It has been a long while since I have been back and I really do need to manage my book shelves a little bit more closely. I thought I had already pruned my bookshelves to all the must-keeps, but as the collection grows within my very finite space, I invariably find myself needing to part with some because
... they are duplicate copies, because well, I need to watch my shelves better:
- C S Lewis, Prince Caspian, HarperCollins 1998 (colour edition)
This is actually a full colour collector's edition of my favourite Narnia book. I have the full set on my shelves and a proseltyising copy, so technically I do not need a third copy of this book. Save age (coloured papers), the book is in great condition. It is the second book in the series, but third book chronologically - so this would be good for anyone who had already read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
- James A Owen, The Indigo King, Simon & Schuster 2009
The book is also in a great condition, but is unfortunately the third (?) book of The Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica. This is a fantastic series that I should really dedicate an entire review to.
... I have outgrown this and they need to go for other books!:
- Dominic Barker (Blart: The boy who didn't want to save the world; Blart II: The boy who was wanted dead or alive - or both; Blart: The boy who set sail on a questionable quest) , Bloomsbury 2006, 2007, 2008 respectively
I'd recommend this for younger readers, who are just beginning to start on serialised fantasy fiction - particularly lads or readers who like some snark.
- Mercedes Lackey, (The Fairy Godmother; The Snow Queen; One Good Knight; Fortune's Fool), Luna 2004, 2006, 2007, 2008 respectively
Luna is a subsidiary of Harlequin, so that is enough said. The Fairy Godmother is a great start, and the rest of the series is not too bad, just not fantastic enough in light of the rest of the books demanding space.
Just buzz if you want any of these books! Ye, F.O.C.
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Candle Man: The Society of Unrelenting Vigilance by Glenn Darkin
Glenn Dakin
Egmont
2009
Introduction
Set in the equivalent of Victorian England, two secret societies battle for supremacy both in London and in the myriad of tunnels that lies beneath: the Society of Good Works, which seeks to bend all else to their will through excessive kindness, aptly started by the Philanthropist and consisting primarily of the idle rich and members of the aristocracy; and the Society of Unrelenting Vigilance, which is formed by the victims of the Society of Good Works, seeking to forestall the latter’s evil plans.
In the centre of this battle was an oblivious, young lad, Theo, who has spent a good part of his life in complete isolation, ostensibly because of a life-threatening health condition. He has been told that he must wear special gloves at all times and that he requires very painful treatments every day or he will die. This subliminal messaging created Theo’s sense of identity and for the longest time, he thought of himself as nothing more than a helpless invalid. Still, Theo longs to learn about the outside world and becomes increasingly desperate to meet people other than his guardian Dr. Saint, his butler Mr Nicely and his deaf maid Clarice, but he gets more than what he has wished for when he discovers that his disease is in fact a mysterious power to melt people into puddles of goo in a chance confrontation with two burglars. Confused by this sudden discovery and newly suspicious of his guardian’s intentions in imprisoning him, Theo soon escapes under the assistance of a garghoul (a living gargoyle) and the Society of Unrelenting Vigilance. In the ensuing clashes between the two societies, Theo learns that Dr. Saint is the head of the Society of Good Works seeking to nullify the threat of Theo’s heritage to the society’s plans. Even as he struggles to stay one step ahead of Dr Saint and his cronies with the help of the SUV, Theo soon finds himself also battling a horde of creatures thought to be extinct led by an ancient nemesis, the Dodo. The plot thickening at every twist and turn, this action-packed story with a steampunk edge is an easy and quick read for the young readers it is intended for and the overgrown kids alike.
Review
I came across a review of this book in one of my LJ communities (I can’t recall which one – if you had reviewed the book recently, thank you; you were the reason why I went to pick up the book) and was immediately intrigued. I have a very soft spot for Victorian steam-punk, even before I know there was such a genre to begin with, and particularly those written by British writers. (I am an Anglophile, I readily confess.)
Let me say it up front, this book was worth every pretty penny I paid for the hardcover.
YA speculative fiction has suffered of late from the effects of mass commercialism and the gradual death of new untried ideas that it has become incredibly difficult to find a good plot that does not involve wizards, vampires, werewolves, high school romance and dragons and new unfamiliar characters with personalities that are custom made specifically for them. The Candle Man broke through this trap of familiarity. The protagonist is different: brought up in a stern environment specially designed to brainwash him into a useless and malleable tool, his world view is warped. In one instance, he tells another character very solemnly that he considers the pursuit of happiness a social sin – “the pursuit of happiness makes people selfish... [i]t causes friction and society and leads to a morbid fear of death” – in such a matter-of-fact tone that the reader is brought to sympathise with the young man’s plight. The fantastical creatures are also refreshing after a flood of werewolves, vampires, goblins and elves: Dakin created an army of extinct animals controlled by a man who looked like a Dodo (how’s that for surreal), gargoyles brought to life and creatures made out of smog.
Dakin also has a flair for drawing the reader into his created world with his rich descriptions of a smog-ridden, both literally and metaphorically, London and the two warring secret societies. What I find even more striking is his ability to navigate moral ambiguity in a YA book. The ironic treatment, the subversion rather, of philanthropy and the caricature of the idle rich’s penchant to take up charitable causes lends the tale of the ignorant superhero on the cusp of discovering the full extent of his powers a more sophisticated and complex layer – which I appreciated greatly probably because I share the same bias, albeit not to the extent portrayed in the story, that philanthropy is often self-serving and inherently selfish. (I am a cynical Hobbes-leaning soul.)
If I had any criticism for this book, it is probably that the book is too much of a page-turner. Dakin has written for television and in some aspects it shows: each action scene moves on to the next relentlessly and every turn, just as you think the writer has to slow down a little and let the characters/readers take a breath, the plot picks up yet again. The fast moving and very well-paced plot comes at the expense of characterisation. There is hardly any time for a reader to be acquainted with any of the other characters to a point that their entrance/exit points always seem very abrupt. While I am able to empathise with Theo, I find myself feeling nothing for the other characters, which makes some developments a lot less impactful emotionally than they otherwise would have. At the same time, (a much smaller point) Dakin should really not try to be philosophical. When he tries through the voice of Tristus in the book, I cringed for a good two pages.
Final Verdict
A good departure from the usual fare on the main shelves these days. Great read. Like titles that folks interested in this might like to try may be: Philip Reeves’ Larklight (he has better sense of humour and great characterisation, but less intricate plot); and for less fantasy: Catherine Webb’s Horation Lyle – same steampunk effect, good plotting; and Eleanor Updale’s Montmorency, a series that I so adore I should dedicate an entire post just to it.
Rating
4/5 because I already put a note to buy Society of Dread the moment it is out.
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Suzanne Collins
Scholastic Children’s Books
2009
Introduction
This disturbing young adult novel is based in a dystopia, where civilisation, if it could be called such, was divided into thirteen districts. In a move to quell the spirit of the citizens and squash any hope of a rebellion, the Capitol, presumably the highest authority, started this televised game where two representatives from each district would be fielded in The Hunger Games every year. Held in a contained environment known as the Arena, participants had only one objective: to be the last one alive. The book traced District Twelve’s Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark’s struggles to survive against all odds under the intense scrutiny of an unscrupulous media and the callous dismissal of the audience.
Review
I had so many people recommending this book to me, and given the calibre and taste of these folks, I thought nothing of travelling down to a bookstore at lunch one day just to pick this up. Partly out of respect for these same friends, I am weighing my review here very carefully.
The world that Collins has created is terrifying in its careless disregard for humanity, where the citizenry would rather fall in line and send two people from their community, whatever their age, into the Arena to die than to broach a rebellion against the authorities. Society is dysfunctional, as the black market becomes a key driver in the economy keeping the lower strata alive. The income divide between the haves and the have-nots is stark and the chances of survival are minimal. Half the time, I am not even certain that people want to survive. The Hunger Games plays up the violence, the bestiality in the participants in their efforts to keep alive; these I can excuse – I am a subscriber to the Hobbesian nature of man. Left on themselves, it is human nature to always watch for one’s survival and in so doing, life for one and all will be “nasty, brutish, solitary and short” – exactly the way the Games played out. I also appreciate how Collins kept most of them nameless – they are meant to be pawns. What I have found more revolting is the delight the cameras take in capturing each moment, the need to ham it up for the audience at home, the dependence on commercial sponsors for survival, the need to create a media persona in order to attract those same sponsors as well as support of the audience: basically the hallmark of reality competition shows today. Marrying the two concepts, the dystopian society and the immoral media, has been a stroke of genius, because it paints an unbelievably bleak view of the degeneration of humankind.
For reasons of the above description, I really would not recommend the book to any young reader. Not because I am dogmatic, conservative and moralistic, I’d like to think, but because, well I’ll much rather they keep a rosier view on life and humanity for a while longer. There is a part of me that wonders if Collins had intended to write the story for an older audience but lack either the confidence or the panache to carry it to the adult market instead. (I also suspect that the books would not have been as well received if marketed as an adult series from the get-go.)
Collins engages the reader well. Telling the story from the Katniss point of view is no mean feat, considering the character’s preoccupation with survival, almost at the cost of her principles, her ethics and morals. Her suspicious outlook borders on paranoia and her easy brutality shocks this reader. She, I find, is only redeemed by her emotional bond – I hesitate to say ‘love’ – for her sister, Prim and by association, District 11’s contestant, Rue. Her inability to see beyond the Games and survival, or perhaps, letting down the defences that she has erected in order to keep her family alive under the cold oppressive regime all these years renders her blind both to Peeta’s blatant affections for her as well as the possibility of rebellion. (I did wonder why no one thought of rebelling - but a quick scan through some of the most impoverished countries in the world today answered that: too many are too concerned with keeping alive that they would gladly abet the regime in keeping their oppressive hold if it meant them surviving another day.) That I managed to read through the book from the POV of a character that I at once respect, abhorred and pitied is, I find, testimony to Collins’ skill and vision.
However, I do wonder, and I should poll people here, whether the concept was what blown most people away. The dystopia at least and the idea of the games. What struck me when I was reading the book was how similar the concepts were to other works, namely: Richard Bachman’s (Stephen King) The Running Man and most definitely Koushun Takami’s Battle Royale. It brings me back to my discomfort in Jordan’s: when is it plagiarism? Besides this idea of last-man-standing in a game for survival, the first also played up the media angle and the concept of reality-TV-turns-brutal, which is more remarkable than Hunger Games considering that it was written in a time before reality telly became a norm; and the second for the concept of a contained battle arena and the use of the annual battle game to suppress the spirit of an entire populace. I did find that my having read Battle Royale, both novel and manga, made the Hunger Games a less exciting read, particularly because I thought the characters in BR were better fleshed out. Unlike HG, BR’s focus was not only on the protagonist and a chosen antagonist – and the Japanese have a cultural gene for the macabre. I also saw ironic humour on the blurb on the back cover quoting Stephen King as saying “Constant suspense... I couldn’t stop reading”, because well, I would have said the same about The Running Man and this was essentially his story retold, albeit with better characterisation and fewer plot holes. The only angle which I thought was a refreshing addition was the focus on playing for the camera, on the importance of styling and the public image – which has not been included in other books of the same nature.
Final Verdict
It was a good read, if not entirely enjoyable given the subject matter. If I can get over comparing it to Running man and Battle Royale, I would probably be able to rate this higher.
Rating
3 ...
... because I really do not feel the compulsion to pick up the next book.
The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
Robert Jordan
Orbit
1991
Introduction
I first read The Wheel of Time (whatever was published at that point) when I was thirteen. I cannot remember my initial reaction to Robert Jordan, but I had obviously loved the series enough to read all the books in the series published and continued reading the next couple of books the moment it could hit the shelves at the local library. (Again, I wonder how I lived through a time where instant self-gratification was not made possible by Amazon.com or better yet, Fictionwise.com.) Somewhere along the few thousands pages I must have gotten tired of waiting for the next book and stopped following the series. Well, I am back – 13 years after that first introduction:
The Eye of the World is the first book in the Wheel of Time series. Any reader of the fantasy genre will find it difficult not to have at least picked up this book, considering the mark the series has made on the sub-genre of “epic fantasy”. I cannot decide whether The Wheel of Time is longer than Stephen Erikson’s Book of the Malazan, but it is certainly one of the longest running fantasy series. Jordan had a good eye for detail, which results not only in an intricate (read: long and at times, convoluted) plot, but also a long list of characters, each with their distinct personality traits and quirks. If he wrote with a heavy hand at times, treating readers as though they were two steps behind and he needed to drag them up to speed, he was quickly forgiven for his pacing of the plot was brilliantly designed to keep the reader constantly turning the pages (in the initial few books at least.)
The storyline in this instalment is easy enough to follow – which will probably not be the case by Book Ten. The Darklord is loosed and he is on the hunt for one special lad, the reincarnation of the Dragon, to serve his nefarious purposes (what else, but to take over the world, I imagine). His spies have narrowed it down to three lads in a quiet, unimpressive village in Two Rivers: Rand, Mat and Perrin. When he sent his army of Trollocs and Fades after them, the three lads were forced to flee with the aid and protection of Aes Sedai Morriane and her Warder Lan [1]. Through many trials and tribulations the three came to a face-down with the Darklord in the forsaken Blight, just where the Eye of World was located.
[Note 1: The Aes Sedai were members of an order of female mages, who could tap on the One Power (One Source) – the male Aes Sedai were either “tamed” or imprisoned by the females, because the male half of the One Power was tainted, driving anyone who tapped on it into insanity and usually in the process causing great harm to the people around them. The Warders serve as the personal security detail of these female Aes Sedai.]
Review
In my re-reading this time around, now that I am a lot more familiar with fantasy and have become an avid fan of the genre, I was very much struck by the similarities between LOTR and the Eye of the World, particularly in the casting of the villains and male characters. (Jordan would not have been able to base his female characters on Tolkien’s material, seeing how little Tolkien pays attention to the females, relative to the males.) There are so many areas where I can see the overlay of Tolkien’s influence that I was actually uncomfortable -where do you draw the line between plagiarism and artistic influence- but here are some of the ways:
· Two Rivers was basically a human version of the Shire, with the three lads pretty much like the Hobbits, with Mat, especially, channelling Pippin.
· The Trollocs who attacked the village, and became the primary hunters for the boys were very much like the orcs. They were commanded by the Fades/ Myrddraals, whose description could have well described the Wraiths/ Nazgul.
· In their journey to refuge – which is a place of learning and the home of the Aes Sedai (channelling Imladris, anyone?), they had to evade the ravens, acting as spies to the Dark Lord, which is not too unlike the crebain in LOTR.
· Lan was pretty much like Aragorn – and any more that I say on this accord will become spoilers. Though good lord, he hunted on the borderlands, was taught his battle arts through the forsaken Blight. Dunedain, rangers? Sigh.
· Loial the Ogeir, a tree-loving, knowledge loving, long-living race of creatures not too unlike the Trollocs in appearance. I would have said elves, but I think here, the racial traits were imported but not personality and physical traits. The descriptions of an Ogier council was highly similar to the description of an Entmoot to boot.
· Carrying an object given by one of the Darklord’s caused one of the characters to become withdrawn, suspicious, paranoid even, and increasingly losing his personality entirely because of the taint of evil that insidiously take control of the bearer and become pretty much a tracking device for the creatures of the dark. Does this sound familiar?
· Encountering an old evil creature, while taking a short cut that is rather like a mine full of tunnels and bridges... I shall not dwell on this.
Similarities aside, Jordan does have the enviable ability to give equal treatment to both his female and male characters, a skill that is relatively rare in the genre. The created society appears to lean more towards a matriarchy but the lead characters thus far are male. The book also does pace a tad better (alright, fine *grumbles* much better) than the Lord of the Rings. At this point the plot is not quite that intricate and one barely has to think as we flip from page to page to catch up with the lads making quick their escape from one Darkfriend after another. Plot wise, my chief complaint is that the incorporeal Dark Lord was a tad too much of a caricature and partly as a result, the ending, particularly the final show-down, came across as a rush job and anti-climatic. Nonetheless, I am giving it the benefit of doubt because it is after all only setting the stage for the long journey.
If I do have a complaint on the writing style besides the author occasionally stating to obvious just to make sure you can really see the dramatic irony or you can notice the foreshadowing, it is in the poetry. When Jordan writes songs, usually pub material, it is not too terrible, but poetry in terms in terms of prophesies and formalities on the other hand was terrible. Case in point: “The rose petal floats on water. The kingfisher flashes above the pond. Life and beauty swirl in the midst of death.” – honestly?! (I suspect that Jordan did draw some inspiration from Eastern mysticism when characterising Lan.)
Final verdict
I can see why, as a teenager, I was taken by this fantasy series. It is somewhat of a coming-of-age fantasy series, with substantial coverage of the growth of each of the characters, and the premise of the series is easy enough to grasp. This is still a good introduction to epic fantasy, particularly for readers who still have time to spare (working adults beware), but over the years, I have come to appreciate the more convoluted and mind-boggling plots, especially in the political tussles, the ethical/physical dilemmas in the utilisation of magic, the discourse on societal structures, etc. For those who are looking for fantasy, Robert Jordan is great; for those looking for heavier fare, consider picking up George R R Martin and Jennifer Fallon.
Rating
3.5/5
The Nightrunner Series
Luck in the shadows (Book One of the Nightrunner series)
Lynn Flewelling
Batnam Books
1996
Stalking Darkness (Book Two of the Nightrunner series)
Lynn Flewelling
Batnam Books
1997
Traitor's Moon (Book Three of the Nightrunner series)
Lynn Flewelling
Batnam Books
1999
Shadow's Return (Book Four of the Nightrunner's series)
Lynn Flewelling
Batnam
2008
The only reason why I have taken so long to get around to posting on this blog us because my code of updating requires me to review the last four fantasy novels I've read and I was really, really not up to it. Not because writing a review was terrible in and of itself – I could not bring myself to relive this series. In fact, the series traumatized me so badly I could not read a single fantasy novel in the last three weeks and had to resort to reading novels in my mother tongue instead.
Do not get me wrong – the series started well enough, if a very standard fantasy novel, complete with a typical cast: Seregil, a talented thief/spy from a race that is rather akin to mysterious elves; Alex, a young lad fallen into bad times and worse company, taken up as a young apprentice to Seregil and discovering a talent for walking on the dodgy side, a wizard, spy master and guardian of the all-powerful; dark creatures searching for an amulet that Seregil stole; a jealous apprentice Thero play turn coat and then reformed turn-coat among other periphery characters. BUT it started degenerating into a parody of plot devices, and by the fourth book, there were pirates, dragons, prophecies, necromancy and everything you can even muster up in a fantasy series.
If this short blurb tells you nothing of the actual plot in the series, well, it is because by the end of the series, I am not certain that there is a plot. If there were an actual plot, it is, to use one of my favourite quotes, "as full of holes as a mole's vacation home". At no point in this series, could I suspend disbelief – and so, although I had no issues with the characters (the characterization was decent, if a tad unoriginal and the characters were likeable), I had not enjoyed the reading experience – a state that I had not been in since I picked up Twilight a year and a half ago. The only reason why I survived the series then? Homoeroticism. This is the first fantasy series I know of, mainstream that is, where the two male protagonists are an official couple, which is rather refreshing – especially given my secret pleasure in GLBT literature (I continue to blame my writing class in university.)
Short review, because, well, I really do not want to dwell any longer. I generally have respect for my authors and I also refrain from scathing reviews because well, authors are people too, and I really do not want to show up on a Google search, only to hurt feelings and egos. Flewelling writes better English than some of these authors who would have required a virulently cutting entry, Stephanie Meyers among them; she has better characters whom you can actually like and sympathise with; but good Lord, she needs an editor who can kick her ass on the plot points.
Generally: 1.5/ 5 stars.
Final Verdict: If you really want to read homoerotic fantasy fiction in the mainstream, try Tanya Huff's Smoke and Ashes instead. Now that this is done and over with I can finally get around to reading again.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Cormac McCarthy
Knopf Books
2006
Introduction
If I had to describe this novel, it would have been: "A journey of a father and his son across the ravaged abyss. No humanity remained; no hope could have survived. Grey, dark and deafening desolation. They had nothing and there was nothing to be had. The man knew: his son was all that stood between him and death": except that my Literature teacher had always told me to stay with critical text and forget recreative writing. This is a story about a dying man and his love for his son in post apocalyptic America – where man has forgotten humanity and resort to whatever means they have to survive, even if it means eating their own kind. McCarthy details a raw and profoundly emotional tale of their journey as the father seeks to keep his child alive both in body and in spirit against the most hostile odds.
Caution: Do not read if already clinically depressed.
Review
When my friend gave me a copy of this novel three years ago, he warned me of two things:
- McCarthy has a style similar to Ernest Hemingway and seeing how I am none too fond of Hemingway, I will need to be patient with the language and see how McCarthy's style actually fits and enhances his subject in "The Road"; and
- If ever I decide to do a review of this book, I should proceed very carefully with the critique, because McCarthy is a man's author and there will be many out there who will tear me to shreds should I say a single word that is not suitably deferential.
I seldom read apocalyptic stories – because life, as it is, is depressing enough – and it is a testimony to McCarthy's sheer skill that I waded through two boxes of Kleenex to finish this book three years ago and once more today. He writes not of a fantastical world borne out of the destruction of reality as we know it, but of a return to the harsh, brutal and barbarous environment that predated the birth of humanity and civilization. He sets out to paint the basic nature of man as Thomas Hobbes saw it: "nasty, brutish, solitary and short", as post-apocalyptic America degenerates into a hellhole where every tiny morsel of food is scavenged, where man will enslave and herd their own species as a source of food, where God no longer exists and where even waking up to a brand new day is nothing to hope for.
The bleak landscape is made all the more stark by his short, crisp sentences, broken up by beautifully savage descriptions of the state of ruin and death. Just as his characters wasted not in order to survive, McCarthy cut words, sentences, punctuation down to the barest minimum. Dialogues between characters are usually simple verbal phrases, curt and devoid of human conversation. McCarthy writes prose the way good poets write poetry: the world is full of "charred and limbless trunks of trees", "[b]lack water running from under the sodden drifts of ash" "sagging hands of blind wire string from blackened lightpoles." In this landscape the reader is acutely aware: there is no future to be had; how can there be hope?
Yet the reader fervently hopes, as we walk alongside the father and the son. On surface, the novel is nothing more than descriptions after descriptions of their struggles for survival on this desperate journey to nowhere, kept alive by the fast moving plot, the relentless tension and McCarthy's superior finesse with the details that create a realistic and haunting landscape. So well did McCarthy capture his characters that by the end of the book, I have even adopted the father's paranoid worldview: no one is to be trusted, threat looms in every corner. At every step of the journey, I am deeply torn. I urge the father to overcome his terminal illness and bring his son one more step closer to safety; yet knowing just how the hopeless the future is, I find myself agreeing with the deceased mother that suicide and an early death may be the kinder mercy.
On a deeper reading however, I did think that this is rather more a story of a man's struggles to maintain his morality, his sanity, his soul intact not just against the hostile environment, but also in face of his overwhelming love for his son. How much should he be willing to do, how long can he turn his back on humanity and how low was he willing to sink to protect his son? The reader is lured onto moral ambiguity (which is my favourite catchphrase recently), as we understand and condone some of the choices the man makes. Our age and the stage of our lives we are in affect the experience: I was taken aback in this rereading, when I found myself castigating the young boy for his naiveté; in my first reading three years ago, I had pictured the child as the voice of conscience, the last remnants of Godly morality in this barren world.
For all the grey areas (pardon the pun) it is the love of a dying father for his son that offers this dark tale its only solace. My favourite passage in this book and I shall have to leave its context to your imagination and hopefully, your own reading:
"They lay listening. Can you do it? When the time comes? When the time comes there will be no time. Now is the time. Curse God and die. What if it doesnt fire? Could you crush that belived skull with a rock? Is there such a being within you of which you know nothing? Can there be? Hold him in your arms. Just so. The soul is quick. Pull him toward you. Kiss him. Quickly."
Final verdict
One of the most depressing novels I have ever read. Thought provoking, heart wrenching, it leaves this heavy, heavy weight of catharsis all bottled up inside of me after going through a full box of Kleenex.
Are you kidding? This is a seminal work of art. Go pick it up immediately and buy hardcover.
Rating: 5/5
Personal context
Christmas 2006: I had graduated not too long ago and was settling into my job, which was no walk in the park those first few months. Perry, a good friend with a sick, sick sense of humour, had just managed to score home leave after a year in the battlefields and deigned to send me a graduation package along with my Christmas presents. The Christmas presents were a sweet surprise, but the graduation present took the cake. He had included McCarthy's The Road, nearly hot off the presses, with this note: "…The end of the world is nigh. Have a read whenever you feel like running back to school – I guarantee you, any job will feel better for it."
I read it, put it back on my shelf and never spoke of it again. It was devastating.
Fast forward: January 2010. I am in the doldrums in my (new-ish) job, trapped in a meaningless cycle of disenchantment, disinterest, demotivation and demoralisation. Along came YC, who asked randomly, rather out of the blue, if I would like to attend a book club, who would be discussing The Road. Having forgotten where my copy is, I swung by the library to borrow a copy and read it between the end of the work day and the start of work night.
Perry lied: my job may look so much more bearable for it, but I don't feel better – I am depressed.
The Step Sister Scheme
The Step Sister Scheme
Jim C. Hines
Daw Books (2009)
344 pages
Introduction
The Step Sister Scheme is the first book in a series that revealed what cynical grown-ups always knew: life is never a fairy tale. Cinderella has just married her prince charming, but life after marriage is not at all a smooth journey. Her step sisters has launched a revenge plot that results in the prince being kidnapped and squirreled away in Fairy Town, the realm of the Fairies. Pregnant with the prince's child, Cinderella, whose real name is actually Danielle, sets off to rescue her one true love with the help of – wait for it – Snow White, a mirror mage with first class flirting instincts and Talia, a fairy-blessed, martial arts expert who is really Sleeping Beauty. Familiar villains abound and a few surprising twists springing up now and then, Cinders has to rely on her new companions and her furry and feathered friends to get back that "happily ever after" the Grimm brothers promised her.
Review
I love retellings and it is often difficult to find someone who does retellings well, much less someone who can do an engaging parody the way Hines does it. In The Step Sister Scheme, Hines gives familiar classics a dry sense of humour interspersed with dark realism, while placing a fresh (and often sinister) lens on some of the plot loopholes that we have conveniently overlooked in the rose-tinted Disney versions of these fairy tales. While the book is clearly meant more for light entertainment, it is not a simple fanciful romp through fairy tale land – Hines went out of his way to make this a relatively intelligent read. Not only does he do his research into the origins of these fairy tales, he also provides some room for thought and will probably give feminists a field day. Being a natural dork, I appreciate the fact that Hines has chosen the Grimm Brother's version of Cinderella, Aschenputtel, as his source story. The plot is fast moving and well-paced, leaving no room for the reader to put the book down once past the first chapter.
Above all, Hines has made Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty a lot more likeable and believable than their original namesakes. No more damsels in disguise depending on magic and the goodwill of some external forces, these ladies are fantastic heroines with functional brains and wits of their own. Nor are they one-dimensional archetypes: these women have to grapple with their respective pasts and moral dilemmas and in the process, make some choices with such a cavalier attitude that that their princess-y predecessors would be tearing their beautiful tresses out six feet under. There may be some complaints about how Hines give each of these princesses specific personality traits that border on being stereotypes, but I am giving him the benefit of the doubt since this is but the first in the series.
If I have a complaint, it would be Hines' treatment of secondary and particularly villainous characters. Just as all the fairy tales, these characters remain underdeveloped and come across as the singular archetypes that the good guys are not. The only exception was Danielle's stepsister, Charlotte, who could have been a tad more interesting if there was enough air time. Randomly, does anyone share my fascination with the fact that the princes in these fairy tales are really the most token characters? They are there just for the kiss – how's that for objectification?
Magnus opus this is not, but boy, it is a delightful and highly engaging read. I am waiting impatiently for my book dealer to give me the next book.
Final verdict
Take this book for what it is – an entertaining trade paperback. Do not expect grand themes and complex characters. Think Hollywood's spring vacation movie offerings, and you are good to go.
Rating: 4
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