The Magicians

So. I just finished reading The Magicians by Lev Grossman. Considering the amount of time I spend on the lovely Metra these days, I can't go long without a good book. The very day after I finished the Stieg Larsson series, I walked over to Waldenbooks in Ogilvie and spent nearly my entire lunch hour browsing for the perfect commuter book (and considering how much I liked The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo trilogy, this book had a lot to live up to). When I finally came upon Grossman's novel - a New York Times Bestseller and a Border's staff recommendation billed as "Harry Potter for adults" - I knew I had found my match.

The book started off on a great note. The main character is a total nerd. Highly intelligent, Quentin has an unfortunate obsession with a Narnia-esque children's book series that leaves him with both few friends and a dissatisfaction with his non-magic world. He can't stop his longing for the grandeur and adventure of a fantasy realm; then one day, just his luck! Quentin receives an invitation to an elite college of magic. From here, you would expect magic wands, Quidditch games, and a kindly headmaster. What you get instead is the oddest, most compelling piece of twisted, violent, disillusioned fantasy fiction I have ever read.

Ultimately, the best way to describe this novel is Catcher in the Rye + Harry Potter + Narnia + Quentin Tarantino. The nods to C.S. Lewis and J.K. Rowling are so blatant that you really can't miss them. Grossman just gives worlds with talking animals and magic potions his own twist by sprinkling in liberal doses of swearing, alcohol, drugs and sex. The characters channel Holden Caulfield by fighting disillusionment and depression and struggling for a sense of meaning in their lives - in spite of their awesome magical abilities. When Quentin and his classmates do finally shake off their post-graduate vodka-scotch haze, they stumble into the type of magical adventure Quentin had always dreamed of when reading his beloved fantasy books. Yet, the quest offers up violent dangers (not just the benevolent talking beavers and centaurs of Narnia), and is still haunted by the same sense of meaninglessness felt on Earth.

This book is almost too complicated to sum up, and I wish more than anything that I knew someone else reading it right now. I need someone to commiserate with me over the book's complete oddness. And while I don't know that I enjoyed reading it, I could not put it down, and I am already impatient for the sequel's arrival next summer. So if you want to be utterly thrown off by a dark interpretation of a childhood fantasy...dive into The Magicians. If not, steer towards more typical summer reading choices.

Also, I'm welcoming suggestions for my next commuter book!

Eclipse

I saw Eclipse last night. (Specifically, I was harassed through work-email, gmail, text, and phone conversations until I agreed to go with my friend that wanted to see Eclipse last night). Here is the run-down.

I read all the books slightly ahead of the curve. I got to be the one to recommend the Stepenie Meyer series to my friends before they became wildly popular. (No, I did not think that they were new literary classics. As an English major, I could recognize that the works of authors like Oscar Wilde, Ernest Hemingway and J.K. Rowling held infinitely more value). However, I enjoyed the books for what they were: a teenage vampire love story. Because of this appreciation for the novels, two years ago (unlike today), I was not ashamed to go see Twilight on opening night.

Back then, though, there existed a semblance of control and dignity about the series. Nordstrom did not have a Twilight Saga clothing line, people remained undecided about where their loyalties lay (Team Edward or Team Jacob) and I did not yet know highly intimate details about Taylor Lautner's ab-tastic workout routine. True, there was no way to avoid viewing the film sandwiched between rows of squealing, swooning tweens, but I did it with a minimum of shame.

Now, things have shifted. The hype of the series has far surpassed the actual content of the films (and probably even of the books that I once enjoyed).

Eclipse was entertaining, mind you. It was just - at the same time - so bad. For all the months and months of build-up, Summit should be able to produce a slightly better movie. The real heart of the Twilight plot lines lies with the teenage angst that all three main actors seem totally incapable of effectively portraying. Add to all this poor acting some ill-conceived special effects and the raccoon on top of Kristin Stewart's head that is supposed to pass as a wig - and it's a recipe for a movie worth a potential rental, not the $10 theater ticket price.

The final nail in the Twilight vampires' non-existent coffins? I have moved onward and upward. In my maturity, I no longer pine for a sparkly, high school vampire too chaste to make a move on his heroine. Instead, thanks to the advent of True Blood, I've seen that a real vampire (Hello, Eric Northman) worries less about his beloved's soul and more about hunting werewolves and chasing Estonian tail in the most explicit way the HBO rating system will allow. Teenage Twilight fans might still be satisfied with the passionate Jacob-Bella kiss that occurs in Eclipse. But after True Blood forever raised my expectations with the sheer amount of "adult content" it can pack into one episode, Twilight pales in comparison.

I would like to say that I have learned my lesson, that I will of course wait until the final Twilight movie - Breaking Dawn - comes out on DVD. However, the plot of this book was so off-the-wall that I might get sucked into making the trip to the theater one last time. Until then, however, I am glad I have True Blood to satisfy all vampire-cravings.