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A review by jkwomack
The Magicians by Lev Grossman
1.0
Life is too short to read crappy books.
At the same time, I don't like not finishing what I start.
I mean, this is a best seller right? Yeah. It's got magic and I like magic, right? Yeah. It can't be that bad, right? No, utterly and completely wrong.
I've been trying to read this book since September. In contrast, I read the entire, unabridged version of The Stand in a little over a day (and while unabashedly skipping out on college classes, back in the 90s, because I simply could NOT put it down). So, I'm a fast reader - except when a book feels like a chore and that's all this damn thing has ever felt like.
You know that feeling, back in school, where your teacher or professor assigns a book to you which is critically acclaimed but somehow manages to suck all the joy out of your life, until you ponder using it as kindling when you've finished it? (I'm looking at you, Hemingway.)
Anyway, this book reads like an outline of what could be a really interesting world, if it were to be fleshed out to any real depth and if it wasn't filled with some of the most unlikable characters I've ever had the displeasure of meeting outside of the true crime section of a bookstore.
Seventy percent into the book and we've had five or six, too many at any rate, years of angst-filled, unlikable, but inexplicably special snowflake of a college age twat doing this and doing that, all of which reek of douche-baggery, and all in all nothing particularly interesting or compelling has happened.
There was, at one point, much earlier, an attack and I thought, "neat something is going to happen, we're on the arc!" Then I was summarily dumped off the arc in favor of some more of the author's self-pleasuring exposition.
Where the hell is the story arc? Every interesting thing which happens, things which lead you to believe this could eventually be a satisfying story, is misused, botched and bungled to the point of madness.
Is it possible to get literary blue balls? If so, I have them and we're breaking up, Grossman!
At the same time, I don't like not finishing what I start.
I mean, this is a best seller right? Yeah. It's got magic and I like magic, right? Yeah. It can't be that bad, right? No, utterly and completely wrong.
I've been trying to read this book since September. In contrast, I read the entire, unabridged version of The Stand in a little over a day (and while unabashedly skipping out on college classes, back in the 90s, because I simply could NOT put it down). So, I'm a fast reader - except when a book feels like a chore and that's all this damn thing has ever felt like.
You know that feeling, back in school, where your teacher or professor assigns a book to you which is critically acclaimed but somehow manages to suck all the joy out of your life, until you ponder using it as kindling when you've finished it? (I'm looking at you, Hemingway.)
Anyway, this book reads like an outline of what could be a really interesting world, if it were to be fleshed out to any real depth and if it wasn't filled with some of the most unlikable characters I've ever had the displeasure of meeting outside of the true crime section of a bookstore.
Seventy percent into the book and we've had five or six, too many at any rate, years of angst-filled, unlikable, but inexplicably special snowflake of a college age twat doing this and doing that, all of which reek of douche-baggery, and all in all nothing particularly interesting or compelling has happened.
There was, at one point, much earlier, an attack and I thought, "neat something is going to happen, we're on the arc!" Then I was summarily dumped off the arc in favor of some more of the author's self-pleasuring exposition.
Where the hell is the story arc? Every interesting thing which happens, things which lead you to believe this could eventually be a satisfying story, is misused, botched and bungled to the point of madness.
Is it possible to get literary blue balls? If so, I have them and we're breaking up, Grossman!