Conquist Book Review

REVIEW

Conquist by Dirk Strasser is an immersive historical fantasy that takes readers into 16th-century Peru during the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire, blending real events or details with a gripping, imaginative story. The novel follows Capitán Cristóbal de Varga, a conquistador on a quest for glory, who stumbles upon something far more transformative than gold—a hidden world that forces him to confront his deepest beliefs and inner struggles.

What stood out to me from the beginning was the book’s unique setting and premise. There aren’t many novels (if any?), especially in the fantasy genre, that focus on the Inca civilization and Spanish conquistadors. Strasser skillfully weaves history and fantasy together, capturing the tension between cultures while adding an intriguing layer of the supernatural. The historical details appear to be well researched; at the same time, the fantasy elements—like the mysterious portal that Cristóbal’s lieutenant, Héctor Valiente, discovers—create an exciting sense of mystery and adventure. Even more, I enjoyed Strasser’s use of literary devices and symbolism (for example, the portal symbolizing the passage into a world that challenges Cristóbal’s belief system) as well, adding complexity to the narrative.

Cristóbal is a compelling protagonist, and his character arc is truly one of the book’s highlights. At first, he’s driven by ambition and a hunger for fame, wanting his name to be remembered alongside conquistadors like Francisco Pizarro and Hernán Cortés. But as the story progresses, he starts to question his motives, his beliefs, and even his identity. His actions, thoughts, and in particular, his diary entries (which are scattered throughout the novel), offer some of the most insightful and reflective moments:

Cristóbal stood in front of his men and spoke the words that he had long dreamed of saying. Words that only a true conquistador could say. “I, Cristóbal de Varga, claim this land of Nueva Tierra and all who inhabit it in the name of His Imperial Majesty Charles V, King of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor.”

As a blood-red moon hung in the sky and the wind howled around the assembled soldiers, Cristóbal was no longer certain that God could hear his words.

A leader must decide who to trust. Even the greatest leader does not absolve himself of this most intimate of necessities. Yet to forge a path that your own men spurn takes the ultimate courage. I can only hope that I have trusted wisely.

Are noble words the dawn that inevitably follows the night of death? If that is true, I am now blind to the light of day. I have found no solace, let alone any nobility, in the deaths I’ve commanded in my anger. […] Perhaps nobility isn’t a dawn but is, in truth, a flame which burns brightly, shedding heat and light on those in its orbit. Like any flame, it can be quickly extinguished by a gust of ill wind, vanishing as if it never existed and bestowing only darkness on all those that once flourished in its radiance.

And as with any flame in a storm, once it is extinguished, it is impossible to rekindle.

 Honra sobre todo. Honor above everything. Hold firmly to your honor, and all else will follow.

 I have made some unwise decisions, but what can a man do about unwise decisions except to undertake to make no more.

 I have found that obsession is a beast that can never be truly tamed.

 “I don’t believe there are any gods in this world. Not my God, and not any of yours. We all need to stop looking for them. We’re on our own here.”

Betrayal can numb your soul like the coldest of frosts. I do not accept its bitterness lightly and hope always to have the will to battle the illusive rapture that it promises. Yet I also recognize that loyalty to one must sometimes necessarily mean betrayal of another.

 It is through my resignation that I have celebrated the only true conquest, the conquest over the flaws and obsessions with which you imprison yourself. […] As a young man, I had always believed it was the outcomes of battles that determine a conquistador’s life. I cannot say that I still hold this to be true. Perhaps the decision not to enter a battle is of greater importance.

[…] No, I now understand with the certainty of all my glorious and pitiful experiences that I value above all else that my words are heard. Even if no one saw the condor disappear, it existed.

It’s this internal battle that makes Cristóbal’s journey feel so personal and perhaps relatable, even within the grand scope of a historical fantasy. 

Furthermore, one of the strengths of Conquist is how it uses Cristóbal’s quest as a backdrop for deeper themes of self-discovery, obsession, honor, ambition, and the human tendency to chase after something—whether it’s gold, power, or salvation—only to question it later.

We conquistadors suffer from a disease whose symptom is an insatiable thirst for gold. Unlike other fevers, ours cause those innocent of infection to die. I know this, yet I still write these words in the fervent hope that my name will echo with Francisco Pizarro and Hernán Cortés.

 “Men destined for great things see what others don’t. I ask each of you what you see. I see a new world before us. Nueva Tierra. […] And what is the greatest achievement a man can accomplish in this lifetime?” He paused. “To conquer a new world.”

“You made the right decision.”

“Did I? How can it be the right decision if it leads to the very thing it was supposed to stop?”

“Sometimes decisions work out that way.”

 “You know, I think we’re all trapped by our ambitions. We build our own prisons with the bricks of our passions. Whether it’s the desire for gold or the desire to save souls.”

“What’s a man’s life worth once he abandons his life’s work?”

 “Good fortune plays a part in every success, Capitán.”

“I’ve always thought that’s the excuse of someone who will never achieve anything.”

“Or the lament of someone who really hasn’t had much luck.”

These reflections run throughout the novel, and it’s not just Cristóbal who wrestles with being consumed by ambition or similar ideas and struggles. The supporting characters, like his Incan ally/love interest Princess Sarpay, as well as his own men, also have their own motives and ambitions, often leading to tension and betrayal. 

On that note, the relationship between Cristóbal and Sarpay is interesting, layered with desire, power struggles, and cultural differences. Sarpay is no mere side character; she’s a force of her own, often manipulating the situation to protect her people’s interests. There’s a brilliant moment when Sarpay presses her lips to Cristóbal’s and says, “Do you know, Cristóbal, that we Incas only kiss our gods?” that is such a power play. 

Another character whose development piqued my interest was Padre Núñez, a devout Franciscan priest who becomes more conflicted as the story unfolds. His crisis of faith often mirrors Cristóbal’s own internal struggles, and his journey, more so later on, was fascinating to read. Indeed, the religious and philosophical questions raised by all—Cristóbal, Núñez, Sarpay, the ñakaqs (a people the Spaniards run into)—add an unexpected depth to the novel, making it more than just an adventure story. 

“You have the wrong view of eternal damnation, Capitán. Hell has nothing to do with dying an agonizing death. It’s failing again and again in the one thing you most strive for. […] What is it you desire most, Capitán? What would eternal damnation be for you? Let me guess. Perhaps slowly to lose your command until you have no one left? Or could it be for your sense of honor to leak away until nothing remains? Or is it for you to achieve greatness, without anyone ever knowing what you’ve accomplished?”

Is it possible to know what it is that you most desire? I battle with this most deceptive of all questions, the beating heart of all our actions. For the mind can play itself for a fool. How can a man be certain that what he believes to be his most ardent yearning isn’t merely the hungers of others? Do we crave only the golden prizes that are held aloft by others to entice us? Do we conceal our true passions behind a mask of the passions of others? Are we ashamed of what the truth will reveal to ourselves? […] I realized that a man who has no answer is squandering his life. And one who has a false answer is a shallow pool.

What man has the right to denounce another a demon? Who can truthfully make such judgment with the acuity of the unblemished? Should we not first be vigilant for demonic shadows that blight our own being? Should we not first watch the dark dance that plays our thoughts and dreams? Should we not first peer into our own souls?

My review thus far notwithstanding, the novel isn’t without its challenges. Initially, I found it difficult to keep track of all the characters, and the pacing is slower, something that some readers may not necessarily appreciate. However, once I adjusted to the large cast, I was able to fully appreciate the story’s depth. The antagonist (or at least, one of the antagonists) was also sufficiently loathsome and annoying, which is always a good sign in a book like this—he was easy to hate and made the stakes feel higher.

Dirk Strasser has crafted a story that not only takes you on a “physical” journey through the mountains and valleys of Peru but also a mental journey through the labyrinth of self-reflection. As Cristóbal states, “Words are real, maybe more real than anything else,” a sentiment that sums up the novel’s power—just as Cristóbal’s journal, his words, summed up the power of his journey. It’s not just about what happens, but about how those events are remembered, and the personal narratives we construct around our lives. 

Overall, the combination of history and fantasy, along with the rich, thought-provoking, character development, made Conquist a memorable experience. If you’re looking for a book that’s not only exciting but also makes you reflect on the nature of conquest—both external and internal—Conquist is well worth the read.

Content warnings include violence, death, suicide, and infanticide.

Publication date was 30 August 2024.