The Magicians [Paperback]

This is a novel that wears its influences brazenly (there's firm nods to J. K. Rowling, C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien and D&D) and yet despite that it's still a difficult novel to define. 'Harry Potter on acid' doesn't really come close; I've seen the comparison with J. K. Rowling's young wizard made too much for my liking, not just because Grossman's tale of a young man enrolling at a magic school is much darker and edgier than Rowling's work, but also because he asks a very good question that Rowling - to my knowledge - doesn't: what the hell do you do with yourself when you've graduated from magic school, wield considerable power and have the whole real world spread out before you?

Note the emphasis on the world 'real', since this is one of the fundamental points of Grossman's book - how the real and fantastical worlds come together to cause no shortage of problems for his protagonist, the young Quentin Coldwater. Quentin is a character that many of us will feel familiar with, (since many of us have probably been similar people at some point, or maybe even still are): a bored, depressed young man who can't see where he fits into the mundanity of modern life, and longs to escape into a fantastical world that he has become obsessed with (in Quentin's case, the Narnia-esque world of Fillory).

Yet unlike most people, Quentin gets his chance to fulfil his personal fantasy when he enrolls at 'Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy', somewhere in upstate New York. Soon he finds himself wielding power the likes of which he has only ever dreamed of. It all seems too good to be true...and of course, it is. With power comes responsibility, and even in the fantastical environs of Brakebills the consequences are terribly real.

The premise of a group of young people learning magic and then having to apply it to 21st century living is a very fertile one, and one that Grossman exploits fully, not least in the various issues and themes that he addresses. Quentin - an engaging protagonist that inspires effortless sympathy on the reader's part - learns a lot of lessons the hard way: not to abuse or toy with the power he wields, not to try and run away from the problems the real world throws at him, and to be very careful what he wishes for. Quentin's (mis)adventures also raise numerous questions - is it ethical to teach young men and women to harness such a potentially destructive force, that can (and does) kill? Is escapism just pointless wish-fulfilment that only leads to disappointment (or even worse)? What do you do when you've achieved the one goal you've ever had, and realise that life doesn't just end happily after like it does in the stories?

Despite the exploration of themes and the questions that they raise, The Magicians is fundamentally an accessible, enjoyable fantasy adventure in the great tradition of the influences it makes no attempt to hide - albeit a fantasy adventure laced with irony and disaffection, with its feet planted very firmly in the bitterness and bile of the real world. Grossman's prose is fluid and furnished with evocative embellishments, and he has imbued real pace and purpose into the story. Furthermore, Brakebills - clearly based on the English public school model - is the kind of school everyone wishes they attended, and is subsequently familiar and fun to read about (the English influence extends to even the characters themselves, as all have very 'classic' English names - Quentin, Janet, Eliot, Richard, Alice and so on), which creates an almost whimsical atmosphere.

Watching Quentin and his merry band of slackers struggle with their powers and their relationships - especially when they're trying to put them in the real world's context - starts out as enjoyable and swiftly becomes addictive. Grossman manages to inject real personality into most of the principal characters and is extremely good at depicting their emotions and relationships - particularly that between Quentin and his love interest, which packs a serious, realistic emotional punch. Yet there are moments of well-judged humour as well (I laughed out loud more than once - on the train, no less) and it's also fun to see how Grossman pays tribute to his influences (the spells 'Magic Missile' and 'Prismatic Spray', for example, are lifted directly from D&D).

As always, there are some flaws. I personally thought that Quentin was thrust rather too quickly into the magical world of Brakebills, to the extent that I found it hard at first to quite understand his resentment of the real world - simply because I hadn't seen enough of his life there. A couple more pages to demonstrate his poor relationship with his parents and his general disaffection would have helped. Furthermore, I found his transition to Brakebills - to a different world - rather subjective; even for someone so obsessed with a fantasy world that he almost believes in it, he accepts his new life far too readily for my liking.

Certain emotional events are not emphasised enough - the horrible fate of one student fairly early on is clearly hugely tragic and shocking, yet the pupils seem to forget about it very swiftly. 'Book three' (the novel is divided into four 'books') is probably the weakest, mainly because the story is at its most potent when dealing with Quentin's struggles in the real world. When the action moves to other more fantastical realms - mainly in book three - the impact seems somehow muted (with one notable exception). Some readers might take issue with the fact that there is no discernible magic 'system' and that it's sometimes hard to get a feel for what constitutes a serious drawing of power and what doesn't, though this wasn't much of an issue for me.

Verdict: Flaws aside, The Magicians is a very entertaining book. Grossman has delivered a creative, thought-provoking fantasy that is all the more powerful for its links to our own reality and the issues it raises. Despite the obvious debt it owes to various genre classics, it still somehow manages to feel fresh. The Magicians is by turns exciting, shocking, amusing and heart-wrenching. Easily one of my favourite books I've read this year - highly recommended.

When I first finished this book, I put it down in disappointment and barely fettered rage. I felt like the whole thing had been an exercise in frustration. If the purpose of a novel is to entertain, it did that; I could barely stop reading. If the purpose of a novel is to make you think, it did that too; the world is intriguing and the story was tightly paced, if unusually plotted (put in to very distinct parts which could honestly each be books in their own right, although I think you'd be missing out to view them as anything but pieces of a whole.)

But had I written this review then, I would have given it three stars: good effort, beautifully written, ruined by obnoxious characters and disjointed settings. But over the following months I found my mind wandering, and Quentin's 'adventure' had a prominent place in my imagination for a while. Just where exactly did things go so wrong for him? Why? Whose fault was it? Why did the main character have to be such a dick (although he gets better)?

And so I reread it. And I loved it. Funny how things which bugged you before make the novel special on a second time through, isn't it? Now I saw Quentin's apathetic whining for what it was, a criticism of such a tiring trait rather than merely just another part of his character. This sounds like a strange thing to miss, but I believe I became so immersed in Quentin's headspace on my first read that I simply didn't factor in that he's an unreliable narrator. His snide commentary came across as what we were meant to agree with, while on a reread the frustration of those around him shone through. And as much as I rage about how annoying he can be, the reason Quentin frustrated me so much was because there was a lot to like about him, but he's just so obtuse in the way that young men are that I saw my own mistakes being played out to me in a much more exciting way then they ever occurred in my own life.

What drives this novel is the notion of longing, the deep seated knowledge in your gut that you were meant for something better and it passed you by. This novel takes this idea and smashes it to pieces, and so it's no wonder that it has become so divisive. I implore you, however, to give it a chance, because if you're one of those that sat and desperately prayed for Hagrid to burst through your door and whisk you away, you will be given an interesting story which might make you reconsider. Magic would be beautiful, but it could never make us happy, and Grossman tackles this subject deftly.

So, while it's definitely not for everyone, I can definitely say that it's for me. The Magician King, the more experimental sequel, was even better. Give it a shot and see if you really want to step through the wardrobe.

This book is about a teenager, Quentin, who lives in New York. Very intelligent, and with a lifelong interest in the magical worlds of some stories, he is somewhat bored by everything, so when he goes for an interview for his university entrance, he is somewhat mystified when events take a turn for the bizarre. Instead of the interview at the college he expected, he finds himself taking an exam for something quite different - a school of magic. This part of the book reminded me of "The Mysterious Benedict Society" and was by far the best the book had to offer. For a while there I was entranced by this novel.

Sadly that did not last, and as the story meandered along, I became increasingly frustrated that there was really nothing much captivating me like that first section had. I skimmed through the latter pars and was glad to put it down at the end.

Everyone is noting the very deliberate similarities between this book and Harry Potter/Narnia. For me though, the book it brought to mind was Hans Christian Andersen's "The Emperor's New Clothes". It was recommended it because it was meant to be something more than a children's book - a Harry Potter for adults (as though Harry Potter was not enjoyed by adults!)

My worry is that when people recommend such books to each other it is because the books are so clever, that reading them and getting them indicates that one enjoys great literature. Each to their own, and if you enjoyed Moby Dick, Ulysses and anything by Murukami, your mileage may vary with this book. Because to be fair, the writer is quite clever. He does not hide the source of the ideas in this book. It is quite clear that Lewis and Rowling are in his sights. Moreover, his insipid Quentin's internal dialogue is so well done that one cannot fail but to be rightly bored and annoyed with the lad.

It is all very clever. But is it enjoyable?

To me, a book should be enjoyable first and clever later. Lewis and Rowling both managed that. C S Lewis manages to put a shed load of Christian theology in his Narnia books. Rowling's redemption themes are also incredibly powerful in her last book, and she was a clever storyteller throughout.

This book may be just as clever, but it was so far from enjoyable that I cannot recommend it. Thus The Emperor's Clothes - it takes someone who remembers what a good story looks like to point out that this is not the best book since... well since Harry Potter I suppose.