2. The World's a Stage

The book:  Perchance to Dream (Théâtre Illuminata #2)
The author:  Lisa Mantchev
The rating:  3.5 stars

"We should have had a prologue," Peaseblossom fretted.  "Not all this nattering about pie."

It's been years since I read Eyes Like Stars, the first novel in this series, and Mantchev wasn't exactly obliging in recapping what I'd missed over the course of Perchance to Dream's first few chapters.  I could probably have done with a reread of that one before jumping into Perchance, but on such a tight schedule, who has the time?

It didn't take long for the important stuff to come back, and for me to remember the reasons why I found the original so charming.  The premise is fun and right up my alley:  a theatre that brings to life history's famous plays, and chock full of references to all the best works of the stage, replete with word-magic and a few dashes of gluttonous fairies.

I think that's the best part of Perchance to Dream:  the words and word-magic it invokes.  Sometimes it's silly, sometimes inspirational, but just like the playwrights she so frequently quotes, Mantchev truly has a way with words.  Some favourites:

"I'd prefer less death and more results."

The water and the wind will wear the wood down, until only water and wind remain.

Are you chasing a wandering star?  A dream?  A woman?  An idea?

"There should be more to love," said the earth, "than 'it did not kill me.'  More than 'I survived it.'"

While I loved the words and the world, I wasn't partial to the story.  I was never really invested in their quest to rescue Nate; it seemed to be just an irrelevant frame for Shakespearean quotes and witty banter.  Things happened, and I read about them.  I never felt there to be a deeper connection between myself and the world; it was just a plot, and they were just characters.

And characters they were.  Gosh, Bertie.  No, the solution to a love triangle isn't polygamy, or whatever it is you were trying to do with all your 'I love them both equally' rhetoric.  I had strong hopes for our heroine, but she never seemed to be making her own choices.  She was pushed and pulled through the narrative, her actions all due to the men in her life, be it Ariel and Nate (her love interests), her father, or even Aleksandr (the ringmaster of the Innamorati, a group of travelling circusfolk).  No matter how frequently she bemoaned what is mine and mine alone or stated fiercely I don't need anyone to save me, she was anything but a strong heroine.

Oh, and let's talk about the love interests.  Nate is fine enough, I guess; really, let's talk about Ariel.  He physically and mentally abuses Bertie; he forces her to marry him against her will; he is downright creepy, yet he is still presented as a viable love interest?  The positive light in which Ariel is presented makes me positively queasy.  You know who would make a good love interest?  Waschbär.  Sure, he wasn't dreamy like Ariel, but he's one of the few males in the cast who actually treat Bertie like a human being.

All in all, it was an enjoyable read, but the plot and cast are just window dressing for the real substance of the book:  witty quips, Disney-style comic relief sidekicks, and classic wish-gone-wrong word-magic.  'Serious' isn't Perchance's forte, but in humour and wit the novel really shines.

I'll definitely be coming back to read the trilogy's conclusion, So Silver Bright, but this series' virtues are best enjoyed in moderation.  Until then, if novels be the food of love, read on.