High fantasy is a hard genre to write convincingly -- too often books end up as bad clones of Tolkien or "Star Wars." Unfortunately, "The Symphony of Ages" is bad fantasy... with a flaky girl-power twist. While there's quite a few pretty descriptions and interesting new ideas, Elizabeth Haydon's series ends up flopping like a morbid fish.
"Rhapsody" introduces us to a potentially interesting heroine and world -- Rhapsody is an ex-prostitute bard who is also a Singer, able to change reality by her voice. After a run-in with a former "client's" henchmen, she ends up with a hired assassin and his ogre-ish sidekick -- and then goes through "The Root," in a life-changing trip through time.
"Prophecy: Child of Earth" continued the story as Rhapsody and Co. battle a demon, gain new powers, and battle the future Battle That Will Either Save Or End The World. Okay, whatever. In the finale of the trilogy, "Destiny: Child of the Sky," the group is battling the evil F'Dor, and Rhapsody learns the secrets of her past and what might destroy her love.
Here's a tip for all wannabe authors: No matter how much you want us to like your hero(ine), don't make him/her perfect. Apparently Elizabeth Haydon never got that tip. Her excruciating heroine makes the angels look positively selfish -- and it's enough to make you sick. Too bad Haydon didn't focus the series on creepy assassin Achmed or part-dragon Ashe -- either one would make a more interesting lead than Rhapsody.
Haydon does redeem her book somewhat with her writing, which makes good use of language and has quite a few prettily written passages. She also conjures up some truly intriguing ideas, such as Rhapsody's singing ability and the Root. But in other areas, her writing has the feeling of a kiddie fantasy cartoon -- a magic sword called "Daystar Clarion"? Come on.
Rhapsody is the biggest problem: ridiculously sweet, annoyingly clueless, and inspires all other characters to follow her like so many lovestruck sheep, or quiver after her. She even has her virginity magically restored, and doesn't realize that her goddesslike beauty practically causes men to wet themselves. Even dragons get the hots for her. Who can like a character like that? She reads like the private fantasy of an author who desperately needed to get this out of her system.
"The Symphony of Ages" had promise at the start, but a grotesquely saccharine heroine and her army of lust-addled followers kill that promise. As fantasy goes, Haydon's first three books are an exercise in irritation.