How do you review a book for which the current rating system with its maximum five stars looks so insufficient? That’s the dilemma facing me. And as much as I think I can’t do justice to it, words might convey what the five stars can’t: explain why exactly I came to love this.The Chronicles of Lymond had a very rough start for me, very rough; not so much for the usual reasons as for the protagonist character himself, and I was highly sceptical of the day I’d adore the series ever arriving. Like it, maybe. Love it, unlikely. Yet that day has arrived, and after "Pawn in Frankincense," there’s a place for Francis Crawford of Lymond and Sevigny in my very short list of favourite literary characters.All right, all right, that’s too solemn a way to put it. I have a crush on him, I bloody love him!Done, that’s better now. Forward to the review, bos’n.When the book opens, we see him through the unsentimental point of view of Philippa Somerville, the girl that hated him for long, and the circumstances are so deceptively decadent that we’re ready once more to place Lymond back so neatly in his little incurable rake box: he’s gambling at a bathhouse with a dubious personage . . . and some nuns. Could it look any more debauched? Yet hardly a couple of pages go by before we learn that, as it’s a rule in Dunnett’s books, nothing is as bad or as good as it appears, and Lymond is really on a mission that has for a purpose to recover a child born in the Turkish harem of Dragut whose parentage is part of the plotline’s mysteries. Off we go then on another adventure sailing out of Lyons, with a troupe including headstrong Philippa, loyal and tortured Jerott, ambiguous Marthe, even more ambiguous Kiaya Khatún, tightfisted Gaultier, trusty Salablanca, and sickly-sweet solicitous Onophrion. This voyage will take them along the coast of the Moslem-ruled parts of the Mediterranean, chasing the child Khaireddin from one place to the next barely stopping to catch their breath, always finding his trace, always getting within arm’s reach of him, and always crashing down when about to snatch him from his kidnappers. It’s a mad game in which the personage behind the kidnapping dangles Khaireddin as a carrot before the Scots hare to keep him racing against time and hope. People die, people betray, people hold fast to friends, and people love during this years-long race that concludes in the most exotic of places, the seraglio of sultan Suleiman the Magnificent in Constantinople. There, Lymond and his nemesis see each other and have to play chess with human lives; it’s an astoundingly brilliant scene that will put Lymond in the impossible position of playing God with living and breathing pawns. He is a genius at chess, yes, but is encumbered by the burden of scruples, a disadvantage in this circumstance. The decisions he makes are therefore sure to break the readers’ heart. That’s as much as can be said without spoiling everyone roundly.The pace of this storyline is sprightly and rarely allows the reader moments of pause, and the revelations come in so quick and fast as in a long line of ducks ready to shoot. I’d joked that Dunnett had pulled the rug from under me so many times that I was collecting bruises, and as hyperbolic as that might sound, it does illustrate how surprising the twists were. I didn’t expect nor guess practically any but one, which is disgraceful for my poor analytic skills, but with a writer like this one, I don’t mind feeling all fooled and silly. It’s even part of the charm of these books by this point. Does it speak for the extent of my conversion that I’ve come to have an indulgent soft spot for the rhymes and the often unintelligible quotes that frustrate so many? Yes, that’s actually happened. I don’t know from where they come and for the most part not even what they’re about really, but there are some that I liked, such as the one Lymond sings to Marthe. Speaking of, the female characters are strong in this narrative, a very appreciated bonus in a genre that tends by one reason or another to feature mostly males. To the likes of Lady Sybilla, Christian and Kate from previous installments we have to add Marthe and Philippa now. Both are so well-defined, each in their own consistent characterisation, and add the commonsense touch to the testosterone-driven swashbuckling, and in some instances even save the day for the whole group. Philippa, to me, has added a new dimension to the phrase “The things we do for love” that strips it of its negativity whilst keeping the undercurrent allusion to sacrifice. One can’t help but love her personality, her practicality and no-nonsense worldview, a much needed anchor to reality that was so needed in these books.No, I can’t do justice to this book… You will have to read it and submerge yourself into the plot, and see with what emotions you emerge at the end. To me, this deserves to be more widely read and appreciated, so paraphrasing the wise words of Gandalf: Run, people, run to read this now!
Pawn in Frankincense opens up shortly after the end of The Disorderly Knights, as Jerrott and Philippa track down Lymond on his search to find Francis' child, stolen by renegade Knight Graham Reed Malett and hidden somewhere in the heart of the Ottoman Empire. Francis uses his position as an emissary of France delivering gifts to Suleiman the Magnificent as an entrée into the mysterious world of the east as he and his companions continue their desperate search for Lymond's son. However, the deliciously evil Graham's schemes lead them on from one false lead to another, as the web is spun to bring Francis and troops further into Graham's evil web. Nothing and no one is as they seem, and the author throws many red herrings and surprises into her tale and eventually we discover that there are two blond, blue eyed children being sought. One child is Francis', who is father of the other? Although separated, Lymond and his followers all end up in Constantinople, as Graham's plots come to fruition and Lymond, Jerrott, Archie and the mysterious Marthe with the striking resemblance to Lymond begin the fight of their lives in a real life chess game with deadly consequences for any who are "captured", and Francis battles to maintain his wits against the deadly addiction Graham's schemes have unknowingly afflicted him with. As with the first three books in the series, Francis Crawford is a fascinating hero, and is as suave, debonair, flawed and fascinating as only a 16th Century version of James Bond could be. This book is filled with non-stop action and suspense and ends with quite a big surprise of a cliffhanger which will send the reader reaching for the next book in the series, The Ringed Castle (Lymond Chronicles, 5). A solid five stars and my favorite so far in the series.
Do You like book Pawn In Frankincense (1997)?
A perfect, horrible book.(Anyone who's read it knows exactly what I mean. For those who haven't: the structure, urgency and clarity of the previous three books can be faulted; this one, no. It's completely readable and enticing down through the part where your nails are digging holes in your palms.I meant to say something about Lymond and point of view, and I'd forgotten that this book barely ever gets into his head either: the dreadful climax is seen from Jerott's perspective. I love Jerott, even when he's a little snot, and I adore Philippa without qualification, so having them tell most of the story is a good move. However, I think the series suffers somewhat from keeping the reader away from Lymond's thoughts. It was a technique necessary for the big reveal in Game of Kings, that became a habit, and by this point it's just silly: he's not that much of a mystery man anymore. But I'll think that over some more as I read the last two.)
—Erica Smith
Holy smokin' story! I nearly had a heart attack several times and if I hadn't been at work, I would've sobbed my eyeballs out.And of course, now I can't stop, so planned November reads??? Bye-bye! This series is absolutely wonderful. Why are people surprised that Lymond loves? Of course he does -- so intensely he just can't show it.I can't say anything at all without it being a spoiler...Lymond takes a gift to Sultan Suleiman in Istanbul from the King of France chasing his bastard son before the baby is murdered by the totally evil Graham Mallett. As always we see him through everyone's eyes but his. New characters and old, ever fascinating and richly drawn. Incredible detail of the riches and cruelties of the Islamic countries of that time. The looting of Hagia Sophia, the maze of the Seraglio where the harem is kept, the polishing of Phillippa - his old friend's daughter from previous books. All of it fine, beautiful, terrifying, and achingly sad. 11/17/10 I'm adding this bit from a blog post that was lifted by someone else in a yahoo group devoted to Dorothy Dunnett because it so much says how I feel/felt about these boooks: Unfortunately the 'lifter' didn't give a source so I can't either. But anyone who grows to know and love Francis Crawford of Lymond will be able to relate.“It’s a good thing she’s dead.” It was my friend Nora on the phone. Not hello, Penelope, this is Nora, how are you? Just “It’s a good thing she’s dead, or I’d kill her.”I’d bugged Nora to read the Lymond Chronicles, raving that it was the most intense reading experience of my life. Now Nora had just finished book four, Pawn in Frankincense. She was crying, she was raging, and she wanted nothing better than to throttle Dorothy Dunnett. I knew how she felt.Lymond is my favorite sort of hero: the tormented mastermind. He is a poet, musician, mathematical genius, and the greatest military mind of his day. He is witty in at least a dozen languages. He is also so racked by self-loathing that he repeatedly tries to goad otherwise nice people into killing him. He commits appalling acts for reasons that may become clear only hundreds of pages later into the story. Which brings me back to Nora’s phone call. Dunnett inflicts some cruel sucker punches on her readers. This is embarrassing to admit, but at onepoint, I screamed “Traitor!,” threw the book across the room, and began wailing in grief. My bewildered husband tried to comfort me, saying “But it’s only a story.” Only a story? For the past six weeks, it had been my life.
—Sandra
This is my second time through the Lymond Chronicles. I read them for the first time about a decade previous. Turns out, for me, that's about the perfect amount of time to have forgotten many of the twists and turns. So it's been a joy to reread them and fall in love with Lymond all over again. Ms. Dunnett has a knack for not telling the whole story right up front, she's always got a trick or two up her sleeve. So if you come to the end of this book and feel that Lymond has become something of an anti-hero; well,that's understandable. But I suggest that you keep reading. I'm about to start book 5 now, and while I can't recall exactly all that's coming I'm pretty sure that there is some redeeming on the horizon.Book 4 is full of adventure as Lymond and his cadre traipse across the Levant searching for two lost children. As always with Dunnett, the novel is extremely well researched and well written. The characters are complex and compelling and there are chases, and fights, and sneaky, clever villans (and heros) around every corner. Phillippa comes into her own in this novel and proves a reliable and stalwart friend. Lymond is ever tortured and yet superhuman in his ability to rise to the challenges, both physical and mental, that the evil Graham Mallett places before him. The chess metaphor that runs through all the novels, takes on a new meaning in this volume, and is one of the bits I did remember from my previous reading of the novel... so it is truly unforgettable. Love Dorothy Dunnett. She's one of the few authors who continuously surprises me! (even if the surprises are not always sweetness and light).
—Susan
