Author Gush: Sapkowski and The Last Wish
Toss a Coin to Your Witcher
I’ll not lie to you, dear reader, The Last Wish may be one of my favorite books of all time.
Put aside what empty fallacies you were told about the Witcher universe in Netflix’s atrociously botched adaptation. That show’s portrayal of the source material came as close to authenticity as Icarus did to the sun, by which I mean not really all that close in the grand scheme of things and yet still somehow close enough for its hubris to cause its plummeting to a poetically justifiable death.
Cough. Cough. Anyway.
If you’ve been around these parts before you’re likely aware I’m a rather large fan of full blown fantasy epics yet I’m not averse to indulging in a short story here and there. Rarely, however, does a collection of short stories tickle that particular reader’s itch of mine (jumping from one story to the next…it just leaves me wanting more of each and leaves me feeling somehow dirty, sullied, as if I’ve just voluntarily given myself the literary equivalent of blue-balls). Rarer still is a collection of short stories that attempts to tell individual vignettes while weaving a common story thread throughout the whole thing. Rarest of all is the collection that attempts such feats and manages to not shit itself.
Shockingly, Sapkowski not only doesn’t fail but succeeds in his attempt with flying colors.
If you haven’t picked this one up you owe it to yourself to rectify that mistake as soon as possible. Sapkowski’s writings skirt across familiar western-fantasy tropes, using them as a master angler might use a particular jig to entice a hungry fish to come nibble at an awaiting hook. Right when you bite down disinterestedly on the image of knights and elves and all fairy tale things BAM you get the addition of Geralt of Rivia. He’s curt, he has a code, and Melitle damn it if he isn’t a bit of a closet romantic.
There’s a lot to like here, dear reader, and I personally get the same vibe from The Last Wish as I get from Stephen King’s The Gunslinger, that is to say: crisp, lean, and biting narration followed by kickass action with not a moment wasted in between.
There is a distinctly eastern European tone which is a welcoming change of pace to more westerly readers (though some may find it jarring at first). Sapkowski is Polish and his world is unabashedly influenced by Slavic culture and mythology (all for the better I assure you). This fresh mythos combined with a disconcertingly applicable message about discrimination ensures that you’ll be entertained and get hit in the feels in equal measure.
And isn’t that just what you want in a book?
You’ll laugh, you’ll sigh, you’ll feel educated enough on the principles of social prejudice to ponder the real world implications over a glass of scotch before a low-burning fire.
And you’ll want that scotch, dear reader, for just all of the reasons.
Or, if you’re feeling more thematically-accurate, you could just throw back a cup of vodka and then curse in Germany’s general direction.
Like, whatever floats your boat, man. I’m not here to judge.