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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
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:
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I was ambivalent about whether Alice was a fridging, since it was also a moment of glory that no one else could match. I'm sure it did end up being one if it's all just about Quentin learning not to be such a selfish asshole.
I also found the book really frustrating in terms of Grossman obviously having the chops to write a book I'd love, and having that book periodically exist, then get taken over by anvilicious messages and characters I either didn't like or didn't care about.
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I'd recommend that -- the second book is allll about Julia and different ways of doing magic, and other people who don't go the /Hogwarts/ Brakebills route, and it was fascinating. In many ways it's a corrective to Quentin's POV in the first book. But then something shitty happens to her which is kind of logical re the narrative, but also really sucks and pissed me off. It is the most cliched kind of punishment for a female character to get.
I was ambivalent about whether Alice was a fridging, since it was also a moment of glory that no one else could match. I'm sure it did end up being one if it's all just about Quentin learning not to be such a selfish asshole.
I didn't read it so much as a fridging when all I had read was the first book, too, but after the second, and especially after some really spoilery stuff in the third, almost every female character is All About Quentin and his Emotional Journeys, and that just got so old.
I also found the book really frustrating in terms of Grossman obviously having the chops to write a book I'd love, and having that book periodically exist, then get taken over by anvilicious messages and characters I either didn't like or didn't care about.
YES
PRECISELY
Grossman can obviously really write but what he thought he should be Writing Seriously About kept absolutely killing what he was actually good at. I also don't think he's a sexist per se, if that makes sense -- and I'm sure he would think of himself as non-sexist -- but I just disliked seeing everything through Quentin so much. It wasn't even that Quentin was so awful (altho apparently I found him a lot easier to take than most of my friends who read this did), it just felt airless inside his head. The really strong female characters who were at the service of Quentin's Learning Stuff just made it even worse, because their stories were far more interesting. Everyone was more interesting than Quentin! It was like if all seven Narnia books had been narrated by pre-conversion Edmund.
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I can't imagine any writer deliberately setting out to write as tedious a viewpoint character as Thomas Covenant, so I'm figuring this was an unfortunate accidental side effect of a very sincere effort to write important books using fantasy tropes to Say Things that no one else ever ever said before.
Yes on the Edmund thing, or actually Eustace, I think. Quentin is Eustace. That's dangerous stuff to play with.
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But fantasy (genre) works still get less respect, so we get lead-fingered writers coming in and being magisterially insightful and helpful and explaining fantasy for the poor genre-bound savages. I'd prefer these people to keep writing mediocre literary novels without bothering with the fantasy stuff.
I have not read everything, but I have not yet seen a fantasy work that succeeds in reconciling feminism, or at least the idea that women are people who aren't men, with traditional mythologies and folklore. I would like to read a well-written, literary, intelligent fantasy novel in which those two social movements explicitly wrangle for fantasy's soul, because the reliance on those old folktales contributes to a corrosive conservatism in genre fantasy. (Possibly that's what Grossman is telling us, unwittingly I think.)
It is especially disappointing that Grossman fell down on this so badly, because Narnia specifically is the focus of much conversation revolving around "the problem of Susan" and it would be a great place to stage such a revisitation. Better than the more overtly problematic Middle-Earth, I think, because more superficially innocent and child-friendly.
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.....or no, I looked at he actually says to Le Guin "you went back to Ged’s story after 28 years" so I don't even fucking know what to think there. TEHANU IS NOT ABOUT GED, LEV (and it was 18 years, not 28)
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HAH
YES
And yeah, on the "mainstream writer tries to reinvent the genre wheel" bit, except he wrote a couple of genre books before this one, didn't he? (At least they weren't as bad as Doris Lessing taking on science fiction....) And yes, I thought this trilogy was in a sense responding much more to Hogwarts than Narnia. Pullman gets a lot of shit (and I didn't even like his books really), but his worldbuilding, at least in the first book, was pretty solid. Fillory feels like cardboard. But I think it's supposed to feel like cardboard, and it's the same problem re Quentin's character: how do you write about someone who's rather shallow and boring in a non-boring way?
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