The Religion

The Religion, by Tim Willocks

From an online review. I can’t say it better:

This is what we dream of: to be so swept away, so poleaxed by a book that the breath is sucked right out of us. Brace yourselves.

I’ve loved Willocks since I first read Bloodstained Kings. I read everything of his years ago. So when I saw he had a new one out, I bought it. Instantly and without consideration.

What a belter of a book. I’m only half way through, but dammit, it’s worth being read, even if the end is kak.

If you like historical fiction, this is a must. And Willocks writes with the most visceral use of language I’ve come across in a while. Apart from Ramona. In fact, this book makes me think of Ramona. A lot. Lots of bodily fluid everywhere. Graphic, brutal and utterly compelling.

Basically, the year is 1565. Suleiman the Magnificent, emperor of the Ottomans, has brought a huge armarda of war ships to lay waste to the island of Malta, defended by the order of the Knights of Saint John the Baptist. Against this backdrop, Mattias Tannhauser, the “hero” of the story, is tasked to helping the Contessa Carla find her lost son. He’s a brutal, scarred, cunning, complex, swashbuckling man, with a past that gives him access to both the Turks and the Knights.

Bang in some evil dudes from the Inquisition, a brawling lout of a best friend called Bors and a whimsical, unearthly woman who is Carla’s companion and a seer of visions, and you have a ripper of a novel.

I’m utterly, utterly hooked. And Mattias is a rock star. Lust has a new name!

AND I’ve just found out it’s a trilogy! Joy.