Writing & Storytelling Lessons from "The Devils" by Joe Abercrombie
Happy Halloween. Here are some demons. Oh, and writing advice tucked into a book review.
When I travel, one of my favorite things to do is find a local bookshop and buy a few titles. Books are good travel mementos, and I often find myself recalling where I was when I bought each one as I stroll past my bookshelves.
The last time I was in Boston for work, I stopped by Trident Booksellers over in Back Bay and picked up four or five books. I’ve been wanting to get back into reading speculative fiction more consistently, and I love covers that don’t try to do too much while still giving a strong impression of the story. For that reason, The Devils stood out to me.
Now that I’ve finished reading it, I wanted to reflect on some of the craft-focused takeaways that stood out to me. In general, it was a fairly good book, but there were parts that I found poorly executed, and I want to highlight those as writing lessons about what goes into telling compelling stories.
Be forewarned that from here on out, you should expect spoilers.
What Worked Well
If I were to rate The Devils on a scale of 1-5, I’d give it a three. I certainly had issues with it, but I’d say that overall I had fun with the book and wouldn’t consider it a candidate for the DNF pile. Abercrombie makes some interesting narrative decisions worth noting, and he successfully pulls off an ensemble cast with POV pivots that are well executed.
Reimagining the “Prodigal Royal”
Plenty of fantasy books that I’ve read in my day have centered around a prince or princess who has been ejected from their kingdom– be it through war, political upheaval, usurpation, or being ferreted away at birth for their own safety.
For much of The Devils, you trod that familiar territory. Alex finds herself thrust into events outside of her control when a man finds her on the streets (as she’s about to be mutilated for not paying back her debts, no less), and claims that she is not just a grubby thief and street rat, she’s actually Princess Alexia Pyrogennetos, the rightful heir to the Serpent Throne of Troy.
From there, Alex is vaguely affirmed as someone who can claim the throne and unite the Eastern and Western church against the threat of the elves (more on that later), and embarks on a journey to reclaim “her” lost kingdom in the company of the eponymous devils of the book’s title.
Where things diverge from the standard prodigal royal trope is that later in the book, once Alex is already in Troy and effectively starting her rule, she reveals to her romantic interest in the narrative that she’s not the real Alexia Pyrogenettos, and that the real Alexia had died during a period of plague, and Alex had taken on her identity, not realizing who she actually was.
To make this twist go even further, Abercrombie seems to intentionally leave that plot line alone. It comes up as a detail to highlight Alex’s fearfulness and solidify the image she has of herself as a pretender, while also really driving home that she truly has gone from rags to riches, but her confession doesn’t become a major plot point. As a reader, my expectation was that there’d be a subplot in which the true nature of her identity is threatened to be revealed, or there’d be some kind of intervention in which others learn her secret but decide she should keep the throne anyway. But none of that happens– the secret comes out and then sort of dissipates. It’s a subversion of expectations that leads readers to expect more tension in an already tense situation, without introducing new plotlines or conflicts.
Ensemble Cast with Diverse Voices
In addition to the plot subtleties Abercrombie incorporates, another aspect of the book I really appreciated is that he carries a fairly large ensemble cast, frequently shifting between them from chapter to chapter, and still keeps the narrative moving forward while making each character’s voice and perspective unique.
Brother Diaz, Alex, Vigga/ the Vigga Wolf, Jakob of Thorn, Baptiste, Balthazar, and Sunny all get their turn in the spotlight (maybe Baron Rikard, too, but I honestly don’t recall if there are any chapters explicitly told through his perspective). Each time the POV character shifts, so does the tone of the writing. It’s easy to identify the POV character before anything is explicitly stated because each character has a distinct voice.
That’s not easy to do.
I think what anchors the character switching and large cast of characters really well is that Alex is the protagonist, and the other characters fit into the narrative in ways that support and centralize Alex’s character. Within the book's logic and lore, they are there to support Alex because they are bound by the pope's magic, a little girl who may or may not be the second coming of the savior. From a storytelling perspective, however, this framework ensures that, even as the narrative pivots, characters remain anchored in supporting a common goal, some more reluctantly than others.
Having each character take center stage in our vantage point as readers provides us with a better insight into each person’s worldview and individual character arc. For characters like Vigga, for example, we also get a clearer sense of why they are the way they are– her common refrain of “even before the bite,” the way her thoughts are fleeting and circuitous, the way she wrestles with letting the wolf take over, and so on.
What Didn’t Work as Well
Before getting into any discussion of what I didn’t think worked particularly well in the novel, I want to be clear that I’m not diminishing Abercrombie’s skill or success, and I certainly don’t want to heap negativity on him or his work. Instead, I want to approach this through the lens of writing craft and why certain aspects didn’t land as well.
Overwrought Characterizations
While the ensemble cast was a net benefit to the novel, I think there were times when the characterization became overdone. How many times did we need to hear Vigga talk about her “twat” and her sex drive for it to get across that she’s animalistic because she’s a werewolf? Or Baptiste’s constant “oh, I once…” list of experiences that started off as charming and quirky, but quickly turned into an “I GOT IT” reaction? Oh, and did you know Balthazar is arrogant? You probably couldn’t tell from the fact that he referred to himself in the third person and as one of the three most impressive necromancers in Europe, constantly.
The characters' variance was fun, but it didn’t feel like they really went anywhere. The sum of the devils’ arcs is that they chose to help Alex during the novel’s climax rather than return to the Holy City right away. Other than that, we don’t really see them grow much over the course of the novel. Maybe there’s commentary to be made about them being constrained by their true nature, but with how much airtime each character got, you’d expect to have that electric third rail in which each of them had their own arc. Instead, what we got was more like a Marvel movie, with several potentially gripping characters vying for attention and ultimately revealing no real depth or compelling reason to root for them.
The Elves’ Plotline was Underdeveloped
Throughout the book, there were several references to the elves of the east and the threat that they posed to Europe. They’re described as bloodthirsty, vicious, subhuman creatures who are forces of primeval destruction and harm. At the same time, the quietest, gentlest member of the ensemble cast of protagonists is… an elf.
Abercrombie seemed to be setting up the elves and the way they’re discussed as almost a metaphor for how Arabs and Muslims were depicted during the Catholic Church’s Inquisitions; their depiction was less of an accurate assessment and more a garbage bin full of propaganda.
And so, I expected that to be a point that’s better emphasized throughout the novel. Everything seems to be pointing toward an arc where characters are able to identify their own biases, or at least question their assumptions, about elves. While our central protagonist develops romantic feelings for Sunny, the elf of the group, by the end of the novel, she seems to still perpetuate the belief that elves, collectively, are bloodthirsty and subhuman. Jakob of Thorn seems to be the only character with a metered view of elves. Having fought in previous crusades, he’s one of the few characters with firsthand experience fighting against elves. Yet when asked if elves are as cruel and evil as people say, he indicates that they’re no more evil than humans, which is to say, yes, they are.
The plotline about elves and the parallels to real-world Islamophobia just feel underdeveloped and incomplete.
Perhaps Abercrombie is setting us up for a sequel in which this subplot moves front and center, and then that’s where things start to get unpacked. In lieu of a sequel, though, things just feel incomplete and unsatisfying on this front.
Final Thoughts
Overall, The Devils was a solid book and a fun read. It did get a bit repetitive at times, and the conclusion wasn’t as satisfying as I had hoped, but it’s definitely still worth picking up. If Abercrombie does follow it with a sequel, I’d probably read it.
For writers, especially those of us who don’t have the platform and track record of Joe Abercrombie, what does and doesn’t work particularly well in the novel serves to underscore the core elements of craft we have to take into consideration to ensure that our own work lands.
Always have a central protagonist. Even in an ensemble cast, you need someone whose story anchors everything else.
If you’re going to leverage tropes and archetypes, give them a twist. Subverting reader expectations can be a great way to add tension and keep readers engaged.
Avoid dangling plotlines. Creating mystery and allowing readers to fill in the gaps can be an effective way to engage audiences in the act of worldbuilding. In fact, it’s one of the fundamental principles behind building fandoms. But when character arcs are incomplete– when the electricity of that character-driven third rail is missing– plotlines can feel less like opportunities to fill in the blanks and more like unsatisfying conclusions.