The Bartimaeus trilogy
Jan. 11th, 2012 09:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerMy college roommate adored Jonathan Stroud’s Bartimaeus trilogy.
“They’re awesomely awesome!” she said.
“I wrote to the author and he wrote me back and he DREW A BAT on the letter!” she cried.
“And they’re sitting right on my shelf, sparkling iridescently and BEGGING TO BE READ!” she exclaimed, fixing me with a meaning gaze.
Naturally, I didn’t get around to reading them until after graduation.
And boy am I sorry, because we could have had awesomely awesome discussions about the Bartimaeus trilogy. These are excellent books, a brilliant antidote to the SECRET MAGICAL CREATURES syndrome I ranted about yesterday. The plotting is tight, the pacing fast, and the wizards out in the open in a world that is all the more compelling because it’s explicated mainly in throwaway comments. (The story is set in an alternate British Empire, which helps ground the reader.)
But though the setting is exquisitely rendered, it’s the characters who make the books awesome. There’s the eponymous Bartimaeus, of course, whose snarky voice and discursive footnotes lighten the narrative and provide it much of its forward motion. And then there’s Kitty, a member of the Resistance. Stubborn, idealistic, and angry, Kitty provides a necessary counterpoint to both the world’s grimness and Nathaniel’s...Nathaniel-ness.
Though the books are called the Bartimaeus trilogy, it’s really Nathaniel who is the center of the books. Bartimaeus is four thousand years old and not going to change any time soon; Nathaniel is the emotional center of the novel. He’s idealistic, honorable, and brave to the point of foolish heroism - and man, is he an asshole.
He’s not an anti-hero. He’s a hero so imbued with irritating qualities that you occasionally want Bartmaeus to drown him in a bucket. He’s touchy, ambitious, untrustworthy, vain, and even more arrogant than his not-inconsiderable abilities warrant. He believes wholeheartedly in the rightness of rule by magicians, even as he realizes that the current magician government is venial and corrupt.
It’s just that the ruling magicians need to be more competent than the current crop. The ruling magicians need to be people like, say, Nathaniel.
I love the narrative for neither downplaying his faults nor trying to excuse them (e.g., “he’s only a jackass because he’s so sensitive!”). His vices are such that he’s only intermittently likable, and they’re intertwined with his virtues. But he’s always interesting, and he’s clearly a product of the world he lives in.
Stroud, bless him, has followed his premise - “There are wizards who can summon demons!” - to its logical conclusion: “Obviously they’re going to rule the world. And they’re going to do it badly!” Stroud’s Britain is as rife with violence, back-stabbing, and oppression as a Cold War spy novel. Demonic vigilance spheres spy constantly on the commoners, the members of government eye each other suspiciously, and the threat of death and torture hover like smoke.
But I never felt that Stroud was killing characters to demonstrate that he’s one of the awesomely dark and edgy and gritty cool kids. Dark is a byproduct of the world-building choices he’s made, not the point of the story.
“They’re awesomely awesome!” she said.
“I wrote to the author and he wrote me back and he DREW A BAT on the letter!” she cried.
“And they’re sitting right on my shelf, sparkling iridescently and BEGGING TO BE READ!” she exclaimed, fixing me with a meaning gaze.
Naturally, I didn’t get around to reading them until after graduation.
And boy am I sorry, because we could have had awesomely awesome discussions about the Bartimaeus trilogy. These are excellent books, a brilliant antidote to the SECRET MAGICAL CREATURES syndrome I ranted about yesterday. The plotting is tight, the pacing fast, and the wizards out in the open in a world that is all the more compelling because it’s explicated mainly in throwaway comments. (The story is set in an alternate British Empire, which helps ground the reader.)
But though the setting is exquisitely rendered, it’s the characters who make the books awesome. There’s the eponymous Bartimaeus, of course, whose snarky voice and discursive footnotes lighten the narrative and provide it much of its forward motion. And then there’s Kitty, a member of the Resistance. Stubborn, idealistic, and angry, Kitty provides a necessary counterpoint to both the world’s grimness and Nathaniel’s...Nathaniel-ness.
Though the books are called the Bartimaeus trilogy, it’s really Nathaniel who is the center of the books. Bartimaeus is four thousand years old and not going to change any time soon; Nathaniel is the emotional center of the novel. He’s idealistic, honorable, and brave to the point of foolish heroism - and man, is he an asshole.
He’s not an anti-hero. He’s a hero so imbued with irritating qualities that you occasionally want Bartmaeus to drown him in a bucket. He’s touchy, ambitious, untrustworthy, vain, and even more arrogant than his not-inconsiderable abilities warrant. He believes wholeheartedly in the rightness of rule by magicians, even as he realizes that the current magician government is venial and corrupt.
It’s just that the ruling magicians need to be more competent than the current crop. The ruling magicians need to be people like, say, Nathaniel.
I love the narrative for neither downplaying his faults nor trying to excuse them (e.g., “he’s only a jackass because he’s so sensitive!”). His vices are such that he’s only intermittently likable, and they’re intertwined with his virtues. But he’s always interesting, and he’s clearly a product of the world he lives in.
Stroud, bless him, has followed his premise - “There are wizards who can summon demons!” - to its logical conclusion: “Obviously they’re going to rule the world. And they’re going to do it badly!” Stroud’s Britain is as rife with violence, back-stabbing, and oppression as a Cold War spy novel. Demonic vigilance spheres spy constantly on the commoners, the members of government eye each other suspiciously, and the threat of death and torture hover like smoke.
But I never felt that Stroud was killing characters to demonstrate that he’s one of the awesomely dark and edgy and gritty cool kids. Dark is a byproduct of the world-building choices he’s made, not the point of the story.
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Date: 2012-01-11 03:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 05:03 pm (UTC)I really think the current emphasis on ALL ROMANCE, ALL THE TIME in YA fiction does a disservice to teenagers. There's nothing wrong with romance, but there's clearly an appetite for larger stories too - things like the Thief books, or Bartimaeus, which are about politics and war and the whole big world.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 05:11 pm (UTC)*pants*
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Date: 2012-01-11 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 11:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-12 01:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-12 09:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-13 12:18 am (UTC)