CAMERON SULLIVAN The Red Winter. Reviewed by Robert Goodman

Australian Cameron Sullivan’s debut fantasy features a demon, a monster, dark humour and a reimagining of French history.

While romantasy is having a moment, another corner of the fantasy world – ‘grimdark’ – is also in good shape. Grimdark is a subgenre of fantasy that is generally grittier, more violent and peopled with less black-and-white characters and anti-heroes. That does not mean grimdark is humourless, but the humour tends to be darker. The subgenre is typified by authors like Joe Abercrombie, Anna Smith Spark, Mark Lawrence, RF Kuang and Andrzej Sapkowski. Stepping confidently into this milieu with his debut novel The Red Winter is Australian author Cameron Sullivan. The Red Winter a dark historical fantasy that provides a fantastical underpinning to some critical points in French history.

The Red Winter starts in the present. The narrator ‘decided to write all this down while on a business trip to my European offices in Florence’. There he finds an old brooch, which sends him searching through his attic, where he finds a chest, a ‘relic of the French Empire, decorated with scenes of the Revolution’. It is here we learn that the narrator, soon to be revealed as a man called Sebastian Grave, has an ‘indwelling spirit’, a demon called Sarmodel. The two were paired in the ancient past and their connection has essentially made Sebastian immortal. And in that chest is a memento from the times he will go on to relate; times involving a man named Antione Avenel d’Ocrene, to whom the narrative is dedicated.

The main narrative begins in 1785. Professor Sebastian Grave is living in Piedmont and is visited by a man called Jacques d’Ocerne. Jacques is the son of Antoine, a man with whom Sebastian had a connection 20 years before in a place called Gévaudan, during a time known as the Red Winter. Jacques reminds him of a contract he signed to rid Gévaudan of a creature known as ‘the Beast’. It seems the Beast has returned and Antoine has summoned Sebastian to help.

This is a world of ghosts and angels and spirits. The main story draws on, or perhaps more accurately is inspired by, stories of werewolves. Sullivan, through Grave in particular, leads readers into this world through action rather than explanation, though some of its lore is dropped into not-so-academic footnotes to the text. In an early footnote, for example, the use of arcane Contracts is explained:

Contracts are the chief means of interaction between the Spiritual and Mundane realms. Truth is one of the most common, but Contracts can govern the exchange of almost anything including information, money, services and anima. They’re the main way Sarmodel and I put food on the table, often quite literally.

Sebastian, against Sarmodel’s advice, agrees to go. During the journey he discovers why the demon’s advice was probably wise, but stands by his decision. He will also end up telling Jacques the story of his first visit to Ocerne, in the region of Gévaudan, in 1766 to help rid the land of the Beast during the events later known as the Red Winter and the relationship he had with Antoine. The relationship between Sebastian and Antoine is the emotional core of the novel.

Interspersed with this is a series of chapters headed ‘Addendum’. The first has the title ‘On the Origins of Jehanne d’Arc’. These interludes are narrated by Sebastian’s bonded servant, the succubus Livia, in a very different (but no less enjoyable) style:

If you’ve come this far, you’re probably crinkling up your little meat face wondering how the succubus was permitted to use the writing machine. Did she hijack it? Will she be Scathed for leaving her sticky fingerprints on the master’s things?

No. Sebastian Grave the Midtown Lawyer has asked me to write all this down. Clearly this is some sort of punishment, but ‘clerical duties’ are in fact a minor clause in my Contract, so I am ‘delighted to oblige’.

Beginning in 1425, the Addenda tell the story of Jehanne d’Arc, the famous teen who helped break the siege of Orleans, and of the events that followed her death at the stake. This period of history is reinterpreted and will eventually tie in to the other two threads of the narrative.

The narratives wind around each other, building the reader’s understanding of the world and the players, particularly Sebastian and Sarmodel, who feature in all three. Sebastian is a fascinating central character. He is essentially immortal and can wield magic but has eschewed using that power to enrich himself or to take any form of control. Instead he seeks to protect people, even when it is not in his best interests, but is not beyond pursuing ulterior motives. The reason he goes to hunt the Beast in the first place is so he and Sarmodel can harvest its ‘anima’, which would sustain the spirit but which also gives Sebastian power.

The relationship between Sebastian and Sarmodel is delightful – a constant bickering with an underlying sense of love and respect. It’s the back-and-forth of a couple who have been together for many, many lifetimes:

You could always send the boy on his way, you know. Even if you won’t kill him, there are ways to make him forget he was even here …

I thought about it. The sensible part of me really didn’t want to go back to Gévaudan …

But if I did any of those things, I wouldn’t see Antoine again. And I needed to know. I needed to be certain.

‘No,’ I said to Sarmodel. ‘If this is something I’ve left unfinished, I need to make amends. And six hundred livres will not go astray.’

What a terrible bind, he said lightly. Is twenty years too long to wait to say ‘I told you so’? I don’t think it is.

‘What should I have done, Sarmodel? Left them all to die?’

Do you really want me to answer that?

Readers need to understand that The Red Winter is grimdark fantasy. There is plenty of painstakingly described bloody violence and monsters both actual and human. Sullivan takes a pretty cynical view of religion, and all of the characters are compromised. But there is also a sweetness and a lightness here. The relationship between Sebastian and Antoine is heartfelt (even if it is unwise and possibly doomed) as is his relationship with Sarmodel and even the one that develops with Jacques. And there is a strain of dark humour in the narrative style that keeps the whole thing afloat.

The Red Winter can be read as a standalone fantasy novel as Sullivan does essentially wrap up its main narrative, but he leaves more than a few narrative threads dangling for a potential sequel. This is the story of an immortal being and there are plenty of hints of other adventures that could occur anywhere from the ancient past to the present day. Overall this is a confident, compulsively readable debut and more exploits in this universe would be welcome.

Cameron Sullivan The Red Winter Tor Australia 2026 PB 544pp $34.99

Robert Goodman is an institutionalised public servant and obsessive reader, who won a science fiction short-story competition very early in his career but has found reviewing a better outlet for his skills. He was a judge of the Ned Kelly Awards for many years and reviews for a number of other publications – see his website: www.pilebythebed.com

You can buy The Red Winter from Abbey’s at a 10% discount by quoting the promotion code NEWTOWNREVIEW. You can also check if it is available from Newtown Library

Tags: Australian writers, Cameron | Sullivan, dark fantasy, demons, French history, grimdark, historical fantasy, Jehanne d'Arc, werewolves