Several hundred years into the future, the western half of the United States is a very different place. An event has passed called the Cataclysm, in which the spirits/powers of the Earth finally became fed up with the way humankind treated them. The two groups which were able to come through were the Pagans, who knew how to communicate with the Earth spirits, and the SCAdians (Society for Creative Anacrhonicms) types who knew how to live without technology. North America has divided into various kingdoms reigned under different powers. Westria covers most of the Western United States, with a spiritual structure a mix of neopaganism and Qabalah.

The story centers around a young woman named Faris, discovered by king Jehan, who he wants to be his wife and queen. She is reluctant, due to a poor self-image and less than ideal family life. While he is trying to woo her and handle the kingdom, his seneschal Caolin is taking some of the reigns behind his back and trying to rule the kingdom as he sees fits. As Jehan and Faris grow closer and are eventually married, Caolin grows more jealous and resentful, turning toward ceremonial style magic to grasp as power which he feels he has been denied throughout his life. Plots unfold, alliances sway, betrayal abounds.

Paxson weaves her tale with a great deal of skill. Before this, I read the most recent book in the series, The Golden Hills of Westria, so I had some idea of what happened in the earlier books. In a way it feels like I am learning some history through fantasy. ( )

I was predisposed to like these stories because I am a longtime member of the SCA, and I knew that Diana L. Paxson was one of the founders of the organization (as Diana Listmaker).

This fantasy series is basically a post-apocalyptic neo-pagan utopia set largely in California. I am not particularly familiar with pagan traditions such as Wicca, so it's hard for me to pick out what aspects she invented and which ones she lifted straight from the source material. The underlying premise is that after too much abuse by human society, the forces of Nature rose up in rebellion during the Cataclysm, wiping out most of humanity and the traces of its technological society about 800 years before the events in the novels. Only those people who had some connection to Nature survived into the new age. And in the kingdom of Westria, they formed a Covenant with the Elements and the Kindreds of all the different living things to live in harmony without seeking to conquer or control. And yet, the royalty of Westria have the four jewels that allow them to control the elements: earth, air, fire, and water. Go figure. The royals also basically become avatars.

Anyway, this is another fantasy series where the divine is real, palpable, omnipresent to those who have the psychic sensitivity to connect to the spiritual (read: astral) plane of existence. Similarly, people with that kind of empathic ability can connect with other people and even other organisms. Must be nice to not be hampered by the limitations of the spoken word or to never experience some sort of existential crisis of faith. I think this concept of divine, anthropomorphic forces that are tangible is one of the all-time favorite tropes of the fantasy genre.

Before I continue, allow me to digress: I am realizing that my negative reviews contain a lot more spoilers than the favorable ones. I think it's the irresistible urge to hold my nose while pointing and saying "this stinks." So be warned: lots of SPOILERS ahead for the first book.

The Mistress of the Jewels is an omnibus reprint of the first two stories: Lady of Light and Lady of Darkness.
I hated The Mistress of the Jewels. It was a slog to get through the first part of it, and the second part certainly held few surprises in terms of plot. It's basically a love triangle involving the most extreme stereotypes. There's Faris, the young, incredibly beautiful, fragile, weak, helpless, intuitive girl who becomes Queen of Westria, linked to the land itself. Then there's Jehan the king, the epitome of the hero: handsome, athletic, courageous, decisive, honest--the perfect leader who inspires loyalty and love in his followers. He's basically the stereotype of male strength and perfection. It's love at first sight for both of them, though of course it takes a while for them to admit it and move on to the inevitable marriage etc.--enter the first dragging of the plot.

And who's the third in this triumvirate of love, betrayal, and stereotypes? That would be Caolin, the seneschal who's been the chief administrator for the last 15 years while the playboy king was off womanizing and warring and otherwise having playboy adventures. Caolin as chief villain of the series represents a great many negative stereotypes--let's go through them one by one.

First, who becomes the chief bean-counter in an organization? Obviously the biggest nerd ever. And Caolin is the stereotypical geek with a chip on his shoulder and a burning desire for vengeance on the dumb jocks who humiliated him in his youth.

Second, he's psychically null--can't connect to anyone emotionally (some would call that a sociopath). He studied at the College of the Wise where those with psychic abilities are trained to become the religious leaders of the kingdom. But he failed and he's full of angst.

Third, he's learned to compensate with pure intellect and cold rationality (he plays chess against himself entirely in his head--ooh!). So he develops a total god complex--I'm smarter than everyone else, and I know what's best for the kingdom and the king. And oh yeah, the ends totally justify the means because he knows what he's doing is totally right.

Fourth, in fact the only person he has ever connected to emotionally is the king, and that only under extenuating circumstances. Way back in the past, the teenage king was grievously hurt to discover that the first love of his life was simply using him. In a desperate attempt to console him, Caolin and Jehan had sex. That's right--the only indication of any homosexual activity in the book, and it goes to fuel the villain's obsession. The bad gay/bisexual man in a romantic storyline is a very hackneyed trope and wrong in so many ways. And yes, Caolin is totally obsessed with the only person who ever sought him out to become his friend. So when the king falls in love with Faris, Caolin keeps asking himself, "But what's wrong with me?" He's all about the jilted lover, even though that episode was a long time ago.

So there you go--Faris, Jehan, and Caolin. Caolin's descent into evil and betrayal is inevitable, and I just wished she'd get it over with already, not drag it out for another couple hundred pages. There are a few points where Caolin pauses and maybe would reconsider, but of course, someone interrupts as he's on the verge of confessing, and the moment is lost. Rinse, repeat. And of course, everyone, EVERYONE, is clueless that something is wrong until halfway through the SECOND half (Lady of Darkness).

I got really tired of reading Caolin's so very privileged perspective and the endless whining of Faris about how no one can love her because of the burn scar she keeps hidden, or how hard all of this is, or how she's misunderstood or all alone, or she doesn't want to lose herself as she's swept up by powerful forces (avatar of the gods, remember). The Mistress of the Jewels basically seesaws between their two stories, with Jehan as a fulcrum, and the occasional secondary character as antidotes.

Arrggh! And then there's the little subplots that largely go nowhere, which makes me wonder why bother. Why, why, why bring up these potential issues and difficulties and then just leave them hanging unresolved and apparently irrelevant? There's the Mistress of the College and her darkly, ominous warnings. And Rosemary with her sundry animals. And Caolin and his wolf companion. And the growing conflicts between humans and the other kindreds--a secular administrator who can't perceive the spiritual ramifications of government-sanctioned human activities is obviously going to get into turf battles with the religious authorities, bringing a new angle on the classic tension between church and state.

**TOTAL SPOILER PARAGRAPH** What happens? In the second half, Jehan dies. Everyone is grief-stricken. Caolin decides to consolidate his position as supreme ruler behind a puppet. Faris decides she needs some sort of strong man. So they each awkwardly and stupidly decide that sex with the other is what's needed, even though neither one particularly feels any desire much less love. That moment of physical contact gone horribly awry reveals each one's worst secrets. So the Queen flees with her infant son, and Caolin puts on the Jewels of Power. They fight in the astral plane. Caolin is defeated and terribly injured, but the Queen doesn't have the heart to destroy him: after all, Jehan loved him. But she was weakened by her starvation and pneumonia provoked by running off into the wilderness with no survival skills, and she doesn't survive the battle. Instead, she ascends to the divine pantheon. And the Jewels? Scattered and lost. The infant Prince? Left incognito to be raised by the peasants who found the nameless mother and child so that he won't be used as a pawn by anyone else ruthlessly seeking power. End of story. Weak. That's not even getting into how long it takes everyone to figure out that something is wrong, that Caolin is a manipulative bastard, that they need to gather evidence, and so on. And of course, all of the plot elements that show how Caolin is a Bad Man. Yawn. Using sorcery to kill the prime witness against him was a completely gratuitous scene.

So I hated the main characters. I hated all of the elements that went nowhere--neither providing character depth nor moving the plot forward. I hated how slowly the story progressed--why wade through 200+ pages of fluff to get to the obvious? I disliked the weak ending of book two, and the weaker ending of book one--the king and queen use the Jewels to stop an unsanctioned wildfire and everyone is swept away by awe. And Paxson way overused the word ecstasy.

Other major issues--here's this post-apocalyptic world where only people with a connection to nature survived--where the hell are the Native Americans? You'd think they would be front and central unless you buy into the fallacy that the California Indians went extinct (no shit, I've seen that argument). Nope, the only mention is that Faris has a grandparent who was apparently a Hurok up in the hills somewhere, and when she's pregnant, one of her indigenous relatives delivers a cradle for the soon-to-be prince because this is the first time in 800 years that someone with Native American blood is going to be on the throne. So the Native Americans are just as marginalized in fantasy as in real life, consigned to the geographic hinterlands and a hardscrabble, invisible existence.

And of course, the kingdom of Westria is essentially all white folks. I guess just white folks survived the Cataclysm (except for the token offscreen presence of those Hurok), yet more fictional proof that we're the chosen people. Sigh. The rest of the series tries to compensate for this bad beginning with a whole boatload of racial and ethnic and linguistic and cultural diversity.

The other major issue? Apparently, of all the postapocalyptic kingdoms that form, only Westria has the ultimate power in the form of the Jewels and is the only kingdom that has an explicit do-no-harm live-in-harmony contract with the powers of nature. How come they're so special? Sigh, again.

What did I like? Well, most of the secondary characters, such as they were--they get more playtime in subsequent novels. The descriptions of the neopagan religion were interesting, and I liked the way that the author switched between pivotal simultaneous scenes to build the symmetry and tension: Faris in big, public rituals mirrored by Caolin's creation of a private, sorcerous ritual; Faris giving birth and the Battle of the Waste. And there's a wildfire at the end of the first part--I always like portrayals of fire. ( )