I finally got to read Overstreet’s The Ale Boy’s Feast, and I loved it. The story that appears to be about a magical rebellion to small, oppressive rulers in the first book becomes an adventure about radical reconciliation by the fourth book. It asks big questions: Can the great curse be revoked? Can a traitor return to his kingdom or be accepted in a new one? Can criminals build a new place of law and order? And more than these questions are the ones driving the narrative behind the scenes: Does the glorious beauty we see in this world point to a glorious otherworldly source? Is that beauty sewn together with love, peace, joy, and hope? Is life (in the land of these books) about rejoicing in the hope of beauty, both natural and crafted?

In the third book, we learn explosive details about Overstreet’s world. The real enemies are revealed. Plots and deceptions are discovered. A new threat, a pervasive weed that lives on blood, is tunneling from its Cent Regus heart throughout the country. Cal-raven is running for his life as well as trying to discover a new home for his people, the House Abascar which is ruined in the first book. At one point, he is compelled to rescue prisoners in House Cent Regus and is broken by what he learns there and in its aftermath.

In this book, Cal-raven begins to wander, despairing of ever answering his life-long questions. In the meantime, his loyal men attempt to follow his plans for establishing a new house without him. As they go, something seems to be poisoning everything around them. This book is the fourth of a rich, complicated series, so begin with book one. There’s no other way.

In fact, the story may be too complicated.

The conclusion of Raven’s Ladder changes everything, and the end The Ale Boy’s Feast changes it all again. Many minor characters have their hours in the spotlight, and while the story always moves forward—yes, there’s always a reward for the detour—I wonder if these books would be stronger with a bit more simplicity. A few critical details in this installment come up short for me.

Among the complexities I love is the development of The Keeper, and I don’t want to spoil it. The idea introduced in the first book which led me to speculate that this mysterious dragon was a god-figure expands to a dramatic crash at the end of book three. The explanation revealed in this book is wonderfully fantastic. This is not the least of all the things to love in these multi-layered stories.

About that which I did not like, I’ll say two things.

1. In one late chapter, two main characters argue about the larger story being revealed. They talk of lies, liars, and which historic records are true. Perhaps I should have understood by this point that one of these men had a problematic perspective, but I didn’t. I thought these two were on the same page at this point. In their argument, they seem to circle each other, not even holding to one firm perspective. It’s as if they are floating theories to fit all the facts. This argument proves to be a major revelation, both of character and story, and I believe I understand it now, but I didn’t while in the thick of it. My confusion led to frustration when one of these men takes action later on.
2. Part of this adventure’s conclusion feels a bit forced. It’s like a murder mystery being resolved by cuffing a character introduced in the last chapter. I see a poetic quality in it, a balance of images, but it doesn’t feel organic like so many other threads enjoyed in this series.

I’ll close with a beautiful thought from that chapter I criticized a few lines up. One man says, “It saddens me that you cannot imagine a life without someone to serve.” The other replies, “It saddens me that you think joy comes any other way” (pg 340).

In the end, Auralia’s radiant colors cannot be exploited for commercial or selfish gain. They are a service to others as well as a thing to be served. They “lure people out of the dark, away from all they thought they owned, and show them something grander” (pg 249).

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