A Little Hatred is the first book in the Age of Madness trilogy by Joe Abercrombie. It is a gripping tale of power, politics, greed, and revenge set in the fantasy world of the First Law.

The story takes place thirty years after the events of the First Law trilogy. The Union, ruled by King Jezal, is now a major superpower in the world and has begun to industrialize. The North, ruled by Stour Nightfall, is a lawless and wild place, with various factions vying for power.

The story follows several main characters, each with their own ambitions, struggles, and secrets. The first is Savine dan Glokta, a talented businesswoman and daughter of the famous torturer, Sand dan Glokta. Savine is cunning, ambitious, and ruthless, and is determined to make a name for herself in the world of finance and industry. However, she needs to keep her connection to her infamous father a secret, as it could ruin her reputation and damage her business deals.

The second character is Rikke, the daughter of Dogman, a legendary warrior from the North. Rikke has a unique gift that allows her to see into the future and predict the outcome of battles. However, her gift also brings her great pain and suffering, and she struggles to understand its true nature and purpose.

The third character is Leo dan Brock. Leo is the heir to the throne of the Union and is desperate to prove himself as a worthy successor to King Jezal. However, Leo is naive, idealistic, and easily manipulated by those around him.

The fourth character is Broad, a former soldier of the Union who has been left behind by the new era of progress and industry. He is bitter and resentful of the changes happening around him and longs for the simpler times of his youth.

As the story progresses, the lives of these characters become increasingly intertwined as they navigate the complex political landscape of the Union and the North. Savine becomes embroiled in a dangerous business deal with a powerful industrialist, while Rikke must use her gift to protect her family and the North from a looming war. Leo must deal with the treacherous politics of the court, while Broad is drawn into a violent conflict between the workers and the industrialists.

The novel is full of Abercrombie's trademark wit and dark humor, as well as his vivid and gritty portrayals of violence and warfare. The characters are complex and multi-faceted, with their own flaws, weaknesses, and strengths. Abercrombie does an excellent job of exploring the themes of power, greed, and corruption, and how they affect both individuals and societies.

Overall, A Little Hatred is a fantastic start to the Age of Madness trilogy and sets the stage for an epic and thrilling tale of war, politics, and revenge. It is a must-read for fans of fantasy, and for anyone looking for a gripping and thought-provoking story.

Sometimes you wake from a nightmare, and there’s a wonderful wash of relief as you realise the horrors you saw were just ghosts, and you’re safe in your own warm bed.

For Rikke, it happened the other way around.

She’d been dreaming of something happy, somewhere happy, burrowing into feathers with a smile on her face. Then she felt the cold, creeping into her heart however tight she huddled. Then the aching in her sore legs as she shifted on the pitiless ground. Then the hunger, nagging at her gut, and it came back in a rush where she was, and she woke with a groan.

It was with great reluctance she opened her eyes, saw the cold, grey sky through branches creaking with the wind, and something swinging—

“Shit!” she squawked, scrambling from her clammy cloak. A man had been hanged from the tree right above where she’d been sleeping. If she’d stood up tall, she could’ve touched his dangling feet. When she lay down, it’d been too dark to see her own hands, let alone a corpse hung overhead. But there was no missing him now.

“There’s a dead man,” Rikke squeaked, pointing a trembling finger.

Isern barely spared him a glance. “On balance, I’d rather be surprised by dead men than living. Here.” She pressed something into Rikke’s cold hand. A soggy heel of loaf and a handful of those horrible bitter berries that left your teeth purple. “Breakfast. Savour it, for that is all the food it has pleased the moon to give us.” She cupped her blue hand and her white and blew into them, ever so gently, like even breath was a resource to be rationed. “My da used to say you can see all the beauty in the world in the way a hanged man swings.”

Rikke bit off damp bread, chewed it in her sore mouth, eyes creeping back to that slowly turning body. “Can’t say I’m seeing it.”

“Nor me, I will admit.”

“Should we cut him down?”

“Doubt he’ll thank us.”

“Who is he?”

“Honestly, he’s not had much to say for himself. Could be one of your father’s men, hanged by Stour Nightfall’s. Could be one of Stour Nightfall’s, hanged by your father’s. Not much difference now. The dead fight for no one.”

One of her father’s men? Had Rikke known him, then? How many folk she knew were killed, these last few days? She felt the ache of tears at the back of her nose, sniffed it up hard.

“How much more of this can we take?” And she knew her voice was getting shrill and cracked but couldn’t stop herself.