not to her!) future in the next book of the Milkweed triptych--the one I don't intend to miss.
evan98's review against another edition
Tá aí uma fantasia histórica que merece mais reconhecimento.
ginnikin's review against another edition
Why is moral bankruptcy always illustrated through sexual predation? Did the world need yet another book with a giant "imbecile" (the book's word, which made me shudder Every. Fucking. Time.) who's super strong but that's it? Oh, look, it's an inscrutable waif woman who does illogical things and refuses to answer for them.
Strangely, the book was quite interesting, and I was enjoying it until it hit the tipping point. Then it was airborne across the room.
Strangely, the book was quite interesting, and I was enjoying it until it hit the tipping point. Then it was airborne across the room.
mferrante83's review against another edition
5.0
First Line: Murder on the wind: crows and ravens wheeled beneath a heavy sky, like spots of ink splashed across a leaden canvas.
I had totally forgotten about Ian Tregillis’ Bitter Seeds until it arrived at the library and I read the jacket flap which immediately had me excited to read it. The book features the creation of literal Nazi Supermen, super-powered Nazi soldiers experimented on as children, facing off against a talented everyman spy who just so happens to be backed up by a small cabal of British magicians. It is an alternate history title, a sub-genre I don’t flirt with too much, that features an inventive plot, dynamic characters, and a grim tone that serves the setting, and subject matter, perfectly.
Bitter Seeds isn’t a book that will leave you feeling good at its conclusion with the tone of the novel skirting closer to horror than anything else and the weight of historical background, the Blitz, combining with the dire actions taken by the British to defend their homeland engendering a growing sense of dread that reaches its ultimate conclusion during the novel’s denouement. The grim tone is enhanced by the characters who, for the most part, are likable (even the bad guys have their moments) but are all irreparably changed, damaged even, by the actions war forces upon them. Tregillis does a great job in the prologue of introducing the characters we will follow by sharing their early childhood moments. The arrival of the orphaned children on the Nazi farm is horrific and the off-camera fate of a sick child while chilling did call to mind the question as to whether the remaining children were really better off or not. The introduction of our ‘heroes’ Raybould Marsh and William echo the children on the Nazi side, both are also orphans; there is a less sinister tone.
Tregillis, in a particularly Hitchcockian mode, proves extremely adept at making sure all the most horrific scenes occurs off-camera. The most horrific deeps are never explained in gory detail and yet you are never left wondering exactly what it is that happened. That is a good thing since, while the British sorcerers are responsible for some heinous acts, the most sickening acts of cruelty and wanton disregard for human life occur on the Nazi. While those moments left my stomach unsettled what perhaps is even more frightening is the matter of fact way in which the characters on that side seem to deal with it. That sense of callousness hammers home the fact that Klaus, the main Nazi POV and one of the children experimented on, is victim of Nazi indoctrination grown accustomed to the horrors of his own existence to the point where the pain of others is a mostly distant thing.
On the British side the effect is very similar and in a nice bit of parallelism the horrors of the Nazi experiments have forced upon the beleaguered British the growing sense of that same disregard; though it is couched in terms of the greater did. The magic of the British sorcerers is one that requires blood to function. So, as the Blitz wears on, greater and greater sacrifices become necessary. We experience the horror of these sacrifices through William Beauclerk, a magician, and he becomes despite his participation in these sacrifices, one of the few human and sympathetic characters in the novel. William’s journey, though not apparent at first as the novel focuses strongly on the spy Raybould, becomes the linchpin experience that for me defined my emotional response to what I read. While many of the characters make you shudder, or feel sad or angry, William was the only one that really made me want to weep; if you’ll excuse a bit of hyperbole.
All in all Bitter Seeds is a fantastic, inventive read and a rather impressive debut novel. Much like his fellow Wild Cards alum Melinda Snodgrass, Tregillis’ work combines elements of both science and fantasy with a touch of Lovecraftian horror from beyond thrown in for good measure. With its real world rooting, dark tone, as well as its tragic and believable characters Bitter Seeds is one of my favorite reads of 2010 and I am excited to see where the remaining two books in the Milkweed Triptych go next.
I had totally forgotten about Ian Tregillis’ Bitter Seeds until it arrived at the library and I read the jacket flap which immediately had me excited to read it. The book features the creation of literal Nazi Supermen, super-powered Nazi soldiers experimented on as children, facing off against a talented everyman spy who just so happens to be backed up by a small cabal of British magicians. It is an alternate history title, a sub-genre I don’t flirt with too much, that features an inventive plot, dynamic characters, and a grim tone that serves the setting, and subject matter, perfectly.
Bitter Seeds isn’t a book that will leave you feeling good at its conclusion with the tone of the novel skirting closer to horror than anything else and the weight of historical background, the Blitz, combining with the dire actions taken by the British to defend their homeland engendering a growing sense of dread that reaches its ultimate conclusion during the novel’s denouement. The grim tone is enhanced by the characters who, for the most part, are likable (even the bad guys have their moments) but are all irreparably changed, damaged even, by the actions war forces upon them. Tregillis does a great job in the prologue of introducing the characters we will follow by sharing their early childhood moments. The arrival of the orphaned children on the Nazi farm is horrific and the off-camera fate of a sick child while chilling did call to mind the question as to whether the remaining children were really better off or not. The introduction of our ‘heroes’ Raybould Marsh and William echo the children on the Nazi side, both are also orphans; there is a less sinister tone.
Tregillis, in a particularly Hitchcockian mode, proves extremely adept at making sure all the most horrific scenes occurs off-camera. The most horrific deeps are never explained in gory detail and yet you are never left wondering exactly what it is that happened. That is a good thing since, while the British sorcerers are responsible for some heinous acts, the most sickening acts of cruelty and wanton disregard for human life occur on the Nazi. While those moments left my stomach unsettled what perhaps is even more frightening is the matter of fact way in which the characters on that side seem to deal with it. That sense of callousness hammers home the fact that Klaus, the main Nazi POV and one of the children experimented on, is victim of Nazi indoctrination grown accustomed to the horrors of his own existence to the point where the pain of others is a mostly distant thing.
On the British side the effect is very similar and in a nice bit of parallelism the horrors of the Nazi experiments have forced upon the beleaguered British the growing sense of that same disregard; though it is couched in terms of the greater did. The magic of the British sorcerers is one that requires blood to function. So, as the Blitz wears on, greater and greater sacrifices become necessary. We experience the horror of these sacrifices through William Beauclerk, a magician, and he becomes despite his participation in these sacrifices, one of the few human and sympathetic characters in the novel. William’s journey, though not apparent at first as the novel focuses strongly on the spy Raybould, becomes the linchpin experience that for me defined my emotional response to what I read. While many of the characters make you shudder, or feel sad or angry, William was the only one that really made me want to weep; if you’ll excuse a bit of hyperbole.
All in all Bitter Seeds is a fantastic, inventive read and a rather impressive debut novel. Much like his fellow Wild Cards alum Melinda Snodgrass, Tregillis’ work combines elements of both science and fantasy with a touch of Lovecraftian horror from beyond thrown in for good measure. With its real world rooting, dark tone, as well as its tragic and believable characters Bitter Seeds is one of my favorite reads of 2010 and I am excited to see where the remaining two books in the Milkweed Triptych go next.
jefffrane's review against another edition
5.0
I held off reviewing Bitter Seeds for some time because I thought, and still believe that the book is worth more attention than I'm going to give it here. Maybe it's time to reanimate my blog. At any rate, Bitter Seeds was easily the most creative sf/fantasy novel I've read in many years. Alternate history with more imagination than any others that come to mind. It's also incredibly bleak and dark, with barely a glimpse of hope through the darkest hours of WWII and the Blitz. As the story slips quietly away from our timeline it's with authenticity that at times it feels drawn from our history rather than the created history.
Tregillis' writing is superb, his characters interesting and well-drawn, the atmosphere that fills the book is perfectly tuned and seriously disturbing. From what I've read, the next two novels in the triptych get no more light-hearted. While I'm looking forward to The Coldest War I'm in no hurry to sink back into those chilly waters. I need a break, maybe cheering myself up with some Leonard Cohen.
Tregillis' writing is superb, his characters interesting and well-drawn, the atmosphere that fills the book is perfectly tuned and seriously disturbing. From what I've read, the next two novels in the triptych get no more light-hearted. While I'm looking forward to The Coldest War I'm in no hurry to sink back into those chilly waters. I need a break, maybe cheering myself up with some Leonard Cohen.
jerseygrrrl's review against another edition
1.0
DNF. Scanned the rest of the book. I burnt out on the violence and lack of female characters with any shred of personality.
litwrite's review against another edition
4.0
Fun, inventive, and smart - though not what I expected, I enjoyed this all the same. Tregillis uses the tried and true formula of Nazi occultism and experimentation during the second world war to good effect here, telling the story of a battle of an 'x-men' like super team of Nazis created by a Dr. Mengele clone, versus old school English Aleister Crowley type warlocks.
The action scenes in this book were done exceptionally well. I've always found that action scenes in novels to be very tricky - it takes a deft hand to explain exactly what's going on without confusing the reader, which is something that I found Tregillis handled deftly. I also appreciated the tone of grit and exhaustion that he injected into the novel, showing the high toll that war takes on all that take part, regardless of which side they are on. A good read, and I will definitely be checking out the next in the series.
The action scenes in this book were done exceptionally well. I've always found that action scenes in novels to be very tricky - it takes a deft hand to explain exactly what's going on without confusing the reader, which is something that I found Tregillis handled deftly. I also appreciated the tone of grit and exhaustion that he injected into the novel, showing the high toll that war takes on all that take part, regardless of which side they are on. A good read, and I will definitely be checking out the next in the series.
csdaley's review against another edition
5.0
One of my favorite alternate history novels of all time. The 2nd book in the series is suppose to be even better. I look forward to finding out.
chrisyakimov's review against another edition
DNF around page 40. I think any time we choose to portray gendered violence or violation, against children, no less (no matter how “slight” you might claim it to be) — you better have good reason for it. Characterizing the evil of the “Doktor” just isn’t a good enough reason by itself. If the book were going to explore injustice or exploitation in a meaningful way, then I’d have been willing to give it more of a chance. But twenty pages or so after that scene, nothing more has come forth to justify continued attention on this.
Writing is hard, and I don’t feel like it’s fair that those of us who haven’t published get to say whatever we want about someone’s creative work. But when it comes to illustrations of gendered oppression (and other forms), I think it’s important to speak up.
Writing is hard, and I don’t feel like it’s fair that those of us who haven’t published get to say whatever we want about someone’s creative work. But when it comes to illustrations of gendered oppression (and other forms), I think it’s important to speak up.