First, I'd like to say this is not Shakespeare's Tempest but there's no doubt that play was lurking in Louisa Trent's mind as she shaped this story.

Though Amilaw is not Miranda, and Kore is not Ferdinand, there are some similarities. Prospero and Miranda are marooned on an island; Amilaw is marooned on a backwards planet, the only survivor of her group. Miranda's father controls magic; Amilaw may not have fairies at her beck and call, but she's a shape-shifter and that is magic enough for me. Ferdinand will inherit the kingship of Naples if he survives the island; Kore rules his people, the Hunters, already and has a prophecy to fulfill.

Unlike Shakespeare's Tempest, this Tempest does not occur on earth, and it is science not magic that explains the disasters. Amilaw is a red-haired stranger. In a world where it is wrong to be different, she is. Even though she has difficulties adjusting to the homogenized culture of the Sald society which rescues her, and into which she is adopted, she cares for her new people, but conforming is challenging for someone who is not of their world--especially if you consider that she's a shape-shifter. It would seem that for a shape-shifter, non-conformity is not only the norm--it is intrinsic. Only one member of the Sald--Sethne, from whom she steals a kiss--seems to have a trace of interesting rebellion--but even his appeal dims when she realizes her responsibility.

A cosmic disaster is coming (the Tempest of the title) and she attempts to convince the elders of the danger, and the subsequent need to relocate, but they do not listen. Forced to an alternate strategy, Amilaw devises a plan that hinges on appealing to Kore, the leader of her adopted people's enemy. She shifts into the shape of Kore's wife who is not only deceased, but also who, when she was alive, was a faithless hussy to boot. Not the world's best choice for Amilaw, if she wants to be on Kore's good side. Furthermore, Kore nurses a broken heart over a red haired woman he once rescued from the boiling black sea, Of course, while she's wearing the shape of his faithless wife, Amilaw has no idea that her actual self is Kore's unrequited love. Talk about irony, Think of all the trouble she could have saved herself...and did I mention that Kore is psychic? Furthermore, the very idealistic Kore has low self-esteem and a strong altruistic streak. He's convinced that he's ugly, that his scarring is ugly, and that he should cover up that ugliness with hair, a fashion statement that has negative cultural ramifications amongst his people. ( The accepted style is shaven.) He worries about his people even though they don't seem to worry about him at all. He worries about his latent clairvoyance and psychic abilities, which are characteristics his people are definitely not ready to fathom. But he's a charismatic leader, a fair man and, as Amilaw so delicately puts it, "an arrogant tight ass."

Which brings me to another point of interest. Amilaw is part of a non-interfering shape-shifter gypsy tradition, flying about space. Amilaw's articulations give her a unique voice. She grew up on a steady diet of intercepted television broadcasts, so she enters this story speaking in a vivid diction revealing a major grasp of colloquial Americanisms from groovy to mellow, while both factions of the indigenous inhabitants have a retro medievalism hovering somewhere between cavemen and the Dark Ages. Kore is the head honcho, and, with Sethne as a complication, Kore is selfless enough that it's hard to tell who will end up on top.

Tempest is a fun read with a significant entertainment quotient enhanced by what is mostly a Domination/submission facade as Kore and Amilaw--if you'll pardon the pun--feel each other out. In fact, I'm moved to suggest that every smart-mouthed space-traveling gypsy shape-shifter should have her own "sanctimonious, overgrown, overbearing, overly hirsute, under-evolved humanoid" psychic barbarian.

Reviewed by Maîtresse
© August 2006