You know that feeling when you pick up a book and in the first few pages you can tell it's going to be a real good one? I get that feeling when I open the crisp, somber pages of a Neil Gaiman book or the tattered, well loved pages of a Terry Pratchett novel. Anything Discworld has always been one hell of an adventure in silliness, expanding my world view and managing to be so hilarious that at some point I will be crying with laughter, guaranteed. That incredible man had a way of weaving the most hectic of storylines into something truly incomprehensible and utterly beloved. Neil Gaiman is a new favorite of mine but definitely a firm one. The few novels I have read of his so far have been wonderfully inventive - he dwells in the darker places of fiction and even if you'd not call him straight up inventive, he does have a certain knack for tying together established mythology, religious iconography, and bizarre character builds in a way that entertains and informs in just the right mix. The first thing I notice about the book is Terry's style of peppering the pages with asterisks and corresponding notes for perusal. This is something I had to get used to the first time I picked up The Colour Of Magic. I'll be honest, I was not a fan at first, but he has a talent for choosing just the right point in the narrative to pause and fill you in on some relevant detail or anecdote that enriches the story before you can plunge right back in. So far the book feels as though Pratchett is writing dialogue in a framework extensively mapped out and furnished by Gaiman and I can only approve. Together they've take a fantastically bizarre idea and set two incredibly well suited writing styles to the task of telling a story together. Brilliant. What we're looking at here is basically a comedy based around the birth of the son of Satan and The End Times, or, basically... The Apocalypse. Oh. It's honestly a real treat. I know I have a fondness for religious icons being blown out of proportion, satirized, given motivations no one has thought of before... I watch Supernatural for goodness sake. Crowley, at one point the King of Hell, has to be one of my favorite characters, and in Good Omens he is present as one of the main characters. His roots lie in the serpent from the Garden of Eden who tempts Eve to eat the fruit of the forbidden tree. He explains his name as having been based off his original name, Crawley, which he ultimately decides isn't really working for him. Silly little details like this make the story immediately seem well thought out and fun, at page one, I'm so ready for this journey.
I don't want to give too much away about the story line in case you're one of the few people in the reading community who haven't read this, as always I try to keep my posts relatively spoiler free as much as I possibly can. There's certainly a knack to writing about a biblical subject without it being horrendously boring and dry, or without making it so hilariously cliche` that you're unable to see past the entirely comedic nature. Here lies the ingenuity of a Pratchett/Gaiman crossover. While Pratchett is a master of bizarrely colourful comedy, Gaiman offsets quirky characters with just the right amount of seriousness. Take the subject of the apocalypse and the arrival of the Anti-Christ - in our story we have representations of the four horsemen who are weirdly glossed over in a way that doesn't directly point them out to be what they truly are and allows readers to fill in the gaps with their own presumptions. In terms of War, Famine, Pestilence (aka the Anti-Christ) and Death, on the opposite side of the story these characters are juxtaposed with child-like versions down to a wonderfully feminine embodiment of War, though these characters ride bicycles instead of the traditional apocalyptic steed. By telling part of the story through the eyes of the children, although the subject matter and overall tone of the story is bordering on creepy, a knifes edge balance is maintained until you switch back to the perspective of a descendant of Agnes Nutter and everything becomes a little ridiculous again. I love the way Pratchett stories flow, feeling in the beginning as though you're quite keeping up with what's happening, to realise that weird stuff is flying all over the place and you're able to keep up with plot twists and barely relevant notes to the point that he makes you wonder if you're mad or just a very capable reader. I always end up feeling like a capable reader. "...there was an ancient woodcut of a man pushing his head through the back of the world, past the sky, and seeing the cogs and the wheels and the engines that drove the universe machine. That's what people do in Terry Pratchett books, even if the people doing it are sometimes rats and sometimes small girls... They open their heads." - Neil Gaiman. Final Verdict 8 out of 10 Brilliant comedic timing, a blend of two incredible story tellers collaborating on an often dry subject and creating something amazing. I recommend the hell out of this book. If you find that stories crawl and you end up putting them down because you find you're not engaged, try this book. In loving memory of Sir Terry Pratchett (April 28, 1948 - March 12, 2015) who enriched my tiny world with the Discworld, and because no one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.
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"My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it." - Ursula Le Guin I have had this tiny novel in my possession for many years. I don't know where it came from, I don't know precisely how long I've had it or even where it came from, all I know is that I've never made it to the end. This is absolutely through no fault of the author or the subject matter, as both are entirely up my alley. A Wizard Of Earthsea was even adapted into a film by Studio Ghibli, who have produced some of my favorite films, ever. Why then, have I never finished this book? The only explanation I can offer is that I probably did read the whole thing in a day when I first got it, then set it aside and promptly forgot all about it. Maybe this is a re-read, but in any case, Le Guin writes classic science fiction and fantasy and has been given so many prestigious awards in duplicate that she was made a Grandmaster Of Science Fiction in 2003. Yes, that's a REAL thing.
A quick note on the film adaptation, taken from Wikipaedia, if you're interested, and certainly a good argument for why you should always read the book before seeing the film! In the early 1980s, animator and director Hayao Miyazaki asked permission to create an animated adaptation of Earthsea. However, Le Guin, who was unfamiliar with his work and anime in general, turned down the offer. Years later, after seeing My Neighbor Totoro she reconsidered her refusal, believing that if anyone should be allowed to direct an Earthsea film, it should be Hayao Miyazaki. The third and fourth Earthsea books were used as the basis of the 2006 animated film Tales From Earthsea. The film, however, was directed by Miyazaki's son, Goro, rather than Hayao Miyazaki himself, which disappointed Le Guin. While she was positive about the aesthetic of the film, writing that "much of it was beautiful", she took great issue with its re-imagining of the moral sense of the books and greater focus on physical violence. "Evil has been comfortably externalized in a villain", Le Guin writes, "the wizard Kumo/Cob, who can simply be killed, thus solving all problems. In modern fantasy (literary or governmental), killing people is the usual solution to the so-called war between good and evil. My books are not conceived in terms of such a war, and offer no simple answers to simplistic questions." On to the book itself! First impressions - I am reminded of many classic fantasy series beginnings; a young protagonist widely considered to be gently foolhardy and is ripe for development. Said protagonist is taken under the wing of a character with dubious but not necessarily bad intentions. I read The Magician when I was mayyyyybe fourteen and I was frankly enchanted by this sort of trope. It also reminded me of a trilogy I read many years ago called Damiano, by R.A. MacAvoy - all these books have a wonderful lost-in-a-forest vibe, with lashings of magic, animal familiars and unforeseen consequences. I've said before that once you've read a high fantasy series you've read all of them, but I feel as though this will appeal to my sense of nostalgia. That's not even taking into consideration that Le Guin's novels often deal with topics like social structure, anarchism, environmentalism. Magic in this universe is written in my favorite way - almost like alchemy and certainly in the vein of hedge witchery, herbalists, wise women/folk, in that everything comes with a price, everything must maintain the great cosmic balance and the smallest change could come with a thousand consequences so each sorcerer, each wizard, must learn the true name of things and practice his craft with the utmost care. There's something fun and liberating about magic just being around for the taking but I do find I prefer this difficult way of magic. It seems to me somehow more believable, as though it makes more sense, the need to work for it. Ged, our main character begins his journey as a bit of a self-serving wizard after establishing himself as extremely powerful from the get-go... He does save his entire village, but soon after he begins to display a thirst for power and knowledge that leads him down a path of questionable intentions though not outward evil, and this does provide the essential 'issue' of the book. The rest of the story centers around Ged trying to make up for his boo-boo with various degrees of suffering, hopelessness, and a sprinkling of endangerment to others. "Tell me just this, if it is not a secret: what other great powers are there besides the light?" "It is no secret. All power is one in source and end, I think. Years and distances, stars and candles, water and wind and wizardry, the craft in a man's hand and the wisdom in a trees root,: they all arise together. My name and yours, and the true name of the sun, or a spring of water, or an unborn child, all are syllables of the great word that is very slowly spoken by the shining of the stars. There is no other power. No other name." I'm almost finished with the book and finding that although the writing is gorgeous at times and the concept of magic is beautifully devised, well thought out... There is something lacking in depth. Maybe it doesn't quite meet expectations as far as my perception of LeGuin's particular strengths, as there is a distinct lack of real world friction. Unrest among the peoples of Earthsea is glossed over quickly in the beginning as it provides a platform for Ged's first public display of magic, but doesn't receive much mention further on and though Ged meets with plenty of strife and helps to solve the problems of others, I feel as though the whole world could have used a little more fleshing out. I am used to quite gritty, often bloody, historical fiction and fantasy, and knowing that there are more Earthsea novels leaves me thinking that perhaps this is yet to come, but judging solely on this book alone I would say it's unlikely.
Final Verdict - 5 out of 10 I can honestly say I never made it to the end of this book before, because I was so mad when I finished it and I'd remember being that mad... I really don't care for a weak ending. Oh, boy. It was wrapped up like a neat little package with the simplest of explanations and although it speaks of a future Ged in a position of power, with great deeds done, the book feels like a stand alone adventure that was ended due to time or paper constraints. The end feels like a definitively clumsy end and there's no room for more. The writing is gorgeous, the pondering journey of Ged is a comfortable thing and the ending was not to my liking. Worth reading as a holiday novel, a rainy day book or as an accompaniment for a plane or train ride. It was a short read and as much as I my be disappointed with the ending itself - that resolution happened in the last three pages - the journey to get there was rather sweet. Yevaud the dragon was my kind of big lizard, though. Very sassy. |
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