Review: The Black Company by Glen Cook

Glen Cook’s titular company of black is a band of hardened mercenaries. These rough, near-villain men fight for the highest bidder, honor-bound only to their contracts. Cook shows (not tells) the exploits of these storied band of mercenaries, though the eyes of their medic and annalist, Croaker.

The Black Company has a thematic styling that you’re more likely to find in detectives and murder mysteries then a high fantasy tale. There are no shining knights pitted against evil wizards here. Instead of stark black and white, the Black Company wades waist-deep in grey.

The Lady, a mysterious and likely entirely evil being, dominates most of the world. By accident, the Company finds itself in the employ of a Taken, one of the Lady’s powerful henchmen.

Any moral qualms they might have had are calmed when they see the brutality of the rebels. The Black Company might be caught between a war of two evils, but they always honor their contracts. Well, most of the time at least.

The noir elements resound throughout almost every element of the plot. Not only is the company forced into an evil vs. evil conflict, but Croaker falls into a fatal fascination with the Lady herself. However dark things get, it never goes pitch black. Eventually, they catch a break, even if it’s at the expense of someone else; the silver lining is always tinged with bitterness.

Croaker is an interesting character to view the events of the book through. Cook gets you deep in his battle-worn skin.  You might not agree with him, sometimes he might repulse you, but you understand and empathize with him.

The sparse writing leaves many spaces for interpretation. Often, Croaker will decide not to record certain facts, or admit to not telling the full story. He’s surprisingly reliable, but there’s the sense of being told the story second hand. You’ll also find no maps in The Black Company, leaving most of the geography up to your imagination and the few sparing details. Cook is very much telling a human story instead of world building.

I’m forced to compare him to Steven Erikson, as he’s the only other non-Tolkien-esque fantasy author I’ve read. When stood against Erikson, Cook is far narrower in focus. All we see of the world is what Croaker sees and knows. Ancient histories are reduced to rumors, and the writings of dead cultures are indecipherable more often than not. Yet, this small window into a great world tantalizes more then it frustrates.

While the style may be lacking in details, The Black Company is more then intriguing enough to quickly pull you through the entire volume (and it’s sequels) in no time at all.  Cooks pacing is excellent; the moment when you think you’re about at the end of a thread, a dozen more threads of intrigue appear for the observant reader.

The Black Company is not a pretty book.  It is not beautiful. It’s covered in dirt and blood. Yet it fascinates because it reflects so much of the ugly in our own world. As much as we aspire to beauty, we still must contend with the nasty that’s right before (and in) us. That’s why The Black Company works; it’s a mirror that shows every hideous scar and wart.