While my sister recovers from getting blasted by fifteen kids trying to pass the SATs or apply for colleges (yes...it's that time of year again!) - I will step in and offer my own attempt at a lit review. I've just finished reading Daniella Bova's first publication - and its quite a window into the process of honing one's craft as a writer (and an excellent reason why independent publishing is neither the end of great literature, nor an easy thing to do). I'll explain what I mean in a moment.
First a brief synopsis (without giving too much away - her Amazon link is here)
Tears of Paradox takes place in the not-too-distant future in suburban Philadelphia (roughly 2025-2030) and depicts a sort of 'worst case scenario' unwinding of the Constitution as viewed by ordinary people whose primary concerns are raising families and living ordinary lives unmolested by the powers that be. It follows Jason Wallace and his wife Michelle through their courtship, marriage, and hardships as an increasingly heavy-handed federal healthcare bureaucracy chisels away at their prosperity, security, and even their very lives and the lives of their families. If you're a member of the intelligentsia, you probably won't recognize these characters, but if you spent time around military personnel, blue collar workers, or farmers, you'll instantly know exactly about whom you're reading. Jason and his close friend and brother and law Brad spend their high school and college days blissfully unaware of anything in the world at large beyond their latest escapades with the ladies or their next fishing trip. But as they each fall for the love of their lives and discover the responsibilities of marriage and family, the encroachment of aggressive federal power sets off in each of them an internal struggle between their desire to do right by their families, and their desire to fight back against the waning of their freedoms.
As a character study, this is a powerful tome - albeit, incomplete (for reasons I've discussed with the author herself). Daniella has, without any formal study, intuitively grasped word choice and characterization so well that within the first several pages of 'Tears', I was hooked, and I stayed hooked despite the unconventional (and some would say flawed) plot construction, enduring a mighty eyestrain headache to finish the book in about 8 hours of reading over a weekend. I cared immensely for these people almost instantly. It is a credit to her, that the author managed to make a Tolstoy-esque "deconstruction" story into a bit of a page turner despite the notable lack of car chases and shootouts. :) This is a deeply introspective, philosophical work, but it is propelled along by truly inspiring characters and a tone that perfectly captures the feeling of liberty-minded Americans today...a creeping sense of dread.
By the way, this is also a distinctly Catholic story - many of the characters come to their faith more and more as society crumbles, but it all revolves around Michelle's faith and the influence of that faith on her loved ones, especially her husband. Daniella gets the spiritual messages just right, IMHO, and I strongly identify with Jason's struggle to remain true to his emerging Catholicism despite the constant temptation to lash out at those who would strip him of his right to worship.
Impressive that I considered this a page-turner 95% of the time I was reading it despite the fact that the very nature of this story is for it to be a soul-crushing GRIND. I kid you not when I say that things just get harder and harder and HARDER to push through for the characters, and you, as a reader, will absolutely feel that.
I think the story could have done with some aggressive editing for flow, plot construction, and pacing. It lacks a beginning/middle/end, and key turning points for the characters thus wind up feeling like just another scene when they really shouldn't. There are also sections of the narrative that are a bit "nested" - you start following one scene and then the character digresses into another related memory...and from there into another, and you want to follow them all, because they all offer something important, but there were a few places where this nested delivery made me put the book down for a minute to think. On top of that, you read through the story expecting things to build to a dramatic climax and that never really happens. And many things that are built up during Michelle's telling of her story from the future perspective are not paid off. This is evidently because the original draft included events from this first book and the second - which will be released in December of 2014 (pending any delays she might encounter). I think the story itself could be a slam-dunk best seller if some hard choices were made as to which memories and anecdotes were crucial to the plot and which were just 'nice to have' - and if the plot was ordered in an easier-to-follow classic dramatic sequence, but for a first-time effort, I was nonetheless impressed with the level of world-building and character insight Daniella possessed.
With that in mind, your milage may vary as to whether you find the tale frustrating or engaging (it was a little of both for me, but I plan to stick with it through book 2 because of the characters...they're that real and likable to me).
Now, what did I mean at the start of this review? Like Jason in the book, not everyone is built to prefer formal education as their way of learning new skills, and not every writer is going to find their voice and master their craft by sitting and listening to professors pontificate as to what is "story". Often, the best way to learn is to just sit down and do it, and then get feedback from your would-be audience. Indy publishing offers aspiring authors the chance to have their material read by critical eyes and start the process of maximizing their potential, and it produces books like these that would be turned down by publishing houses without major revisions, but that are a window into a major talent...a talent that is far more likely to grow and produce something truly memorable and astounding through independent publication and feedback than through classroom education or no-feedback rejections by publishing houses that are necessarily focused on maintaining classic narrative structure and selling books in the here and now, rather than developing talent. And, of course, if you are going to self-publish, you have to be willing to accept criticism and keep developing, which, I assure you, is not an easy thing to do. I sincerely hope Daniella keeps writing - I believe she has something amazing to offer us if she sticks with it and masters her craft.
Final Verdict: Personally recommended, but your milage may vary
Showing posts with label christian genre lit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christian genre lit. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Christian Genre Lit: Infinite Space, Infinite God Vol. I (Karina & Robert Fabian, ed.)
Why is the military a dominant presence in many stories of space exploration?
This was a question discussed at a panel at Dragon Con a few years ago -- and in the end, we boiled the explanation down to history and practicality. The military is often featured in science fiction because, in the real world, our earliest astronauts were pulled from the armed forces -- and our earliest astronauts were pulled from the armed forces because they already had the training and emotional wiring required to undertake those crazy-dangerous first missions.
Space is perilous and unforgiving; consequently, anyone in the vanguard of, say, a colonization effort would have to have either an above-average love of risk or a personal ethic that places certain greater goods above the instinct for self-preservation. Pioneer groups would also have to be highly disciplined and tightly-knit to overcome the initial challenges presented by a new world; in an environment that could kill the inattentive, it would hardly do to waste time bickering. Considering these specifications, the military is a natural fit.
But is the military the only extant organization that can handle the challenges outlined above? Are there other groups that fit the same bill? Indeed yes! Self-abnegation, discipline and unity of purpose are also the key identifying features of monastic orders. Is it any wonder, then, that since that panel, I've been harboring a strong desire to see monks and nuns in space?
When a conversation at CPAC reminded me of the aforementioned desire a few months ago, I published a general request for works that combine science-fictional ideas with religious traditionalism -- and that is how Karina and Robert Fabian's Infinite Space, Infinite God
came to my attention. Infinite Space is an anthology of science fiction stories that specifically tackle Catholic themes; if, like me, you are fascinated by that particular juxtaposition, you should give Infinite Space a try.
I will be honest, though: not all of the stories in this collection impressed me equally. Some of the selections felt clunky and amateur, either because they failed to convey the necessary background information in a graceful manner or because their messages overwhelmed other critical elements of storytelling, which is a sin even when my side does it (see also: my previous post). At the same time, however, this anthology also contains many stories that are absolutely wonderful and wholly worthy. I immediately connected to the missionaries and the world depicted in Colleen Drippe's Brother John, for instance -- and Our Daily Bread (by Karina and Robert Fabian) depicts a Eucharistic miracle in an admirably balanced way and is neither maudlin nor heavy-handed.
When I discussed this anthology with my father the other day, he reminded me of Sturgeon's Law: "Ninety percent of anything is crap." Well, Infinite Space, even with its flaws, still beats these odds by a comfortable margin. That makes it a pretty good collection on the whole -- even if there's still room for improvement.
Final Verdict: Recommended, But With Notes.
This was a question discussed at a panel at Dragon Con a few years ago -- and in the end, we boiled the explanation down to history and practicality. The military is often featured in science fiction because, in the real world, our earliest astronauts were pulled from the armed forces -- and our earliest astronauts were pulled from the armed forces because they already had the training and emotional wiring required to undertake those crazy-dangerous first missions.
Space is perilous and unforgiving; consequently, anyone in the vanguard of, say, a colonization effort would have to have either an above-average love of risk or a personal ethic that places certain greater goods above the instinct for self-preservation. Pioneer groups would also have to be highly disciplined and tightly-knit to overcome the initial challenges presented by a new world; in an environment that could kill the inattentive, it would hardly do to waste time bickering. Considering these specifications, the military is a natural fit.
But is the military the only extant organization that can handle the challenges outlined above? Are there other groups that fit the same bill? Indeed yes! Self-abnegation, discipline and unity of purpose are also the key identifying features of monastic orders. Is it any wonder, then, that since that panel, I've been harboring a strong desire to see monks and nuns in space?
When a conversation at CPAC reminded me of the aforementioned desire a few months ago, I published a general request for works that combine science-fictional ideas with religious traditionalism -- and that is how Karina and Robert Fabian's Infinite Space, Infinite God
came to my attention. Infinite Space is an anthology of science fiction stories that specifically tackle Catholic themes; if, like me, you are fascinated by that particular juxtaposition, you should give Infinite Space a try.I will be honest, though: not all of the stories in this collection impressed me equally. Some of the selections felt clunky and amateur, either because they failed to convey the necessary background information in a graceful manner or because their messages overwhelmed other critical elements of storytelling, which is a sin even when my side does it (see also: my previous post). At the same time, however, this anthology also contains many stories that are absolutely wonderful and wholly worthy. I immediately connected to the missionaries and the world depicted in Colleen Drippe's Brother John, for instance -- and Our Daily Bread (by Karina and Robert Fabian) depicts a Eucharistic miracle in an admirably balanced way and is neither maudlin nor heavy-handed.
When I discussed this anthology with my father the other day, he reminded me of Sturgeon's Law: "Ninety percent of anything is crap." Well, Infinite Space, even with its flaws, still beats these odds by a comfortable margin. That makes it a pretty good collection on the whole -- even if there's still room for improvement.
Final Verdict: Recommended, But With Notes.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Middle Grade & Young Adult Corner: The Monster in the Hollows (Wingfeather Saga, Book 3), by Andrew Peterson
Note: Click here if you need a refresher on the previous two novels. ;)
Overall: 9.3
If we could just get Peterson's books into wider circulation, I think Peterson himself would become this generation's C.S. Lewis. I'm not kidding.
AR Grade Level: Unknown
Suggested Age Range: 10+
Plot Synopsis:
"Janner Wingfeather's father was the High King of Anniera. But his father is gone. The kingdom has fallen. The royal family is on the run, and the Fang armies of Gnag the Nameless are close behind. Janner and the family hope to find refuge in the last safe place in the world: the Green Hollows -- a land of warriors feared even by Fangs of Dang.
But there's a big problem. Janner's little brother - heir to the throne of Anniera - has grown a tail. And gray fur. Not to mention two pointed ears and long, dangerous fangs. To the suspicious folk of the Green Hollows he looks like a monster. But Janner knows better. His brother isn't as scary as he looks. Or is he?
Join the Wingfeathers on a new adventure filled with mystery, betrayal, and sneakery in a land of tasty fruits. There's a monster in the Hollows, and the truth lurks in the shadows." -- from the book jacket.
The Skinny:
Andrew Peterson seems to be taking the J.K. Rowling approach; in other words, as the three Wingfeather children have grown older, their story has matured as well. In this, the latest Wingfeather installment, the humorous footnotes that were sprinkled throughout At the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness and North! Or Be Eaten have completely vanished, the fearsome (and toothy!) wildlife is barely mentioned -- and most importantly of all, the plot focuses less on the external and more on the internal. Indeed, the armies of Gnag the Nameless don't appear until the very end of the book -- and I think that's a good thing.
The Monster in the Hollows requires a good deal more careful reflection when it comes to sussing out its themes. For example, who do the insular and suspicious Hollowsfolk represent? If you'll allow me to advance a theory, I believe they are meant to symbolize Christianity in the modern world. Since the fall of Anniera, you see, the Hollowsfolk have successfully beaten back the Fangs of Dang. But at what cost? Because the Hollowsfolk have chosen to take a defensive posture, they have missed the opportunity to rescue the rest of Aerwiar. Similarly, many Christians today have responded to the depravities of our popular culture by erecting their own (metaphorical) harbor gates. They refuse, full stop, to engage with that culture, preferring instead to avoid all contact with sinners "out there." Peterson, evidently, sees this circling of the wagons as a failure to live up to Jesus' call to evangelize, and personally, I agree.
Another dominant theme in this novel tackles God's capacity to heal what is broken and pull the good out of tragedy and disaster. As Artham tells the Hollowsfolk:
In what is perhaps the novel's most beautiful twist, we discover that even the cloven - the twisted beasts who lurk in the Blackwood - are subject to the Maker's mercy in this regard -- and young Kalmar, who spends the entire novel struggling with the external marks of his sin, finds himself in just the right position to understand what the cloven are and why they too need love.
In a way, Kalmar's journey in this series is very similar to Edmund's journey in The Chronicles of Narnia. He starts off eager to dispense with his responsibilities and run away from who he really is -- but when this urge finally gets him into serious trouble, Kalmar - like Edmund before him - comes back from the brink a more humble and more mature king. It's an interesting arc in both incarnations. In all honesty, I can't wait to see where Peterson's High King goes from here.
Characterization: 9.0
Peterson's humane rendering of Kalmar, Artham, Podo and Esben as they face the consequences of their past mistakes is especially noteworthy.
Plot/Pacing: 9.0
This book takes a slower pace than does North! Or Be Eaten -- and sometimes the jumps between the main plot and the (also excellent) side plot (which features Sara Cobbler and the child slaves of the Fork! Factory) feel a bit jarring. Still, Peterson has a real gift for writing chapter conclusions which inspire in the reader a desire to keep going.
Concepts/Themes: 10.0
See the discussion above.
*Oh, and PS: Once you've finished the novel, don't forget to read the appendices. The exerpt from the First Book is an absolutely gorgeous piece of writing:
Overall: 9.3
If we could just get Peterson's books into wider circulation, I think Peterson himself would become this generation's C.S. Lewis. I'm not kidding.
AR Grade Level: Unknown
Suggested Age Range: 10+
Plot Synopsis:
"Janner Wingfeather's father was the High King of Anniera. But his father is gone. The kingdom has fallen. The royal family is on the run, and the Fang armies of Gnag the Nameless are close behind. Janner and the family hope to find refuge in the last safe place in the world: the Green Hollows -- a land of warriors feared even by Fangs of Dang.
But there's a big problem. Janner's little brother - heir to the throne of Anniera - has grown a tail. And gray fur. Not to mention two pointed ears and long, dangerous fangs. To the suspicious folk of the Green Hollows he looks like a monster. But Janner knows better. His brother isn't as scary as he looks. Or is he?
Join the Wingfeathers on a new adventure filled with mystery, betrayal, and sneakery in a land of tasty fruits. There's a monster in the Hollows, and the truth lurks in the shadows." -- from the book jacket.
The Skinny:
Andrew Peterson seems to be taking the J.K. Rowling approach; in other words, as the three Wingfeather children have grown older, their story has matured as well. In this, the latest Wingfeather installment, the humorous footnotes that were sprinkled throughout At the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness and North! Or Be Eaten have completely vanished, the fearsome (and toothy!) wildlife is barely mentioned -- and most importantly of all, the plot focuses less on the external and more on the internal. Indeed, the armies of Gnag the Nameless don't appear until the very end of the book -- and I think that's a good thing.
The Monster in the Hollows requires a good deal more careful reflection when it comes to sussing out its themes. For example, who do the insular and suspicious Hollowsfolk represent? If you'll allow me to advance a theory, I believe they are meant to symbolize Christianity in the modern world. Since the fall of Anniera, you see, the Hollowsfolk have successfully beaten back the Fangs of Dang. But at what cost? Because the Hollowsfolk have chosen to take a defensive posture, they have missed the opportunity to rescue the rest of Aerwiar. Similarly, many Christians today have responded to the depravities of our popular culture by erecting their own (metaphorical) harbor gates. They refuse, full stop, to engage with that culture, preferring instead to avoid all contact with sinners "out there." Peterson, evidently, sees this circling of the wagons as a failure to live up to Jesus' call to evangelize, and personally, I agree.
Another dominant theme in this novel tackles God's capacity to heal what is broken and pull the good out of tragedy and disaster. As Artham tells the Hollowsfolk:
"I was broken, I tell you, hardly a man at all! Unmade and foundering was I! But in the pit of the Phoobs I too sang the song of the stones! I became no Fang, but sprouted these." He flexed his wings and swooped them forward, blowing back the hair of those nearest him. "I cannot tell you why. All I know is that in my heart was a burning love for young Kalmar. Gnag bends things for breaking, and the Maker makes a flourish! Evil digs a pit, and the Maker makes a well! That is his way."
In what is perhaps the novel's most beautiful twist, we discover that even the cloven - the twisted beasts who lurk in the Blackwood - are subject to the Maker's mercy in this regard -- and young Kalmar, who spends the entire novel struggling with the external marks of his sin, finds himself in just the right position to understand what the cloven are and why they too need love.
In a way, Kalmar's journey in this series is very similar to Edmund's journey in The Chronicles of Narnia. He starts off eager to dispense with his responsibilities and run away from who he really is -- but when this urge finally gets him into serious trouble, Kalmar - like Edmund before him - comes back from the brink a more humble and more mature king. It's an interesting arc in both incarnations. In all honesty, I can't wait to see where Peterson's High King goes from here.
Characterization: 9.0
Peterson's humane rendering of Kalmar, Artham, Podo and Esben as they face the consequences of their past mistakes is especially noteworthy.
Plot/Pacing: 9.0
This book takes a slower pace than does North! Or Be Eaten -- and sometimes the jumps between the main plot and the (also excellent) side plot (which features Sara Cobbler and the child slaves of the Fork! Factory) feel a bit jarring. Still, Peterson has a real gift for writing chapter conclusions which inspire in the reader a desire to keep going.
Concepts/Themes: 10.0
See the discussion above.
*Oh, and PS: Once you've finished the novel, don't forget to read the appendices. The exerpt from the First Book is an absolutely gorgeous piece of writing:
...The Maker fears not the doings of Will. He weaves and wends the tale of the world, and watches o'er its endings. He has bid me bear my courage. He my fear has long assuaged. Even as he warns me of my rebel son's ambition, even as his shining eyes are lined with grief in joy, I sense, my son, a mighty love for me and each of us, his children, and I am fain to trust his voice. He means to make his subjects merciful and wise; sorrow and struggle bringeth both. We will, he tells me, grow by grieving, live by dying, love by losing. The heart itself is the field of battle and the garden green...
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Christian Fan's Bookshelf: The Elysian Chronicles, Books 1 & 2, by M.B. Weston
Overall: 9.7
This series is subtly Christian, pro-military, and very engaging. It features the kind of high-stakes storytelling we love here at Right Fans -- and a moral confidence that kicks political correctness in the teeth.
This series is subtly Christian, pro-military, and very engaging. It features the kind of high-stakes storytelling we love here at Right Fans -- and a moral confidence that kicks political correctness in the teeth.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Middle Grade & Young Adult Corner: The Wingfeather Saga, Books 1&2, by Andrew Peterson
Okay! Here marks the inauguration of a brand new feature here at Right Fans: the Middle Grade & Young Adult Corner. As a teacher, I like to stay informed regarding what's out there for our younger readers -- and as Middle Grade and Young Adult Sci-Fi and Fantasy is currently experiencing what could arguably be called a renaissance, many of the books I have stumbled upon in my travels are quite on topic for this site. These books I will review in our standard format, but I will also add a note indicating my suggested age range. (Though, of course, every parent is perfectly free to use his or her own discretion.)
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:
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:
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:
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:
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:
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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