When we say that its potential remains unreached, what we mean is that as good as the novel is, its structure and scope conveys nothing so much as a lengthy, very interesting introduction -- a running up to the central action.  Looked at as a whole, The Blade Itself is concerned primarily with moving its various characters into position, as in the opening moves of a game of chess.  Although the plot of this first volume reveals that war is brewing, the larger picture has yet to be revealed.  Aside from a few hints, there has been no indication of how all the pieces might come together.  This is perhaps as it should be for the first book of a planned trilogy: the anxious, pregnant early chapters of The Fellowship of the Ring are some of the most exciting of the trilogy because the anticipation of adventure is sometimes even better than adventure itself.

To put it in another way, one might say that Mr. Abercrombie takes his time with his characters.  The Blade Itself is, above all, a character study.  Much has been made of his tendency to take fantasy convention and flip it on its head.  To that end, most of the main characters can superficially be categorized into classic fantasy cliches.  The wizard.  The young hero.  The fearsome barbarian.  The grizzled veteran.  The dark lieutenant.

Except here, the wizard is a plump, balding, quick-tempered old man with little patience and a very finite amount of power.  The young hero, far from the dutiful young boy-who-would-be-king, is a ponce, a narcissistic dandy with the personality of a spoiled 12-year-old.  The fearsome barbarian (the aforementioned Logen Ninefingers), on the other hand, turns out to be a rather humble, intelligent warrior, wise beyond his years, while the grizzled veteran is dealing with deep-seated identity issues, haunted by his peasant heritage amidst a city of condescending nobles.  Finally, the dark lieutenant, the inimitable Sand dan Glokta, turns out to have been a young hero once himself, before he was brutally tortured and left permanently disabled.  Now he is the torturer, living with constant pain and nursing a bitter, dark, resentful humor the reader can't help but love.

This all makes a certain amount of sense: realistically, if you're an immortal mage who has had to live to see history repeat itself and people fail to learn from their mistakes, you're more likely to be grumpy than to be a font of wisdom and patience.  Likewise, a veteran commoner granted position and rank for meritorious service amidst an elite class who look down on the peasantry is more likely to be resentful and conflicted about his government than blindly loyal.

It is in this manner that Mr. Abercrombie belongs to the new school of realistic fantasy: The Blade Itself is realistic not only in the amount of blood that flows but also in the way it portrays its characters.  The characters approach cynicism: each one has a very discernible self-interest that guides their actions and behavior.  Some are just more honest about it than others.

Logen, for instance, is consistently happy to be "still alive."  It becomes a mantra for him: "I am still alive."  A more idealistic (and ultimately lesser) writer might describe a character like Logen as being fearless, as embracing death.  As fearsome as the Shienarans are in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time, not many real people I've met, soldiers included, feel that "death is lighter than a feather."  Most people I've encountered just want to live.  That's when you know you've found a true hero: somebody who is intimately aware of how desperately they want to continue breathing and yet continues to put himself in harm's way.  Abercrombie frames the issue very matter-of-factly: Logen fights well, and viciously, because it's the best way to survive in a violent world.

Ultimately, for me, the true test of a great fantasy is not whether it can show me great battles or deadly court intrigue, but whether it can impart in me a sense of wonder, a fascination with the mystical arcane.  Magic is also very matter-of-fact in Abercrombie books: there is no in-depth discussion of what it is or how it's done.  It's just part of the world and some people can use it.  But towards the end of The Blade Itself, Abercrombie reveals more of his hinted-at pre-history: a mythic story involving demi-gods and powers beyond the mortal men of the current era, of which only Bayaz (the aforementioned wizard) has personal knowledge.  And it is in tying in the ancient to the modern that Abercrombie ultimately hooked me.  Not only is the book a gripping, bloody, adventuresome read, but it hints, like all great fantasy does, at greater, darker undercurrents of mystery.

Speaking of ultimates, the ultimate ruling on Mr. Abercrombie's The First Law must be held off until it is finished (or until we are finished reading it; see below).  But suffice it to say that The Blade Itself is an exciting read that leaves you wanting more.

Update: The First Law trilogy has indeed been completed; the third book, Last Argument of Kings, was technically published in the US on March 20, 2008.  However, as of this posting, the Amazon US page lists it as temporarily out of stock (it is unclear to us at this time whether it has yet to actually come into stock).  The book is available on Amazon.co.uk, however.