I must confess my initial interest in Bee Ridgway's debut, The River of No Return, was superficial: I fell in love with the gorgeous cover. The more II must confess my initial interest in Bee Ridgway's debut, The River of No Return, was superficial: I fell in love with the gorgeous cover. The more I read about the premise - a time-travelling historical romance, with an emphasis on the romance - the more dubious I became. Then there's the fact that it has been widely compared to The Time Traveler's Wife, a book I tried three times to read without any success, and A Discovery of Witches, a book I finished but in many ways disliked. All in all, by the time I came to actually start reading this book I was a bit concerned I would end up hating it. It was a relief to find it was, in fact, very enjoyable.
The story begins in 1815, with 22-year-old Julia Percy at her grandfather's bedside as he takes his last breaths. Julia believes his secret power - the manipulation of time - has died with him, and she dreads the arrival of her unpleasant cousin Eamon, the new earl. The scene then switches to Vermont in 2013, where Nick Davenant, the wealthy owner of several farms, lives a content yet complicated life. Nick is not what he seems: he is a member of the Guild, an organisation made up of those who, like Nick, have 'jumped' through time and found themselves in an age not their own. At the moment of his near-death in 1812, he was transported to 2003, and after a strange and painful period of adjustment, he has made peace with his unconventional existence. That is, until he receives a summons from the Guild which contradicts one of its own cardinal rules. Does this mean the principal law of the Guild - that there can be no return - could be broken too? And what connects Nick's summons to Julia's predicament back in the nineteenth century?
After a slightly clumsy start which didn't give me a very positive impression of Nick's character, I soon found myself intrigued by the multi-layered plot, particularly the questions surrounding the Guild's operation. Between Nick's story, Julia's story, the background of the Guild and its shadowy enemies, and real-life historical events affecting the characters, there's a lot in this book, but it works - there is plenty of detail but it's all very fast-moving and never becomes dull: nor does it feel like the author is throwing too much information at you, impressive given that the amount that needs explaining about how all this works. As for the love story, it's pleasant enough, and (thankfully) believable. I was relieved to find that there was already an established connection between the two main characters, rather than it being one of these insta-love situations - the reader was easily able to imagine that, had none of the fantastical parts of the story actually happened, these two would probably have ended up together anyway. I did feel that Nick was being a bit too forward with Julia at times, given the strictures of the age (which he was obviously familiar with), but for the most part I liked them together, believed in their feelings for each other, and wanted them to be happy. Beyond this, I don't think I can discuss the plot in any further detail without significant spoilers. Suffice to say, I was carried along by the momentum of it and once I'd got to grips with the basic principles of the timey-wimey stuff and the dynamic between the characters, I was hooked.
The one thing I will say, without actually spoiling anything, is that it's very obvious at the end that the stage is being set for a sequel. This can be read as a standalone book, and there's no cliffhanger as such, but there is plenty that could still be explored about this world and a number of questions which aren't answered comprehensively. I won't pretend this didn't disappoint me a little - I'd have preferred to think of this as a single novel, not the start of some fantasy romance series. Would I read The River of No Return 2? Yes, I probably would, but I have a gut feeling it would be inferior to this one.
I obviously can't say with absolute accuracy, but I don't think this book is really anything like The Time Traveler's Wife, excepting the obvious link of the time-travel theme. It is much more like A Discovery of Witches - a romance between two characters with supernatural abilities, the juxtaposition of rich historical detail and the present day, a secret organisation that holds all the power, our hero and heroine used as pawns by greater forces - but it avoided all the things that marred that story (in other words, the male protagonist wasn't repulsive, the description wasn't too corny, and the romantic scenes didn't make me feel sick).
The River of No Return is, for me, best described as a good old-fashioned rollercoaster of an adventure story. The romance aspect is appealing but it doesn't overwhelm the plot to the detriment of other elements. It's a shame it doesn't look likely that this will be a standalone novel, as I'd like to read a totally different story from the same author, but - obviously - that wouldn't stop me from recommending this one. If anything about the idea of it strikes you as interesting, you'll probably love it....more
To some extent, Isabel's Skin is a straightforward pastiche of, or homage to, the traditional gothic novel. Set in the early 20th century, it has an eTo some extent, Isabel's Skin is a straightforward pastiche of, or homage to, the traditional gothic novel. Set in the early 20th century, it has an educated but naive narrator - David Morris, a book valuer - journeying to a ramshackle country house. There, he discovers the nearest neighbour is a mad scientist from whose cottage mysterious, terrifying screams can be heard. So far, so sterotypically gothic, but Isabel's Skin veers in some strange directions with its elements of fantasy and - for me the most noticeable thing about the book - the fact that it's so incredibly straight-faced and serious. Probably the only traces of humour I could pick up were in some of the character names, which wouldn't have been out of place in a parody (Buff-Orpington!) and (although it's a rather bleak example) David's astonishing naivety and/or self-delusion about the nature of his mother's death.
The style, the use of language, is often extremely odd. For example, when David is talking about a former sweetheart, he describes her hair as being like 'a plate of unusual food'. I can't decide whether that's a brilliantly original turn of phrase or whether it just doesn't work at all?! There were lots of other examples, and similarly, the book was peppered with extended metaphors which I often found awkward rather than effective. Another hurdle was the relationship between David and Isabel: the apparent development of feelings on both sides happened far too quickly to be plausible, and they were both so uncharismatic that I couldn't bring myself to feel anything much for them. On top of all that, the ending felt a bit wet: I thought it was wonderful how Benson had linked the prologue and the epilogue so closely, bringing a different meaning to all the assumptions the reader is bound to have made at the beginning of the book, but the conclusion itself was something of a cop-out.
All in all, when I reached the end of this book I still wasn't quite sure exactly what I was supposed to make of it. Other reviews have pointed out that it's riddled with clichés, and I would have to agree, but I'm not certain whether the story was intended to send those clichés up or pay tribute to them. Nor did I manage to come to any conclusions about how the reader was supposed to react to the characters. I almost always enjoy gothic fiction, and Isabel's Skin did hold my interest to a degree, but it was far from satisfying....more
Cute, fun, funny, and very short ebook to tie in with the Doctor Who episode The Angels Take Manhattan. Very in keeping with the character of River SoCute, fun, funny, and very short ebook to tie in with the Doctor Who episode The Angels Take Manhattan. Very in keeping with the character of River Song - I loved the witty way it was written and the narrative did a very good job of combining the atmosphere of a noirish, pulpy mystery with near-constant wisecracks and puns. There probably won't be any more of these but if they were written, I would certainly read them!...more
I have had this book on my to-read list for years. In fact, I've already tried to read it once before and just couldn't get into it, but for two reasoI have had this book on my to-read list for years. In fact, I've already tried to read it once before and just couldn't get into it, but for two reasons I was recently inspired to give it another go. The first reason was that there's a movie adaptation due out soon, and I thought I'd better get the book read before I start hearing all about the film and people are posting screencaps of it on Tumblr and any twists are ruined for everyone. The second was that I've read a number of reviews of Sam Thompson's Communion Town, one of my favourite recent reads, suggesting that the two books are alike. It's easy to see why: like Communion Town, Cloud Atlas is essentially a series of stories written from very different viewpoints, at least some of which have an element of fantasy to them, and all are linked. There are six stories, most of which are split into two parts. The first parts have an infuriating (but attention-grabbing) habit of cutting off just as you are absolutely desperate to know what happens next. The second parts, which unfold in reverse order to the first half of the book, conclude each of the stories in turn, although the narratives ultimately remain separate and don't come together in any definitive way.
What follows may be considered spoilers - I have outlined what happens in the first half of each story, although not how they end, and have also referred to the links between the stories.
The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing The mid-nineteenth century. Adam Ewing is a naive notary travelling across the Pacific on the Prophetess, along with a shifty doctor called Henry Goose and a bunch of untrustworthy sailors and stowaways: he believes he is suffering from an illness caused by a parasitic 'Worm' and that only Dr. Goose can cure him. It took me some time to get into this narrative and, in fact, I think it was the fact that the book started like this that put me off the first time I tried to read it. The constant racism was also pretty offputting, although it's necessary and has a 'point' which links in with a lot of the themes that run through the other stories.
Letters from Zedelghem Early 1930s. The young, charismatic Robert Frobisher escapes his debtors and family (who have disinherited him) in England and flees to Belgium, where he successfully ingratiates himself into the household of Vyvyan Ayrs, a reclusive composer. His experiences are related in the form of witty letters to his best friend/lover Rufus Sixsmith. This section was when I really started feeling that I was going to love this book - the playful language, the combination of pathos and humour. The ending of Robert's story is also by far the best and most powerful of the lot. (view spoiler)[At first I disliked the second half, primarily because I disliked Eva, but the last letter - wow. It made me cry. 'We both know in our hearts who is the sole love of my short, bright life' - TEARS. (hide spoiler)] Link with the last story: Robert finds a copy of Adam Ewing's journal in Ayrs' mansion.
Half-Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery 1975. Luisa Rey is a small-time journalist who uncovers what may be a massive conspiracy involving a cover-up at a nuclear power plant. This (the Lana Del Rey mystery as I kept thinking of it) was instantly my favourite, a fact I am almost embarrassed to admit as it is by far the most conventional and ordinary of the narratives, and is apparently supposed to be bad. Ha! Well, I absolutely adored it regardless. I liked Luisa more than anyone else in the book, the atmosphere and pacing were fantastic, I really felt like I was THERE. Exciting and emotive with plenty of dramatic twists - I loved every minute of it. Link with the last story: Rufus Sixsmith is now a scientist whose study is responsible for uncovering the scandal.
The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish Roughly the present day? Timothy Cavendish is a publisher of 'vanity' books who becomes famous when one of his authors murders a critic, then finds himself on the run from the author's thuggish brothers. He thinks he's found safety at a 'hotel' in Hull, but it turns out his own brother has installed him in a prison-like nursing home. Written in what I felt was an entertaining but somewhat derivative style, this story both rips off and sends up a certain style often found in contemporary literary fiction. I found the aforementioned style a little too self-conscious and I didn't feel as invested in Timothy's plight as I had with the other characters. Link with the last story: Timothy is sent a manuscript of 'Half-Lives'.
An Orison of Sonmi~451 A dystopian future 'corpocracy', about a hundred years from now. Sonmi~451 is a cloned 'server' working in what appears to be a truly nightmarish version of McDonald's. As a result of an experiment gone awry, she attains learning and knowledge, and begins to behave like a 'pureblood', unheard of for a 'fabricant' such as herself. This chapter is told in the form of an interview with Sonmi~451 following her arrest and incarceration for crimes which are not fully revealed until the end of the story. I thought the tale itself was fascinating, but it bothered me that once I started thinking about the way the corpocracy worked and how it had come to be, it didn't seem at all believable or plausible. Link with the last story: Sonmi~451 watches a film version of Timothy Cavendish's story.
Sloosha's Crossin' an' Ev'rythin' After The far future, after the 'Fall' of civilisation. The narrator is Zachry, a member of one of the few tribes now left, living in a post-apocalyptic version of Hawaii. His story follows what happens when Meronym, a member of a more advanced tribe known as the 'Prescients', comes to stay with Zachry's family. The whole account is written in an annoying and difficult-to-read dialect, which I really struggled with at times - meaning I sometimes skipped over bits I wasn't that interested in - and didn't feel was necessary at all. I did get into the rhythm of this after a while, and I didn't hate it, but it was by far my least favourite of the narratives and the only one I was glad to finish. Link with the last story: The people of this society appear to worship Sonmi as a goddess.
In order of how much I enjoyed them: Luisa Rey, Letters from Zedelghem, Sonmi, Timothy Cavendish, Adam Ewing, Sloosha's Crossin'.
Cloud Atlas seems to inspire extreme reactions - it's often viewed as either a modern classic or a case of the emperor's new clothes. Personally, I don't agree with either of those interpretations. I certainly didn't take any deep and meaningful philosophical point away from it, and I didn't look too hard for connections between the stories, other than the obvious and deliberate ones: I felt they could all stand on their own well enough. I thought the implied theme of (view spoiler)[reincarnation (hide spoiler)] was flimsy, so I chose to ignore it - nor did I spend too much time thinking about whether all of these people were supposed to be 'real'. I don't think any of the stories are meant to be examined at in too much detail (the circumstances of Sonmi's society being a case in point) and I certainly didn't think the book was a work of genius. But I also happened to think it was exceptionally well-written and well-woven, and I thoroughly enjoyed it for what (I think) it is - a collection of good stories which are either smarter than they seem to be or not as smart as they think, depending on which way you look at it. Some may object to the fact that it's a patchwork of pastiches, but personally, that was a big part of what I loved about it. ...more
I'm not really sure how to go about reviewing this. First of all, if you're unfamiliar with Dahlquist, I should point out that The Chemickal MarriageI'm not really sure how to go about reviewing this. First of all, if you're unfamiliar with Dahlquist, I should point out that The Chemickal Marriage is the third, and last, book in a series that began with The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters and continued with The Dark Volume. If you're at all interested in this book, I can't emphasise enough how important it is that you should start with the first of the three - both because it's absolutely fantastic, and because the others will make no sense if you don't. I very much doubt The Chemickal Marriage could be read as a standalone novel: although there's a recap of previous events at the beginning, and numerous concepts/details are briefly summarised within the narrative, I don't think I would have understood much of it without an existing knowledge of what 'glass books', 'the Process' etc actually were and what kinds of things the characters had been through prior to this book.
At the beginning of this story Miss Temple, having barely survived the events of the previous book, is recuperating in a hotel, believing her former comrades Cardinal Chang and Doctor Svenson to be dead. It soon becomes apparent that Chang and Svenson are alive after all (not a spoiler, it's mentioned in the blurb!) and the three join forces once again to defeat what's left of the nefarious Cabal. There is more chaos than ever in this volume, with constant unrest on the streets and the introduction of new weapons which turn mobs of citizens into something akin to rage-filled zombies. The lines are blurred everywhere you look - every new character is a potential enemy, while some old enemies become tenuous allies, bad characters turn good and good characters turn bad. Like the previous books, it's a heady mix of action, sex, science and deceitful behaviour. It's also intense and highly descriptive, although I think I actually find this installment easier to read than the others - I certainly finished it more quickly than I'd imagined I would.
I didn't write proper reviews of either Glass Books or The Dark Volume, and it's been more than three years since I read the latter, so I was unsure whether I'd remember enough to follow the plot properly. Happily, I did - just about. As with The Dark Volume, I found the fight scenes confusing and whenever there was a lot of action I just had to keep reading in the hope that I would figure it out. At some points, particularly in the penultimate chapter, the sheer amount of characters overwhelmed me and I have to admit that I wasn't sure exactly who a few of them were, and whether they were supposed to be on the 'good' or 'bad' side (if such a thing even existed by that point).
I loved the epilogue: it was a fitting conclusion to the trio's adventures and left the story open enough that there could be some kind of follow-up. Although the two sequels haven't quite matched up to the brilliance of Glass Books, I've really enjoyed the progression of this trilogy and am looking forward to what Dahlquist will write next, whether it's a continuation of this story or something new. I would recommend the series to anyone who likes, or likes the sound of, literary fantasy... but start with the first one!...more
Snake Ropes is Jess Richards' debut, and it's one of the most original, exciting first novels I've read in quite some time. Set entirely on an extremeSnake Ropes is Jess Richards' debut, and it's one of the most original, exciting first novels I've read in quite some time. Set entirely on an extremely remote island somewhere off the coast of Scotland (the exact location is hinted at but remains obscure, much like the time period in which the story takes place), it depicts a tiny community sustained by traditional trade with the 'tall men' who visit from the mainland. While one interpretation might see this as simply an old-fashioned and superstitious society, there are hints of real magic. Mysterious (and apparently dangerous) ropes are bundled up and left on the beach without explanation, ghosts are seen and the voices of the dead heard, an owl with a woman's face acts as a harbinger of doom, and above all there is the dominance of the Thrashing House, an ancient building where liars and criminals are sent to have the truth 'thrashed out' of them. The narrative switches between two teenage girls living in circumstances as different as one could find in a place like this. Mary, born and brought up on the island, lives in a cottage with her father and creates 'broideries' for a living: she is preoccupied with protecting her three-year-old brother, Barney. Morgan, part of the only family not native to the island, is kept under lock and key by her troubled mother in a house encircled by a giant pink fence: obsessed with fairytales, she dreams only of escape.
The island is a fascinating place, and not just because it seems to possess magical qualities. It appears to be an almost entirely female-dominated society, with women portrayed as the decision-makers, the political leaders, and the only ones able to enforce the island's 'law' by sending wrong-doers to the Thrashing House. Women are taught to read and write (and almost all of the island's own legends involve women only), but men are not, and indeed they are often implied to be virtually useless. (When Mary's father is sent to the Thrashing House, this is reinforced by his physical transformation - becoming a literal embodiment of uselessness.) At the beginning of the story, boys are vanishing from the island, but despite some instances of personal anguish, this issue is largely brushed under the carpet and treated as if it doesn't really matter - Mary is repeatedly told she should just forget about Barney.
Each girl speaks with a unique and distinctive voice. Mary's incorporates elements of dialect (although it is still easy to read) and is rich with the history and culture of the island. Morgan's is ostensibly more intelligent, but the way she interprets her surroundings highlights her lack of experience with real life. Both display sparks of humour, cleverly placed to diffuse the rather bleak atmosphere created by the island's isolation and the lack of opportunities for its inhabitants, and the girls' ignorance of the world at large makes for moments of both pathos and amusement. Discussing 'main land fashions', Mary observes that 'a few years back... the tall men wanted jumpers full of holes called the grunge, but now them want cable or ribbed'. Meanwhile, Morgan ruminates that (in fairytales) 'the arrival of the prince is at best suspicious, and at worst sinister'. Although she isn't without an ability to question the logic of happy endings, Morgan's whole world is seen through the prism of the tales she has spent her life reading, and she can only make sense of her experiences outside the family home by turning them into myth-like stories. Upon meeting Mary, she asks seriously of Barney's disappearance: 'Have you looked carefully at animals? He could have been transformed - into a mouse, or a rat, or a bat, even a small cow?'
The significance of myth is illuminated most powerfully in how each girl chooses to deal with her suffering. Morgan portrays herself, in both thoughts and words, as the central character of a fairytale, someone who must escape, who will be rescued. Mary hears Barney's voice whispering to her through a shell, and later sees her 'shadow self' appear as she struggles to deal with the aftermath of an attack. Ultimately, language proves crucial in the resolution of every thread of the plot. The women punish those held in the Thrashing House by 'stripping away' their name, chanting it until they have 'no words to hide behind'. Mary dispels her pain by writing of her experiences and refusing to let herself name what has happened to her, and therefore refusing to let herself be defined by damage. Morgan unravels the mystery of Mary's past, long banished from memory, by unlocking the secrets hidden inside a diary.
The real genius of Snake Ropes is that the author plunges you into a quite fantastical world yet always maintains a sense of realism strong enough to keep you anchored to the story. Full of fascinating layers of meaning, and blessed with two thoroughly sympathetic protagonists, this is an excellent debut. There is little wrong with it, and my only real complaint would be that the pacing sometimes doesn't seem quite right - although I found the story engrossing, I wouldn't say I was compelled enough to keep going back to it at every opportunity, or that I couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe I felt this way because the narrative is sometimes a little too fragmented: alternate chapters are narrated by Mary and Morgan, the chapters are fairly short, and the two don't come into contact with one another for quite some time. Despite this minor flaw, this is a book that deserves to be hugely successful and widely read - and I really hope it is. It's accomplished, evocative and totally unique, and Jess Richards has been firmly added to my growing list of authors to watch closely in future....more
Q: A Love Story is a misleading title if ever there was one. It is a love story only in the sense that it's a book with a love story in it - most of tQ: A Love Story is a misleading title if ever there was one. It is a love story only in the sense that it's a book with a love story in it - most of the plot doesn't relate to this, regardless of what you might (understandably) assume. More unusually and significantly, it's also a time travel story. But more than either of these, it's a comedy. Oh, and the character of Q barely features, only making a couple of appearances, which seems odd given the author's choice to name the book after her.
The premise, however, is great, and certainly caught my attention when I impulsively picked up the hardback from a bookshop display. The unnamed narrator (possibly representing the author himself?), a rather unsuccessful writer, is blissfully happy with the love of his life, Quentina, known to all as Q. He's happy, that is, until the day he is visited by a man who claims to be an older version of himself, from a point in the not-too-distant future when time travel has been invented. This man tells the narrator he must leave Q, or else something terrible will come to pass that will ruin both their lives. The narrator chooses to heed the warning, and thereafter, his life becomes dominated by attempts to avoid various awful fates.
I loved the idea of a person being visited by their future self, and I also loved that the story was set in contemporary New York - there seemed to be so much that could potentially be done with this scenario. Unfortunately, the book wastes it. The tenderness of the love story and all the potential intrigues of the time travel detail are jettisoned in favour of what seemed to me like a rather heavy-handed satire. None of the minor characters are developed further than a one-note caricature. There's an irritating repeated emphasis on the 'quirkiness' of the narrator and Q - they're very eco-conscious, they like painfully cool indie music and cult films, Q grows organic vegetables in an Eden-like garden in the heart of NYC etc etc - which, honestly, made them seem more like awful stereotypes of smug, middle-class, white hipsters (I hate that word, but it's SO apt for these people!) than anything else. And Q is, of course, one of those radiantly beautiful, incredibly kind, apparently flawless female characters with no negative traits whatsoever that authors so love to invent. After a while of this I did begin to wonder whether Mandery actually wanted the reader to find the protagonists insufferable - confusing since you're meant to care about the romance between them.
Ultimately, Q is much more of a farce than a love story. Mandery dwells on the ridiculousness of the narrator blindly following whatever his future selves, who crop up with increasing regularity as the book progresses, tell him to do. Entertaining, I suppose, but not half as good as what could have been done with an idea like this. The writing reminded me of Jonathan Franzen's style, and indeed this story may appeal to fans of Franzen, but its humour lacks any kind of real edge. I have to give it some credit for a genuinely interesting, original premise and a half-decent ending. Unfortunately, in every other way it was rather disappointing....more
Started off so good, turned into an absolute mess by the end. I can't really even be bothered to summarise the plot - suffice to say it began with lotStarted off so good, turned into an absolute mess by the end. I can't really even be bothered to summarise the plot - suffice to say it began with lots of promise and degenerated into a series of ridiculous, drawn-out, way-too-long fight scenes. I had no idea this was originally written as an online serial when I first began reading it, but it definitely shows....more
Throughout most of this book, I had completely mixed feelings about it, but by the end, they were mostly negative. On one hand, it's the kind of thingThroughout most of this book, I had completely mixed feelings about it, but by the end, they were mostly negative. On one hand, it's the kind of thing I have been hoping to find for months. A long, juicy, involving saga with a complete, detailed mythology to back it up, filled with interesting nuggets of history, obviously researched in consummate detail - an intelligently written fantasy. On the other hand, there were numerous things about it that frustrated me so much it drove me mad, to the point that I sometimes couldn't wait for it to be over: chief amongst these was the relationship/romance between the two protagonists. Unfortunately, as this particular aspect became more and more prominent as the story went on, it was impossible to ignore and ended up ruining everything else for me.
I could really have liked Diana, the main character and (for the whole book aside from a handful of chapters) the narrator: she is incredibly intelligent, physically strong and independent. In fact, at the beginning, I did like her a lot. Then she met Matthew, the vampire/love interest/hero (?), and it all went horribly wrong. I started writing what was practically an essay about how much I hated Matthew and his behaviour towards Diana, but you know what, I don't think it needs to be done. I haven't read many other reviews of this book but I have faith that others will have picked up on the horrible, suffocating, proprietary overtones of Matthew's character and articulated the problems with it better than me. Suffice to say, I think we can all agree that if the behaviour of a 'romantic hero' reminds you of an abusive relationship you were in, that's... not a good thing.
A few points I just can't not mention: - Matthew's power and authority was reinforced so often (most noticeably in descriptions of their physical interaction, as well as his ways of addressing her) that no matter how frequently the narrative mentioned Diana's strength, fitness and agility, I couldn't help but picture her as small, weak and fragile - The 'scooping'... 'He scooped me into his arms, my feet swinging in midair', 'Matthew scooped me behind him' (does this even make sense?), 'He scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing'... and on and on it goes, is she made of ice cream?? - The bit where she just accepts that (view spoiler)[he HAD to kill Gillian (hide spoiler)] (why? Was this ever properly explained or justified, because I didn't think it was at all?) - The (non-)sex scenes made me want to throw up - not an exaggeration, I truly felt nauseous - I deserve some kind of award for the self-restraint I exercised in not smashing my Kindle to pieces any one of the 6000 times Matthew called Diana 'mon coeur' or 'ma lionne'
I tried to believe in their love, I tried not to see Matthew's every action from an indignant feminist standpoint, but I just couldn't. I hated him - none of his supposed charisma translated from the page into something I could actually picture. And I say that as someone who has developed a crush on so many fictional psychopaths, supervillians and generally morally dubious characters that it's embarrassing.
I honestly thought the last six or seven chapters were absolutely awful. What was even going on? Why introduce an an enormously intriguing villain (view spoiler)[and then kill her off within a few pages? She was one of the most interesting characters in the book (hide spoiler)]! Who were those people who suddenly appeared at the end? I don't know because I seriously didn't care by that point and I knew there were too few pages left for the story to truly improve, or for Diana to come to her senses and bash Matthew's head in. Plot-wise I think the book had some problems anyway, especially in terms of structure and pacing: as some other reviews have pointed out, not much actually happened overall, and I will never understand why the hell it took Diana so long to try and recall that manuscript from the library - or why, if all these creatures are so powerful, they didn't just break in and steal it, or use spells/magic to claim it? If it was really such a big deal, would they not have done something more decisive and ruthless than following Diana around the library on a daily basis...?!
Good things worth mentioning: the historical detail, the characterisation (apart from Matthew), the fantastic range of settings. The detailed descriptive language was both good and bad: it created a real sense of place and atmosphere - I could practically taste the food and wine - but sometimes made the story feel like it was moving at a snail's pace. I really enjoyed reading about Diana on her own, and some of the other characters were genuinely great - I particularly liked Matthew's best friend Hamish, a daemon, and his vampire mother Ysabeau. I would have liked to read more about these characters, heard their backstories, and if Harkness does eventually write novels set in this world that aren't focused on Matthew and Diana, I will still be interested in reading them.
This book had so much going for it, and could have been so much better. But when I finally finished it, my overriding feeling was 'thank god THAT'S over'. I would only read the sequel if Matthew wasn't in it, and I'm guessing there is 0% chance of that....more
I rarely read YA fiction - not out of snobbery, not because I think there's anything wrong with adults reading YA, but simply because it's always provI rarely read YA fiction - not out of snobbery, not because I think there's anything wrong with adults reading YA, but simply because it's always proved very difficult for me to find any books in the genre that hold my interest past a few pages. I've tried reading several this year, but had to abandon them all because I found them either dull, silly or unengaging. I wasn't sure whether to bother with this, even though there's been a certain buzz about it and the premise looked very interesting. But the first few pages grabbed my attention, and I decided I would give it a chance.
Jacob Portman is an American teenager, isolated and bored, drifting through life with few ambitions and even fewer friends. Since childhood he has been very close to his grandfather, who told endless exciting and far-fetched tales about his own youth which Jacob has never forgotten. The stories - about Abraham Portman's escape from horrifying 'monsters' to a children's home full of refugees with amazing powers - have been explained away in intervening years as an allegory for the refugees' survival of WWII. The photographs that accompanied them, supposedly showing the extraordinary abilities of these 'peculiar' children (such as the levitating girl pictured on the cover), Jacob now regards as poorly doctored fakes. However, when his beloved grandfather dies in strange circumstances - leaving behind a letter from his old headmistress, Miss Peregrine, and a series of intriguing clues - Jacob begins to suspect there could have been something more to those odd stories after all. He persuades his father to take a birdwatching trip to the Welsh island where the children's home is situated, and sets out to discover the truth.
I was well and truly sucked in by the beginning of the book, and initially I thought it would be a great light read that would fit perfectly into my busy schedule at the moment: easy to read, fast-moving and nicely spooky. The set-up is well-crafted - lonely Jacob is a sympathetic character, the mystery of his grandfather's past is tantalising, and the island itself, while contrived, is a suitably atmospheric setting for the rest of the action. The trouble begins about a third of the way in: after Jacob has solved the mystery of the children's home (which doesn't appear to surprise him anywhere near as much as it should), the book slumps into a very formulaic series of events in which everything seems to happen way too easily. The tension collapses and the way Jacob (view spoiler)[steps so easily between the past and present (hide spoiler)] feels like a missed opportunity - there could have been so much more excitement and danger here. The conceit of the peculiar children's abilities and the war with their nemeses is unoriginal, being a very close copy of X-Men: First Class with the inevitable dash of Harry Potter (and... (view spoiler)[WHY did the author set the past section of this book circa WWII and then give the monsters a name that sounds like Holocaust? I really hope this wasn't deliberate, because it's incredibly tacky if so; I had a proper 'oh no he DIDN'T' moment when I first saw it written down. Same thing with the Jeffrey Dahmer reference, ugh... (hide spoiler)])
The author's rendering of different types of speech occasionally tips over into parody - both in the over-egged modern British slang of the Welsh islanders, and the comically 'old-fashioned' language used by Miss Peregrine and the children. Jacob's voice is uneven - at times he sounds exactly like an insecure and occasionally crude teenage boy, but at other points there are bursts of almost literary description that just don't seem to fit in with his narrative. I got the feeling Riggs wanted to instill this book with crossover appeal so adult readers would be attracted to it too, with mixed results. There are mistakes (including spelling errors), plot holes and dei ex machina (??) all over the place. The main issue for me was the question of whether (view spoiler)[the children would REALLY have remained so happy and childlike after more than 70 years trapped in a repeating version of the same day. With the likely answer being that they'd actually be bitter, frustrated, extremely depressed and probably quite deranged, and there would surely have been more than one suicide (hide spoiler)].
Unsurprisingly, my conclusion about this book is that I'd have enjoyed it much more 15 years ago. It really is like something I would have picked off the library shelf (I have fond memories of my local library's then-tiny YA section) when I was younger, which is perhaps why I was so drawn to it in the first place. The build-up of tension and fantastical plot failed to excite or spook me in the way I wanted, whereas a younger reader would probably find the creepy photos and time-loop scenario thrilling. I also thought this was a self-contained story and didn't realise it would be so obviously set up for a sequel at the end, without anything much in the way of resolution; that was a little irritating. Not a complete waste of time, but I wouldn't recommend this to adult readers at all....more
Eowyn Ivey's debut The Snow Child is one of those zeitgeist books that seems to have a significant buzz about it right now. Whether this is because ofEowyn Ivey's debut The Snow Child is one of those zeitgeist books that seems to have a significant buzz about it right now. Whether this is because of great PR, reader word-of-mouth or simply that it's really that good, people seem to be talking about this book, and the burgeoning hype, along with the promise of an intriguing, magical story, grabbed my interest. When I spotted a special offer (fyi - use the code SNOWCHIL at Amazon UK to get the hardback for £5.99!), I was sold.
Beginning in 1920, this is the story of Mabel and Jack, who make the decision to move out to a homestead in Alaska relatively late in life, in their early fifties. After marrying late and suffering a stillbirth, they have never been able to have children, a source of great sorrow to Mabel in particular. The move to Alaska is meant to represent a new start, a peaceful, simple and traditional life together without interference from relatives or acquaintances. But there are problems: Jack is getting too old to work the land on his own, and is struggling to keep going; Mabel's repressed grief is magnified by her isolation; the Alaskan wilderness is lonely and unforgiving. One night, however, a fresh snowfall briefly reawakens their passion for life and each other, and they excitedly build a snow girl, even giving her a hat and mittens. The next morning, the snow girl is gone, seemingly destroyed by a wild animal - but there are tiny footprints in the snow, and Jack thinks he glimpses a child running through the forest.
The story is based on a traditional Russian tale, 'Snegurochka' (the snow maiden), and Ivey's commitment to retaining the fairytale feel really shows. This is a fully fleshed-out and detailed story, spanning a number of years and featuring a complete cast of characters - Mabel and Jack's neighbours and later friends, the Benson family, have a significant role to play in what happens - yet it never loses that sense of the otherworldly. The essence of Alaska's harsh beauty is communicated wonderfully, so that you understand how the characters can both love and hate their environment, but at the same time there's always a hint of something ethereal. Is Faina, the child who becomes so precious to the couple, actually a magical being, or is there some rational explanation for her sudden appearance and apparently nomadic life in the forest? Outside the story, the idea of a snow child coming to life sounds silly, but the narrative manages to balance (often brutal) reality with suggestions of fantasy, making the plot believable even as it keeps you guessing about Faina's true origins.
The biggest problem with The Snow Child was that despite enjoying the book, I didn't get emotionally involved or feel particularly moved: tears never even pricked my eyes, even though this is technically a very emotive story. Lots of other reviewers have fallen in love with this book, but as much as I think it is largely worth the hype, this just didn't happen for me. Also, I wasn't keen on the way every part of the story suggested a person's life is incomplete unless they have children. Yes, I know this is the whole idea the plot rests on, and it wouldn't really work properly without it, and it's set in more traditional times, in a part of the world where having a family was one of the only things you could hope to successfully achieve and was arguably necessary for survival... But nevertheless, I couldn't help being a bit turned off by this implication. Finally, this book contains a lot more descriptions of hunting, killing, gutting (etc) animals than you would ever guess from the whimsical title and plot. These didn't put me off reading, but I could have done without them, to be honest.
That aside, this is an enchanting story and definitely a very impressive debut. I often find first novels 'stumble' in places, but, apart from a jarring 'off of' within the first few pages, the narrative flows beautifully and the style feels very assured. The blurb describes it as an 'instant classic' and while I wouldn't quite go that far, it does have a timeless quality that I'm sure will give it enduring appeal. It will be interesting to see what Ivey does next: as an Alaskan native, it's no real surprise she has captured the setting so evocatively, but her tender depiction of the protagonists' relationship suggests this is more than a one-hit wonder. A lovely diversion from reality, and an author to keep an eye on in the future. ...more
I'm an idiot. I spent the whole of October working through a pile of supposedly 'light' books which often turned out to be anything but. Meanwhile, I'I'm an idiot. I spent the whole of October working through a pile of supposedly 'light' books which often turned out to be anything but. Meanwhile, I'd been avoiding this, an almost-400-page novel about videogames (a subject I know next to nothing about and have never been much into) because, despite having heard very good things, I wasn't convinced it'd be to my taste. It turned out to be exactly what I'd been after for the past month - light and fluffy, incredibly readable, and fantastic fun.
The story is set in 2044. The real world is a mess: poverty, unemployment and drug addiction are widespread. The majority of people spend most of their time in the OASIS, a hybrid of a virtual reality simulation and an online multiplayer game, invented some years before by a pair of game programmers, James Halliday and Ogden Morrow. Halliday is now dead, but prior to his death he recorded a video message bequeathing his multi-billion-dollar fortune to anyone who can solve a number of clues and riddles he has programmed into the OASIS. 18-year-old Wade Watts, the protagonist and narrator, is one of the many thousands of OASIS users determined to attain this prize - they're known as 'gunters', short for 'Easter egg hunters', the prize being considered the ultimate videogame Easter egg. The twist is that Halliday had a lifelong obsession with the 1980s pop culture of his own youth, and so the clues, along with many of the numerous worlds within the OASIS, are focused entirely on said culture. This makes for a slew of references to 80s films and TV, music and, of course, games.
Familiarity with the cultural references would, I'm sure, enhance anyone's enjoyment of this book; I vaguely understood, rather than really 'got', most of them, but this wasn't particularly a problem. Regardless of whether you share the characters' (and, presumably, the author's) all-consuming obsession with the 80s, this is a wonderfully enjoyable adventure. In my eyes, it's primarily driven by its plot and characters, and is more of a traditional 'quest' kind of story than a meaningful vision of the future. I'm not sure I can see something like the OASIS becoming an integral part of life within the next few decades, although the idea of individuals' online lives increasingly taking precedence over their 'real' existence is more recognisable. In fact, all the meaningful relationships in Wade's life take place in the virtual world - he has never met his best friend, Aech, or the girl he has a crush on, Art3mis, and they only know him as his avatar, Parzival. Thankfully, despite all this online-only interaction, the book's portrayal of friendship and love is powerful and touching.
My only real problem with the story was the idea of Wade/Parzival, Art3mis et al being SO well-versed in every single piece of pop cultue from Halliday's entire life. No matter how much time they spent in the OASIS, these teenagers had to get an education, eat and sleep, and I just didn't see how it was physically possible for them to have amassed such knowledge (and to have remembered it all!) at such a young age. Wade mentions having watched certain 80s films over a hundred times, memorising the dialogue and actions of the characters. Alongside reading all of Halliday's favourite books and comics and playing endless videogames until he knew them by heart, how could he ever have had the time to accomplish this within the few years he'd been a gunter?!
Nevertheless, this is a minor concern, and after all this is a fun fantasy novel; it won't work if you take it too seriously. The language can be a bit annoying, but slang and abbreviations work much better here - many of the conversations are conducted via chatrooms - than they would in most fiction, since the context almost demands them. Ready Player One is everything an adventure novel should be: fantastical, exciting, involving and moving, complete with a great, heartwarming ending. It also conveys a rather unexpected, but very pleasing, message of equality. It's bound to be a big success, and I wouldn't be surprised if there's a sequel; if there is, I will happily read it. This was precisely what I needed after a long run of average and/or harrowing books - it was the most fun I've had reading in ages....more
Fantastical, exciting and enchanting, Erin Morgenstern's much-talked-about debut The Night Circus isn't great literature - but it IS, without a doubt,Fantastical, exciting and enchanting, Erin Morgenstern's much-talked-about debut The Night Circus isn't great literature - but it IS, without a doubt, very good fun. The plot is difficult to summarise briefly, as it involves numerous different strands, but in the main it revolves around the rivalry between two great 19th-century magicians - Prospero the Enchanter and 'the man in the grey suit', also known as 'Mr A. H–', whose name eludes both pronunciation and memory. Both men vow to train apprentices who will be schooled in magic and ultimately pitted against each other in a long-running challenge which will dominate their lives. Prospero chooses his daughter, Celia; the nameless man chooses a nameless, orphaned boy, who eventually decides to call himself Marco. When the two are teenagers, their battleground, a mysterious and magical travelling circus which only opens at night, is chosen. But of course, there has to be a hitch, and in this case it's that Celia and Marco begin to fall in love with one another as soon as they meet.
There are similarities between this book and Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, one of my all-time favourites, and while The Night Circus is nowhere near as cerebral, it has a similar genuinely magical quality. The use of magic is integral to almost everything that happens, yet it's presented in a completely believable manner. The story is told mainly in short, snappy chapters which constantly switch between times and places. In addition to the main plotline, there's the story of the formation of the circus itself; the tale of Bailey, who, after being dared to enter the circus as a child, develops an enduring obsession with it and with a girl who is part of the troupe of performers; and the story of Herr Thiessen, who creates a magical clock for the circus, and goes on to become the leader of the 'Rêveurs', a kind of night circus fanclub. Meanwhile, the large and varied group of performers and artists involved in creating the circus become drawn in to the feud between Prospero and the nameless man - even after Prospero's apparent death. There's more besides, and almost too many main characters to mention; this is a rich, varied narrative which touches on a number of lives, rather than confining itself solely to a tale of magic or a love story.
With all the hype around this book, it's almost impossible to read it without imagining that it was written, or at least published, with an eventual film adaptation in mind. With endless wondrous sights around the circus and all the incredible magical feats performed by the characters, it would certainly make for a real visual spectacle, and the romance at the book's heart is bound to be a big draw for many. When I first started hearing about this book, there were some comparisons to Twilight, which I'm relieved to say are inaccurate - I'm not actually sure where anyone got the idea that the two are similar. Harry Potter fans, meanwhile, will probably appreciate the 'Power Trio' dynamic between the older Bailey, Poppet and Widget, as well as the more obvious elements of magic. I was pleased to find that the romance doesn't dominate the story anywhere near as much as I expected; a few of the scenes between Celia and Marco are a little corny, but nothing inexcusable.
Overall, it's well-written; although personally I would have preferred a little more detail and longer chapters without so much jumping around, there's something quite beautiful, and certainly very inventive, about the way Morgenstern describes breathtaking demonstrations of magic with minimal prose. (On the other hand, the style handily side-steps any need to explain how this magic works or even where it came from.) Oddly, the word 'likely' is used in place of 'probably' with irritating frequency, but nothing else about the writing struck me as anything less than accomplished. The author's skill lies mainly in world-building, and you often get the feeling she lacks confidence in her characters, creating beautiful settings for them to interact in rather than fleshing them out. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing; as imaginary worlds go, the altered reality of The Night Circus is a charming, seductive one.
This is an indulgent, escapist book - it's not wildly adventurous, dramatic, or particularly meaningful, and some may find it dull due to the lack of action. It's a story you could curl up with and lose yourself in, and though I never quite got to the point where I couldn't tear myself away from it, I did feel rather sad when it was all over. I think the characters are too lightly drawn to inspire real devotion from the reader, but the world surrounding them is skilfully created an astonishingly effective. It's the sights and sounds of the circus's myriad tents that have stuck in my head even as the characters have begun to fade. Perhaps the hype surrounding this book has been a little over-zealous; it's not perfect, and I can't imagine enough readers falling in love with the characters for it to become a real phenomenon. But it's a solid debut, and the carefully detailed world it conjures up has ensured my interest in Morgenstern's future work....more
In a nutshell: overrated; questionable characterisation; breathtakingly ridiculous ending.
The Lovely Bones is a story about a murdered teenage girl, tIn a nutshell: overrated; questionable characterisation; breathtakingly ridiculous ending.
The Lovely Bones is a story about a murdered teenage girl, told from the point of view of said girl - Susie Salmon - as she watches over her loved ones from heaven. So, obviously, it's constantly trying to pull at the heartstrings from page one. In this, it occasionally succeeds - while much of it is a little too schmaltzy, there are some genuinely touching moments too. Given the book's ubiquity and popularity, I thought it might be really trashy, but it in fact the writing isn't that bad, despite the over-enthusiastic use of metaphors and similes. The narrative paints a believable picture of a family falling apart after the loss of a child, and the glimpses of Susie's heaven are intriguing, if disappointingly brief (I wish this element had been explored further).
However, I had issues with a lot of the characters. Ray and Ruth, for example. Would two teenagers - one a boy who'd kissed Susie once, one a girl who'd barely spoken to her - really find it so hard to forget her and move on, for so many years afterwards? Though the narrative doesn't detail everything that happens to them, it's implied that Ray in particular (despite apparently being incredibly attractive) never has any kind of romantic involvement with another girl as a result of his continuing preoccupation with the memory of Susie. How convenient, since she's 'watching over' him and the reader is almost encouraged to see him as 'belonging' to her. Similarly, the actions of some of Susie's family (particularly her mother) are difficult to understand. I can well believe that the murder of one daughter would lead a mother to become depressed, alienated from her husband and other children, and ultimately to desert her remaining family - but nothing Abigail does, apart from a cursory affair with one of the policemen investigating Susie's death, is actually explained from her point of view. When she leaves her family, the decision just seems completely baffling - it's one of those 'hang on a minute, what?!' moments because you just don't get inside Abigail's head enough to understand her private motivations.
Sebold makes some attempts to flesh out and humanise Mr. Harvey, Susie's murderer, detailing his efforts to restrain himself from committing his crimes; for example, killing neighbourhood pets in a vain attempt to restrain his appetite for attacking young girls. (The ghostly Susie can, it seems, read minds and know every detail of past events she wasn't involved in; again, very convenient, and there's no explanation of how she comes to realise she has this 'power', or how she masters it.) However, the character is such a cliché in the first place (creepy loner, obsessed with his mother, has weird hobbies) that in the end he seems like neither a monster nor a believable human being, but just a strangely indistinct and nondescript character given that he's a serial killer. It's also very frustrating that he's never caught or given his comeuppance.
Finally, there's the ending. What to say about the ending?! If you've read the book (unless you loved it, of course), you'll probably know what I mean. If you haven't, all I'll say is that something happens that's so utterly ludicrous that deus ex machina doesn't even begin to cover it. Not only that, but the apparent message of this conclusion, and the moral implications for the (living) characters involved, are extremely dubious at best. Having wavered between thinking this book was kind-of-good and kind-of-bad throughout, the ending pushed my opinion firmly into the negative category and ruined many of the positives for me. Sorry to say it, but this is the kind of book that people who normally read nothing but chick-lit will find really PROFOUND and MOVING, which I'd imagine is why it sold so many copies. If you don't fit that description, I think it's best avoided. Have a look at the top-rated reviews on Goodreads; they're predominantly negative, and I agree with a lot of what they say....more
The Gargoyle tells the story of a nameless narrator, a porn star, womaniser and coke addict, whose life is dramatically altered when he crashes his caThe Gargoyle tells the story of a nameless narrator, a porn star, womaniser and coke addict, whose life is dramatically altered when he crashes his car in the midst of a drug-induced hallucination. Waking in a hospital bed, he finds his body and face horribly, and irreparably, burned. While he recuperates, he is visited by an enigmatic woman, Marianne Engel - a psychiatric outpatient and, the narrator speculates, possibly manic-depressive and/or schizophrenic - who claims the two of them were lovers in a past life, in fourteenth-century Germany. As she tells him the story of 'their' past together, the narrator finds himself slowly transformed from a suicidal misanthrope into a much happier man as, despite his horrific injuries (including the loss of his penis) he falls in love with Marianne and forms friendships with those who surround him.
This book has been out for a while and it's something I'd considered reading before, but could never quite decide on - a combination of a plot that, for some reason, didn't 100% appeal to me, and mixed reviews from others. But I'm so glad I did eventually decide to read it. It kept surprising me, again and again - it was so much more than I expected it to be. The story is split into two first-person narratives (the narrator's present-day record of his time in hopsital and gradual recovery, and Marianne's description of her past life as a medieval nun) alongside a number of other stories Marianne tells the narrator; tales of love and loss from across the ages and around the world. Later, as the narrator imagines himself in hell as he battles morphine addiction, there's an absolutely fantastic chapter which reworks Dante's Inferno and revisits the heroes of Marianne's stories, who return as ghosts to guide him through the underworld. The sections describing the narrator's burns and the agonising surgeries he has to endure are very graphic, often painful to read, but they do a great job of making his plight seem very real to the reader and, ultimately, make his redemption all the more remarkable and moving.
There was one thing that really annoyed me all the way through, however - the narrator refers to Marianne by her full name, Marianne Engel, every time he mentions her, even when her name is shown numerous times on the same page. If there was an actual reason for this, I couldn't figure it out. I can't stand it when authors do this - so unnecessary, it's hardly as if there's any danger of her being confused with another character! It says a lot for the last few chapters that by the time I reached them, I was so involved in the story that it (finally) stopped aggravating me quite as much.
Quite often I read books I expect to enjoy when I begin them; this was an unknown quantity, and it impressed me so much. The message, as far as the book has one, is predictable (of course, the narrator ends up happier as a disfigured 'freak' with a mentally ill partner than he ever was as a beautiful, affluent man with all the sex and drugs he could wish for; he learns the value of love and friendship because of his injuries, finally chooses to remain that way, etc) but its delivery is unique. Nothing about the story was what I expected it to be, and the penultimate chapter almost moved me to tears. An excellent read, highly recommended....more
Let me begin this review by saying that I really enjoyed Lev Grossman's The Magicians. I didn't think it was perfect, by any means - I wasn't keen on Let me begin this review by saying that I really enjoyed Lev Grossman's The Magicians. I didn't think it was perfect, by any means - I wasn't keen on Quentin, and the saga of his relationship with Alice and how he behaved about it really pissed me off - but altogether I found it to be an original, enjoyable, and gloriously escapist read. I will admit that I am not the biggest fan of all-out fantasy, but I liked the fact that The Magicians couched its fantastical elements in a recognisable version of the 'real world', which tends to be a difficult thing to pull off. Altogether, I'd been looking forward to this follow-up since it was first announced, and have had it on my wishlist since the title was confirmed. Therefore, it was a big disappointment, and a bit of a surprise, that I really didn't like it much at all.
The Magician King picks up some time after the end of the first book. Quentin and friends are still in Fillory, the Narnia-like magical alternate world, where they now reign as kings and queens. But typically, Quentin is restless and not particularly happy; he thinks there must be something more to achieve, and he sets off on a mission to recover taxes from a remote island, taking the increasingly aloof - and powerful - Julia with him. The story unfolds as a disjointed kind of quest that never really seems to go anywhere. There are moments of excitement, but what ends up happening is repeatedly anticlimactic. It's hard to tell whether this is intentional - obviously, the whole point of the Magicians books is to subvert the cosy stereotypes usually found in this type of tale. Either way, it feels very unsatisfying. Some chapters branch off into Julia's history, which I wanted to be interested in, but the book never quite shakes off the feeling that she's secondary to Quentin, plus she's just not very likeable - not to mention the fact that her story goes beyond ridiculous in the end.
And then there's the way it's all written, which I could talk about forever. There are knowing references to Harry Potter, Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Alice in Wonderland, etc everywhere - to the point, for example, of Brakebills (this world's school of magic) actually being referred to as Hogwarts. It's like being constantly nudged and winked at, like the book is continually making sure you're 'in on the joke'. In the same vein, there's far too much swearing. I couldn't care less about swearing in books, it certainly doesn't offend me, but it's shoved into the narrative so often that it just becomes exhausting. The repeated lazy usage of 'shit' to mean stuff/things particularly grates. I presume this is all to hammer home that these characters are adults, that this world is far from whimsical despite the presence of talking animals and magical islands. It's so unnecessary, though.
Part-way through reading the book, I highlighted this passage to demonstrate a perfect example of the style:
Of course Iris had every right. That's how the system worked. She was doing Julia a fucking favor. Babysitting the noob was evidently not considered a premium assignment at Murs, and she wasn't going to pretend to enjoy it. Which whatever, but this did not oblige Julia to pretend to be grateful either. Really she ought to dog it a few times, she thought, just to piss Iris off. Show her that Julia had nothing to prove. See how long it took her to lose her shit.
I mean, 'noob'? 'Which whatever'? Fuck, piss and shit in one short paragraph for no real reason? Not long afterwards the word 'nomming' was seriously used, at which point I almost threw my Kindle at the wall. I get that the narrative is partly meant to represent the internal voice of Quentin/Julia, but god, it's irritating. And THE WHOLE BOOK is written like this. Afterwards, I had to find my copy of The Magicians to refresh my memory about the style - and yes, it had its fair share of profanity and slang, but The Magician King makes it look like a nominee for the Nobel prize for literature.
Perhaps this book will be more popular with readers more accustomed to and/or comfortable with fantasy fiction. Most of the events in Fillory, along with the climax of Julia's backstory, went too far into territory I found ludicrous and bizarre (in a bad way). I didn't like any of the characters, the interaction between Quentin and Poppy was sloppily done and unbelievable, I hated that Quentin was STILL hung up on the now-dead Alice having slept with Penny AFTER THEY SPLIT. Admittedly, I did at least feel compelled to keep reading right to the end; there's a few good bits, if you look for them. But it was a hard slog to finish the book and I doubt I'm going to be reading any further installments. Overall: a mess. 1.5 stars (narrowly missing out on a one-star review because it just isn't QUITE as bad as the other books I've given one star)....more