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.

Welp. Now I’m out of GGK to read. At least for now.

GGK’s latest, out in a couple of weeks, is Written on the Dark and it is fantastic in all the ways GGK novels can be and are. For the first time in quite awhile, we leave his “not quite Italy” (Batiara) and focus for the first time on the nation of Ferrieres (not-quite France) and the people inhabiting its capital city, Orane (not-quite Paris). The backdrop is GGK’s version of the 100 Years War between Ferrieres and Angland (not-quite England). The timeline is a jumble of versions of real-world events. The murder of one of the mad-king’s brothers mirrors the real life murder of Philip, Duke d’Orleans in 1404. There is an invasion by a not-quite Henry V of England. There is a not-quite Joan of Arc.

We move backwards in the timeline of his universe – Sarantium is still around. Indeed, while there are a few references here and there, this is the first really self-contained GGK novel in quite awhile – in some deliberate ways, the first since The Last Light of the Sun, our only other peak at Angland. That’s except for the epilogue, which links everything together to the whole.

And there is poetry. Beautiful poetry. I had never heard of the inspiration for the main character of Written on the Dark (Thierry Villar), the French medieval poet, Francois Villon. That’s no great shock (I’m shockingly weak on medieval French history – I don’t tend to pick up the French history stuff that predates the Reformation). And now I want to seek him out, because there is so much fascinating culture at work here. Orane and Ferrieres have been rather opaque throughout GGK’s “Jaddite novels,” but here we get them beautifully and vividly presented.

Written on the Dark has all the hallmarks of a standard GGK novel. Just a twinge of the fantastic (this one might have had more than the prior three novels combined). A fun main character. Side characters who are brought to amazing detail even if their time on the page is limited. Gorgeous amazing poetic prose that is unmatched in fantasy writing. A plot that isn’t as important as the characters in the plot – even if the events are “big events,” it is about the people. A love for the common people who live outside the story until they briefly appear…only to leave again.

There is a part of me that wonders if this was intended as a final novel. There is a lot here about art and being remembered. Perhaps GGK is simply at the age where that sort of thing weighs on the mind.

There are so many fantastic characters to mention here (Medor Colle was a personal favorite of mine), but I want to close this review talking about one character in particular. The story of Jeanette of Broche, the Maiden (his version of Joan) features another classic GGK side character. Lysbet Guerin.

She appears only briefly – she drifts in and out of the story in classic GGK fashion. Is mentioned only at one small point. But my goodness. Her story. My gods her story. As GGK puts it:

Brave beyond any words one might ever offer.

JFC is that true. I wept at her story.

This is a fantastic book. And now I’m sad because I don’t have any GGK to read new until he writes something else. So get on that, sir!

5 stars.

Thank you to NetGalley and Berkley/Ace/Penguin Random House for the opportunity to read an advance copy of this wonderful novel. All opinions are my own and are uncompensated. Written on the Dark is out on May 27 and you can preorder it here. Do it. Do it now.

Thierry Villar is an infamous tavern poet. A charming rogue who loves his city as much as another man might love a woman, he finds himself caught up in the schemes of the more powerful. Assassins and armies, aristocrats and royalty, and poor Thierry stuck in the middle. But he’ll do anything to save his beloved Orane.

Written on the Dark starts out a bit slowly; it’s a slower paced read and it took me a bit to get into the groove, but my god, was it beautiful. I know that “lyrical” is a word that gets thrown around to describe beautiful prose, but this story truly flowed in a way that defies my description. It was stunningly, beautifully written.

The story centers around Thierry but he’s not the only POV character, and we get several interludes with others. Some smaller, some larger, and we get peeks into side events that add a greater depth to the story. You really feel like each character has their own epic story that we only get a tiny glimpse into, just like life, before the current of the story pushes us back to the central conflict.

This was melancholy and poetic and full of soul. Fans of Guy Gavriel Kay will certainly love this, and I think anyone who appreciates beautifully crafted stories will enjoy it.

Thank you Netgalley and Berkley Publishing Group for the ARC in exchange for my opinions.

First of all, thank you so so much to NetGalley and Berkley Publishing Group for providing me with an ARC of this wonderful book.

When I start a new Guy Gavriel Kay novel, I go in with exceptionally high expectations based on everything I have read from this author in the past. Written on the Dark was absolutely no exception to my long-standing rule in this regard. As always, this tale and Guy’s prose work hand-in-hand to create something beautiful and heartrending that pulls you into a world of wonder, awe and excitement.

In Written on the Dark, we follow the adventures of Thierry Villar. A tavern poet with a talent for verse that while loved by the audience, is not always so well received by the subjects of his poems. This all gets interrupted one night as Thierry is headed out into the night under the cloak of darkness. But his plans become a bit derailed. This is when Thierry finds himself caught in a far-reaching web of political intrigue and deception. Into a world far beyond anything he thought was headed his way. However, we quickly learn that in addition to Thierry’s sharp wit, there is more to the inner workings of his brain that will be put to the test along the way.

Kay introduces us to an incredible cast of characters, both allies and enemies alike, each with their own strengths and weaknesses that create a multi-leveled series of connections all combining in perfect unison. Through these characters the reader experiences pain, fear, hope and family, both blood and found.

The city of Orane and the surrounding world are described and utilized in a way that keeps the story moving (literally) and helps the reader to gather a greater understanding of the world in which these characters interact and the undercurrents that control its inner workings.

A story of danger, intrigue, friendship and love, Written on the Dark encapsulates so much of what it is to be human and the joy that we can bring to those around us through perseverance, cunning and understanding. It also reminds us to not underestimate ourselves, that it is important to remember that wondrous actions and knowledge can come from the most unexpected places, sometimes even within yourself.

Thierry Villar is a notorious tavern poet who may have written his last too-clever poem one bitterly cold night in his beloved city of Orane, for he makes one wrong move on the streets and ends up in the midst of a political battle waged by those at the highest levels of power. Shadowed by assassins and hated by the people in control of the kingdom, Thierry finds an ally in the form of another poet- a woman from a faraway land celebrated for her intellect and beauty, as well as a girl who claims to hear voices that tell her how to help their ailing country. Together, they must all find a way to save themselves and their kingdom.

Whenever a new book by Guy Gavriel Kay is announced, the fantasy book community sits up and pays attention. He is renowned for his richly detailed worlds and elegant prose. Combine that with complex characters who feel like they could step off the page and introduce themselves, and you have a mix that should be a hit every time.

Sadly, Written on the Dark was a miss for me. In his acknowledgments, Kay mentions that he read and was inspired by Bart van Loo's book The Burgundians, which is a detailed and entertaining account of the rise and fall of Burgundy, which had a major influence on French and English history during the middle ages. Having read that book myself, I can agree with Kay in that The Burgundians is a fascinating work, but I wonder if in this case, the inspiration was too strong. Written on the Dark tells a story of fantasy France, where fantasy Charles VI is the nominal king. The realm is menaced by the fantasy English who are ruled by fantasy Henry V. Along the way, we encounter fantasy Joan of Arc and deal with aspects of the fantasy Catholic church. Save for some fantastical elements and a few diversions from actual historical events, if the reader knows anything about French history from the first two decades of the 1400s, they will have a good idea of what's going to happen next in the story.

Though Kay is inspired by history, he doesn't like his books to be called 'historical fantasy'. I would agree with that, as Orane isn't quite "Paris, with magic", but there is a point around the 60% mark where I might describe the story's genre as "fantasy history textbook" thanks to a seemingly endless description of what's going on in the kingdom. That was not a joy to read, though the long, dry explanations of fantasy history do eventually end, and the characters are allowed to speak again.

All of this might have been forgivable had the main character, Thierry Villar, actually been interesting. One would assume that a poet known for insulting nobility and getting away with it would be a fascinating character. Alas that Thierry Villar is just Some Guy with a penchant for referring to himself by his full name, and who is nowhere as clever as he thinks he is. What's going on around him might be interesting, but I had a hard time caring, since I was so uninterested in the main character, and often wondered why several of the side characters were there at all, since they added to nothing except the page count. Had Thierry been a more interesting character, I wouldn't have been so bothered by the many predictable plot points.

I'd been looking forward to Written on the Dark, as I've enjoyed Kay's work before, but Written on the Dark was a major disappointment.


—


Thank you to Berkley Publishing and NetGalley for the advance copy for review.

Really good book, slightly below average Guy Gavriel Kay book. For me this is in the same tier as Children of Earth and Sky, Last Light of the Sun, River of Stars, and All The Sea's of the World. I think the first 8 chapters, are good at basically everything, but lack any stand out moments. At no point in that first 40 something percent did I read something, stop and go "holy crap" which is a pretty normal occurrence in my favorite Kay books(probably about once per page in Lord of Emperors). However that was still it only being relatively weak, and stuff really picked up on ch9, and my emotional investment, and quantity of poignant moments pretty suddenly went up, and stayed that way for the back half of the novel.
(except the random interlude chapter) (Yes I know that interlude chapter ends up being important for a character interaction later working, and it was awesome, it still was less interesting to read than all the surrounding chapters)

This book starts really focused, with a lot of pages dedicated to following a small cast of characters across the span of one day, as the book goes on, the focus zooms out and I think as the cast expands, it also feels like our main character(Thierry's) friend group expands, and by the end I was extremely invested in our main cast. As a result as the book went on there was also a steady trend up in how good I thought it was. This book is probably more history bendy than most Guy Gavriel Kay books, and it does it really brilliantly. He does the thing where he gives us a change in history that we may intuitively want, but not as wish fulfillment, but then to focus on the secondary effects of that change.

Her name was Lyset Guerin, from the hamlet of Cassaude near the Livraise.
Brave beyond any words one might ever offer.


Will stick with me for a long time.

The end was one that had me on the edge of my seat. One advantage of Kay being very willing to do tragic endings, and having characters whose well being I was pretty invested in, is I got the experience of being truly uncertain which characters I cared for would live, which often doesn't happen. As I am either less emotionally invested, or I can be pretty sure based on the author/context clues from the book which characters are safe. But this had my heart pounding.

In terms of writing style, I think the average phrase length in this was shorter than most other Kay books. Almost felt slightly Glen Cookian(to a much smaller degree than Glen Cook). Kay of course does it quite well, although I think late in his career he has had a slight habit of having too many characters voices, and dialogue, sound slightly too similar to the narrator, and generally his narrator voice is pretty distinct, so it is kind of weird if most people talk like Guy Gavriel Kay narrates. And I noticed it a few times, especially early in this novel. This is the type of thing I am probably more likely too notice with authors I know really well. If this was one of the first Kay books I had read, I don't know if I would notice it. But I think it may have still bothered me a little.


Finally, I will end by saying that this is a true stand alone, and unlike All The Sea's of the World, could be read first without spoiling any other Kay book, and also is not reliant on other Kay books for emotional payoff, with one notable exception, and that is the epilogue. If this is your first Kay book, I think you should just stop at the end of the last chapter, and then go read the epilogue after you have read The Sarantine Mosaic, and A Brightness Long Ago(It's funny how frequently those are the Kay books that connect to others, maybe he subconsciously knows they are the best one, and is pressuring people to read them)(also holy crap the epilogue got me, was it reliant on nostalgia, and would it not work if previous Kay books weren't insanely awesome, sure. But it still worked, and hit me hard.)


Overall, damn good book. But when you hit tons of home runs, the bar for new hits to stand out is very high.

8.9/10

"Both sweeping and intimate, a majestic novel of love and war that brilliantly evokes the drama and turbulence of medieval France.

Thierry Villar is a well-known - even notorious - tavern poet, familiar with the rogues and shadows of that world, but not at all with courts and power. He is an unlikely person, despite his quickness, to be caught up in the deadly contests of ambitious royals, assassins, and invading armies.

But he is indeed drawn into all these things on a savagely cold night in his beloved city of Orane. And so Thierry must use all the intelligence and charm he can muster as political struggles merge with a decades-long war to bring his country to the brink of destruction.

As he does, he meets his poetic equal in an aristocratic woman and is drawn to more than one unsettling person with a connection to the world beyond this one. He also crosses paths with an extraordinary young woman driven by voices within to try to heal the ailing king - and help his forces in war. A wide and varied set of people from all walks of life take their places in the rich tapestry of this story.

A new masterwork from the internationally bestselling author of All the Seas of the World, A Brightness Long Ago, and Tigana, Written on the Dark is an elegant tour de force about power and ambition playing out amid the intense human need for art and beauty, and memories to be left behind."

This one's for my friend Sara's mom who loves Guy Gavriel Kay!

Guy Gavriel Kay's "Written On The Dark" defies fantasy's usual boundaries, creating a world where tavern warmth and political intrigue share the same page with equal brilliance. The novel weaves a tapestry where character connections feel as comforting as a fireside chat, yet the historical setting thrums with tension reminiscent of Europe's darkest medieval conflicts—a contradiction that somehow works perfectly.

At the center stands Thierry Villar, a tavern poet whose weapon of choice isn't a sword but his quick wit. Kay crafts a hero whose verbal dexterity and sharp intelligence prove more valuable than brute strength in a landscape where words can topple kingdoms. What makes Thierry truly compelling is how his relationships—from old drinking companions to newfound aristocratic allies—form the scaffolding that supports him through increasingly dangerous encounters.

The narrative's structure might initially surprise readers accustomed to more straightforward storytelling. Kay employs multiple viewpoints with a partly omniscient narrator that occasionally steps back to comment on events with almost philosophical detachment. This approach transforms what could be merely entertaining into something richly textured, allowing us to see both the intimate details of characters' lives and the sweeping historical forces that shape them.

The world of Orane feels hauntingly familiar—you'll recognize echoes of historical events and places—while supernatural elements shimmer just beneath the surface, creating a reality both grounded and magical. The cold night that launches Thierry's adventure feels so bitterly real you'll want to pull your reading blanket tighter.

For those seeking fantasy that prioritizes human connection amid political machinations, "Written On The Dark" offers a rare refuge—a world complex enough to get genuinely lost in, yet intimate enough to feel like coming home.

Thank you to Ace Books Pub and NetGalley, for the free copy for review.

Guy Gavriel Kay delivers another beautifully written story of an ordinary man who finds himself in extraordinary circumstances. Thierry is a tavern poet of some modest renown who is drawn into a world of politics and intrigue. Kay has such a particular style of alluding to and hinting at things that you always need to pay close attention to his words but that is no hardship given his carefully crafted descriptive prose. Drawing inspiration from real historical events, his reimagining of medieval France draws the reader in with longtime readers looking for tie-ins to Kay’s earlier works. And he does not disappoint.

First off, I love anything by Kay - my favourite author of all times.

I loved returning to the setting of Kay’s alternative Europe, this time Ferrieres. I loved seeing his version of Joan of Arc - the first time I’ve been able to recognize a character rather than just a place.

I very much valued the LGBTQ angle of this book. Characters ranged from straight to gay to bisexual to gender diverse and intersex, and done without making a big deal of it. People are simply people and live their lives much like anyone else.

I did find the overall plot here to be a bit less…intense? than some of Kay’s other works. It moved a bit slowly and the stakes felt less high for the central characters.

Overall, highly recommend. Then go back and read the Lions of Al-Rassan, the Sarantine duo, and all the other books that bring this rich world to life.

Thank you to NetGalley for the advanced copy.

My immediate thought after reading this was: “this is a book where you’ll find something new on every reread.”

Written on the Dark is a historical fantasy that follows a poet who gets caught up in the politics of his city when a heinous murder occurs.

I definitely started this book thinking, it’s too short for too many characters! And there were definitely times where I got a little lost, the narrative really jumps around a lot. But by the end? I was SO invested in these characters and their stories. Somehow after 300 pages I felt like I knew these people thoroughly.

Truly remarkable how Guy Gavriel Kay’s writing and prose is so nuanced. This was my first GGK but won’t be my last!

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 in the dark.

4.25 stars!

I am always left with a particular feeling when I finish a Guy Gavriel Kay book. Bittersweet yet hopeful, and incredibly moved by the story I just read. Written on the Dark is no exception. When I began reading, I was instantly engaged and continued to be engaged throughout the book. I am always sucked into Kay’s books, making for an easy and enjoyable reading experience. He just knows how to tell a story.

While this isn’t my favorite book of his, it is still quintessentially Guy Gavriel Kay. You can expect to get everything he’s known for. Beautiful prose, quick wit and surprising moments of humor, an immersive world, and likable characters who find themselves caught up in a formative part of history.

All of GGK’s book are written as a “near-history” with a quarter-turn to the fantastic, and this book takes place in a world reminiscent of medieval France, following events surrounding the Hundred Years War. Like Kay’s other works, he takes this time period of historical significance and twists it to tell the story he wants to tell. If you’re looking for pure historical fiction that faithfully follows the events of this era, you won’t find it here. It’s clearly based on that time, but Kay has the freedom to move and change things as he sees fit since this is technically a fictional world.

When it comes to the main POV of the story, this time around our focus falls on Thierry Villar, a tavern poet who stumbles into events that have far-reaching consequences for his world. I liked having this story centered on someone who would normally be nothing more than a footnote in the grand scheme of things. It’s easy to focus on the big players in a story like this, but it’s more interesting to tell it this way, through the eyes of someone who just happened to be there. There are a handful of other POVs, some with only a few paragraphs or pages. Yet even so, they still make an impression and further prove the effect anyone can have on history.

One of the things I love most about Kay’s writing is how he is able to say so much without saying anything at all. He has such a talent for giving information to the reader in a purposeful way, and it is clear that he trusts his readers to pick up on the subtext and understand what he’s saying. This book in particular showcased that talent, and I for one appreciate an author who doesn’t feel the need to spell out every single thing. It implies a mutual respect and trust between author and reader, and few writers today can manage that to the extent that Kay does. He is truly a master wordsmith, knowing exactly how to craft a sentence or paragraph to deliver maximum impact.

As usual, I ended the book with tears in my eyes. I always seem to make it through a Kay book almost to the end and think it won’t get me, yet it does every single time. I will be fine and then from one sentence to the next, I’m crying. I don’t know how he does it. Again, it’s just the way he’s expertly able to deliver a line.

This book also featured lots of Easter eggs from his previous books, so that was fun. It makes me want to go back and reread everything. That being said, it’s not necessary to have read all of those books to enjoy this one. While it’s not where I would recommend someone to start with GGK (that would be Tigana, The Lions of Al-Rassan, or A Song for Arbonne, it won’t hurt to do so. It’s a self-contained story that requires no previous knowledge of his world or his other works.

So overall, I will say that while I don’t think this is his strongest work, it is still very good. And anything that is “very good” from GGK is better than most books.

Thank you so much to Berkley for the free book!

Just another great GGK book here, even if it doesn't unseat my top 3 by him. A solid plot, tight pacing, and interesting, deep characters makes for a satisfying read. Evidently set during the Hundred Years' War, and loosely follows the life of a French poet, Francois Villon.

Thierry Villar, vaguely notable tavern poet and a self-proclaimed nobody to the realm, is tasked with stepping up and being a somebody following the murder of the King's brother. Investigating places the law can't reach, asking questions of people that they can't ask, and basically being an informant involved in a realm-shaking murder. What follows is Villar's progress from being a nobody to gaining friends in powerful circles, amidst the backdrop of a potential civil war.

What I love about this book (and GGK's books in general, but it's very evident in this book) is how he can take a minor character, even in their own story, and turn them into something living, breathing, and remarkable. The story's main character is Villar of course, but there's a slew of other POVs that each get their own backstory and contribute to the larger tale. There's also several minor characters that, while not given their own voice in the story, are sent on their literary way with a few lines from GGK about how events affected their life and how they end up. There's a couple Easter eggs here for people who read his other books.

Just a satisfying story to read. While a bit more straightfoward in the telling than some of his other books, I was still really glad to have read this, and was in love with the story/characters throughout.

Another of Guy Gavriel Kay’s beautifully written historical fantasies, this one set in a time and place reminiscent of medieval France. Tavern poet Thierry is used to the life he’s made for himself: lots of verses declaimed in the taverns, plenty of wine, some risky womanizing, and a little larceny. But one bitter winter night a shocking assassination unsettles the world around him and confronts Thierry with challenges he never expected. Ambitious plots unfold, war threatens, and Thierry must try to untangle right from wrong. What should he stand for? Who does he really want to be? Gorgeous writing and fascinating characters create a world you will not want to leave.