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A review by saroz162
Skellig by David Almond
3.0
I think enjoyment of this book probably depends a lot on the kind of fantasy that appeals to you. If you like low-fantasy, even magical realism, novels where the fantasy reflects and explains the emotional undercurrent of the story, I think this could be a very impactful book (especially if you read it as a child). As a jaded adult with a preference for fantastical works, though, I found it at least somewhat wanting.
I like the dichotomy Arnold sets up between the mundanely earthy Skellig - a creature who complains of arthritis and demands aspirin and Chinese food - and the mysterious, almost dreamlike way in which he affects the world of Michael, the protagonist, and his friend Mina. What appeals to me far less is the language that implies an almost psychic link between Michael and his baby sister, who is born with a heart condition (a Chekhov's gun if ever I've met one). How Skellig's arrival impacts this situation threatens to send the book into "spiritual woo-woo" territory several times. Arnold tries to throttle any overt religiosity by bringing evolution into it, but it honestly just muddies the water even further. Is Skellig really there? Apparently so - Mina can see him, too. Is he what he appears to be? Probably. Why did he show up in Michael's life at this precise moment? Er...
The whole book ends up in an emotional soup that combines despair, faith, and awakening all at the same time. Some readers may (and obviously do) find this cathartic, but to my mind, it's too pat; several logical loose ends are simply covered over with a brief bit of handwaving. We really never know much about Skellig, who he is, or how he grows strong again. It just happens - in the space of a few lines - because his recovery is required by the emotional climax. While Michael's own emotional catharsis makes sense in the context of the information he is given, because the book is told in first-person, we never know more than he does. Our awareness remains at the level of a ten-year-old - and a relatively passive ten-year-old, at that.
There are some obvious similarities between this book and Patrick Ness' A Monster Calls, and I think the Ness book pulls it off somewhat better, in part because its climax, while similarly telegraphed, doesn't pull any punch. That book faces up to the anger that comes with grief, and importantly, its fantasy elements spring naturally from the real-life conflict (and would not exist without that conflict). Skellig, on the other hand, works fantasy elements into position to underscore and solve conflict - which is a different approach, and to my mind, less effective
I like the dichotomy Arnold sets up between the mundanely earthy Skellig - a creature who complains of arthritis and demands aspirin and Chinese food - and the mysterious, almost dreamlike way in which he affects the world of Michael, the protagonist, and his friend Mina. What appeals to me far less is the language that implies an almost psychic link between Michael and his baby sister, who is born with a heart condition (a Chekhov's gun if ever I've met one). How Skellig's arrival impacts this situation threatens to send the book into "spiritual woo-woo" territory several times. Arnold tries to throttle any overt religiosity by bringing evolution into it, but it honestly just muddies the water even further. Is Skellig really there? Apparently so - Mina can see him, too. Is he what he appears to be? Probably. Why did he show up in Michael's life at this precise moment? Er...
The whole book ends up in an emotional soup that combines despair, faith, and awakening all at the same time. Some readers may (and obviously do) find this cathartic, but to my mind, it's too pat; several logical loose ends are simply covered over with a brief bit of handwaving. We really never know much about Skellig, who he is, or how he grows strong again. It just happens - in the space of a few lines - because his recovery is required by the emotional climax. While Michael's own emotional catharsis makes sense in the context of the information he is given, because the book is told in first-person, we never know more than he does. Our awareness remains at the level of a ten-year-old - and a relatively passive ten-year-old, at that.
There are some obvious similarities between this book and Patrick Ness' A Monster Calls, and I think the Ness book pulls it off somewhat better, in part because its climax, while similarly telegraphed, doesn't pull any punch. That book faces up to the anger that comes with grief, and importantly, its fantasy elements spring naturally from the real-life conflict (and would not exist without that conflict). Skellig, on the other hand, works fantasy elements into position to underscore and solve conflict - which is a different approach, and to my mind, less effective