Lindsay
Good old Doli!
The last of the Prydain chronicles completes its tale as one would expect - with a final battle between enemies. As in any war, there is loss, even in victory.
SpoilerThose who survive - and not everyone does - get what they deserve (others, more or less); and those who are lost along the way do not die in vain. Each fallen comrade is acknowledged, even if their send-off is hasty, as time presses on, and pushes our Companions to the inevitable End.
QUIBBLES:
SpoilerThe one thing I disliked was that GLEW of all people was rewarded for his poor behaviour. I would have felt it more just to have left him in a cave of treasures by himself. Also, as I have mentioned in other reviews on this series, I feel that the story involving the Ladies of Morva is never truly resolved, as they don't make good on their promise to take from Taran that which he loves most.
FAVOURITE MOMENT:
SpoilerOne of the more heartwarming scenes is the one in which Fflewddur selflessly gives up his beloved harp(p. 232-3). A mainstay throughout the series, and a comedic tool as much as anything, Fflewddur's musical accompaniment was just one of a number of things that would not remain intact at the end of the tale.
FINAL THOUGHTS:
SpoilerThe ending is bittersweet; our Companions celebrate victory, even as they must say goodbye and make difficult choices. Our band of adventurers must part ways, making noble sacrifices (Eilonwy)and admirable decisions (Taran). It is fitting that as Taran bids farewell to many of his peers, the journey also ends for the reader. The High King is a lovely ending to the Prydain chronicles.
Despite the fact that Taran was irritating at times, with his “woe is me” attitude, I suppose it wouldn't have been a very good “coming of age” story without a little youthful stupidity.
SpoilerI have two quibbles with this book: One, I find it rather convenient that Morda's spells dissipate with his death. For all Taran knew, when Morda was slain, the spells might have remained in place forever. Two, I also take issue with the fact that the ladies of the Marshes of Morva never collect on their bargain with Taran - in this book or the next. (Sidebar: is there some significance of the similarity in names, “Morva” and “Morda”? I thought it odd.)
The redeeming factor of this book was the Craddoc storyline. SpoilerIt was truly Taran's comeuppance, and his turning point, I thought.
Ultimately, though, this was just a stepping stone to the final battle in the fifth and last book.
In my opinion, the weakest book of the quintet.
Prince Rhun makes his first appearance of the series (positive), as does Glew (negative). I thought Glew was annoying, and Spoilerreally, does he play any significant role in the series? Other than being a whiny, self-indulgent nuisance? thus, the fact that much of the story revolves around Glew's unfortunate predicament means that I found this title to be a lesser counterpart to the other four books in the series.
Furthermore, I thought the pace of the story fell off from the previous books, Spoilersave the final showdown between “our companions” and Magg, Achren & Co. and this further detracted from the tale. Of course, as this is one within the series, it is a necessary piece to the overall story of Prydain, and in this regard, as the middle book, it sets up the latter half of the adventure nicely.
Picking up where The Book of Three leaves off, The Black Cauldron is a tale that is on a torrid pace, compared to its predecessor.
Adaon (moral ideal) and Ellidyr (morally corrupt) serve as foils to each other, with Taran somewhere in the middle, and with the potential to become one or the other, depending on the choices he makes. Or, in psychology terms, Id, Ego, Superego, though not in that order.
Adaon's brooch adds an interesting aspect to the story. SpoilerWhile I was sad that Adaon died (and died willingly, at that), it allowed Taran the opportunity to bear the brooch - the wonders of dreaming a cryptic future, as well as the responsibility and burden of owning this knowledge.
SpoilerIn contrast, Ellidyr is a miserable, selfish character, and yet, his redemption is complete when he sacrifices himself in order to destroy the cauldron... but really, who did not see that coming?
I enjoy the nonsensical banter that we get upon entering the Marshes of Morva. It adds a lighthearted dimension to an otherwise serious tale of high stakes. It is somewhat refreshing that the witches are outside of time, and are less concerned with what these mortals are so consumed by - Orwen, Orddu, and Orgoch don't have a vested interest (or at least, they don't let on that they do) in the outcome of that which happens outside their Marsh, and yet, readers get the feeling that they have the potential to be a great ally to Taran and his Companions. Perhaps, in their own way they are.
In terms of adventure and excitement within the Chronicles of Prydain, I would say that The Black Cauldron is second only to that of The High King.
Alice, I Think falls victim to the hype that surrounds it... I was half-way through the novel wondering when I would get to the really funny part; then, I was three-quarters of the way through. For the record, it never came.
I spent the majority of the book shaking my head in despair and horror, asking myself, “Why?”
The funniest part of the book, is when dear Alice invites new “boyfriend” Aubrey to town... to stay... in her home... without telling her parents... after knowing him for mere minutes... because obviously that's the natural thing to do. For me, his whole visit is the highlight of the novel, but unlike Aubrey, who gets to make an early exit, the readers trudge on to witness Alice's other faux pas.
Alice is socially awkward, naive, and oblivious - a winning combination for disaster. For the duration of the novel, I am aghast at the decisions Alice makes; a lot of the time I feel sympathy for her parents (but then again, they also let her go to school in a hobbit costume - which is both admirable and a sign of things to come). As for Alice, I really wanted to shake some common sense into her. At least the Real Life Alice that I know has a sense of humour and is aware of her social ineptitude. Juby's Alice is just misunderstood and as much as I genuinely tried to love Alice, as in real life, “Alice” is someone whom I tolerate not someone whom I understand in the least.
There has been a lot of criticism of this book, and the fact that it is penned by a Western male author. Whether Golden's interpretation of geisha life in early 1900s Japan is accurate, I cannot say; but, he certainly had me convinced that these were real memories recalled in the voice of Chiyo/Sayuri.
The first few chapters were very sad, in a heavy, despairing sort of way; towards the end of the book, the sadness evolved into a bitter, regretful sorrow. The overall feel of this tale was romantic and remorseful, highlighted by many beautiful metaphors.
I have no doubt that much of Golden's writing is, as he says, the result of many hours of research, however, I am still interested to read an “insider's” view of the geisha lifestyle. Mineko Iwasaki, who it has been alleged, is the basis of Golden's novel, has written her autobiography which disputes many “facts” that Golden included; her book is published as “Geisha, a Life” (US title) or “Geisha of Gion” (UK title).
I is love this book.
Roald Dahl's clever tale is written in a winning combination of “langwitches”: common English and giant-speak. The frequency of nonsensical words only elevates the level of amusement, and the entertainingly expressive nature of the BFG makes this a choice book to read aloud. “The BFG” is better than “The Twits” and a wonderful introduction to Dahl's artful storytelling.
This was probably the book/series that made me a huge fan of adventure and fantasy novels today; a great book from my youth, that when revisited some 15-20 years later did not have the same excitement. In this first book of Taran's adventure, I felt that the meagre 185 pages of story would have served as a mere prologue in other tales. Still, a must-read for those who can appreciate adventure/fantasy written for our younger selves.
Koontz tries to do his best Stephen King imitation in Strangers, but falls short.
Whereas King weaves his supernatural elements into the very core of the book, in Strangers it feels more like a cop-out.
The first part of the book is intriguing... repressed memories, night terrors, an unknown event that links all of the main characters together.
Then Koontz loses me: A government cover-up? UFOs? Really!?
Whose idea was it to tack-on this bad-idea-of-an-ending to what was a promising beginning? What started out with so much potential fizzles quickly. As a reader, I felt cheated. I went through all of that... for aliens!?
I chose to read this book between semesters - my one leisure read for months, so needless to say, I was severely disappointed: “No, no, no... please take this book back and return it to me with a proper ending.”
I applaud the person who read this book and thought it would be a great movie - it is... a FANTASTIC cinematic experience. But the book is beyond horrible. To take the bland drivel of Nicholas Sparks, see some potential in it, and create a romantic tearjerker that has received many an accolade is, quite plainly, impressive.
Had I read the book first, I likely would have passed on the Ryan Gosling-Rachel McAdams love story, which would have been a shame.
This is one of those rare times where you should skip the book altogether, and see the film instead.
In the first 23% of this book, there are a lot of words but only one beautiful, memorable sentence. It's like Harrow thinks she's getting paid by the word; so little has happened to this point. The plot is slow and obscure. I know nothing about these characters. Moving on.
'90s slang was cringe-inducing in the '90s, much less today.
I just can't bring myself to read 165 pages of it.
I have the same “problem” with The Stand that I do with LOST (I love both, so take this with a grain of salt) - I want a stripped down story without the supernatural elements.
Some narratives need a gigantic serving of the paranormal to keep the plot moving forward; but, I think King has become accustomed to using it as a crutch for his writing, when he doesn't always need it (or else, it's his “thing” - which I guess is his prerogative).
It boils down to the fact that I feel that the characters are so well-formed and have such a rich history, that this could have been enough for a more grounded adventure. I want to know what really happens if the world is largely wiped out by a virus, leaving only a handful of survivors behind. King offers answers only in the context of the “Big Bad” who exists outside of the natural laws of the earth and thus is contained only by King's imagination. (Similarly, I want to know what really happens if a plane crashes on a deserted island a-la-LOST - do we really need to add polar bears and smoke monsters to the mix?).
I think that either tale could have been equally as riveting without the added ambiguity of “the unknown” - but it is what it is, and both are enjoyable nonetheless. AND, of course, we can't ignore that this is Stephen King who has penned many a novel in which supernatural entities are to be expected and even welcomed. Ultimately, it's King's story, and it's a good one.
The made-for-TV adaptation of The Stand is also worth seeing... as are all six (6) seasons of LOST
Yawn
Lois Duncas has written some pretty good fiction in her time; A Gift of Magic was not one of them.
Whereas your typical book as some ups and downs, this book just flatlines right out of the gate.
In summary: boring and pointless.