Quentin Coldwater is an unhappy, self-absorbed, self-conscious teenager obsessed with a children’s fantasy series set in a magical world called Fillory, which is very clearly meant to evoke Narnia. Then he learns that he has a talent for magic, and is whisked away to a fancy prep school for magicians, Brakebills. At first he thinks his dream has come true. But soon enough, he realizes that he’s still an unhappy, self-absorbed, self-conscious teenager, only now he’s obsessed with real magic.

I read this in preparation for being on a panel on portal fantasy. I had avoided it until then because all I had heard about it was that it was published as a mainstream literary novel rather than as genre fantasy (you can tell because it’s subtitled “a novel,”) was about how fantasy sucks and had the most unlikable protagonist since Thomas Covenant.

All that turned out to be correct. Sort of. But I liked it way more than I expected to, primarily because the “fantasy sucks” and “protagonist is unbearable” elements don’t come in, or at least aren’t major themes, until about the last third of the book. The first two-thirds, which is set in Brakebills, is terrific – distinctly on the cynical side and weighed down by Quentin’s depression and solipsism, but written in absolutely wonderful prose and full of vivid images, funny lines, and a genuine sense of magic.

As I read that part, I couldn’t understand why the book had such a bad reputation among fantasy readers. Sure, it emphasizes that magic is difficult, that magicians are not the most fun people in the world, and that Quentin is using magic to run away from essentially everything else, but it’s also hugely enjoyable to read as fantasy.

I loved the Brakebills section. The prose is to die for. It’s extremely well-structured, with a great use of foreshadowing to create surprising yet beautifully set-up plot twists.

On the con side, the characterization has problems and it isn’t just a lack of likability. Other than Quentin, who is more distinct as he’s seen from the inside, many of the characters are so similar that they blend together. Virtually all of the characters are obsessive, unhappy, self-absorbed, driven, and jaded. The main characters have maybe one or two traits in addition to that set, such as “punk,” “brave,” or “pretentious.”

However, lots of teenagers are unhappy and self-absorbed, so I read the Brakebills part thinking that Quentin and his buddies weren’t that bad and the readers who loathed him probably didn’t remember being a teenager that well.

Then he graduates from Brakebills. Almost immediately, I realized why readers hated him. And soon after, I realized why fantasy readers frequently hate the book. Spoilers ahoy!

The last section did have some very clever plotting. But it was not enjoyable to read. If that list of character traits sounded off-putting, it becomes far more so once the characters are no longer teenagers obsessively studying magic, but are young adults obsessively indulging in joyless hedonism. And the theme of Quentin using magic to avoid engaging with life expands to a hammered-in message that magic and Narnia would suck if they were real, and people who enjoy imagining visiting Narnia are idiots because obviously it never occurred to them that it would suck in real life.

As for the moment that made me realize why everyone hates Quentin: hi there, infidelity, my least favorite plot element of all time! It’s not that I find cheating unforgivable or the worst possible thing anyone can do. It’s that I find the drama associated with it both painful and boring. This was particularly the case here given that Quentin is not only a cheater, but develops a really ugly misogynist streak. It’s clearly written as a bad thing and not something readers should agree with, but it’s still very unpleasant to read.

Fillory felt very slight compared to Brakebills; all suck and no joy. There’s talking animals, but they’re obsessive and boring. (The concept of this was pretty funny – of course a talking bear would be primarily interested in honey – but the execution leaned heavily on “and that’s why it wouldn’t actually be fun to meet a talking animal.”) The humans, again, are under-characterized, with exactly two traits each apart from the pre-set “obsessive, self-absorbed” set.

While Brakebills really did feel magical, Fillory felt thin and dull; less real than regular real life. I’m guessing this was deliberate and the point was that Narnia’s worldbuilding doesn’t hold together, but, again, it didn’t make the section enjoyable reading.

The pay-off of earlier set-up – the niffin, the Beast, the clock-witch – was brilliantly done. But it was all in service of the relentless “everything sucks” theme. Also, the reveal that the Fillory writer – the alt! C. S. Lewis – was a pedophile went beyond anvillicious and into cement truck.

I looked on Goodreads and saw that there are two more books. I attempted to get a sense of what they were like while avoiding spoilers, and was interested to see that the second is partly narrated by the most interesting character in the first book, and that readers seemed to think the third was actually uplifting. It’s not that I require uplift in everything. But I’m not going to read more of the series if it’s all soul-sucking joylessness like the real world and Fillory sections. However, I would definitely read more if it’s more like the Brakebills sections. Also, the moments of uplift in The Magicians were beautiful, so I know Grossman can do that well.

If you can comment without major spoilers, I’d be interested to hear what those of you who’ve read further books thought of them.

The Magicians: A Novel

From: [identity profile] rachelmanija.livejournal.com


There's books I love that have unlikable characters - Donna Tartt's The Secret History is one of my favorite books, and it's also about a campus of jaded, self-centered, obsessive young adults - but they can't be unlikable and uninteresting. Tartt's monomaniacal characters were fun to read about even if I wouldn't want to meet them.

It also helped that they weren't constantly miserable, and had intense feelings about each other. The narrator loved his friends, no matter how awful they were. Quentin doesn't care about anyone but the girl he loves, is a total asshole to, and then blames for himself being an asshole.


From: [identity profile] sienamystic.livejournal.com


I also love The Secret History but was disappointed in most of The Goldfinch for a lot of the same reasons that I was interested in The Magicians but ultimately didn't want to keep reading the books or, for that matter, reread this one - the whole "main character is mostly drunk and/or high for vast swaths of the book." I just get a vague sense of sympathetic nausea and it's a boring trope for me, especially when combined with "and it's because they're full of ennui! Geddit?"

On the other hand, the snow geese scene in The Magicians...shivers. I wish I liked his plots better.

From: [identity profile] anglerfish07.livejournal.com


I can read books about characters that are unlikeable but interesting, provided they were unselfish, had a passion or cared about their loved ones, and other people. But entitled, mean and indifferent characters? No, thank you. :/ Makes me glad that I never read Lev Grossman's "The Magicians".
.

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