Houston Southard

Nicholas Eames - Kings of the wyld

The first in a saga that would have even Terry Prattchett rolling in his grave, Kings of the Wyld is the kind of book that means to make you laugh but accidentally jerks your heartstrings along the way.

With a medievalish fantasy backdrop, Eames weaves up a world where groups of monster mercenaries known as bands take on the same notoriety as modern day rockstars. The bigger the monster, the better the tale. The more quipy the pre-sword-slashing harrowing retort, the greater the legend.

Thing is, the members of this band, aptly named Saga, are old. They're two decades retired, married or parenting, and their fame expanded as fast as their waistlines.

It's a motley crew ensemble resembling a washed up Mötley Crüe going on one final tour with all the tropes you'd imagine come along with it: things were far cooler back in the good old days, these new kids don’t know what they’re doing, and everyone's back is too sore to not complain about.

The characters are so dented and deep, the writing so solid, and the themes of getting old, friendship, loyalty and loss so visceral that the story becomes much more than just a light-hearted romp with old warriors slaying goblins, and ends up drawing you in and refusing to let go until the very beautiful end. It's about priorities and pride and pratfall humor as much as it is fighting and family and falling out.

We see it all from the broad-shouldered band leader's POV, and he's so utterly unimpressed by all the fantastical things he comes across that the narration lends itself more to reality than the out-of-this-world hero's journey table top gamers want to corner it into.

A bitingly funny, refreshingly poignant, and sweetly nostalgic ragtag adventure.

With its not so slumping sophomore sequel Bloody Rose leaving us hanging, I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking: Where is @bookofeames hoarding The Band #3!?