The Belgariad is one of my favourite fantasy series ever, and very probably my favourite one. But it does have problems. Here’s the good, the bad and the ugly of David Edding’s coming of age fantasy saga.
THE GOOD
THE CHARACTERS
Some people say the characters are one-dimensional – and to some extent they are. Most of them wouldn’t look out of place in a D&D roll call. But growing up, I felt like they were my friends. From Belgarath’s wisdom and irascibility to Silk’s constant stream of smart-ass remarks to Barak and Mandorallen’s grandeliquoence, they are great fun to be around. Even Ce’Nedra, with her spoilt, short temper, is redeemed by the way she is forced to come to terms with her feelings for Garion. David Eddings ensured he created characters to care about, and enjoy spending time with.
THE SETTING
The world is well-realised, with believable distances and geography. The history and theology is particularly well done, starting with the world’s creation and continuing through the schism between the gods and the assassination of the Rivan king. Right from the start, we as readers are well aware of the significance of the silvery birth mark on Garion’s palm, even if Garion himself is not.
THE COMING OF AGE STORY
At first, Garion struggles to come to terms with (first) the fact that he is a sorcerer. Like any teenager who is terribly against ‘having’ to do something, he rails and argues. About halfway through the series, there is a quietly profound moment, when he comes to accept his power and at the same point starts thinking about his grandfather as Belgarath, and not Mister Wolf anymore. It’s a beautiful, understated piece of writing.
Garion has a lot more to handle, from his ultimate destiny to his terrifying duty – and also his arranged marriage. Eddings handles them all skillfully and with great care. In a later Malloreon book, the dedication is to Lester Del Ray, his editor/publisher, to whom he writes something along the lines of ‘Between the two of us, we didn’t raise a bad boy’, meaning Garion. More about that later.
Humour
The banter between characters is often genuinely funny, with Silk in particular being a constant source of amusement. But there’s many other hilarious moments, including Barak’s fantastic retelling/reinvention of Garion’s fight for Maisie’s honour in Pawn of Prophecy, the moment when Garion tries to move the rock in the Vale in Magician’s Gambit and Silk’s reaction to his description on the wanted posters in Nadrak.
THE BAD
Sexism
The Belgariad is very much of its time. The female characters tend to fall into the overused tropes of women in fantasy stories of the late Seventies and early Eighties. Often, Polgara, one of the most powerful sorcerers (male or female) in Eddings’ world, is relegated to the role of camp cook. In some ways, it’s like Enid Blyton’s Famous Five, when Anne often took care of the cooking and cleaning. It even extends to the gods, all of whom are male. Even the ancient Greeks had goddesses!
Racial Stereotyping
Eddings created a complicated and vibrant world full of many different cultures and countries. Unfortunately, he took the lazy option by stereotyping them into national characteristics. As examples: Drasnians are sneaky spies, Tolnedrans are money-grabbing capitalists, and Sendarians are practical. And as for the countries in the East? Well, let’s just say the protaganists talk openly and wistfully about wiping them out – in other words, genocide.
Following a well-trodden path
Eddings spoke openly about being inspired by the Lord of the Rings. His companion volume The Rivan Codex gives a ‘write by numbers’ style approach to writing a heroic fantasy epic, listing the various character archetypes to include. The Belgariad’s plot follows two very familiar tropes – the Chosen One and the Prophecy. That said, the very adventures he creates for his characters, and the sheer level of humour among them, ensures that although he stands on Tolkien’s shoulders, he does so with verve.
The Ugly
As mentioned earlier, David Eddings wrote a really charming coming of age story. His writing showed real understanding of his characters. To some extent, Garions’s adolescence helped me through my own.
Yet ten years before his writing career began, along with his wife, Leigh, David Eddings was convicted of eleven counts of child abuse against their two adopted children. These included locking them in cages in their basement and clear evidence of beating them. They were both sentenced to one year in prison.
In light of that fact, reading and enjoying the Belgariad (and all Eddings’ other books) becomes a conscious act of separating the art from the artist. The Belgariad is a really lovely, charming series…but that knowledge does taint the reading experience. Rereading the books, at times I almost wondered if in some strange way Eddings was trying to atone for his crimes. It certainly makes you think about that dedication to his editor in a new light.
Should you reread them?
Personally, I enjoyed revisiting the books. They’re funny, quietly profound and exciting, sometimes scary and yet also cosy, all at the same time. But like I said, had to consciously separate the art from the artist.
David Eddings’ legacy is further muddied by the fact that he bequeathed over $30 million to two charities, one of them for research into childhood asthma. This benevelance does not negate his crime, but it does complicate opinions about him.
Leave a Reply