I like to think of myself as a pretty switched on person, genre-wise. I run a magazine dedicated to that very subject, in all of its wondrously infinite variety, after all. And yet, I am aware that there is a lot of output released that simply flies over my head, past my notice or beneath my radar; I’m no Mr. Universe (“Can’t stop the signal, Mal!”), no omniscient, godlike being or android equipped to absorb all data. Occasionally, there are bound to be gaps in my awareness, events that I simply did not register as they occured. That, after all is, life, and while the vastness of the internet and the convenience of our smart phones may occasionally make it feel as though we can, and should, be on top of everything in this world, we simply cannot. This is a limitation of my mere humanity that I have come to accept with some reluctance, but accept it I have.

And yet.

How, I demand of you no less than myself, could I have missed something so important, so awe-inspiring as The Left Hand of God? I am truly ashamed to have been so behindhand that it is only with the forthcoming release of its sequel, The Last Four Things, that I came to know of a) this book’s existence and b) it’s sheer and utter brilliance.

‘Cause… man. Brilliant.

The Left Hand of God is the story of Cale, an young man raised in the austere confines of the Sanctuary, which sounds like it might be a good thing but, uh, no. Run by the Redeemers, an order of pitiless and aggressively pious monks who are all very “spare the rod, spoil the child”, Cale and his contemporaries are cold, hungry, frightened and in pain pretty much all the time. But things are even worse for Cale; he has been singled out for special attention by the Lord Militant Bosco, who vacillates between favoring Cale and victimizing him, teaching him special subjects denied the other boys but also beating him repeatedly and with every evidence of satisfaction for even the most minor of infractions -- or none at all.

Long having dreamt of freedom, the cold and calculating Cale soon has no choice but to enact a crazy plan, when a foolish but kind-hearted act has him fearing for his life. Out of the monks’ control for the first time, he and his fellow escapees soon fall into the company of the privileged, wealthy and aristocratic. Cale makes a few friends and a whole lot of enemies, falls in love and learns the ways of a kinder, gentler torture. The escaped acolytes skills in battle, long honed by the Redeemers (not a turn-the-other-cheek-y kind of religion, those guys), come in handy -- particularly Cale’s preternatural talent for casual slaughter -- and soon great armies are joined, wars are waged, seemingly all for the purpose of returning Cale to the Bosco’s tender ministrations, for a mysterious purpose we know not what.

Seriously, if you can begin this book and then put it down, like, at all, then you’re a stronger person than I am.

One thing I am hard-pressed to explain here, however, is just exactly what subgenre The Left Hand of God fits into. I’ve seen it mentioned in the same breath as various Epic Fantasies, even drawing comparison to George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones, and I hate to be a purist about it, but… there’s no magic. Nary a dwarf or an elf or a hybrid creature; I don’t even recall there being any red-heads in here, and as we all know, Fantasy just isn’t Fantasy without at least one of them. I guess the destined nature of Cale’s purpose could tip this book over into the mystical, but for the most part I would tend to look on it as Alternate History… or very possibly, it's post-apocalyptic.  There are place names we recognize, and people’s names too. There are races and religions that are familiar (and stereotypes, too; did we really need all the financiers to be Jewish?), but then also much that is entirely not of our world, as well. A major tussle is won in a very historical fashion for any student of the Battle of Agincourt, and yet the ongoing war of the Redeemers against the enigmatic Antagonists (for whom you will, of course, be cheering, since they so oppose the vile Redeemers, and have done for a hundred years) rings no bells, even if the interpretation of their Holy Hanged Redeemer does strike a chord or two.

Now, I am not Catholic. Or, indeed, anything. But even I was somewhat taken aback by the anti-Church sentiments expressed by our author, from the very first chapter. Even Christopher Hitchens digs on organized religion more than this guy. From the brutality towards captive children to the secretive and corrupt section of the priesthood who hypocritically consort with women and perform unspeakable acts -- and so very beyond -- the Redeemers are made out to be all that is truly evil in this world. My guess? Paul Hoffman did not enjoy his school days.

Is it insensitive to suggest that his probable childhood trauma is very much to our benefit? Probably.

But it is nevertheless true. And I can't wait to tackle that sequel.

   -- Rachel Hyland