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.
Showing posts with label questing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label questing. Show all posts
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Saturday, 8 March 2014
10. Crescendo
The book: Cress (The Lunar Chronicles #3)
The author: Marissa Meyer
The rating: 5 stars
Sometimes, I feel as if reading has lost its luster for me. Every book I read is pretty okay, but none are as amazing as the ones I've read in the past, and I wonder if it's not the books that are changed, but me. Then I read a book like Cress, and my faith in literature is restored. Books haven't changed--I just haven't been reading the right books--and Cress is most definitely one of the greats.
Rave reviews tend to be a bit dull, so I'll try to keep my praise brief. Cress ties POV to pacing in a unique and effective way, with not one, not two, but with at least eight alternating perspectives. It's not a big cycle, though--Cinder, Kai, Cress, Cinder, Kai, Cress, Cinder--or anything like that. The reader never knows from whose perspective the next chapter will come, and this keeps the reader engaged and enthralled. I'm particularly partial to ensemble casts, and Cress embraced this concept with bells on. Each novel in the Lunar Chronicles series adds a few protagonists to their growing roster, but still keeps our heroes from the books of yore. This results in a diverse cast that never overwhelms the reader. It's like that picnic game that elementary school kids like to play: the first person is bringing an aardvark, the second is bringing an aardvark and a banana, the third is bringing an aardvark, a banana, and a crystal ball... while you're unlikely to be able to remember a list of 26 items from the get-go, after going through the entire game, you will probably still be able to recite the list days later. We became well acquainted with Cinder, Kai, and Iko in Cinder, as well as a slew of supporting characters, and then with Scarlet and Wolf in Scarlet, and Cress raises Thorne, Cress, and Dr. Erland to prominence. I've never read A Game of Thrones, but it's kind of how I imagine the A Song of Ice and Fire series to be (except without copious amounts of death).
My other literary weakness is retellings; I adore them. I feel that it can create an even richer world, drawing on the reader's knowledge of the source material, and playing off it or subverting it in a new environment. Each novel in the Lunar Chronicles is a sci-fi retelling of a classic fairy tale, and Cress, as you might have guessed by the title, is based loosely upon the story of Rapunzel (if you're like my dad and don't understand the connection, cress and rapunzel are both types of leafy greens). I'll admit, each time I caught a parallel between Cress and Rapunzel I felt a bit proud of myself (and I couldn't resist comparing Thorne to Tangled's Flynn Ryder). Cress struck a great balance between old and new, never dwelling too much in Rapunzel or too little to make the premise pointless.
The setting was also phenomenal. Meyer's worldbuilding is among the best in the business, and I'd love to spend a day wandering her future Earth with its cyborgs and androids, cultures and countries, even with Luna shining up above. The Eastern Commonwealth is a delightful smorgasbord of culture, although it's arguably less prominent in Cress than it was in early installments, as Cinder and her gang are now on the run. I'd say the most standout setting is the Sahara and the African cities, with their mix of old and new technologies and their intermingling of Lunar and Earthen traditions. The world is so incredibly engrossing; the only shadow on the horizon as I read Cress was that the trilogy would soon be over, and I'd be forced out of Meyer's remarkable world forever.
Over the entire time it took me to read Cress, I was positive it was the series finale. I'm not sure why I had it in my head that the series was a trilogy, perhaps just because so many are, but I had no doubt in my mind that this would be the end of the line for Cinder and the gang. When I was at 91% complete, I was getting a bit miffed; after all this, the conclusion's going to be a disappointment; there's no way Meyer can wrap all this up in the last 9%. And then the reader gets their first glimpse of Princess Winter, and I think: Hey, it's Snow White! Too bad she's not going to get her own book, and really, what is Meyer doing introducing new characters so late in the game? We're not going to get the chance to get to know them.
And then I turned the last page, and my paradigm shifted in the best of ways. Cress wasn't the end--it was just the crescendo--and I absolutely cannot wait to see what Meyer has in store in Winter, what might be the last book in the series? Maybe? I guess we'll see in February 2015.
The author: Marissa Meyer
The rating: 5 stars
Sometimes, I feel as if reading has lost its luster for me. Every book I read is pretty okay, but none are as amazing as the ones I've read in the past, and I wonder if it's not the books that are changed, but me. Then I read a book like Cress, and my faith in literature is restored. Books haven't changed--I just haven't been reading the right books--and Cress is most definitely one of the greats.
Rave reviews tend to be a bit dull, so I'll try to keep my praise brief. Cress ties POV to pacing in a unique and effective way, with not one, not two, but with at least eight alternating perspectives. It's not a big cycle, though--Cinder, Kai, Cress, Cinder, Kai, Cress, Cinder--or anything like that. The reader never knows from whose perspective the next chapter will come, and this keeps the reader engaged and enthralled. I'm particularly partial to ensemble casts, and Cress embraced this concept with bells on. Each novel in the Lunar Chronicles series adds a few protagonists to their growing roster, but still keeps our heroes from the books of yore. This results in a diverse cast that never overwhelms the reader. It's like that picnic game that elementary school kids like to play: the first person is bringing an aardvark, the second is bringing an aardvark and a banana, the third is bringing an aardvark, a banana, and a crystal ball... while you're unlikely to be able to remember a list of 26 items from the get-go, after going through the entire game, you will probably still be able to recite the list days later. We became well acquainted with Cinder, Kai, and Iko in Cinder, as well as a slew of supporting characters, and then with Scarlet and Wolf in Scarlet, and Cress raises Thorne, Cress, and Dr. Erland to prominence. I've never read A Game of Thrones, but it's kind of how I imagine the A Song of Ice and Fire series to be (except without copious amounts of death).
My other literary weakness is retellings; I adore them. I feel that it can create an even richer world, drawing on the reader's knowledge of the source material, and playing off it or subverting it in a new environment. Each novel in the Lunar Chronicles is a sci-fi retelling of a classic fairy tale, and Cress, as you might have guessed by the title, is based loosely upon the story of Rapunzel (if you're like my dad and don't understand the connection, cress and rapunzel are both types of leafy greens). I'll admit, each time I caught a parallel between Cress and Rapunzel I felt a bit proud of myself (and I couldn't resist comparing Thorne to Tangled's Flynn Ryder). Cress struck a great balance between old and new, never dwelling too much in Rapunzel or too little to make the premise pointless.
The setting was also phenomenal. Meyer's worldbuilding is among the best in the business, and I'd love to spend a day wandering her future Earth with its cyborgs and androids, cultures and countries, even with Luna shining up above. The Eastern Commonwealth is a delightful smorgasbord of culture, although it's arguably less prominent in Cress than it was in early installments, as Cinder and her gang are now on the run. I'd say the most standout setting is the Sahara and the African cities, with their mix of old and new technologies and their intermingling of Lunar and Earthen traditions. The world is so incredibly engrossing; the only shadow on the horizon as I read Cress was that the trilogy would soon be over, and I'd be forced out of Meyer's remarkable world forever.
Over the entire time it took me to read Cress, I was positive it was the series finale. I'm not sure why I had it in my head that the series was a trilogy, perhaps just because so many are, but I had no doubt in my mind that this would be the end of the line for Cinder and the gang. When I was at 91% complete, I was getting a bit miffed; after all this, the conclusion's going to be a disappointment; there's no way Meyer can wrap all this up in the last 9%. And then the reader gets their first glimpse of Princess Winter, and I think: Hey, it's Snow White! Too bad she's not going to get her own book, and really, what is Meyer doing introducing new characters so late in the game? We're not going to get the chance to get to know them.
And then I turned the last page, and my paradigm shifted in the best of ways. Cress wasn't the end--it was just the crescendo--and I absolutely cannot wait to see what Meyer has in store in Winter, what might be the last book in the series? Maybe? I guess we'll see in February 2015.
Monday, 3 February 2014
6. Heart and Soul
The book: Infinite (Newsoul #3)
The author: Jodi Meadows
The rating: 4 stars
Infinite marks the conclusion to the Newsoul trilogy, bringing the adventures of Ana and Sam that began in Incarnate and Asunder to a perhaps rocky conclusion, but we'll get to that later. I don't typically spend much of my reviews going over plot summary (that's why they put a blurb on the back, isn't it?) but considering that Infinite is a series conclusion, it seems wise to make an exception to that rule.
The land of Range is plagued by all sorts of mythical beasts: dragons roam the north, spewing acid and wreaking havoc; sylphs dance in the shadows, their lightest touch a burn; rocs dive from the skies; centaurs roam the forests; trolls lumber along ragged paths; phoenixes reincarnate, shedding their past selves in rebirth. And in this wild, mystical land, there is a glistening, white-stone city of a million human souls: Heart. For five millennia, the people of Heart have reincarnated like phoenixes; when they die, their souls are soon born again and they continue their lives' adventures. Sometimes they're tall, sometimes short, sometimes dark, sometimes fair, sometimes female, sometimes male, but there's always another life. Everything is constant. That is, until Ana. The citizens of Heart had been expecting Ciana's rebirth, but instead of their old friend, their soul scanners fail to find a match. The baby is a newsoul, or, as many call her, a nosoul.
Throughout Incarnate and Asunder, we follow the newsoul, Ana, in her coming-of-age story, unraveling the mysteries that led to her birth. She is hated by many, considered a precursor to more nosouls replacing oldsouls; fear of ending up like Ciana leads Ana to be shunned by society, raised by Li, an abusive, vitriolic mother in the countryside surrounding Range, banned from ever entering the glistening city of Heart. At the beginning of Incarnate, Li gives Ana a faulty compass and sends her off on her quest to find her way in the world, hoping she'll become hopelessly lost and die. However, after a run-in with wild sylph that ends with Ana almost drowning in a lake, she is rescued by a boy named Sam, someone who, over the course of the series, manages to convince Ana that she is not a nosoul, but a newsoul.
Two paragraphs of plot summary already, and I don't think I'm even out of chapter four of the first novel... see, there's a reason why I don't do this often. Throughout the series, Ana struggles to find answers to the mystery surrounding her birth - why was she born instead of Ciana? Will she reincarnate? As her mystery begins to unravel, we discover that reincarnation is caused by a being called Janan, someone who many consider to be a god, but who actually is tied to the truth of what really happened five millennia ago. I don't want to get too into the overall plot so as not to spoil the series; truly, the premise is the most delightful part, and I would hate to ruin it for a prospective reader.
Now, onto my views of Infinite. As I mentioned, the premise of this series is one of my all-time favourites. The writing can be a bit threadbare at times, but Meadows' unique and well-executed concept more than compensates; the world of Range is terrifying, magical... filled with echoes of ideas all dreamers must have dreamed about. I know they're thoughts I've had before, at least. Would it be ethical to be immortal, seeing as immortality would only be practical if nobody else could be born? It's this type of lofty question that Infinite addresses, but in nowhere near the clunky way with which novels like Prodigy handle their themes. Meadows takes an intriguing question and builds a remarkable, breathtaking world around it; her message is intrinsically tied to the horrible splendour of her world, never tacked on. Furthermore, her view is never forced down the reader's throat; both the bad and the good are explored, as are the bad and good in human nature, ultimately leaving the reader to decide their own verdict. There are some potential readings of the work that might suggest Meadows is making a more forceful societal commentary... some choice lines in particular might allude to the novel taking a stance on the abortion debate, but the door of ambiguity is left open for the reader to interpret the author's true intentions.
Adding to the wonderful world and plot is the mystery with which the tale is imbued. The reader is unraveling the terrible secrets of the ancient past along with Ana and her oldsoul friends, and that mystique definitely keeps the pacing steady and the reader engaged. The romance is a little less enthralling... Ana and Sam make a wonderful, musical couple, but when the pacing falters, it's the romantic side of Infinite that is usually to blame.
I did promise to get back to my comment about the trilogy's rocky conclusion, and I suppose I'm running out of time to do so. I immensely enjoyed the first 70% or so of Infinite, but by the time our supporting characters start dropping like flies and we reach what is supposedly the climax, Infinite seems to stumble a bit, losing its polished, pensive sheen. Obviously everything can't go according to plan (since when in fiction has the big plan ever gone off without a hitch?) but the last minute mood shift screamed Deus Ex Machina, coupled with a second twist I think it's safe to say every reader would have seen coming (as soon as we're told Deborl has sent warriors away to find something, there was only one thing it could have been). The end of the end perked back up, though... hopefully it's not too much of a spoiler to say that amongst all the Pyrrhic victories in fiction today, it's nice to get a truly happy ending.
The author: Jodi Meadows
The rating: 4 stars
Infinite marks the conclusion to the Newsoul trilogy, bringing the adventures of Ana and Sam that began in Incarnate and Asunder to a perhaps rocky conclusion, but we'll get to that later. I don't typically spend much of my reviews going over plot summary (that's why they put a blurb on the back, isn't it?) but considering that Infinite is a series conclusion, it seems wise to make an exception to that rule.
The land of Range is plagued by all sorts of mythical beasts: dragons roam the north, spewing acid and wreaking havoc; sylphs dance in the shadows, their lightest touch a burn; rocs dive from the skies; centaurs roam the forests; trolls lumber along ragged paths; phoenixes reincarnate, shedding their past selves in rebirth. And in this wild, mystical land, there is a glistening, white-stone city of a million human souls: Heart. For five millennia, the people of Heart have reincarnated like phoenixes; when they die, their souls are soon born again and they continue their lives' adventures. Sometimes they're tall, sometimes short, sometimes dark, sometimes fair, sometimes female, sometimes male, but there's always another life. Everything is constant. That is, until Ana. The citizens of Heart had been expecting Ciana's rebirth, but instead of their old friend, their soul scanners fail to find a match. The baby is a newsoul, or, as many call her, a nosoul.
Throughout Incarnate and Asunder, we follow the newsoul, Ana, in her coming-of-age story, unraveling the mysteries that led to her birth. She is hated by many, considered a precursor to more nosouls replacing oldsouls; fear of ending up like Ciana leads Ana to be shunned by society, raised by Li, an abusive, vitriolic mother in the countryside surrounding Range, banned from ever entering the glistening city of Heart. At the beginning of Incarnate, Li gives Ana a faulty compass and sends her off on her quest to find her way in the world, hoping she'll become hopelessly lost and die. However, after a run-in with wild sylph that ends with Ana almost drowning in a lake, she is rescued by a boy named Sam, someone who, over the course of the series, manages to convince Ana that she is not a nosoul, but a newsoul.
Two paragraphs of plot summary already, and I don't think I'm even out of chapter four of the first novel... see, there's a reason why I don't do this often. Throughout the series, Ana struggles to find answers to the mystery surrounding her birth - why was she born instead of Ciana? Will she reincarnate? As her mystery begins to unravel, we discover that reincarnation is caused by a being called Janan, someone who many consider to be a god, but who actually is tied to the truth of what really happened five millennia ago. I don't want to get too into the overall plot so as not to spoil the series; truly, the premise is the most delightful part, and I would hate to ruin it for a prospective reader.
Now, onto my views of Infinite. As I mentioned, the premise of this series is one of my all-time favourites. The writing can be a bit threadbare at times, but Meadows' unique and well-executed concept more than compensates; the world of Range is terrifying, magical... filled with echoes of ideas all dreamers must have dreamed about. I know they're thoughts I've had before, at least. Would it be ethical to be immortal, seeing as immortality would only be practical if nobody else could be born? It's this type of lofty question that Infinite addresses, but in nowhere near the clunky way with which novels like Prodigy handle their themes. Meadows takes an intriguing question and builds a remarkable, breathtaking world around it; her message is intrinsically tied to the horrible splendour of her world, never tacked on. Furthermore, her view is never forced down the reader's throat; both the bad and the good are explored, as are the bad and good in human nature, ultimately leaving the reader to decide their own verdict. There are some potential readings of the work that might suggest Meadows is making a more forceful societal commentary... some choice lines in particular might allude to the novel taking a stance on the abortion debate, but the door of ambiguity is left open for the reader to interpret the author's true intentions.
Adding to the wonderful world and plot is the mystery with which the tale is imbued. The reader is unraveling the terrible secrets of the ancient past along with Ana and her oldsoul friends, and that mystique definitely keeps the pacing steady and the reader engaged. The romance is a little less enthralling... Ana and Sam make a wonderful, musical couple, but when the pacing falters, it's the romantic side of Infinite that is usually to blame.
I did promise to get back to my comment about the trilogy's rocky conclusion, and I suppose I'm running out of time to do so. I immensely enjoyed the first 70% or so of Infinite, but by the time our supporting characters start dropping like flies and we reach what is supposedly the climax, Infinite seems to stumble a bit, losing its polished, pensive sheen. Obviously everything can't go according to plan (since when in fiction has the big plan ever gone off without a hitch?) but the last minute mood shift screamed Deus Ex Machina, coupled with a second twist I think it's safe to say every reader would have seen coming (as soon as we're told Deborl has sent warriors away to find something, there was only one thing it could have been). The end of the end perked back up, though... hopefully it's not too much of a spoiler to say that amongst all the Pyrrhic victories in fiction today, it's nice to get a truly happy ending.
Monday, 13 January 2014
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.
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.
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