Scan barcode
A review by atroskity
Cart and Cwidder by Diana Wynne Jones
5.0
Re-read.
This is the first installment in Diana Wynne Jones’ epic Dalemark Quartet. I first read this series when I was 13 or 14 (which is the intended age group), and I remember being so swept up in these books, they remained in my “favorites of all-time” for many years afterward and began my lifelong love of epic, multi-volume fantasy. Of course, revisiting something you LOVED when you were in middle school is always a gamble. So, the real question is: did it hold up?
Yes!
And no.
Cart and Cwidder is the story of Moril Clennensson and his family of travelling Singers. Moril is an eleven-year-old musician and daydreamer who lives on the road and performs with his family all over the politically divided land of Dalemark. When the family takes on an arrogant young passenger named Kialan, a chain of events begins that will change not only Moril’s life, but will affect the entire land of Dalemark.
I wanted to leave my description as vague as possible, as it is the progression of discovery that makes it so much fun. But I do want to look at the elements I still love. Moril is a fantastic character, seemingly ordinary and likeable, but obviously designed for bigger things. For those of us that spent most of our teenage years in a fog of daydreams, he’s the embodiment of the dreamy but secretly astute creatures we may have believed (or hoped) ourselves to be. Moril sees things, but people rarely realize it, and the look of vague inattention on his face fools those around him into constantly underestimating his abilities. He's an average boy stuck in a not-so-average situation, and he proves himself to be up to the task, but not without some sadness and regret.
The emphasis on the lives of itinerant musicians in this first volume gives us an early glimpse at the beautifully constructed world of Dalemark. It is a land divided; there hasn’t been a king on the throne in over 200 years, and the earls that rule the various territories have created a fierce division between North and South that promotes prejudice and keeps the people separate and easy to manipulate. The South is known for being efficient and aristocratic, but also harsh and authoritarian. To the North, people have more freedom, but life is a bit more hardscrabble in the cold and less productive climate. (Yes, I do realize that there are definite American Civil War divisions going on here. Agricultural, repressive south vs. progressive, industrial north is a very old story from many Western nations at this point. But it works.)
This being a fantasy series and not simply a work of pre-industrial historical fiction, there is magic and wonder aplenty, but it is done in such a way as to not overwhelm the character-driven nature of the story. Moril inherits a very old and mysterious musical instrument from his father, known as a cwidder which, to the best of my knowledge, resembles a large lute. This cwidder is *ahem* instrumental to the series, both in this volume and later on. When Moril unlocks its magical potential near the end of this adventure, the real story is just beginning.
As the first entry in a four-part series, Cart and Cwidder does a very good job of setting up the overarching structure of the whole. It gives us an overview of the land, and insight into the nature of the North-South division. Moril is a living, breathing manifestation of the opposing sides; his father is from the North, while his mother was once a Southern aristocrat. The religious belief structure that comes into greater play in later installments is mostly absent, but it isn’t necessary and is probably better off without it. Jones does an excellent job of creating a solid foundation to build on later, not overwhelming the reader right out of the gate, but prompting a desire to learn more as the story progresses.
Now, in what ways does this not hold up to my original perceptions? In this volume, there actually isn’t much that let me down. As I mentioned, this introduction does a very good job of slowly building a world in which the reader becomes more and more involved. I suppose my only argument against it, and would keep it from receiving a full five stars if this were my first time reading it, is Jones’ inclination to rush understanding in some instances. There is a tendency to have characters discover things in a rush, which requires a suspension of disbelief I was much better at when I was a teenager. It’s not entirely unconvincing; the story couldn’t survive if it was, but it can be a little less satisfying than it could be. However, I still love it and to explain, I’m going to lift a phrase from a fellow Goodreader that really captures the essence of my continuing appreciation: “I'm sorta fond of my fond memories of fondness.”* Yeah, that could mean I’m in love with the ideal of my initial reading. But I don’t think, in this case, that it does. My fond memories and my current enjoyment came together quite nicely to create a lovely, nostalgic experience that doesn’t overshadow the story’s ultimate worth.
Ultimately, I'm leaving the 5 star rating. As a first time read at the age of 27, it may be more in the 4 range, but if you average my initial response and my current one, it really does still merit 5.
(Oh, and my only other complaint: the horrible, childish covers on the British Oxford paperback editions. The library copies I read had lovely covers; these are a travesty.)
Old (yay!):
New (boo!):
*Thanks to Paquita Maria Sanchez and this review http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/62938107 for providing such an astute distillation of my experience.
This is the first installment in Diana Wynne Jones’ epic Dalemark Quartet. I first read this series when I was 13 or 14 (which is the intended age group), and I remember being so swept up in these books, they remained in my “favorites of all-time” for many years afterward and began my lifelong love of epic, multi-volume fantasy. Of course, revisiting something you LOVED when you were in middle school is always a gamble. So, the real question is: did it hold up?
Yes!
And no.
Cart and Cwidder is the story of Moril Clennensson and his family of travelling Singers. Moril is an eleven-year-old musician and daydreamer who lives on the road and performs with his family all over the politically divided land of Dalemark. When the family takes on an arrogant young passenger named Kialan, a chain of events begins that will change not only Moril’s life, but will affect the entire land of Dalemark.
I wanted to leave my description as vague as possible, as it is the progression of discovery that makes it so much fun. But I do want to look at the elements I still love. Moril is a fantastic character, seemingly ordinary and likeable, but obviously designed for bigger things. For those of us that spent most of our teenage years in a fog of daydreams, he’s the embodiment of the dreamy but secretly astute creatures we may have believed (or hoped) ourselves to be. Moril sees things, but people rarely realize it, and the look of vague inattention on his face fools those around him into constantly underestimating his abilities. He's an average boy stuck in a not-so-average situation, and he proves himself to be up to the task, but not without some sadness and regret.
The emphasis on the lives of itinerant musicians in this first volume gives us an early glimpse at the beautifully constructed world of Dalemark. It is a land divided; there hasn’t been a king on the throne in over 200 years, and the earls that rule the various territories have created a fierce division between North and South that promotes prejudice and keeps the people separate and easy to manipulate. The South is known for being efficient and aristocratic, but also harsh and authoritarian. To the North, people have more freedom, but life is a bit more hardscrabble in the cold and less productive climate. (Yes, I do realize that there are definite American Civil War divisions going on here. Agricultural, repressive south vs. progressive, industrial north is a very old story from many Western nations at this point. But it works.)
This being a fantasy series and not simply a work of pre-industrial historical fiction, there is magic and wonder aplenty, but it is done in such a way as to not overwhelm the character-driven nature of the story. Moril inherits a very old and mysterious musical instrument from his father, known as a cwidder which, to the best of my knowledge, resembles a large lute. This cwidder is *ahem* instrumental to the series, both in this volume and later on. When Moril unlocks its magical potential near the end of this adventure, the real story is just beginning.
As the first entry in a four-part series, Cart and Cwidder does a very good job of setting up the overarching structure of the whole. It gives us an overview of the land, and insight into the nature of the North-South division. Moril is a living, breathing manifestation of the opposing sides; his father is from the North, while his mother was once a Southern aristocrat. The religious belief structure that comes into greater play in later installments is mostly absent, but it isn’t necessary and is probably better off without it. Jones does an excellent job of creating a solid foundation to build on later, not overwhelming the reader right out of the gate, but prompting a desire to learn more as the story progresses.
Now, in what ways does this not hold up to my original perceptions? In this volume, there actually isn’t much that let me down. As I mentioned, this introduction does a very good job of slowly building a world in which the reader becomes more and more involved. I suppose my only argument against it, and would keep it from receiving a full five stars if this were my first time reading it, is Jones’ inclination to rush understanding in some instances. There is a tendency to have characters discover things in a rush, which requires a suspension of disbelief I was much better at when I was a teenager. It’s not entirely unconvincing; the story couldn’t survive if it was, but it can be a little less satisfying than it could be. However, I still love it and to explain, I’m going to lift a phrase from a fellow Goodreader that really captures the essence of my continuing appreciation: “I'm sorta fond of my fond memories of fondness.”* Yeah, that could mean I’m in love with the ideal of my initial reading. But I don’t think, in this case, that it does. My fond memories and my current enjoyment came together quite nicely to create a lovely, nostalgic experience that doesn’t overshadow the story’s ultimate worth.
Ultimately, I'm leaving the 5 star rating. As a first time read at the age of 27, it may be more in the 4 range, but if you average my initial response and my current one, it really does still merit 5.
(Oh, and my only other complaint: the horrible, childish covers on the British Oxford paperback editions. The library copies I read had lovely covers; these are a travesty.)
Old (yay!):
New (boo!):
*Thanks to Paquita Maria Sanchez and this review http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/62938107 for providing such an astute distillation of my experience.