Throne of the Crescent Moon (Crescent Moon Kingdoms Book 1)

Throne of the Crescent Moon by Saladin Ahmed is one of those odd little novels that crop up now and then that I'm reading along and mostly enjoying and by the end think, "hmm, that actually wasn't all that good a book. But . . . " And really, from a critical standpoint, Throne of the Crescent Moon doesn't have a lot going for it. And in some ways, it was a major disappointment. But . . .The plot is relatively straightforward. In the Arabian-like city of Dhamsawaat, the last ghul hunter, Doctor Abdoulla Makhslood, is beginning to feel all his many decades and thus is ready to contemplate retirement and a life of peace. But when the love of his life (whom he had to sacrifice for his calling) asks him to look into a recent ghul slaughter, Abdoulla gets pulled into a plot that could lead to Dhamsawaat's destruction and maybe even the end of The Crescent Moon Kingdoms, if not the world itself. Together with his assistant Raseed, a pious and celibate Dervish of great martial ability but not a lot of life experience; Zamia Badawi, a nomadic tribeswoman who can take the shape of a lion; and his two longtime friends Dawoud (a magus) and Litaz (an alchemist), the Doctor must take on a long-dormant evil. Complicating matters is the growing tension in the city as the new Khalif, cruel and corrupt, faces off against an upstart Robin-Hood type known only as The Falcon Prince.So a band of plucky, undermanned, outgunned, outnumbered, and somewhat distrustful of each other allies must fight off grotesque creatures of darkness in order to prevent a great evil from rising to power. So here is problem one--not the most original of storylines. The big picture plot is overly familiar and there aren't enough twists and turns in the details to really add much freshness.(originally reviewed as an ARC for fantasyliterature.com)Problem two is that the characters are pretty one-note and predictable. Raseed is self-righteous, young, and overly pious. Toss in celibate, add one pretty girl who can change into a lion, and you can see how his storyline will run throughout the book and what his dilemma will be. Zamia is a bitter, outcast loner distrustful of people who is thrown in with others against her desire. Will she stay a bitter loner or will she learn to play nice with others? What do you think? The Doctor's loyal, old friends are old and loyal and remark on this relatively often. The Doctor himself is feeling old, rues his sacrifices, and wishes he didn't have to do this anymore. As he tells us again and again, though we never doubt he will in fact do this. The bad guys are, well, bad. The Falcon Prince is perhaps the most complex, but I can't say much of what he does save one or two acts surprises all that much.Problem three is the worldbuilding, which is pretty slim save for the details of the great city of Dhamsawaat, which does come alive in those moments we get to see it through the Doctor's eyes. This is probably where I was most disappointed. I was really looking forward to an Arabia-based setting, as opposed to the same-old same-old medieval Western European setting we see so often. And as a huge fan of The Arabian Nights and similar tales, I was really looking forward to a fantastical menagerie with that slant. But while there were some nice little such touches (Abdoullah's love of cardamom tea, the ghuls, the scripture quotes), I didn't feel as steeped in the milieu as I wanted to feel.Somewhat in the same vein, I was hoping for a more foreign type of magic. Instead, the magic here felt very two-dimensional, as if the merest glimpse beneath its surface would make it all collapse.So an overly familiar plot riddled with the usual fantasy tropes and characters, sketchy world-building, predictable storylines, especially with two point-of-view characters (Zamia and Raseed), a weak magic structure, and somewhat cardboard villains. As I said, not a very good book at all. And yet . . .I'll be damned if I mostly didn't enjoy Throne of the Crescent Moon nearly all the way through. The reason is pretty simple--the Doctor himself. There was just something about the guy I really liked. Sure, he complained a lot about his age, his aches and pains, his desire to just chuck it all and retire. But I kinda liked the old complaining guy who'd rather be putting his feet up and letting the young'uns take care of the world schtick. I liked his warm interaction with this two old friends. I liked his sarcastic but fond kids-these-days put-downs of Raseed and Zamia, several of which made me laugh out loud. I liked his Arabian Frank Cannon/Columbo (and yes, I know I'm dating myself badly. Look `em up) feel. His character and voice carried me through the story, not so high above the flaws that they weren't noticeable, but high enough that they didn't catch me up and make me want to stop reading.So what to make of a not-so-well-written book that I liked anyway? Do I recommend Throne of the Crescent Moon because I did enjoy much of it and advise a pass since I thought much of it wasn't very good? I'm going to go with the former. Partially because I think expectations can play a role here, and if you go in with lowered expectations, knowing in advance you're going to get a very simple book (simple in plot, in character, in worldbuilding) with a taste, rather than a heaping helping, of Arabia, I think you'll have a better chance of enjoying it. And also because it's easy enough to figure out if the Doctor's character and voice will carry you through. If you find yourself not caring much for his voice, or you find his voice isn't outweighing the flaws, then I'd say don't feel bad about giving it up; you're not going to find much better going forward. Throne of the Crescent Moon ends with some resolution and some clear opportunity to see the Doctor again. I'll give him another shot, though I won't be expecting much from his friends and his story. Who knows, maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.

Science-fiction and fantasy stories are at their best when they truly fascinate, immersing the reader in new worlds or cultures. The best of the best will go one step further and encourage readers to more than fascination; they will engender an insatiable curiosity, the sincerest sympathy, and a boundless empathy. Saladin Ahmed’s tale of ghul hunters and mystics fighting ancient evils does exactly that.The book opens with a gruesome scene involving the antagonist, but quickly moves to introduce Doctor Adoulla Makhslood, the pure-white kaftan wearing ghul hunter of the city of Dhamsawaat. Here was a man I’d never met in any of the books I’ve read, and in a city I’d yet to visit either in truth or fiction.My curiosity piqued, I read on from the opening chapters to delve deeper into the tale of Adoulla and his companions. While Adoulla occupies center stage more often than the other characters, his brusque manner left plenty of room for me to identify more closely Adoulla’s friends, Dawoud Son-of-Wajeed, and Litaz Daughter-of-Likami of the Soo Republic to the east. Even more fascinating was the character of Adoulla’s assistant, the dervish, Raseed bas Raseed.I’m no devoted or pious follower of any faith, but I recognize and appreciate the values of discipline and devotion (you can take the man out of the Army, but …). Raseed’s strict behavior, and his internal struggles, paint a picture of a young man with a rigid concept of right and wrong (a young man I remember seeing in the mirror years ago). I found myself wanting to applaud Raseed’s insights when they matched up with my own thinking (everybody loves an ego reflector) and at the same time I could not deny a sense of admiration for Raseed when he stood strong in his values and refused a temptation to action or speech – restraint, discipline, and honor are the hallmarks of the dervishes in Saladin Ahmed’s world, and his most pious character was an exemplar of all three.The tribeswoman, Zamia Banu Laith Badawi, with her shapeshifter’s ability, was a refreshing sight as well – it’s not uncommon to have adolescent girls occupy places of power and agency in fiction, but Zamia’s genuine autonomy felt like a welcome change (maybe I’ve just been reading the wrong books).Saladin Ahmed has written a stellar tale of intrigue, suspense, and, at times, horror. The ghul maker only gets a few pages to his name, but they were among the most ghastly parts of the book. Thankfully, they are short and are clearly included not to horrify or shock, but to encourage greater sympathy with the protagonists: the bad guy is someone who absolutely must be stopped.I have never visited the regions to the east of the Mediterranean Sea. My only travels there have been through history classes, the occasional poem, and the ubiquitous news reels of our modern day. This news, at least in my home country, seems aimed at maintaining a view of the Middle East as being a hotbed of war, misogyny, religious fanaticism, and government corruption.Certainly those things are true of some areas in the Middle East, but the same could be said of my home country. More importantly, with all stories the whole truth contains so much more than we are first shown.That was my motivation for reading Saladin Ahmed’s book: to learn more about the one part of the world that has, for all of my years, been presented to me as a place I would never want to visit. Despite Throne of the Crescent Moon being a work of fiction, I had no doubt that I would learn from it. And learn I did.From the scenes of conviviality around tea and plates of food, to scenes of bustling markets, or quiet nights under the stars in the open desert, Ahmed’s story showed me visions of what I always knew to be true about the Middle East, but which I had allowed to be quelled and forgotten behind the news of the day. I turned the final page of Crescent Moon with a sense of being cut off from the Middle East, and from the vibrant, colorful, joyous, and wondrous scenes of life there. And I hoped that worldwide efforts might someday soon be truly joined in service to conviviality, to trade, and to peace.

In my younger days I read a fair bit of fantasy, most of it set in worlds drawn from the myths and history of northern Europe. In seeking to dip back into the genre, it was refreshing to have an novel recommended to me that took inspiration from a different source. Ahmed's debut novel fuses pseudo-Muslim beliefs with other myths sourced from the Arabic world, and the dry lands that form the Kingdoms of the Crescent Moon are all the more pleasing for it. Unfortunately that's where the originality ends, and the well thought out backdrop does nothing to combat the over-familiarity of the characters. They're a plot-driven bunch with only enough complexity as is needed to keep the story going, and for all the quirks of the fresh mythos on show their natures echoed Dungeons & Dragons flavoured heroes and heroines I've long been familiar with. It's the same old stuff, in different packaging. That's not to say the book isn't enjoyable - it's a well-paced and smartly written little swashbuckler - but in failing to match content to concept it doesn't live up to the sheer potential of the Big Idea behind it.

This was OK, but I struggled to connect with the main characters and felt the language didn't always flow - not sure if that was the original text or the translations.Wouldn't rush to pick up another book by this author.

Surprisingly enjoyable book. I like the way it was written. I say surprising because some of the other stories by this author was less interesting. The story itself was interersting and I look forward to a sequel.

a well written romp I guess. Lots of charm and easy to read. My wife loved it too.

Fast paced and engaging. I was hooked pretty quickly, despite the slightly clichéd plot and the rushed ending. The main character was enjoyably grouchy, and it was great to have a fresh environment for the story to play out in.