“His death story seemed very heavy to me, in whatever unit death stories get measured.” (Karen Russell, Swamplandia!, p126)
“Spaghetti Surprise was a simple equation for indigestion, invented by Mom: Noodles tossed like a blond wig over all your leftovers. Noodles as a culinary disguise for gross, inedible root vegetables: surprise! In a trash can this dish was raccoon kryptonite; even Grandpa couldn’t finish it.” (Karen Russell, Swamplandia!, p117-118)
A nocturnal circus is the venue for a contest between two magicians. The plot of this story is enjoyable but not exceptional. There is a love story which I found not to be compelling at all. There is a separate plot with a young man finding his way which took a while to find its way (but did, eventually). Again, these plots are enjoyable enough but not enough by themselves to recommend the book. Some characters are compelling (Celia, one of the magicians) while others remain flat (Marco, the other magician).
BUT the circus itself is fabulous. Not since the Cemetery of Lost Books (from Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s The Shadow of the Wind and The Angel’s Game) have I encountered such an enchanting, exciting locale. The circus is only open at night, and new tents and wonders are continually added. This book is worth reading just for the circus, which is the main and by far the most intriguing character.
Jim Dale continues to be the best reader in the business for fantastical tales; if you don’t know what I’m talking about run (don’t walk) and listen to him reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.
Note on content: The book has exactly one swear word as well as I can remember (an f-word, right near the beginning). There is one intimate scene portrayed briefly and in very figurative terms (e.g., “he covered her body with kisses”).
If you haven’t read The Magicians, go read that first. Stop reading this review. The Magician King is Lev Grossman’s excellent sequel. The book proceeds in parallel narratives, alternating by chapters, between King Quentin and his fellows king and queens in Fillery on the one hand, and the story of what happened to Julia, Quentin’s high-school crush, after she failed the entrance exam to Brakebills. The narratives come together in the final chapters. Quentin is still something of a sad sack, always hoping that the next adventure or quest will bring him happiness (guess how that works out), and his story starts a little slow given how familiar it seems to what we’ve seen before. But it picks up as the quest grows more dire, filled with plot twists, and as Quentin learns some invaluable lessons about heroism. (I really liked the ending of this book; it completely defied expectations and yet managed to be powerful and satisfying at the same time.)
Julia’s narrative is filled with desperation, as she tries to learn magic through an unregulated network of magicians with no formal training. Just as the first book managed to capture certain emotional processes wonderfully (such as betrayal), so this one captures obsession and desperation. There is also lots of humor, pop culture references, and endless creativity. (Occasionally Grossman fills a scene with so many creative ideas that it’s concentrated delight, as in the contest of swordsmanship competition in this book and the Brakebills entrance exam in the last.) I highly recommend this book. The reading in the unabridged audiobook is excellent.
Note on content: The book has strong language scattered throughout, some fantasy violence, and one harrowing scene of sexual violence.
In this unabridged audiobook, Joyce Meyer shares a series of ideas about how to win the battle to maintain good, positive thoughts. Meyer is a Christian, and the book is filled with biblical verses and their applications to this topic. The principal message of the first half of the book is to fill your mind and heart with the word of God from the scriptures as a tool to keep control of your mind. Meyer practices what she preachers here: I was impressed at the breadth of biblical scriptures she draws on.
The second half of the book is dedicated to what Meyer calls “wilderness mentalities.” She relates how the Israelites, led by Moses, could have arrived at the Promised Land in a matter of days, but their lack of faith kept them in the wilderness for 40 years. She then shares from the Old Testament a series of scriptures showing thought processes exhibited by the Israelites in the story and elucidates how they apply to us. It’s a nice metaphor and I found it useful. At one point, she shares how, when tempted to engage in some unconstructive thinking, she asked herself, “Joyce, do you really want to circle that mountain one more time?” alluding to the Israelites circling again and again during their wandering in the wilderness. I have found that question useful in my own efforts.
I didn’t love everything about the book. Meyer is not very friendly to the use of reason (seeing it as often an enemy to faith), I wouldn’t totally rely on every fact (for example, she says that most scholars believe Ecclesiastes was written by King Solomon, which I believe is not true), and – like many self-help books – the book provides lots of good ideas but no systematic program for improvement. Still, the ideas are helpful, and I had a good feeling as I listened to the audiobook version of this. I recommend it.
Note on content: Nothing objectionable, unless you’re offended by excessive quoting of Bible verses.
Quentin, a hyper-competitive, super-intelligent high school student is on his way to a Princeton undergraduate entrance interview when he is diverted and discovers Brakebills, a five-year magical university hidden in upstate New York. Imagine – and if you’ve read anything about this book, you’ve already seen this – Harry Potter for grown-ups. There is also a series of books within The Magicians about a magical land called Fillery, which are clearly an homage to the Narnia books. I’d recommend against reading lots of reviews, as many reveal a key plot twist that doesn’t take place until halfway through the book.
I listened to the unabridged audiobook and had trouble putting down my ipod. From the opening of the first chapter, I loved the prose: smooth, well constructed, a pleasure. Grossman – in his protagonist Quentin – expertly illustrates a teenager and then a man constantly seeking for external sources of happiness with the expected results. I remember a scene that was particularly emotionally resonant, in which one character has betrayed another and slowly, step-by-step, goes from self-justification to admitting (to himself) the gravity of his action. The emotional resonance and the prose surpass the fantasy genre.
Yet relative to the genre, the creativity is wonderful, with a number of ideas (and a twist regarding time) that I haven’t seen before and thoroughly enjoyed. I cannot wait to listen to the sequel, Magician King.
Note on content: The book has a few sex scenes (not graphically detailed for the most part), strong language, and a couple of scenes of graphic violence.
[Caveat: I listened to about one-third of this audiobook before giving up.]
Ozma’s father read aloud to her every single night from when she was nine years old until she left for college. That’s lovely. I love books and reading and reading to my children, so I thought I would enjoy this book. However, the book isn’t about the books they read, or about how the books affected their lives, or really about reading the books at all. Each chapter begins with a quote from a book they read, but other than that, the author talks little about the books or the reading. Rather, this is a memoir of Ozma growing up with her father. And I found it incredibly…mild. There is no real conflict, just a series of little stories, hiding out in the museum with her father for a boy-hater’s club, getting locked in the principal’s office, and so on. No real conflict, just pleasant little stories.
Also, two sticking points: First, from a causal inference crank (me). Ozma’s father writes the foreword and points out all the fabulous academic achievements that Ozma has achieved, suggesting the link between years of reading aloud and said achievements. We all know that reading aloud is great for kids, but the specific link in this case is pretty tenuous. How much of these wonderful achievements comes from reading Alice in Wonderland and how much comes from having a father who encourages reading in other ways, from having a father who works at a school, and so on.
Second, from a book-loving crank. Ozma attributes the finding of Narnia to SUSAN in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Susan! I would be annoyed if this were a regular book, but this is a book about someone who loves books and children’s literature. Susan’s the last one who would have discovered Narnia.
I’m sure many people would enjoy this book, but it is not a book about the books that Ozma and her father shared, or about books at all.
PS For an excellent essay on reading aloud to your children, read Anne Fadiman’s introductory essay in her book Rereadings: Seventeen writers revisit books they love.