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And yet more of The Magician's Land
There is just SO MUCH in these books that I feel like I will never remember everything if I wait and post at the end. Even mentioning where I am in the book is quite spoilery now. No spoilers past this point, please!
I'm just through Rupert's section and the revelation about the spell creating a new world (which I actually did guess ahead of time; go me).
I love how this book is an ever-rotating orrery of stories within stories within stories: we have Quentin, Eliot, and Plum as major narrators, but also several nested stories: Janet and the axes, Rupert's journal. What really impresses me about this book is how the momentum never slows and the frequent narrator jumps haven't been throwing me like they did in the last book (which did this less deftly with just two narrators!). I think they're tied together much better in this book, with each narrator section leading naturally into the next rather than feeling like they're spliced together. It's like the last book was a rough run at what he's doing with incredible skill here.
I keep having to put this book down because there's just so much. It's been awhile since I read a book that was this dense, not necessarily with plot or language, but with things to think about; the worldbuilding and thematic stuff and relationship stuff and multiple interwoven past-present threads are a lot to take in, and it just keeps coming.
I think one thing that keeps getting to me is how good most of the protagonists are, even when they don't realize it. In particular, although there are plenty of dead people in these books, Our Heroes try really hard not to kill people, and I really appreciate that. The bit at the end of Janet's story when she mentions that she didn't kill the jerkass desert dude, as richly as he deserved it, and then Eliot hugs her slays me.
I am also really impressed with how Plum is integrated into the main cast even though we never saw her before this book. It makes me think of all the books I've read that introduced brand new late-in-series narrators in a resoundingly clunky way (Coldfire, I'm looking at you in particular!) and how this book doesn't do that, and the various factors that make Plum read like a major part of the cast rather than a last-minute intrusion.
All the many references to clocks and clockworks really intrigue me: the watch Eliot gives Quentin, Stoppard's clockwork magic, the clock trees. The Clock Barrens are great, such a perfect mix of clever and eerie and funny. (Jane Chatwin's line about how the dwarves like them because of the dwarf trees ...!)
The reveal on Betsy/Asmodeus was great, as was her casual brutality, which helped me notice how profoundly most of the main characters value life and try to avoid taking it.
I love that the characters' disillusionment about Fillory is not because it isn't wonderful and grand and lovely and resonant in magic and story, but because it is all of those things and also built on that cruel, bloody foundation that the myths and old gods have. Fillory isn't less; it's more. It's not that it's a shallow, cruel lie; it's that getting involved with Fillory means getting pulled into deep river currents moving beyond your comprehension, and it might raise you to something great, or utterly chew you up and spit you out.
I'm just through Rupert's section and the revelation about the spell creating a new world (which I actually did guess ahead of time; go me).
I love how this book is an ever-rotating orrery of stories within stories within stories: we have Quentin, Eliot, and Plum as major narrators, but also several nested stories: Janet and the axes, Rupert's journal. What really impresses me about this book is how the momentum never slows and the frequent narrator jumps haven't been throwing me like they did in the last book (which did this less deftly with just two narrators!). I think they're tied together much better in this book, with each narrator section leading naturally into the next rather than feeling like they're spliced together. It's like the last book was a rough run at what he's doing with incredible skill here.
I keep having to put this book down because there's just so much. It's been awhile since I read a book that was this dense, not necessarily with plot or language, but with things to think about; the worldbuilding and thematic stuff and relationship stuff and multiple interwoven past-present threads are a lot to take in, and it just keeps coming.
I think one thing that keeps getting to me is how good most of the protagonists are, even when they don't realize it. In particular, although there are plenty of dead people in these books, Our Heroes try really hard not to kill people, and I really appreciate that. The bit at the end of Janet's story when she mentions that she didn't kill the jerkass desert dude, as richly as he deserved it, and then Eliot hugs her slays me.
I am also really impressed with how Plum is integrated into the main cast even though we never saw her before this book. It makes me think of all the books I've read that introduced brand new late-in-series narrators in a resoundingly clunky way (Coldfire, I'm looking at you in particular!) and how this book doesn't do that, and the various factors that make Plum read like a major part of the cast rather than a last-minute intrusion.
All the many references to clocks and clockworks really intrigue me: the watch Eliot gives Quentin, Stoppard's clockwork magic, the clock trees. The Clock Barrens are great, such a perfect mix of clever and eerie and funny. (Jane Chatwin's line about how the dwarves like them because of the dwarf trees ...!)
The reveal on Betsy/Asmodeus was great, as was her casual brutality, which helped me notice how profoundly most of the main characters value life and try to avoid taking it.
I love that the characters' disillusionment about Fillory is not because it isn't wonderful and grand and lovely and resonant in magic and story, but because it is all of those things and also built on that cruel, bloody foundation that the myths and old gods have. Fillory isn't less; it's more. It's not that it's a shallow, cruel lie; it's that getting involved with Fillory means getting pulled into deep river currents moving beyond your comprehension, and it might raise you to something great, or utterly chew you up and spit you out.
no subject
AND, the actress who plays Janet (called Margo in the series) used the axes monologue to audition for the part, IIRC, and then they finally had her do a version of that storyline last season! In a musical episode. It was fabulous.
no subject
That is nice, and more complicated than even a lot of positive reviews of the series made it sound.