I found this to be a slow and frustrating read. A kind of Game of thrones style fantasy set in a sort of city state Italian world except it’s far from GoT as there’s only one point of view and that narrator is probably the most boring character in the book and his knowledge of the motivations of all the other characters is completely lacking. The fantasy bit is a dragon eye and it’s barely used here (I assume with the open ending further books in a series will expand on this part). When it’s good it was great but nothing really happens till about halfway through, and the last quarter or so is definitely worth the read but it took so long to get there! So most of the book is world building and frustratingly slow but I kept reading because there was the promise of something good. Disappointing.

In the merchant city of Navola live the Di Regulai family, merchant bankers who've risen through the social and economic standings to become one of the most influential in the city. Soon it will be the turn of Davico to take the reigns of power from his father, but to survive in this city he will need to be able to become a master of political manouevring and plotting.

Full of intrigue and cut throat politics, the Renaissance-Italy inspired city of Navola is a fantastic setting for a great book held back only by an infuriating protagonist. I love political fantasy for the clever twists and turns, and being able to watch an ingeniuos scheme pay-off, and this book had no shortage of that. The plot was gripping, and the foreshadowing fantastically done. The characters too were broadly well done. Some of the side characters lacked depth but both Davico's sister Celia, and his father Devonaci are well written and were thoroughly enjoyable to read, with clear flaws and fascinating minds. Unfortunately, for me, whilst initially compelling Davico's character became grating from about half way through the book. While I like flawed characters, Davico felt to stagnant to me, continuously making the same mistake such that I felt I was rereading the same paragraph over and over again. While I ultimately did like where Bacigalupi went with Davico's character I felt like he spent too long getting there. I also felt that the continuous obsession with sex, and the constant discussion of it by those around him became incredibly tiresome. I liked the themes surrounding sex as a political tool, but it got to the point where it seemed to be mentioned on almost every page and I found myself rolling my eyes each time.

If you're a reader who enjoys political fantasy, and you can look past the book's sex obsession, I do think that you will love this book, and would definitely recommend it.

I received the ARC from NetGalley.

This was my first encounter with Bacigalupi, and it won't be the last. It's not a novel without its flaws, most notably on the level of gender, with the (young and immature) male protagonist's sexism and propensity to objectify being called out and acknowledged but still resulting in narration that at times evoked more eyerolls than strictly necessary. But if that's not a deal breaker (and it wasn't for me), there are some classic pleasures to be found in this coming of age fantasy tale. There's a hint of Dune to the set-up, and a dash of Puzo-esque Borgias with Italian-like city states setting, peppering of untranslated (but easily understandable) terms and phrases. There's an absolutely engrossing plot, and a cast of utterly fun characters. There's just so much fun to how the world is constructed and to the voice. I loved the worldbuilding, with the way philosophy influences the characters' ways of perceiving the world, and I found the story unputdownable (it made me stay up past my bedtime twice in a row because I needed to finish the chapter, and just one more). I am absolutely hoping there's more coming (it clearly is supposed to, but the conclusion works if the series fails to launch, I suppose), and I'll be waiting impatiently.

(Please, readers who hate faux-incest, be advised, this one may not be for you. There's also grimdark-like amount of sexual violence and slavery.)

The book, a grimdark fantasy par excellence, tells the story of a city state, loosely inspired by the Italian city states (e.g., Florence under the Medicis). At the centre of the book is the young scion of a massive banking family, struggling to live to the expectations of his father, as he tries to manipulate and wield his power wherever he can. The, roughly, first half of the story is an introduction to the world our protagonist inhabits, while the second half of the book, and especially the last quarter, is the story of its upheaval.

When I finished reading it my first reaction was "what the hell did I just read?" - it was that good. My heart was beating fast, and I couldn't fall asleep. The last 25% of the book - I couldn't take my eyes off it. Whereas the first half of the book progressed like many other books in this genre do, the last half had much more of the author's signature style - a tumultuous, emotive, and violent rollercoaster that sees you grab the seat and just keep accelerating.

I loved the experience. It was the best book I read in a long time, and is perhaps the best grimdark work of fiction that I read since Joe Abercrombie's first trilogy. It is fantastic to see such quality of writing and storytelling in this genre - and this being the first foray of the author into this type of writing. The grim was super grim - again, most similar to Abercrombie, and perhaps Daniel Jackson's Illborn; and only one step away from Lawrence's The Prince of Thorns. All the characters were vivid and lifelike, again, with only Abercrombie having a similarly complex set of characters, where each is paid proper attention to. The result of a cacophony of personalities that resonate with reality and make the book and story come alive, more powerfully than any worldbuilding the author can do.

I also loved the buildup of tension and the pacing of the book. It's reminiscent of other works by the author, but the power with which it was done is truly unique and unparalleled. Bacigalupi is an awesome storyteller, but here he outdone himself. From a pure storytelling perspective - it's the best thing he's ever written, showing an author at his peak.

Interestingly, I loved how the author, once again, explores the topic of growing up and managing parental expectations while doing so. There is, at the core of the story, a clash between the adult world and the more naive and sentimental world of young adults. The story is propelled by this tension and by the character development of the young adults, as they increasingly realise how simplistic and superficial their understanding of the world was, how fallible their parents and guardians are, and how everything is indeed shades of gray. I wouldn't call it a coming of age story - but it is a story about the pain that the world can inflict on young people, and the price that young adults can sometimes pay if they are too loved and protected by their guardians.

For avoidance of doubt, the story had little fantasy per se, and is most of all a character driven narrative. It's has echoes, as mentioned, of Mark Lawrence (for challenging come of age and vengeance as a theme), KJ Parker and Scott Lynch (playful dialogue), and Joe Abercrombie (for raw violence and emotion). Similar to all these books, the supernatural (or "fantasy") is not the main point, and has a mild influence on the storyflow.

Either way, recommend it to anyone who loves grimdark, or fantasy. It's also a great book for anyone looking to read about the realities of growing up in a setting that makes the whole experience less emotive. It's obviously an amazing book for anyone who loves the author's work.

Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an early copy of this book in return for an honest review.

In the bustling city of Navola, Davico DiRegulai finds himself the reluctant heir to a legacy steeped in deceit and brutality. Paolo Bacigalupi’s “Navola” draws heavily from the intrigue of Italian Renaissance politics and culture, crafting a world brimming with meticulous detail and an ambiance tinged with both warmth and danger.

Bacigalupi’s writing is pure magic, transporting you to a world full of sunshine, beautiful scents, and constant danger. While the storyline may feel somewhat familiar—a son grappling with the burden of his father’s legacy and a forbidden love interest—the author a myriad of side characters to life, adding an authentic touch to the narrative.

Yet, as the tale unfolds, the focus on political machinations sometimes overshadows the personal journey of the protagonist. It’s in this aspect that “Navola” falls short of its potential, leaving readers yearning for a deeper exploration of Davico’s inner struggles.

Sadly, the second part of the book is marred by pacing issues and a plotline that becomes somewhat predictable, with the anticipation for the dragon’s eye building until the very end. The unresolved plot points could potentially be resolved in a sequel, but the abrupt ending is disappointing.

If you seek a conventional fantasy filled with magic and mystery, you may be let down, as “Navola” focuses more on human behavior and political schemes. However, if you’re willing to embrace its complexities, you will find yourself immersed in a richly drawn world, brought to life by Bacigalupi’s masterful storytelling.

In summary, “Navola” is a testament to Bacigalupi’s prowess as a writer, albeit with a few missteps along the way. While the journey may falter in its final stretch, the promise of a sequel offers hope for a more satisfying conclusion.

Game of Thrones happens in pseudo-medieval Italy; everyone suffers.

I has been a big fan of Bacigalupi's previous novels, and as soon as this one came out I dropped everything and went to read it. Maybe if I didn't go in with such high expectations my view of it would've been more positive, instead it was just fine with some short stints of annoying. The two biggest issues with this book are lots and lots of worldbuilding, to the extent of nothing happening for more than half of the book, and the way it's written in 1st person's voice. This way of writing is very much high risk/high reward: if a narrator is an interesting character, their tale will be much more engaging this way vs a 3rd person narrative. If however a narrator isn't particularly well-written, or likeable, or memorable, it will kill the book dead. Unfortunately, in this case it was closed to latter than former: the main character is hands down the least interesting out of every person in the book, and the book suffers for it.

Había mucha expectación alrededor de Navola, la nueva novela de Paolo Bacigalupi, que llevaba ya tiempo sin publicar nada nuevo. Y la verdad, mejor que hubiera seguido así antes que publicar esto.


Navola es un libro tremendamente lento, con un protagonista tan pusilánime que llamarlo protagonista es darle más importancia de la que realmente tiene y con un ligero toque fantástico que funciona más como deus ex machina para librar al protagonista Guadiana (porque aparece y desaparece) de las situaciones más complicadas de su narración que para aportar algo de valor a la novela. Vale que la situación de partida, en un mundo secundario fuertemente influido por las repúblicas marítimas italianas dominadas por los comerciantes parecía atractivo aunque no excesivamente original, pero el desarrollo, por llamarlo de alguna manera, brilla por su ausencia.

La sensación casi constante durante la lectura de sus casi 600 páginas es que vas avanzando por un mar de brea que impide el movimiento. Bacigalupi se recrea en cada detalle y su prosa no ha perdido su brillo, pero es que la historia no fluye, nos da la impresión de estar leyendo un prólogo infinito en el que nunca acaba de eclosionar el primer capítulo.

La elección de la voz del narrador en primera persona, que nos podía llegar a sugerir un narrador no confiable, no es para nada acertada. Y es que Davico no tiene sangre en las venas y la poca que tiene está concentrada en un solo lugar por una explosión hormonal que se lleva por delante páginas y más páginas del libro. Ni siquiera se puede decir que es una novela de rito de paso, porque más bien pasan por encima de él todas las cosas. Creo que no toma ni una decisión a lo largo del libro, todo le viene impuesto.

Navola es una oportunidad perdida, un desperdicio de talento y una obra que necesitaría una buena poda, cuando no empezarla de nuevo. La decepción ha sido tremenda.

(This is a review of an ARC from Netgalley and the publisher Head of Zeus.)
A weird one this. I suppose you’d file it under F-for-fantasy: there is a dragon’s eye on the cover, after all. But in this world, which is something like Renaissance Italian City States through a glass darkly, the dragons seem long gone, and the eye is a relic, a fossil—or is it? The publishers call it “literary fantasy”, so this is like lit-fantasy or fantasy-lit(e).
It’s surprising, anyway, how many literary classics contain genre elements. Ghosts at windows, uncanny omniscience, time loops… For me, Navola resembles historical fiction. It’s like one of those recipes where you add a mere grating of truffle: historical fiction with a hint of dragon.
Our viewpoint character is Davico di Regulai, only son of a powerful family of bankers. (Think the Medicis, and Florence and plotting and poison and stilettos.) Navola is a city state republic, ruled by 100 prominent people, but the most prominent of them all is Davico’s father Devonaci, who plays 4-dimensional chess: not only does he manipulate you now, but he knows what you will do when you decide to defy him further down the line. The great banker has trusted friends: an assassin as well as an administrator on his staff, and soldiers, as well as a slave-consort who runs his household. On the other hand, he is surrounded by enemies, and you never know who is going to turn on you with poison, dagger, or poisoned dagger.
Davico is a reluctant heir; he’d rather be out in the woods gathering herbs and fungi and learning to be a physician. He reminds me of Prince Herbert in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (“I just want to… sing!”). But a bodyguard follows wherever he goes, and learn the family business he must. Most importantly, he needs to learn how to read the people who will always be asking for money and looking for ways not to repay it. One worry he obviously has is who to trust. His father’s men protect him, but they serve his father—and who of his own generation will be as loyal and trustworthy? He is alone, frequently unhappy, and (as you might expect if you read a lot of fantasy) slow on the uptake. Like Fitz in Robin Hobb’s Farseer series, or Simon in Tad Williams’ Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn. But at least those two have the excuse of being of “low” birth. Davico is one of those characters who stretches your credulity because you think, oh, come on, surely you’ve learned by now?
One noble who tries it on with Devonaci ends up losing almost everything, including his older daughter Celia, who is taken as a hostage and adopted as Davico’s sister. She is a pawn in the great game, of course, and about halfway through I started worrying for her future. I was thinking of Lucrezia de’ Medici, married at 14 to the Duke of Ferrara and dead shortly after her 16th birthday. Dead, according to Robert Browning, because she smiled too easily.
A feature of Navola is the frequent use of words and phrases which (forgive my ignorance) seem to be in a kind of mediaeval Italian dialect or kind-of Latin. You can usually tell what they mean from the context, or from repetition, or simply because they’re repeated in English, but I wonder if the final published version of this will have a glossary, or some kind of Author’s Note explaining the dialect. You get words like exomentissimo, which if you put in a space between exo and the rest means (in Latin) something like “I went out of my mind” or (from the context), “I was out of my mind”. I didn’t find it annoying, but curiosity did drive me to the Latin translator in the app on my phone rather than the built-in Kindle translator, which can’t manage Latin.
The (576 print pages) book feels like a labour of love, but here’s what I wonder. There’s been a lot of discourse lately about worldbuilding on the socials, with lots of back and forth about following rules, and so on. Someone mentioned M John Harrison’s (since deleted but much quoted critique of world building, which seemed to be along the lines of: too much worldbuilding gets in the way of writing. The choice line is that worldbuilding is, “the great clomping foot of nerdism.” I do see the argument. I teach my students about how readers are the ones who create meanings, a theory that has had various names: reception theory, text world theory, and so on. The point is, that a writer can provide a mere sketch of a world and the reader can fill it in. The flipside of that is that the author can’t control reception, so what the reader fills in might be… different.
But epic fantasy tends to go in for hundreds of pages of expository world-building, giving us the history, the religion, the culture, and more. It’s what fantasy fans expect. There’s a scene early in Navola, when Davico’s tutor in all things banking, Merio, takes him outside for a look at a mural and an information dump of family history.
It’s a hard balance to strike. Here am I asking for a glossary of not-quite-Italian dialect (and I’d love a map, too), while at the same time wishing we could just be thrown into the deep end of the world and work it out as we go.
When I read Lord of the Rings, as I have done on several occasions, I know by now that I can skim/skip through loads of pages that deliver lore and history that I just don’t need. On the other hand, there’s power in letting the reader become familiar with the lead character and his world, and allowing the stakes and the tension to build up in what feels like a naturalistic way. We’re here to be in this fully-realised world and not charging full pelt for the ending.
So: I’d recommend this if you find many fantasy tropes overwhelming—or overused. As I said above, this feels like a historical novel that dips its toes in fantasy. Don’t come here anticipating magicians and portals; expect something more like Renaissance intrigue. For sure, there is that dragon’s eye (and on the very first page), but what it is and why it is there is something you will have to wait for.

Extremely disappointed by this book. This is basically the story of a young man who spends 90% of the book just mourning and crying because he won´t be able to do the job he is supposed to take over once his father retires. Then, there are a few elements like a dragon eye which is supposed to be relevant but has very little importance. Six hundred pages where only a couple of things happened and where the only remarkable moment is around the last fifth of the book, where things gets excited before it goes back to the routine until the very last line. The open ending was something completely unexpected and confirms that this book is mostly an introduction to a renaissance Italy with very few fantastic elements and very little interest on my side to read further.

Don’t get me wrong I love a good high fantasy novel but I really found this book hard to get through, inevitable info dump and all. I thought the Italian inspiration was really interesting but I think maybe some small explanations or translations would have been useful as I couldn’t really understand what was going on. I thought Davico as our main character was refreshing and the moral dilemmas he faces felt relatable but it just felt like I was trying to read Italian for the whole book as every other word was something I couldn’t understand and it really took me away from the story :/

I recently had the pleasure of delving into this book, and I am beyond impressed with the mesmerizing world that the author has crafted. From start to finish, the intricate plot weaves a tapestry of suspense, emotion, and unexpected twists that kept me eagerly turning the pages.

One of the standout features of this book is undoubtedly its characters. Each one is meticulously developed, breathing life into the narrative with their unique personalities, motivations, and flaws. The protagonists are not just names on paper; they are relatable, complex individuals with whom readers can form a genuine connection. The antagonist, too, is not a mere foil but a multi-dimensional force that adds depth to the story. The author's ability to create such well-rounded characters is a testament to their storytelling prowess.

The plot unfolds seamlessly, drawing the reader into a richly layered narrative that expertly balances tension, drama, and moments of poignant reflection. The pacing is impeccable, maintaining a perfect rhythm that keeps the reader engaged without sacrificing the depth of the story. The author skillfully navigates through various plot arcs, interweaving them with finesse to create a cohesive and satisfying whole.

What sets this book apart is its ability to tackle profound themes while maintaining an accessible and engaging narrative. The book seamlessly combines suspense and emotional depth, making it a truly immersive experience. The author's prose is both elegant and evocative, painting vivid imagery that lingers in the reader's mind long after the final page is turned.

As I reached the conclusion, I found myself yearning for more from this talented author. Their ability to craft a gripping plot and bring characters to life is truly commendable. I eagerly anticipate future works and would wholeheartedly recommend this book to any reader who appreciates a masterfully told tale. If you're searching for a book that seamlessly blends captivating characters with a compelling plot, this is a shining example. I can't wait to explore more literary worlds crafted by this exceptional storyteller.

Dune by way of the Medicis and Game of Thrones — it's compelling, but also a fairly brutal loss-of-innocence story that rehashes some well-worn plot beats, and I expect a pretty wide spread of reactions to this one. Navola's too well-written for me not to rate it well, but a lot rests on where Bacigalupi goes with a (putative) sequel; the story's complete enough not to require a follow-up, but it’s not yet clear what the point of all that intricate awfulness was.

————

Davico, our narrator, is both Navola’s saving grace and one of the main reasons I found it hard to read, even allowing for the book’s already copious violence — he’s tremendously relatable and even more obviously doomed. Born near the top of a Navolese elite absolutely obsessed with deceit and manipulation, Davico’s emotionally open, basically honest, and much more interested in nature than power. He’s clever enough to see he’s fundamentally unsuited to life as heir to the di Regulai bank and observant enough to see where some of the real threats lie, but too weak to escape his patrimony or his own personality before they wreck him. It’s so very, very hard to watch, basically most of the worst parts of being an introvert in middle school but with unimaginably higher stakes. And like Paul Atreides, whose arc he roughly follows, Davico survives only at the cost of becoming a monster.

Although I’d normally ding a book like this for having such an obvious link to Herbert and its other influences, I get the feeling Bacigalupi isn’t trying particularly hard to be original here. After all, Navola's setting is a barely-reskinned version of early Renaissance Italy, with merchant banks vying for monopolies on silks from Xim, spices from Zurom, and furs from Wustholt, absolutely no prizes for guessing what real-world countries those are meant to be. There’s big dragon’s eye on the cover so we know it’s fantasy, but all the historical analogies and elegantly-phrased vulgarities in I Can’t Believe It’s Not Italian seem designed to assure the reader we’re sticking close to reality, that there’s a lesson in here worth taking into the real world.

Which all leads to the question facing grimdark (or grimdark-adjacent) books like this: what exactly are we supposed to learn here? It doesn’t seem Bacigalupi is actually trying to convince us that might makes right or that there’s much point in his noble families’ endlessly bloody pursuit of power, but there’s just no escape from all the murder, rape and revenge. Indeed, after starting out as an interesting, if queasy, exercise in how to keep one’s soul in a world that sees authenticity as a liability, Navola ends up looking like just another revenge story with good writing. I have hope Bacigalupi can backfill some thematic depth and purpose here if he produces a sequel, but for the time being we’re left with a lot of sound and fury maybe signifying…something?