#leadership strides uncompromisingly

[ahb-writes]

Book Review: 'The Saga of Tanya the Evil' #11

The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 11: Alea Iacta Est by Carlo Zen

alternate history

fantasy

magic

social commentary

violence

war fiction

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

An intellectual schism rests upon the bent-over shoulders of a waning nation's exhausted military. This nation, gaunt from the excess patriotism that war brings, and this military, feeble from having run through its many resources, now lean a bit too heavily into one another, bleary-eyed and uncertain as to which way is up. But this schism. It, too, is ghastly, somnolent, and a bit weary from all the blood and rhetoric. It haunts those who would venture to proclaim, to any who would dare listen, that a solution exists that can put an end to this total war. For readers who have crawled this deep into the trenches with Zen, THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v11, unsurprisingly, reveals this debate is not about determining which of the two sides is correct; the true challenge of an intellectual schism rests in determining which of the two sides has the power and the will to outlast the other.

And then there's "Plan B." Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is an unwilling witness to the convergence and deflection of contrasting ideas helmed by the generals Rudersdorf and Zettour. THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v11 marks the third volume the author has teased this traitorous curiosity in earnest, and readers finally see Tanya bear its full weight. Rudersdorf views the Empire's only way forward through a traditional coup d'etat — the armed/military overthrow of the nation's established governing bodies. It's deliberate; it's a hard landing; it involves making everyone the enemy. Zettour views the Empire's inevitable end more harmoniously — the affectionate intertwining of diplomatic arrogance and the revered antecedent of military gusto. It's academic; it's a soft landing; it involves contingency plans for allies and enemies alike.

But the damage has been done. As Tanya learns in the novel's opening chapter, which comprises 50 pages of debate, a nation whose leadership strides uncompromisingly into anything will surely fail. There is no respect to be had by a nation whose entire youth was burned to death by the flames of war. There is no humble concord to be maintained for the political institutions whose only lingering pride is defined by their erstwhile shortsightedness. There is no victory to be won by military enterprises whose veil of sincerity has worked so damn well, that nobody, even among its most learned and accomplished ranks, will internalize the truth before it is rendered irrelevant.

Whether the empire strives for an impractical, unattainable victory (Rudersdorf) or an extended, neglectful defeat (Zettour), the end is the same. The only difference rests in discerning the extent to which these leaders' insufferable egos will bend to accommodate reality.

THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v11 discusses this schism at length, only to later devour both semblances whole and forge a third, synthesized version that compels the characters forward. Narratively speaking, this means broaching the question of the Kingdom of Ildoa. Does the Empire invade? Does it invade right now? Does the military suppress the politicians and royalty in its own territory first? Does one branch of the military, the army, impose its will over others? Why won't anybody do anything about the leaked codes?

The Ildoa question has been a non-issue for much of the novel series, and interestingly, or charmingly, the author also does so on purpose for half of the current novel. A series of dramatic and inconvenient events forces the Empire's hand. Specifically, forces General Zettour's hand. Which means Tanya and the Salamander Kampfgruppe will soon head to the amiable southern border at the onset of winter. Talk of treason, unwinnable war, and ad libitum diplomacy crumble under the auspicious blue skies of the Ildoan countryside.

Also, readers catch a deeper glimpse of two curious perspectives: Colonel Lergen and Colonel Colandro, of Ildoa. A full chapter of Lergen's post-war memoirs provides a crucial, if unbearably sad, but regrettably believable account of war-era bias and the self-blinding predilections of men in power.

For example, Counselor Conrad of the Foreign Office warned Lergen, "Diplomacy is... It's almost like alchemy in a way" (page 055), but the colonel's inability to extrapolate the correct meaning of this analogy quickly proves (validates) just how doomed the Empire truly was. Alas, diplomacy isn't about assembling presumptions; it's not about converting one's expectations into something more. Diplomacy is about cobbling together disparate demands; it's a patchwork of ideals, clumsily yet unerringly hammered into a single, substandard but workable truth.

As such, Lergen travels to neutral Ildoa to meet with his counterpart, Colonel Colandro, to discuss the terms of a possible armistice. And in doing so, he makes the ruinous mistake of believing the Empire a nation worthy of setting the pace. After all the Empire has done, does it possess the legitimacy to make demands? Refuse reparations? Declare revisionist borders? Debate a divestment of local political authority? It's a start. But it's not enough. It's nowhere near enough. And when Colandro explains these facts in plain terms, Lergen nearly passes out. The man isn't wrong, per se, merely ignorant. Only later, much later, will Lergen realize the dissolution of war is not enough comfort for those affected by such disaster; only the dissolution of the social, military, and political hierarchies responsible for war will do.

Appropriately, THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v11 gives readers an idea of the challenges facing their opponents on the peninsula. Colonel Colandro, comfortable in the Ildoan capital, struggles to alert his comrades of the changing balance of power happening in the nearby Empire. But it's not entirely his fault. In a clever narrative twist, one learns that just as Lergen is biased in favor of imperfect reconciliation, so too is Colandro biased in his value estimation. That is to say, both men lack the intellectual diversity required to be more than what they are: cogs in a machine.

As for Colandro and his fellow Ildoans, "the issue, however, was that people often made assessments based on their own values. They believed that others thought the same way they did" (page 181). If one does not view a problem from the perspectives of all key stakeholders, then the solutions raised will be, invariably, inadequate. As such, in the case of the current novel, the consequences are necessarily, comically grand (e.g., An early warning of a coming invasion? No. Couldn't be. Wouldn't dare think of it. Not in a neutral nation.), for "any amount of effort put forward or attempt to resist an enemy invasion meant nothing without truly knowing what it meant to fight an enemy" (page 233).

And so, General Zettour returns to the capital, the Empire marches into Ildoa, Colonel Lergen finds his way to the southern front, and Tanya and her crew of misfits procure for themselves mouthfuls of bread, chocolate, sausages, eggs, and potatoes. This novel shifts the board of possible end-game scenarios for the Empire, but the picture is far from clear. Will war with Ildoa simplify negotiations, or will it complicate them? Will the turmoil between Zettour and Rudersdorf boil over and into the nation's political strata? Will Tanya take the bait of a promotion, only to be forced into compliance with orders she cannot support in good faith? Will a nation whose textbooks fear admission of failure ever learn how to properly process defeat?

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