I have just finished Andrzej Sapkowski’s Sword of Destiny and wanted to write a review.
But then I remembered Sword of Destiny is the first book of The Witcher series. And I read it after Sapkowski’s second book, The Last Wish, like other readers.
Why?
In a fan-translated 1993 interview, shared on Reddit, Andrzej Sapkowski stated, “…threads did not succeed one another in a chronological manner and initially, it did not matter.”
He stated all he wanted to do was turn in a short story for the Polish fantasy magazine, Fantastyka, as a hobby.
What he did not expect was the success “The Witcher” garnered and didn’t think he’d be writing a saga.
When SuperNowa published the book, they set “The Witcher” along with other short stories in The Last Wish.
Sapkowski uses a certain framing technique in the book that justifies this choice.
In it, a wounded Geralt recovers at the Temple of Melitele and experiences lengthy flashbacks.
They cover different, random events of his life.
Perspicacious readers will notice that the events that take place in T.L.W. imply or suggest that they happened earlier in Geralt’s life, which acts as a subconscious starting point for the reader.
The fragmented and non-linear storyline may confound new readers, but it preps them for S.o.D.’s narrative.
And the ultimate element why T.L.W. should be the starting point comes from a certain story. It’s the origin of the arc and life of Ciri, who becomes a major character later on in The Witcher series.
Since Blood of Elves is where the saga begins, it behooves the reader to start at T.L.W. Ciri takes center stage in that book and beyond.
So, putting S.o.D. to the side for now, I withdrew my copy of T.L.W. and went over it again.
The question now becomes, “Is The Last Wish any good?”
My response is, “Does a bear poop in the woods?”
Answer: Of course he does. I would know; I’m a grizzly.
While there are good fantasy writers I can recommend, Sapkowski stands out.
He takes the conventional fairy tales we’re familiar with and gives us a hook punch instead; he subverts our expectations.
You’ll find the games do this well.
But the Netflix adaptation… well, we don’t talk about the Netflix adaptation…
Mr. Sapkowski invokes a post-postmodern (or metamodern) style that keeps the story lively and colorful while maintaining profundity and depth.
It’s not like George R. R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire, where it’s sociological and dark with some brilliant twists. The problem is S.o.I.a.F. be exhausting with its cynicism when life already feels dismal.
At the same time T.L.W. doesn’t feel escapist and seemingly, overtly, optimistic like Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.
Mr. Sapkowski acknowledges the darkness, cruelty, malice, and mediocrity of life but refuses to give in to nihilism.
His stories make you care about the humanism and characters, whether they are human or monsters, and less about Aragorn’s tax policy.
I couldn’t care less about Aragorn’s tax policy, BECAUSE I DEAL WITH THEM EVERY FUCKING DAY!
The Witcher series performs a balancing act that doesn’t embrace the logos that either of those fantasies possess.
It has a nuance view with a humorous or sarcastic tone.
And we can see that in Sapkowski’s writing.
Geralt of Rivia is not your typical hero.
If anything, he’s a rebel of levity; he dislikes authority, distrusts nobility and mages, and rolls his eyes toward religion.
Yet he refuses to be the modern protester and does his own thing, quietly.
Sure, he’s cynical, but not nihilistic.
He parries despair with facetiousness, guffaws at doom and despair, and tries to do the right thing anyway.
All without a word of praise.
There’s an upbeat attitude about him and the writing. Beautiful, ideal moments at times slash through the dreariness one would expect in Game of Thrones, Dark Souls, or Berserk.
Mr. Sapkowski’s signature sarcasm and severe understatements make the book enjoyable, witty, and hilarious reading.
In the proper moments, of course.
It’s a metamodern book that never falls into the pits of despair.
It doesn’t get so into itself that it dismantles its own narrative, like, say, Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy.
That is not meant as a slight towards Mr. Auster, by the way.
It just tells a story about other smaller stories within that grander narrative to reveal truths about the world.
Not every truth is pretty, but it doesn’t wallow in its solemnity. If anything, its revelations make you question everything perceived and every choice made.
One excellent example is in the story A Grain of Truth.
It starts off with Geralt investigating the deaths of local merchants and their daughters in the forest.
He delves further and finds a mansion where a beast resides.
The beast confronts the witcher for trespassing onto his property and it looks like things are about to get ugly.
But then it turns out the beast is actually a classy gentleman and even invites Geralt in to eat. From there they chat over how he came to be a beast with his curse.
It’s reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast.
With that established, we all know only a woman can break the spell with true love.
But it turns out, without spoiling much of the story, that what’s keeping him a beast may be a feminine supernatural agent that lurks within the manor grounds.
It concludes as a story that asks you, “What is a monster and what is not?”
That’s one of the main motifs in the series.
If Philip K. Dick asks “What does it mean to be human?” in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, then Andrzej Sapkowski asks “What does it mean to be a monster?” in The Last Wish.
It’s a question that Geralt has to wrestle with in this book and beyond. Just like Deckard.
He comes off as a hesitant hunter in these stories.
Villagers or nobles hire him to get rid of a creature that’s causing issues in the community. But once he looks deeper into the problem, things get complicated over a reasonable, simple, perceived mistake.
Because of his principles, Geralt questions and remains reluctant to kill monsters. Especially if there is reasoning to be found in their actions.
Thus, he resorts to taking a neutral position and mediating between the monsters and the supposed victims.
It’s the exact opposite of Beowulf; a monster slayer who kills monsters and asks questions later. Plain and simple, just to make a name for himself.
Of course, because the hiring party in the stories is bigoted, narrow-minded, and judgmental, all they care about is ridding the monster.
It puts Geralt in an uncomfortable position as the mediator, especially as a witcher. He’s considered a mutant to others and therefore sub-human.
Most of the time, outcomes end up being twists with smarmy irony. The narrative asks who was right and who was wrong? Was Geralt’s choice the wrong choice? The right choice?
It’s frustrating for Geralt, engaging (and sometimes humorous) to the reader.
Remember, the story doesn’t become disenchanted because of the unfortunate outcomes; there’s still humanism within.
Some stories’ endings are not so grim. Surprisingly, they can be beautiful or touching. But there’s always that twist to make it engaging!
Another factor to keep in mind with these stories is their uncertainty. For the sake of its metamodern theme, the narrative is never 100% clear and can be considered unreliable.
It’s like Dark Souls lore and environmental storytelling where not everything is clear-cut. You, the perceiver, have to put it together somehow.
Fragmentation is the key to trying to make you engage with these narratives.
Like Geralt trying to mediate between monsters and humans, the story mediates between realism and fantasy. It’s subconsciously established since it’s told from his perspective.
Geralt understands the time and space he’s in but doesn’t wallow. Perhaps he’s sarcastic and cynical, but he never loses hope.
The writing style of The Last Wish matches Geralt’s attitude: fragmented in memory and narrative, balanced in ideals and realism.
One thing that I appreciate about re-reading The Last Wish is how the book rewards returning readers.
More details are revealed that you will miss on the first reading.
Details where you get those “Ohhhh, I see” moments.
Or you begin asking interesting questions that make you wonder, “What else is this book hiding from me?”
It’s important to know that The Witcher is a big deal in Poland. Some factors may fly over foreign readers’ heads for not being accustomed to the culture.
I still enjoyed the book regardless!
I like the monsters and find reading about Polish legends refreshing. But I cannot say the same for other new readers.
Due to translation difficulties some of the writing and dialogue may sound a bit weird to foreigners.
Danusia Stok did a humdinger of a good job in translation!
But some idioms, expressions and sarcastic comments won’t land as gracefully.
But hey, no one’s perfect. I still enjoyed the humor of it.
Sapkowski’s brilliant idea works so well in book format it became a foolproof blueprint to be translated for adaptation. Unless you’re Netflix.
Regardless, I’d recommend getting a copy of The Last Wish!
It’s enjoyable, easy to read, entertaining, and it will make you question the definition of a monster… in this book and out of it.
Sources
Reddit: Translation of Sapkowski’s ‘93 Interview
Superbunnyhop: Replaying The Witchers
Anonym: Sapkowski on how he wrote THE WITCHER
Cerealkillerz: Comic Con Interview with Andrzej Sapkowski – The Creator of The Witcher