It's always a treat to get a new Guy Gavriel Kay novel and step back into his world of European history from a slightly parallel universe. Over the years he's added more and more depth to the universe that he began with the Sarantium duology, and Written on the Dark adds another piece to the tapestry.

Like much of Kay's recent work the focus of the novel remains small and personal, paying attention mostly to how the large currents of history change the lives of individuals, regardless of their own intentions. Historical forces are really the main characters in Kay's books, providing a backdrop against which the characters struggle before inevitably allowing the pattern to carry them along.

The main character here is tavern poet Thierry, who begins as a small time writer and sometimes thief before becoming swept up in events larger then himself and beyond his control. Larger political events are shown through his eyes and those of his associates. As in many of Kay's books what we are given is a snapshot of events that end up changing the course of history, while adding to the overall story of his Europe.

The writing is, as usual, lovely and lyrical. My only major complaint is that Kay tends to use a little too much foreshadowing language ("if only he had known what was about to change..." etc.). Aside from that I'm always happy to have him take my on a dreamlike journey through a history that is almost but not quite out own.

4.25
This is my first Guy Gavriel Kay and it won't be my last! In fact, now I want to devour his entire backlog. His prose is truly amazing, on the same level with Robin Hobb who is one of my all-time favorites. If you enjoy Hobb's politic heavy fantasy novels, I think you'll also enjoy this...and that it's a relatively short standalone unlike Hobb's novels.

There are a lot of POVs that are beautifully interwoven but I'll admit that, while captivated by the setting and writing style, I felt detached from the characters and plot. This touches on life in a world on the brink of civil unrest and war, beginning with an assassination. There are echoes of medieval France in the setting and I loved how it explored the link between poetry and politics.

This was a very slow-moving, atmospheric, poetic (rather fitting, considering the main character is a poet), fantasy-lite novel inspired by the Assassination of Louis I, Duke of Orléans during the Hundred Years' War.

You can read this book without any prior knowledge of the Hundred Years' War between France and England. Still, I found that researching this history made the story more engaging and easier to follow, as it helped me keep track of all the characters.

Some interesting and sometimes obvious parallels:
• Ferrieres = France
• Anglcyn = England
• King Roch of Ferrieres, "the mad King" = King Charles VI of France (also known as the Mad King)
• Bianca di Rizzetto from Batiara, Queen of Ferrieres = Isabeau of Bavaria, Queen of France
• Rollin, Duke de Montereau, the King's brother = Louis I, Duke of Orléans, the King's brother
• Laurent ("the Bold"), Duke de Barratin, a royal cousin = John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy
• Jeanette ("the Maiden"), of Broché = Jeanne (or Joan) d'Arc from Domrémy
• Thierry Villar, a tavern poet = François Villon
• Marina di Seressa, a poet = Christine de Pizan

The story is told in third person from numerous POVs, but constantly revolves around a tavern poet called Thierry Villar, who finds himself thrown into the investigation and political happenings surrounding the assassination of the King's brother, the Duke de Montereau. It's interesting to witness momentous historical and political events unfold from the viewpoint of a regular (but intelligent) citizen who has an in with many important players.

The story is told with a lot of suspense and foreshadowing of an impending war.

There's something about this book that made me feel like I was missing something. Perhaps it's because this is my first time reading a novel by this author, but I suspect that there are some elements and characters (particularly with the many seemingly random references made in the epilogue) that might tie in with his other books.

In any case, this was a beautifully written historical fantasy novel.

It has barely been a week, and we are back with another Guy Gavriel Kay book. This time, we are taking a look at his newest release, Written on the Dark. Set in a historical fantasy version of France, this is the story of a man with the most dangerous job in all the land: an underground guerrilla tavern poet. Unwittingly caught up in some unprecedentedly interesting times, Thierry must decide if he is going to wade waist deep into the tides of history or stick to the rivers and the lakes that he’s used to.

Thierry Villar is a notorious tavern poet. If you find yourself sitting here wondering, “What could a tavern poet possibly be? How is it different from a normal poet?” You rube. You cultureless hack. Obviously, a regular poet is a refined individual who caters to the elite and the wealthy. But a tavern poet? A freestyle assassin who can snipe you with witty insults and observations at your local watering hole from more than 10 feet away (depending on the individual’s hearing). Thierry is a man with an intimate knowledge of the dregs of his city, which is why the provost of the guard has a job for him that he can’t refuse. A very important man has been murdered, cut down in the street. Investigating the crime is a very risky venture in an era when laws are often determined by the rich and powerful. Will Thierry step up to the plate and swim through the currents of history by helping bring justice to a murdered man? Or will he stay in comfortable notoriety, beloved but likely to only be a footnote in the annals of history?

As with all Kay books, Written on the Dark contains all of his signature elements: Small people in big times. Choices that alter the course of history. Proximity to power that drags you in its wake without the ability to meaningfully affect it. Written’s unique angle is its ties to poetry, both in plot and theme, and its exploration of how the choices we make pave our life’s story. All of the characters in this book, who come from different walks of life with very different dispositions, sit at interesting crossroads. Every one of them is presented with choices that lead to very different paths: one that will give up things they love, put them in danger, and make the world a very tiny bit better. The other, continued comfort and joy, but the shame of knowing you could have fixed something or saved someone, yet chose safety.

I really like how Kay dives into the minutia of the decisions. This is not a clear-cut “everyone should always do the right thing” hero story. These characters are taking on extreme risks in uncertain times for the chance that everything will work out to a better, more just world. In all cases, the decisions felt quite tricky, and I honestly see myself choosing safety in almost all situations. And because of this, their choices to place themselves at the center of turbulent times feel even more heroic and interesting.

As mentioned, poetry is a huge component of this book’s core identity. Written is actually quite short for a Kay book, clocking in at just under 300 pages for the copy I read. It favors more punchy observations and quick asides than some of Kay’s other, more lavish explorations of history and the human condition. It has a romantic soul, diving into its inhabitants’ lust for life and the passions that make them tick. It also loves poetic endings, in every interpretation of what that means. Also, the literal poetry that the various professional poets recited was quite fun. I imagine they must have been a labor of great love and energy for Kay, and I think the poems really tie the whole book together.

In terms of where I would rank Written on the Dark in the larger body of Kay’s work, I would put it somewhere around the middle. While still easily one of the best books of 2025, Written lacked the depth and weight of some of Kay’s bigger stories, like Sarantium or Lions. The choice to focus the book around essentially a singular event led to a more intimate story, but it also kept Written from achieving the more epic scope that Kay’s other books are known for. Written is a quiet and thoughtful member of Kay’s bibliography that you might forget is there, but it is full of shockingly emotive moments when you take a closer look.

Written on the Dark is a masterpiece of poetic scale and was a delightful entrant into the best books of 2025. Its smaller scope is refreshing, but it still packs a powerful punch despite its shorter length. If you are at all curious about the life of an underground guerrilla tavern poet, then the book you have been waiting for has finally graced your to-be-read pile.

Rating: Written on the Dark – 9.0/10
-Andrew

“Sometimes we retain the quiet moments that come in the midst of chaos, or after it. The city, my city, in the night. Our lives, written on the dark.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️.✨

First off, thank you @acebookspub for the free copy of Written on the Dark! #berkleypartner

I have enjoyed Kay’s work since I first read Tigana for a Sci-Fi Fantasy English course I took in University.

His character development, world building, and poetic prose is what I, as a lover of epic fantasy, dream about when I crack open a book.

The beginning of Written on the Dark had me hooked and I binged the first 100 pages.

The rich characters, solid world building, engaging plot points, and a jarring start to the book had me on the edge of my seat.

Also, the LGBTQIA+ representation is top notch, whether they were a MC or a side character, they were well developed! The non-binary character was so well done it left me wanting a book just on their story.

But then we hit a wall. The story went from “oh this is going to cause complete civil unrest” into a meandering, boring, stumble to a painfully predictable conflict resolution.

Essentially, what we have is the equivalent of Dandelion (Jaskier from The Witcher series) as a lawyer/bard doing Geralt’s side quests that eventually come together to form some sort of a conclusion to a mediocre conflict.

Also, that epilogue was unnecessarily sad but it left the reader feeling like this book is some sort of bridging between two different time lines in a series. Like Rouge One in the Star Wars franchise.

I enjoy Kay’s writing style and that made the book enjoyable for me but also very disappointed in the actual story and plot itself. It started off so good and fell so flat.

If you are looking for a fantasy that is a low stakes mystery/journey this one is great. But if you are hopping for an action orientated and high stakes plot, I suggest checking out Tigana instead.

Editor's note: This roundup is scheduled to publish in Georgia June 11 online and June 14 print in several newspapers. Will also publish in Mississippi and Alabama during the month in newspapers and magazines, timing up to local editors. Link below will be active June 11.

From new series starters (Michael Connelly’s “Nightshade”) to the tried-and-true (Kendra Elliot’s “Her First Mistake”) our beach bag is already overflowing, and what we offer here are just a few — OK, actually 25 — of the best beach reads published through the end of June. Later this season we’ll round out the list, but for now, find an old favorite, a debut thriller or just about anything in between — including a North Alabama favorite who you just might see dining at a Cullman restaurant.

“Vera Wong’s Guide to Snooping on a Dead Man” (Berkley) by Jesse Q. Sutanto: A lovable Chinese tea shop owner stumbles upon a distressed, young woman — and a murder, the investigation of which she decides to serve up herself. With lots of tea and nosy charm, Vera tackles the project unasked as a “favor” to her (hoped for) future daughter-in-law. Sutanto mixes cozy mystery with smart humor and heartfelt moments.

“When She Was Gone” (Blackstone Publishing) by Sara Foster: When a young nanny working for one of Perth’s wealthiest families disappears, a tense investigation unravels the secrets of a seemingly perfect family, forcing everyone to confront the lies they’ve told themselves and each other. Foster delivers a taut, emotionally resonant thriller that lingers. And as expected from Blackstone Publishing, the story itself is packaged beautifully with subtle and tactile cover art: Buy the hardcover of this one.

“Follow Me” (Thomas & Mercer) by Elizabeth Rose Quinn: An eerie digital breadcrumb trail leads a tech-savvy woman into a web of deception and danger. Quinn crafts a smart, suspenseful mystery that taps into our modern fears of surveillance and online identity. “Heathers” meets “The Stepford Wives” in this tale of twin sisters.

“The Book That Held Her Heart” (Ace) by Mark Lawrence: In this final chapter of The Library Trilogy, a mysterious book bridges love, loss and literary magic in a haunting story that defies time and tests the bond between Livira and Evar — one that has never been more taut. Lawrence blends fantasy and emotion in this lyrical, genre-bending tale.

“The Great Pyramids: Collected Stories” (Arcade Publishing) by Frederick Barthelme: This sharp, wry collection captures small-town oddities, human longing and ironic twists with Barthelme’s signature minimalist flair. A masterclass in short fiction that’s both grounded and subtly surreal.

“The Boomerang” (Thomas & Mercer) by Robert Bailey: Big Pharma is on trial as Eli James, chief of staff to the president, attempts to rescue his daughter from a cancer diagnosis while simultaneously stumbling upon a cover up that could affect millions of lives — and more importantly to the bad guys, billions of dollars. Bailey keeps the thrills high and the emotional stakes higher. He also lives with his family in Huntsville — and has been know to visit Cullman County now and then. Let him know what you think of his latest if you see him around town.

“A Thousand Natural Shocks” (Blackstone Publishing) by Omar Hussain: A reporter fleeing his past while investigating a serial killer becomes entangled in a cult that promises a pill to erase his memory. The story turns to a test of time as dark secrets about the cult and the serial killer surface in an attempt to reconcile everything he’s learned with his past — before his memories evaporate.

“My Friends” (Atria Books) by Fredrik Backman: Backman returns with a moving meditation on friendship, aging, the quiet heroism of everyday people and a famous painting picturing an isolated moment of time of three tiny figures sitting at the end of a long pier. Tender, funny and unmistakably human, this is Backman’s most eloquent and lyrical story to date about how lives intersect in unknowable and unpredictable ways. An engaging read from the author of “A Man Called Ove.”

“The Language of the Birds” (Ballantine) by K.A. Merson: Arizona is no average teenager and when she finds a cryptic ransom note, she sets out to solve the riddles — and save her mother. Unwittingly, she becomes entangled in a worldwide treasure hunt that involves a centuries-old secret her father took to his grave. A quirky, surprising story soars in an introspective mystery.

“The Eternal Warrior” (Blackstone Publishing) by Ari Marmell: An immortal fighter who defies even death — an Eternal Warrior — is caught in a conflict that spans centuries, grappling with his past sins and the future of humanity in an attempt to reclaim everything that has slipped from his personal history. Marmell delivers epic fantasy with grit, heart and unrelenting pace.

“Nightshade” (Little, Brown and Company) by Michael Connelly: Done with Bosch and Ballard, at least for now, Connelly’s new series starter centers on another one-name detective, Stilwell. Due to department politics, the Los Angeles County sheriff detective has been exiled to a low-level post on Catalina Island, where he promptly begins to ruffle local feathers as he unearths secrets the natives would rather keep to themselves. Hopefully Connelly’s flair for backstory and depth will surface in future offerings, but for now, our first meeting with Stilwell offers a familiar, fun summer read.

“Kaua’i Storm” (Thomas & Mercer) by Tori Eldridge: In the lush Hawaiian landscape, a repatriated national park ranger uncovers a mystery surrounding the disappearance of her two cousins. Unfortunately for her, it’s a mystery and investigation that neither the family, the locals nor the police truly want exposed. Eldridge blends action and cultural depth in a uniquely tropical thriller.

“Rockets’ Red Glare” (Blackstone Publishing) by William Webster and Dick Lochte: A high-octane political thriller unfolds against the backdrop of a potentially explosive Fourth of July. Lochte’s sharp storytelling and fast pacing make for a perfect July 4 holiday page-turner. The book is the first in a series with Tribal Police Deputy Sage Mendiluze. Reacher and Pickett fans will find common ground here.

“Written on the Dark” (Ace) by Guy Gavriel Kay: Kay returns with an evocative, elegant historical fantasy set in a world where poetry, memory and fate collide. Centering on a tavern poet who must cater to both rogues and courtiers, Thierry Villar must also navigate churning political waters in a game of assassins and armies. Richly imagined and beautifully told storytelling.

“A Dead Draw” (Thomas & Mercer) by Robert Dugoni: In book 11 of the Tracy Crosswhite series, a pair of cold cases stir ties to the murder of Tracy’s sister in the form of suspect Erik Schmidt. When Schmidt is freed due to an investigative error, the lives of her friends and family are under direct threat. Schmidt is a master of taunt and tease as he draws Tracy deeper into his dark world. Wonderful character building in this story and the sensitive drawing of Lydia, a young woman on the spectrum whose mannerisms echo those of Tracy’s murdered sister, is exceptionally done. One of Dugoni’s best works, the author brings in just enough backstory to both start the series here, and reward long-time readers with vintage Crosswhite.

“The Martha’s Vineyard Beach and Book Club” (Ballantine Books) by Martha Hall Kelly: In a story told through dual timelines, Kelly’s narrative is a personal ode to her mother’s heritage. Involving a contemporary mystery, set at Martha’s Vineyard, whose only answers will come from the past, the story taps a wartime romance set in 1942 — and a beach read written for today. Kelly is touring extensively for this book through the end of July. Meet up with her at marthahallkelly.com/events/.

“The Turn” (Blackstone Publishing) by Christopher Ransom: An heirloom, of sorts, following his father’s death sends Casey Sweet into his dad’s past — and a current country club where Casey might just have met the long-lost son he never knew he had. Written in the tradition of “Caddyshack,” Ransom’s new novel is an engaging summer break.

“The Afterlife Project” (Podium Publishing) by Tim Weed: Humanity is facing extinction. A group of scientists with the capability to send a test subject 10,000 years into the future. One of the last women on Earth capable of getting pregnant. All of this portends that the survival of humankind is at stake in a futuristic setting evoking the ills of today.

“It Takes a Psychic” (Berkley) by Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Jayne Castle: A psychic investigator — actually, a para-archeologist — with a flair for romance and the paranormal dives into a case filled with danger and sizzling chemistry. Castle delivers her signature mix of mystery charm in a story centering on a long-dead cult leader and illicit paranormal experiments. “It Takes a Psychic” is No. 18 in Castle’s A Harmony Novel series.

“The Ghostwriter” (Sourcebooks Landmark) by Julie Clark: An author’s past returns to haunt her in the form of a ghostwriting project undertaken for her estranged father. When the project turns out to be just another one of dad’s lies, writer Olivia Dumont is forced to confront her relationship with her father … and a web of family secrets.

“Stop All the Clocks” (Arcade) by Noah Kumin: Kumin’s debut is a meditative, poetic novel about time, grief and the modern-life moments that define us … in ones and zeroes. The death of a colleague and the collapse of her AI company send Mona Veigh’s life in directions not determined by any algorithm.

“Plays Well with Others” (Blackstone Publishing) by Lauren Myracle: A bout of social media betrayal forces Jake Nolan from her job, house and husband and into a receptive bungalow on Sweetwater Lane. There, she befriends those just like herself — people itching to act on entrenched thoughts of retaliation.

“Her First Mistake” (Montlake) by Kendra Elliot: Elliot has written nearly two dozen thrillers set in her home state of Oregon and this latest offering features a minor character from the Columbia River novels: Here, Deschutes County sheriff’s detective Noelle Marshall gets her own origin story. A cold case murder mystery, this is the tale that explains what happened to Marshall to make her the detective she is today, or at least what she becomes in later storylines. A fulfilling storyline delivers much more than backstory in a captivating summer read.

“Jill Is Not Happy” (Scarlet) by Kaira Rouda: In this darkly comic tale, Jill and Jack live an enviable life in South California and, as recent empty-nesters, an unbearable marriage. A road trip “to reconnect” is really a cat-and-mouse game unknown to each other as they unwittingly match their cunning to pull one in … and push the other over, the more-than-metaphorical ledge.

“The Farm House” (Poisoned Pen Press) by Chelsea Conradt: Looking for a fresh start after her mother dies, Emily Hauk and her husband depart for a farm in rural Nebraska. Learning nothing from centuries of thrillers (“The Amityville Horror,” anyone?), they should have asked why the asking price was so low. Unknown to them, everyone who has ever lived on this farm has died. The lure of the soil is compelling, though, as Emily digs into the mystery enveloping her new home.

Reach book reviewer Tom Mayer at tmayer@rn-t.com or tmayer132435@gmail.com.

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Written on the Dark is GGK's shortest novel, and in a lot of ways, I think it needed to be longer. Brightness Long Ago, his next shortest, is over 100 pages longer, and is my second favorite GGK novel. So it's not like it needed to be huge! But a lot of it felt rushed or haphazard in the exploration of its themes and characters. The plot just kinda comes in for awhile and then is over, and then people hang around for awhile, and then more plot stuff happens....all of this, in isolation, is great. But it left the novel feeling like it was not as good as the sum of its parts. This sounds negative, and in comparison with Guy's other novels that I've read, it is. But it's still a GGK book, which means it is still very good. The prose is still great, every minor and major character's inner life is accounted for, and there are some great characters in this one. Theres a chapter in this book that is primarily following Joan of Arc (but GGK twisted, so not really) that is spectacular.

And part three of this book is incredible. The whole climax was extremely gripping and moving. And then the epilogue is...maybe, just maybe, the best epilogue I've ever read. It ties into Sarantine Mosaic and Brightness Long Ago, my two other favorite works from GGK, and it made me so incredibly emotional.

So I can't fault it too much.

8.5/10

Guy Gavriel Kay’s latest novel Written on the Dark explores the same different-but-familiar fantasy world that appeared in some of his previous works, including All the Seas of the World and A Brightness Long Ago.

While it takes place in a different, imaginary locale, a world with two moons and unique geography, religion, and customs, Written on the Dark was inspired by medieval France, and includes a Joan of Arc figure, albeit with a happier ending.

The protagonist, Thierry Villar, is a tavern poet. Definitely not included among the great and powerful, he is nonetheless swept up into important events within his world. As in some of Kay’s other books, Written on the Dark shows us how slight nuances can affect the tide of events, at the personal level as well as more broadly. Kay’s knack for developing a strong sense of place is exhibited once again in this novel.

Set against a backdrop of courtly intrigue and political unrest, Kay’s characters are people the reader can care about. We see character growth in Thierry himself, who, despite the vicissitudes of fate, is an active participant in his own life, relying on his wits and knowledge to work his way out of tough scrapes.

Loss, nostalgia, beauty, and a sense of magic are also woven into the narrative. Steeped in a different time and place, Written on the Dark contains echoes of our own world’s history, lending a ring of authenticity to the narrative. Those who enjoyed All the Seas of the World and A Brightness Long Ago should enjoy this latest addition to Kay’s works.

** spoiler alert ** This was my first Guy Gavriel Kay book which was probably a mistake. I definitely am not going to write him off, but this book wasn't very impressive.

In the good column, I will say that Kay does have a way with descriptions and settings. The beginning of the book started out very well, and I really felt the cold of winter and the chaos of the events. Also, I will say the characters of Thierry (in the beginning, at least) and Robbin were pretty captivating. The political interplay was intriguing as well (though it didn't really pay off).

Now let's talk about what didn't work. The biggest issue for me in this book is the female characters. Marina is the best written of the bunch (but why, oh why, was she naked in the bed with Thierry??), but she really only revolves around Thierry and his story. Silvy cannot be in a section or chapter without something relating to sex being mentioned. When we first meet her, we find out she's sleeping with her female coworker (we learn she sleeps with women so she won't get pregnant, because that's how sexuality works). She meets Marina and what do they talk about - if Silvy has slept with Thierry (not passing the Bechdel test). Then Silvy starts sleeping with Marina for whatever reason. A little later, a Silvy part and again we need to be told that she's still sleeping with her coworker. Thierry shows up and they decide to be together...by saying that they should start sleeping together. Can Silvy be thought of without sex being mentioned?

Let's talk about the interlude too, while on female characters. A super hot, maybe supernatural woman seeks out Thierry solely to bang him. Why did we need an entire section for this? There's also the Joan of Arc stand-in, Jeanette, which was just a bizarre side-story to be honest (in the acknowledgements, GGK admits he wanted to "save" Joan of Arc, but this just didn't suit the story).

The epilogue is apparently a throwback to GGK's older books, which went over my head entirely and ended up just being confusing. Overall, I'm giving it three stars and not two due to: a)the writing style and b)the first quarter of the book.

A beautiful and stirring meditation on the transitory nature of life and how one man can change the course of his life with the simplest of acts. Guy Gavriel Kay is never better than when he is examining the everyman, a simple soul with no lofty aspirations or grand, intricate schemes to take over the world. His poet, Thierry, is that perfect blend of loveable rogue and gentle soul who the reader happily follows through Kay's touch of strange medieval French countryside as world's shift, lives are irrevocably changed and the great pattern on the weaver's loom takes shape.

Kay cannot write a bad book even if under death treath.
Another story that could be historical fiction with fantasy elements or fantasy with historical elements.
To be honest i don't care as this huge book kept hooked and turning pages.
GReat world building and storytelling
Highly recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher for this ARC, all opinions are mine

Written on the Dark
Written on the Dark by Guy Gavriel Kay
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It's really quite fascinating to see how my reactions to a handful of authors change over the years. The first book I read by Kay left me with a sour taste in my mouth, but it also happened to be one of his first, most popular works.

But later? I kept giving him a shot (being pleasantly surprised), and another, and another--and sooner, rather than later, I was utterly enthralled, lost in the writing. I became so thoroughly immersed in the world and the people who journey there that I was literally enchanted away from the real world. Kay's writing has real magic in it.

In this particular book, we follow Thierry again, the poet who ALWAYS gets into trouble in a world near to, but not quite France, starting with first a murder investigation, and ending in massive, massive changes for a character I'd grown to love over the previous volumes.

But more, it's about his growth rather than the certainly interesting historical-adjacent happenings that reward students of history. Joan of Ark, anyone? But don't be deceived. This novel isn't about her. It's very much about seeing the world through a growing poet's eyes, encountering both danger and kindness, and ultimately... well, I think you ought to read it. It's a very beautiful book.

In the interest of full disclosure, I think Guy Gavriel Kay is one of the best genre writers practicing in the field today. It’s entirely possible, I think, that he hasn’t written a bad book. And, to be clear, I think he’s knocked it out of the park again. If you’re an existing Kay fan, you’re going to enjoy Written on the Dark immensely. If you’re not…well, you’re probably going to enjoy it, too.
Kay is known for his alt-history work. Set in worlds that are perhaps one step removed from our own. Where the names are a little different, the faces are familiar but not quite the same, where the thrust of events nudges at the back of your mind, but the details, the intimate, the human, the emotional filigree of the experience, are all very different. And in themselves, these smaller stories can change, shift the rolling path of great events in another direction. Small things, things people do, can change the world. The way two people see each other, the way a chance meeting in the street can lead to a conversation that shifts paradigms…is something Kay portrays very well. And I tell you what, Kay can write a world. He has a lush, lyrical prose style, which provides his setting with weight, and beauty, and a sense of capturing that beauty alongside the costs. Blood on a silvered blade. And this is a world that you might have run across before, a world which feels quite similar to medieval France. High chivalry, armoured men on horses, and a desire to make the world beautiful, in poetry, in life.


Indeed, the protagonist, Thierry, is a professional poet. Maybe professional is taking it a bit far, as he also has several less salubrious side-hustles. But he’s a smart man, and living in his head is no hardship. A fast talker and risk-taker, Thierry is also a thoughtful man, one who knows that words can shift mountains, assuming you can find the right words. That words can build legends, if you can find the right words. That words can shatter men, if you can find the right words. But that from time to time, the world is a dark and deadly place, and if the silvered tongue of chivalry and love can’t do the job, then a dagger at your belt wouldn’t be the worst thing to have. Kay has a penchant for male artist protagonists, and exploring the dichotomy within them of making art and craftsmanship in a more martial world, and this is no exception. But, to be fair, it’s a good bit. The tensions both within Thierry and within society are explored with a compassion and honesty and a sense of truth. And Thierry’s relationships, his struggles with his friends and his lovers and his social and political superiors, sit within a broader sense of events. Within a world on the cusp of change, where the right word in the right place can move a pebble into an avalanche. There's a sense of the epic here, intertwined with characters whose relationships keep that scale grounded, intimate, and human.


I don’t want to spoil the story, but I will say that Kay never has a problem keeping my attention. This is one of those books whose first few pages grabbed onto my heart and mind, and refused to let go until I was done reading it, at some unconscionable hour of the morning. It’s a story with some romance, some heart, some rapid pivots and sharp twists. It’s a story that, I know it’s a cliche, is a page-turner, because it for sure kept me turning pages.


Kay has always been a great writer, but I think he’s at the top of his game here, telling a tale that is at once a soaring piece of theatre, and an intensely personal story. It is, in short, really rather good, and I encourage everyone to go and pick it up immediately.

I read the ARC Written on the Dark by Guy Gavriel Kay. This is my first Guy Gavriel Kay and I loved it. The characters are fantastic. Our MMC is Thierry Villar, a tavern poet, trained as a lawyer, who does not practice law, unsuccessful thief and gambler, intrepid spy and informant, and as it turns out, a pretty good lawyer and fine writer. I love the character work in this story overall. The writing is stellar:

"It is possible to love someone, even for years, and not know it. Or to hid from it, in denial, and then in a moment . . . know it, and not be afraid."

I have many highlighted passages in this book. The story is wonderful. It is an old school fantasy. There is politics, battles, intrigue, murder and love. It is really well done and I am so happy to have received this arc - I rated it 4.4 stars! I need to thank Net Galley and Berkley Publishing Group for my e-arc. I have this book preordered. It releases today, Tuesday, May 27,2025.

In Written on the Dark, Guy Gavriel Kay returns to his “quarter-turn from our own” world, here shifting time and place to a late-medieval “France” (Ferrieres in Kay’s universe) ruled by a “mad king.” When the king’s brother is killed by the powerful Duke of Barratin and left on the streets of Orane (think Paris), tavern poet Thierry Villar finds himself embroiled in the politics and intrigue of a world he’d never imagined himself part of, as Ferrieres tries to avoid civil war while also attempting to fend off an exterior invasion by the king of the island nation across the channel.

Let’s just get the easy part out now. Written on the Dark is a wonderful read — classic Kay in its elegant warmth, masterful use of POV, careful twisting of history, and admixture of the sweet and sorrowful. If you’re a fan of his work, you should absolutely read it. If you haven’t read his work, you should absolutely read it (though perhaps not first). And if you have read his work and are not a fan, I’m not here to shame you — books are never for all readers — but will respectfully suggest you should also absolutely read it so as to realize the error of your ways and then correct said error by going back and reading his other works.

Among the historical analogs that form the background are the Hundred Years War between France and England, Charles the VI’s mental problems, Henry V’s invasion, Joan of Arc, the battle of Agincourt, and the Duke of Burgandy’s assassination of his cousin, the king’s brother. Kay has always used history more as a guideline than a rule, switching up times and places and personages as needed for plotting, but it seems he plays more freely here, completely flipping historical events upside down rather than massaging them into place. I won’t spoil the impact of doing so by detailing those changes, so will simply note the effect is both stimulating in its unexpectedness and moving in its sense of “what could have been.”

Characterization is its typical strong point, beginning with our main character, Thierry Villar, loosely based on the actual French poet François Villon. Vividly conceived from the start, even better is how we see him grow in his many facets: poet, child, lover, lawyer, and a man “perversely excited … by unexpected proximity to power, to great events, however terrible.” We’re prepared early on for this growth, as Thierry muses that “He was still young, of course. He might grow into something different, someone different. You weren’t the same though the whole of your life, were you?” The answer, for him and many in the book, is no, they are not the same throughout their lives.

As a writer, he is introduced immediately as “a man who shaped lines in the dark … That defined him, he thought.” We’re not just told he’s a writer, however. Or simply presented with his work, though Kay does put on his poet’s hat to provide us several examples. Instead we’re shown how being a writer is not just what one does when putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboards) but colors all one does. The way, for instance, that Thierry, despite facing a wholly unexpected a life and death moment, turns his attention elsewhere: “Thierry blinked. There felt to be frost forming on his eyelids. An image for a poem?” Or how, as he thinks to himself, “Words one chose were a way of seeing, of understanding the world.”

When we first meet him, he’s already a popular tavern poet, improvising sharply biting poems in pubs, most in an “ongoing series of bequests he purported to make to various people”, such as a “strap-on device … to make up for [a] tavernkeeper’s own diminutive needle” or an “enchanted purse” to act as a “renewable maidenhead” for an aristocratic woman who had wronged him. His work is “amusing and harmless” in the words of one character, “not for the likes of” the higher class as he himself says. But later he crafts a “sequence of poems … different from anything he’d ever done before” and that, as the omniscient narrator informs us, “marked a demarcation, it would afterwards be said, in what Thierry Villar had to say with and through his work. And perhaps also in who he was.” And still later, in keeping with the idea that one is continually changing, in a different time, a different place, he writes other poems that “became, for a number of readers (and scholars, afterwards) his defining works.”

Similarly, Thierry matures and deepens in his relationships with his stepfather (in a lovely and moving scene), his longtime friend Silvy who everyone save the two of them know is destined to become his lover, and his mutual but sometimes fraught friendship with the sergeant then provost Medor Colle. All this while he moves unexpectedly from a useful tool in investigating the murder of the king’s brother to a man deeply involved in events and decisions that will dictate the future of the realm.

Other richly constructed characters (though not all get the same page time) include the aforementioned Silvy, Medor, and stepfather; Provost Robbin de Vaux, who brings Thierry in at the start to investigate; Medor’s uncle Gauvard, a gender-fluid seer of the half-world; and the courtly poet Marina di Seressa (based on Christine de Pizan). All are presented as supremely capable, a pattern across their personalities (one that extends to side characters as well). Silvy’s competence got her part ownership of a bar after she’d done such a good job managing it while the original owner had to leave town, and Thierry, missing her after long absence, imagines her, “patrolling the floor of the tavern, organizing everyone. Doing it calmly, unruffled by almost anything.” Meanwhile, De Vaux pushes the investigation of the murder despite knowing quite well the possible consequences to himself:

You’d probably be safer to leave this alone, no?”
“I am quite certain I would be,” said Robbin de Vaux.
“Dog with a bone?” Thierry asked.
But after a pause the other man shook his head. “Provost of Orane. And the king’s brother was murdered last night.”
Had to respect that, Thierry thought

A thought he echoes watching Medor in action: “J’ad’s blood, Thierry thought. The captain of the serjeants was impressive.” Even the bartender gets a shout out: “Le Futrier looked at him. Another capable man, Thierry thought.” And while Marina di Seressa is already a highly recognized court poet, like Thierry she finds another style that shows off more of her ability than sponsored poems for the nobility. Besides their shared competency, each is both given an emotionally complex backstory and their own changing arc. We even get backstories for characters barely appearing in these pages, such as a guardsman. This has always been one of my favorite elements of Kay’s overall writing — the refusal to denote characters as “lesser” or minor” and instead see them as characters in their own story that we’re just not seeing much of, though we get hints of just how equally rich their stories might be.

Another aspect of Kay’s style I enjoy is the move between micro and macro, as we shift between a tight third-person POV for most of the story but at times zoom outward via an omniscient narrator far less bound by space or time. Sometimes it remains tied to a character we’ve just been in tight with, a simple, quick in and out flash forward:

• “All his life, and he lived a very long time, and even saw Sarantium again, Gauvard Colle would remember that afternoon, that room.”

• “Robbin de Vaux did blame himself for not finding her, however, all his life. Because of what happened. Because of what he believed he might have prevented …”

Sometimes it’s to follow a character beyond the prime storyline as per the above point about secondary characters:

• “Angland refused to pay the ransom demanded [for their captured king]. King Hardan’s brother Jarl was, it appeared, in no great hurry to have his brother back and his own place on the throne surrendered … a different agreement was reached.”

• As it happened … Pons van Cové refused to kill the silver-haired cleric …He was also clever, like his father, and surmised he’d be killed himself, afterwards … He’d beseeched that he might be permitted to remain there, take vows … He was accepted in this request. He ended up having a different sort of life, however …”

Sometimes it is to pull way, way back and show a more general impact on the world:
• In the east, the star-worshipping Asharites took note of these events, and in those days the first stirrings of an intent, not just an aspiration, to conquer the golden city of Sarantium emerged. It would take time, but it would happen.

And finally, sometimes it is to throw a welcome bone to Kay readers and allow us to follow a thread connecting this novel to others he’s written:

• Decades after that day, in a time after the world has greatly changed, another king of Ferrieres, the grandson of this one, will receive an emissary from the High Patriarch in Rhodias ... A woman of no status at all will be present in the room, as she happens to be a part of the emissary’s entourage. She will discover, because she is clever and alert, a spy from a hostile country beneath the window …


Thematically, Kay brings in a number of subjects. A major one, and one I might argue is much removed from the same concept above of no minor characters, is the way in which small decisions can have major impact, whether they be made by kings and queens and other “greats” or by those often overlooked by the history books: the tavern poets, the bartenders, the guardsmen. Or how mere chance also plays a major role. We see these “pivot points” again and again here. Sometimes the characters are aware of them, usually in hindsight:

• “Thierry thought of Lambert Maar, who had spoken too freely in a tavern about a robbery being planned. Which had led to his being here. The things that could shape your life.”

• Silvy said. “Quick, go get your drink.” It was too late, though. She thought about that, too, after. If they hadn’t kept on talking, if he’d just gone to Eudes when she’d said to . . . Life was full of such moments, she decided later. And held to that idea for the rest of her life

And, rarely, they might have a sense in the moment: “He said, from by the window, “If I walk towards you, it feels like so much changes.” Whether these pivot points tilt the character, the situation, the world to good or ill varies. Life, after all, both gifts us with joy and burdens us with sorrow, and Kay’s characters across their spectrum and often across their individual lives get their fair (or unfair) share of each. That joy might be a shared love (even if one delayed), deep friendship, or warm familial relationship. It might come via art, both the observing and the making of it. It might be the offer of as simple fire, both the promised warmth and the offer itself — “The kindness of ordinary people, even amid their own sorrows and hardship, Robbin de Vaux thought. Not for the first time.” — or support from an unexpected quarter: “He did nothing wrong!” cried Fermin Lessieur. Which was, Thierry thought, unexpectedly brave. People could surprise you.” As we’re told after the revelation of one particularly moving moment of joy: “We can be given such gifts sometimes, if we are deeply fortunate.”

Of course, the flip side of life’s joy is inevitable, given that we’re mortal. And Kay has always been a writer of loss as well as happiness. Sometimes one follows on the other, sometimes one balances one character’s experiences with another’s. Sometimes they are deeply intermingled, as in one instance where Kay twists historical events to provide an unexpected happy ending, but one that comes via the poignant sacrifice of someone else. If our lives, our loves, come to an inevitable end, so too does another of our joys, for art too is often lost. Not always, not all of it, but still too much. As Kay writes, “So much uncertainty lies in art, and what endures. Where and when the lightning flash of brilliance will strike. What is valued in a given time, or over time. And what is lost, forgotten.” Still, we can take some comfort in what remains: “Surviving through time is a victory for art.” And for us as well.

This mingling of joy and sorrow, the pleasure of the moments we exist in and the inevitable end we all come to is conveyed through a running theme of “interludes”:

It seems to me that most moments in a life can be called interludes: following something, preceding something. Carrying us forward, rising and falling, with our needs and nature and desires, as we move through our time. It also seems to me that it is foolish to try to comprehend all that happens to us, let alone understand the world.

The book itself I’d argue mirrors this concept in its structure, the way it pauses for a while to focus on a time, then jumps ahead to detail another period, skipping over whatever intervening months/years took place. The story, therefore, is not a seamless narrative but more a series of situations (“vignettes” or “moments” conveys a shorter time than is often covered). Personal responses to this structure will of course vary, but I for one found it effective in its pacing but more so I loved it for how it mirrored one of the novel’s major themes. A theme laid out overtly when Thierry recalls that “Someone had written that life was an island of light between darkness and darkness.”

I’ll confess here my ignorance as to whether Thierry is directly quoting an actual person (maybe even the poet he is based on?), but it called to mind to me Nabakov’s line from Lolita that “Life is just one small piece of light between eternal darknesses.” Apologies to Kay if I missed the allusion (an even stronger apology if it references his own work), but either Thierry’s direct quote or Nabokov’s quite similar concept obviously mesh well with a book titled “Written on the Dark” that focuses on “interludes.” Beyond the title and Thierry’s recollection, the idea makes its presence felt through the imagery of light and dark that runs throughout the novel.

• The mad king of Ferrieres “entangled in a furious darkness of the mind” but who also experiences times (interludes) of lucidity.

• A description of chance and fate working their influence: “What takes place, what does not: so many forks and branches along the twisting roads of time, so many wheels of fate turning, turning, lifting and lowering, one person, another, into light, into darkness“

• Thierry rising “shape lines in the dark “ via light of the candle (art its own form of light amidst the darkness)

• Window lights shining in the night, the presence of life in the darkness

• Two men walking together, “their lives, long or short, brightly lit or dark-ensnared, lay ahead of them.”

It’s a wonderfully subtle use of structure, imagery, and POV, all of them working toward the conveyance of a bittersweet theme and honestly is worth the price of admission alone in my mind.

As is so much more. I’d love to spend time talking about Kay’s intricate plotting. The way he sets the reader up for scenes to come, the slow accretion of detail that reveals an important moment in Thierry’s life, the way characters and moments circle around to meet or echo past events. Or his use of the “half-world”, the light touch of fantasy that lies atop this grittier world of politics and murder and taverns. The various poems scattered throughout.

But this review is already getting quite long, so I’ll close with one final exploration. And in the spirit of the times, I’m going make a statement about Written on the Dark, that I have no idea if it’s true or not. Because while I don’t know this to be the case, Written on the Dark feels like Kay’s most elegiac work.

Which is saying something, given that his books, as noted, have always been a bittersweet mixture of life’s most wonderful and most mournful moments. Admittedly, to fully feel confident about my description, I’d have to go back and reread his prior works over a short period of time. Something I plan on doing anyway for the sheer pleasure, but not for this review. So why do I feel this way?

Honestly, it’s not something I can nail down. Partly it’s simply the sense of loss that pervades portions, particularly the closing of this book (and perhaps coming so much at the close the feeling lingered more strongly compared to other books). Partly I’m sure the theme of our lives being but brief periods of light between eternal darknesses. It’s possible a major part is that Kay feels more overtly present in this book as an author than in prior ones (though again, I lack confidence here since it’s been anywhere from a few years to 30 years that I’ve read any particular book by him, so perhaps I’m just forgetting).

Here, for instance, is a description of Marina’s work:
That poem was Marina di Seressa’s truth superimposed on the absence of knowing what had happened. Or, more properly, it was her invented tale. Not quite the same thing. Not quite. But near enough to make such stories one of the things we use to carry us through the uncertainty of our own days.

Which could serve just as easily as a descriptor for Kay, who takes what we call “history” and invents what happens in our gaps of knowledge (or even changes history to suit his needs).

Or there is the seer Gauvard, the person granted occasional if partial access to the half-world, who makes a plea to whatever powers live there to save his nephew Medor. A plea that Silvy questioned him about afterward:

“What . . . what were the words you said?” she asked. “I heard them, but I didn’t understand.” “I don’t know,” he said, a hollow whisper. “I don’t remember any words. What did I say?” “You said Weaver at the Loom,” Silvy told him. “I don’t even know what that means!” Gauvard said.”

A phrase somewhat oblique, but that gains some added weight coming after an earlier vision by Thierry:
It was as if, he thought, someone was scripting all their lines, writing them down, assigning them roles. He pictured a man, bearded, blue-eyed, no longer young, evoking them all, guiding what they were to say, and do. Shaping and telling their stories, perhaps with compassion, perhaps even with love.

Which is of course about as overt as one can get. I suppose this could all be labeled some metafictional elements or some cute insider joking, but maybe it’s that “no longer young,” maybe it’s the numerous references to his other works, particularly in the epilogue, maybe it’s the line musing about what art will last and which will be forgotten. Or maybe it’s this summative note by one of the characters:
And so, finally, at this leaving and this end, is truth, among all the interwoven tales: I knew love, had true friends, may have done good in the world in a time that threatened war. And I wrote some poems. I did that. I did that.”

I don’t like reading characters as authors. Too often too much can go badly awry in doing so. And I’m absolutely sure, as always, that’s colored by my own experiences: moving into my 60s (having outlived the prior generations of the men in my family by several decades now), a son graduating college, a wife retiring, the sense of all that is good about our country being drowned in the creek out back. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that for whatever reasons internal and external, this novel left me with a deeper sense of sadness than usual and also with a sense of Kay considering his own legacy, his life’s work, his true friends and poems (and novels).

That said, that sadness was more than balanced out by the sheer pleasure of reading a writer of such stylistic grace and elegance, such meticulous plotting, and who brings such evident warmth and empathy to his creations. As Thierry might say, he did that; he did do that.

Guy Gavriel Kay returns with another historical fantasy novel this time set in medieval France. While this one won’t be hailed as another masterpiece, Kay certainly doesn’t disappoint with Written on the Dark which is well crafted and easy to get lost in. This novel follows Thierry Villar as its main character, a somewhat notorious tavern poet drawn into events much larger than himself. Kay explores many familiar themes and ideas around politics, power, gender, art, love, legacy, and more, all woven beautifully together into a very satisfying story.

Kay is a bit more understated with his prose in this one, with shorter sentences and interesting cadences playing off the centering around poetry, but still has quite a few extremely memorable and beautiful excerpts (including a new favorite for me). This novel manages to have the characters be very close to the big events while still wonderfully exploring the idea of ‘interludes’ in life and the small, inconsequential people that are impacted by larger events. This too is something Kay has explored before, but I found the poignancy here wa s especially strong.

You can feel Kay’s hand shepherding this particular story along, and some passages come across as feeling very personal. We get to see some great tidbits that relate to some of Kay’s other works as well, and Kay’s normal flair for making you think you know how a historical event will turn out but instead going his own way. All in all this is a very good book that fans of Kay will certainly enjoy, and with it’s shorter length and fairly accessible prose may be a good one for new readers to dip their toe into this author with as well.

Written on the Dark is another stunning historical fantasy from the masterful pen of Guy Gavriel Kay, who this time turns to medieval France for inspiration.

In many ways, this is a story about stories – about who tells them, how they tell them, and how we interact with them. As the old saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but so is history. We get history told by those who were there and those who weren’t, but those who insist on being remembered and those who are content to be forgotten. All of this is wrapped up in the story of a poet (Thierry Villar) who even steps outside the narrative at times to offer brief asides to the reader, some adding color to what’s passed, and some foreshadowing what’s to come.

While much of this is precisely what you’d expect of Kay – history, drama, politics, and storytelling – there are two elements that stood out for me. The first is the women of the tale, probably my favorite in anything Kay has ever written. Silvy and Marina, their lives intertwined with that of Thierry, are wonderfully written characters, and the crossing of their affections is a quiet, subtle, but wonderful moment. Jeannette was an interesting character (as much as I chafed a bit against the introduction of a Joan of Arc figure), and Alaina, for the very little that we see of her, is just magical. The second is the character of Gauvard Cole, easily my favorite creation of Kay’s since Fionavar. Described as having an “element of uncertainty” and “a name wrapped in mystery,” who isn’t “exclusively male or female” but “changeable,” it’s not clear whether they’re transgender, nonbinary, or intersex, but I loved them and their role in the story.

Narratively, it’s a bit of an odd story, skipping between characters, places, and plotlines, with those asides I mentioned earlier, but it all works . . . all comes together . . . all accentuates the story or the history or perhaps both.

Kay is always excellent, his prose is beautiful and he knows when to focus on the intimate details of a scene between just a few characters and when to pull back and show an overview of a situation, or let the reader know what's happening to someone many years after the main story. This one has the historical connections/influences that he is known for and it's very well done, inspired by several real life events but making its own original story. Lots of family and relationship stuff, some political stuff and a little bit of mortal peril.

I was so excited about this book, but unfortunately nothing about it worked for me. The prose is a strange mash up of styles. It’s partly formal, like in classics, but then it also has a very stilted, casual style. It’s very strange and made it difficult for me to sink into the story. I thought that maybe I’d get used to it after a while, but I never did.

The plot started off interesting, and I thought that it would be enough to pull me into the story, despite my issues with the prose, but after the initial chapters it felt like nothing was moving forward and I got bored.

Nothing clicked for me with this book, and it felt like I was just wrestling with it the whole time. So after 90 pages I decided to DNF.

A beautifully written book about a poet who helps solve an assassination then must survive the fallout from being involved in the investigation. Following a few different POVs this was a beautiful story with lots of heart and character. I love Guy Gavriel Kay's prose and worlds that he builds with seemingly little effort. This feels like a love letter to poetry and craft while also having deep politics and lots of characters that have parallels to our own historical figures.