Librarian at Large--Fantasy Reviews

10:43pm: Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett
In a weird twist of fate, I (the innocent reader) picked up this Discworld novel soon after reading Lackey’s Fairy Godmother--and found it to be a twist on similar ideas. Witches Abroad was published first (copyright 1991, compared to Lackey’s 2004), and neither is in any way a copy of the other. Think retelling, reimagining, perhaps even another form of The Tradition...

But here we have a dead Fairy Godmother, who leaves three witches to rectify a story gone bad. On the way, they encounter all sorts of odd effects from an evil godmother intent on making stories come true--including (my absolute favorite) a house that drops unexpectedly on the reinforced hat of Nanny Ogg, whereupon a crowd of dwarves appear with a strange urge to take her red boots. In the immortal words of Granny Weatherwax, “It ain’t often people get a feeling they ought to go around pulling a decent witch’s boots off.”

Of course, this being Terry Pratchett, things get much, much odder, and there will be strange incidents involving pumpkins, zombies, card sharks, and even gumbo before the tale is through.

10:17pm: The Fairy Godmother by Mercedes Lackey
Elena Klovis was born to be a Cinderella. She had the hard labor, and the wicked stepmother and stepsisters. Problem was, the prince in her kingdom was only eleven; no happily-ever-after there. So, at eighteen, she becomes a fairy godmother’s apprentice, bending the very force of stories (otherwise known as The Tradition). The Tradition wants each person in a path worn smooth by repetition--whether the end of that story is happy or not. Elena diverts cursed christenings into minor inconveniences, and Ladderlocks into the princess with her pea. But when The Tradition finds a prince for her to marry, she must face its full force--first, to resist its will, and then, to carve a new Tradition of her own.

A fun, sexy fantasy--especially for those who know these stories by heart.
First in the Five Hundred Kingdoms series.

10:11am: Sunshine by Robin McKinley
Calling Robin McKinley’s Sunshine a vampire book is like calling her Deerskin a fairy tale--true, but by no means the whole picture. It has the dark, compelling, seductive tone we expect of the vampire world--but this contrasts fiercely with the cinnamon rolls and community spirit of the human world. The conflict is embodied in Sunshine herself, an ordinary baker from a magical family.

Sunshine did something impossible: she escaped from the gang of vampires who captured her. Then she did something unthinkable: she freed their vampire captive.

Sunshine has many of the same themes as McKinley’s The Hero and the Crown. Like Aerin, Sunshine is an unlikely heroine trying to save her part of the world. By the end of the book, she is also not quite...human. The direction of her quest pulls her between the good, solidly human guy and the magical one who can help with her impossible task. Her conflict is as much internal as external; being captured by vampires is really only the beginning.

Sunshine leaves you with a fringe of questions to tangle your thoughts; if you want a neat, tidy bow, this is not your book. Who knew Robin McKinley could pull off a dark urban fantasy? But who would have bet against her?

Winner of the 2004 Mythopoeic Fantasy Award

6:32pm: The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud
Nathaniel was raised by a minor minister in an alternate London in a time not long past. He was acquired at the age of five for a large sum of money, and fostered out to the minister and his wife in order to learn magic. By age eleven he is well beyond his studies, and filled with the cocky pride that is his downfall when magician Simon Lovelace chooses to make an example of him. Publicly humiliated, Nathaniel decides to summon a demon to steal Lovelace’s greatest treasure.

Enter Bartimaeus, a snarky djinni with his own opinions and plenty of attitude. Bartimaeus may be reduced to serving Nathaniel’s commands (or suffer Indefinite Confinement in a tobacco tin at the bottom of the Thames), but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. Magicians are notorious for putting djinni and other spirits in all sorts of uncomfortable spots to do their bidding--weaving them into carpets, locking them in scrying mirrors--and causing them to risk grave injury. Nathaniel’s just another magician with a stronger death wish than usual. At first.

Before long, the commoners’ Resistance is involved, plots are discovered, and things go from bad, to worse, to worse still. Through it all, Nathaniel remains determined to do the right thing--even while whining about the consequences. Despite his facade of indifference, Bartimaeus saves him again and again--until they reach the worst of all.

After closing this book, I was left with plenty of questions about this odd world. What defines a magician, besides specialized training and a very odd upbringing? What are the Resistance really up to? What are the countries outside of England like, particularly those decadent Prague wizards? As this is the first in a trilogy, I suspect I can read on to find out.

5:30pm: The Shape-Changer's Wife by Sharon Shinn
When the young apprentice Aubrey wants to learn transmogrification, his master sends him to the shape-changer Glyrenden. But Glyrenden is not home; his wife Lilith allows Aubrey to stay. Lilith displays no love for her husband nor her surroundings, yet will not leave. Intrigued, Aubrey examines the household more closely when the shape-changer returns--the charming yet mercurial Glyrenden, his gruff and scuttling servants--and discovers that nothing is as it seems, least of all Lilith.

The Shape-Changer’s Wife explores themes discussed in Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion--what if someone had the power to create or transform another human being? What makes us human? And it echoes the struggles with power explored in Patricia McKillip’s the Forgotten Beasts of Eld: what is the difference between knowledge and power? What is an acceptable use of power? But its suffusion of magic and layers of illusion are peculiarly her own, as are the characters we recognize beneath them.