Review: Mansfield Park by Jane Austen

Even the best authors in the world sometimes put out something that… well, isn’t up to their usual standards. For Jane Austen, that book was “Mansfield Park” — her prose is typically excellent, and she weaves a memorable story about a poor young lady in the middle of a wealthy, dysfunctional family. But put bluntly, Fanny Price lacks the depth and complexity of Austen’s other heroines.

As a young girl, Fanny Price was sent from her poor family to live with her wealth relatives, the Bertrams, and was raised along with her four cousins Tom, Edmund, Maria and Julia. Despite being regarded only little better than a servant (especially by the fawning, cheap Mrs. Norris), Fanny is pretty happy — especially since Edmund is kind and supportive of her at all times. But then the charming, fashionable Crawford siblings arrive in the neighborhood, sparking off some love triangles (particularly between Maria and Henry Crawford, even though she’s already engaged).

And the whole thing becomes even more confused when Henry becomes intrigued by Fanny’s refusal to be charmed by him as the others are. But when she rejects his proposal, she ends up banished from her beloved Mansfield Park… right before a devastating scandal and a perilous illness strikes the Bertram family. Does Fanny still have a chance at love and the family she’s always been with?

The biggest problem with “Mansfield Park” is Fanny Price — even Austen’s own mother didn’t like her. She’s a very flat, virtuously dull heroine for this story; unlike Austen’s other heroines she doesn’t have much personality growth or a personal flaw to overcome. And despite being the protagonist, Fanny seems more like a spectator on the outskirts of the plot until the second half (when she has a small but pivotal part to play in the story).

Fortunately she’s the only real flaw in this book. Austen’s stately, vivid prose is full of deliciously witty moments (Aunt Norris “consoled herself for the loss of her husband by considering that she could do very well without him”), some tastefully-handled scandal, and a delicate house-of-romantic-cards that comes crashing down to ruin people’s lives (and improve others). And she inserts some pointed commentary on people who care more about society’s opinions than on morality.

And the other characters in the book are pretty fascinating as well — especially since Edmund, despite being a virtuous clergyman-in-training, is an intelligent and strong-willed man. The Bertrams are a rather dysfunctional family with a stern patriarch, a fluttery ethereal mother, a playboy heir and a couple of spoiled girls — Maria in particular develops a crush on Henry, but doesn’t bother to break off her engagement until it’s too late. And the Crawfords are all flash and sparkle: a pair of charming, shallow people who are essentially hollow.

“Mansfield Park” suffers from a rather insipid heroine, but the rest of the book is vintage Austen — lies, romance, scandal and a dance of manners and society.

Review: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

Gothic romances were all the rage in the late 1700s and early 1800s — sprawling, eerie melodramas full of sublimated sex and violence.

And rather than her usual straightforward comedies of manners, Jane Austen once wrote a mellow satire of the very mockable genre — think a parody of “Twilight” or “50 Shades of Grey” as written by one of the greats. “Northanger Abbey” is a clever and slightly tongue-in-cheek little novel about a girl who needs to learn the difference between fantasy and reality… and yes, there’s some love tangles and deceptions too.

Catherine Morland is an innocent young country girl with a love of gothic romances, and has lives an unremarkably life in a country parish. But then the wealthy Allens invite her to Bath during their vacation there, and of course she accepts — and through balls and old acquaintances, she becomes friends with two pairs of siblings. One is the Thorpes, the uncouth dandy John and his manipulative sister Isabella, and the more mysterious Tilneys, the charming Henry and sweet Eleanor.

When the Tilneys decide to leave Bath, Catherine is invited with them, to the vast stone manorhouse of Northanger Abbey — which is as gloomy, eerie and remote as her gothic-loving heart could wish for. What’s more, she believes that there are dangerous secrets in Northanger Abbey, related to the suspicious death of the late Mrs. Tilney. But Catherine has some lessons to learn about reality and fantasy: that everyday world is not nearly as melodramatic and twisted as her novels, and that it has its own dangers and deceptions.

Unlike all the other books Austen wrote, “Northanger Abbey” is a careful balance of two different styles — a parody of all the lurid excesses of classic gothic novels (she even lists a bunch of real-life gothic novels!), and it’s a subtle coming-of-age tale about a young girl who needs to figure out the difference between reality and fantasy. There’s big spooky manors, sinister noblemen, mysterious deaths… you do the math.

And Austen clearly had a lot of fun with this book, enhancing her usual formal style with a bit of satirical melodrama (“A thousand alarming presentiments of evil to her beloved Catherine from this terrific separation must oppress her heart with sadness”). And while the plot is sprinkled with sinister pseudo-gothic hints, Austen also takes the time to sketch out some romantic deceptions and tangles, as well as some deliciously arch dialogue (“I was not thinking of anything.” “That is artful and deep, to be sure…”).

The only part that falls short is the climactic encounter between Henry and Catherine… which is completely skimmed over, and related only in a distant vague style. “I leave it to my reader’s sagacity” is not a satisfying way to handle that sort of romantically-charged scene.

Austen also has fun with Catherine as the unlikely heroine of the piece, especially since she makes it clear that Catherine comes from a very mundane, undramatic background. She’s sweet, naive, wide-eyed and essentially good-hearted, but she has a lot to learn about reality (especially about the golddigging family that befriends her). And Henry is an oddity among Austen’s heroes, being a clever silver-tongued charmer with a heart of gold who likes to gently tease Catherine.

Quick, light and full of teasing humor, “Northanger Abbey” is an oddity in Jane Austen’s string of brilliant novels — but being a clever, well-plotted spoof doesn’t make it any less charming. A delight.

Review: Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

One of the Dashwood daughters is smart, down-to-earth and sensible. The other is wildly romantic and sensitive.

And in a Jane Austen novel, you can guess that there are going to be romantic problems aplenty for both of them — along with the usual entailment issues, love triangles, sexy bad boys and societal scandals. “Sense and Sensibility” is a quietly clever, romantic little novel that builds up to a dramatic peak on Marianne’s romantic troubles, while also quietly exploring Elinor’s struggles.

When Mr. Dashwood dies, his entire estate is entailed to his weak son John and snotty daughter-in-law Fanny. His widow and her three daughters are left with little money and no home. Over the next few weeks, the eldest daughter Elinor begins to fall for Fanny’s studious, quiet brother Edward… but being the down-to-earth one, she knows she hasn’t got a chance. Her impoverished family soon relocates to Devonshire, where a tiny cottage is being rented to them by one of Mrs. Dashwood’s relatives — and Marianne soon attracts the attention of two men. One is the quiet, much older Colonel Brandon, and the other is the dashing and romantic Willoughby.

But things begin to spiral out of control when Willoughby seems about to propose to Marianne… only to abruptly break off his relationship with her. And during a trip to London, both Elinor and Marianne discover devastating facts about the men they are in love with — both of them are engaged to other women. And after disaster strikes the Dashwood family, both the sisters will discover what real love is about…

At its heart, “Sense and Sensibility” is about two girls with completely opposite personalities, and the struggle to find love when you’re either too romantic or too reserved for your own good. As well as, you know, the often-explored themes in Austen’s novels — impoverished women’s search for love and marriage, entailment, mild scandal, and the perils of falling for a sexy bad boy who cares more for money than for true love… assuming he even knows what true love is.

Austen’s formal style takes on a somewhat more melancholy flavor in this book, with lots of powerful emotions and vivid splashes of prose (“The wind roared round the house, and the rain beat against the windows”); and she introduces a darker tone near the end. Still, there’s a slight humorous tinge to her writing, especially when she’s gently mocking Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood’s melodrama (“They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in every reflection that could afford it”).

And Marianne and Elinor make excellent dual heroines for this book — that still love and cherish each other, even though their polar opposite personalities frequently clash. What’s more, they each have to become more like the other before they can find happiness. There’s also a small but solid supporting cast — the hunting-obsessed Sir John, the charming Willoughby (who has some nasty stuff in his past), the emotional Mrs. Dashwood, and the gentle, quiet Colonel Brandon, who shows his love for Marianne in a thousand small ways.

“Sense and Sensibility” is an emotionally powerful, beautifully written tale about two very different sisters, and the rocky road to finding a lasting love. Not as striking as “Pride and Prejudice,” but still a deserving classic.

Review: Emma by Jane Austen

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition” is a suitable heroine for Jane Austen’s lightest, frothiest novel. While “Emma” is not nearly as dramatic as Austen’s other works, it is an enchanting little comedy of manners in which a young woman with the best intentions meddles in others’ love lives… with only the faintest idea of how people (including herself) actually feel.

After matchmaking her governess Miss Taylor, Emma Woodhouse considers herself a natural at bringing people together. She soon becomes best buddies with Harriet, a sweet (if not very bright) young woman who is the “natural daughter of somebody.” Emma becomes determined to pair Harriet with someone deserving of her (even derailing a gentleman-farmer’s proposal), such as the smarmy, charming Mr. Elton. When Emma’s latest attempt falls apart, she finds that getting someone OUT of love is a lot harder than getting them INTO it.

At around the same time, two people that Emma has heard about her entire life have arrived — the charming Frank Churchill, and the reserved, remote Miss Jane Fairfax (along with rumors of a married man’s interest in her). Emma begins a flirtatious friendship with Frank, but for some reason is unable to get close to Miss Fairfax. As she navigates the secrets and rumors of other people’s romantic lives, she begins to realize who she has been in love with all along.

Out of all Jane Austen’s books, “Emma” is the frothiest and lightest — there aren’t any major scandals, lives ruined, reputations destroyed, financial crises or sinister schemes. There’s just a little intertwined circle of people living in a country village, and how one young woman tries to rearrange them in the manner that she genuinely thinks is best. Of course, in true comedy style everything goes completely wrong.

And despite the formal stuffiness of the time, Austen wrote the book in a languidly sunny style, threading it with a complex web of cleverly orchestrated rumors and romantic tangles. There’s some moments of seriousness (such as Emma’s rudeness to kind, silly Miss Bates), but it’s also laced with some entertaining dialogue (“Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way”) and barbed humor (the ridiculous and obnoxious Mrs. Elton).

Modern readers tend to be unfairly squicked by the idea of Emma falling for a guy who’s known her literally all her life, but Austen makes the subtle relationship between Knightley and Emma one of affectionate bickering and beautiful romantic moments (“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me”).

Emma is a character who is likable despite her flaws — she’s young, bright, well-meaning and assured of her own knowledge of the human heart, but also naive and sometimes snobbish. She flits around like a clumsy butterfly, but is endearing even when she screws up. Mr. Knightley is her ideal counterpoint, being enjoyably blunt and sharp-witted at all times. And there’s a fairly colorful supporting cast — Emma’s neurotic but sweet dad, her kindly ex-governess, the charming Frank, the fluttery Miss Bates, and even the smarmy Mr. Elton and his bulldozing wife.

“Emma” is the most lightweight and openly comedic of all Jane Austen’s novels, with a likable (if clueless) heroine and a multilayered plot full of half-hidden feelings. A lesser delight.

Review: Persuasion by Jane Austen

In Jane Austen’s time, young women were taught that it was practically their duty to “marry well” — someone of at least equal social/financial standing.

But if a woman turned down a suitor for being poor, she ran the risk of losing the man she loved. That’s the problem for Anne Elliott, the heroine of Jane Austen’s final novel “Persuasion” — a delicate romance that takes place AFTER the romance, rejection and heartrending sorrow. There’s some slight roughness around the edges, but the story and the characters are simply brilliant.

Eight years ago, Anne Elliott was engaged to the handsome, intelligent and impoverished sailor Frederick Wentworth, but was persuaded to dump him by the family friend Lady Russell. Now she’s twenty-seven (ancient by the time’s standards), and her vain father Sir Walter is facing financial ruin. So he decides to relocate to Bath and rent out the vast family estate — and it turns out that the new tenant is Frederick’s brother-in-law. Of course, Anne still loves Frederick, but he doesn’t seem to feel the same, especially since he’s rumored to be interested in some younger, flirtier girls.

And Anne’s worries increase when she joins her family in Bath, where her father is attempting to live the lifestyle he feels he deserves (since he’s a baronet). His heir, William Elliott, recently reestablished contact with his relatives — and he seems very interested in Anne. But Anne suspects that he has ulterior motives… even if she doesn’t realize how Frederick truly feels about her.

It’s pretty obvious that Jane Austen wrote “Persuasion” late in her life — not only is Anne Elliott older than her other heroines, but she seems to have been more sympathetic to women who bowed to society’s “persuasions” rather than defying it and receiving the consequences both good and bad. This was the last book that Austen wrote before her untimely death, and it was only published posthumously.

As a result, the book can be a little rough and the story is rather simple. But Austen’s writing is still intense and powerfully vivid. Her prose is elegant and smooth, and her dialogue is full of hidden facets. The half-hidden love story of Anne and Frederick is among Austen’s most skillful writing (“I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever”), and it’s virtually impossible not to be moved by it.

And Austen went out of her way to praise the self-made man, who got ahead through merit instead of birth (something that bugs Sir Walter). She also pokes holes in social climbers, vain aristocrats (“Few women could think more of their personal appearance than he did”), nasty family and false friends.

Anne herself is a very rare heroine, both then and now — she’s past her designated “marriage” years and would have been considered a lost cause. But she remains remains kind, thoughtful, quiet, intelligent, and as time goes on she starts to appreciate her own judgement instead of being “persuaded.” And Captain Wentworth is a vibrant portrayal of a strong man who worked his way to the top, but had to do so without the woman he loved.

Jane Austen’s last finished novel is a little rough in places, but the exquisite beauty of Frederick and Anne’s love story is simply staggering. Truly a masterpiece.

Review: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

“Pride and Prejudice” is undoubtedly one of the most beloved classic novels in history — it’s had countless adaptations, sequels and homages lavished on it over the years.

And Jane Austen’s grand opus is still beloved for a good reason. While it’s rather stuffily written much of the time, it has a vibrant core of witty dialogue and strong characters that shine like lanterns in the night — and the best part of it is the interplay between the two strong-willed main characters, whose initial dislike of one another blossoms into love once they learn how to overcome his pride and her prejudice.

The Bennett family is in an uproar when wealthy Mr. Bingley moves into the neighborhood, and Mrs. Bennett is especially happy when he takes a liking to the eldest Bennett daughter Jane — since their estate is entailed and there is no Mr. Bennett Jr., a good marriage is considered essential for at least one of the girls. But her forthright, independent sister Lizzie immediately butts heads with wealthy, aloof Mr. Darcy, who scorns the rural village and seems haughty about everything.

A flurry of proposals, road trips and friendships happen over the course of the following months, with Lizzie fending off her slimy cousin Mr. Collins, and befriending the flirty, hunky Wickham, who claims to have been wronged by Darcy. Lizzie believes Wickham’s account — and she’s in for a shock when Darcy unexpectedly proposes, and reveals what Wickham won’t tell her about both of their past lives, and what Wickham did to offend Darcy.

And finally things take a scandalous turn when Lizzie’s idiotic younger sister Lydia elopes with Wickham, while staying with a friend in Brighton. The family is plunged into disgrace, which also wrecks any chances of a halfway decent marriage for the other daughters. The only one who can set things right is Darcy, who will do whatever he must to make amends to Lizzie — and unwittingly establish himself as the man she loves as well…

Reading “Pride and Prejudice” is a bit like watching someone embroider a piece of cloth with subtle, intricate designs. Lots of balls, dances, visits and drawing room banter between Lizzie and virtually everyone else, and interwoven with some rather opinions from Jane Austen about haughty aristocrats, marriages of security, entailment, and the whole idea of what an ideal woman has (intellect and strength).

The only real problem: Jane Austen writes very much in the style of her literary era — it’s rather formal and stuffy much of the time, and the narrative is kept distant from the characters. So, not for casual readers.

But despite that formality, Austen’s brilliance as a writer is evident — she slowly unfolds the plot one act at a time, with several intricate subplots that tie together and play off each other. She also wrote some unbelievably sharp-edged dialogue with plenty of witty banter between Lizzie and Darcy (“I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine”). But Austen also weaves in startlingly romantic moments between them (“No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think anything wanting”).

It’s hard to imagine a better fictional couple than Lizzie and Darcy, despite their rocky start (a major-league snub at a dance). Both are witty, smart, and a bit snotty in their own ways, with quick minds and even quicker tongues. Darcy is a selfish, rather haughty man man who gradually becomes warm and kind, while Lizzie is strong, independent, and Darcy’s equal in every way. And neither will marry for anything but true love.

It also has a solid supporting cast: the painfully practical Charlotte Lucas, slimy clerics, virtuous-looking rakes, sisters ranging from saintly to snobby, and the lovable Mr. Bingley and perpetually optimistic Jane. Lizzie’s family also adds plenty of color to the story, including the screechy and hilariously mercurial Mrs. Bennett and the barb-tongued Mr. Bennett (“Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do”).

Despite its mildly stuffy style, “Pride and Prejudice” is the ultimate Jane Austen novel — a powerful and romantic story about two people who grow and change because of love. An absolute must-read.

Review: Shards of Glass by Michelle Sagara

Disclaimer: “Shards of Glass” is the first volume of a new series by Michelle Sagara, but it takes place in the same universe as her Elantra series, and harkens back to events from that series. So if you haven’t read that series, you’re going to be confused.

And it seemed to open with a lot of promise, since a magic school opens the doors for a lot of exploration of a fantasy world. And considering the magic school is actually alive, has a dragon for a chancellor and a giant spider for a librarian, “Shards of Glass” seems like it has a good basis for a fantasy whodunnit – but it feels like it gets tangled up in its own mysteries and doesn’t explore the Academia itself very much.

An ancient magic school called the Academia has been brought out of hibernation, and contains new students for the first time in centuries. A young homeless girl named Raven is brought there to find her best friend Robin, who is now a student at the Academia and who thought she would be happy and safe there. Unfortunately, she arrives just in time for a murder – and discovers a piece of glass under the body. In case you’re wondering, Raven collects pieces of glass, metal, and whatever other “treasures” catch her fancy.

But this is no ordinary glass – not only was it invisible before Raven picked it up, but it burns the hands of the Academia’s avatar, Killian. And as more mysterious murders pile up, Robin and the faculty of the Academia discover more mysterious, extremely dangerous glass and metal. They also have more questions about exactly who Raven is and what powers she has, as she might be the key to figuring out exactly what is trying to destroy the Academia.

The Academia itself is perhaps the weakest element of “Shards of Glass” – precisely because we don’t know much about it. Despite being a school of magic, we only meet a few students, don’t know much about what they teach, and don’t know much about daily life there. Michelle Sagara seems more intrigued by the idea of a living campus and immortal library being infiltrated by inexplicable powers. Fair enough, it is interesting. But it feels like we don’t know the Academia enough to worry about its possible destruction.

Instead, Sagara focuses on the whodunnit aspects of the plot, both the murderous and the magical. Her writing is solid and fairly atmospheric, although the characters tend to repeat things a lot (such as the glass not being visible until Raven got it). It’s only at the two-thirds mark that things start to coalesce and the many oddities – both with Raven and the attacks – are given some kind of answers, and the tension amps up as we find out more about what’s going on.

Raven herself is an interesting character – she has some traits in common with autistic people like highly individual priorities, issues with communication and single-minded focus. Yet it becomes clear soon after that her traits are the result of something else, and she herself isn’t what she seems. Robin seems like a fairly generic character, but similarly we learn that he’s not what he seems. Then there’s the eccentric Barrani Terrano, the draconic chancellor, the temperamental professor Larrantin, and the giant spider-librarian Starrante.

“Shards of Glass” takes a while to pull itself together, but once it does, Michelle Sagara’s spinoff book has some truly gripping twists and developments. For fans of her Chronicles of Elantra series, this would be a treat.

Review: Sky’s End by Marc J. Gregson

Note: I received a free copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

The Skylands make for some interesting world-building – vast floating islands, vast metal-plated sky-dragons, and seeming nothing below. 

But the biggest danger might come from your fellow trainees and/or friends in “Sky’s End,” the first book in a new sci-fi series by Marc J. Gregson. It’s reminiscent of books like Pierce Brown’s “Red Rising,” where tragedy hardens and propels a young man into seeking power, even as Gregson’s spare but evocative prose propels the story into a more epic, suspenseful territory.

After his uncle murdered his father, Conrad and his mother were reduced to Lows, living in grinding poverty while he tried to scheme a way to get his sister back from their uncle. But when his mother is killed in a gorgontaun attack, he decides to do the unthinkable: he will become his uncle’s heir by entering the Selection of the Twelve Trades, attain greatness in the Meritocracy, and be able to get in contact with his sister.

Turns out, Conrad is Selected for the most dangerous Trade: Hunter. Hunters dedicate themselves to hunting and killing gorgontauns, then harvesting what they need from the corpses. To make things even worse, his large, violent arch-nemesis Pound has also been Selected, and he’s just as hungry to Rise as Conrad is.

The first big challenge of these Hunters-in-training is the Gauntlet, a rigorous gorgontaun-hunting expedition that puts the noobs in command of their own vessels. Conrad quickly finds himself the lowest on the totem pole, serving first Pound and then the vicious, manipulative Sebastian. But he quickly discovers that Rising may not be the biggest problem he’ll face, as a new threat looms over the Gauntlet – one from a place he never dreamed existed.

“Sky’s End” uncoils its world-building as the story unfolds – at first we’re just introduced to floating islands and a society based rigidly on one’s ruthless ability to “rise” at all costs. But as the story unfolds, Gregson scatters in elements that raise questions about how this world came to be, such as the matter of how the islands float and whether the gorgontauns and other metal-plated predators are a natural part of the ecosystem.

All this is woven through a well-paced, brisk story with leanly-muscled writing reminiscent of Pierce Brown for a younger audience. Gregson also juggles various subplots and shifting character relationships, with people becoming hostile or friendly based on circumstances. At the same time, he spatters it with some solid action scenes, usually involving gorgontaun attacks on a wooden airship, and weaves in a brewing conspiracy that threatens the Skylands.

Conrad is a pretty complex hero as well. After his mother’s death, he’s a hardened, coldly-determined lone wolf who sees everyone else as obstacles to his rise to the top, but some of his fellow trainees and choice criticisms by one of the older Hunters forces him to see that nobody can rise if they isolate themselves. He doesn’t instantly become a “friendship is magic” type, but he does begin balancing human friendships with necessary political alliances and plots. And the supporting cast is pretty well-developed, including the brutish Pound, the mysterious Bryce, quiet mastermind Sebastian, and so on.

“Sky’s End” is a clever, complex skypunk novel that weaves solid world-building into a complex, well-written thriller – and it leaves plenty of space for further adventures. Definitely a good read.

Review: The Dark Is Rising Sequence

The fantasy genre has always had a strong connection to Celtic mythology and British folklore, especially if you can somehow weave Arthurian lore into it. And nowhere are those bonds more evident than in Susan Cooper’s “The Dark Is Rising Sequence,” five timelessly lovely books about an ancient war between good and evil that centers on a small group of children. It sounds simplistic, but Cooper’s haunting writing and masterful command of atmosphere is unparalleled.

In “Over Sea, Under Stone,” the three Drew children come to stay with family friend Merriman Lyon. While messing around in his attic, they discover an ancient treasure map that leads to a hidden grail… if they can figure out what the map’s writing and symbols mean. However, they soon discover that they are not the only ones looking for the grail – three sinister people are also in pursuit, and they will do whatever it takes to claim the prize.

“The Dark Is Rising” shifts its focus to Will Stanton, whose wintry eleventh birthday brings about a terrible and beautiful change. He learns from Merriman that he is the last of the immortal Old Ones who are fighting the evil Dark, and as the power of the Dark grows, Will must gather the six Signs that can stop them. But he soon learns that he is not the only one in danger – the Dark is threatening his beloved family as well.

“Greenwitch” brings together the Drews and Will Stanton at a seaside town in Cornwall, where the grail from the first book has been stolen. Will and Merriman work on Old Ones stuff, Jane is haunted by nightmares about the Greenwitch, a symbolic weaving of branches and leaves cast into the sea, and a sinister artist captures Barney. But the Greenwitch is not just a tangle of sticks – it’s alive with wild magic that neither Old Ones nor the Dark can control.

Then there’s “The Grey King,” which won a Newbury Award. An amnesiac Will is sent to Wales to recover from a severe illness, where he meets the “raven boy” – an albino boy named Bran – and a dog with “eyes that see the wind.” Will must lead Bran into a closer connection with the Old Ones, and uncover a hidden treasure for the Old Ones. But when an accident befalls the dog, Bran is angry with the Old Ones – until the truth of his past comes to light.

Finally, the battle between good and evil climaxes with “Silver On The Tree,” in which Will receives visions and messages from Merriman, telling him that the final clash between the Dark and the Light is nigh. But while the Old Ones are almost ready, they don’t have the power of the Lady. For the sake of the world, he must join forces with the Drew children and Bran, and make their final stand against their mortal enemies.

Susan Cooper’s writing in “The Dark Is Rising Sequence” is the kind that comes around once in a generation – it’s lyrical, subtle, elegant and nuanced, able to switch effortlessly between family squabbles and hauntingly eerie glimpses of a whole other world. She’s at her weakest in “Over Sea, Under Stone,” but even then the book isn’t actually bad – just not as brilliant as the other books. It’s an enjoyable treasure-hunt/fantasy adventure.

She also weaves in a lot of Celtic mythology – primarily Welsh, such as the legend of the Grey King – and Arthurian legend, which add a depth and richness to the story beyond a simple good versus evil conflict. It really gives the story the feeling that it is the natural capstone to countless millennia of magical war, between the starkly evil Dark and the powerful but still very human Old Ones, who are able to make errors and feel sorrow despite their age.

The Drew children initially feel like E. Nesbit characters who somehow stumbled into a late twentieth-century book, but they grow more layered and complicated as the series winds on. Will Stanton is a seamless blend of a clever young boy and a timeless immortal that is both wise and ancient in mind. Overseeing them all is Merriman, an all-seeing guardian who can be alternately dignified and forbidding, or kind and grandfatherly.

With its majestic prose and entrancing, otherworldly characters, the “Dark is Rising Sequence” is a remarkable piece of work, and one that deserves many re-readings. Absolutely captivating, and deserving of its classic status.

Review: Solo Leveling Volume 1 (novel)

In the world of “Solo Leveling,” inter-dimensional gates regularly open up to “dungeons” crawling with strange and dangerous creatures. The only ones who can kill the creatures are hunters, who have awakened powers that let them take down the big bosses.

And out of all those hunters… Jinwoo is the weakest.

Needless to say, there’s plenty of room for improvement for the protagonist of Chugong’s “Solo Leveling” – and even in the brief space of the first volume, he makes quite a bit of improvement. The story thus far is bloody, harrowing, but also somewhat wryly funny – especially when the System intervenes to make life more complicated for the hero.

As mentioned before, Jinwoo Sung is the weakest of the lowest-ranked hunters, able to tag along on only the least threatening missions – and even then, he gets badly hurt. But he has no choice, because he needs the money for his family. When the party he’s with finds a rare double dungeon, Jin-woo is determined to explore the vast, eerie stone chamber filled with statues – and ends up in a nightmare that leaves him alone and dying.

Which is when the System intervenes, healing his body and saving his life. While he recovers, the System gives Jinwoo daily quests (mostly exercise) and the opportunity to level up and acquire new items. Just like a video game. He’s achieving the impossible: becoming steadily stronger, with apparently no limits.

Unfortunately, he soon discovers that even his increased power won’t keep him safe from potential harm in a dog-eat-dog profession, especially when he and another young hunter, Jinho Yoo, sign up for a freelance job posting. The problem is, the guy who’s hiring them, Dongsuk Hwang, is not the genial figure he pretends to be, and the biggest danger may be the other hunters rather than anything inside the dungeon.

The world of “Solo Leveling” is a pretty standard urban fantasy setting. It’s the modern world as we know it, except some people have magical powers and inter-dimensional gates allow them to hunt goblins, giant spiders and snakes, statue-gods, and so on. The most interesting aspect of it is the System that effectively turns Jinwoo into the protagonist of his own personal video game, with all the problems and benefits of that status.

The writing is pretty standard for a light-novel/webnovel’s style, spare and lean with lots of onomatopeia. It feels like Chugong is still building up the plot threads in this volume, since the majority of the story is just devoted to Jinwoo ending up in a nightmarish and life-threatening situation, and then spending a lot of time grinding (which is a bit tedious) and building up his strength. But Chugong has some talent at depicting the raw, wild, desperate interiors of the dungeons, and the monsters in them.

Jinwoo is kind of a mixed hero – at the story’s beginning, he’s courageous, unselfish and quick-witted, but still petrified of dying and acutely aware of his almost comical weakness. However, he becomes a lot colder and less likable as the first volume winds on, after he comes to the conclusion that all people are cowardly backstabbers. Hopefully the presence of Jinho – a golden retriever of a rich boy who constantly addresses him as “boss” – will mellow him out in subsequent volumes.

“Solo Leveling Volume 1” has some growing pains, but it’s an entertaining foray into a series with plenty of promise, solid writing, and a hero who wobbles on the edge of antihero. At the very least, it inspires me to check out volume two.