2014 read #119: Tailchaser's Song by Tad Williams.

Tailchaser's Song by Tad Williams
387 pages
Published 1985
Read from December 8 to December 11
Rating: ★★ out of 5

Tad Williams, not so long ago, was among my favorite authors. I sped through his Otherland series in '05, read The War of the Flowers first thing in '06, got hooked on the Memory, Sorrow and Thorn trilogy in '07. Williams had a distinct problem with finishing his epic narratives in a satisfactory way, but before that point, the meat of his novels was inventive, colorful, and absorbing, gadding about rich and detailed worlds full of memorable imagery, more than enough in those less-cultivated days to make a fan of me. That warm fuzzy fondness persisted until early last year, when I had the misfortune of picking up The Dirty Streets of Heaven. It's the first volume in a "noir fantasy thriller" series centering on a sleazy angel named Bobby Dollar. As can be expected, I made it halfway down the second page before I couldn't take it anymore and (figuratively) threw it across the room. Not to put too fine a point on it, but that book (the first page, at any rate, not that I expect it improved with prolonged exposure) was shit. And for some unknowable reason, my library kept buying up each new volume as it appeared, souring my opinion of Williams every time I was reminded of their existence.

But a couple months back, Williams or his agent or somebody released word that Williams was working on a follow-up to Memory, Sorrow and Thorn. With my expectations so battered, I couldn't muster more than cautious pessimism about the prospect of the new storyline. But the thought of returning to the world of Osten Ard -- now that's tempting. And so Tad Williams has been lurking in the back of my mind lately. Which led to ordering this book from ILL.

The inevitable comparisons are to Watership Down -- and indeed, the first half or so of Tailchaser's Song gamely builds up the world, culture, and lore of the feline Folk in a manner not especially dissimilar to Richard Adams' go-to classic. It's not at the same level as Watership Down, even at its best, but there's an earnest charm that helps smooth over Williams' novice prose and languorous pacing. The second half of Tailchaser's Song, alas, is less Watership Down and more watered-down Tolkien imitation, descending into dreary sword 'n' sorcery guff and endless, endless dungeons in the dank earth -- because apparently the fallen feline demigod can breathe life into super-size orc-cats and blind snake-cats and spooky mummy-cats, but can't breed digging-cats with useful burrowing paws to further his nefarious evil schemes of evil, so he has to round up surface cats to slave in his tunnels with their ineffectual paws. But don't worry, the forest friends our hero won during his journey owe him a favor and carry the message to summon the bluff and hearty cat-prince who comes to the rescue, and the crazed wandering old cat turns out to be another cat demigod and our hero saves the day by reminding him who he is by fortuitously remembering a rhyme to say when he's in a tight spot. The second half of Tailchaser is, in a word, awful. It's no wonder the most prominent blurb on the cover is from Cat Fancy: only people who've never had cause to pick up a fantasy book before this could give it heartfelt praise.

But hey, this was Williams' first novel -- and it was the mid-'80s, which was a simpler time (especially in fantasy publishing). The cats' folklore was a nice running thread, and I liked the little glimpses into the cosmology and language of other animal folk, especially the brief (and honestly superfluous) encounter with Mother Rebum, eldest of the frogs.