Book: The magicians
Apr. 13th, 2012 06:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
livAuthor: Lev Grossman
Details: (c) Lev Grossman, 2009; Pub Arrow Books 2009; ISBN 978-0-0995-3444-0
Verdict: The magicians is uneven but readable.
Reasons for reading it: There's been a fair amount of buzz about it, and I liked the premise.
How it came into my hands:jack leant it to me.
The Magicians is billed as "Harry Potter for grownups", and it sort of is, but it's also trying almost too hard to be self-referentially about what it's like to come of age in a post-HP world. The whole thing seems to veer between existing as a fantasy novel and a parody of a fantasy novel. It definitely grabbed me, I wanted to keep reading, and I cared about the characters and the setting even though the characters are basically obnoxious and the setting is as much grim as it's inventive. I think the most enjoyable parts of the book are where the narrative seems to forget that it's supposed to be all pretentious and angsty and litfic-y and it just dips into being a rollicking good story. Yes, the writing is sometimes clunky, with the character motivations spelled out in almost excruciating detail, but it still builds up tension by successfully creating a series of mysteries which are only gradually revealed.
The problem is that repeatedly, the "reveal" is that the mystery turns out to be sordid and miserable rather than romantic and exciting. After a few rounds of the reader's (and characters') expectations being disappointed by the seedy underpinnings of the magical world, yet hoping that this next mystery will turn out to make everything meaningful, well, it's hard to remain emotionally engaged. It may be cynical, but I suspect the key to the book is Grossman's author bio:
I tried to like the protagonist, because he's undoubtedly well drawn. The problem is that he's so very whiny, and so completely fails to grow up and get over his ridiculous self-centredness that it's a real struggle to have any sympathy for his problems, especially when they stem from being absurdly clever and somewhat wealthy. Which is not to say that privileged, intelligent people can't have troubles, and there are definitely glimmers of sympathy for some of Quentin's plight. But he wallows so much in self-pity because his parents pay more attention to eachother than to him, or because not all the women he's attracted to instantly fall into his arms, or because his friends don't instantly forgive them when he's obnoxious to them that even when he's self-aware of that he's being disgustingly self-pitying, it's hard to care. And Alice, well, Alice ticks most of the "strong female character" boxes, being generally awesome both academically and magically, but the development of her relationship with Quentin just makes her into a manic pixie dream girl and there's just no way he deserves her.
There are some great moments, unquestionably. Grossman appears to be particularly good at writing magical animals; the scene with the geese is rather moving. And Brakebills works very well both as a portrait of an elite university and as a parody of Hogwarts. The narrative hits just the right note of revulsion at the ivory tower life with its cliques and quaint traditions, mixed with love for the opportunity to devote yourself to really intense study in the company of intellectual giants, surrounded by beautiful old buildings and eating the most ludicrously expensive food. And by portraying magic as an intensely difficult academic subject, Grossman manages to both capture the bittersweet experience of devoting your life to a very difficult academic discipline, and creates a plausible and emotionally credible magic system.
I think Fillory worked less well as a parody of / response to Narnia, I think primarily because it comes right at the end of the book when we've already got the message that magical fantasy worlds aren't enough to counter the ennui felt by rich, over-educated 20-somethings who can't work out the meaning of life or even how to treat their fellow humans with a modicum of decency. And yes, heroic battles with evil fantasy creatures aren't particularly noble or uplifting when you're actually living through them, and people get hurt and die, but pretty much every character in a secondary world fantasy in the last 80 years has noticed this, so it's hard to tell whether it's supposed to be parody or just genre expectations.
It seems as if The Magicians is meant to be a bit slipstreamy, it's meant to appeal to both litfic readers who think they're superior to all those fantasy-reading nerds, and to the fantasy-reading nerds themselves. It's only partially successful in this, mainly because it doesn't quite mesh the two aspects, and because it isn't really as clever as it thinks it is.
Details: (c) Lev Grossman, 2009; Pub Arrow Books 2009; ISBN 978-0-0995-3444-0
Verdict: The magicians is uneven but readable.
Reasons for reading it: There's been a fair amount of buzz about it, and I liked the premise.
How it came into my hands:
jack leant it to me.The Magicians is billed as "Harry Potter for grownups", and it sort of is, but it's also trying almost too hard to be self-referentially about what it's like to come of age in a post-HP world. The whole thing seems to veer between existing as a fantasy novel and a parody of a fantasy novel. It definitely grabbed me, I wanted to keep reading, and I cared about the characters and the setting even though the characters are basically obnoxious and the setting is as much grim as it's inventive. I think the most enjoyable parts of the book are where the narrative seems to forget that it's supposed to be all pretentious and angsty and litfic-y and it just dips into being a rollicking good story. Yes, the writing is sometimes clunky, with the character motivations spelled out in almost excruciating detail, but it still builds up tension by successfully creating a series of mysteries which are only gradually revealed.
The problem is that repeatedly, the "reveal" is that the mystery turns out to be sordid and miserable rather than romantic and exciting. After a few rounds of the reader's (and characters') expectations being disappointed by the seedy underpinnings of the magical world, yet hoping that this next mystery will turn out to make everything meaningful, well, it's hard to remain emotionally engaged. It may be cynical, but I suspect the key to the book is Grossman's author bio:
He graduated from Harvard with a degree in literature and went on to the PhD program in comparative literature at Yale, although he left after three years without finishing a dissertation. It's very much about what happens if you're brilliantly talented and get access to a highly privileged life at an elite educational institution, but then mundane reality just doesn't live up to your ideals of saving the world with your amazing genius. In some ways Harry Potter and the methods of rationality handles this kind of angst better, but only in some ways, because Methods has lots of other axes to grind.
I tried to like the protagonist, because he's undoubtedly well drawn. The problem is that he's so very whiny, and so completely fails to grow up and get over his ridiculous self-centredness that it's a real struggle to have any sympathy for his problems, especially when they stem from being absurdly clever and somewhat wealthy. Which is not to say that privileged, intelligent people can't have troubles, and there are definitely glimmers of sympathy for some of Quentin's plight. But he wallows so much in self-pity because his parents pay more attention to eachother than to him, or because not all the women he's attracted to instantly fall into his arms, or because his friends don't instantly forgive them when he's obnoxious to them that even when he's self-aware of that he's being disgustingly self-pitying, it's hard to care. And Alice, well, Alice ticks most of the "strong female character" boxes, being generally awesome both academically and magically, but the development of her relationship with Quentin just makes her into a manic pixie dream girl and there's just no way he deserves her.
There are some great moments, unquestionably. Grossman appears to be particularly good at writing magical animals; the scene with the geese is rather moving. And Brakebills works very well both as a portrait of an elite university and as a parody of Hogwarts. The narrative hits just the right note of revulsion at the ivory tower life with its cliques and quaint traditions, mixed with love for the opportunity to devote yourself to really intense study in the company of intellectual giants, surrounded by beautiful old buildings and eating the most ludicrously expensive food. And by portraying magic as an intensely difficult academic subject, Grossman manages to both capture the bittersweet experience of devoting your life to a very difficult academic discipline, and creates a plausible and emotionally credible magic system.
I think Fillory worked less well as a parody of / response to Narnia, I think primarily because it comes right at the end of the book when we've already got the message that magical fantasy worlds aren't enough to counter the ennui felt by rich, over-educated 20-somethings who can't work out the meaning of life or even how to treat their fellow humans with a modicum of decency. And yes, heroic battles with evil fantasy creatures aren't particularly noble or uplifting when you're actually living through them, and people get hurt and die, but pretty much every character in a secondary world fantasy in the last 80 years has noticed this, so it's hard to tell whether it's supposed to be parody or just genre expectations.
It seems as if The Magicians is meant to be a bit slipstreamy, it's meant to appeal to both litfic readers who think they're superior to all those fantasy-reading nerds, and to the fantasy-reading nerds themselves. It's only partially successful in this, mainly because it doesn't quite mesh the two aspects, and because it isn't really as clever as it thinks it is.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-13 07:52 pm (UTC)And ok, it's some consolation that Quentin does eventually grow up, but if he hasn't managed it over the first 500 pages and by his mid-20s, I don't know if I can be bothered to spend more time in his head! It's really hard to care about how miserable he is when he's so consistently unpleasant. Nussbaum's review that you linked to is harsh, but her criticisms are qualitatively the same as mine; , indeed.