First up: Andrew Peterson's Wingfeather Saga.
Overall: 9.3
These books are so good that, as you can see, I had to invent a whole new feature for the site so I'd have an excuse to review them. The plot - particularly in North - is exciting from start to finish, the structure and language are delightfully clever, and the characters are richly drawn and endearing. And all the while, Peterson imbues his saga with an undeniably Christian imagination. These books are, without a doubt, triumphs of Christian youth fantasy. I can't wait to read the next book in the series!
AR Grade Level: Unknown
Suggested Age Range: 10+
Some of the nuances may be missed by younger readers.
Plot Synopses:
On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness
(Adventure. Peril. Lost Jewels. And the Fearsome Toothy Cows of Skree.)
The three Igiby children - Janner, Tink (or Kalmar, his true name), and Leeli - live a comfortable, happy life in the Glipwood Township with their grandfather Podo, their mother Nia, and their dog Nugget -- comfortable, that is, as long as you ignore the fearsome presence of the lizard-like Fangs of Dang, who rule the land of Skree with an iron fist. Under the rule of the Fangs, the citizens of Skree are not permitted to arm themselves - indeed, they must ask permission before using ordinary farming implements - and they live with the constant fear that their children will be stolen away in the night by the Black Carriage to serve Gnag the Nameless, the great evil that threatens all of Aerwiar.
Still, the children try to snatch what pleasure they can. At the start of this novel, for example, Janner and his siblings are eagerly awaiting the start of the annual Dragon Day Festival, held to celebrate the gathering and singing of the great sea dragons who inhabit the Dark Sea of Darkness. On the day of the festival, however, Leeli and Nugget run afoul of a Fang, thus touch-starting a series of events that includes the discovery of a secret cache of weapons in Anklejelly Manor north of Glipwood, a furious battle with the Fangs themselves, and the eventual destruction of Glipwood itself. Podo, Nia, and the children are forced to flee to the safety of Peet the Sock Man's tree house in the middle of Glipwood Forest, where the children learn a terrible and wonderful truth: that they are what remains of the royal family of Anniera, the Shining Isle across the Dark Sea of Darkness that many in Skree have dismissed as a fantasy.
North! Or Be Eaten
(Wild Escapes. A Desperate Journey. And the Ghastly Grey Fangs of Dang.)
This novel - the second in the Wingfeather Saga - picks up right where Dark Sea left off with Podo, Nia, and the Igiby children hiding in a tree house in the monster-infested Glipwood Forest. As noted above, the children have just learned their true identities as the heirs to the Kingdom of Anniera. They have also learned that the half-mad Peet, who is sheltering them from both the Fangs and the forest's toothy wild life, is in fact Artham P. Wingfeather, Throne Warden of Anniera (protector of the High King). It is Artham's position that will pass on to Janner, the eldest, when Anniera is reclaimed. Tink, the second son, is the heir to the throne itself.
Eventually, the Fangs discover the family's hideout, and they are forced to continue their flight north to the Ice Prairies, where a resistance movement is rumored to be gathering. In this, they are joined by Oskar Reteep, Glipwood's bookseller, who fled from his hideout in the remains of Glipwood to warn the Igiby family of the Fangs' approach. Their first destination on the journey is Dugtown, the impoverished town located across the Blapp River from the wealthy city of Torrboro -- but to get there, they must contend with a dangerous rockroach (here, they lose Artham), fight Fangs on their way across the ancient Miller's Bridge (here, they lose Nugget), and traverse Strander country, where anarchy reigns. Once in Dugtown, the Igiby family is separated in another altercation with the Fangs, and Podo, Nia, Oskar, and Leeli are force to proceed to the Ice Prairies without Janner or Tink.
In the midst of all of this perilous adventure, Tink has begun to sour on his identity as the High King of Anniera, and as soon as he has an opportunity, he runs from Janner, hoping to join the Stranders and enjoy their lives of total irresponsibility. The Stranders, however, lock Tink up and deliver him to the Fangs. As Janner desperately searches for his little brother, he too is captured, but by desperate Dugtown parents who wish to trade him for their own children, who have been imprisoned in the Fork! Factory. Janner endures many days of drudgery and punishment in the Fork! Factory before he manages to escape. Proceeding at once to Strander territory, he discovers Tink's fate. Devastated, Janner heads to the refuge of the Ice Prairies with the help of a Strander girl, as he is left with no other options.
Meanwhile, off the coast of Skree, the Fangs are assembling a hardier army to confront the resistance in the Ice Prairies. It is here that the Fangs bring Artham and Tink. Artham, apparently, has been imprisoned and broken by the Fangs before, which likely explains why he teeters on the edge of madness -- and also why he has talons instead of hands. The Fangs lock Artham in a cage and force him to watch as child after child is hypnotized and subsequently transformed into Fangs of a wolf-like variety (Fangs better suited to the cold). Among these children is Tink. When Tink is led into the box in which the above described transformation takes place, Artham, desperate, cries out to his long dead brother for help, transforms into a birdman with magnificent wings, and breaks free of his prison. He snatches Tink from the clutches of the Fangs, but by this point, Tink has already been changed into a Grey Fang.
Artham meets up with the rest of the family on the Ice Prairies. A pitched battle is fought between the forces of the resistance and the Grey Fangs -- a battle fought in order to ensure the safe conveyance of the Igiby clan to a waiting boat which will take them across the Dark Sea of Darkness to Anniera. Once on the sea, however, Podo must face the sins of his past -- and Janner must fight to bring Tink back to himself.
Characterization: 9.0
The characters here are all lovable, believable people; the children feel like real children, and the adults are fascinating in their complexity. Speaking for myself, I have to say that I was especially drawn to the characterization of Peet the Sock Man, otherwise known as Artham P. Wingfeather. Artham's essential goodness, which shines even through his madness, definitely hits one of my buttons. As such, the mystery of Artham's life from the fall of Anniera to his appearance in Glipwood is something I definitely want to learn more about. How did he fall into the clutches of the Fangs the first time? What did the Fangs do to convince Artham to sing the transformation song halfway through? What ultimately shattered Artham's mind? Was it the partial transformation, or did it happen before then?
I suppose my only complaint - and its a teeny one given the overall quality of this saga so far - is that Leeli, the youngest Igiby, has yet to play a major role in the story, her conversation with the sea dragons aside. Perhaps this is yet to come, but for now, while I have a very deep understanding of Janner's psychology and a pretty good understanding of what makes Tink tick, my understanding of Leeli is far more hazy. Let's give the girl a little more air time, shall we?
Plot/Pacing: 9.0
Dark Sea, as the set-up novel, scores an 8.0, but North is an absolute perfect 10.0. I started reading North on a Thursday morning before I headed out to work and was heartbroken to have to put it down to earn a living. Imagine my delight when, upon returning home, I discovered that my co-author had inadvertently published his Friday review a day early, leaving me free to spend the rest of the night devouring North until I was finished.
I believe even reluctant readers will be drawn in by the high adventure and humor in these novels. Peterson's bite-sized chapters keep the plot going at a rapid pace -- and incidentally make these books excellent read-aloud options for parents.
Concepts/Themes: 10.0
Actually, I'm tempted to give these books an 11.0, but I don't want to overdo it.
When I look at the ideas behind these novels, the first thing that leaps out at me right away is Peterson's silly, child-like sense of humor. The titles alone are a draw for any reader who, like yours truly, loves things that are slightly cracked -- and more delights can be found within. Consider, for example, the source of the name "Aerwiar." As Peterson relates to us early in Dark Sea, when the first couple became conscious after their creation, the first man is said to have remarked, "Well, here we are." Centuries of blurring and distortion later, the peoples of Peterson's fantasy world call their planet "Aerwiar." Also cute are Peterson's seeming obsession with conjuring up an endless list of hideous - and toothy! - monsters and his footnotes, which inform us of Mayor Blaggus' unfortunate inability to curb his nose-picking habit, of the recipe for "booger gruel" (a Fang favorite), and of the poet who first popularized "ba-dump, ba-dump pentameter," among other things large and small. On the whole, I believe these novels are expertly written to suit the often goofy imaginations of young readers. Peterson is clearly a kid at heart.
Woven in with all the playfulness, however, is a profoundly moral and subtly Bible-grounded story. It's telling to note, for instance, that in the Eden-like Kingdom of Anniera, it is the second son, not the first, who is destined to be the High King. Any student of the Old Testament should recognize at once the Biblical parallels, particularly in the stories of Jacob and Esau and Joseph and his older brothers. In Judeo-Christian tradition, it is frequently the youngest and weakest who are chosen to receive the birthright; as St. Paul puts it, this is God's way of "confounding the wise."
Throughout Dark Sea and North, four major themes emerge, all of them inspired by Judeo-Christian tradition. First of all, there is an emphasis on service. When Janner chafes at the charge to watch over his younger siblings, Grandfather Podo sets him straight at once:
"Blood was shed that you three might breathe the good air of life, and if that means you have to miss out on a Zibzy game, then so be it. Part of being a man is putting others' needs before your own."
As Janner evolves as a character, we see him gradually take these words to heart. When his siblings fall into danger, Janner feels the burden of his role instantly. Granted, he is not perfect -- he is still a child, after all. Sometimes, as when Tink runs away to join the Stranders, he temporarily allows childish resentment to get the better of him. But by the end of North at the very least, he has become mature enough to accept the great responsibility that comes with being a Throne Warden of Anniera -- a responsibility that often involves hardship and sacrifice:
Without a thought, Janner tore off his coat and ran. His heart's deepest instinct drove him forward and over the ship's rail to save his brother. As soon as he hit the water, the world became a frigid, airless black. To cold to think, he grabbed a handful of fur and pulled it near. Claws raked his skin. He felt Tink's teeth again and again, but he held his brother close. When every desperate gasp filled his lungs with water, he hugged the Fang to himself with all his strength. The sea turned red with Janner's blood. The last thing he knew was Artham's strong taloned hands. He felt himself lifted on mighty wings from the blackness to light, from silence to sound. And though his wounds were deep and bled freely, though Tink still fought to escape his embrace, in Janner's heart burned great joy.In North in particular, Peterson contrasts this joy found in service with the dissolution and inhumanity of its opposite, especially in his depiction of the Stranders, who rove about the hinterlands in very loosely knit gangs doing and taking whatever they wish. Strander leaders feel no sense of responsibility for their followers -- not even their own children, who live in a constant state of filth, fear, and family breakdown. The supposed freedom that attracts Tink to the Strander territories - and ultimately to his downfall - is in fact an illusory freedom marked by brutality, not rapture. Here, I am reminded of the writings of Pope John Paul II, which emphasized over and over again the difference between freedom and license. Freedom is living in accordance with God's law on behalf of others; license, a selfish attachment to sin that has incontrovertibly harmed the modern family and made our society less pleasant and less civil.
The second theme to emerge in the saga is an acknowledgment of the value of suffering. This theme becomes especially apparent when we look at Janner's travails in the Fork! Factory in North. Because Janner has a sense of his true identity - of his true destiny - he refuses to be worn down by the cruelties of the factory like the other children. Indeed, he repeatedly violates the rules, and is thrown into a coffin-like box as punishment for his impudence. At first, Janner almost loses his mind to claustrophobia; eventually, however, enduring the box allows Janner the chance to focus his thoughts and truly examine his soul:
He was trapped in a place where all he had was himself, and though he'd never thought of himself as a bad person, every motive, thought, and action that paraded through the blackness told him otherwise. Even his alliance with Sara Cobbler was driven by selfishness. It was true he hoped to help her escape, that he wanted badly for her to be free -- but would he be willing to set her free if it meant he had to stay? He was ashamed of the answer. All his justifications - that he was a Throne Warden, that he had to keep Tink safe, that somehow he and his brother and sister might help to keep the dream of Anniera alive - all of it was meaningless if he thought himself somehow worthier of being set free...Comfort makes us complacent in our faults, but pain drives us to seek a change in ourselves. That is its purpose - its reason for existing.
Third, as already mentioned above, Peterson spends a lot of time examining what it truly means to be free -- and one thing that he makes crystal clear is that freedom does not equal comfort. Back in Glipwood, the Igiby children led relatively happy lives despite the subjugation of their homeland, but over and over again, the narrative rejects the idea that the simple delights of Glipwood are worth living under the tyranny of the Fangs or abandoning the dream of Anniera. When, for example, Podo expresses doubts as to their mission, Oskar Reteep's responds with the following:
"I tell you, old friend, I'd rather be stuck here in a Strander burrow than blowing smoke rings in Glipwood, where the Fangs spit and howl and kill our spirits. At least we're here because we choose to be. We're here out of bravery, not cowardice."We are meant to be more than well-fed, caged animals, says Peterson. In fact, we are meant for Heaven, which Anniera represents. As such, we should never settle for satisfying our appetites; instead, we should strike out for distant shores and rise to the challenge of God's calling. If we fail in heeding that call and succumb to temptation, we, like Tink, will lose our basic humanity.
Fourth, though there is much in Aerwiar that is dark and dangerous, Peterson's story pulses with a sense of trust in the mercy of Providence. We see this in the way Janner persists in his attempts to find the real Tink within the Grey Fang that Tink becomes, praying to the Maker all the while. We also see this in the family's attitude regarding Aerwiar itself. In one powerful passage from North, Nia and Oskar teach the children that the Maker's creation is filled with unacknowledged magic:
"It is only when we have grown too old that we fail to see that the Maker's world is swollen with magic -- it hides in plain sight in music and water and even bumblebees."In a world in which Fangs and toothy cows and horned hounds and the like all threaten one's life and limb, this is indeed a profound expression of faith and hope.
"I have seen many things, child," said Nia, and a faraway look came into her eyes. "Wonderful things. The old stories might call it magic, but I call it beauty. I might even call it love."
"Of all creatures, you should know that the darkness is seldom complete, and even when it is, the pinprick of light is not long in coming -- and finer for the great shroud that surrounds it."
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