Call number
Genres
Publication
New York : Ace Books 1999.
Pages
306
Description
As a child, Rook had been taken in by the bards of Luly, and raised as one of their own. Of his past he knew nothing -- except faint memories of fire and death that he'd do anything to forget. But nightmares, and a new threat to the island that had become his own, would not let him escape the dreaded fate of his true family. Haunted by the music of the bards, he left the only home he knew to wander the land of the power-hungry basilisk who had destroyed his family. And perhaps, finally, to find a future in the fulfillment of his forgotten destiny.
Awards
Mythopoeic Awards (Finalist — Adult Literature — 1999)
SF Site Reader's Choice (1998)
SF Site Editor's Choice (1998)
Language
Original language
English
Original publication date
1998
Physical description
306 p.; 6.5 inches
ISBN
0441006787 / 9780441006786
UPC
072742006992
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User reviews
LibraryThing member ncgraham
Patricia McKillip is an incredibly consistent writer. From The Forgotten Beasts of Eld, one of her earliest successes, to her latest, The Bell at Sealey Head, her novels stand out for the preternatural beauty of her prose, thoughtful characterizations, clever plotting, and many other virtues. Song
Thirty-seven years before the action of the story, the ruthless Arioso Pellior (nicknamed “the Basilisk”) destroyed the rival house of Tormalyne in a terrible bloodbath; however, one child escaped. Renamed Rook, he was taken to be raised by the bards of Luly, a great rock island in the north where music and magic seem to almost become one. Growing into adulthood, falling in love, and even fathering a son, Rook tries to forget his past. But like a flame it again spouts up before him. Soon he finds himself traveling south, bent on revenge. But as this is a McKillip novel, Rook’s story is only one thread in a larger pattern. In Berylon, the great city where the Pellior and Tormalyne palaces are located, rebels are stirring, hoping to overthrow the Basilisk. Meanwhile, he is up to his old tricks, poisoning and otherwise disposing of possible political threats, sometimes with the help of his daughter Luna. Court composer Hexel Barr has a problem of his own: he must compose an opera by Prince Arioso’s birthday, and the leading role must go to one of the prince’s other daughters, the tone-deaf Damiet!
All of the figures that people the pages of this novel are interesting in and of themselves, but two in particular stand out. Luna Pellior, with her unreadable, mask-like face and dubious intentions, is just the sort of ambiguous character that McKillip thrives at creating. More surprising is her sister Damiet, a splendid comic character who is more concerned about the color of her dress than whether she can sing her notes on key.
But even more than the characters, even more than the music, what struck me about this novel was the chapter set in the Hinterlands. Given that McKillip has referred to the other novels from this period of her career (Winter Rose and The Book of Atrix Wolfe) as “faerie tales,” I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to say that the Hinterlands themselves are an incarnation of Faerie. In this chapter McKillip is able to indulge her love of symbolism and dreamy lyricism to a remarkable to degree. In a way, it reminded me of George MacDonald at his best.
As with most of the author’s work, this is a book I can see myself returning to.
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for the Basilisk is a favorite of many, and I enjoyed it very much while I was reading it, but the fact that I can’t remember much of it now probably says something about its relative merits. Still, as always, it’s hard to go wrong with McKillip.Thirty-seven years before the action of the story, the ruthless Arioso Pellior (nicknamed “the Basilisk”) destroyed the rival house of Tormalyne in a terrible bloodbath; however, one child escaped. Renamed Rook, he was taken to be raised by the bards of Luly, a great rock island in the north where music and magic seem to almost become one. Growing into adulthood, falling in love, and even fathering a son, Rook tries to forget his past. But like a flame it again spouts up before him. Soon he finds himself traveling south, bent on revenge. But as this is a McKillip novel, Rook’s story is only one thread in a larger pattern. In Berylon, the great city where the Pellior and Tormalyne palaces are located, rebels are stirring, hoping to overthrow the Basilisk. Meanwhile, he is up to his old tricks, poisoning and otherwise disposing of possible political threats, sometimes with the help of his daughter Luna. Court composer Hexel Barr has a problem of his own: he must compose an opera by Prince Arioso’s birthday, and the leading role must go to one of the prince’s other daughters, the tone-deaf Damiet!
All of the figures that people the pages of this novel are interesting in and of themselves, but two in particular stand out. Luna Pellior, with her unreadable, mask-like face and dubious intentions, is just the sort of ambiguous character that McKillip thrives at creating. More surprising is her sister Damiet, a splendid comic character who is more concerned about the color of her dress than whether she can sing her notes on key.
But even more than the characters, even more than the music, what struck me about this novel was the chapter set in the Hinterlands. Given that McKillip has referred to the other novels from this period of her career (Winter Rose and The Book of Atrix Wolfe) as “faerie tales,” I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to say that the Hinterlands themselves are an incarnation of Faerie. In this chapter McKillip is able to indulge her love of symbolism and dreamy lyricism to a remarkable to degree. In a way, it reminded me of George MacDonald at his best.
As with most of the author’s work, this is a book I can see myself returning to.
Show Less
LibraryThing member librisissimo
A renaissance-clone fantasy world, with magic of course. The plot is not always predictable, the final twist is satisfying. The narration is as lyrical and murky as usual for McKillip, but not overly obscure.
LibraryThing member mfieldswriter
I love this story so far. Full of mystery and plotting, all within the rich writing style of McKillip's other books. She makes me care about the characters so that I think of them even when I'm not reading.
The story was extremely compelling to me, with enough left unsaid that I stayed up too late
The story was extremely compelling to me, with enough left unsaid that I stayed up too late
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reading to see how she could possibly resolve it all. Like McKillip's other books, the magic is so subtle and interwoven into the characters that it seems dream-like. I love that. Show Less
LibraryThing member AltheaAnn
Wow. It is rare to read a book that verges on "perfect" – but more often than not, that book will be one by McKillip. "Song for the Basilisk" is definitely one of her best. In a pseudo-Renaissance setting, rivalry flares into violence, and House Berylon, whose symbol is the basilisk, overthrows
McKillip's writing is deeply symbolic and poetically beautiful, but always readable and also not without humor.
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and slaughters House Tormalyne, whose symbol is the griffin. However, unbeknownst to the Basilisk, the heir to House Tormalyne survives. His relatives find him, and secretly send the boy to a remote island music school, renaming him Caladrius, "the bird whose song means death." Traumatized by his experience, the boy does not remember his heritage, and grows up with no desire to leave the island. He finds love, and has a son. But when, after years, both woman and son grow restless with his stay-at-home ways, and leave for the mainland, he begins to remember that he is Griffin Tormalyne... and destiny (or a desire simply for revenge) draws him back to House Berylon, where he finds a place as a music librarian, cataloguing the items stolen from Tormalyne. His son also finds himself there... and the musician and teacher Giulia begins to suspect there is more to these people than she might have guessed, as plots and intimations of revolution begin to swirl...McKillip's writing is deeply symbolic and poetically beautiful, but always readable and also not without humor.
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