While The Golden Fool is not without its moments of drama and tension, perhaps more than any of her previous work this is primarily a character study, an exploration of relationships as well as a further building upon the history and legends surrounding The Witted. Those who have been following the author's earlier series -- in my opinion a prerequisite for any full appreciation of what is taking place here -- will find themselves rewarded with revelations related to the earlier books, as well as tantalizing hints as to what may be in store for the future. Further connections are drawn between the Bingtown Traders and past and recent events in the Six Duchies, and characters from both of her previous series make reappearances. The Fool is revealed to possess yet another persona, and throughout the novel there is an impending sense of momentous events to come.

Yet the primary focus is upon FitzChivalry in his guise as Tom Badgerlock, and his changing and evolving relationships, not only with his friends and secret family, but in a more mature understanding of himself. He has grudgingly returned to his former role with the Farseers as spy and assassin, once again working with his childhood mentor, Chade. But no longer a child, he finds his earlier relationship with Chade has changed, with both men withholding secrets from one another, and an increasing tension existing between the two as their goals are no longer perceived as always being identical. Fitz's foster-son has begun his own life in Bucktown, one which begins to place both of them at odds, and a falling out occurs between Tom Badgerlock and Lord Golden that threatens to become permanent. And, with the loss of his wit-partner in the previous book, Fitz in some ways feels himself increasingly isolated, reflecting on the past as well as the present to discover that not all of his decisions and actions, despite their best intentions, have turned out as he had hoped. As in Fool's Errand, Hobb increasingly turns her attention towards an exploration of her main character's introspective and evolving knowledge of himself, reflections that all too often leave Fitz wanting, or doubtful as to the future. In doing so, the author illuminates a human condition far too familiar for most of us.

Behind his internal struggles emerge various potential threats to the Farseers. Though Fitz and the Fool rescued Dutiful from the plots of the Piebalds, it came at great cost to Fitz personally, and the original threat still remains: that both he and Dutiful will be revealed as being Witted. Laudwine still lives and the Piebalds secretly continue their efforts to overthrow the Farseer reign, persecuting those Old Bloods who will not join them, fanning the flames of hatred between Witted and the rest of the population. Dutiful's arranged bethrothal to the Outislands' narcheska unfolds badly, with evidence that someone unknown is forcing the young women into this political marriage, which neither the narcheska nor Prince Dutiful personally desire. The end result is a mutual challenge between the two that may place both at risk. And matters become further complicated by the unexpected arrival of emissaries from Bingtown who seek an alliance against Chalced that mysteriously appears to disturb the Outislanders, threatening to undo the marriage negotiations. In order to help protect the Prince and the Farseer throne, a most unlikely Skill-coterie is eventually formed.

Throughout the novel Hobb expands upon her magical elements of Skilling and The Witted, while at the same time never allowing them to dominate the more central human themes of her story. As implied earlier, her incorporation of these elements is comparatively understated, developed gradually and in a manner that seems to make them almost ordinary and naturally occurring within their setting. Loosely borrowing perhaps certain notions from Andre Norton's earlier Beastmaster (though possibly pure coincidence), Hobb has adapted the premise of men and women attuned and sharing the consciousness of animals into a mythos that goes far beyond any original, and as usual with the author's adoption of previous conventions -- be it dragons or sorcery -- completely recontextualized and made it entirely her own. This sets her work apart from most other traditional fantasy, offering a freshness of approach one might have thought exhausted when compared with many of her contemporaries. And, with her increasing emphasis upon characterization and slowly evolving plot development, Hobb brings an almost 19^th century literary sensibility to her fantasy, quite unlike any other work currently available.

If I have any quibble with her writing, it is with what I perceive as an unfortunate choice of naming conventions for the books that take place in the Six Duchies. Names like Prince Dutiful, Regal and Chivalry, King Shrewd, Lord Civil or Lady Advantage, seem singularly unimaginative and obvious within the context of writing that in all other respects is quite the opposite, and, despite any stated premise in the Farseer series, seems a lazy or poorly thought-out device that remains bothersome in its continued appearance here. Probably inevitable, as the precedence was set in the first books, but, despite their over time becoming familiar and thus largely ignorable, their presence continues to jar within the context of what in all other aspects is a skillfully and imaginatively written work that draws heavily upon realism in its style of composition.

Golden Fool, like its lead character, is further evidence of an author maturing in her skills, as well as perhaps becoming increasingly comfortable and sure of her audience. Largely abandoning the expected reliance upon action and magic to drive her narratives, the author has instead chosen to increasingly concentrate upon character development and themes of human interest and relationships readily shared and experienced by most of us, in the day to day as well as the inevitable passage of years. Our vulnerability, both real and imagined, is of equal if not greater interest to the author than any momentary heroism, and our ability to both share and alienate our experience is closely explored and examined. With great compassion and understanding, the author portrays her characters with a singularity that nonetheless can be readily recognized both in ourselves and those around us. I suspect that for many of her readers, it is this identification that draws their attention to her books, quite different from the type of voyeurism that attracts others to the heroics and romanticized virtues found elsewhere. While certainly not an approach that will appeal to all, Robin Hobb's recent novels are among the best the genre has to offer.