The Black Cauldron, by Lloyd Alexander

[rachelmanija]

This was the first book which I read, though the second in the series. It makes sense on its own, though you’ll miss some plot set-up and seeing how all the characters met if you start here.

Taran has grown up substantially since the first book (thank goodness), enough so that Gwydion invites him into an attempt to steal the zombie-making cauldron from Arawn. Eilonwy is not invited. I will be charitable and assume it’s because she’s too young rather than because she’s a girl, because she was at least as competent as Taran on the last adventure. To Taran’s dismay, he’s given a job that’s supposed to be well away from the battle, put under the authority of the wise warrior bard Adaon, and stuck with the arrogant and hostile Ellidyr, prince of Pen Llarcau, who makes up for his unhappy and penniless state as the youngest son of an unimportant kingdom by taking out his insecurities on Taran.

But Gwydion’s plan doesn’t survive contact with the enemy, Eilonwy (and Gurgi) come along without an invitation, Ellidyr is even more trouble than he seems, and the group very quickly not only becomes key to the mission, but finds that its goal is much more complicated, and carries a higher price, than they ever imagined.

While Alexander is not so good at straight-up villains and noble warriors (Arawn never appears onstage, and Adaon is overly perfect), he excels at comically flawed personalities and twisted heroes. Ellidyr is much more interesting than the standard arrogant angst-muffin with a poorly-hidden heart of gold who would normally take up his plot-space, and the funny-sinister keepers of the cauldron are a playful-creepy take on the three Fates.

But what makes this novel so memorable is the unflinching though age-appropriate depiction of the pain and difficulty of hard choices, real heroism, and growing up. No one does Pyrrhic victories like Alexander, and this book is the one which begins the theme of the sacrifice and heartbreak necessary to win a war, to change a society, to live a full life. These are not awesomely depressing books at all, but it did not surprise me one bit to learn that Alexander served in WWII.

The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain)



I do think Adaon is a bit perfect, but how heartbreaking is the retrospective realization that he gave Taran a crucial decision because he didn’t trust himself to be objective when he knew that one choice would result in his own death, and that his sweet dream of flowers springing from bare rocks was of Eilonwy casting flowers on his crypt?

I usually hate it when it’s set up that some object will cost a party greatly, and then they pay for it with a convenient magic object. But Alexander sold me on how much Taran valued Adaon’s brooch, not only for its use but for how it gave him the wisdom and maturity he craved, and how wrenching it was for him to give up something wonderful in exchange for an object of evil that he only planned to destroy.

I had forgotten that not only did Ellidyr try to steal Taran’s glory, he actually tried to kill him! And yet I am always heartbroken at his death. Does he remind anyone else of a run-up to Westmark’s Justin? The whole climax is beautifully planned, both structurally and thematically, and deeply felt: Morgant going over to the bad, Ellidyr to the good, the whole company helplessly watching, and Gwydion charging in not in the nick of time but too late.



It’s such a somber book, even with the hypochondriac Gwystyl and Fflewddur Fflam’s snapping harp strings. When I read it as a child, its recognition of the price of true heroism spoke to me; it still speaks to me now.

Comments

[tool-of-satan.livejournal.com]

I can live without puns, but still sounds worth a try. I should read more Mieville anyway. (I know, he has better books.)

[rachelmanija.livejournal.com]

He does, but there's a correlation between quality and grimdarkness.

[tool-of-satan.livejournal.com]

So I gather. Although I thought Embassytown was good and it is not particularly grim. And I hear Railsea is fun.

[rachelmanija.livejournal.com]

I haven't read either of those yet. I mean to, though.

[tool-of-satan.livejournal.com]

Embassytown is good solid science fiction. And it manages to do interesting things with language and its relation to thought without triggering my allergy to strong Sapir-Whorf. Which I admit is an idiosyncratic reason to like a novel.