The book: Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms #1)
The author: Morgan Rhodes
The rating: 4.5 stars
When it comes down to it, there seems to be two main ways authors may write a series. Seemingly the most popular is the "And then..." approach, employed by such trilogies and sagas as The Hunger Games, Divergent, Legend... heck, even Twilight. In this type of series, the story is incredibly segmented, always open-ended and with a hook to keep readers tuning in for the next installment, but with clearly defined and separate plotlines for each entry, and increasing in scope with each passing novel. The Hunger Games is a perfect example: book one is a regular ol' Hunger Games; book two is a super special Hunger Games; book three is a massive revolution. It's very formulaic... first something big happens, and then this bigger thing happens, and then something even bigger. The other type of series is the "Part 1 of X" variety; instead of a set of matryoshka plots, the series tells one overarching story, with twists and turns, new developments and shifting priorities, but it's all one coherent plot nonetheless, broken up over a number of tomes to prevent a War and Peace situation from happening.
In Falling Kingdoms, Rhodes employs the latter, and it's this decision that is responsible for some of both the strengths and weaknesses of the novel. While an "And then..." series delivers immediate gratification at the end of book one, series like Falling Kingdoms play the long game, sacrificing a neatly-wrapped book one conclusion for a gripping, suspenseful setup with the power and pace of a runaway train. Falling Kingdoms spends much of its time planting and cultivating seeds, the benefits of which the reader does not fully reap by the time the final page is turned, but which set the stage for what has the potential to be an immensely more satisfying sequel than an "And then..." series opener would likely have. On the other hand, while Falling Kingdoms hints at lucrative future dividends for its readers' investment, it reads a lot like a prequel, merely priming the pump for the main event.
That's not to say that the novel is lacking in the action department. On the contrary, Rhodes creates a superb pacing, a crescendo of sorts as the reader is eased into the richly-backgrounded kingdoms of Mytica through three differing perspectives (technically four, although insofar as the plot is concerned, Lucia and Magnus are essentially just two characters within the same POV), building up to an exhilarating battle much akin to those of Tolkien or Lewis. These contrasting perspectives are very reminiscent of the similarly-named Fall of a Kingdom novel by Hilari Bell, one of my personal fantasy favourites, and so the resulting effect is definitely a treat. Reading about a character from another character's perspective is, for some reason, so deeply satisfying (particularly when that perspective is unflattering); perhaps this is due to the general appeal of dramatic irony, or perhaps it is because it allows for a more profound characterization. I've written before on the problematic subject of YA and children's authors tending to equate protagonists with heroes, and that provides another rationale for the appeal of stories told from perspectives of characters who aren't on the same side. Through these multifaceted perspectives, we are given insight into not just the character's rationalizations of their actions, but also into their flaws and failings. 'Good' versus 'bad' isn't necessarily so clear cut; 'protagonist' and 'antagonist' do not equal 'hero' and 'bad guy' as the antagonist from one perspective is the protagonist of another. Coupled with the fact that, despite the swords and magic, the societies of the titular falling kingdoms are uncomfortably reminiscent of those of the real-world, and these perspectives encourage the reader to explore certain issues from an angle different from that with which they'd be accustomed. While by the end of the novel the reader will clearly side morally with certain characters moreso than others, Falling Kingdoms accomplishes the admirable feat of not characterizing a conflict in black and white, but in shades of grey.
Falling Kingdoms (or more accurately, the novel's publicists) stylizes itself as "Game of Thrones for teens." I'm typically quite hesitant about this kind of reader-bait; whatever is popular at the moment always gets name-dropped on the blurbs of books - 'it's the most gripping book since X'... 'fans of Y will absolutely love'... The Selection comes to mind, stylized as "The Hunger Games meets The Bachelor." However, this is one monicker I can back 100%. Falling Kingdoms has got incest. It's got merciless character deaths. It's got action and intrigue and a world that you'd love to visit, but you sure as hell would not want to live there. It's not Game of Thrones, but any fan of that series, teen or not, could do a lot worse than immerse themselves in Rhodes' thrilling world to get their next fantasy fix. My summer reading stack is still towering on my night stand, but I can't help but slip in Rebel Spring, the second book in the series, somewhere near the top of the pile.
Tuesday 27 May 2014
Sunday 25 May 2014
18. Fire and Ice
The book: Frozen (Heart of Dread #1)
The author: Melissa de la Cruz & Michael Johnston
The rating: 4 stars
It's been a while since my last review, and IB exams have been to blame. In any case, I am now a high school graduate, and I've got a lengthy summer reading list to help get me back on track for my 100-book goal. Now, without further ado, Frozen (no relation to the Disney musical):
Frozen and I didn't start off on the best foot. I found it difficult to immerse myself in the authors' prose... sentences were uniform and choppy, and action seemed to begin and end so rapidly that there was no time to build up suspense. This might seem to be an odd criticism to levy against a book, but it truly felt as if I was only reading about events; they weren't actually occurring. A good novel needs immersion, needs to pull its reader out of the real world and into theirs, and for a good while, Frozen failed to deliver. While that aspect did improve over the course of the novel, problems with pacing continued to plague Frozen from cover to cover.
Betrayals, character deaths (and resurrections), various tribulations and crises... none lasted long enough for me to truly become emotionally invested. When an important character dies, for example, my default position is a solid belief that they're not really dead. Give it a couple chapters, though, and I'll begin to doubt... maybe the author did kill off little Susie Soandso for real. For a twist to work, the author needs to instill that doubt, or else the fake-out death will have no impact on the reader; he or she never had the chance to become invested in the implications of the death. That's where Frozen's pacing really acts as a drag: each crisis is resolved, each emotional trauma assuaged before it can truly impact the reader, and a tale will often veer into the realm of bland when it is unable to pull on the reader's heartstrings.
However, Frozen did have some saving graces. For one, it's not your classic YA dystopian cookie-cutter. In fact, it is an incredibly unique fusion of different genres. It bridges science fiction and fantasy in a way that Whispers in Autumn tried and failed, it has the military charm, intrigue, and romance of the Legend trilogy (without that series' over-the-top thematic statements), it's full of the swashbuckling, sea-faring escapades of Pirates of the Caribbean along with a hearty helping of Graceling-style adventure and fantasy. Fans of Graceling (a 2008 novel by Kristin Cashore) will actually find a great number of similarities: individuals who are gifted with magic have strangely-coloured eyes, they're societal pariahs, our heroine has a murderous gift that makes her a monster... while these similarities may serve to undermine my claims of Frozen's uniqueness, these elements are just one small part of a wonderful genre mismatch that creates a surprisingly complementary, well-seasoned dish.
The result of these genres are the setting and the adventure, the two respects in which Frozen truly shines. The tale takes place in a fantastical, futuristic Las Vegas, redefined after a frozen apocalypse and full of magic à la urban fantasy. This fusion of old and new creates a setting that is at once familiar and rife for exploration, something that is extremely significant to story that, at its essence, follows a traditional quest plot structure. New Vegas, Garbage Country, the deadly, trash-filled Pacific... each segment of the journey is vividly imagined and subtly insightful, creating an unspoken commentary on present-day consumer culture with a finesse that would seemingly go over the head of Legend writer Marie Lu. Despite its fantastical elements, Frozen's future is an undeniable reflection of the present day, and the way in which the authors integrate this vision into their story is admirable.
As previously mentioned, the adventure itself is a classic quest, and there's something so readable about this type of storyline. Unlike many of its YA fellows, Frozen's plot does not get bogged down by teenage angst or love triangles. Admittedly, Nat is a fairly angsty protagonist, but her fears of being a monster are fairly substantiated, and the romance between her and Wes is rather tolerable. Significantly, the romance runs congruently with getting our heroes to their destination, not oppositely, and therefore instead of dragging on the plot, their 'will they/won't they' serves to push the action along.
All in all, Frozen is a solid, immensely-readable tale, even if the writing itself sometimes gets in the way of the story. (As a side note, a special mention must be made to the novel's epigraphs, all of which were particularly well-chosen.) I'll definitely be giving the novel's sequel, Stolen, a look once it comes out later this year, but for now I'll keep my expectations for the rest of the series as a blank slate.
The author: Melissa de la Cruz & Michael Johnston
The rating: 4 stars
It's been a while since my last review, and IB exams have been to blame. In any case, I am now a high school graduate, and I've got a lengthy summer reading list to help get me back on track for my 100-book goal. Now, without further ado, Frozen (no relation to the Disney musical):
Frozen and I didn't start off on the best foot. I found it difficult to immerse myself in the authors' prose... sentences were uniform and choppy, and action seemed to begin and end so rapidly that there was no time to build up suspense. This might seem to be an odd criticism to levy against a book, but it truly felt as if I was only reading about events; they weren't actually occurring. A good novel needs immersion, needs to pull its reader out of the real world and into theirs, and for a good while, Frozen failed to deliver. While that aspect did improve over the course of the novel, problems with pacing continued to plague Frozen from cover to cover.
Betrayals, character deaths (and resurrections), various tribulations and crises... none lasted long enough for me to truly become emotionally invested. When an important character dies, for example, my default position is a solid belief that they're not really dead. Give it a couple chapters, though, and I'll begin to doubt... maybe the author did kill off little Susie Soandso for real. For a twist to work, the author needs to instill that doubt, or else the fake-out death will have no impact on the reader; he or she never had the chance to become invested in the implications of the death. That's where Frozen's pacing really acts as a drag: each crisis is resolved, each emotional trauma assuaged before it can truly impact the reader, and a tale will often veer into the realm of bland when it is unable to pull on the reader's heartstrings.
However, Frozen did have some saving graces. For one, it's not your classic YA dystopian cookie-cutter. In fact, it is an incredibly unique fusion of different genres. It bridges science fiction and fantasy in a way that Whispers in Autumn tried and failed, it has the military charm, intrigue, and romance of the Legend trilogy (without that series' over-the-top thematic statements), it's full of the swashbuckling, sea-faring escapades of Pirates of the Caribbean along with a hearty helping of Graceling-style adventure and fantasy. Fans of Graceling (a 2008 novel by Kristin Cashore) will actually find a great number of similarities: individuals who are gifted with magic have strangely-coloured eyes, they're societal pariahs, our heroine has a murderous gift that makes her a monster... while these similarities may serve to undermine my claims of Frozen's uniqueness, these elements are just one small part of a wonderful genre mismatch that creates a surprisingly complementary, well-seasoned dish.
The result of these genres are the setting and the adventure, the two respects in which Frozen truly shines. The tale takes place in a fantastical, futuristic Las Vegas, redefined after a frozen apocalypse and full of magic à la urban fantasy. This fusion of old and new creates a setting that is at once familiar and rife for exploration, something that is extremely significant to story that, at its essence, follows a traditional quest plot structure. New Vegas, Garbage Country, the deadly, trash-filled Pacific... each segment of the journey is vividly imagined and subtly insightful, creating an unspoken commentary on present-day consumer culture with a finesse that would seemingly go over the head of Legend writer Marie Lu. Despite its fantastical elements, Frozen's future is an undeniable reflection of the present day, and the way in which the authors integrate this vision into their story is admirable.
As previously mentioned, the adventure itself is a classic quest, and there's something so readable about this type of storyline. Unlike many of its YA fellows, Frozen's plot does not get bogged down by teenage angst or love triangles. Admittedly, Nat is a fairly angsty protagonist, but her fears of being a monster are fairly substantiated, and the romance between her and Wes is rather tolerable. Significantly, the romance runs congruently with getting our heroes to their destination, not oppositely, and therefore instead of dragging on the plot, their 'will they/won't they' serves to push the action along.
All in all, Frozen is a solid, immensely-readable tale, even if the writing itself sometimes gets in the way of the story. (As a side note, a special mention must be made to the novel's epigraphs, all of which were particularly well-chosen.) I'll definitely be giving the novel's sequel, Stolen, a look once it comes out later this year, but for now I'll keep my expectations for the rest of the series as a blank slate.
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