We all have our favorites. Some of us cook. Some of us write We likely all like to read. I think my momma was the best cook ever. I’m sure there are one or two others who would agree with me. I read a lot. I have a lot of favorite authors. Gene Wolfe, who died recently is one. Hunter S Thompson has inspired me since someone stuck Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas in my hand and told me I just had to read it, and of course I’ve recently become enamoured of The Bruno Detective Series, written by Martin Walker because of the fine writing, much of which is about cooking. Last time I moved I gave ten bankers boxes full of paperbacks to the Goodwill store. Not the first or only time I’ve had to pair down my collection because I was running out of space and my place looked like I was a hoarder. But out of all my favorites, including Pound and Eliot, Hemingway and Fitzgerald, Guy Gavriel Kay is the best I’ve ever read. He writes slightly altered historical fiction that takes place in far away lands, but his characters are very dangerously human. If you read him, you will weep, not cry. He knows us. He knows what we fear. What we love. What we’ve done. What we are ashamed of. His prose is lyrical, and grave, and direct. It’s been three years since his last book, and yes, I am always afraid that each book will be his last, or the last I have a chance to read. Some of his books are paired, and should be read in order. This one is stand alone. It references past books, but it is okay if you haven’t yet read them yet, because they are far removed on the timeline. These are, after all, historical tales. And this book is one of his finest.