Weekly Book Review: The Golden Compass

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
Released: July 1995
Genre: Fantasy / Science Fiction / Steampunk

Summary:

Here lives an orphaned ward named Lyra Belacqua, whose carefree life among the scholars at Oxford's Jordan College is shattered by the arrival of two powerful visitors. First, her fearsome uncle, Lord Asriel, appears with evidence of mystery and danger in the far North, including photographs of a mysterious celestial phenomenon called Dust and the dim outline of a city suspended in the Aurora Borealis that he suspects is part of an alternate universe. He leaves Lyra in the care of Mrs. Coulter, an enigmatic scholar and explorer who offers to give Lyra the attention her uncle has long refused her. In this multilayered narrative, however, nothing is as it seems. Lyra sets out for the top of the world in search of her kidnapped playmate, Roger, bearing a rare truth-telling instrument, the compass of the title. All around her children are disappearing—victims of so-called "Gobblers"—and being used as subjects in terrible experiments that separate humans from their daemons, creatures that reflect each person's inner being. And somehow, both Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter are involved.

[From Goodreads]

Review:

I have no trouble declaring The Golden Compass of a higher order than most fantasy novels. Be aware: this is coming from someone who, from the age of 8 to around the age of 24, read nothing but fantasy novels and assigned texts. Many fantasy novels ignite the imagination, but few ignite the brain, at least not as skillfully as Pullman's magnum opus. The Golden Compass has the guts to confront both philosophy and religion in ways that are sure to offend or alienate certain readers.

Lyra Belacqua/Lyra Silvertongue, our not-so-humble protagonist, may be neither physically powerful nor particularly booksmart, but she has street smarts in abundance. Lyra is a capable heroine who rescues herself as often as she is rescued, and often her rescuers are led to defend her through her own machinations. Her problems are solved through quick wits, skillful lies, and the help of the alethiometer, a compass that can answer any question, provided one can read its spinning hands and many-meaninged symbols. Lyra can be spiteful, arrogant, and, in her own words, lacking in imagination, but that is, in my opinion, all the more endearing. Too often female leads in both the fantasy and YA genres are "perfect" aside from a few shallow flaws (clumsiness is one of the most common). Lyra's virtues and vices make her more vivid and more human than her superficial peers.

Almost all of the major characters are memorable. The cast includes an exiled armored bear, a Texan balloonist, the matriarch of a witch clan, one of the greatest villainesses ever put to page, and a herd of soulbeasts who range from cuddly (Pantalaimon) to terrifying (the golden monkey). That it manages such a diverse cast without feeling bloated is testament to its quality.

The Golden Compass' mythology is inventive and almost wholly original. Lyra's alternate world is populated by such creatures as shapeshifting animals who serve as physical representations of the soul, intelligent bears with a penchant for blacksmithing, and matriarchal, immortal witches. Despite the outlandish nature of some of its concepts, The Golden Compass straddles the line between oddity and realism fairly well through abundant detail and a supply of world-building anecdotes.

Recommended for anyone who can deal with a little religious criticism. Those who can't, steer well clear.

You should also read:

The Amulet of Samarkand

Weekly Book Review: The Name of the Wind

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss
Released: March 27, 2007
Genre: Fantasy

Summary:

So begins the tale of Kvothe—from his childhood in a troupe of traveling players, to years spent as a near-feral orphan in a crime-riddled city, to his daringly brazen yet successful bid to enter a difficult and dangerous school of magic. In these pages you will come to know Kvothe as a notorious magician, an accomplished thief, a masterful musician, and an infamous assassin. But The Name of the Wind is so much more—for the story it tells reveals the truth behind Kvothe's legend.

[From Patrick Rothfuss' official website.]

Review:

The Name of the Wind is well-written, even lyrical at times. This isn't one of those fantasies that shirks style in the name of plot, nor does it forsake plot in striving for style. Kvothe's tale kept me engaged throughout, and though certain plot points can feel disconnected, almost all are intriguing in their own right.

The Name of the Wind's world is at once new and familiar, a mix of well-trodden fantasy tropes and original ideas. One of those is its magic system, sympathy, which bows before the laws of thermodynamics and tends toward subtlety over flashy explosions. This system should appeal to those who favor the intricate rules of a Brandon Sanderson novel over J. K. Rowling's wand-waving and vague Latin.

The book's otherwise traditional structure is bolstered by the addition of a frame narrative that sharpens suspense by showing us exactly where the story is headed without revealing how it will get there. The frame narrative gives readers a lot to look forward to and helps pull the book through its duller stretches with the promise of later developments.

Most of the book's problems stem from its hero, Kvothe (or Kote, as he's known in the frame narrative). Kvothe (pronounced "quoth" and not, as I can't stop calling him, "k-voh-th") is, quite frankly, infallible, or so the novel seems to believe. His talents include but are not limited to: anything and everything. His only fault is his personality, condescending in its pretend modesty and almost as arrogant as the Draco Malfoy stand-in who haunts his time at the University. The book presents Kvothe in a largely positive light, however, so it's hard to say whether his personality was meant to be a fault at all.

I can't decide where I fall on the topic of the novel's female castmembers. Many fit into easily abused stereotypes common amongst female characters. Auri, for example, is the flighty, damaged girl, spouter of esoteric ramblings that, in a roundabout way, turn out to be prophetic. Quirky and childish, Auri seems to have been designed as a catalyst for displays of Kvothe's inner goodness.

Part of me hopes that the third book in the series, Doors of Stone, will reveal that Kvothe's apparent perfection is all the result of an unreliable narrator, though the other part worries that such a reveal three monstrous tomes in would ruin the series just as much as an "it was all a dream" ending. Still, some of the plot points in the second book (see: the Felurian), are pretty common in Mary Sue fanfiction. Whether it turns out to be Kvothe's Mary Sue fanfic or Rothfuss' will probably make all the difference.

Despite some complaints, The Name of the Wind is an enjoyable read that deserves much of the praise heaped on it since its release. Give it a shot if fantasy is one of your mainstays and prepare to wait for Doors of Stone.

You should also read:

Mistborn

Weekly Book Review: The Raven Boys

The Raven Boys

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater
Released: September 18, 2012
Genre: Young Adult / Fantasy

Summary:

Blue Sargent, the daughter of the town psychic in Henrietta, Virginia, has been told for as long as she can remember that if she ever kisses her true love, he will die. But she is too practical to believe in things like true love. Her policy is to stay away from the rich boys at the prestigious Aglionby Academy. The boys there – known as Raven Boys – can only mean trouble.

[From Maggie Stiefvater's official website.]

Review:

As you can see in the summary above, The Raven Boys professes to be about a teenage girl named Blue and the prediction that's been strangling her dating life since it was made. In reality, the book centers on a group of four boys from Ravenclaw—I mean, Aglionby Academy—on a quest to find and revive a lost Welsh noble.

The rich man's Ravenclaw.

Don't get me wrong. The reality of the novel is engaging. Each of the boys has his own set of goals, a backstory colored in varying shades of mysterious, and a slew of problems both mental and emotional. The group as a whole is a little cliché, consisting as it does of the Good Boy, the Bad Boy, the Quiet Boy, and the Angsty Boy, but they are compelling. Their quest is a little odd, as the book takes place in the fictional American town of Henrietta, Virginia and not, as might be expected given its ties to Welsh mythology, the United Kingdom, but it pulls its weight as the source from which the rest of The Raven Boys' plot emerges. Stiefvater crafts a fascinating and quite original hidden world throughout the book, enough to ignite my curiosity and ensure that I will likely read the second book in the series, despite a few misgivings.

One of these misgivings is, unfortunately, our so-called heroine, Blue Sargent. Born from the same shapeless mold as many female YA protagonists, Blue possesses no particularly interesting character quirks or emotional hang-ups. Despite her eccentric family of psychics and her super special psychic amplification power, Blue is reduced to the popular YA trope of the everygirl readers can easily project themselves onto. Her relative lack of personality isn't a huge problem, as the majority of the book is told from the perspective of other characters, but the trend she represents bothers me quite a bit.

Blue wasn't enough to stop me from tearing through the book. The Raven Boys was easy to pick up and hard to put down. Stiefvater's prose is quite good, and the plot is doled out at a quick but comfortable pace.

The novel ends on a shoddy sequel hook that is more likely to enrage than pique. Tonally dissonant and completely out of the blue (ha ha ha), a single sentence almost ruined what was otherwise a satisfying conclusion.

Fans of YA romance might be disappointed that the promised kiss-of-death plot plays second fiddle, but if you're willing to forget the synopsis, you'll find a fun modern-day quest narrative riddled with original mythological concepts.

You should also read:

Daughter of Smoke and Bone

Weekly Book Review: How to Train Your Dragon

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell
Released: May 1, 2004
Genre: Juvenile Fiction / Fantasy

Summary:

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was an awesome sword-fighter, a dragon-whisperer and the greatest Viking Hero who ever lived. But it wasn't always like that.

In fact, in the beginning, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was the most put upon Viking you'd ever seen. Not loud enough to make himself heard at dinner with his father, Stoick the Vast; not hard enough to beat his chief rival, Snotlout, at Bashyball, the number one school sport and CERTAINLY not stupid enough to go into a cave full of dragons to find a pet... It's time for Hiccup to learn how to be a Hero.

[From Cressida Cowell's official website.]

Review:

This first novel in Cressida Cowell's How to Train Your Dragon series might take those familiar with the movie by surprise. The novel and its film adaptation share only a few superficial qualities. Yes, the book stars a young Viking named Hiccup who happens to be the village punching bag, he is the son of Stoick the Vast, he's trained by a man named Gobber, and he "befriends" a dragon named Toothless, but aside from these and a few more shared names, the book and its adaptation couldn't be more different. In the movie, Viking society sees dragons as ruthless beasts to be slain for the good of their clan, while the dragons themselves are intelligent and gentle creatures who only fight back to defend themselves. In the book, Vikings have been training dragons for a long, long time. Their dragons differ from the movie's in that they are, for the most part, horrid little beasties, fond of insults and only willing to follow a human's orders out of fear or through some form of bribery.

Toothless in the films.

No character demonstrates the differences between book and movie more than Toothless. As you may have seen in my How to Train Your Dragon movie review, the film version of Toothless is jet black and large enough to be ridden. Toothless is scrappy when he needs to be, but in peaceful times he's a curious and playful companion. Though it takes time and patience for Hiccup to gain Toothless' trust, the dragon seems open to it from the start, and he's extremely protective of his human friend once that trust has been established.

The film's "Terrible Terror" was based on the original Toothless.

Book Toothless, on the other hand, is "extraordinarily small," far too small to fly on. In personality, he's more like a naughty child than an intelligent animal. He's cute, but he's also a bit of a handful, and though his antics can be endearing, for Hiccup, they're quite dangerous. If he can't get his dragon to obey him by the time Final Initiation rolls around, he'll be banished from his tribe. Luckily for readers, Toothless generally sways more toward endearing than annoying, but his whining (this Toothless can speak) grates at times.

Cowell's rendition of Toothless.

For much of How to Train Your Dragon, Toothless is more an obstacle than anything else. The book is more interested in Hiccup's evolution into a Viking Hero than in his relationship with his diminutive dragon. Still, the dragons are fun characters, and their interactions with each other and with their Viking handlers are entertaining.

How to Train Your Dragon the book and How to Train Your Dragon the film are ultimately two different beasts, and it's best to approach each as separate from the other. Both are good on their own merits. The book is lighter fare with lots of action and sprinklings of parody. It's primarily concerned with appealing to children, and I can confidently say that had it been out when I was still part of that age group, I would've read it and its sequels a hundred times over. The movie taps a larger (and older) audience. It's more reserved, though not entirely so, and its humor is more widely spaced. It's a lot less silly, but, again, this is just a symptom of a different audience.

As How to Train Your Dragon is a children's novel, you can expect a quick and simple read. The prose is quite good for its genre, especially in the frame narrative as told by an older and wiser Hiccup. This frame narrative is strangely melancholic in comparison to the boisterous action of the story within, which left me wanting to know what happens between the events of this book and that far off future to so alter its tone. Anyone who's read and enjoyed the first few entries of the Harry Potter series should feel right at home here.

Some of the best parts of the book are its illustrations. One stand-out example is the fictional book How to Train Your Dragon by Professor Yobbish (BA, MA Hons, Cantab. Etc.), reproduced in its entirety. This reproduction includes a cover, a copyright page, a library bar code, an "About the Author" section, the First (and Last) chapter of the book, and the back cover, complete with synopsis, price, and blurbs. It's a great little moment, especially for those of us who've spent a lot of time with academic texts, made even better by the single sentence content of the book itself (shorter even than the summary).

Leave any film-based expectations you might have aside and what you'll find is an enjoyable and often very funny romp through an imaginative world. If it skews too young for you, rest assured that the kids in your life will love its funny, witty antics.

You should also read:

Dealing With Dragons

Weekly Book Review: Saga Volume 1

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

Saga, Volume 1 by Brian K. Vaughn
Illustrated by Fiona Stables
Released: March 2012
Genre: Graphic Novel/Science Fiction/Fantasy

Summary:

When two soldiers from opposite sides of a never-ending galactic war fall in love, they risk everything to bring a fragile new life into a dangerous old universe.

From New York Times bestselling writer Brian K. Vaughan (Y: The Last Man, Ex Machina) and critically acclaimed artist Fiona Staples (Mystery Society, North 40), Saga is the sweeping tale of one young family fighting to find their place in the worlds. Fantasy and science fiction are wed like never before in this sexy, subversive drama for adults.

[From Goodreads.]

Review:

Saga is at once beautiful, touching, funny, dark, and absolutely, totally, 100% insane. From TV-headed robots to cheeky teenage ghosts, Saga walks a thin line between science-fiction and fantasy, but it does so with such confidence that all resulting weirdness seems entirely appropriate for both setting and story. This isn't the sort of story that offers up its oddities with an abundance of exposition meant to make them seem realistic, and it doesn't have to be. It's all totally in line with the story being told.

Some of the book's best moments come from the little interactions between Alana and Marko, the star-crossed lovers who serve as the story's leads. The duo talk and fight like a real couple, though their spats come with a good deal more wit and charm than most real couples could muster. They may be members of two warring alien species that bare suspicious resemblance to mythological creatures (Alana a faerie, Marko a satyr minus the cloven hooves), but their relationship is surprisingly down-to-earth. Most other characters aren't given enough page space to truly shine, at least not yet, but the lives they tease seem worth looking forward to.

Be warned: all isn't humor and charm with Saga. This is an adult series with some very adult themes. It approaches a few dark topics (see: events on a planet called Sextillion), and its action scenes are awash with blood. Sexual content is everywhere (Again, there is a planet called Sextillion. Rest assured that its name has nothing to do with 10²¹.), and it's often just as graphic as its genre would suggest.

Saga barrels along at breakneck speed with nary a pause to catch its breath. Every moment of safety is shortly broken by some unexpected development that sends our protagonists fleeing to the next. While it can get exhausting, the chaos establishes the book's hectic tone to great effect.

A highlight of the series is Fiona Staples' art. Dynamic when need-be and always beautiful, every panel represents its story well. The beautiful cover drew me in, but it was her talent in combination with Brian K. Vaughn's that kept me reading.
My biggest complaint is that this volume was over far too soon. I've already ordered the next two, and barring some unexpected disappointment, I'll eagerly await Volume 4's publication.

You should also read:

Y: The Last Man
Volume 1

Weekly Book Review: The Goblin Emperor

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison
Released: April 1, 2014
Genre: Fantasy

Summary:

"The youngest, half-goblin son of the Emperor has lived his entire life in exile, distant from the Imperial Court and the deadly intrigue that suffuses it. But when his father and three sons in line for the throne are killed in an 'accident,' he has no choice but to take his place as the only surviving rightful heir.

Entirely unschooled in the art of court politics, he has no friends, no advisors, and the sure knowledge that whoever assassinated his father and brothers could make an attempt on his life at any moment.

Surrounded by sycophants eager to curry favor with the naïve new emperor and overwhelmed by the burdens of his new life, he can trust nobody. Amid the swirl of plots to depose him, offers of arranged marriages, and the specter of the unknown conspirators who lurk in the shadows, he must quickly adjust to life as the Goblin Emperor. All the while, he is alone, and trying to find even a single friend . . . and hoping for the possibility of romance, yet also vigilant against the unseen enemies that threaten him, lest he lose his throne—or his life."

[from Katherine Addison's official website.]

Review

Though I loved the first three books of George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, I sometimes can't help but resent their popularity. They seem to have opened the floodgates for the type of grim and gritty fantasies that revel in blood and grit and subversions so commonplace they've metamorphosed into tropes. The lighter fantasies I prefer have been drowned out by Martin's deluge.

It may be that I just haven't been looking in the right places. I'm not always as on top of book releases as I should be, probably because my other media interests take up so much of my brain space. Still, before I started working at the library, every visit to the book store was an exercise in frustration. Most book stores didn't carry the older, less well-known works that might've quenched my thirst for more hopeful fantasy fare. As for those works so famous they've never gone out of print, well, my book shelf spilled over with those years ago.

The Goblin Emperor was a refreshing read. Maia, the titular Goblin Emperor, is the sort of protagonist I love, a kind, thoughtful person who genuinely wants to do good. Doing good is more difficult than it should be, of course. Much of the novel chronicles Maia's attempts to work his will in a system that actively resists it. Maia's only 18, and not used to having any authority at all, much less ruling authority over an entire kingdom. He's grown up away from court, separated from everyone and everything that could have taught him what to do and how to act in highly political situations.

Maia may lack in political know-how, but his general intellect and overflowing empathy make up for it in many ways. It's a testament to the author's skill that Maia never comes across as suffering from "Stupid Hero Syndrome" despite his disadvantages. Even his mistakes are logical. They just operate according to his logic rather than the empire's.

Maybe it's more realistic for the terminally good and the critically naive to succumb to the threats authors like Martin mete out for them, but it's not always that satisfying. Reality is a common sacrifice in the name of a good book, and for good reason. Reality's a little too unpredictable to make a decent narrative devoid of unanswered questions and unfinished character arcs. Maia's journey is not always realistic, but it is fully satisfying.

Those looking for action won't find it here. The majority of the book takes place in conversations and meetings, and the conflicts are driven by character rather than plot. Despite its lack of action, The Goblin Emperor never felt slow. There are few wasted moments in this novel's 446 pages, and it ends well before it's worn out its welcome.

The Goblin Emperor is one of the most enjoyable new fantasies I've read in a number of years. If you've got a taste for court politics but aren't hungry for backstabbing and bloodshed, definitely give this one a try.

You should also read:

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

Weekly Book Review: The Magicians

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Genre: Fantasy / Fiction
Released: 2009

Summary: 

"Quentin Coldwater is a high school senior, but he’s still secretly obsessed with a series of fantasy novels he read when he was little, about the adventures of five children in a magical land called Fillory. Compared to that, everything in his real life just seems gray and colorless. That changes when Quentin finds himself admitted to a very secret, very exclusive college of magic in upstate New York, where he receives a thorough and rigorous education in the practice of modern sorcery.

But magic doesn’t bring Quentin the happiness and adventure and meaning he thought it would—until he and his friends make a stunning [discovery]: Fillory is real. The Magicians is a grand, glittering fantasy that reinterprets the grand tradition of C.S. Lewis and J.K. Rowling in a brilliant novel for adults."

[from Lev Grossman's official website.]

Review: 

The Magicians is a bit of a complicated book for me in that I enjoyed reading it despite a growing list of misgivings. Grossman is a skilled prose stylist, and The Magicians is peppered with beautiful moments. It has its flaws, some glaring, some small matters of personal taste, but it's a worthy read.

The first half of The Magicians may as well be titled Harry Potter and the Undergraduate Education. After a mysterious entrance exam, our protagonist (I won't say hero, because Quentin doesn't live up to the title) is accepted into Brakebills, a university for the magically inclined. Brakebills' curriculum is far more complicated than Hogwarts', as the magic of Quentin's world is a thing of complex theory, mathematics, and arthritis-inducing hand movements. Light on heroic qualities as Quentin may be, none can call him a slouch. Brakebills only accepts the best and the brightest, and for good reason.

The chapters at Brakebills are by far my favorite parts of the book. The magic system is interesting and well-imagined, and the students that populate Brakebills' hallowed halls are complex, fully realized, and very, very broken. Quentin is the worst of them, a vain, spoiled, greedy brat whose malaise and general negativity often intrude on otherwise good scenes. Quentin's awful personality is likely intentional, but The Magicians doesn't always avoid the pitfalls inherent in an unlikeable leading character.

The second half of the book, covering Quentin's graduation from Brakebills and adventures in the Narnian land of Fillory, feels a bit disconnected from the first. It's almost as though The Magicians was two novels slapped together, both with clearly different themes and focal points. That isn't to say the Fillory half is worse than the first, and I'm sure many readers will like it better than Quentin's comparatively aimless journey through the magical education system, but the transition between the two stories is rocky. Still, Fillory is an interesting place, and it wears its darkness a little better than Brakebills does. Had Quentin's Fillory adventures been allowed the breathing room of their very own novel, they may have been more successful overall.

What brings this book down, in my opinion, is its own cynicism. The Magicians clearly scoffs at the rampant idealism of certain entries in the fantasy genre, and it relishes unleashing the potential darkness in lighter stories like Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Narnia. In doing so, though, it loses much of what makes those stories so valuable to their readers without offering up anything of its own. It's sterile and clinical, the hospital hallway to Harry Potter's grand, shifting castle. Even Quentin and friends' delve into Fillory is strangely devoid of magic. The Magicians is a more realistic take on the idea of a magical school and of what would likely happen if a group of irresponsible twenty-something was given access to a magical other realm, but realism is hardly the chief concern of fantasies like Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Narnia, nor should it be. The strength of the genre, at least in my opinion, is its ability to single out and champion universal themes by removing or altering reality's natural roadblocks. The Magicians points to these roadblocks and declares, "Here they are!" as if many fantasy authors, rather than making the conscious choice to scoot around or dismantle them, simply hadn't noticed their existence.

I think The Magicians will be more successful to readers who prefer literary rather than genre fiction, but it is a competent work of fantasy on its own. It may be a dirty, down-to-earth sort of fantasy, but plenty of the genre's fans hunger for such works. Its chief failing is that it leans on other books a little too much when a little more devotion to its own ideas and conceits could have resulted in something even better than it already is.

This review may seem a little negative, so let me restate my opening paragraph: this is an enjoyable book that well deserves your time. It's complicated and a little messy, but that just makes it more interesting to think about after you've turned the last page.

You should also read: 

Wicked

Weekly Book Review: His Majesty's Dragon

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik
Released: March 28, 2006
Genre: Historical Fantasy

Summary:

"Aerial combat brings a thrilling new dimension to the Napoleonic Wars as valiant warriors rise to Britain’s defense by taking to the skies . . . not aboard aircraft but atop the mighty backs of fighting dragons.

When HMS Reliant captures a French frigate and seizes its precious cargo, an unhatched dragon egg, fate sweeps Capt. Will Laurence from his seafaring life into an uncertain future–and an unexpected kinship with a most extraordinary creature. Thrust into the rarified world of the Aerial Corps as master of the dragon Temeraire, he will face a crash course in the daring tactics of airborne battle. For as France’s own dragon-borne forces rally to breach British soil in Bonaparte’s boldest gambit, Laurence and Temeraire must soar into their own baptism of fire."

[From Naomi Novik's official website.]

Review: 

His Majesty's Dragon is the first in a series of books that ask a strange but intriguing question: what would the Napoleonic Wars have been like if both sides had access to an air force comprised of dragons and their riders? The reimagined battles that answer this question are thrilling, but the true strength of the novel lies in its response to a different line of inquiry springing from the main: how would humans and dragons coexist?

The answer is often "adorably."

There's really no other word for it. The relationship between our protagonists, Laurence and Temeraire, is that of two doting and devoted family members, sometimes brothers, sometimes parent and child (with both parties taking each role in turn). They protect each other, they teach each other, and they do all of this while upholding the virtues of politeness and honor as best they can in their war-torn Britain. Temeraire's genteel speech and mannerisms, paired with Laurence's absolute devotion to keeping a stiff upper lip, can only be called adorable.

Approximately this adorable.

This relationship does sometimes get a little too saccharine, and some readers might be more annoyed than charmed by Temeraire's cuddliness. There's tooth and claw ferocity to be found in the battle scenes, but these take up a relatively small section of the book. Those who prefer a bit more Smaug than Toothless in their dragons probably won't find what they're looking for here.

Novik's alternate Earth is an intricate creation, and much of the fun of the book is in discovering the many ways, both large and small, that dragons have redirected the course of history. Novik seems to have done her research, at least from my layman's point of view, and she manages to pile on the detail without interrupting the flow of the plot.

His Majesty's Dragon paces itself well, using plenty of smaller scenes to emphasize Laurence and Temeraire's growing camaraderie rather than relying on set pieces. Those that prefer nonstop action might find themselves disappointed, but readers who like their plot interspersed with character building moments should appreciate Novik's willingness to pause every once in a while. 

You should also read:

Dealing with Dragons

Weekly Book Review: Daughter of Smoke & Bone

Click to find this book in our catalogue.

Daughter of Smoke & Bone by Laini Taylor
Released: September 27, 2011
Genre: Young Adult

Summary:

"Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.  

In a dark and dusty shop, a devil's supply of human teeth grown dangerously low.

 And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war.  

Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she's prone to disappearing on mysterious "errands"; she speaks many languages--not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she's about to find out.

When one of the strangers--beautiful, haunted Akiva--fixes his fire-colored eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?"

[from Laini Taylor's official blog.]

Review:

This book came to me highly recommended by some random strangers on the internet. They lauded its beautiful prose and imaginative mythology, so much so that I went into the book primed for disappointment. Fortunately, Taylor's novel matched those strangers' praises even better than I could have hoped.

There were a few snags at the beginning. I rolled my eyes through initial descriptions of our two main characters and their alien perfections, ready to declare them both Mary Sues. After a weak first impression, however, the star-crossed duo grew on me, and though I was not particularly engaged in their will-they-won't-they love story, I was so enraptured by the rest of the novel that it didn't matter.

Aside from a few genre cliches in regards to certain characters (Akiva especially), the mythology Taylor has built is refreshingly original. The main objects of my fascination were the mysteries surrounding Karou's very strange life experiences. Why had this seemingly normal human girl been raised by monsters like the ram-faced Brimstone and the snake-entwined Issa? What were the eye tattoos on her hands, and why were they there? What lay beyond the door that Brimstone forbade her from opening? Why did Brimstone need the teeth he sent Karou to collect? These questions propel the book along at a steady pace, and the answers doled out are satisfying.

Daughter of Smoke & Bone excels in description, painting both earthly and otherworldly scenes with equal mysticism. In Taylor's capable hands, the streets of Marrakesh are only slightly less interesting than Brimstone's workshop. My only complaint in regards to description--and it's a slim one--is that it can be hard to remember which of a chimaera's body parts are animal and which are human, though considering later revelations in regards to Karou's bestial foster family, this confusion may be completely appropriate.

If you like your world-building intricate and original, and your prose smooth, sweet, and delectable, Daughter of Smoke & Bone and its successors should suit your tastes.

You should also read:

Seraphina