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A review by trin
The Magicians by Lev Grossman
3.0
Is it better for an author to be aware or unaware that his protagonist is a dick? If he doesn’t know, then his whole conception of his work is out of whack, and that’s bad. But if he does know, then he’s inflicting this jerk on the reader on purpose. That can work, I suppose, if the main character is really supposed to be unsympathetic, but asking one’s readers to put up with a douchebag protagonist for 400-plus pages is no small thing.
The main character of The Magicians nearly killed the book for me, and while I am pretty sure that Grossman meant to make Quentin at least a bit of a jerk, I’m pretty sure he didn’t intend his dickishness to have quite such far-reaching power or consequences. I sympathized—actually, make that empathized, and strongly—with Quentin’s initial plight: he’s a smart guy who feels dissatisfied with his life, in large part because he never got to go to the magical, (supposedly) fictional land ofNarnia Fillory. Dude, I feel you. Where Quentin (and to some extent Grossman) loses me, however, is in continuing to be a sour, arrogant prick even after he gets accepted to an elite magical college he never knew existed. Some of this is, I am sure, intentional—part of the point of the book is that nothing satisfies Quentin—but that knowing that didn’t make me want to smack him any less. Or make me less want to shout, “You ungrateful ass! Why must I be stuck spending the entirety of this narrative with you?”
Because Quentin aside, it is a narrative with some serious perks. Grossman’s system of magic is fully-realized and really impressively seriously dangerous. There are some fabulous sequences, both at the magical university and outside of it. But there is, on balance, also a lot of tell instead of show—long, summarizing passages. And I really wish the last third of the book had instead been the last half.
It’s a flawed novel, no question, and sometimes it drove me absolutely, throw-it-against-the-wall nuts. But it was also at times emotionally affecting, contained some thoughtful meta, and made me consider how I want to approach fantasy conventions in my own work. Step one: skip having a total douche as my protagonist. And how ’bout this: make the main character a woman for once.
The main character of The Magicians nearly killed the book for me, and while I am pretty sure that Grossman meant to make Quentin at least a bit of a jerk, I’m pretty sure he didn’t intend his dickishness to have quite such far-reaching power or consequences. I sympathized—actually, make that empathized, and strongly—with Quentin’s initial plight: he’s a smart guy who feels dissatisfied with his life, in large part because he never got to go to the magical, (supposedly) fictional land of
Because Quentin aside, it is a narrative with some serious perks. Grossman’s system of magic is fully-realized and really impressively seriously dangerous. There are some fabulous sequences, both at the magical university and outside of it. But there is, on balance, also a lot of tell instead of show—long, summarizing passages. And I really wish the last third of the book had instead been the last half.
It’s a flawed novel, no question, and sometimes it drove me absolutely, throw-it-against-the-wall nuts. But it was also at times emotionally affecting, contained some thoughtful meta, and made me consider how I want to approach fantasy conventions in my own work. Step one: skip having a total douche as my protagonist. And how ’bout this: make the main character a woman for once.