Status
Available
Call number
Series
Publication
Viking (2009), Edition: 1, 416 pages
Description
As a senior in high school Quentin Coldwater became preoccupied with a series of fantasy novels he read as a child, set in a magical land called Fillory. After graduating from college and being admitted into a highly exclusive, secret society of magic in upstate New York, he makes a stunning discovery: Fillory is real. But the land of Quentin's fantasies turns out to be much darker and more dangerous than he could have imagined for his childhood dream becomes a nightmare with a shocking truth at its heart.
Media reviews
”Magikerna” marknadsförs som ”Harry Potter för vuxna”, men i själva verket är det en ovanligt vacker sorgesång över hur det är att lämna barndomen. Det var faktiskt bättre förr, när man kunde uppslukas helt av leken.
This isn't just an exercise in exploring what we love about fantasy and the lies we tell ourselves about it -- it's a shit-kicking, gripping, tightly plotted novel that makes you want to take the afternoon off work to finish it.
It’s the original magic — storytelling — that occasionally trips Grossman up. Though the plot turns new tricks by the chapter, the characters have a fixed, “Not Another Teen Movie” quality. There’s the punk, the aesthete, the party girl, the fat slacker, the soon-to-be-hot nerd, the
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shy, angry, yet inexplicably irresistible narrator. Believable characters form the foundation for flights of fantasy. Before Grossman can make us care about, say, the multiverse, we need to intuit more about Quentin’s interior universe. Show Less
Somewhat familiar, albeit entertaining... Grossman's writing is intelligent, but don't give this one to the kids—it's a dark tale that suggests our childhood fantasies are no fun after all.
Grossman has written both an adult coming-of-age tale—rife with vivid scenes of sex, drugs, and heartbreak—and a whimsical yarn about forest creatures. The subjects aren’t mutually exclusive, and yet when stirred together so haphazardly, the effect is jarring. More damaging still is the plot,
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which takes about 150 pages to gain any steam, surges dramatically in the book’s final third, and then peters out with a couple chapters left to go. Show Less
Grossman, Time magazine's book critic and a frequent writer on technology, clearly has read his Potter and much more. While this story invariably echoes a whole body of romantic coming-of-age tales, Grossman's American variation is fresh and compelling. Like a jazz musician, he riffs on Potter and
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Narnia, but makes it his own.
Vladimir Nabokov once observed, "The truth is that great novels are great fairy tales." "The Magicians" is a great fairy tale, written for grown-ups but appealing to our most basic desires for stories to bring about some re-enchantment with the world, where monsters lurk but where a young man with a little magic may prevail. Show Less
User reviews
LibraryThing member SilverShip
It's frustrating to read bad reviews for a book you love, especially when those bad reviews are, in general, a result of a misconception.
Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion, of course, but in the case of The Magicians, it seems that it keeps getting picked up by readers who, if they were
I too have given this pitch before realizing I was doing a disseverance to my fellow readers and the book itself. After mulling it over, this is what I realized:
The Magicians is not Harry Potter meets Narnia meets Lord of the Rings – it's a critique of the genre.
The author, Lev Grossman, obviously has a lot of affection for this genre and for the titles mentioned above; however, he didn't write a book that was a mash-up of these stories. He wrote a book that turned the genre on its head – namely, by inserting reality into their common themes (not just once, but over and over) and seeing what came out. The result is The Magicians – a book that stands, in its own right, as a unique piece of fiction.
But things get sticky when you realize that reality is not that pretty; in real life, people aren't always noble, relatable, and steadfast. In real life, people can be complete losers – they can mope and flail, compete with and hurt one another, and fall to pieces when their terrified. And, in real life, magic would be terrifying quite often.
Not only does the reader come realize this truth about reality throughout the story, but so do the main characters. The flipside of all that ugly reality, however, is that sometimes you can fall in love with a person or a place despite all these faults—which is why, if you approach it with an open mind, The Magicians can be surprisingly powerful.
However, if you understandably want to escape FROM reality into a fantasy where the story is relatively predictable and the characters always try their best (or at least don't get on your nerves), this is not the book for you.
Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion, of course, but in the case of The Magicians, it seems that it keeps getting picked up by readers who, if they were
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getting a fair description of the book, wouldn't (and shouldn’t) go near it. Instead, they keep hearing, "It's like Narnia meets Harry Potter meets Lord of the Rings – for adults!" I too have given this pitch before realizing I was doing a disseverance to my fellow readers and the book itself. After mulling it over, this is what I realized:
The Magicians is not Harry Potter meets Narnia meets Lord of the Rings – it's a critique of the genre.
The author, Lev Grossman, obviously has a lot of affection for this genre and for the titles mentioned above; however, he didn't write a book that was a mash-up of these stories. He wrote a book that turned the genre on its head – namely, by inserting reality into their common themes (not just once, but over and over) and seeing what came out. The result is The Magicians – a book that stands, in its own right, as a unique piece of fiction.
But things get sticky when you realize that reality is not that pretty; in real life, people aren't always noble, relatable, and steadfast. In real life, people can be complete losers – they can mope and flail, compete with and hurt one another, and fall to pieces when their terrified. And, in real life, magic would be terrifying quite often.
Not only does the reader come realize this truth about reality throughout the story, but so do the main characters. The flipside of all that ugly reality, however, is that sometimes you can fall in love with a person or a place despite all these faults—which is why, if you approach it with an open mind, The Magicians can be surprisingly powerful.
However, if you understandably want to escape FROM reality into a fantasy where the story is relatively predictable and the characters always try their best (or at least don't get on your nerves), this is not the book for you.
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LibraryThing member timspalding
The idea of the The Magicians is good—Harry Potter and Narnia, but with jaded, entitled, oversexed asshole teens and early 20-somethings. It's Harry Potter with alcohol and sex! And for a while it holds out promise of being both a page-turner and having some depth. But as things wear on, it
I didn't care that the lead character is a jerk. But I minded that I cared less and less about the characters as the novel progressed. Literary novels are allowed to have depressed, unheroic and shallow characters. But they need to be perceptive about it, or at least really well-written. It was neither.
As for the ideas, the set-up was good, building on previous narratives but also adding something. I thought that, if things developed from there, this would end up a solid four-star book. But in the final third the originality ends. Subverting Narnia isn't enough of an invention, especially when the Narnia resonances give it some of its only real life. And don't tell me it's a "critique" of the genre—that's obvious as far as it goes, and it's neither good enough at it nor possessing enough life independent of the object of its criticism. (It's 2 Live Crew's "Pretty Woman" cover, which, intending to subject Orbison only shows how far above them he is.) If you want a far more interesting subversion of Narnia, check out Neil Gaiman's "The Problem of Susan."
Finally, reading this on the Kindle meant I evesdropped on the passages other readers highlighted. Without fail, they were the many "lesson" passages, where the author spells it all out for us, revealing this "subversion" to be at heart a 19th-century children's novel, with more fucking. "Relationship fights are like bad magic!" "Circumstances don't make you happy!" "Growing up is haawd!"
Lewis was never that trite.
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doesn't deliver on either score.I didn't care that the lead character is a jerk. But I minded that I cared less and less about the characters as the novel progressed. Literary novels are allowed to have depressed, unheroic and shallow characters. But they need to be perceptive about it, or at least really well-written. It was neither.
As for the ideas, the set-up was good, building on previous narratives but also adding something. I thought that, if things developed from there, this would end up a solid four-star book. But in the final third the originality ends. Subverting Narnia isn't enough of an invention, especially when the Narnia resonances give it some of its only real life. And don't tell me it's a "critique" of the genre—that's obvious as far as it goes, and it's neither good enough at it nor possessing enough life independent of the object of its criticism. (It's 2 Live Crew's "Pretty Woman" cover, which, intending to subject Orbison only shows how far above them he is.) If you want a far more interesting subversion of Narnia, check out Neil Gaiman's "The Problem of Susan."
Finally, reading this on the Kindle meant I evesdropped on the passages other readers highlighted. Without fail, they were the many "lesson" passages, where the author spells it all out for us, revealing this "subversion" to be at heart a 19th-century children's novel, with more fucking. "Relationship fights are like bad magic!" "Circumstances don't make you happy!" "Growing up is haawd!"
Lewis was never that trite.
Show Less
LibraryThing member BeckyJG
What if the Harry Potter series didn't start until the kids were ready to head off for college? What if the kid who went temporarily to the dark side in the Narnia series became truly and irrevocably evil, and stayed that way? What if the kids in both of these series swore like sailors, drank like
Why, then you'd have The Magicians , the latest from Time magazine book critic Lev Grossman. Quentin Coldwater, our hero, is pretty much a genius. He's in his final year at a high school in New York for intellectually superior kids, and as we meet him he's on his way to an interview with a representative from Princeton University. The man he's supposed to meet with is dead, so the interview never happens, but a mysterious and lovely paramedic gives him a package with his name on it. Faster than you can say abracadabra Quentin is down the rabbit hole, or, more specifically, through a portal in a wintry New York alley that leads to summery Brakesbill College for Magical Pedagogy.
Needless to say, his life changes in an instant. He studies magical theory and learns to harness and hone his own power. He is taken under the wing of urbane and sophisticated older students, who teach him about wine, fine dining, and the nicer points of ennui.
After college Q and his friends live an aimless life of partying and hangovers, occasionally wondering when it's all going to start for real...when it does, they get more than they bargained for. The Narnia-like fantasy world they all grew up reading about is real, and it's not a very happy place.
There is a quest. There are deaths, both mundane and magical. And in the end, Q must make a choice.
The Magicians is an intriguing new entry in the ever-growing canon of urban fantasy. Lev Grossman writes with a deft hand, and obviously knows and loves his source materials (well enough to mess with your mind, if you know them, too).
Recommended, a good summer read.
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fish, and fucked like bunnies?Why, then you'd have The Magicians , the latest from Time magazine book critic Lev Grossman. Quentin Coldwater, our hero, is pretty much a genius. He's in his final year at a high school in New York for intellectually superior kids, and as we meet him he's on his way to an interview with a representative from Princeton University. The man he's supposed to meet with is dead, so the interview never happens, but a mysterious and lovely paramedic gives him a package with his name on it. Faster than you can say abracadabra Quentin is down the rabbit hole, or, more specifically, through a portal in a wintry New York alley that leads to summery Brakesbill College for Magical Pedagogy.
Needless to say, his life changes in an instant. He studies magical theory and learns to harness and hone his own power. He is taken under the wing of urbane and sophisticated older students, who teach him about wine, fine dining, and the nicer points of ennui.
After college Q and his friends live an aimless life of partying and hangovers, occasionally wondering when it's all going to start for real...when it does, they get more than they bargained for. The Narnia-like fantasy world they all grew up reading about is real, and it's not a very happy place.
There is a quest. There are deaths, both mundane and magical. And in the end, Q must make a choice.
The Magicians is an intriguing new entry in the ever-growing canon of urban fantasy. Lev Grossman writes with a deft hand, and obviously knows and loves his source materials (well enough to mess with your mind, if you know them, too).
Recommended, a good summer read.
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LibraryThing member edgeworth
Criticism of the Harry Potter series comes in all shapes and sizes. but the one that I felt I most agreed with was a piece by Maria Bustillos I read in The Awl a while back, which argued that:
…the general awesomeness and favoriteness of Harry Potter and his friends is mostly arbitrary, the result
..It is a horrible thing to be teaching children, that you have to be “chosen”; that the highest places in this world are gained by celestial fiat, rather than by working out how to get there yourself and then busting tail until you succeed.
A.S. Byatt, in The New York Times, said:
Auden and Tolkien wrote about the skills of inventing ”secondary worlds.” Ms. Rowling’s world is a secondary secondary world, made up of intelligently patchworked derivative motifs from all sorts of children’s literature — from the jolly hockey-sticks school story to Roald Dahl, from ”Star Wars” to Diana Wynne Jones and Susan Cooper. Toni Morrison pointed out that clichés endure because they represent truths. Derivative narrative clichés work with children because they are comfortingly recognizable and immediately available to the child’s own power of fantasizing…
…Some of Ms. Rowling’s adult readers are simply reverting to the child they were when they read the Billy Bunter books, or invested Enid Blyton’s pasteboard kids with their own childish desires and hopes.
For the record, I enjoyed the Harry Potter books quite a bit, though I think they’re overrated, precisely for the reasons Bustillos and Byatt point out. The word I would use is “infantile;” despite trimmings of danger and excitement and adventure, they are ultimately about childhood fantasies and daydreams, about how great it would be to go “study” at Hogwarts. The universally-reviled saccharine epilogue of The Deathly Hallows is proof positive of this; with the threat vanquished, Harry Potter’s life becomes a sort of fuzzy, perfect daydream.
I mention all this because Lev Grossman’s brilliant novel The Magicians is often described by people as “Harry Potter for adults,” which is like describing His Dark Materials as “Narnia for adults” – I get where they’re coming from, but they’ve completely missed the point. The Magicians does more than simply draw on the inspiration of Narnia and Hogwarts and throw in some sex and violence; it’s a deconstruction and subversion of the themes at the very heart of those books. And it does so without – for lack of a better word – “blaming” them. (Indeed, he named Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix one of the ten best novels of the last decade.) Grossman knows there is nothing wrong with a childhood fantasy; The Magicians is simply a book about what happens when a child painfully outgrows those fantasies.
The Magicians centres on Quentin Coldwater, an intelligent and bookish Brooklyn teenager (and avid reader of the fictional Fillory series, a stand-in for The Chronicles of Narnia) who feels out of place and dissastisfied with his life. He discovers his potential for magic when an interview for Harvard turns into an entry exam for a secret magician’s college called Brakebills. The first indication this is something different from a Harry Potter knock-off – beyond Grossman’s more mature writing style – is the quick pace of the book; Quentin’s entire five years at Brakebills is covered in the first half of the novel, but The Magicians is perfectly paced, and this never feels inappropriate even for a reader subconsciously expecting a Rowling template.
Fantasy, by its very definition, is a genre about fantasising – about imagining, exploring and enjoying a created world for sheer escapism. Harry Potter and Narnia embrace their magical worlds whole-heartedly, danger and all, in the vein of a child’s flight of fancy. These books never question the rightness and the “reality” of their worlds; the humdrum human world becomes a distant memory. The Magicians much more honestly explores the implications of such a discovery, of leaving the world behind for something you assume will be better, and of becoming an agent of intense magical power. There is an absolutely excellent scene, about a year into Quentin’s time at Brakebills and one fifth of the way through the book, which tosses his naive fantasy out the window in one of the creepiest and most gripping passages of fiction I’ve read in some time (even before the chapter’s stunningly disturbing final sentence). You’ll certainly never look at The Son of Man the same way again.
This was the kind of disaster that Quentin thought he’d left behind the day he walked into that garden in Brooklyn. Things like this didn’t happen in Fillory: there was conflict, and even violence, but it was always heroic and ennobling, and anybody really good and important who bought it along the way came back to life at the end of the book. Now there was a rip in the corner of his perfect world, and fear and sadness were pouring in like filthy, freezing water through a busted dam. Brakebills felt less like a secret garden and more like a fortified encampment.
Much later in the novel, and in his life, he experiences violence up close for the first time:
As a teenager in Brooklyn Quentin had often imagined himself engaging in martial heroics, but after this he knew, as a cold and immutable fact, that he would do anything necessary, sacrificing whatever or whomever he had to, to avoid risking exposure to physical violence.
But The Magicians isn’t just an arty, literary genre deconstruction. Grossman is a talented creative writer, someone who was clearly drawn to fantasy in the first place in order to create the fantastic – from a fountain that shows the reflections of another fountain in another world, to an abandoned city with locked doors where one can only barely see through darkened glass at the mysterious contents, to sleeping aquatic dragons (“the largest and oldest known dragon was a colossal white who lived coiled up inside a huge freshwater aquifer under the Antarctic ice cap, and who had never once in recorded history spoken to anyone, not even its own kind.”) This is partly why it’s such a beautiful accomplishment: it deconstructs the fantasy genre while still relishing in it, and showing what it’s capable of. Despite (or perhaps because of) being a novel about how fictional worlds would not be the wonderful dream we imagine them to be, The Magicians is always fun and enjoyable to read. (Quentin is, by definition, a depressed character, but has a cynical sense of humour that prevents him from ever being unlikeable).
There is a mis-step in the ending, in just the last three pages. Grossman ends the novel on a positive note, which would have been OK if it hadn’t been quite so unexpected and at odds with the hundred or so pages prior to it (similar, in fact, to the way John Wyndham usually ended his novels). But there is a sequel, The Magician King (in which this ending would have been better inserted at the beginning), and I’m sure it will deliver.
The Magicians is a really wonderful book: at once subversive and creative, funny and sad, enjoyable and moving. It’s a novel that realistically explores the wish fulfillment stories of Harry Potter and Narnia and countless other children’s books, and instead examines what it means to have your expectations disappointed, and your concept of who you are tarnished and broken – a world where, magical or not, you’re just another unimportant fuck-up in an uncaring universe. Dazzling, magical, perceptive and masterful, The Magicians is one of the best and most important fantasy novels of the last decade.
…the general awesomeness and favoriteness of Harry Potter and his friends is mostly arbitrary, the result
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of the chosenness itself, rather than of effort or application. Harry Potter is just naturally fantastic at flying around on a broom and conjuring illuminated stags up out of his soul and things, Hermione Granger is just naturally the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen, and so on…..It is a horrible thing to be teaching children, that you have to be “chosen”; that the highest places in this world are gained by celestial fiat, rather than by working out how to get there yourself and then busting tail until you succeed.
A.S. Byatt, in The New York Times, said:
Auden and Tolkien wrote about the skills of inventing ”secondary worlds.” Ms. Rowling’s world is a secondary secondary world, made up of intelligently patchworked derivative motifs from all sorts of children’s literature — from the jolly hockey-sticks school story to Roald Dahl, from ”Star Wars” to Diana Wynne Jones and Susan Cooper. Toni Morrison pointed out that clichés endure because they represent truths. Derivative narrative clichés work with children because they are comfortingly recognizable and immediately available to the child’s own power of fantasizing…
…Some of Ms. Rowling’s adult readers are simply reverting to the child they were when they read the Billy Bunter books, or invested Enid Blyton’s pasteboard kids with their own childish desires and hopes.
For the record, I enjoyed the Harry Potter books quite a bit, though I think they’re overrated, precisely for the reasons Bustillos and Byatt point out. The word I would use is “infantile;” despite trimmings of danger and excitement and adventure, they are ultimately about childhood fantasies and daydreams, about how great it would be to go “study” at Hogwarts. The universally-reviled saccharine epilogue of The Deathly Hallows is proof positive of this; with the threat vanquished, Harry Potter’s life becomes a sort of fuzzy, perfect daydream.
I mention all this because Lev Grossman’s brilliant novel The Magicians is often described by people as “Harry Potter for adults,” which is like describing His Dark Materials as “Narnia for adults” – I get where they’re coming from, but they’ve completely missed the point. The Magicians does more than simply draw on the inspiration of Narnia and Hogwarts and throw in some sex and violence; it’s a deconstruction and subversion of the themes at the very heart of those books. And it does so without – for lack of a better word – “blaming” them. (Indeed, he named Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix one of the ten best novels of the last decade.) Grossman knows there is nothing wrong with a childhood fantasy; The Magicians is simply a book about what happens when a child painfully outgrows those fantasies.
The Magicians centres on Quentin Coldwater, an intelligent and bookish Brooklyn teenager (and avid reader of the fictional Fillory series, a stand-in for The Chronicles of Narnia) who feels out of place and dissastisfied with his life. He discovers his potential for magic when an interview for Harvard turns into an entry exam for a secret magician’s college called Brakebills. The first indication this is something different from a Harry Potter knock-off – beyond Grossman’s more mature writing style – is the quick pace of the book; Quentin’s entire five years at Brakebills is covered in the first half of the novel, but The Magicians is perfectly paced, and this never feels inappropriate even for a reader subconsciously expecting a Rowling template.
Fantasy, by its very definition, is a genre about fantasising – about imagining, exploring and enjoying a created world for sheer escapism. Harry Potter and Narnia embrace their magical worlds whole-heartedly, danger and all, in the vein of a child’s flight of fancy. These books never question the rightness and the “reality” of their worlds; the humdrum human world becomes a distant memory. The Magicians much more honestly explores the implications of such a discovery, of leaving the world behind for something you assume will be better, and of becoming an agent of intense magical power. There is an absolutely excellent scene, about a year into Quentin’s time at Brakebills and one fifth of the way through the book, which tosses his naive fantasy out the window in one of the creepiest and most gripping passages of fiction I’ve read in some time (even before the chapter’s stunningly disturbing final sentence). You’ll certainly never look at The Son of Man the same way again.
This was the kind of disaster that Quentin thought he’d left behind the day he walked into that garden in Brooklyn. Things like this didn’t happen in Fillory: there was conflict, and even violence, but it was always heroic and ennobling, and anybody really good and important who bought it along the way came back to life at the end of the book. Now there was a rip in the corner of his perfect world, and fear and sadness were pouring in like filthy, freezing water through a busted dam. Brakebills felt less like a secret garden and more like a fortified encampment.
Much later in the novel, and in his life, he experiences violence up close for the first time:
As a teenager in Brooklyn Quentin had often imagined himself engaging in martial heroics, but after this he knew, as a cold and immutable fact, that he would do anything necessary, sacrificing whatever or whomever he had to, to avoid risking exposure to physical violence.
But The Magicians isn’t just an arty, literary genre deconstruction. Grossman is a talented creative writer, someone who was clearly drawn to fantasy in the first place in order to create the fantastic – from a fountain that shows the reflections of another fountain in another world, to an abandoned city with locked doors where one can only barely see through darkened glass at the mysterious contents, to sleeping aquatic dragons (“the largest and oldest known dragon was a colossal white who lived coiled up inside a huge freshwater aquifer under the Antarctic ice cap, and who had never once in recorded history spoken to anyone, not even its own kind.”) This is partly why it’s such a beautiful accomplishment: it deconstructs the fantasy genre while still relishing in it, and showing what it’s capable of. Despite (or perhaps because of) being a novel about how fictional worlds would not be the wonderful dream we imagine them to be, The Magicians is always fun and enjoyable to read. (Quentin is, by definition, a depressed character, but has a cynical sense of humour that prevents him from ever being unlikeable).
There is a mis-step in the ending, in just the last three pages. Grossman ends the novel on a positive note, which would have been OK if it hadn’t been quite so unexpected and at odds with the hundred or so pages prior to it (similar, in fact, to the way John Wyndham usually ended his novels). But there is a sequel, The Magician King (in which this ending would have been better inserted at the beginning), and I’m sure it will deliver.
The Magicians is a really wonderful book: at once subversive and creative, funny and sad, enjoyable and moving. It’s a novel that realistically explores the wish fulfillment stories of Harry Potter and Narnia and countless other children’s books, and instead examines what it means to have your expectations disappointed, and your concept of who you are tarnished and broken – a world where, magical or not, you’re just another unimportant fuck-up in an uncaring universe. Dazzling, magical, perceptive and masterful, The Magicians is one of the best and most important fantasy novels of the last decade.
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LibraryThing member azoni
I enjoyed this book. I was impressed by this book. This book drew me in and kept me reading all the way through. It's basically about a depressed genius teenage boy who can't let go of his childhood dream to escape into a magical land. And then his dream comes true - he gets invited to an elite
I'd say I enjoyed this book mostly because of how real it all seemed. The characters reacted in ways that seemed natural. The book deals with the issue of what you do once you actually graduate from this magical college, because at that point normal life seems pretty pointless. The emotions are all fully realized, and very... emotional. The characters all had unique personalities, except maybe Alice, who I didn't really understand. The all changed and grew and learned lessons and came away from the whole thing and strong young adults, mentally and physically scarred, some more than others, with a whole new understanding of life. It really impressed me how well the author conveyed this. Every character was turned inside-out and you really got to know them. I would have given it a five-star rating, because this book totally blew my mind away, but there are a few things that bother me about it, despite the fact that those too seem very real, things that would happen in real life. For example, the kids swear a LOT and drink copious amounts of alcohol. And there was a lot of sex, but no real mention of protection, magical or otherwise, besides one mention of condom wrappers on the floor, and somehow nobody gets pregnant.
The other thing that sort of took away from the book was the fact that this book sort of drew on two other books, Harry Potter (magical college) and Narnia. I actually didn't mind that elements were drawn from Harry Potter, because the book finished the "magical college" thing in a way Harry Potter did not, and issues that were unanswered questions in Harry Potter were fully realized concepts in The Magicians. What bothered me was the similarities Fillory had to Narnia, without anyone mentioning Narnia, despite the fact that many other books were mentioned by the characters. For example, Fillory, like Narnia, has four thrones which must be occupied by four Earthlings, humans. There are talking animals and a white wishing-stag in Fillory, again like Narnia. The original occupants of the thrones, the Chatwins, were siblings, and entered Fillory first by going through the back of a grandfather clock, just like the Pevinses went through the Wardrobe. I'm not entirely sure this bothered me, but it did, just a little.
Anyway, this was a VERY GOOD BOOK and I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone. ****!
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magical college, he passes all the admissions tests, and skips a year. It's incredibly, horribly difficult work to cause magic. Wands are rarely used, and then usually as a focus, which in the process gets destroyed. Most of it is brutal, precise finger-movements, and magic makes one tired. As Quentin starts to accept the reality, he realizes he's still waiting for something better. Magic was real, but it wasn't good enough. After he graduates, he and his old school friends find a way to reach parallel universes. It turns out his childhood daydream of going to Fillory, the magical land in a series of books, is possible - Fillory actually exists. The children who told the author about it actually went there. At first it's a game. Then the eight of them get sucked into Fillory's problems. I'm not going to tell you how it ends, because I wouldn't be able to. It's pretty complicated, and also very satisfying, in a sort of real life/I want more book sort of way. I'd say I enjoyed this book mostly because of how real it all seemed. The characters reacted in ways that seemed natural. The book deals with the issue of what you do once you actually graduate from this magical college, because at that point normal life seems pretty pointless. The emotions are all fully realized, and very... emotional. The characters all had unique personalities, except maybe Alice, who I didn't really understand. The all changed and grew and learned lessons and came away from the whole thing and strong young adults, mentally and physically scarred, some more than others, with a whole new understanding of life. It really impressed me how well the author conveyed this. Every character was turned inside-out and you really got to know them. I would have given it a five-star rating, because this book totally blew my mind away, but there are a few things that bother me about it, despite the fact that those too seem very real, things that would happen in real life. For example, the kids swear a LOT and drink copious amounts of alcohol. And there was a lot of sex, but no real mention of protection, magical or otherwise, besides one mention of condom wrappers on the floor, and somehow nobody gets pregnant.
The other thing that sort of took away from the book was the fact that this book sort of drew on two other books, Harry Potter (magical college) and Narnia. I actually didn't mind that elements were drawn from Harry Potter, because the book finished the "magical college" thing in a way Harry Potter did not, and issues that were unanswered questions in Harry Potter were fully realized concepts in The Magicians. What bothered me was the similarities Fillory had to Narnia, without anyone mentioning Narnia, despite the fact that many other books were mentioned by the characters. For example, Fillory, like Narnia, has four thrones which must be occupied by four Earthlings, humans. There are talking animals and a white wishing-stag in Fillory, again like Narnia. The original occupants of the thrones, the Chatwins, were siblings, and entered Fillory first by going through the back of a grandfather clock, just like the Pevinses went through the Wardrobe. I'm not entirely sure this bothered me, but it did, just a little.
Anyway, this was a VERY GOOD BOOK and I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone. ****!
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LibraryThing member ben_a
Novels with unlikable protagonists always frost me a bit. Here we have world-weary teens with no reason to be world-weary beyond their own shallowness. There's a great line of David Foster Wallace's of an Updike protagonist that "it never once occurs to him that the reason he's so unhappy is that
Grossman's creativity keeps one reading. The geese, the antarctic training, the school ... all were nicely turned. The characters, less so. The physical kids just were so improbable, pointless, and drunk, holding on to their poses a touch too long even in the face of real danger and strangeness. And who let Sebastian Flyte into this novel?
A thought for another time: why must Quentin's parents (and Alice's) be so inhuman? What to make of the puzzling lack of. for lack of a better term, authority figures, in The Magicians. Is it just a way of highlighting the crisis of meaning that is at the center of the novel?
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he's an asshole." Quentin Coldwater never makes that mistake. He is, periodically, and in the end, entirely, aware that he's an asshole. But that doesn't make it any more fun to read about his aimlessness, his cowardice, his hedonism, his irritating hedonist friends, or his squalid betrayals and jealousies. I suppose one can't hold this against Grossman, but it was wearing. Grossman's creativity keeps one reading. The geese, the antarctic training, the school ... all were nicely turned. The characters, less so. The physical kids just were so improbable, pointless, and drunk, holding on to their poses a touch too long even in the face of real danger and strangeness. And who let Sebastian Flyte into this novel?
A thought for another time: why must Quentin's parents (and Alice's) be so inhuman? What to make of the puzzling lack of. for lack of a better term, authority figures, in The Magicians. Is it just a way of highlighting the crisis of meaning that is at the center of the novel?
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LibraryThing member bragan
High school student Quentin Coldwater is brilliant, but miserable. He dreams of somehow being able to run away to the magical land of Fillory -- the setting of a series of children's books that are pretty clearly modeled on the Chronicles of Narnia -- or to somewhere equally enchanted. When he
I have incredibly mixed feelings about this book. On one hand, it's well-written, the characters are believable, the premise is cool, and there are some great imaginative touches. And yet, it somehow fails to be entirely satisfying. The concept and the tone inevitably led me to expect some kind of clever deconstruction or subversive commentary on traditional fantasy stories, but while there are elements of that, especially towards the end, it never quite comes together into anything that feels truly coherent and insightful. The main theme seems simply to be that constitutionally unhappy people will be unhappy no matter what their circumstances, and nothing can magically change that, not even literal magic. The first half of the novel feels a lot like the author looked at Harry Potter and thought, hey, what if you did this same sort of thing, but took out all the children's adventure stuff, the world-threatening evil wizardry, the whimsy, and the orphan-turned-hero character arc, and instead just focused on the magical eduction. I actually think that's a perfectly good idea; I always found the general silliness and non-existent logic of magic in Harry Potter slightly frustrating, at least once the story started getting more serious, and wished for some better world-building on the subject. So in principle, I'm perfectly happy to read about how one studies to be a wizard. But eventually, I started longing for some sort of plot. One does eventually show up, and it's fairly interesting when it does, but it takes a lot longer than it really should.
All that having been said, I did find it an interesting and often enjoyable read. I'll probably pick up the sequel eventually, out of curiosity, if nothing else.
Rating: This one is extremely difficult to rate, but I think I'm going to call it 3.5/5, after applying a penalty for not fully living up to its potential. Or perhaps just for not being quite the book I wanted it to be. I'm honestly not sure which.
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follows a windblown scrap of paper into a vacant lot and ends up on the campus of Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy, it seems that all his fondest wishes have come true. But it turns out that life in the world of magic, while it has its appeal, isn't fundamentally any better than life in the mundane world.I have incredibly mixed feelings about this book. On one hand, it's well-written, the characters are believable, the premise is cool, and there are some great imaginative touches. And yet, it somehow fails to be entirely satisfying. The concept and the tone inevitably led me to expect some kind of clever deconstruction or subversive commentary on traditional fantasy stories, but while there are elements of that, especially towards the end, it never quite comes together into anything that feels truly coherent and insightful. The main theme seems simply to be that constitutionally unhappy people will be unhappy no matter what their circumstances, and nothing can magically change that, not even literal magic. The first half of the novel feels a lot like the author looked at Harry Potter and thought, hey, what if you did this same sort of thing, but took out all the children's adventure stuff, the world-threatening evil wizardry, the whimsy, and the orphan-turned-hero character arc, and instead just focused on the magical eduction. I actually think that's a perfectly good idea; I always found the general silliness and non-existent logic of magic in Harry Potter slightly frustrating, at least once the story started getting more serious, and wished for some better world-building on the subject. So in principle, I'm perfectly happy to read about how one studies to be a wizard. But eventually, I started longing for some sort of plot. One does eventually show up, and it's fairly interesting when it does, but it takes a lot longer than it really should.
All that having been said, I did find it an interesting and often enjoyable read. I'll probably pick up the sequel eventually, out of curiosity, if nothing else.
Rating: This one is extremely difficult to rate, but I think I'm going to call it 3.5/5, after applying a penalty for not fully living up to its potential. Or perhaps just for not being quite the book I wanted it to be. I'm honestly not sure which.
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LibraryThing member sonyagreen
Did you secretly wish you could move to Narnia, Hogwarts, Arthurian England or Middle Earth? This book is written for all those fankids who still haven't gotten over the fact that they're Muggles.
The short version of a plot summary is, "It's like Harry Potter went to college, started saying 'fuck'
We follow Quentin, who embodies how slightly dorky but really smart kids navigate high school, as he finds out about college for magicians. There's a lot of self discovery that happens at that age - for anyone - and Grossman does a good job of portraying the reasons why you feel like you despise your parents, or the angst over trying to navigate complicated social situations.
I ripped through it - for me, it falls into the category of books that can be devoured.
Through the whole novel, the author was acknowledging this desire to tuck yourself into a fantasy world, and how even when you find out said fantasy world is real, you can't tuck yourself safely into the warm arms of talking beavers, or hold a magic talisman that keeps you safe and solves the problem.
So my criticism is that in the last two pages of the novel, the poignancy of what I felt I'd learned was diminished.
I do think something needed to happen - we needed to know that Quentin's journey into and out of magic had a lasting impact on him, and the story needed a finishing move.
More than anything, the last two pages felt like a giant portal to the sequel.
So, I wasn't a fan of the last two pages. Big deal. Everything else, thought, I really enjoyed. I recommend it highly.
The short version of a plot summary is, "It's like Harry Potter went to college, started saying 'fuck'
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and drinking a lot, and realized that you have to work really effing hard to master something.We follow Quentin, who embodies how slightly dorky but really smart kids navigate high school, as he finds out about college for magicians. There's a lot of self discovery that happens at that age - for anyone - and Grossman does a good job of portraying the reasons why you feel like you despise your parents, or the angst over trying to navigate complicated social situations.
I ripped through it - for me, it falls into the category of books that can be devoured.
Through the whole novel, the author was acknowledging this desire to tuck yourself into a fantasy world, and how even when you find out said fantasy world is real, you can't tuck yourself safely into the warm arms of talking beavers, or hold a magic talisman that keeps you safe and solves the problem.
So my criticism is that in the last two pages of the novel, the poignancy of what I felt I'd learned was diminished.
I do think something needed to happen - we needed to know that Quentin's journey into and out of magic had a lasting impact on him, and the story needed a finishing move.
More than anything, the last two pages felt like a giant portal to the sequel.
So, I wasn't a fan of the last two pages. Big deal. Everything else, thought, I really enjoyed. I recommend it highly.
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LibraryThing member katylizg
This book is billed almost everywhere as "Harry Potter for grown-ups," and since I'm a huge Harry Potter nerd, I figured what the hell?
My first thought is that I can't decide if Grossman was writing an homage to the Narnia books or a send-up of them, but I don't think he managed either very well.
My second thought requires some explanation: I just saw the Master on Friday night (starring Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman) and I had the same, or at least a similar, feeling that I had reading this book, though for different reasons. Watching The Master I felt like the director and screenwriter thought, "These are interesting people. You (the audience) should want to spend time with them." Which is fine, as far as it goes. Goodness knows many people have made much money operating under that premise in creating reality television. However, it's not always enough. At least not for me. That was my problem with The Master.
My problem with The Magicians is that the author didn't bother to think even that far. I didn't find the characters to be interesting. Maybe they could be, but i found the main character to be such a whiny asshole that I couldn't care less about his opinions of the rest of them; therefore, couldn't manage to care much for them. As to why Quentin was such a whiny asshole, I understand the chilling realization that "this is it." The moment when one finally understands that adulthood is: (a) not that different from childhood, or at least adolescence, and (b) in many, many ways worse. But why do I want to spend 300 pages with a person who comes to the same realization and then promptly forgets it so he can continue behaving like an adolescent and come to the same realization over and over again (and then forget and then...well, you get the point)?
The answer might be: because the story is good. I've hated many characters and still loved their stories. But it isn't. It almost feels irrelevant. Scenes that should be exciting aren't. I wasn't shocked when the characters behavior was shocking, nor was I thrilled when their behavior was heroic. It felt like a slog for 361 pages.
I wanted to like this book better than I did. Maybe I would have if I understood the physicality of it. I'm a sucker for process stories, so if the world was developed (a more appropriate word might be explained) I would have enjoyed the rest of it. I didn't feel like Grossman understood why magic was what it was in his stories, why anything was anything, other than because it was necessary for the plot to move along. Nothing felt real (not the characters, not the world and not the stakes) and I think that starts with none of it being real to Mr. Grossman. Which is sad. And which made me sad while reading it.
My first thought is that I can't decide if Grossman was writing an homage to the Narnia books or a send-up of them, but I don't think he managed either very well.
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My second thought requires some explanation: I just saw the Master on Friday night (starring Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman) and I had the same, or at least a similar, feeling that I had reading this book, though for different reasons. Watching The Master I felt like the director and screenwriter thought, "These are interesting people. You (the audience) should want to spend time with them." Which is fine, as far as it goes. Goodness knows many people have made much money operating under that premise in creating reality television. However, it's not always enough. At least not for me. That was my problem with The Master.
My problem with The Magicians is that the author didn't bother to think even that far. I didn't find the characters to be interesting. Maybe they could be, but i found the main character to be such a whiny asshole that I couldn't care less about his opinions of the rest of them; therefore, couldn't manage to care much for them. As to why Quentin was such a whiny asshole, I understand the chilling realization that "this is it." The moment when one finally understands that adulthood is: (a) not that different from childhood, or at least adolescence, and (b) in many, many ways worse. But why do I want to spend 300 pages with a person who comes to the same realization and then promptly forgets it so he can continue behaving like an adolescent and come to the same realization over and over again (and then forget and then...well, you get the point)?
The answer might be: because the story is good. I've hated many characters and still loved their stories. But it isn't. It almost feels irrelevant. Scenes that should be exciting aren't. I wasn't shocked when the characters behavior was shocking, nor was I thrilled when their behavior was heroic. It felt like a slog for 361 pages.
I wanted to like this book better than I did. Maybe I would have if I understood the physicality of it. I'm a sucker for process stories, so if the world was developed (a more appropriate word might be explained) I would have enjoyed the rest of it. I didn't feel like Grossman understood why magic was what it was in his stories, why anything was anything, other than because it was necessary for the plot to move along. Nothing felt real (not the characters, not the world and not the stakes) and I think that starts with none of it being real to Mr. Grossman. Which is sad. And which made me sad while reading it.
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LibraryThing member lauriebrown54
A young man, dissatisfied with his life, is invited to attend a hidden magical school. Having been obsessed with books about a magical world (Filory, which is entered through a grandfather clock and has talking animals) since he was a child, he jumps at the chance. This, he feels, will change his
Well, not really.
This is not a story in the same vein as Harry Potter or Narnia, no matter how many the references and similarities. This is more like Harry Potter via J.D. Salinger or Philip Roth. The characters are deeply flawed. Only one could be called heroic. Rather than placing the greater good as the most important thing as most fantasy teens do, they are wastrels with no ambition whatsoever. Magic doesn’t fix their lives or make them happy; it just means they don’t have to deal with the problems of earning a living. So instead of questing, they drink too much, take drugs, and idle. Magic school doesn’t make the protagonist happy.
Then a chance at a magical adventure arrives. Some magical buttons that can carry people between worlds- and they suspect that one of those worlds is Filory- are found. This, the protagonist thinks, will at last make me happy, to be in Filory. But magical adventures aren’t like they are in books- people don’t suddenly gain the ability to fight with swords like experts; fighting hurts; people bleed and die. Filory does not make our protagonist happy.
I’m not sure if the author was making fun of fantasy novels, or just trying to write a more realistic one. This is not a book where the reader makes a willing suspension of disbelief, because one wouldn’t really want to be in this particular fantasy world, where the magical teens remind one too much of the people one went to regular, mundane school with. It’s reasonably well written (although not great) but I can’t say I enjoyed the book. I don’t think it’s meant to be really enjoyable; it’s more of a morality tale. And it’s definitely not a fantasy for children.
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life for the better and he will be, at last, happy. Sounds enchanting, doesn’t it? Well, not really.
This is not a story in the same vein as Harry Potter or Narnia, no matter how many the references and similarities. This is more like Harry Potter via J.D. Salinger or Philip Roth. The characters are deeply flawed. Only one could be called heroic. Rather than placing the greater good as the most important thing as most fantasy teens do, they are wastrels with no ambition whatsoever. Magic doesn’t fix their lives or make them happy; it just means they don’t have to deal with the problems of earning a living. So instead of questing, they drink too much, take drugs, and idle. Magic school doesn’t make the protagonist happy.
Then a chance at a magical adventure arrives. Some magical buttons that can carry people between worlds- and they suspect that one of those worlds is Filory- are found. This, the protagonist thinks, will at last make me happy, to be in Filory. But magical adventures aren’t like they are in books- people don’t suddenly gain the ability to fight with swords like experts; fighting hurts; people bleed and die. Filory does not make our protagonist happy.
I’m not sure if the author was making fun of fantasy novels, or just trying to write a more realistic one. This is not a book where the reader makes a willing suspension of disbelief, because one wouldn’t really want to be in this particular fantasy world, where the magical teens remind one too much of the people one went to regular, mundane school with. It’s reasonably well written (although not great) but I can’t say I enjoyed the book. I don’t think it’s meant to be really enjoyable; it’s more of a morality tale. And it’s definitely not a fantasy for children.
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LibraryThing member stefferoo
Self-absorbed, annoying, moody, smug, dissatisfied, spoiled, fake, maudlin, insecure, aimless, whiny, stupid, pampered, emo, vain, egotistical, small-minded, excessive, inconsiderate, thankless, pretentious, snobby, entitled, mercurial, immature, depressed, hypocritical, mean-spirited, cynical,
No, The Magicians isn’t going to your big smiling ball of sunshine no matter how many Harry Potter comparisons you see slapped on it. Instead, you have a book featuring a much darker, grittier and almost satirical aura, a New Adult urban fantasy about letting the unhappiness of wanting something you can never have consume you. We follow disillusioned Quentin Coldwater, a high school student who never really grew out of his love for a series of novels he read as a kid about the adventures of five siblings in a magical land called Fillory. Compared to that, what can the real world offer him?
Imagine how he feels then, when he discovers that magic is real. And not only is it real, Quentin himself is a promising young magician, accepted into very secret and highly exclusive Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy in upstate New York. It should have changed everything. Quentin should have been ecstatic.
But he is not. But of course he’s not. Magic isn’t going to make Quentin happy. Neither is finding out that Fillory actually exists. It’s a sad moment when the realization hits. There’s really no cure for what Quentin’s suffering from, except one thing and one thing only: a few years of life experience and a whole lot of growing up. Well, that or maybe a swift and forceful kick in the seat of his pants.
Thing is though, you can write a miserably unlikeable character for the sake of writing a miserably unlikeable character. I don’t mind that, really. Not even if your character is an insufferably whiny little ingrate. You just have to give me a reason – any reason – to make me care about what happens to him. That’s not too much to ask, is it? My issue with this novel wasn’t so much with the mopey protagonist than it was with the directionless storytelling. In fact, I was quite excited for the first part of this book. I couldn’t get enough of the magical school idea the author’s jabs and funny references to Harry Potter and other humorous injections. That there was no sign of a main conflict didn’t bother me at this point either, as I was relishing the setting and enjoying myself too much.
Around the midway point was when the book started to lose me, coinciding with Quentin’s graduation and life after Brakebills. Until then I never really bothered asking where the story was going, and hadn’t felt the need to – but eventually there was a creeping sense that giving Quentin and his magician friends’ “real life” problems like relationship hang ups and dismal prospects for the future just wasn’t going cut it. Worse yet, there is absolutely no development in the characters (unless you count decline as growth – which I don’t) and that’s mind boggling especially when you consider how a person’s time at college should have been the most formative years. Like, dudes, I get that y’all are bored with life. But I’m bored with you too now. Sorry.
Admittedly, the final handful of chapters about the discovery and exploration of Fillory had their charm. Possibly enough to salvage my feelings for this book for a solid middling rating. And I suppose the conclusion, while incomplete and flinging the doors wide open for a new adventure, also manages to offer a sense of closure and satisfaction in its own unique way. The ending gives me hope for Quentin, and the promise of more Fillory makes me feel a lot more optimistic about the next book.
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clueless – just a small sample of the words I could use to describe the characters in this book. No, The Magicians isn’t going to your big smiling ball of sunshine no matter how many Harry Potter comparisons you see slapped on it. Instead, you have a book featuring a much darker, grittier and almost satirical aura, a New Adult urban fantasy about letting the unhappiness of wanting something you can never have consume you. We follow disillusioned Quentin Coldwater, a high school student who never really grew out of his love for a series of novels he read as a kid about the adventures of five siblings in a magical land called Fillory. Compared to that, what can the real world offer him?
Imagine how he feels then, when he discovers that magic is real. And not only is it real, Quentin himself is a promising young magician, accepted into very secret and highly exclusive Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy in upstate New York. It should have changed everything. Quentin should have been ecstatic.
But he is not. But of course he’s not. Magic isn’t going to make Quentin happy. Neither is finding out that Fillory actually exists. It’s a sad moment when the realization hits. There’s really no cure for what Quentin’s suffering from, except one thing and one thing only: a few years of life experience and a whole lot of growing up. Well, that or maybe a swift and forceful kick in the seat of his pants.
Thing is though, you can write a miserably unlikeable character for the sake of writing a miserably unlikeable character. I don’t mind that, really. Not even if your character is an insufferably whiny little ingrate. You just have to give me a reason – any reason – to make me care about what happens to him. That’s not too much to ask, is it? My issue with this novel wasn’t so much with the mopey protagonist than it was with the directionless storytelling. In fact, I was quite excited for the first part of this book. I couldn’t get enough of the magical school idea the author’s jabs and funny references to Harry Potter and other humorous injections. That there was no sign of a main conflict didn’t bother me at this point either, as I was relishing the setting and enjoying myself too much.
Around the midway point was when the book started to lose me, coinciding with Quentin’s graduation and life after Brakebills. Until then I never really bothered asking where the story was going, and hadn’t felt the need to – but eventually there was a creeping sense that giving Quentin and his magician friends’ “real life” problems like relationship hang ups and dismal prospects for the future just wasn’t going cut it. Worse yet, there is absolutely no development in the characters (unless you count decline as growth – which I don’t) and that’s mind boggling especially when you consider how a person’s time at college should have been the most formative years. Like, dudes, I get that y’all are bored with life. But I’m bored with you too now. Sorry.
Admittedly, the final handful of chapters about the discovery and exploration of Fillory had their charm. Possibly enough to salvage my feelings for this book for a solid middling rating. And I suppose the conclusion, while incomplete and flinging the doors wide open for a new adventure, also manages to offer a sense of closure and satisfaction in its own unique way. The ending gives me hope for Quentin, and the promise of more Fillory makes me feel a lot more optimistic about the next book.
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LibraryThing member ffortsa
Summary:
Quentin is a 17-year-old Brooklyn teenager, an outsider, ignored by his parents, awkward as only a 17-year-old in Brooklyn can be. He has sought refuge in magic and the magical fantasy tales of Fillory, and to his amazement, on the way to an interview for Princeton, he is invited to a
He is just as awkward and just as much an outsider at Brakebills as in Brooklyn, but so are many of the other students; he finds friends and a sense of the right place (for a while). Finishing his four-year course, he returns to the real world, but without purpose, he and his friends lead drunken and increasingly desperate lives. Growing up is harder than they thought it would be. And then, they get a chance for the adventure, and possible happiness, that has been eluding them.
Review:
CAUTION: SPOILERS
The first half of this book is an excellent coming-of-age story, with magic substituting for the more ordinary angst of the post-high school years. Quentin's emotions and experiences are marvelously drawn, so that the secrecy and magic of the plot are easily accommodated as stand-ins for the mundane. No fanciful Hogwarts owls, and when an evil demon does show up, it's more interesting but not sadder than that life-changing car crash in some Lifetime movie. The school is tender and tough, but cannot give direction to Quentin or his friends.
Then, it turns. Fresh from their school days and deep into their post-college anomie, these young magicians actually find a way to Fillory. Aha - a chance at adventure, a chance at the dreams of their childhood. The story turns into a bad, sexy imitation of the Narnia tales, complete with four empty crowns, talking animals and an all-out war. What a disappointment. Interspersed with the fanciful events are still some glimmers of real characters undergoing real growth, but for the most part, the characters grow backwards, and the finely nuanced storyline devolves into a Crayola-colored cartoon. What a pity.
Quentin is a 17-year-old Brooklyn teenager, an outsider, ignored by his parents, awkward as only a 17-year-old in Brooklyn can be. He has sought refuge in magic and the magical fantasy tales of Fillory, and to his amazement, on the way to an interview for Princeton, he is invited to a
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secret magician's school, Brakebilsl, and accepted into the enchanted, rigorous education in true magic.He is just as awkward and just as much an outsider at Brakebills as in Brooklyn, but so are many of the other students; he finds friends and a sense of the right place (for a while). Finishing his four-year course, he returns to the real world, but without purpose, he and his friends lead drunken and increasingly desperate lives. Growing up is harder than they thought it would be. And then, they get a chance for the adventure, and possible happiness, that has been eluding them.
Review:
CAUTION: SPOILERS
The first half of this book is an excellent coming-of-age story, with magic substituting for the more ordinary angst of the post-high school years. Quentin's emotions and experiences are marvelously drawn, so that the secrecy and magic of the plot are easily accommodated as stand-ins for the mundane. No fanciful Hogwarts owls, and when an evil demon does show up, it's more interesting but not sadder than that life-changing car crash in some Lifetime movie. The school is tender and tough, but cannot give direction to Quentin or his friends.
Then, it turns. Fresh from their school days and deep into their post-college anomie, these young magicians actually find a way to Fillory. Aha - a chance at adventure, a chance at the dreams of their childhood. The story turns into a bad, sexy imitation of the Narnia tales, complete with four empty crowns, talking animals and an all-out war. What a disappointment. Interspersed with the fanciful events are still some glimmers of real characters undergoing real growth, but for the most part, the characters grow backwards, and the finely nuanced storyline devolves into a Crayola-colored cartoon. What a pity.
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LibraryThing member delphica
I was slightly shocked I liked this, because most people I know didn't. And then I was thinking it was probably one of things where I happened to be especially in the mood for a The Secret History meets Harry Potter meets The Chronicles of Narnia meets Less Than Zero mash-up. But honestly, that
All the reviews mentioned the Harry Potter angle (kid gets invitation to magical college), but there was less said of Narnia, which surprised me because that seemed more important to the story. Let's see -- jaded kid goes to college, meets friends (also jaded), gets a girlfriend, graduates, messes around with magic to no good end. And the characters ARE annoying with how dissatisfied and oozing ennui they are for absolutely no reason (although, I guess by definition one never has a reason for that).
But, even with that, I could not resist the snappy dialogue that's much too witty and cutting to ever be realistic (plus everyone had the same voice), but it reminded me of being up too late with drama club friends and being overly sardonic and catty and drinking too much gin. Cripes, I right now realized what I liked about this book -- it made me nostalgic for being 20 and slightly stuck on myself. Yeah, so that's probably a bit indulgent. Josh I found to be especially hilarious, and even when at the end things were supposed to be all very sad, I was snorting like a crazy person over the vaguely Germanic centaurs.
Naggingly, it doesn't quite hold together plot-wise, either. I have a long list of questions I would like to ask Mr. Grossman about many of the choices he made (a minor point, but one that is bothering me -- why are there only four thrones, but five Chatwins?). I still liked it well enough that if I had a magic time machine watch, I would go into the future and get the sequel RIGHT THE FREAK NOW. And then call in sick to work tomorrow.
Grade: B+.
Recommended: Not to anyone who likes fantasy to include Magic and Wonder, but it would be great for people who like fantasy that includes Complaining and Snarkiness. It combines two of my favorite genres, College Stories and Clever People Behaving Badly.
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seems like an AWFULLY SPECIFIC mood to be in, so I have to own the fact that I liked it, plain and simple.All the reviews mentioned the Harry Potter angle (kid gets invitation to magical college), but there was less said of Narnia, which surprised me because that seemed more important to the story. Let's see -- jaded kid goes to college, meets friends (also jaded), gets a girlfriend, graduates, messes around with magic to no good end. And the characters ARE annoying with how dissatisfied and oozing ennui they are for absolutely no reason (although, I guess by definition one never has a reason for that).
But, even with that, I could not resist the snappy dialogue that's much too witty and cutting to ever be realistic (plus everyone had the same voice), but it reminded me of being up too late with drama club friends and being overly sardonic and catty and drinking too much gin. Cripes, I right now realized what I liked about this book -- it made me nostalgic for being 20 and slightly stuck on myself. Yeah, so that's probably a bit indulgent. Josh I found to be especially hilarious, and even when at the end things were supposed to be all very sad, I was snorting like a crazy person over the vaguely Germanic centaurs.
Naggingly, it doesn't quite hold together plot-wise, either. I have a long list of questions I would like to ask Mr. Grossman about many of the choices he made (a minor point, but one that is bothering me -- why are there only four thrones, but five Chatwins?). I still liked it well enough that if I had a magic time machine watch, I would go into the future and get the sequel RIGHT THE FREAK NOW. And then call in sick to work tomorrow.
Grade: B+.
Recommended: Not to anyone who likes fantasy to include Magic and Wonder, but it would be great for people who like fantasy that includes Complaining and Snarkiness. It combines two of my favorite genres, College Stories and Clever People Behaving Badly.
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LibraryThing member AgneJakubauskaite
WHAT IS IT ABOUT?
Lev Grossman’s adult fantasy novel “The Magicians” follows Quentin Coldwater, a smart but mopey teen from Brooklyn. Quentin is disappointed and depressed, and the only thing he is genuinely interested in is a series of five children fantasy novels set in a magical land called
THUMBS UP:
1) Unique perspective on magic.
Grossman can be complemented for an unusual yet very convincing perspective on magic, which might not be that magical after all. In “The Magicians,” magic is complicated and organic, it does not promise you happiness or adventure, and it is definitely not an answer to everything.
2) Realistic and relatable perspective on life.
The characters in “The Magicians” are flawed, depressed and bored. They constantly make bad decisions, do not appreciate what they have and are lost and disappointed in life. Things do not always turn out OK and there is no happily ever after. Sounds like an entry from my diary.
3) Important message.
Indirectly, Grossman urges us readers to seize the moment and appreciate what we have, because if we are not happy with who we are and what we have, there is no guarantee that we will ever be happy, even if we get what we want.
COULD BE BETTER:
1) Misleading comparison to Harry Potter.
I REALLY wanted to love this book. How could I not when it was advertised as Harry Potter for adults? Unfortunately, “The Magicians” is nothing like Harry Potter. I don’t mean it as an insult though; I don’t think this book was supposed to be like Harry Potter. It is rather like Bill Willingham’s comic book series “Fables,” which boldly suggests that happily ever after does not exist. Anyway, Harry Potter comparison totally misdirected my expectations, and, as a result, I was deeply disappointed.
2) VERY depressing.
The life portrayed in “The Magicians” is very realistic, yes, but it’s just too dark and too depressing, without a hint of transformative joy. It’s definitely not an escapist fantasy, but, unfortunately, that’s exactly what I want from the book: to escape into a good story.
3) Unlikable characters.
I neither liked nor cared for any of the characters, which made even the most suspenseful scenes rather boring. They are nothing more than self-centered, arrogant and ungrateful privileged brats who waste their lives away… though, unfortunately, there are many like them in the real world.
4) Overdone.
Although “The Magicians” is indisputably creative, quite often certain details seem a little bit forced, too random and too weird, and almost always extremely cynical.
VERDICT:
Despite my every effort to like this book, I didn’t enjoy it. However, it is creative and extremely realistic (depressing and hopeless included!). Thus if it sounds like something you might want to try out, go ahead and see for yourself. Just don’t expect it to be anything like Harry Potter.
Lev Grossman’s adult fantasy novel “The Magicians” follows Quentin Coldwater, a smart but mopey teen from Brooklyn. Quentin is disappointed and depressed, and the only thing he is genuinely interested in is a series of five children fantasy novels set in a magical land called
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Fillory. When Quentin is unexpectedly admitted to a secret Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy, things seem about to change. However, new powers come with new disappointments. Quentin’s life soon becomes as dull as it was before, until one day he discovers that his childhood fantasy is real. But you know what they say: be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.THUMBS UP:
1) Unique perspective on magic.
Grossman can be complemented for an unusual yet very convincing perspective on magic, which might not be that magical after all. In “The Magicians,” magic is complicated and organic, it does not promise you happiness or adventure, and it is definitely not an answer to everything.
2) Realistic and relatable perspective on life.
The characters in “The Magicians” are flawed, depressed and bored. They constantly make bad decisions, do not appreciate what they have and are lost and disappointed in life. Things do not always turn out OK and there is no happily ever after. Sounds like an entry from my diary.
3) Important message.
Indirectly, Grossman urges us readers to seize the moment and appreciate what we have, because if we are not happy with who we are and what we have, there is no guarantee that we will ever be happy, even if we get what we want.
COULD BE BETTER:
1) Misleading comparison to Harry Potter.
I REALLY wanted to love this book. How could I not when it was advertised as Harry Potter for adults? Unfortunately, “The Magicians” is nothing like Harry Potter. I don’t mean it as an insult though; I don’t think this book was supposed to be like Harry Potter. It is rather like Bill Willingham’s comic book series “Fables,” which boldly suggests that happily ever after does not exist. Anyway, Harry Potter comparison totally misdirected my expectations, and, as a result, I was deeply disappointed.
2) VERY depressing.
The life portrayed in “The Magicians” is very realistic, yes, but it’s just too dark and too depressing, without a hint of transformative joy. It’s definitely not an escapist fantasy, but, unfortunately, that’s exactly what I want from the book: to escape into a good story.
3) Unlikable characters.
I neither liked nor cared for any of the characters, which made even the most suspenseful scenes rather boring. They are nothing more than self-centered, arrogant and ungrateful privileged brats who waste their lives away… though, unfortunately, there are many like them in the real world.
4) Overdone.
Although “The Magicians” is indisputably creative, quite often certain details seem a little bit forced, too random and too weird, and almost always extremely cynical.
VERDICT:
Despite my every effort to like this book, I didn’t enjoy it. However, it is creative and extremely realistic (depressing and hopeless included!). Thus if it sounds like something you might want to try out, go ahead and see for yourself. Just don’t expect it to be anything like Harry Potter.
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LibraryThing member RidgewayGirl
I roared through this novel in just a few days. It's that kind of book. Quentin was always in those gifted and talented programs at school. Raised by older parents who seemed to forget about him for long stretches, he had a lonely childhood, where he spent much of his time fantasizing about the
The Magicians has been compared to the Harry Potter series, but despite the school setting in the first parts of the book, there is less reference to Hogwarts than there is to Narnia. Here, the central characters graduate and move into New York City as adults and then enter into the meat of the novel relatively late.
This is a quick, action-packed read. While Grossman examines what being able to work magic means for young adults sent out into a mundane world, and emphasizes that the world does not generally throw together interesting and safe challenges for those who are floundering, he doesn't let this affect the speed of events. A lot happens, quickly. This is a fun, imaginative novel.
Now for the nit-picking. Grossman doesn't write women well. He does try, but he's not good at it. The two female characters who spend significant time together never interact and dislike each other in a catty way. Girls are either saintlike or looking to make trouble. The guys are complex and capable of having both good and bad traits. And the breasts. There are a lot of them mentioned with reference to shape and size. One character has "heavy breasts". Her breasts are mentioned a lot, and always with the descriptor "heavy", which eventually made me wonder how she could get around so quickly, being weighed down as she was. That said, I enjoyed the book and will eventually read the sequel, hoping that Grossman will, in the meantime, have met some three-dimensional women, gotten to know them beyond their breasts, and been able to add that nuance to his female characters.
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world depicted in a series of children's fantasy novels, one which looks a lot like Narnia. Coming home one November afternoon, he stumbles into what he thinks is another world, but which turns out to be a college of sorts for magicians. The Magicians has been compared to the Harry Potter series, but despite the school setting in the first parts of the book, there is less reference to Hogwarts than there is to Narnia. Here, the central characters graduate and move into New York City as adults and then enter into the meat of the novel relatively late.
This is a quick, action-packed read. While Grossman examines what being able to work magic means for young adults sent out into a mundane world, and emphasizes that the world does not generally throw together interesting and safe challenges for those who are floundering, he doesn't let this affect the speed of events. A lot happens, quickly. This is a fun, imaginative novel.
Now for the nit-picking. Grossman doesn't write women well. He does try, but he's not good at it. The two female characters who spend significant time together never interact and dislike each other in a catty way. Girls are either saintlike or looking to make trouble. The guys are complex and capable of having both good and bad traits. And the breasts. There are a lot of them mentioned with reference to shape and size. One character has "heavy breasts". Her breasts are mentioned a lot, and always with the descriptor "heavy", which eventually made me wonder how she could get around so quickly, being weighed down as she was. That said, I enjoyed the book and will eventually read the sequel, hoping that Grossman will, in the meantime, have met some three-dimensional women, gotten to know them beyond their breasts, and been able to add that nuance to his female characters.
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LibraryThing member C.Vick
Harry Potter for grown ups?
Sure, if your definition of "grown up" is drinking, swearing, and having lots of sex.
Look, I went through that stage too, but it isn't what I'd call the most "grown up" period of my life. I probably had more self-possession at 10 than I did at 20. No one wants to read
Narnia isn't perfect?
Look, I already knew that -- Susan never gets to go back because she makes the appalling mistake of wearing lipstick and developing and interest in boys. Also it's racist.
For the record, I also already knew that you can't always get what you want and that you should be careful what you wish for.
I wanted to like this book, but how can you like a book that is all about irredeemable people in an irredeemable world? They don't care -- why should I? This book could use some Prozac.
I'll give it this: The writing is good. I'll even give it this: Everything up to the moment they fly South is actually enjoyable... but that's because up to that point you keep assuming the main character will actually grow the hell up eventually!
But no. He never does. No one ever does. It was enough to make *me* want to go drink myself into oblivion.
Sure, if your definition of "grown up" is drinking, swearing, and having lots of sex.
Look, I went through that stage too, but it isn't what I'd call the most "grown up" period of my life. I probably had more self-possession at 10 than I did at 20. No one wants to read
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about my college-age nihilistic/hedonistic stage either. Narnia isn't perfect?
Look, I already knew that -- Susan never gets to go back because she makes the appalling mistake of wearing lipstick and developing and interest in boys. Also it's racist.
For the record, I also already knew that you can't always get what you want and that you should be careful what you wish for.
I wanted to like this book, but how can you like a book that is all about irredeemable people in an irredeemable world? They don't care -- why should I? This book could use some Prozac.
I'll give it this: The writing is good. I'll even give it this: Everything up to the moment they fly South is actually enjoyable... but that's because up to that point you keep assuming the main character will actually grow the hell up eventually!
But no. He never does. No one ever does. It was enough to make *me* want to go drink myself into oblivion.
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LibraryThing member seitherin
Unlike so many others, I was unimpressed. The story is a mash-up of C. S. Lewis and J. K. Rowling peopled by foul-mouthed, sexually promiscuous, alcoholic, drug abusing, self-obsessed college students who manage to remain unsympathetic throughout the story.
LibraryThing member Razinha
This came recommended as a supposed "grown up Harry Potter". I'll submit "hardly"...actually not even close to "hardly". The inter-student exchanges are quite juvenile, the plot following an established formula as interpreted by Grossman, and in short, The Magicians isn't all that imaginative or
"Boys"?? Is this college in the 1930s?
Of course, the sex elements do push the book into the "grown up" realm, and they seem to be included solely to do that. But this book is actually just a poorly written story about 14 year old boys (even the women talk/think/act like 14 year old boys) who drink and swear a lot. And in what universe would a 22 year old refer to himself as a "grown up"? Grossman is so inconsistent that it makes for burdensome tortuous reading.
I set this aside for quite a while, finally pushed to the end of "Book 1" and thought to myself, jeez...there's more?? Don't mistake my generous two stars...this is really awful stuff.
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original. Grossman does not, at least in this novel, have the talent of Rowling (and he's not above smarmy nods to her ... "time turner"; "send me an owl"...) Add in the irritating style issues that grate... "He got up and padded over to a window." "padded"?? Who talks like that, much less writes like that? Nobody talks like that, so why write it? I ask because Grossman seems to want to write as if he's narrating a casual conversation. And then there is: "Most boys like to choose their own ties." "Boys"?? Is this college in the 1930s?
Of course, the sex elements do push the book into the "grown up" realm, and they seem to be included solely to do that. But this book is actually just a poorly written story about 14 year old boys (even the women talk/think/act like 14 year old boys) who drink and swear a lot. And in what universe would a 22 year old refer to himself as a "grown up"? Grossman is so inconsistent that it makes for burdensome tortuous reading.
I set this aside for quite a while, finally pushed to the end of "Book 1" and thought to myself, jeez...there's more?? Don't mistake my generous two stars...this is really awful stuff.
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LibraryThing member Scoshie
Nice read. I think the thing that I appreaciated most was the language in which the book was written. I am a huge fan of using the most appropriate word for the situation and Lev Grossman does it. The book is well written and I for 1 can not wait for the next book
LibraryThing member Kaethe
Won't bother to check it out. Bookshelves of Doom's review has put me off. I don't want to read a book with such an annoying protagonist. Particularly a coming-of-age in which the dude won't grow up.
***
But then Stephen thought it was great. Alright, back on the list.
***
I received the set as a
But the main character Quentin is a dick. He is entitled and insufferable and I don't understand how it is possible that he has any friends. Let alone a girlfriend. It is impossible for me to image that he will do anything other than go rampaging through multiple universes screwing them all to hell and gone, because the guy cannot see farther than the end of his penis. Because it is fantasy there is, I suppose, a possibility that the series will end with the women of multiple worlds beating him to death, and therefor I had to stop reading, because it might *not* end with his painful and humiliating death, and I can't bear to give up that idea.
***
But then Stephen thought it was great. Alright, back on the list.
***
I received the set as a
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Christmas present last year (2014) and decided to finally tackle them. Grossman loves books, and there are a lot of book jokes and asides and allusions. That is wonderful. Truly delightful, causing me moments of glee.But the main character Quentin is a dick. He is entitled and insufferable and I don't understand how it is possible that he has any friends. Let alone a girlfriend. It is impossible for me to image that he will do anything other than go rampaging through multiple universes screwing them all to hell and gone, because the guy cannot see farther than the end of his penis. Because it is fantasy there is, I suppose, a possibility that the series will end with the women of multiple worlds beating him to death, and therefor I had to stop reading, because it might *not* end with his painful and humiliating death, and I can't bear to give up that idea.
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LibraryThing member flying_monkeys
"... it's like he's opening the covers of a book, but a book that did what books always promise to do and never actually quite did: get you out, really out, of where you were and into somewhere better."
If you're expecting The Magicians to be that kind of book, you'll end up deeply disappointed, and
1 sta
If you're expecting The Magicians to be that kind of book, you'll end up deeply disappointed, and
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possibly borderline depressed. I rarely rate a book 1 star; nowadays, I'll go the DNF route rather than subject myself to the pure torture that was my reading experience with this book, but I kept hoping ... ugh, I'm exhausted simply recalling how much I loathed Quentin and Julia and Janet -- pretty much every character. How spoiled and snobby and selfish they all were. Alice and Penny were the only two I could even, maybe, if I looked from just the right angle, tolerate. Anyway, wasn't the book for me.1 sta
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LibraryThing member beserene
'The Magicians' was really for people who felt that Harry Potter needed more alcohol, sex, and bitterness. It was post-modern fantasy, in the sense that it took a good story and sucked all the joy out of it, rendering its details in an atmosphere of despair and despondence rather than with childish
It strikes me that this is exactly what it appears to be -- a novel written by someone who loved children's fantasy growing up, but who was bitterly disappointed that adult life turned out to have nothing to do with that beloved literature, that the happy ending, long awaited, never came. As such, it really has no hope -- unlike its fantasy predecessors, it is not about the spirit of adventure and faith in mankind or any such dreams -- it is rather an internal text, about our own struggle with ourselves, as so much post-modern literature is. The end result is that some people will find this book profound, edgy, gritty, and a welcome alternative to the "childish" fantasy that is so prevalent currently. Others, however, will find it to be self-obsessed, pompous, and depressing. It's not necessarily for everyone, so approach with caution.
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exuberance that is typical of most fantasy literature. I can see why "literary types" (and I say that with some self-conscious irony) liked it -- the novel is conscious of itself as more "real-world" than the fantasies of our childhood, like Narnia (which, along with HP and Tolkien, receives almost continuous homages throughout), and seems to hold itself superior to those classics. Our "hero", Quentin Coldwater, finds himself depressed no matter how wondrous or magical his circumstances, and through him the book comments on the human tendency to wait for a fantasy rather than appreciate or find joy in reality. The process of reading this novel is sometimes painful, often awkward, and occasionally thought-provoking -- but rarely is it genuinely pleasurable.It strikes me that this is exactly what it appears to be -- a novel written by someone who loved children's fantasy growing up, but who was bitterly disappointed that adult life turned out to have nothing to do with that beloved literature, that the happy ending, long awaited, never came. As such, it really has no hope -- unlike its fantasy predecessors, it is not about the spirit of adventure and faith in mankind or any such dreams -- it is rather an internal text, about our own struggle with ourselves, as so much post-modern literature is. The end result is that some people will find this book profound, edgy, gritty, and a welcome alternative to the "childish" fantasy that is so prevalent currently. Others, however, will find it to be self-obsessed, pompous, and depressing. It's not necessarily for everyone, so approach with caution.
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LibraryThing member g33kgrrl
While I am enjoyed The Magicians, and I can see why people liked it so much, the viewpoint character Quentin is made me insane with his entitled, self-absorbed, privileged, double-standard, whiny bullshit. I have to deal with enough of that in real life. I thought it's building to something as the
Also, why the hell did Alice have to be Women-in-Refrigeratorsed? Goddamn.
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book seems aware of the kind of person he is, but ... ugh. It just didn't. He is an ideal characterization of someone with an external locus of control, however. Perhaps the other two books in the series get to the point of actually dealing with his horribleness, but I'm not holding my breath. I'll still read them, because the writing is pretty good and the magic is really interesting, but - ugh. It took me forever to even start the book after the first two pages because that's how I felt about Quentin, and it never changed.Also, why the hell did Alice have to be Women-in-Refrigeratorsed? Goddamn.
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LibraryThing member hairballsrus
Harry Potter in college as channeled through the cast of St. Elmo's Fire. Throw in some Narnia and you've got it. Well done, fabulous world building, but I found it next to impossible to care about the main characters. They're obnoxious, self-serving, pompous brats. You're meant to have sympathy
Just drop them in a burlap sack and drown them in a lake.
Problem solved. :)
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for their struggle with ennui; they're forced to realize early on that they can do anything they want....but there's nothing they want. Just drop them in a burlap sack and drown them in a lake.
Problem solved. :)
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LibraryThing member suetu
Meet Quentin Coldwater. He’s the proverbial smartest kid in his class, and quite possibly the most unhappy. Quentin and his friends are in the process of interviewing for colleges. His most recent interview has gone very much against the plan, and through a series of mysterious events, Quentin
After agreeing to take an entrance exam, Quentin is granted admission to Brakebills, a college of magic. As Quentin would say, “Wait, magic is real?” This may well be the first novel I’ve read where the characters had a bigger problem with willing suspension of disbelief than the readers—or at least this reader, because I was completely captivated from the opening pages.
As others have summarized, this novel explores the education and early post-grad years of several young magicians. No, it’s not Harry Potter. After all, it’s about kids who read Rowling and Tolkien and watched Star Trek. (“Didn’t any of you watch Star Trek? This is basic prime directive stuff.”) This is about kids from the real world. They cuss, binge drink, they explore their sexuality, they make bad choices, and they know all the same pop culture references you do. In addition to these cultural references, Grossman pays homage in ways subtle and unsubtle to classic fantasies. Fillory, for example, might as well be called Narnia. Nonetheless, I enjoyed each allusion I managed to catch.
I was also interested in the way the less, um, magical side of magic was explored. Learning magic is difficult and painful work, and ennui seems to be an epidemic among adult magicians. Really, what are you supposed to do with yourself when all your basic needs are taken care of? What is there to strive for? While Quentin and his friends eventually do stumble upon a quest, he rightly points out that there is a dearth of monsters to battle in the magical world.
And Lev Grossman can write—don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Reading The Magicians reminded me why I’d enjoyed his last novel, Codex, so much. Namely, he creates quirky stories that are wildly imaginative, you never know how they’ll end, and which feature some remarkably good prose. It is clear that Grossman is a polarizing author. All I can say is that his work truly speaks to me. Obviously, that’s not true of everyone, but I highly recommend The Magicians for readers willing to put aside their expectations.
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winds up in what he perceives to be another world. He suspects he may be in the mystical (fictional) world that he’s been a bit obsessed with since childhood. “Is this Fillory?” he asks. “No, upstate New York.” This exchange is typical of the ironic blending of fantasy and reality found throughout the novel.After agreeing to take an entrance exam, Quentin is granted admission to Brakebills, a college of magic. As Quentin would say, “Wait, magic is real?” This may well be the first novel I’ve read where the characters had a bigger problem with willing suspension of disbelief than the readers—or at least this reader, because I was completely captivated from the opening pages.
As others have summarized, this novel explores the education and early post-grad years of several young magicians. No, it’s not Harry Potter. After all, it’s about kids who read Rowling and Tolkien and watched Star Trek. (“Didn’t any of you watch Star Trek? This is basic prime directive stuff.”) This is about kids from the real world. They cuss, binge drink, they explore their sexuality, they make bad choices, and they know all the same pop culture references you do. In addition to these cultural references, Grossman pays homage in ways subtle and unsubtle to classic fantasies. Fillory, for example, might as well be called Narnia. Nonetheless, I enjoyed each allusion I managed to catch.
I was also interested in the way the less, um, magical side of magic was explored. Learning magic is difficult and painful work, and ennui seems to be an epidemic among adult magicians. Really, what are you supposed to do with yourself when all your basic needs are taken care of? What is there to strive for? While Quentin and his friends eventually do stumble upon a quest, he rightly points out that there is a dearth of monsters to battle in the magical world.
And Lev Grossman can write—don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Reading The Magicians reminded me why I’d enjoyed his last novel, Codex, so much. Namely, he creates quirky stories that are wildly imaginative, you never know how they’ll end, and which feature some remarkably good prose. It is clear that Grossman is a polarizing author. All I can say is that his work truly speaks to me. Obviously, that’s not true of everyone, but I highly recommend The Magicians for readers willing to put aside their expectations.
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Awards
Alex Award (2010)
The Kitschies (Finalist — 2009)
Los Angeles Times Best Books of the Year (Science Fiction — 2009)
Language
Original language
English
Original publication date
2009-08-11
Physical description
416 p.; 9.56 inches
ISBN
0670020559 / 9780670020553