We know, from our own history, that great conflicts can begin from the smallest provocations, the wrong enemy antagonized, the wrong alliance made, the wrong marriage consummated. Had these moments in space and time played out differently, entire calamities might have been mitigated, perhaps even avoided. Never has this truism been more apparent than in K. J. Parker's clockwork universe of wars, clans and engineers. For here, in this world of mountains and deserts, hatreds and jealousies, even the tinniest sparks can ignite conflagrations powerful enough to extinguish civilizations.
In the Great Republic of Mezentia, life unfolds with exquisite regimentation. A civilization of far-seeing engineers, Mezentia has managed to perfect virtually every mechanical process known to man, bending these talents to the manufacturing of goods of a quality to shame all competitors. By positioning themselves as the one-stop shop for everything from domestic clocks to the weapons of war, they have grown immensely wealthy and exceedingly powerful, so much so they have little motivation to be kind to their friends or merciful to their enemies. But rather than channel this phenomenal success in engineering into innovation, Mezentian society has come to be governed by strict codes of law and design. After all, Mezentian creations are perfect in every way. And if one attempts to improve upon a perfect design, then one is implicitly admitting that the design in question is flawed. That is an abomination.
Ziani Vaatzes, a foreman of a Mezentian ordinance factory, is the last man any Mezentian would consider an abominator. And yet, when investigators from the bureau of Compliance discover that, in creating a mechanical doll for his young daughter, he has illegally improved upon the perfect design, he is swiftly arrested and sentenced to be executed. Initially, Ziani appears to be resigned to his fate until the infuriating obstinance and insensitivity of his jailers towards his family provokes him to shrug off his compliant nature and effect a bold escape from his prison, from Mezentia, and from his life. Abandoning everything he's ever known, Ziani flees to the mountainous borderlands where, if he succeeds in ingratiating himself with the two combative peoples who inhabit these hostile lands, he may be able to exact his revenge upon the people who called him abominator.
Littered with dark characters and darker deeds, this first effort in a trilogy from K. J. Parker interweaves the fates of four primary provocateurs whose conflicting wants and desires may well bring death and destruction to their people. In addition to Ziani, there is the hopeless Duke Orsea who senselessly provokes a war with the Mezentians, the ruthless and highly intelligent Duke Valens who tries to protect Orsea for the love of the bumbling duke's wife, and Miel Ducas, Orsea's loyal right hand who was not made for the life that has shackled him. Altogether, their plots and schemes, needs and wants, create a treacherous tangle of temporary alliances designed to gain advantages which forever seem elusive.
But as much as the author's characters are a strength of the story, they are also its primary weakness. For while Devices And Desires is darkly, cleverly, and satisfyingly plotted, and while its conclusion holds promise for the next two volumes, there is a disturbing uniformity of personality here that is already grating. It may be that the world K. J. Parker created here is intentionally populated by people with minimal to no emotional affect. If so, there ought to be some explanation for this flatness, some indication of why both the Mezentians and the people of the mountain duchies experience so few emotions other than anger, jealousy and fear. And most of this is internal, hidden behind masks of politeness and suffering.
Devices And Desires has an intriguing premise, many cunning characters and an inventive world, but its characters are so consistently, pointlessly sociopathic that one has to wonder about the headspace its author was in it when it was composed. Engaging and promising, but its bleakness requires justification. (3/5 Stars)
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