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Lunch Knives

Caine Black Knife by Matthew Stover

Harsh. Brutal. Unflinching. Matthew Stover's Caine Black Knife is like getting zapped with a defibrillator when you aren't arresting. A hell of a jolt that knocks the life out of you instead of back in you. Leaving you to wake up scarred and in a puddle of drool you can only hope is your own, the stench of burning hair wafting. Sizzling.

Other fantasy novels claim they're brutal and gritty. But you might as well put a bow in their hair. They're playacting. Badly. Like William Shatner trying to do The Sound of Music. If that's brutality, then Caine Black Knife is the biggest, meanest boy on the block. That guy that had a mustache in elementary school who'd slap you silly for your lunch money while giving you the stink-eye. And pick his teeth with a shiv in class.

Stover's novel doesn't just live. It snarls and growls. Like its main character Caine, it's a testament to all that's antisocial, always taking its bad self to anywhere that's not here. Because with Caine, where he's at usually isn't a good place to be. Bad things get worse. Worse things get downright rotten. Downright rotten things get…well, normal for him. He's a negative ion attracting a positive amount of crap, a fecal matter magnet always knee-deep in some cesspool.

And he's dropped more bodies than the Bubonic Plague. An assassin without peer.

Deadly. Calculating. An Interstellar Rock Star. He's all of this, and more. But if you'd ask Caine, he'd just tell you he's lucky.

Caine returns to the Boedecken, twenty-five years after a brutal battle there transformed him into a reality TV superstar. Older now, maybe wiser, he re-discovers the face of Hell. A Hell he changed into an oasis. Barren ground he turned fertile, irrigating it with the blood of the Black Knives.

The Black Knives. A name synonymous with terror. An ogrilloi clan known for their unparalleled brutality. For their inventive tortures. Better to do yourself than let a Black Knife catch you alive. Because then you'll wish you were dead.

But there aren't many Black Knives now. Caine made sure of that. He got genocidal on their ass, exterminating them to the brink of extinction. Twenty-five long years ago.

Then he got adopted by his brother Orbek, an ogrilloi. A Black Knife. Making Caine a part of the clan. Caine Black Knife.

Now Orbek is up to his tusks in trouble, imprisoned by the Knights of Khryl, a death sentence hanging over his head. So Caine must return to save his brother. Back to the Boedecken. A blast from the past.

Not many authors can write an immersive first person perspective like this. It's phenomenal. Caine doesn't just narrate, he lives. This isn't reading, it's rafting down the river of Caine's consciousness. A dark, disturbing stream-of-conscious narration unapologetically filled with ugly thoughts. Caine's a dick, as unlikeable a character as you'll ever find. Dishonorable and a downright villain to some. Most writers would try to find something redeeming about him. Something that takes off the harsh, ugly edges. Something that says he's not all bad. Maybe his secret love of puppies, or working the local soup kitchen on Sundays. Stover never succumbs, instead always embracing Caine's dickheaded-ness. Glorifying it. Caine doesn't care about being liked. Being liked only gets you killed. And being dead is butt.

And it's this unflinching nature, this refusal to kneel and submit which makes Caine Black Knife so fascinating. Caine is an indomitable force of nature. The perfect storm. A tornado of terror that can't be stopped. Can't be appeased. Can't be bargained with.

Chapters are split into a now-and-then format. Now following Caine's quest to save his brother Orbek. Then focusing on Caine's annihilation of the Black Knives. Both storylines are one sensational scene after another, a machine gun pacing burping out nonstop action. Rat-a-tat-tats serving as the soundtrack for Caine's memorable sequences.

The storylines alternate by chapter, always ending on high notes. You finish each chapter, dying to know what happens next. So you turn the page, start a new chapter. Only to find the other plotline. Then rinse. Repeat. So it's always one more page, one more chapter. Until you reach the back cover, dawn peeking over the horizon. Stover's a master angler, always in control. He'll hook you, string you along, and then gut you as you're flopping around on the bank gasping for air. A stone-cold writer. Don't even bother staring at him with pleading guppy eyes.

Books like Caine Black Knife don't come around often. Loud, obnoxious and wanting to punch your face in. Brutal as a brain aneurysm, Matthew Stover's ode to orneriness has one of the most disreputable main characters ever. And also one of the most thrilling. Riding around in Caine's head feels so dirty. So voyeuristic. Like piggybacking on a coal black heart. It makes an impression.

It leaves its indelible mark.

Final Grade: 82 out of 100

About the Author

Computer geek, mathematician, philosopher, blogger. Happily married, father of one. Always exhausted. You can read more of my reviews at Blood of the Muse.

i was told to leave a church lunch program,after i mentioned someone had a knife!! what r my legal options?

last thursday, while at the st columba's lunch program( washington dc) there was a man with a history of violents who had a knife clearly showing, me and the director (jim) seen the man with the weapon clearly,as he walked past us, (jim) acknowledged that was against the rules,but didn't say anything to the man with the knife, ,but TOLD ME TO LEAVE !!! the church has a no weapons of any kind policy and gives it to us in writing/ on paper .

You, friend, have the right to stay home.

You may have the privilege of attending a different church, but not the right.

LYDIA LUNCH KNIVES IN THE DRAIN

Tags: cooking, food, kitchen, knife, lunch_bag

This entry was posted on Monday, January 12th, 2009 at 4:45 pm and is filed under sterling silver. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.