"The Purple Orb: A Gladdis of Rowenswood Tale" takes us into a world of ancient magic and hidden kingdoms, but Bishop is not just another author churning out elves, dwarves, and the occasional dragon with commitment issues. No, her wit is often sardonic enough to strip paint, and her use of language is so masterful it makes other fantasy authors look like they're working with crayons.
Bishop's prose is like music—and I don't mean the kind you hear in a dentist's waiting room. It's melodic in its pleasing sequence of scenes, harmonic in the way disparate plot threads combine into something greater than their parts, lyrical in its expressive poetry, and dynamic in its varying intensity, which adds remarkable depth to the narrative.
It's the kind of writing that makes you stop, reread a sentence, and think, "Damn, I wish I'd written that."
G. K. Bishop has opened the portal. Don't wait another minute; escape the mundane! Dive into "The Purple Orb" before the Fate Sisters decide you've had enough happiness for one day.
El'Zabet, Empyress of All the Realms, is only thirteen yet wise beyond her years—which is fortunate because being an Empyress at thirteen without wisdom would be a disaster rivaling my own life choices. She dreams of a young woman imprisoned by a filthy beast of a man, crying out for help. Can El'Zabet find the woman from her dreams before it's too late? Is her power great enough to seize the Purple Orb without destroying herself?
This is high fantasy where language itself becomes a character—and not a minor one, either. We're talking major speaking role here.
Enter Gladdis, a Dark Witch and Priestess of Kalidha-Axtah the Destroyer, who takes an interest in Empyress El'Zabet's quest. Gladdis has no patience for fools, which makes her my new literary hero. She's the kind of character who would take one look at most people's life decisions and simply set them on fire. Metaphorically. Probably.
Let me offer just one little whiff of Bishop's work to give you an idea of the novelty, the unexpected, the sheer audacity:
"Though feelings were quickly shielded, there remained a faint odor of shame in the chamber, which bears a resemblance to that of an inadvertent nether toot."
I mean, come on. This is fantasy literature describing emotional atmospheres in a brilliant sentence that makes you laugh out loud and then immediately text your friends about it.
And then there's this gem:
"The firebricks also retained warmth when the fire was low. Their cat was very impressed by this bit of human sorcery and granted unconditional approval to the responsible party. The rest of the winter, Gladdis had only to show her face at the door for the cat to begin purring loudly."
Bishop understands that winning a cat's approval is basically achieving god-tier status. This is the kind of detail that elevates fantasy from "sword goes clink" to fully formed believable beings.
When I began this review, I intended to say good things about an extremely well-written story with engaging characters and a thoroughly entertaining storyline. But that simply isn't enough for a book like this one. It's like describing a supernova as "quite bright" or the Grand Canyon as "a decent-sized hole." Mere words do NOT do G. Kay's writing justice.
In closing, the Fate Sisters may have dealt me a rough hand—and by rough, I mean they've been playing chess with my life while drunk and possibly blindfolded—but they delivered "The Purple Orb" as compensation. It's like getting mugged and then having the mugger hand you a winning lottery ticket out of guilt.
I recommend you hurry over to Amazon and order a copy right now. I don't merely recommend it—I recommend it like the Dickens himself! Like every literary ghost who ever lived is collectively haunting you until you click "Add to Cart."
Do it. The Dark Witch demands it. And you don't want to disappoint a Dark Witch. Trust me on this one.
