Of Slicing Men

I’ll admit, I went into *Of Slicing Men* expecting another ‘rugged outsider outsmarts the elite’ story, but Ugland subverts that trope with gleeful malice. Montana isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer—he’s the one left in the gutter after the fight, and the book is *better* for it. His mistakes have consequences, and the political maneuvering isn’t just window dressing; it’s the main event. The worldbuilding is refreshingly *specific*: magic isn’t a vague force but a commodified tool, and the nobility’s power struggles feel like a cross between *The Godfather* and a corporate merger gone bloodily wrong. Hellegers’ narration elevates this further—his Montana sounds like a man who’s seen too much and trusts too little, and his ability to distinguish between a dozen scheming nobles without slipping into caricature is impressive. That said, the pacing isn’t perfect. The middle act drags slightly as Montana gets mired in courtly machinations, and while the intrigue is compelling, there are moments where the sheer *volume* of double-crosses starts to feel like a drinking game. (Take a shot every time someone’s ‘loyalty’ is revealed as a lie—you’ll be under the table by Chapter 12.) And while Hellegers’ growl suits Montana, his female voices occasionally veer into ‘generic icy noblewoman’ territory. But these are quibbles. The payoff—a climax that’s equal parts cathartic and morally ambiguous—makes the slog worth it. If you love fantasy that’s more *Gladiator* than *Game of Thrones*, where the action is visceral and the politics are a contact sport, this is your next listen. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you about the body count.