The Causal Angel, a review...

The past two weeks have been less productive than I would have liked. My Josephine (more on that name) is giving my imagination too much to process. Most of its creative power is going to the current situation. The only silver lining is that these experiences will fuel the fiction that will become Tommy and Me, which I'm working on after The Wizards...

The Wizard of Santa Monica is coming along though. It's not the pace I would like, nor is it the quality I would like. However, if there is one thing I am proud of it's that I'm an excellent revisionist.

***

"The enemy is death." That is an idea that resonates throughout the novel. It is interesting that while the characters certainly are "alive", theirs is not the kind of living that we would identify with here in our century. This novel does a good job of bringing otherworldly science and our own theoretical physics into one sphere that is not very understandable!

However, if you can get past that, then the confusing science creates a mesh of world-building that seems almost mystical.

Overview:

Author: Hannu Rajaniemi
Genre: Science Fiction

Premise: The legendary thief, Jean LeFlambeur and a young Matjek Chen must overcome numerous obstacles to rescue Mieli from the Zoku and prevent the Sobornost and the villainous All-Defector from finding the Kaminari Jewel (which grants certain individuals the power to change the universe).



What didn't work for me:

This novel could have done more philosophically. The Causal Angel is a very thin book, compared to the other two, so I thought it had space to muse on certain philosophical issues. The main question of identity is never really delved into.

Really, when you exist alongside other copies of you, what are the consequences for your identity? Are you still you if there are fifty of you walking around and more of you can be created? If the Self becomes digitized, is it still 'Self' or 'Community' since the information that makes up 'Self' is no longer unique? Is your humanity just a collection of quantum states that can be copied and recopied? And what about the question of Nature vs. Nurture when there are multiple copies of you that are you, but with new and unique life experiences to shape them?

All of that could have been looked into. Rajaniemi plays with some ideas and the plot occasionally wanders into that territory, but for the most part it is left untouched.

A consequence of not truly exploring this issue is that it made the ending feel like a cheat. I won't say what the ending is, but it leaves open the possibility of more Jean LeFlambeur stories, though I'm not sure if I can invest in the character if a new copy can continue on with the series...

It's a shame.


What worked for me:

Everything else worked for me. Some of my favorite elements were these:

There is this tease in the beginning where young Matjek Chen reads the last book in the Chronicles of Narnia and complains that everyone dies. So, I thought, they are all going to die by the end of the book. But that's part of the playfulness of the story: If you can self replicate or be 'saved' like videogame progress, can you truly die? And what's more, young Matjek Chen is horrified at his older version's infamous accomplishments and by the fact that he will become that when he's older. But will he become the very thing that horrifies him as a child? Who knows. This is a digitized human.

The world, as always, is a pleasure to explore. This time the action takes place in a number of environments like deep space and several planets, like Saturn. Though the focus of the world-building is spread apart, you never truly feel like you've been cheated. There is enough here to give a satisfying setting for the story and plenty of room for it to grow (oh, vast amounts!).

The Kaminari Jewel is an element of the book that truly belongs in a Fantasy novel. Yet, the author manages to keep it in the realm of theoretical physics and quantum mechanics. Unless you study the things the author has studied (and understood it), the science will be confusing. This was a negative point in the last review, but this time it works to the novel's advantage. The jewel itself is a pseudo-magical artifact that grants unimaginable power. The mystical texture comes from the confusion the reader will likely experience when the narrator explains the science behind the jewel.

Here, I also wanted to note that the storytelling is a Science Fiction take on the old way of telling stories, the serials of old where the main character did not have to develop permanently, only as long as the adventure lasted. Rajaniemi adds a twist. His main character learns things, but he is just a copy of a Prime version. Each new copy (for future adventures I'm guessing) will start from scratch without the benefit of the previous version's experiences. Whether or not the Prime learns from his copies is left a mystery.


Overall:

This possibly could have been a longer work with more of the great things that made the previous two installments memorable.

It did feel a little light in content, but that helped since the science fiction exposition can drain you substantially if you read it for long periods of time.

If you're a hardcore Science Fiction fan and have an Engineering degree or have studied physics, etc., then you will get more out of this than most readers who have not. I'm almost tempted to read about this stuff even more just to see how that layers the story.




LC

The Cuckoo's Calling, a review...

Nothing gets me in the mood to write a mystery more than reading a few good ones. I picked several that have been top sellers this year and in recent years. One of these, the one I'm reviewing now, is the work of J.K. Rowling, who wrote the magnificent Harry Potter Series. I remember fondly staying up late to read them (I came across them when she had written most of them already).

I binged. There weren't enough hours in the day. I had to absorb each Harry Potter book, follow each new storyline, discover new magic... My eyes literally hurt when I finished book five. Luckily, book six and seven had yet to be finished and I got a much needed break.

And then it was over... J.K. Rowling is not Rick Riordan, who continued the story from his first Percy Jackson Series. When The Casual Vacancy came out, I remember wanting to read it. But I didn't for whatever reason. And then came Cormoran Strike written under a pseudonym (kinda like me).

It was too good to be true. J.K. Rowling writing a murder mystery! So, I read it.

***

Overview:

Title: The Cuckoo's Calling
Author: Robert Galbraith
Genre: Private Eye / Murder Mystery



Premise: Private investigator Cormoran Strike is hired to take a second look at the apparent suicide of supermodel Lula Landry.


What didn't work for me:

There are three elements of a mystery novel, especially those mysteries involving Private Investigators, that help me enjoy it: The Detective; the modus operandi of the detective (or how he/she conducts business); the mystery / crime. When these elements are well executed, then I tend to enjoy those novels more. Poorly done...

So, how did J.K. Rowling (Galbraith) do? Let me address my grievances about those elements.

The Detective's detecting...

Pertaining to the way Cormoran Strike conducts business I was less than impressed. My logic is that J.K. Rowling is no stranger to writing mysteries. The Harry Potter books always had some little mystery for Harry and friends to solve; these were very catchy and brought life to the magic books.

So, I was confused why Cormoran, an investigator trained in the military, would turn to Wikipedia and Google at times to verify information. Now, granted, the subject of the investigation was a popular figure in life, but still... Some of the clues he gets come directly from unreliable articles he finds on the internet.

For example, one major clue comes from an article, which quotes an unidentified character during the funeral of Lula Landry. Cormoran decides this mystery person is important and tracks them down. Cormoran never questions the authenticity of the article; he just takes it as fact...

There are also complaints that this book has a sloooooooooooow plot, which is fairly accurate. The reason for this is that Cormoran's style of detecting is not very exciting. He has two modes: Internet and interview. So, for most of the book Cormoran interviews person after person. This is not so different than other novels of this type, but when I say interview, I mean interview. The subjects of his queries are brought to Cormoran with very little work done by the detective, thanks to the influential nature of his client. And he sits with them. And he asks his questions. They answer, even the uncomfortable questions that the police didn't think to ask.

Maybe if Cormoran had a bone of cunning, the smallest shred of it, then it would have made the interviews more rewarding. There were several times where he could have been clever and bypassed the my-client-is-influential-so-you-must-talk-to-me problem. For example, he has to find a person at a rehab clinic and straight out tells them that he is a detective looking for a person that had spent time in that clinic. He could have instead said that he is the washed out son of a famous rock star (technically true) and needed some time in the rehab center. Deception. It never crosses Cormoran's mind. How does he get the information he wants? A kind staff member at the rehab center decides to help him by neatly recalling all that he knows...

The mystery...

One thing that has to make sense to me when reading a mystery novel is why the police were unable to solve the crime in the first place (if a Private Eye is involved). If the detective is an actual police detective, then the problem never comes up. If the crime involves the supernatural, then it is easy to see how regular police detectives could fail to solve it or come to completely false conclusions.

In the case of Lula Landry's suicide, the problem was that the police labeled it a suicide from the very first chapter and stuck with it.

That bothered me, especially when we meet these policemen later in the book. They seemed too cartoonish to be real cops; and they had to be drawn that way for them to miss some of the clues they missed in Lula Landry's case.

You have to have some respect for police procedures if the mystery takes place in this world, and especially so if the mystery takes place in a city like LONDON!



What worked for me:

The Detective...

I like Cormoran Strike as a character. He is not the typical superman that sometimes haunts mysteries and thrillers. J.K. Rowling drew his shortcomings, physical and spiritual, in a realistic way.

At first, Cormoran comes off as a character that has traits meant to differentiate him from the other characters in the book (in an absurd way). So, he is big and tall, has a prosthetic leg, is mixed race, etc. etc. That was a turn off since Rowling has a knack for drawing characters with memorable physical traits (lightning-shaped scar, hint, hint).

As the story goes along, Cormoran's foibles, his inner flaws start to show. He has a foolish attraction to women who are beautiful and abuse him. He lets them because he doesn't think he deserves to be with them. The other side stories, his mother's murder (which likely will haunt the seven books Rowling plans to write about him) seemed interesting enough to want to know more about.

And sure, his detecting method is as exciting as watching a snail race, but he grows on you the way that Columbo does. In terms of personality, the two detectives are similar. They are not Sherlock Holmes and they know it. Their strengths come from what they see in others. And once they bite onto a suspect...

Overall, Cormoran Strike comes off as a humble, though flawed piece of work that is just enough a person, a real person, to follow for more than one book.

The Mystery...

Hard to believe this can be something that worked and didn't work for me. The mystery element worked for me in a meta level, as a teaching tool. It is a splash of ice cold water that wakes you up.

The novel is one of a line of old-fashioned detective stories that were once plentiful but have been replaced by thrillers and modern mysteries (like Gone Girl). There is the traditional ending, where the detective spills his guts about how he figured things out. This one has less action than most, but it still follows the formula.

The typical exposition at the climax, the looooooooong detective's logic that goes on for pages, was what got me. It read...antiquated, dated. That is a hard pill to swallow when you're planning to write something like it in the near, near future. The Cuckoo's Calling definitely shows that the whodunit has wrinkles along its aged skin.

On another level, I like to think that J.K. Rowling will push past this first awkward attempt to write an improved Cormoran Strike mystery. I have faith that she has that much talent.



Overall:

This mystery has a slow, slow pace that rewards a bit in its climax. Maybe cutting about a hundred pages would have helped sharpen the dull edges. But the real treat here isn't the detecting or the tragedy of Lula Landry (I could never truly understand her). The real treat is the J.K. Rowling narration and its protagonist, Cormoran Strike.

The narration reveals some of what must be J.K. Rowling's thoughts on her fans and her fame. It is interesting to read.

He makes the fiction work. She makes the narration do more than tell a story.





LC

The Ocean at the end of the Lane, a review...

I saw the size of Neil Gaiman's new book, The Ocean at the end of the Lane, and thought it would be an easy read. Because of its size, I decided to get it in audiobook format (also, Gaiman voiced the edition I got). And, I had just finished reading Holes, a book that also has a young protagonist. This way, I could compare techniques.

It turned out to be a wise and enjoyable decision.

No one ever read to me when I was a small child, but I got hints of what I was missing while listening to this audiobook. I'm familiar with Gaiman's work; I loved his "Sandman" series (like many, many others).

***

Overview:
Title: The Ocean at the end of the Lane
Author: Neil Gaiman
Genre: Contemporary Fantasy / Urban Myth



Premise: A middle-aged man returns to his childhood town and rediscovers a forgotten adventure from his youth that involved magic, otherworldly creatures, and a young woman named Lettie Hempstock.


What didn't work for me:

Very few things didn't jive with me while reading (listening) to this novel. For one thing, Gaiman constantly reminds the reader that his protagonist is "just a boy" or "seven years old." Really, I got that the first time you said it Neil. There was no need to repeat it every chapter (no exaggeration). After a while, I started to laugh at that because it reminded me of "The Wonder Years" and the way the narrator always declared, "And then, it happened..." in every episode. It always happened to Kevin once an episode, this important event.

The reason Gaiman does it so much is to put some emotional emphasis on the situation. For example, when the 7-year-old protagonist sees his father having sexual intercourse with another woman, he doesn't understand it even while he describes the act in terms that he knows: Father was hugging the woman from behind and kissing her, etc. Of course, the older adult protagonist understands what is going on, but back then, "he [was] just a boy of 7."

For my taste, doing it less would have been more potent.

What worked for me:

I think if someone else had written this book they would have been tempted to pile on a hundred more pages. But being just shy of two hundred pages works well for this book. Mr. Gaiman presents a succinct and controlled text, without needless secondary plots or excessive description; I'm thinking of The Night Circus in particular. Gaiman's book has a fast paced plot that doesn't feel hurried.

And honestly, I'm looking at the girth of some of the books I have to read (including The Cuckoo's Calling) and they're intimidating.

The other element of this novel that worked for me was the mythical tone throughout. This is a fantasy that takes place in modern times, but it feels older, like it could easily be a medieval work. Gaiman makes use of what I can only call magic without the cliches of modern Fantasies (Urban Fantasies). There are few recognizable tropes here, like bindings, but aside from that, the world and its creatures is the brainchild of the author.

Yet, these strange occurrences and practices come wrapped in a contemporary setting. The prologue and epilogue are brief, but potent. What the characters reveal about the protagonist at the end is very compelling and just sad.

It is rare and refreshing to come across this type of Contemporary Fantasy today, an irony since this seems to be the generation of contemporary fantasies.

Last but not least, what worked for me is the way Gaiman plays with the formula of this type of novel. This is not the first novel I've read where the protagonist, as an adult, looks back at some period of his/her life that was awe-inspiring and meaningful. In The Ocean at the end of the Lane, Gaiman's protagonist looks back but not to reminisce. The memories are so terrifying that he either has blocked them or they have been blocked for him using supernatural means. This leads the adult protagonist to question the validity of living.

In the end, he's not asking whether his life was worthwhile. The protagonist questions whether living at all was worthwhile; his current miseries make him question the worth of living.

Overall:

The main character of this book recounts memories, which have been altered, with a sort of dread that fools you. At first I thought he was going to recount events that he was wistful about (as many books that have similar framing devices do). But it feels like he wants to remember these events because they are somehow more horrific than what his life has become.

And so, a short review for a short book. It's very enjoyable.

If you're a fan of Neil Gaiman you'll automatically pick up on his wit and bits of wisdom. This one is not too heavy on either (Anansi Boys is a little heavy on the comedy).


LC

Ask the Dust, a review...

Rocky start for a Monday, but at least I finished out some errands, including this one:

***

"Ah, Los Angeles! Dust and fog of your lonely streets, I am no longer lonely..."

That quote from Ask the Dust appears in my novel, The Quantum of the Past. The funny thing is that I had not read the novel at the time I added it.

And I continuously heard about John Fante and Ask the Dust from one of my writing teachers at Long Beach State, Stephen Cooper; he is the author of a Fante biography called Full of Life. The man even made us an offer that was difficult to refuse: Read Ask the Dust and if it did not thoroughly entertain you, he would cover whatever money you spent on the novel.

He believes in it that strongly. I bought my copy off the ibookstore and set to reading it much later. To be fair, I don't want my money back. Ask the Dust is a novel that tries you though. It is set in Los Angeles during the Great Depression and some of its sensibilities tug at you. It is a novel full of life that I hated and loved at times.


Overview:

Title: Ask the Dust
Author: John Fante
Genre: Literary



Premise: Colorado writer, Arturo Bandini, has come to Los Angeles seeking to make a name for himself and be regarded as a "Great American Writer." Along the way he comes across a woman, Camilla Lopez and falls in love. What follows is an episodic tale of hope and victory tainted by loss; every cloud has a silver lining, true, but it is also true that every well-earned victory has the stink of death.



What didn't work for me:

I remember watching that movie called Limitless, in which an uninspired writer gets the creativity bump that he needs by ingesting these pills that stimulate his brain. Naturally, the writer protagonist had a hot girlfriend who is successful (because professional women who have it all love losers). And in the end, he succeeds to publish a masterful book, runs for congress, and keeps his hot girlfriend... Yes. Yes.

Watching Limitless was a horrible experience. It was less painful watching the last twenty minutes of that Japanese movie called Audition.

For me, there is no worst protagonist than a writer protagonist. Every book and movie that has one always seems like the wet dream of the writer(s) who compose them. They are written manifestos, their way of giving the finger to anyone who disagrees with their simple ideas about writing in general; because their writer protagonists are geniuses comparable to Faulkner and Shakespeare and we ought to listen to these wise fictional men/women.

ugh...

Ask the Dust has a writer protagonists. That turned me off badly right from the start. But I will go into this a little bit more below and why it wasn't a total deal breaker.

Aside from the writer protagonist, the other thing about the novel that made me not love it as much was its episodic nature.

What was it about the early to mid Twentieth Century that inspired writers to produce novels like this?

I'm talking about novels like On the Road, Naked Lunch, etc.; these are novels heavily based on the experiences of the writer. There must have been some belief that writing inspired by actual events would generate the most significant literature. I think they call that, "writing what you know." Or in this case, "write what you've lived."

There are sections of Ask the Dust that are completely random, like the episode where Arturo's neighbor takes him to a farm where they steal a calf that the neighbor later butchers in his hotel room to make steaks. Oddly funny. But why?

I understand that a plot in serious, literary works is almost a useless trifle, but random events beg the question, why?



What worked for me:

Okay, so Arturo Bandini is a writer who succeeds at having his novel published. I almost gag at that, but there are reasons it was palatable in this novel.

For one, Arturo suffers from a writer's version of Bipolar disorder. Oh, if you are one of us writers, you know what I mean: Days of loving your work to the point where it is ridiculous; hating your every sentence because who could possibly relate to any of it, you're a sham, a wannabe, worthless.

Bandini is also Italian American, leaving him the victim of prejudice and a target for such names as "wop" and "dago." There are instances where Arturo is called those names and where he calls other minorities by similar names ("greaser" is used often by him). That means he suffers from low self esteem and compensates for it by issuing out the same monstrous hatred others have shown him.

He wants to be the Great American Writer, but is unsure if he fits in America.

That he is so frail and foolish made the writer protagonist thing palatable. A big plus is the characterization of the editor, Hackmuth.

Arturo Bandini worships this editor because, in his fantasy, he discovered him; the writer even has a picture of the editor in his hotel room!

And though Bandini gushes praise for Hackmuth's genius as an editor, Hackmuth hardly shares that enthusiasm. Actually, Hackmuth is very cold, only having a few lines of actual dialogue aimed at Arturo in the form of short messages he mails; the big news regarding Arturo's novel come in the form of a telegram that hardly has a sentence.

It's beautifully done, balancing the megalomania of Bandini.

And the love he has for Camilla! It makes and breaks Bandini, leading to one of the most memorable novel endings I've had the pleasure of reading in a while. Really, the ending makes you choke up.

Another element well executed is the take on Los Angeles. Bukowski, the famous poet inspired by Fante, said this was his favorite Los Angeles novel, with good reason.

This is a time capsule of Los Angeles as it was during the Great Depression. It doesn't try to bore you with too much local color anecdotes, but it includes valuable information in the form of action. For example, there is an excellent episode added that deals with an earthquake and its aftermath. Fante describes what the emergency response system was like in those days and how news spread, mostly through rumor (since there was no Twitter). And there is also the specific neighborhoods used, like Bunker Hill, which were vastly different than they are now.

In all, they paint a Los Angeles that is different than the one I live in, but eerily similar.



Overall:

Although the episodic nature of this novel put me off a bit, I learned a few things about the nature of writing from the writer protagonist. It is difficult for some readers to understand just how much we invest into our writing, but I think anyone who reads Ask the Dust will get a fair idea.

Overall, that is why this novel was thoroughly enjoyable: It is a scary look at writers. And any writer who tells you that they have never experienced the things that Arturo Bandini experienced in the course of the fiction is not a writer at all.





LC

The Night Circus, a review...

Some books challenge me so... I struggled to finish Melville's Moby Dick and McCarthy's Blood Meridian (I had to stop and start reading it several times). With Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus, it was the same; I started two times before I went into it. Unlike the other novels I mentioned though, every time I picked up Morgenstern's book, I felt like I was trying to chop down a tree with a pair of nail clippers.

This is not a negative thing at all, especially since the writing had its moments of bliss. It's just a shame there was sooooo much of it. But more on that in a second.

***

Overview:

Title: The Night Circus
Author: Erin Morgenstern
Genre: An interesting mix of Fantasy and Historical Fiction



Premise: At the end of the 19th Century in Europe, two ancient "Wizards" agree to train apprentices with the intent of pitting them against each other. These apprentices, Celia Bowen and Marco H. try to outdo each other using a magical circus (Le Cirque des Rêves / the Night Circus) as a platform for their displays.


What didn't work for me:

The novel has about a hundred extra pages that it fills with description and unnecessary secondary plots.

If anything will be said about The Night Circus is that it is very descriptive. One of the things it tries to do is describe, in 2nd person point of view (you see this, you hear that, etc.), the act of walking into the circus and seeing the many things it has to offer. These sections are wisely separated from the narrative, but there are chunks of description that serve no purpose.

In particular, there is the description of a dinner at the home of this character named Chandresh, where the founding minds of the Night Circus first meet. The author establishes, in great detail, what these dinners are usually like (dishes, ambiance, drinks, deserts, etc.). Then, she goes into greater detail about what the dinner that night consists of (dishes, ambiance, drinks, deserts, conversations, etc.). It is a feast of information that hits all the senses, some of which appears again and again when the author describes dinners that this character hosts during other occasions.

Now, this is just my preference, but I DO NOT read books to marvel at the writing style. To me, it is like reading a poem for its plot. While the writing cleverness or beauty is always something that's enjoyable to find, it becomes annoying when excessive.

Aside from the orgy of description, the other reason the novel felt long is that there are too many unimportant character arcs to follow. The main focus of the plot is the competition between the two students, which develops into a romance (but you probably figured that out).

But M. Morgenstern also follows the story arcs of characters that add little to the plot, like the clock-maker, Herr Thiessen, who becomes so in love with the circus that he starts a sort of journal that influences others to share their experiences with the circus; they eventually become a fan group.

The other unnecessary story arc was the one dealing with Bailey and the twins born in the circus, Poppet and Widget. Given all the attention the author pays to Bailey, I expected his story to blend in with the overall story a bit smoother than it did. As it is, the author literally tells us that Bailey is there to end the story, "not destined or chosen" to do so; it is just a random way to end the novel's "Wizard" competition. Before even knowing that, I tended to dislike the chapters dealing with Bailey in general because they take place in the future (1900s). This is jarring early on while the main action takes place in the late 1800s.

And while the characters of Bailey, Poppet, and Widget are interesting, there are ways to have done this to not be such an inconvenience. Imagine if Wuthering Heights was written with chapters from the characters of Cathy 2 and Hareton being thrown in while the action with Heathcliff and Cathy 1 was still taking place. Morgenstern might have used Bronte's book as inspiration and it would have turned out more pleasant, though the addition of Bailey would still have been jarring.



What worked for me:

1) This is a magnificent Fantasy.

The two "Wizard" masters represent two very different ways of doing magic, which they pass on to the two protagonist students, Celia and Marco. The world building is kept subtle, but effective, giving The Night Circus a truly magical foundation to build on.

There is a choice an author makes when writing a Fantasy: 1) Explain the magic system to make it seem more believable / scientific; 2) Leave out most of the specific details of how the magic works to add mysticism or mystery. The differences between the two options is vast, as are the opinions about them.

Or they may be subtle. The two series that come to mind are Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time and George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Jordan delights in giving a magic system with rules, while Martin leaves them out, focusing on the political machinations of his characters.

Brandon Sanderson has written "laws" that describe similar things. In his first law he would call choice #1 "hard magic" versus #2's "soft magic." Of course, it helps to note that his laws are preferences that define his fiction. I'm partial to reading about magic that isn't spelled-out with specific rules; to enjoy a magic trick, I don't need to know how they do it.

But as authors we do have a very big imagination and with enough time we can create silly laws for just about anything. Hell, I can come up with a Law of Magic Systems: Any magic system in fiction, no matter how sophisticated, is based on bull-shit logic (magic isn't real!!!!!!).

Fortunately, Morgenstern doesn't overdo the magic in the book. There are enough details to let me know that she understood what was going on. There was never the dreaded the deus ex machina (with the magic at least). The problems in the book are ultimately solved by the characters, not by magic. The main characters must accept that magic, though wonderful and powerful, is not a tonic.

It is always a treat to see an imaginative mind's take on mysticism and the author of this book doesn't disappoint. Marco's magic and Celia's magic are polar opposites (almost), but as the story goes, the systems merge and become new. There is just enough detail to understand what is going on without the nuances of rules of magic.

I won't say it fills you with "a sense of wonder." It goes beyond that. At times it is haunting and dark, frightening. At other times it is surreal, venturing into the extreme ends of the weird. It doesn't just give you magic acts, it questions what magic is and how it is influenced by our cultural expectations, which is something that I'm trying to do with The Wizards.

2) The main characters are...likable.

I don't know how long it has been since I read a novel that had a main character I could root for. Celia and Marco are in a set of circumstances that are beyond their control; it is an especially nice touch to make them seem free. They are excellent characters that I wanted to succeed. The revelation about the nature of the game later on just made me root for them more. Yes, romance develops, but the author handles it without the explicit (and obligatory) "juicy" details found in trashy Romance novels.

Even with The Hunger Games (which I thoroughly enjoyed), I wasn't interested in Peeta Mellark surviving the games.

***I just realized that I haven't rooted for a main character in a fantasy/science fiction novel in a long time...Katniss was the last. How long ago was that?***

This is an important element in any novel. I think the reason I enjoyed the Harry Potter books so much was that Harry was such an easy character to follow. He wasn't some bad-ass hunter. He was just a kid trying to get along. The human element in the character of Harry Potter was enormous.

With Celia and Marco, there is a genuine frailty that is very human. Celia is never over the tragic death of her mother and the disappointment of her father, which color her personality. Marco is an orphan clinging to a cold, ancient wizard for a father. The only warmth they find is within each other. They are uniquely matched, chaos and order.

3) The circus is the protagonist of the novel.

Although there are too many secondary and tertiary story arcs in this novel, some of them help to define the circus as more than a setting. The author follows the lives of not just the magicians dueling, but also the characters affected by the duel; the carnies and the founding members of the circus. They are as trapped as the main characters and worse off because they have almost no understanding of what is going on. They notice they age much slower than they used to and that they are in a stagnated state of being (spiritually).

In particular, the lives of Chandresh (the brain behind the Night Circus) and the Burgess sisters are well done. Chandresh, who is an innovator and pioneer, must deal with a lack of ideas as a result of the binding spell that falls over the circus. Marco, one of the main characters, erases his memory whenever he gets too close to the truth.

Tara and Lainie Burgess are sisters who enhance the designs of others with their own flair. But the circus consumes them (I won't add a spoiler of how).

That the author gives an enormous amount of time to these side-characters shows that she meant for the novel to be decentralized. The end result is that the Night Circus is the protagonist of The Night Circus. This is well done, like a good binding spell.


Overall:

The biggest compliment I can pay Morgenstern's The Night Circus is that I will visit it again in the future, along with Morgenstern's other fiction.

When the focus was on Celia and Marco, and those directly affected by the circus, the novel was great. At other times it dragged on with too much description that tried to give a first hand account of what it was describing; the author has to trust that the reader knows about these things, like caramel covered popcorn.

But, no novel is perfect.

And this is Morgenstern's debut novel.


LC