If you haven't picked up any books by John Gwynne yet, you might want to hold off. Seriously. Once you experience how this man writes a shield wall or a desperate, mud-slicked last stand, the "standard" high fantasy you used to love is going to start looking a little thin. It's like switching from a butter knife to a sharp seax. Everything else feels blunt by comparison.
Most authors describe a battle. Gwynne makes you taste the iron in the air and feel the vibration of a spear hitting a wooden shield in your own teeth.
He’s a Viking reenactor in his spare time. That isn’t just a fun "author bio" factoid. It is the literal DNA of his writing. When he describes the weight of mail or the exhaustion of swinging a sword for ten minutes, he isn’t guessing. He knows. That authenticity has turned him from a debut author back in 2012 into one of the undisputed heavyweights of the modern genre.
The Banished Lands: Where It All Started
Before he was winning the David Gemmell Morningstar Award, John Gwynne was a guy writing at his kitchen table while caring for his daughter. That grounded, family-first perspective is why his characters feel so painfully real. You aren’t just reading about "The Chosen One." You’re reading about a kid named Corban who is terrified of failing his dad.
The Faithful and the Fallen is his first big quartet. It starts with Malice. If you’ve heard people talking about books by John Gwynne, they usually start here.
On the surface? It looks like classic fantasy. There’s a prophecy. There’s a "Bright Star" and a "Black Sun." Good vs. Evil. But Gwynne pulls a fast one on you. He takes those tropes and grounds them in such brutal, visceral reality that you forget you’re reading a story about giants and talking crows. He focuses on the "war band"—the idea that who you fight next to is more important than the kingdom you’re fighting for.
Breaking Down the Series Order
If you’re the type who needs a roadmap, here is how the Banished Lands books actually fit together. Don't let the titles confuse you; it's a linear progression even if the names sound similar.
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First, you have the core quartet: Malice, Valor, Ruin, and Wrath. This is the epic struggle. It’s a long journey, but by the time you hit the halfway point of Ruin, you won’t be able to put it down.
Then comes the sequel trilogy, Of Blood and Bone. This takes place about 130 years after the first series. You’ve got A Time of Dread, A Time of Blood, and A Time of Vengeance. What’s cool here is seeing how the "heroes" of the first books have been turned into legends—and how those legends aren't always accurate. It’s a gritty look at history and how it gets warped over time.
Bloodsworn Saga: The Viking Renaissance
Then everything changed. While the Banished Lands books were great, the Bloodsworn Saga—starting with Shadow of the Gods—took Gwynne to a whole different level of fame.
Viking fantasy is a crowded room these days. Everyone is doing it. But Gwynne's version? It feels lived-in. He ditch the "horns on helmets" nonsense and leans into the terrifying mythology of the Norse. In this world, the gods are dead. Or rather, they were killed by humanity, and their bones are now being harvested for power.
It’s messy. It’s cold. Honestly, it’s kinda terrifying.
The characters here aren't knightly. Orka, a fan-favorite who basically redefined the "warrior mother" archetype, isn't interested in saving the world. She just wants her son back. And if she has to butcher half a continent to do it, she’ll do it with a dull axe and a scowl. This is where books by John Gwynne really started trending on BookTok and Reddit. The pacing is faster, the stakes feel more intimate, and the world-building is steeped in "The Snapped Vow" and "The Bloodsworn."
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Why the Combat Hits Different
Most fantasy authors treat combat like a dance. It’s "he parried, then he thrust, then he spun." Gwynne treats it like a car crash.
He focuses on the sensory overload. The smell of "piss and terror." The way a shield shatters. He uses terms like the edge-fray, the shield-burg, and the red-mist. It creates a frantic, claustrophobic feeling that most writers just can't replicate. If you’ve ever wondered why his fans are so cult-like in their devotion, this is why. He makes the "war" in "epic war fantasy" feel like a legitimate threat to the characters you love.
The Human Element in High Fantasy
You can have all the cool monsters in the world—and Gwynne has plenty, from giant talking bears to wolven—but if the people suck, the book sucks.
Gwynne’s secret weapon is the "found family" trope. He builds these small groups of warriors who love each other fiercely. Then, because he's a bit of a sadist, he puts them through the wringer. You will cry. It’s basically a guarantee. Whether it’s a hound dying to protect its master or a mentor finally falling in battle, he knows exactly where to twist the knife to make it hurt the most.
He also avoids the "villain for the sake of being a villain" trap. Mostly. In The Faithful and the Fallen, characters like Nathair truly believe they are the hero of the story. They think they are the "Bright Star." Watching a character justify terrible things because they think they’re the "good guy" is way more interesting than a dark lord sitting on a spikey throne.
Common Misconceptions About Gwynne's Work
A lot of people skip the early books by John Gwynne because they think Malice starts too slow. I get it. The first 200 pages are a lot of world-building and teenagers learning to fight.
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But that’s the trap.
Gwynne is a master of the "slow burn." He lays the foundation so that when the world eventually explodes, you actually care about the ruins. If he started with the blood-letting, you wouldn't give a damn about Corban or Camlin.
Another weird myth is that you have to read them in order of publication. While I’d recommend it, you could technically jump into Shadow of the Gods without ever touching the Banished Lands. They are completely different universes. One is a pseudo-European high fantasy with fallen angels and giants; the other is a Norse-inspired apocalypse. Choose your flavor.
How to Get Started with John Gwynne
If you’re looking to dive in, don't just grab the first book you see at the airport. Think about what you actually like in a story.
- For the Epic Scale Lover: Start with Malice. It’s a massive, sweeping story that rewards patience. By the time you get to Wrath, you’ll feel like you’ve lived a second life.
- For the Action Junkie: Go straight to Shadow of the Gods. It’s leaner, meaner, and gets to the point a lot faster. The sequel, The Hunger of the Gods, and the finale, The Fury of the Gods, maintain that breakneck speed.
- For the Animal Lovers: Just be warned. Gwynne loves animals, which means he writes them well, which means it hurts ten times more when they're in danger. Storm the wolven is a literal icon of the genre for a reason.
Actionable Next Steps for Fantasy Readers
If you want to maximize your experience with these books, don't just skim them. The depth is in the details.
- Check out the pronunciations. Especially in the Bloodsworn Saga, Gwynne uses a lot of Old Norse-inspired terminology. Knowing how to say "vaesen" or "drigi" in your head makes the immersion much smoother.
- Track the maps. Gwynne’s worlds are geographically complex. In the Banished Lands, knowing where the Desolation is versus the Giant's Path actually matters for the strategy of the battles.
- Join the community. Places like the r/Fantasy subreddit or Gwynne’s own social media (where he often posts pictures of his dogs and his forge) are great for catching the subtle historical nods he weaves into the prose.
- Read the David Gemmell influence. If you finish all of Gwynne's work and need more, go back to the source. Read Legend by David Gemmell. You’ll see the DNA of Gwynne's "heroic fantasy" style right there in the roots.
Gwynne’s work represents a shift in modern fantasy—a move away from the nihilism of "grimdark" where everyone is a jerk, and back toward "heroic fantasy" where characters actually try to be good, even when the world is screaming at them to be monsters. It’s brutal, yes. But it’s never hopeless. That’s the real reason his books stick with you long after the final page is turned.