Magic Ian

Week 19: Magician – Raymond E. Feist

Recommended by: Natalie Jacobs

I must confess that I had my doubts about this before I started Magician. I worried that it would be a rather hackneyed derivative vanilla fantasy, outdated in a time of increasingly dark moral shades and anti-heroes within the genre. On the other hand, that which survives, often does so on merit, and Feist has been around since the '70s and '80s D&D and swords and sorcery heydey. The cover described it as 'The original masterwork of magic and adventure', to which I'd respond 'Yes and no', 'Pretty good rather than superlative' and 'Hell yes'. Which I suppose is a pretty positive outcome.

My initial fears seemed well-founded for the setting is as classic medieval western European with elves 'n' dwarves 'n' goblins as you're likely to come across, and the protagonist, Pug, is an orphan. Not that there is anything wrong with either of these things per se, more that it's reliant on being interesting enough in other ways – compelling narrative, interesting characters, solid world building – to excel in the field. And while very little is truly original, the idea of the riftwar and the invasion of the homeworld by outsiders, certainly puts a new spin on it with what is more of a sci fi trope. The fact that the Tsurani are not just a slightly fantastical version of feudal Japan/the Aztecs/Ancient Greece/insert real-world culture here, and we got to see things from their perspective a lot more than that of the average invader, gets double points from me.

The scope of the book is big, the world worth exploring, and plenty of interesting looking regions that we don't get to see on the inevitable maps in the prelims. This depth, the ideas and stories and references of the world as far bigger than what the reader can ever see, popularised if not invented by Tolkien, is what for me makes a setting come alive. This box is also satisfactorily ticked. And the passage of time and the geography covered, as well as the epic scale of the invasion ensured that the promise of magic and adventure (arguably more of the latter) was fulfilled.

One thing I didn't like, and this is a pet peeve of mine, was the naming. For me this is vital for both suspension of disbelief and the crafting of a world. Names matter and give a place a sense of identity, whether it's through solid conventions (Earthsea), linguistic tendencies (Middle-earth) or common English derivatives (Westeros). The more exotic a name, largely the more exotic a person or culture is from the Western European base. What I don't like is a mish-mash of real and imaginary names, Martin and Roland standing shoulder to shoulder with Kulgan and Pug (which always felt more like a nickname than a given name anyway). If your world is rooted in the real world, e.g. urban fantasy, then this is fine, but I find it jars in traditional fantasy settings such as this.

So over a period of years we watch our hero(es) grow up, find romance, fight the bad guys, save the kingdom, wield power in a variety of ways, and come home for tea. Not necessarily in that order. If fantasy is not your cup of tea, this wouldn't be my suggestion to try and make you broaden your horizons. But if like me you do enjoy this sort of thing, it's certainly worth your time. I'm invested enough to want to finish the trilogy and that's usually a good sign – the genre may tend towards the long side, but life is too short.

Countryphile

Week 18: A Month in the Country – J.L. Carr
Recommended by: Tim Davies

The novella is a much-maligned creature, often regarded as the novel's poor cousin, deemed an inferior work on the basis of its shorter length. Somehow it is treated as a less serious work; the author perceived as lazy and incapable of sustaining a longer narrative through either lack of ideas or lack of talent. That's one view, at least, though not for me, Clive.

As far as I'm concerned, novellas are ace. They are the embodiment of refinement, the author's craft firmly on show as it carefully delivers a great idea, an important point, a wonderful character portrait, without wasting a word. To me, that's true mastery. And when you look at such great works as The Old Man and the Sea, Of Mice and Men, The Great Gatsby, Animal Farm, all of which could conceivably be considered novellas, or at the very least, novels erring firmly on the short side, small is definitely beautiful.

A Month in the Country certainly subscribes to this school, pushing for a place at the table of the elite. We join Tom Birkin as he looks back on the quiet summer he spent in Yorkshire recuperating from the horrors of World War One. And it's a quiet book; there's no action here, just the gentle rhythms of small lives going on in the way they had done for centuries past. There is a tremendously strong sense of place, of calm, the feeling that things are both exactly as they should be, and also that such a world has irrevocably been left behind. I was strongly reminded of Cider With Rosie, another wonderful window into the past and a seemingly simpler way of life.

And yet for all the peace of the village and the time to single-mindedly focus on the task of uncovering a wall painting that Birkin has dedicated himself to, the violence of the recent past haunts him: "Hell? Passchendaele had been hell." While he has the solitude he needs to heal, Birkin also develops surprisingly complex relationships with some of the villagers during his short sojourn. Whether it is solidarity with the damaged Moon, the whiff of romance with Alice, the sibling-like qualities of his exchanges with Kathy, there is a depth there perhaps not immediately apparent.

Credit here the author; the way he distills an intricate range of human thoughts, feelings and interactions in a manner that appears the simplest task confirms that we are in the presence of a master craftsman. Like the narrative, there is nothing flashy about the prose. Instead it is well-chosen, down to earth, full of nature, wisdom, life. And that's all there is to it really: a beautiful little story, beautifully told.

The failing marriage plot

Week 17: Us – David Nicholls
Recommended by: Elisabeth Van Willigenburg-van Dijl

tl; dr – A very David Nicholls kind of book.

The art of following up a smash hit is a tricky one in any kind of artistic sphere. Do you stick or twist? Go with the successful formula that gained you the fame in the first place or risk the wrath of fans with something completely different? That was the dilemma facing David Nicholls after winning both plaudits and popularity with One Day.

The short answer to that question was to not change a winning team. Us shares much in common with his previous books so it comes as little surprise to discover a less than perfect male protagonist in what is essentially a rom-com in book form, albeit one which probably bridges the gender divide more than most of Hollywood's output under that banner. If you liked his previous books – and I did – you'll find much to enjoy here. If your reaction to them was a bit meh, this isn't going to change your mind either. It's not a game changer but if Nicholls is to be charged with being a one trick pony, it's a good trick and he's damn good at it.

To sum up the plot, fiftysomething Douglas, a straight-laced middle Englander, finds out that his wife Connie, a free spirit artsy type, wants to leave him. This happens shortly before they are about to take the summer holiday of a lifetime, a Grand Tour of Europe with their son, surly teenage Albie. They decide to take the trip anyway. Douglas sees it as his last chance saloon to save his marriage. Comedy ensues as a result of numerous gaffes and events in a variety of western European cities. In the hands of a less gifted observer, this could obviously be terrible and clichéd with archetypes more than characters, but Nicholls' gift is to understand relationships very well, to put human creations at the centre of his work, and to make the unlikely plausible.

His relationships are complex creations, almost as much as the characters themselves. Again, the characters could be caricatures if handled less well, figures to serve as everymen (and everywomen), rather than personalities who also happen to have everymannish qualities. They're not perfect, any of them, least of all Douglas, who it is clear has said and done some things that will no doubt leave many readers facepalming and cursing, yet possibly eliciting empathy and understanding as we sit reminiscing and regretting the myriad idiotic things we ourselves have said and done.

If anything, I actually found the characters all a little too unlikeable in their own ways to truly root for them. I cared and I certainly wanted to know both what would happen, and about Douglas and Connie's history, the narrative jumping smoothly back and forth between past and present. Also, you know there are going to be surprises and emotional twists and turns, and while not predictable as such, neither are they totally unexpected. There's nothing like One Day's emotional sucker punch here.

This probably comes across more harshly than intended. Let's be clear about it: I did really enjoy it, it's an entertaining story, with plenty of heart, soul and human moments, as well as genuine humour and perception. Anyone can relate to some facets of almost every character, which coupled with a solid grasp of narrative drive is what makes it so eminently readable. It's just not going to change your mind on David Nicholls. And I'm generally ok with that; he is clearly very good at what he does. I'd just like to see him try something a bit different, take a step outside of his comfort zone and see what happens when he turns his undoubted talent to it.