When I first read this series, I mostly dismissed it as romance — back when I felt pretty dismissive of romance in general, I’ll admit. Reading it nowWhen I first read this series, I mostly dismissed it as romance — back when I felt pretty dismissive of romance in general, I’ll admit. Reading it now, I’ve been impressed all over again by the work Zettel did to bring together different Arthurian threads and weave them all into a cohesive story. Reading the end of this book, I kind of want to read her version of how the story plays out.
On the other, I really don’t, because this is a good ending to the story of the four brothers from Gododdin, which lets you imagine they stay happy. And maybe they could, in this version… after all, who could stand against Rhian, Elen, Lynet and Laurel? Forget the men: they’re really the stars of these stories.
In terms of this book alone, I adore how Zettel humanises Agravain, after the rather unflattering portrait of him we get in the other books (apart from the odd moment where his concern and love for his brothers really shows through). And I love the insight on how Arthur and Gawain are both devoted to their whole kingdom, while Agravain only cares about his own land — and that’s why he makes a good king of it.
All in all, a worthwhile series, though if you’re not a fan of romance you probably won’t enjoy them as that is the main thread.
I Am Morgan Le Fay is a young adult novel which tries to give Morgan Le Fay more of a reason for her actions and more psychological depth. It’s reasonI Am Morgan Le Fay is a young adult novel which tries to give Morgan Le Fay more of a reason for her actions and more psychological depth. It’s reasonably successful in that, though it’s not one of my favourite Arthurian stories I’ve ever read — it seems a bit slight, and Morgan’s behaviour and the outcome was entirely obvious. The mythology is a bit of a hotchpotch, but I didn’t mind that too much because it was so lightly touched on. Cernunnos is a character, but it doesn’t really go into the significance of magic and how that’s linked to divinity in their world.
I kind of think I might be able to judge this better once I’ve read I Am Mordred as well, to see how Springer handles Mordred. Mary Stewart manages to excuse Mordred everything while throwing the blame on Morgan, and there’s always blame to go around in Arthurian stories, so I’d kind of like to see where it shifts in this case. Presumably not to Mordred, but to whom?
Camelot’s Sword isn’t my favourite book of the series, because the characters are definitely not my favourite and I think the way they eventually get Camelot’s Sword isn’t my favourite book of the series, because the characters are definitely not my favourite and I think the way they eventually get together is a little too rushed. However, the way Zettel plays with the Arthurian mythos continues to be delightful, from her portrayal of Guinevere to the machinations of Morgaine to Kay’s surprising skill with a sword. Geez, I even love the fact that he’s actually ridiculously tall, because that’s a call-out to the Welsh versions where he was ‘as tall as the tallest tree in the forest’. (My MA dissertation was named after that descriptor, and referenced these books heavily. I think the final title was ‘As Tall as the Tallest Tree in the Forest: The Long Shadow of the Celtic Cai in the Ongoing Arthurian Tradition’ or something like that. Okay, I got the feedback that the title didn’t sound relevant, but I still like it.)
Even though this isn’t my favourite of the series, it has a lot of great moments and character set-pieces, from Kay’s interactions with Gareth to Agravain’s confrontation with Lancelot. Zettel does wonderfully at making me love and care for them all. I might not be convinced Gareth deserves Lynet, but by heck I am convinced he means to do his best by her — and that his brothers will grumble, shout at him, and back him up all the way.
Camelot’s Honour might be my favourite of the quartet, now that I think about it. Okay, Camelot’s Shadow has Gawain, and the clever weaving together oCamelot’s Honour might be my favourite of the quartet, now that I think about it. Okay, Camelot’s Shadow has Gawain, and the clever weaving together of the story of the Green Knight and the story of the Loathly Lady… but this is the most Welsh-inspired book of the quartet, including characters from the Mabinogion and weaving together various strands of mythology which aren’t necessarily Arthurian. I’m not a purist about that; I loved it.
It might not be the most stirring of the love stories, but the quiet strength Elen and Geraint have together is great. He’s the strong and silent type, less susceptible to a pretty face, and a bit less lionised as completely amazing by Zettel, which makes him more interesting.
Maybe I could wish for a few more of the themes of this book, not to mention the characters, to carry through into others of the series. But it’s still great fun.
I’ve read this several times now, and I always go back and forth on it a little. Initially, I think I was a teeeeeny bit ashamed to be caught reading I’ve read this several times now, and I always go back and forth on it a little. Initially, I think I was a teeeeeny bit ashamed to be caught reading something that is a romance in both the modern and the medieval senses of the word. Then I included it in my dissertation and had to think about it critically. And now… now I get to read it just for pure fun. Which is great: it makes me realise how much this version of Gawain is exactly what made me love the character in the first place, and that this retelling of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle’s story was what guided me toward reading and loving the Gawain ballads.
It’s fun, with and without the romance; I love this version of Camelot, which is practical at the same time as romantic. There’s the knights, but there are also Saxon boys staying at the court as hostages. Guinevere is a queen and a figure of romance, but she’s also Arthur’s other half, managing Camelot alongside Kay, maintaining a whole set of duties belonging to queenship. There’s no polite ignorance of the need for an heir: Gawain is openly Arthur’s heir. (And definitely worthy of it; this version of Gawain doesn’t kill women or go on mad rampages yelling for blood. He’s courtly, though human — somewhere between Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Le Morte Darthur‘s least flattering sections.)
And Rhian is a great character too: determined, but not foolhardy; clever, but not infallible; cautious, but not immune to Gawain’s pretty face. Brave, but not insensible.
The two make a great pairing, and it’s a joy to read — as it’s also a joy to read of Arthur and Guinevere’s genuine love.
There are some frustrating aspects to this, like a certain judgemental quality around women who have sex (but not men), and an unfortunate editing slip-up where even when “father” is being used as a name, it isn’t capitalised… but it’s still fun, and I’m glad I got the chance to read it in a relaxed way like this.
Sidenote: I don’t understand why the US version has changed Rhian’s name to Risa. Well, probably to avoid people thinking it’s pronounced “Ryan”, but that doesn’t mean I like the decision — Rhian is a pretty and Welsh name, and it fits much better in the context than “Risa”.
Finally finished my yearly(ish) reread with this book. The conclusion to the sequence is full of its own magic and beauty, but because of the ending, Finally finished my yearly(ish) reread with this book. The conclusion to the sequence is full of its own magic and beauty, but because of the ending, it just can’t be my favourite. (Perhaps in a similar way that The Farthest Shore doesn’t work for me; I don’t like it when the magic comes to an end!)
The whole sequence in the Lost Land is gorgeous, and probably my favourite thing about this book. Then, of course, there’s the interactions between the group – such disparate kids, and brought together for a quest beyond their understanding. As always, Cooper’s handling of the children and the way they react to each other, particularly the Drews, feels spot on and realistic. Of course they’re going to bicker. And of course the Welsh/English divide feeds into it, setting Bran apart. The whole sequence has had history intruding on the present and the present intruding into history; it’s appropriate that that fraught history also touches the story.
Reading it this time, I wasn’t sure about the pacing. It might just be that I want more, more adventures, more of the Six together, but everyone spent so much time in ones or twos rather than together. There’s so much hinted at – Bran’s relationship to Herne the hunter, for just one – that I would love to explore. That’s why I come back to the book, I suppose, and yet…
The formatting of this was less than ideal on my Kindle, since I think it’s a proofing copy and thus there were numberReceived to review via Netgalley
The formatting of this was less than ideal on my Kindle, since I think it’s a proofing copy and thus there were numbers all through the document, and bizarre sections with no paragraph breaks, and all sorts of fun things like that. I did read some of it on my computer, which was better in one way, but not the most comfortable way to read either. In a way, I wish I hadn’t read this now, despite my eagerness for it — there’s a thread of McKillip’s usual enchantment and strangeness here, but I’m pretty sure that some of the odd moments were just caused by the formatting. Not really experienced as the author intended, I think.
I don’t know to what extent I’m typical of the audience for this book. To me, the Arthurian influence was immediately apparent — the Fisher King, some of the names (Vivienne?), the relationship between Sir Leith and Queen Ginevra, the king Arden. The strange ceremony, the issue of someone outside the ritual needing to ask, the grail-like object. Pierce’s story is almost like that of Percival, and yet not always, not quite. At least, not a version I know. It felt all askew, because I know the Arthurian versions so well, and particularly because I really don’t like the Percival story, in general. I don’t like it when he’s Welsh and ignorant, and yet at the same time I don’t like his Welsh background being ignored either. The grail story just loses me entirely, in general, even when it’s closer to the Welsh sources than to Chrétien’s.
On the other hand, I love McKillip’s work a lot. She does magic and enchantment so well, and writes so beautifully. That is certainly in evidence here as much as ever. She makes something interesting and different of the old stories, of the grail-seeking. I felt like the Severluna/Calluna stuff never quite worked itself out fully — it seemed a fairly typical god/goddess dichotomy/conflict, complete with god-obsessed young men making nuisances of themselves to older/feminine magics. I wanted more, something different. Stranger? Stranger is a good word for what McKillip usually manages.
The Stillwater character and what he did was interesting — very classically mythological, and yet fresh too. It took me some time to fit that into the plot, because it’s not an intrinsic part of the Arthurian story — perhaps one reason why someone less familiar with the legends might enjoy this more. I always find myself playing puzzle pieces with Arthurian stories, or even ones that’re just inspired by Arthuriana.
I don’t know how to assess it, at the end of all this. For holding me rapt despite misgivings, I think I’m going to go ahead and give it four stars, “really liked it”. In an ambivalent, intrigued sort of way.
I somewhat put off reviewing The Grey King after finishing reading it, because I’m not sure what there is to say about it anymore. I’ve rhapsodised abI somewhat put off reviewing The Grey King after finishing reading it, because I’m not sure what there is to say about it anymore. I’ve rhapsodised about it at length: the use of mythology, the casual use of the Welsh language, the home-ness of the landscape and the people… The shades of grey and the adult touches when it comes to Owen Davies and John Rowlands, and Will Stanton’s interactions with them. There’s some beautiful passages, especially the section spent in Craig yr Aderyn, and some genuine moments of horror, loss, anger, fear…
And there’s Bran Davies. One of the first Welsh heroes I came across in fiction — at the age of sixteen or so. And he really is Welsh; Welsh-speaking, Welsh-thinking, a part of the Welsh landscape and mythology. But he’s also very human — vulnerable. Angry. Resentful, even. Strange and unhappy and alone. And then his friendship with Will is just lovely, the immediate rapport between them, the ways Will being an Old One damages it, the ways Bran adapts.
And there’s Cafall. All too briefly, but so key to the plot, to Bran.
There’s quite a lot of more adult themes here — quite far from the world of Over Sea, Under Stone, which is almost entirely concerned with Barney, Jane and Simon. There’s Owen’s grief for Gwen; Gwen’s grief at betraying her husband; the jealousy and rivalry between Owen Davies and Caradog Prichard; Arthur’s yearning for connection with his son… And of course, those shades of grey I mentioned. The conversation between John and Will about how the Light will ignore the good of a single person to pursue the greater good, and John’s reaction, really highlights to me that the humans are the real heroes of this series. And the villains, too, because Lords of the Dark choose to become what they are — they aren’t born, like Old Ones.
It’s time for a The Dark is Rising sequence readathon again! If you wish to join, you can do so via this blog. It’s the perfect time of year to rereadIt’s time for a The Dark is Rising sequence readathon again! If you wish to join, you can do so via this blog. It’s the perfect time of year to reread the books, at least the second one in particular, with the winter solstice coming up. I always try and read them around this time of year!
With that said, here goes my millionth (ish) review of Over Sea, Under Stone. I’ve noted before that it’s basically an Enid Blyton adventure/mystery story, with Arthurian trappings. This time through, I noticed a bit more than that; despite the fact that it is much lighter than the later books in tone, for the most part, there are moments of darkness and fear: the moment on the top of the cliff with the standing stones, Barney captured, Barney in the cave, the last few pages before the epilogue… Because of that link to Arthur, because of the figure of Merriman, the seriousness that we see later in the story is still there. The Dark doesn’t go away safely in the way that the criminals always do at the end of a Famous Five book.
I think it’s partly that which makes the books survive for me — under the concerns of the children, there’s that darkness and fear.
Another thing which gets me is how all the people act like people. Jane and Barney and Simon get scared, they get jealous of each other, they puff themselves up and act important… The adults are indulgent, complacent. And then there’s the poetry of the quiet moments, the moon on the water and the quiet dusty attic and… Yeah. Brilliant writing. Not as compelling as the later books, but even here it’s very fine.
Silly story: when I finished The Winter Sea, I thought, darn, I really want a story by Kearsley that is set in Wales, in that landscape, which I love Silly story: when I finished The Winter Sea, I thought, darn, I really want a story by Kearsley that is set in Wales, in that landscape, which I love and feel part of. Because she does a great job with landscape, with the feelings it can invoke, but Scotland or Cornwall aren’t my landscapes.
Then I remembered I had already got a couple of chapters into Named of the Dragon. Suffice it to say that the landscape was satisfactory, and I would probably have felt homesick had I read this when not in Wales. Particularly at the bit with the lovely little chapel, St Govan’s — I’ve meant to go there for a while, because of the Gawain link, and this reminded me.
I’m not sure why I stopped at that point, before; while I adore the Welsh and Arthurian aspects of this book, it might have been the characters that didn’t work for me. Mostly the supporting characters: Elen, with her Arthurian fantasy; Bridget, with her flirtations and lack of remorse over basically planning to cheat on her partner; Christopher, with the general veneer of charm that lacked the warmth of (I couldn’t help but make the comparison) Stuart in The Winter Sea. I enjoy Kearsley’s books, but sometimes the supernatural links are too tenuous for me, or rather, too tenuously explained, too tangential to the actual emotional plot.
Because really, it doesn’t matter if Elen and her baby are really somehow related to Igraine and Arthur. What matters is the main character’s gradual acceptance of her own child’s death, her ability to finally put it aside and belong in the present, and help someone else. It doesn’t matter if Gareth and Lyn are somehow linked back to Gareth and Lynette, because their relationship is all their own anyway (and let’s face it, Lyn’s not half as nasty as Lynette, and this Gareth is at least twice as nasty as Fairhands).
I was glad that the romance wasn’t laid on too thick, here. There’s hope, potential, but nothing certain. If the book had been longer, more would have been okay, but for the length and where the story stopped, it was right to stop at that moment of potential.
I was so eager to read this one, because I love Ishiguro’s writing and I love Sir Gawain, who I knew appears in this book. He’s not actually the main I was so eager to read this one, because I love Ishiguro’s writing and I love Sir Gawain, who I knew appears in this book. He’s not actually the main character (but then, he rarely is), but he is an essential part of the story, which unfolds steadily as you read. There’s a fog drifting across the memories of both Saxons and Britons, keeping them from remembering events both recent and further away; this same fog clouds the memories of an elderly man and his wife, who set out to find their son.
It’s quite a mysterious story, because of that fogginess; things get revealed slowly, things come together piece by piece. I think people who gave up on it, while justified if they weren’t enjoying it, can’t really grasp how this all comes together. There is a point to all of the little conflicts, all the repeated conversations, all the interactions. It ends as a meditation on death, memory, relationships… and to me, it was touching.
I enjoy Ishiguro’s style, and continued to do so here. I don’t really have a quibble with the pacing, because though it lost other people, it seems to work for me. But I can’t get behind this version of Sir Gawain… He’s not too bad in the end, and yet one or two things he does… nope. Not my Gawain.
Okay, generally I find Gemmell’s books to be fairly fun; standard fantasy, with enough interesting characters, twists or references to keep me interesOkay, generally I find Gemmell’s books to be fairly fun; standard fantasy, with enough interesting characters, twists or references to keep me interested. And you’d think this one would be especially so, since it’s basically about King Arthur (albeit as a young boy). Maybe it’s the fact that this was one of the earliest of Gemmell’s books (as far as I can tell from publication dates), but it really, really didn’t work for me. There was that same moreishness about it in some ways, but I kept getting distracted by the tone, which bounced all over the place. Serious teenage crushes to slightly ridiculed slave/master relationships in a single bound… It’s great that there’s a disabled protagonist. It’s great that in that sex scene between him and the slave, she feels that she has control over the situation.
It’s less great that one encounter with the maimed comic relief hero is enough to cure her of her fears and trauma about rape, but that’s a personal bugbear of mine. One good experience doesn’t cancel out one bad experience, people! It’s something like a one-to-five ratio, more like!
Anyway, maybe it was that irreverent tone that got to me. The liberal mixing of mythologies (a guy was a proto-Arthur figure, he was also Ares, there might be a link intended with Cú Chulainn, throw in some Babylonian mythology too, and a dollop of Gemmell’s own mythology as well…) really didn’t work: it’s not that I’m fundamentally opposed to it (hell, if you dig into it, that’s exactly what J.R.R. Tolkien did), but it didn’t work. It felt thrown together.
I’m not gonna read the sequel; it’s due back at the library anyway, and may the next borrower have more joy of it....more
Of all Patricia McKillip's writings, perhaps this one is the most accessible. The short stories seem to have a different tone to her longer works -- sOf all Patricia McKillip's writings, perhaps this one is the most accessible. The short stories seem to have a different tone to her longer works -- something less poetic, more matter of fact. It's a great collection: pretty much all of the stories are strong, and each one contains a whole world -- and each world is so very different from the next. There are some which are more like her novels, and oddly they seem to be ones which people who're fans of her novels like less, based on the review. Maybe it's because a novel may digress, may take time simply being lovely: poetry and short stories have to go right to the heart of it, whatever that heart is. Something that feels a bit too vague and artsy can come up totally inconclusive as a short story: that's how I felt about just a couple of these, particularly 'Xmas Cruise'. On the other hand, the twist and uncertainty in 'Hunter's Moon' works really well -- I'm just not sure that I'm meant to feel so vague about 'Xmas Cruise'. It made me feel like I was missing something.
Most of the time, though, the stories are pretty strong. I wasn't sure about some of them, and then they revealed themselves -- the Arthurian twist in 'Out of the Woods' made me smile, and the way it contrasts the two worlds by laying them side by side, never saying anything explicitly about one or the other world, how they fit together. I think my favourite story was 'Knight of the Well'; McKillip builds up a whole fantasy world, acquaints you wish it, turns it upside down and settles it down again in the space of what's still a pretty short story.
Overall, a great collection; McKillip's way with words remains a strength. The contemporary feel of a couple of these didn't sit that well with me, partly because I was expecting something more olde-worlde, something to match the mythical look of the cover. Other people might find it the best 'in' to McKillip's work they've ever had, though....more
There's still a lot about The Crystal Cave that bothers me, but I think, on balance, I liked it better now than I did the first time I read it. As I'vThere's still a lot about The Crystal Cave that bothers me, but I think, on balance, I liked it better now than I did the first time I read it. As I've said, it's Misogynistic Merlin, which is my least favourite flavour -- you have some clear-headed, quick-thinking, powerful women, but then you have lines like this: "Duchess and slut alike, they need not even study to deceive." And the whole bit about weak female magic and Merlin needing to be a virgin and blahblahblah. Could definitely have done without that.
Still, not having recently read Sword at Sunset, or anything else of Rosemary Sutcliff's, this managed to have something of that flavour without the narration, and the characterisation of Ambrosius, being too much overshadowed by Sutcliff. I know for sure which one is the better book, and which one I enjoy more, but this doesn't stand up so badly when it's not right up against something by a master like Sutcliff. I got more into the relationships this time, though I wish Merlin didn't leave such a trail of servant characters dead in his wake. I liked Cerdic, liked Cadal; their deaths because of their faith in Merlin were pretty hard to take. I know he does acknowledge a measure of that but still, gah. The relationship between Merlin and Ambrosius really does work, though, the slow realisation of what's going on there, and their closeness. Also the fact that Merlin isn't forced to be a warrior (though that makes the ending, where he is, doubly odd).
The mix of magic and science here is a little weird. The standing stones are raised using math, but the prophecy really is second sight; the dragons are just symbols, but the vision is real. It's like a step between out-and-out fantasy and realism. There's nothing wrong with that, I suppose, but I tend to prefer things that go at it a bit more unequivocally! If Merlin can see the future, why is there no other magic in the world?
Anyway, I'm going on to the other books now, though I seem to recall from summaries there's more flavours of misogynistic Merlin awaiting me....more
I wasn't sure how I'd feel about this one when I requested it. On the one hand, I love Arthuriana and I have enjoyed several loose interpretations of I wasn't sure how I'd feel about this one when I requested it. On the one hand, I love Arthuriana and I have enjoyed several loose interpretations of it, even humorous/light-hearted ones. On the other hand, I'm not very good at humour myself, and can be a bit snooty about anything that messes too much with my views on Arthuriana.
It turns out, I really enjoyed it, and read it in pretty much one go. I love that while there is humour, it's pretty gentle: it doesn't single out any character as a laughing stock, and the characters aren't there just to be laughed at. They're still people, with goals of their own, and they're likeable people at that I somewhat feared Sir Humphrey would just be a laughable oaf, but he turns out to be a good guy even if he doesn't subscribe to the kind of honour culture the Round Table stands for.
It is all very modern and anachronistic: there's customs officials between the kingdoms, for example, for the sake of absurdity. There's also pretty liberal views on LGBT people, including a knight who prefers to be called Gwendoline, and a gay relationship driving part of the plot.
All in all, it's fun, and I'm really glad I read it. The tone is maybe reminiscent of Gerald Morris, albeit for adults, but otherwise it's quite a fresh take on the idea of Camelot....more
Silver on the Tree combines all the best of the other books of the sequence: the magic, the genuine moments of terror and alarm, the weaving of legendSilver on the Tree combines all the best of the other books of the sequence: the magic, the genuine moments of terror and alarm, the weaving of legends and the everyday, the mysteries that leave you to wonder, the sense of place... And more than any of the others it combines both sadness and joy; in that, it's the most adult of the sequence.
I especially enjoy little touches like Bran getting to meet Owain Glyndŵr; one thing I did miss was Barney not having more of a reaction to actually meeting King Arthur who he's idolised since before the first page of the first book. I can't remember having noticed it before, but that jarred me, this time. Also, I remember someone mentioning to me how much it bothered them that this book plays into the betrayal of a woman theme (as does The Dark is Rising, in the form of Maggie Barnes, "a sweet face" to lure people into the Dark). Thinking about it this time, I see their point, even though the White Rider is otherwise ambiguously gendered. It's as if women can somehow hide their allegiance to the Dark behind womanly charms, where the men are immediately picked out (Mr Mitothin doesn't fool Will for a moment; Maggie Barnes, however, has to act wickedly to get him to realise, and "Blodwen Rowlands" fools John entirely until the very end).
We do have some great female characters in these books -- the Lady and Jane, mainly, with Will's sisters, mother and aunt and other such minor characters -- but it's a bit nasty that the alluring side of the Dark is pretty unambiguously female.
Still, that's not enough to ruin the books, and nor is it suggested as something all women could/would do. It's just something that may bother you, particularly if you forget how old these books are.
I think I've ended my reviews of this book with this quotation before, but it's still true. The book ends with a call to arms to all of us, to stop relying on anyone else to change the world and know that we are, alone, responsible for our own choices.
"For Drake is no longer in his hammock, children, nor is Arthur somewhere sleeping, and you may not lie idly expecting the second coming of anybody now, because the world is yours and it is up to you."
Greenwitch isn't really my favourite book of the series, though it is the one with the most mystery -- I wonder a lot about the background mythology, Greenwitch isn't really my favourite book of the series, though it is the one with the most mystery -- I wonder a lot about the background mythology, the legends of Cornwall that the Greenwitch brings to life and what lies behind each glimpse of part of a story. It occurred to me last night while reading that maybe Susan Cooper has come closer than Tolkien to a "mythology for England". Granted, he's closer if you're looking at England as "the land under the rule of the Anglo-Saxons", but Cooper has touched on the legends of the land, the real stories that matter, rather than inventing a quest and a ring. Her quests come organically out of the mythology she's using, and the places where she joins on her own are pretty seamless.
(Tolkien has created a world of his own, I think, and people often put too much emphasis on the "mythology for England" stuff. I don't mean to do that: whether or not he meant to achieve that, what he achieved in the end was great. I just think the idea of a mythology for England is maybe actually achieved by Cooper.)
Greenwitch also features one of the things I love most about this series -- the characters. They're people. Simon and Barney are good-hearted boys who get jealous and possessive when another boy of a similar age seems to encroach on their time and their friends. Captain Toms, an Old One of the Light, gets laid low by gout. And I liked that the Dark is personified in a single character, this one time -- not as the tide of the Dark, but as a single man of the Dark. We see hints of individuality there; his bitterness when he says "I have no friends", his genuine artistic talent. It's another of those moments where I think the black/white Dark/Light dichotomy cracks a little.
There are also some gorgeous passages in this book about the beauty and danger of the sea, the amoral and uncaring world of the Wild magic (and then, again, that hint of the Greenwitch as a child, as a lonely creation in need of something to hold on to, of kindness)....more
It'll surprise no one who knows me that I'm rereading this set of books at this time of year: Over Sea, Under Stone is more of a summer book, I supposIt'll surprise no one who knows me that I'm rereading this set of books at this time of year: Over Sea, Under Stone is more of a summer book, I suppose, but the one most rooted in a particular time of year is The Dark is Rising, the second book, in winter. (The runner-up would be The Grey King, set in the autumn around Samhain.) So I imagine that a few more reviews of these books will be added to my total before the end of the year...
I read Over Sea, Under Stone in one go, this time. There are still a couple of things that bother me, aside from the Enid Blyton-esque tone of the boys-own-adventure stuff. Like, why would Merriman leave them alone up on top of the hill? Why wouldn't he ask more questions about who is attacking them? Why --
But it's probably best not to ask those questions of this book, the earliest and least subtle. There are many subtle touches which I love later in the sequence, but this book is decidedly less mature. Which is not to say that it doesn't have some very powerful sections: the last two chapters have an unbearable build up of tension that gets to me even at twenty-four years old. Mostly, I love that the characters feel real, squabble and support each other and have fears and weaknesses like real kids, real siblings. Simon's such a superior brat, but he's the more real for it. Jane's a little bit stereotyped, I think: she's more easily frightened than the other two, carries around "practical" things like a roll of cotton (but no mention of a sewing kit of any kind?), isn't interested in male pursuits like fishing and sailing, etc. But even that isn't so bad -- she's not Blyton's Anne or George, but something closer to a rounded individual.
(Has anyone written an essay where each member of the Famous Five reflects a facet of a single psyche, or something? Because I just came up with that idea on the spot, and I'm too lazy to explore it myself.)
And, finally? Barney's "cleversticks" is still the best pseudo-insult ever....more
Obviously, when I saw this in the library, I couldn't pass it up. It's Arthurian, it's a graphic novel, and it's not just a straight retelling of the Obviously, when I saw this in the library, I couldn't pass it up. It's Arthurian, it's a graphic novel, and it's not just a straight retelling of the original stories. To me, that's actually a good thing as long as it hangs together, and this more or less did. I think the main problem is that there's far too much of the Arthurian legend to reduce into a single volume. Either you have to pick something particular to focus on, or you have to take your time. This felt a bit rushed. (On that score, there's a rushed quality to the art, but mostly I quite liked it.)
I'm not really sure what to think of how they put this together, which sources they used or ignored. The whole Vivianne thing was a little confusing to me, as Nimue and Vivianne are meant to be the same person.
It's hard to believe in deep enduring love when it takes about two pages to set up, if you're lucky, so emotionally this story didn't really work for me. I don't know if Arthur will ever transfer well into comic book form (though this now makes me tempted to make my comic for my class be based on Arthuriana), but this is a good effort. Apparently the same people did a Robin Hood comic as well, and I'm willing to bet that worked out better -- Robin Hood ballads were the comics of their day!...more
I was curious about this when I saw it on Netgalley, since this is obviously my area of expertise. (Well, obvious to anyone who knows me well enough tI was curious about this when I saw it on Netgalley, since this is obviously my area of expertise. (Well, obvious to anyone who knows me well enough to have followed my academic interests... so not quite obvious, really.) It's a fairly broad overview of the tradition, and therefore correspondingly shallow, but useful enough for a beginner, and illustrated with various different paintings, stills, etc, that relate to the content.
Mersey and I don't always agree on the important points about any given text, but that's to be expected.
I'd probably give this a higher star rating if I were a casual reader, but all my ratings are according to personal enjoyment, so I won't give it more....more
