Hi. You may not know this, but I like to read fantasy and science fiction novels. I have done so for a goodly portion of my existence, and have consequently grown very accustomed to the naming conventions in said genres of writing. I can read a multi-apostrophed or double-voweled name with the best of them; give me a polysyllabic Celtic derivative or a counter-intuitive alien pronunciation and I rarely stumble; I’m a pro at that sly “bh” sound; if it starts with an X or throws me a tricksy umlaut, I can usually master it with ease.

But A Mighty Fortress is the fourth of David Weber’s Safehold books, filled with characters whose names are so close to ones I recognize, and I am still completely incapable of reading them correctly and sounding them out in my head the first – or even second – time through. I get to a name (and really, it is almost every name), and no matter how many times I have read that name previously, I have to stop, read it again to figure out how it should sound, and only then can I move on with the story.

I think there is something wrong with me.

Let me give you some examples. Rahzhyr. Bynzhamyn. Ehdwyrd. Nahrmahn. Zhaspahr. I cannot move on until I have figured out that Rahzhyr was once Roger, and that the others were once Benjamin, Edward, Norman and Jasper. And I get what this is about; I totally understand that David Weber is illustrating the phonetic drift that can happen over the centuries to a language when there is no popular media to keep those pronunciations static. The English of four hundred years ago would be all but incomprehensible to us; four hundred years from now -- assuming it we make it that far -- the language will most probably be pretty identical to what we speak now. (Except that we may all have American accents.)

To learn why these names have drifted so far from their roots, why there are no TV shows or movies or holodecks or such to have maintained them in their original form in this David Weber universe, one must first be conversant with a brief history of the planet Safehold itself.

Safehold was settled by eight million colonists from human occupied space--the last remaining eight million humans in the universe thanks to the rapacious and genocidal nature of the alien Gbaba (see: Gbaba. I have no problem reading Gbaba.). These eight million souls made their way across the vast expanse of space in cryostasis, their consciousnesses separated from their bodies, but due to be returned to them when they landed. Upon arrival on Safehold, however, these consciousnesses were not returned: instead, all eight million people were turned loose on the planet as blank slates, their existence explained by deranged members of the colony fleet’s leadership as a divine act of Creation by a benevolent God, with themselves as His Archangels.

These “Archangels” went on to establish a firmly theocratic, feudal and punitive society, forbidding anything approaching technological advancement under pain of – well, pain – on the basis that the Gbaba would therefore most likely not discover the last remaining humans in all the cosmos, and the species would be saved forever.

But acting against this insanity was a small cadre of officers who refused to let this stand; war ensued, with both sides eventually wiped out but with the pre-eminence of Mother Church and the Holy Writ of the Archangels firmly established as the one true way of the world.

Fortunately for the purposes of this tale, the rebellious forces left behind an insurance policy: one Lieutenant Nimue Alban, whose consciousness was downloaded into a PICA (Personality Integrated Cybernetic Avatar) and set to sleep for many, many centuries.

Nine hundred years later, Nimue Alban awoke, took one look at the patriarchal and corrupt society which was the result of those megalomaniacs’ insanity, and made a decision. She clothed her PICA as a man, called herself (himself) Merlin Athrawes, endeared herself (himself—the sex thing gets very confusing; let’s just stick with “him” from now on) to the King of a forward-thinking, sea-going nation named Charis, and set his adopted land on a path to reclaiming humanity’s lost technology, and lost history, from the ashes of the Archangels’ destruction.

And, so, Book 4 of this continuing drama: well… things are definitely progressing, albeit at a glacially slow pace.

Through Merlin’s machinations and innovations and – to be frank – blatant violations of other monarch’s civil liberties (if they knew what such things were), Charis is now allied with the Kingdom of Chisholm through marriage, the Princedom of Emerald through treaty, and The Princedom of Corisande and Grand Duchy of Zebediah through conquest. Together, much like the Power Rangers come together to form the MegaZord, the five nations now form the Empire of Charis. The Empire has created its own Church in direct competition to the iron-fisted arm of Zion and the nefarious Group of Four that runs all things ecclesiastical upon Safehold, and is in a state of Holy War against every other nation on the planet.

Happily, Charis has fine ships, fine sailors, fine weaponry, a large array of advanced monitoring devices, access to satellite imagery, the super-human strength and reflexes of a PICA and several other advantages in this conflict.

On the other hand, Mother Church has seemingly bottomless wealth, huge numbers of ships and crewmembers, a vast network of spies, some ruthless methods for punishing dissenters, and almost a millennia of tradition on her side.

And so the war rages on.

How can a book be 690 pages long, and yet still not be long enough? I understand it’s not possible to completely fix a broken world in one, or even two books, but four? Four really long books? Now, I love David Weber, I love his writing, I love his ability to show us all sides of a conflict, I love the way he gets inside the heads of the enemy and show us their humanity as well as their evil. I love that he explores the politics of his worlds as much as the battles thereon, and I particularly love the way this nominally sci-fi Safehold series is, in many ways, really an historical one, as all the action is centered on one planet and most of the “technology” we deal with is not only obsolete, but practically ancient. I even love his involved periods and elaborate explanations of how all that technology works: hey, you never know when an awareness of the correct method of casting a smoothbore flintlock rifle or the proper positioning of canon on a war galleon will come in handy.

But much as I am enjoying it, I’m ready for the Safehold series to be over, and I’ll tell you why.

But first I must say that it goes entirely against the grain with me – almost against my whole belief structure, really – to say anything negative about David Weber. After all, he has been my favorite author since the first time I finished On Basilsk Station and immediately flipped back to the beginning so I could read it again right then. However… (yes, I can do this, I need to do this)... A Mighty Fortress has clued me in to a major Weber problem, and now that I’ve taken note of it, it’s going to be hard to ignore from now on. The issue I’m having is with the somewhat heavy handed jovial sarcasm that a goodly portion of his characters have managed to develop.

Now, this has always been a feature of my beloved Honor Harrington’s personality (Honor Harrington, for the uninitiated, is Weber’s most celebrated creation, and the coolest combat commander ever), and her husband Earl White Haven is not immune to the habit. Nor is her best friend Mike Henke, or Queen Elizabeth of Manticore, and I think even Scotty Tremaine… well, now that I think about it, most of the HH Universe good guys fall prey to the characteristic at some point or other, but it never feels out of place there. Thinking on it even more, I’m positive that this kind of wry “wit” (for want of a better word) has found its way into other of Weber’s myriad worlds, and it doesn’t seem wrong in those, either.

But on Safehold… maybe it’s just that it’s so overdone here. Now, it’s possible that the previous three Safehold books have also employed this conversational gambit to excess and I just never noticed or found it as annoying before. But here… oh boy. Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time someone said something along the lines of “Yes, I rather thought you might” or "I can't imagine what I was thinking" with a knowing smile and gleam in their eyes, I’d have enough money to raise a warship fleet of my very own.

That is not to say that I dislike A Mighty Fortress. Not at all. In fact, despite its length and its lack of any significant advancement in the ongoing war for humanity (although I guess stuff does happen: Charis has an heir now -- and they called her Alahna, which isn’t too hard to read; and… hmm, well, it seems like maybe Merlin has found a potential love interest, which is nice -- even if her name is Ahnzhelyk!), I really, really like it. I just… it’s just that forced humor. I'm starting to find it tiresome.

But, you know, since that’s really my only quibble with this book (and, indeed, this series--and, indeed, this author), then I can still commend this book (and, indeed, this series--and, indeed, this author) with nary a second thought. One little niggle does not a series ruin, and the Safehold universe is still an enjoyable, compelling and endlessly informative one. But one I hope--without wanting to sound harsh--will wrap itself up sooner rather than later. I love it, but I also want it to end.

Do you know what I mean?

Yes, I rather thought you might.

  -- Rachel Hyland