Merlin, Season One

Hashtag been gone about forty days now. I don't really mean to be delinquent. Just seems that I either have nothing I want to say oooooooooor I haven't been reading a lot lately. WELL, I did get the chance to watch the first season/series/whatever-you-call-it-based-on-if-you're-British-or-American of BBC's Merlin, so I wanted to review that for you guys.

Uther (Anthony Head), the king of Camelot, has banned all magic from the land based on personal issues with it from more than twenty years ago. This doesn't help Merlin (Colin Morgan), who's just arrived in Camelot seeking some sort of refuge or help from Gaius (Richard Wilson), a friend of his mother's and the court physician, because he has “powers.” Though in danger of execution if he's found out, Merlin becomes an apprentice of sorts to Giaus, and it isn't long before he makes a friend in the form of the maidservant Guinevere (“Gwen”) (Angel Coulby) . . . and an enemy in Prince Arthur (Bradley James). But Merlin isn't the only magician in Camelot. There are others, and they have vendettas against the King--and their revenge includes the death of Arthur, Uther's only son. Even though he admits he would rather Arthur were dead than alive, Merlin saves the Prince's life . . . and finds himself both Arthur's manservant and his behind-the-scenes protector.

It's hard to know where to start with my criticism in any review, especially when I have so many opinions of the work I'm reviewing. Don't get me wrong, I loved this first season of the show. I've been wanting to watch it for a couple years now, and just recently in a stroke of luck found out that all of it (well, hopefully all of it) is available on Hulu for free. Still, it's not without its faults--well duh--so I guess I'd better somehow get into them without any more intro. . . . I talk a lot. Ever noticed that?

First of all, the story of Merlin the magician has been adapted in many, many different ways. I've read multiple books about him or including him, and he's an interesting dude. This series goes against tradition by turning him into a boy around the same age as Arthur--according to most of the books I've read, he's much older than Arthur and is more of a “coach” to him than he ever was a servant. Still, I enjoy how their relationship progresses over the course of the season, from loathing to mutual respect. This dynamic isn't one that could be achieved if Merlin were much older than Arthur (and really, making Merlin a sixty-year-old instructor wouldn't have been a good marketing scheme). The plot itself is not very intense, but I like this because in reality life is not always a rollercoaster--and sometimes it's nice to watch less stressful television. Regarding “cheapness,” the CGI and settings are also cheap--but I tolerate it. (I'm a Once Upon a Time fan . . . do I need to say anything else?) Seriously, the group of the knights in Camelot is tiny in comparison to what I expected, though I suppose it showcases how many “kings” lived during that time, and how small kingdoms were in comparison to what we think of them today. The fact that Guinevere is a servant also deposes typical legend, but I won't say more for those who don't know much about the Arthurian era.

Regarding its “pros” . . . Merlin is adorable. He's such a loveable retard. And the whole show is hilarious, mostly because of him. An aspect that is both a complaint and a “like” for me is that the show does too good a job of shipping Merlin and Guinevere . . . and again I won't say any more about this for now. I also really like Morgana. I didn't think I would because I thought she would be . . . well, different, based on popular myth about her. I did come close to hating Merlin in Episode 8, “The Beginning of the End,” for reasons that are self-explanatory when you watch the actual episode. But other than those few things, I really loved the first season of this. For those of you who are interested in the Camelot/Round Table/medieval era and aren't too picky about CGI, sets, and costuming, I think you'll like it as well.

For Hallie's benefit: There is also a sort of adaptation of the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Rating: 4.5 stars.

Divergent by Veronica Roth

There is one mirror in my house.

Read a synopsis here.

So. Here I am to review the novel that was allegedly created out of The Hunger Games when Veronica Roth decided she could make a load of money if she changed it up a little. I guess that pretty much five factions = twelve districts, the leader of the Erudite (whose name escapes me) = President Snow, and being a Divergent = you're Katniss Everdeen and you're sentenced to death for almost eating (and forcing someone else to eat) nightlock berries. 

Yes, there are some similarities. Without the Games, Roth pretty much has to jump straight into the Rebellion. Overall, I thought the plot was pretty cheap. The Rebellion itself hardly gets talked about until the last quarter of the book; the middle half is all about training and Tris's romance with Four; and the first quarter is about the Simulation and the Choosing Ceremony. It is an okay book, but because it's from a first-person present-tense perspective (hi, Hunger Games!), we don't get to see anybody's real opinion except Tris's--and with regards to Four and she, this is a stumbling block. The romance moves much too quickly and unrealistically. And there were times when the romance went just a little too far--or threatened to do so.

You want to have something to read and you're in a spot where this is all you have, it's a pretty good read. It just has a few faults, and I'm not entirely certain it deserves all the hype.

That was a short review. . . .

Rating: 4 stars.

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

this post does contain spoilers--read at your own risk

I stare down at my shoes, watching as a fine layer of ash settles on the worn leather.

Read a synopsis of the novel.

I picked it up from the library a couple weeks ago, immediately disappointed by the spine's lack of thickness when I was aware that the novel was split into two cinematic parts, the first due for release in November 2014, the second November 2015. I mean, you read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, a 200,000-word book, and you understand (A Writer's Journey). But, um, Mockingjay is half that, and one movie would easily cover all the major plot points (A Writer's Journey).

I had heard from Grace, a fellow book reviewer and writer (check out her blog!), that Katniss's attitude worsened even from what it was in Catching Fire. I didn't personally find that quite the case; still, Katniss will probably never be my favorite heroine. She's overly judgmental, and though she does love some people fiercely ("There are few people whom I really love, and even fewer of whom I think well," said Elizabeth Bennet), she does have a bad attitude. It's understandable that the Hunger Games would have given her PTSD, but she never was the nicest person on earth. I mean, Peeta has major PTSD too, and he doesn't act like that.

One main problem I've felt that the entirety of The Hunger Games series has--well, maybe the first doesn't quite fit this--is that Suzanne Collins didn't develop her plots nearly enough. Mockingjay reads as if there are still holes which haven't been filled, as if the story was hurried along on the way to the publishing press. Something that I can say for Harry Potter is that J.K. Rowling spent a credible amount of time developing her plot, storyworld, and characters--that's probably also why I like that series far better than this one. For example, Peeta, who, at the end of Catching Fire, has been captured by the Capitol leaders, has been injected with huge amounts of tracker jacker venom in order to change his memories of Katniss from safety and love to fear and hatred. He recovers from that far too quickly to be realistic, and even though he lapses back into it off and on, the effect is pretty cheap. Thankfully, the plot was kind enough to add some deaths of the best characters in the book--out of the graciousness of my heart, I won't tell you who. Haha. Although for one of them in particular, I really wasn't happy.

Also, the ending of the novel got rushed. It was one of those Mansfield Park endings, where the author spends the last eight pages resolving the love triangle. Dorky. But, whatever . . . ends the confusion, anyway (even though I already knew who Katniss would end up with).

Rating: 4.5 stars.

If you've read The Hunger Games series, what'd you think of it? I love to talk to my readers, so don't be shy!

cited...A Writer's Journey. "Word Counts." Copyright 9 April 2012. Web. 27 August 2014. http://awriterjourney.wordpress.com/2012/04/09/word-counts/.

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

I clasp the flask between my hands even though the warmth from the tea has long since leached into the frozen air.

After I read The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, I created a Pinterest board based on my interest in Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, and the country of Panem. I rated that book at four and a half stars, which is a good rating from me; over half the Harry Potter books received that rating. But I think I expected Catching Fire, the successor, to rivet me just as much as its precedent--and it certainly, and unfortunately, didn't.

Months ago, Katniss Everdeen volunteered to take her sister's place in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. Her victory in the Games was marred by the fact that she openly taunted the Capitol by daring to attempt suicide with her fellow victor, Peeta Mellark, with whom she was supposed to be in love. Just as she begins her Victory Tour, President Snow visits her--threatening her that if she can't convince everyone, including him, of her love for Peeta, bad things will happen. It just so happens that the next year's Hunger Games are the Quarter Quell--the seventy-fifth--and this year's tweak to the usual Games is that participants will be reaped only from the living winners.

The plot sounds good from a distance, but Collins had some serious problems with executing it. If you think about it, it's just another excuse to have another set of Hunger Games--which is, granted, what the series is named for, but . . . really? Things never happen the same way twice. And when authors try to make it look like they do, it all gets old pretty fast. The Games themselves were cheap, not like the Games of the previous novel. And you know how I said in The Hunger Games's book review that I would definitely choose Team Peeta over Team Gale? I doubt that now. The more I get to know Peeta, the more he annoys me; maybe it's because he just seems to lack a personality. Gale, on the other hand, I actually liked a bit more in this novel. Also, if Katniss knows that he's the guy who knows her best in all the world--why would she have to choose between him and Peeta?

Overall, this was just subpar in comparison to what I hoped. I'd heard others say that Catching Fire was their favorite; my cousin liked it less than The Hunger Games. I should have listened to him. I rate it as FOUR, and hope that Mockingjay will be better. And honestly, I think the movie adaptation of this book looks way more interesting than the book itself. Hopefully that's actually true.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.

warning: this post contains spoilers

I generally try to cram my book reviews into no more than two paragraphs, because I've found in the past that longer ones generate zero comments. Also, I don't read reviews that are overly long. But this time I'm throwing all that out the window, because I actually have stuff to say about this one.

The seventy-fourth Hunger Games are about to begin. And if you don't know the story, you should by now. It's been all over everywhere since the first movie came out in 2012. 

I thought about this today. I thought about it regarding my book, and I thought about it regarding this story. My English teacher had said many times over the course of the 2013-2014 school year that no story is new--every one of them has already been written. Boy, do I wish publishers would figure that out. And so today, as I moved the irrigation pipes across the orchard grass field, I thought something to the effect of--when a book is called "original," that only means that the author took inspiration from more than one source. The more sources you draw your material from (and I mean fictional sources, I don't mean research), the more original is your work. For example, when I first started my book, my storyline was much like The Lord of the Rings, and the book itself I described as "A cross between The Lord of the Rings and Narnia." Is that very original? No. But now I can say that my inspirations are The Lord of the Rings, Narnia, Captain America, and, to some extent, Star Wars. The fact is that the more you read and the more you watch--the more ideas you'll see, and the more you can incorporate them into your books. That's not plagiarism. That's adaptation. Plagiarism would be taking one stories and one idea and rewriting it with some changes. Remember, the more pieces, the bigger, the harder, the more intricate, the more thought-puzzling, the more time-consuming is the puzzle. Just like how they say the people in your dreams are made up of bits and pieces of all the people you've seen. So are your characters. (That's why I can say I want Colin O'Donoghue, Hayden Christiansen, and Richard Armitage to somehow become one person for my MC.) So is your plot. (Disclaimer, because I have to: I do not, and never would, advocate plagiarism. Ever. I sincerely doubt any aspiring author reading this would, or does, commit plagiarism with his or her works. Most book ideas that come to a writer wouldn't be plagiarism, because, as I said, inspiration can come--and should come--from so many different places. From a photo on Pinterest. From a landscape. From a piece of the plot in Captain America.)

I can assume that Suzanne Collins drew from many sources when she created Panem, even if she didn't know it. The history of the U.S. with the thirteen colonies--and the irony that history repeats itself. The coal mining days of America. I could guess that she watched North and South by BBC, but that would be supposing she were like me, which I very much doubt she is. I can assume she drew from many sources when she thought of the Hunger Games. I'm almost certain she looked at reality TV now and remembered the Colosseum (based on what I've heard). And she asked "Why not?" . . . an incredibly important thing to do, but unfortunately a topic too long for me to discuss in a post which is supposed to be a book review.

I can't fault the plot. The plot is original because it was taken from sources which melded together to create a bestselling series. So what about the characters?

Katniss Everdeen. The book, written in first person present tense, is entirely from her perspective. A bad thing? No. But Katniss is no-nonsense, practical, your typical strong personality, except--and this is a plus for her--not saucy, not opinionated, and not like most every other female protagonist in literature today. But I couldn't like her very much. I couldn't identify with her. She was too coldhearted, too unfeeling. Stylistically, this was Suzanne Collins's main problem: she didn't have near the emotional punch that J.K. Rowling had as I read through Harry Potter. (To be fair, Collins is, technically, a better writer than Rowling.) Or is that what she wanted? Because Katniss has to be unfeeling . . . because she has to survive.

Gale. I honestly didn't like him. Team Peeta and Team Gale? Well, I'm definitely Team Peeta. Gale and Katniss are too alike for a good relationship, besides which Gale is angry and vengeful. If you could choose, which would you do: a relationship with a man who's been your friend for the last five years and helped your family survive, who you could call your best friend; or a relationship with a man who saved your life at least twice, who stood by your side and helped you when you were three inches away from death for two weeks? That's a hard question. I've heard it said that ultimately Katniss and Peeta went through more together than Katniss and Gale. I both agree and disagree. Without Gale's help, Katniss may have starved with her family in District 12. Without Peeta, she certainly would have.

Which brings me to Peeta Mellark. I'm most likely Peeta's same Meyers Briggs personality--if he is an ISFJ as I expect. But he was way sweeter than Gale, and much easier to like than Katniss. I really don't know exactly what he sees in her. She's an excellent hunter and she cares deeply for a few people ("There are a few people whom I really love, and even fewer of whom I think well," said Elizabeth Bennet), but outside she's pricklier than a thorn.

The most well-done portion of the entire book was probably Katniss's confusion over her feelings toward Peeta. She doesn't believe she's in love, but she can't stand being separated from him and she even says "I already miss him" as they hold hands, united by physical touch but sundered by the cold truth, before the welcoming crowds of District 12. She can't withhold herself from running to embrace him when she sees him after the Games, but she has to do it partially for show. She screams at the doctors who try to heal him--she wants to be with him. But is this because she loves him, or because she fears for his safety? Even the readers don't know the answer. To me, Gale should mean safety and security because he was unassociated with the Games, whereas Peeta should mean fear and isolation because his presence meant she was in the Hunger Games. Hmm.

What was my overall takeaway from The Hunger Games? I'm excited to read Catching Fire. But I hope that Katniss opens up more--and I hope suspense increases. And I hope the confusion with the love triangle lessens.

4.5 stars.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling

First Line: "The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane."

Romance: 2/5 - Some kissing.

Profanity: 3/5 - Use of words include b**ch (once), and possibly h*ll and d**n.

Violence: 2/5 - Fighting, escaping, torturing--but not described very graphically.

Other parental concerns: Use of magic.

Harry has been entrusted with a mission. He's dropped out of his seventh year of Hogwarts to find and destroy the six Horcruxes that will enable him to at last defeat the menace of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But with Voldemort's rabid desire to see Harry dead, he is forced to go into isolation with his best friends, Ron and Hermione. But the Horcruxes are not only nearly impossible to find and dangerous to try to find--they have the power to rip the friends apart if the threesome doesn't stay alert. And then arrives the discovery of the Deathly Hallows--is its story merely a fairy tale or can it be possible that it has the power to kill Voldemort?

Harry Potter's phenomenal story at last comes to an end in this absolutely shocking final installment. Peering into technicalities isn't good for Rowling's writing reputation--though she's improved since The Order of the Phoenix, she still "tries too hard" to retrieve the excellence of The Prisoner of Azkaban--and thus cannot achieve it. But her poor-ish writing is far overshadowed by the brilliance of her characters and the literally incredible plot twists. From the information received through Harry's attempts to kill Voldemort to the full stories of the other heroes, Rowling weaves a tale which thoroughly captivates her audience--and I couldn't ask for a better ending to this bestselling series.

Remember that my Q & A post is open for questioning HERE and closes July 14.

Rating:

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling

(It’s been a couple weeks since I finished this one, so forgive me if my impressions are less up-to-date than you’d like. Also, this will probably be quite short for that reason.)

First Line: “It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind.”

Romance: 3/5 – There is quite a bit of kissing and dating described.

Profanity: 2/5 – If I remember correctly, the swearing is less here than in The Order of the Phoenix, but there’s still enough to raise a concern for younger readers. Use of “D**n,” “H*ll,” “Bloody,” and “Blimey”—possibly inappropriate jokes.

Violence: 2/5 – Similar to the other books in the series; violence in books doesn’t affect me as it would in a movie, so it’s difficult to rate this.

Other parental concerns: Use of magic.

“The war against Voldemort is not going well; even the Muggle governments are noticing. Ron scans the obituary pages of the Daily Prophet, looking for familiar names. Dumbledore is absent from Hogwarts for long stretches of time, and the Order of the Phoenix has already suffered losses. And yet, as with all wars, life goes on. Sixth-year students learn to Apparate—and lose a few eyebrows in the process. Teenagers flirt and fight and fall in love. Classes are never straightforward, though Harry receives some extraordinary help from the mysterious Half-Blood Prince. So it’s the home front that takes center stage in the multilayered sixth installment of the story of Harry Potter. Here at Hogwarts, Harry will search for the full and complex story of the boy who became Lord Voldemort—and thereby find what may be his only vulnerability.” – GoodReads

My comments on this are going to be pretty straightforward. First of all, I’m happy to say that Rowling’s writing has really begun to improve—there are far fewer dialogue-with-adverb tags, and every word flows much more easily through one’s brain as a result. The plot begins to thicken as she utilizes the character of the Half-Blood Prince and begins to teach Harry to better understand the brain and actions of Lord Voldemort. Yet though the plot is good, I still feel it lacked tension and correct pacing in some places—especially just before the end. Thus, I think I’ll go ahead with this—

Rating:

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling

First Line: “The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive.”

Romance: 2/5 – There is some kissing and dating described.

Profanity: 3/5 – There’s a lot of use of “D**n,” “H*ll,” and several inappropriate jokes—maybe one or two uses of words like “Bloody,” and “Blimey.”

Violence: 2/5 – As in the other books, there is a character who desperately wants Harry Potter dead, and will go to great lengths to see him so.

Other parental concerns: Use of magic.

“There is a door at the end of a silent corridor. And it’s haunting Harry Potter’s dreams. Why else would he be waking in the middle of the night, screaming in terror? Here are just a few things on Harry’s mind: 1) A Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with a personality like poisoned honey; 2) A venomous, disgruntled house-elf; 3) Ron as keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team; 4) The looming terror of the end-of-term Ordinary Wizarding Level exams . . . and, of course, the growing threat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In the richest installment yet of J.K. Rowling’s seven-part story, Harry Potter is faced with the unreliability of the very government of the magical world and the impotence of the authorities at Hogwarts. Despite this (or perhaps because of it), he finds depth and strength in his friends, beyond what even he knew; boundless loyalty; and unbearable sacrifice. Though thick runs the plot (as well as the spine), readers will race through these pages and leave Hogwarts, like Harry, wishing only for the next train back.” – Scholastic, Inc.

After The Goblet of Fire’s 190,000+ words, which probably could have been cut down to 150,000, I was a little unsure about tackling about 257,000 in its sequel, The Order of the Phoenix. But, thankfully, I did find The Order of the Phoenix more fulfilling than its precedent. Rowling’s writing could, admittedly, use improvement—such as, let’s take away all those dialogue-and-adverb-tags, shall we? But with the faults in her writing, her plotting has improved as she begins to reveal more and more about Harry Potter’s relationship to the evil Lord Voldemort. And I know this is bad, but I really enjoyed Harry’s rebellion against Professor Umbridge with the D.A. I’m a rebellious soul, I guess. . . . :) (I probably shouldn’t have smiled at that.) I found the connection between Professor Snape and Harry very interesting, too, and longed for that impenetrable connection to break into Harry’s thick skull. I mean, seriously, kid, how much dumber can you get sometimes. . . . But the way Rowling handled Harry’s emotions in the last couple of chapters was masterful, and in spite of my debating between four and a half and five, I’m going to go with. . . .

Rating:

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

First Line: “The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it ‘the Riddle House,’ even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there.”

Romance: 0/5 – There may be instances of “crushes,” but there is very little description involved.

Profanity: 2/5 – There are many uses of “D**n,” and several inappropriate jokes, as well as words like “blimey,” “bloody,” and “h*ll.”

Violence: 2/5 – There is a death scene, and murderous motivations.

Other parental concerns: Use of magic.

Recommended age: 13+

It’ll be the famous Harry Potter’s fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But this year, the summer seems even more prolonged than usual as he waits . . . and waits . . . and waits for September First. For one thing, he wakes up one morning with the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead burning. For another, Lord Voldemort’s old supporters—the Death Eaters—have been sighted at the Quidditch World Cup. And for yet another, he suddenly finds himself inexplicably chosen by the Goblet of Fire to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, which has not been held in over a century. . . .

What to say, what to say? After the brilliance of The Prisoner of Azkaban, my hopes were high for its sequel, The Goblet of Fire. But, unfortunately, as I had heard from my literature teacher, J.K. Rowling’s writing style falls a bit in this fourth installment of the worldwide phenomenon of Harry Potter. For one thing, the book is more than 190,000 words—and while this certainly isn’t a bad thing in itself, it is her method of employing those words which worsens her writing. She seems to lengthen everything unnecessarily, and “telling-not-showing,” which she tended to do fall into during the most violent scenes of The Prisoner of Azkaban, is far more pronounced in this novel than it has been in any of the last three. But because of her final executions of the plot in the last few chapters, and her ability to arouse the tension Harry feels in her readers, I give it. . . .

Rating:

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling

First Line: “Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.”

Romance: 0/5

Profanity: 0/5

Violence: 2/5

Parental concerns: There is use of magic. There is a lot of yelling at students by teachers (no profanity is used). There is use of words like Blimey and one boy is said to have sworn. A boy has a girlfriend, but they don’t spend much time together—that we read. Another boy has a crush on a girl his age, but it’s never referenced as such. There are descriptions which may conjure creepy images.

Recommended age: 10+

“Harry Potter is lucky to reach the age of thirteen, since he has already survived the murderous attacks of the feared Dark Lord on more than one occasion. But his hopes for a quiet term concentrating on Quidditch are dashed when a maniacal mass-murderer escapes from Azkaban, pursued by the soul-sucking Dementors who guard the prison. It’s assumed that Hogwarts is the safest place for Harry to be. But is it a coincidence that he can feel eyes watching him in the dark, and should he be taking Professor Trelawney’s ghoulish predictions seriously?” – GoodReads

It’s been the best Harry Potter book yet, no doubt about it. Superb characters, an intricate and mysterious plot, and laugh-out-loud hilarity combined with Rowling’s spellbinding writing style that keeps her readers turning pages. To tell the truth, there’s very little that I can say that’s wrong with this book. Pretty much all I can say is—I’ve joined the Harry Potter fandom for real now. The Prisoner of Azkaban left me connected to Harry, Ron, and Hermione (in whom I see a lot of myself . . .) like neither of the other books did before, and its only fault—at which point I thought, “Oh, blast, I’m going to have to give it a four and a half again. . . .”—was Rowling’s tendency to drop into telling rather than showing during her most intense scenes. But what the book lost in that, it made up for with its spectacular twists and surprises. If The Goblet of Fire is better than The Prisoner of Azkaban, I’m going to be over-awed.

Rating:

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling

First Line: “Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive.”
 

Romance: 0/5
 

Profanity: 0/5
 

Violence: 2/5
 

Parental concerns: There is use of magic. A girl has a “crush” on her teacher; the crush is never referenced as such, but the girl is teased because of it. Another girl "likes" an older boy and is widely teased because of it. A young man is said to have a girlfriend and is said to have kissed her. There is some use of words like Blimey.
 

Recommended age: 10+
 

Harry Potter’s second year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is approaching—albeit a bit slowly, as he’s stuck in the stuck-up Dursleys’ house for the summer, waiting and wishing for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger’s letters. Then, during a dinner party thrown by the Dursleys (to which Harry is not invited), a strange house elf called Dobby arrives in Harry’s bedroom and insists that Harry cannot return to Hogwarts this year . . . or something bad will happen. And once Harry gets back to Hogwarts, Dobby’s warning is eerily accurate . . . Draco Malfoy is the Slytherin Quidditch team’s new Seeker, students start getting paralyzed, and Harry is hearing strange voices in the walls. . . .

Well, I read the entire second installment of Harry Potter in one day. Aren’t you proud of me? It’s only 341 pages, so my triumph wasn’t astronomical, but I was rather proud of myself. And annoyed because I didn’t finish any homework Friday. And even more annoyed because I didn’t order The Prisoner of Azkaban soon enough. Well, enough about that. . . .

Obviously, if I read it in one day, I loved it. Still—and staunch Harry Potter lovers will probably very much dislike me for this—I feel as though there’s something missing from Rowling’s writing. Perhaps I’ve just read too much—too many mysteries especially—but I find it quite cliché that at the end of every book there’s this sudden encounter with this scary dude who’s trying to kill Harry (always at the end of the school year, too . . .). I realize I’m ignorant on Harry Potter, and I also know that the series is supposed to get extremely complicated as the books go on—I just suppose that books which seem more directed towards younger people than I aren’t my favorites. As for the “mystery” (since, if you don’t  know it, Harry Potter is laid out in a mystery-ish format), I didn’t guess it. . . . Which is pretty good, considering how many mysteries I’ve read/watched. Character development? Hmm. I didn’t really see much of it here, but because it’s a series, I won’t harp on that. I’m fairly certain that the characters will develop a lot more as they get older.

Rating:

{Don’t know what on earth a Nimbus Two Thousand and One is? Read the books!}

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling

Rating: 4.5 of 5 stars

First Line: “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”

Romance: 0/5

Profanity: 0/5

Violence: 2/5

Parental concerns: There is, naturally, use of magic, as it is about wizardry.

Recommended age: 10+

I am one of the few literate seventeen-year-olds in the world who, prior to a week ago, had never seriously read Harry Potter. Yes, I had randomly picked up a book or two at a relative’s or friend’s house, and (irritatingly, I’m sure ) read over the shoulder of my cousin as he read The Deathly Hallows, but other than that (and spoiling myself with watching some of the movie trailers/snippets of the movies) I was infamously unacquainted with the world of Hogwarts.

Harry Potter’s life up till now has been rotten. His horrible Aunt and Uncle Dursley and their—can it be possible—worse son Dudley have been sure to make his life miserable at every turn, and when he begins receiving anonymous letters, they’re even more certain to see he never reads them. Suddenly, a wizard named Hagrid storms into Harry’s life and demands that he accept his invitation to Hogwarts School for Wizardry and Witchcraft. Harry, at first stunned to learn that he is a wizard, soon finds himself excited to attend this wizards’ school and get away from the Dursleys, little realizing that the life he pops into is far more dangerous than it is mere fun. . . .

After hearing so much about this series and looking forward to reading it so long, I believe I put it on some sort of pedestal; I expected it to be one hundred percent perfect. Regardless of what die-hard fans will say, I have to state this: the first installment was definitely not one hundred percent perfect. I expected more plot; suffice it to say it was much tamer and far less than I had assumed. I expected flawless writing; and because of this expectation, I was fairly hard on Rowling whenever I came across a phrase that she could have fixed due to passivity instead of activity. (However, I should also note that she is the English major, and that she therefore probably knows how to correctly use passive verbs, whereas I do not.) Characterization, however, was absolutely lovely. Harry Potter’s character doesn’t come off very quickly in comparison to Ron’s or Hermione’s, but I suppose that’s because the book is mainly from his perspective, not theirs (though Rowling mostly uses the omniscient view, so she can do what we call “head-hopping” within a scene—she does abuse this method sometimes, but I like the book too much to really nitpick about that). Altogether, I am satisfied with this novel—even though it didn’t quite meet my lofty ideals, I think that the series will exceed them as a whole. I highly recommend it, and can’t wait to read The Chamber of Secrets.

Brave New World

Rating: 9

O brave new world, that has such people in’t! – Miranda, The Tempest by William Shakespeare

Aldous Huxley boldly proclaims his belief of the future in his renowned novel Brave New World, focusing on a society ruled by pleasure and “hypnopedia.” In this startling mirror of today’s world, Huxley introduces a young Caucasian male born on an unconditioned Indian reservation to this “brave new world.” John Savage immediately falls in love with his Juliet, a beautiful but conditioned young woman named Lenina. John, entirely educated by William Shakespeare, becomes infatuated with the world to which he’s been introduced, yet is surprised and terribly disappointed when he realizes that promiscuity and soma are everywhere he looks and that nowhere can he find the spiritual assurance he seeks.

As disgusting as it is, in reading Brave New World you can parallel almost everything awful in that society to something in our world today. The sexual mantra “Everybody belongs to everybody else” is so like present-day, where abstinence is frowned upon and extremely rare. The drug soma, a method of forgetting the world and one’s troubles, is exactly like marijuana, which has already been legalized in my home state. The “feelies” (movies which you can feel as well as see—it’s gross) are just like “virtual reality.” Then there’s the obsession to “kill God” in the minds and hearts of citizens—which is exactly like the world we live in. (Employees can’t even say “Merry Christmas” anymore, for heaven’s sake!) And because of all of this mature content, the book is definitely not one for readers under sixteen—maybe not even those under eighteen. (Parents should use caution. If this were a movie, it would be rated R because, of course, Hollywood would throw in a bunch of unnecessary nastiness; yet even if Hollywood didn’t trash it, it would still be at least PG-13.) John’s method of finding religion is hopelessly flawed (you find out how hopeless when you read it), and teaches us that we can’t be too proud to accept the grace of God. Overall, it’s a sad, icky, but still somehow good book—and one that you should read to gain even better understanding of just how lost our world is becoming and just how much we need grace.

Martin Eden

Rating: 9

“The semiautobiographical Martin Eden is the most vital and original character Jack London ever created. Set in San Francisco, this is the story of Martin Eden, an impoverished seaman who pursues, obsessively and aggressively, dreams of education and literary fame. London, dissatisfied with the rewards of his own success, intended Martin Eden as an attack on individualism and a criticism of ambition; however, much of its status as a classic has been conferred by admirers of its ambitious protagonist.” – GoodReads

Martin Eden, though not the most gripping book I’ve ever read, is probably one of the most profound. Like Demian, it is very Nietzschean and very focused on individualism and the “master morality” as opposed to the “slave morality;” however, it also fully portrays the negative effect of this individualism on this highly intelligent protagonist’s life. Yet Jack London’s condemnation of individualism itself was not portrayed as well as he wanted it to be, for in comparing this book to Hermann Hesse’s Demian (likewise semi-autobiographical), it becomes apparent that Martin Eden really was a “fake individualist,” longing for the high opinion of the world rather than being content with his own opinion of himself in spite of his constant spouting of these beliefs (see how selfish it is now?), and therefore the book becomes a sermon against inauthentic individualism rather than the individualism itself. Martin Eden also points out the wrongs of idealization/infatuation in a romantic relationship and how blinded it makes oneself. (Oh, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll love the ending ) Martin Eden is a masterpiece—but it’s not a book for younger readers. It doesn’t deal with topics quite as mature as Demian and The Stranger, but it does take some thoughtfulness to fully understand.     

Demian

Rating: 8 Note: While I give other books 8s regularly, including A Wizard’s Wings, Demian is a far “better” 8 than any of The Lost Years of Merlin saga was. While the ratings may look the same, my actual meaning attached to them tends to vary from the high end to the low end. Demian is at the high end of this spectrum.

Emil Sinclair is being brutally manipulated by a schoolmate. His fear recommends him to steal and lie, and he hates himself for it. Then, suddenly, a young man named Max Demian enters his life—and changes it forever. Sent off to boarding school, Emil is away from his friend, and in consequence, is forced to come to grips with himself through various and terrible personal trials. Where is Demian in his time of need? What are these mysterious dreams that plague him?

Demian is without doubt the weirdest piece of literature I’ve ever read. It focuses on the concepts of existentialism and, especially, individualism—all those “ism”s which are merely selfish and unfulfilling in spite of what people would like to believe. Because it is so focused on these concepts, as well as the unBiblical approach to God (half male, half female, and half good, half evil—known as “Abraxas”), I can’t recommend it for younger readers—sixteen and over is the youngest I would recommend for this book. It is also very Nietzschean, concentrating on the concept of “ultimate truth” (finding one’s own truth; also known as “relative truth” since Friedrich Nietzsche believed that there is no “universal truth”—things which are true for everyone). So please use caution when reading this book. It is masterful, but it is weird, and, as with The Stranger by Albert Camus, I would never have understood it without a teacher. Demian himself requires a lot of thought, because he’s terribly unusual. Yet in spite of all of what’s wrong (Biblically) with this book, it does have the good principle of going out by oneself to stop “conditioning” oneself (which is a subject that crops up more obviously in Brave New World by Aldous Huxley), because, for example, if you want to be an authentic follower of Jesus Christ, you can’t borrow your parents’ religion—you have to go out and find it for yourself. It also places emphasis on the spiritual help which is always with us (though, of course, it doesn’t specify that that spiritual help is only there if we ask Him to be).

Demian is one of Hermann Hesse’s lesser-known novels (he is probably most well-known for Steppenwolf and Siddhartha)—have any of you ever heard of it or read it? 

A Wizard’s Wings

Rating: 8

In this fifth and final segment of The Lost Years of Merlin saga, Rhita Gawr’s greatest invasion on “the in-between place” of Fincayra is imminent and Merlin is the only one who can stop it. Yet he is threatened on other sides by a mysterious man with arms made of swords instead of flesh, by his errant father Stangmar who has suddenly escaped from his supposedly impenetrable prison, and by his own mind and heart which war against him continually. In order to “prevail on winter’s longest night” he must defeat his greatest opposition—which he supposes is Rhita Gawr. But what is it really?

Interesting point: every book in this series has gotten a score of 8. I would have actually given this one a 7, but it was just interesting enough to put it over into the group of “rereadable” books. There are just some things in T.A. Barron’s style that are very irritating after you’ve read five of his books—for example, the fact that Merlin somehow always gets lucky. I’m like, why don’t you just run him through with your sword and kill him for once? How is there always someone who saves him? And then there’s the ever-predictable plot line. Since these books are written in first-person, Merlin will be like, “I have no idea what this means out of this really weird riddle which my mentor Cairpre is talking about,” and I’ll be like, “Duh I know exactly what it is and sometimes I just want to push you off a cliff because I would get everything done way faster” (okay, not really). There was one point in this story that T.A. Barron did passably well—the “Sword Arms” dude threw me off a little on the predicting scale. Since he perpetually throws Merlin’s own magic back at him, I thought—well, since Merlin hasn’t even really learned to come to terms with himself yet, what if this is actually Merlin’s bad side warring against him (which is an epic idea)? Then I doubted myself later on, and came up with a new hypothesis, until I finally learned the truth (and I’ll leave you to figure that out). As usual, T.A. Barron was far too dramatic in scripting and writing, reminding me of my own writing sometimes (gosh, it’s annoying when you go back and read it!). But he does keep the level of interest high in his books, and, again, that’s the only reason that I give this book an 8.

The Stranger

Rating: 9

Meursault is alone.

No family, no father, and very few friends, but content with his life. Losing his Maman made little difference to him. His joy is in sensuality—what he can see, what he can smell, what he can taste, what he can hear, what he can touch. Likewise, his anger springs from a sensual assault—the burning sun on a stifling day in Algiers caused him to commit a horrible crime, one that, strangely, he doesn’t even regret—rather, it only annoys him.

Meursault is probably the strangest character I have ever come across in literature. Quiet, very appreciative of beauty, but virtually without feeling (“emotionally retarded”), Meursault is a total rationalist who was masterfully crafted by Albert Camus. Because this is such an amazing story, the focus is not on the plot nearly so much as the character. However, the plot complements the character in such a brilliant fashion as to make this book a true masterpiece. Meursault’s condemnation to the death penalty was because he didn’t weep at his mother’s funeral (which doesn’t make sense, as the first stage of grief is denial, and the last is true mourning), not because he committed any crime. But it is his condemnation that makes him a real man and forces him to understand and really feel something—hatred for a world which hates those who are different.

I would have given this book a 10, but there is some graphic-ish material that I cannot recommend to anyone, let alone younger readers. (I had to read it for my English class, by the way, though it was on my reading list prior to my reading it.) Also, I had to have a teacher to fully understand this book—if I had read this before taking a literature class, I wouldn’t have fully appreciated Albert Camus’s genius or the depth of the story. I’m not saying that if you haven’t had a literature class you can’t read it—I’m not very good at “getting things” a lot of the time, and you guys are probably much better at it—but I am saying that I really do not think that anyone under sixteen should read this.

What about you? I’m curious. This isn’t a book that comes up in discussion a lot in the blogging world—it seems to be one of those that “nonChristian die-hard classic fans” would read. But have any of you read it?

The Mirror of Fate

Rating: 8 of 10

Fifteen-year-old Merlin’s life has been far more eventful than the average young adult’s. He has saved Fincayra from Rhita Gawr’s iron hand over his father Stangmar, reducing the Shrouded Castle to the original Estonahenj; he’s translated the riddle of the Seven Songs to gain a powerful understanding of magic and the deeper meanings of life; and he triumphed over his will in attempting to understand a dragon instead of trying to defeat him through force. Now he’s trying to coerce his willful shadow into obeying him; yet in the midst of what may seem trivial difficulties, a ballymag sends him and his friend Hallia to the Haunted Marsh—which has undergone enormous, and horrifying, changes over the last few months. His legendary sword is entrapped in the Marsh, and he must find it, even though it seems that it’s landed there merely to attract him to someone who wants him dead.

The plot of this book varies from its precedents in that it focuses very little on the evil surrounding Merlin and emphasizes instead his own journey toward himself. Merlin has always had trouble accepting himself for whom he is, and the most recent set of occurrences forces him to come to grips with all facets of himself, including his impudent shadow. Yet there didn’t really seem to be an incredibly cohesive plot, because of the lack of emphasis on the villainess Nimue and her wicked goals. Merlin’s romance with Hallia wasn’t very well-done—it was obvious that they’d get together from The Raging Fires, but Hallia is such an under-developed character that I just didn’t like that half of the equation a whole lot. Merlin isn’t the typical physically strong hero, either, but that’s actually a good thing because it isn’t cliché—and his heroism is of the heart, not of the body. As always, the book was gripping, and far funner than homework (well what isn’t?). While all the books in this series have been good so far, they’re more of an “average good” than an “extraordinary good.” But they are fully recommended

The Raging Fires

Rating: 8 of 10

Merlin’s life seems perfect now that he’s been reunited with his teacher, Cairpre, his mother, Elen, and his sister, Rhia. But a terrifying prophecy has suddenly come to life—and Merlin is, as even a poem says, apparently the only one to do anything about it. Valdearg, “Wings of Fire,” a terrible dragon, has awakened from a sleep enchanted by Merlin’s grandfather, Tuatha, determined to avenge “his dreams yet unhatched.” As Merlin must journey to find a way to stop Valdearg, presumably heading to his death—for the poem forewarns of it—he meets two deer people, Eremon and Eo-Lahallia “Hallia.” Tragedy befalls the threesome and leaves two left to grieve for the one lost. In spite of the sorrow, they must carry on the quest Merlin began—and unravel the riddle of the poem, and the riddles elsewhere in Fincayra, in order to save the people they love most.

I had a great time reading this novel by T.A. Barron; however, the lack of depth in the plot prevents me from giving it nine stars. There’s always a surprising cliffhanger at the end of each chapter that forces one to keep reading (and thankfully the end of the book is always resolved!), there’s always some humor roundabout, and there’s always danger which could cost Merlin his life. But . . . come on. By now we know that in an eleven- or thirteen- or whatever-book-series-this-is, Merlin just ain’t gonna die anytime soon. And it was written in such a way that it didn’t sound nearly as dangerous as it obviously was—and there were, yes, some places in the plot which were rather unrealistic. As always, the characters weren’t incredibly well-developed—I can understand that because it is a young-adult book, but I, personally, love well-developed characters. (They’re not the icing on the cake—they’re the cake itself. And if the cake isn’t good, what kind of frosting can cover it up?) Hallia, for example, seemed too much like Rhia a lot of the time, though she is much more distrustful and cold where Rhia is fun-loving and optimistic.

As with The Seven Songs, the best part of this book was its lifelong truths. Love is always a better route than anger. Understanding is far more powerful than physical strength. And even when magic is stripped away from us—even if we only believe that it’s been ripped from our flimsy grasp—we find that love is, by far, the most powerful magic of all.

The Seven Songs

Rating: 8 of 10

#itsbeensolongsinceididabookreviewialmostforgothow

Merlin’s defeat of the evil king at the Shrouded Castle has brought about a Council around Estonahenj, one that will decide what is to be done with the restoration of Fincayra. The Council, somewhat grudgingly, allows young Merlin to take the magical Flowering Harp into Fincayra, where by a mere pluck of the string the Harp will create flourishing life in the valleys and hills. But Merlin has let pride get in the way of his task—and he decides that his own desire (bringing his mother to Fincayra) is more important than his promises to mend Fincayra’s desolation. His folly produces a wild string of events in which his mother Elen is befallen with a horrible sickness which will kill her within a month—and Merlin must learn “the essential soul” of the Seven Songs of wizardry, created by his grandfather Tuatha, and then pass into the Otherworld to find the Elixir of Dagda, in order to save her—all within that month’s time.

You can see the rating I gave the book above, but while it was a gripping story, I don’t know if it fully deserves the equivalent of four stars. Like its predecessor, it tended to be overly dramatized and its “comic relief”—a sorry “jester” who couldn’t make anyone laugh if he deranged him or her first—was stupid, not funny. Still, I think this book had more profoundness than The Lost Years, particularly because “the essential soul” of each song is an everlasting truth. I especially like “every living thing is precious somehow.” (I got to relate that to Martin Eden, by Jack London, today.) Another thing I liked about the book was its several references to Stonehenge—first in the ruins of the Shrouded Castle, then when Merlin learns that he’s been prophesied to build an Estonahenj in a land near Gwynedd (or in a land which we now call England!). Since recently for my anthropology/introduction to archaeology class I was assigned to look around the Internet to find myths/theories about the erection of Stonehenge, this part was even more interesting to me. Also, the sword Merlin carries will be called Excalibur in the future. I’m a lover of parallels and plot lines that all tie together, so all of these references were pretty cool.

Should you read it? I liked it, but I would recommend it, in general, for a younger age audience—maybe fifteen and under. Though it holds truths that even adults won’t hold in contempt, it is definitely not written for them.