The Musashi Flex was a pleasant surprise, both in terms of its arrival, and execution. I would never have expected Steve Perry to return to his Matador series. The previous book, Brother Death, was published at least a decade ago, and by then, Perry had shifted the narrative focus to his secondary characters, with marginal results. There was nothing to suggest that the story could, nor should, move further, and as years went by, it appeared that Perry had indeed said the last word in the Matador saga.
In some respects, this fact still stands. For while Perry has written another novel that is connected to the Matador series, this one is a prequel that falls well before the story that begins in The 97th Step - which was, in fact, a prequel to the original trilogy. The events of The Musashi Flex do make an inevitable connection to the rest of the series, but these are stretched at such a distance as to accommodate a separate story.
Fortunately, the tale that Perry opted to tell is entertaining, well-written, and at times, thoughtful. Perry’s writing has improved markedly since writing The Man Who Never Missed, one of the earliest novels in the Matador series - and this is most apparent in the nature of the story. There is less violence in the present outing, and a marked decrease in sex. The main characters are all competent within their sphere of experience, and act with intelligence, propelling the plot in a coherent direction that never asks for suspension of disbelief. The challenges they grapple with are more introspective, and relate directly to their personalities.
This is not to say that Perry has moved away from his sure formula, which is to mix martial arts with elements of space opera. The book begins with Perry’s traditional first sentence, and immediately leads into a knife duel. The fighting is described in terse passages of clear prose, with just enough technical detail to convey the skill of the participants, without slowing down the natural flow of the action. Other writers lack this sense of restraint, and delve into so many specifics, their action scenes start to read like a checklist of martial arts moves.
Exciting as these fight scenes are, the most enjoyable parts of The Musashi Flex were those passages that cover various aspects of the martial arts. These passages are informed by Perry’s personal experience in the martial arts - which appears to be ample, judging from his Acknowledgements page - and bear the mark of someone who has pondered the subject for some time. There are discussions about the warrior ethos, and what drives a person to pursue this path; the differences between styles of fighting; and even a short, intriguing passage about the history of that historical giant, Miyamoto Musashi. This content enriches the novel immensely, and sets it apart from other tales that focus on bloodshed wrought by bare fists and edged weapons.
It is also another example of Perry’s growth as a writer. The early Matador novels covered an intergalactic revolution, sparked by a secret society of martial artists that saw to the greedy core of their government. While these novels also contained ruminations about the martial arts, the focus was on the plot, which combined the excitement of espionage with the thrill of skilled combat. In contrast, The Musashi Flex dwells solely upon its characters, all of whom are bound by their interest in an underground fight circuit that draws the best fighters in the galaxy. The martial arts are at the core of this setting, and thus constitute the main subject of the novel.
The novel is not flawless. Towards the end, a few of the characters make major, life-changing decisions, and the ramifications of these changes are not entirely consistent with their earlier actions. The final battle that the story has been building up to is almost too short, and less than satisfactory as a climax. The story arc that describes the main character’s path of discovery is also uneven, and doesn’t capture the raw energies of creation yielded by true genius.
Still, these flaws do not impede the narrative, nor do they detract from the overall enjoyment of the story. Besides, a fully-fleshed description of a martial artist’s journey to enlightenment would probably outgrow the constraints of science fiction space opera, and turn into a massive, if not disturbing, epic novel. The Musashi Flex does not pose itself as such literature. Anyone who has read the earlier Matador novels will be surprised by Perry’s latest offering, while newcomers may find themselves scouring used bookstores for the rest of the canon.
In fact, I want to recommend the Matador series outright to any readers who haven’t picked them up. The tale begins with the novel The Man Who Never Missed, which to this day bears one of the more intriguing titles in science fiction. It also invites an irresistible double-entendre, for anyone who appreciates the martial arts, and likes a good science fiction tale, should not miss this little novel. At just over 200 pages, it is ideal for an afternoon of literary entertainment. The sexual content can be a little off-putting, but these scenes are short, and can be skimmed without missing critical details.
After that, the trilogy closes with Matadora, and the Machiavelli Interface. A prequel, The 97th Step, describes the events preceding The Man Who Never Missed, while a second trilogy follows the exploits of the secondary characters in the wake of the events that took place in the first trilogy. Admittedly, these last three books are not as interesting as the first four, but they do provide the combat that Perry is so good at describing.
There is but one more thing to add: ignore the cover of this novel. While competently wrought, it is far too cheesy to take seriously, and undermines the contents behind it. Perry returned to the Matador series because he had something he wanted to share: readers who partake in the transaction will enjoy the ensuing tale.
