Lev Grossman - The Magicians

Lev Grossman
2009, 402 pages

When I was in high school, I loved the Harry Potter books. I thought they were wonderfully imaginative and the world that J.K. Rowling built, especially Hogwart’s, seemed so well fleshed out and beautiful. As the books went on and I got older though, one thing started really bothering me. Harry Potter isn’t a good wizard. Neither is Ron. How is it that a trio containing two mediocre child magicians can take down the most powerful of the world’s adults? And please don’t say something like “Love” or “Bravery”, that’s overly simplistic. The more I read of the world that Rowling wrote, the more cartoony and caricaturish it seemed. The teachers could all be pulled from after school specials. The ancillary student characters, with a few notable exceptions, were all fairly one-note, and the ending of book seven seemed all wrong to me. And don’t even get me started on the epilogue. Ugh. I know that the book follows the basic hero’s journey and all that blah blah blah, but… the books haven’t stuck with me. I saw a couple of the movies, and have no interest to see any of the others.

Seeing as my last experience reading a fantasy book about life at a school for magic left me feeling unsatisfied, it was with some trepidation that I dove into Lev Grossman’s The Magicians. To me, it was a breath of fresh air. There were some tried and true fantasy novel tropes, but this magical world was firmly planted in a world more nuanced than what I’ve read before.

Our main character is an unsympathetic guy named Quentin. At eighteen years old, he gets sucked into Brakebills, America’s magical boarding school. By making the students older, the author is able to explore more adult themes earlier in the story. The years fly by, and Quentin and his friends don’t have to face down a terrible evil at the end of the year while at the same time studying for finals.

In The Magicians, magic is hard. It’s for the brainiacs, the select few who can obsessively practice an art form to the point of perfection. It’s for those few geniuses who have the ability to wield their austistic hyper-focus on making their fingers wiggle in exactly the correct pattern time after time. You don’t just pick up a wand and flick it around, and have awesome things happen. The main character in this book isn’t a hero, nor is he an anti-hero. It often seems like he is just going through the motions, and his life is being propelled by unseen forces. He’s a bit of a sad sack. Obsessed by a Narnia-esque children’s book, the world into which he is flung just doesn’t seem quite right for him. His circle of friends doesn’t seem to be friends only because they were flung together by random circumstance.

I appreciated that this book takes place over more than a decade. It gives a lot more opportunity for character growth, for people to fall in and out of love, for jobs to because dull and pointless. Quentin’s circle of friends all graduate from Brakebills, are flung into the real world, and flounder. One of them stumbles upon a magical artifact that allows them to travel to alternate universes, and they go to a Narnia-esque world with no real plans for what to do.

The Narnia adventure and final showdown didn’t grab hold of me quite as much as the rest of the book. It felt like the tone did a one hundred and eighty degree turn from where it was originally. It didn’t feel tacked on, but the adventure-story aspect of the time in Narnia didn’t sit as well for me. It wasn’t as fascinating as watching this sad sack of a character fight to find meaning in a world that doesn’t fit him quite right.

The Harry Potter books are excellent, but they aren’t really meant for adults. The Magicians is written for adults who loved the Narnia books and Harry Potter books, but who have been slapped around a bit by the real world. I’m looking forward to getting hold of a copy of the follow-up, but I’m concerned that it all might take place in Narnia.

 

In September I saw Pearl Jam three times. Twice in Toronto, and once in Hamilton. And my birthday was that week too. I went with the one and only Lemmers, who came down to the big city for the week. The first night, Neil Young came out on stage to play Keep on Rockin in the Free World for about an hour, which was awesome and wonderful and lovely. I also got super sick in between the second and third shows. I couldn’t talk at all, and I’m pretty sure I was fevery for the third show (I almost passed out at one point before the concert started) but I powered through, and I’m so glad I did, because Pearl Jam is lovely and wonderful and lovely.

All three concerts were significantly different. I believe they only played one of their songs at all three concerts (Lucky Man). The first night was very much a radio hits singalong night. The second night they played a lot of B-sides and rare songs, and the third night was a mix of the two. I finally heard them play Light Years, which has been a favourite of mine for a long, long time. We had great seats every night, and in Hamilton we had floor seats right at the front of the second block of seats, which meant we had tonnes of room and could see really well.

I forgot how much incredible music Pearl Jam’s made. I don’t tend to listen to a lot of straight-out rock any more because I’m old, have no street cred, and new music is so bad with the exception of Wilco. In the weeks since the concert, I’ve sifted through all of their albums again. There’s so much depth and so much musicality. With the 20th anniversary of Nirvana’s Nevermind, I also sifted through all my Foo Fighters (I’m not actually a Nirvana fan), and they’re also wonderful.

I feel so old that I’m all like, “Remember when music was good?” and all that. I felt old when I just wanted the opening act to be quieter but they were just so loud and uninteresting.

 

Okay, this time around I will read at least two of these three books. I will immediately start reading the first book voted on by anyone, and will read the second a little later when I finish the first. We’re going to do some Kurt Vonnegut this time around.


Cat’s Cradle


Player Piano


The Sirens Of Titan


Vote in the comments. Feel free to suggest any book ever, and if I feel like it, I’ll try and get a copy to read. I’ve got a couple of reviews ready to write – one for something incredible I just loved, one for something I couldn’t even finish. And I’m going to try and tell you about the fun stuff I did in September soon too. Vote vote vote!

 

I love it so much when you pick up a book and it just instantly resonates with the core of your being. When you simply can’t put the book down, and spend hours roaming inside a world drawn for you by a master craftsman, where each page brings new wonders of the universe before you into focus.

I like good books. They make me very happy.

 

To the writers of Downton Abbey,

First of all, LOVE your work. Downton Abbey is SO GOOD. I love it. I love that you always give Maggie Smith awesome things to say, and that your costumers have decided that she should look a bit like a bird. I love how mean everyone is to each other, especially O’Brien and Thomas, and I love how you make sure that Mary always messes everything up. The show is so pretty, and the first season was wonderful. I love that you picked that lady who played the British Prime Minister in Doctor Who to play against Maggie Smith. The sets are so beautiful, and I’m glad that the first episode of this newest season has lived up to what you did in the first season.

But.

If you do anything to mess up the relationship between Mr. Bates and Anna, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.

That being said, how awesomely evil is Vera Bates?

And I know we’re in WWI now, but please, please, please don’t kill off anyone. Please. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that. Anyways, the first episode of season 2? So good. Keep up the good work.

Yours truly,
Shannon

© 2011 Mostly Harmless Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha