In 1610: A Sundial in a Grave, Mary Gentle employs a narrative technique similar to that used in her previous novel, Ash, presenting a supposedly "actual" historical manuscript that does not quite jibe with history as we know it to have been. In Ash, we don't really learn what's going on to account for historical discrepancies until relatively late in a hefty number of pages. In the comparatively shorter (only 594 pages!) 1610, the rationale of this alternative history is sooner apparent. One of the last living disciples of an esoteric mathematical school, astrologer Robert Fludd (a real historical personage) can foretell future probabilities. Fludd attempts to manipulate the future to avoid predictions of impending disasters, both immediate to Fludd's time (history as it really happened) and far (a cosmological disaster ahead of our time). Hence the need to murder King James. As with most political machinations, the end justifies whatever immoral means are required.

Fans will be familiar with Gentle's typical trademarks. To begin with, Rochefort's first name connotes Valentine, expert scholar and swordswoman whose adventures were recently anthologized in the White Crow omnibus. There's also Gentle's expert description of swordplay, including the horrific results of blade penetrating skin and bone that gets lost in sanitized Errol Flynn-type depictions. There's nothing gentle about a Mary Gentle fantasy: she depicts the shit and blood unflinchingly in a way you're not likely to encounter at your local Renaissance festival. Moreover, her characters are flawed (which is another way of saying they're thoroughly human), with dark tics twitching amidst even the noblest intentions. No majestic heroes or heroines boldly defeating evil in your standard fantasy quest, no simple issues painted in black and white of good versus the forces of darkness, just people struggling with their own internal dark forces to make the best out of situations over which they have no control.

1610: A Sundial in a Grave reportedly was inspired by an image Gentle had of a Japanese samurai washed up on a European beach, though it at first seems to have little to do with the European plot and characters. However, the character of Tanaka Saburo is pivotal in Gentle's consideration of the triangulation of love, duty and honorable conduct. This is an entertaining read, but an entertainment that ponders "right action," whether as creatures of fate, or creatures who make our fate. Gentle seems to imply, paradoxically, that the choice is ours.

It's also got some weird sex in it. And it's a love story more complex than happily ever after. Which makes this fantasy or alternate history or whatever you want to call it as realistic as anything that has actually happened.