Some accuse fantasy, as a genre, of being too black and white, and Green Rider isn't about to change that. It's a tale of the virtuous against the vicious; a plucky young girl, a good and idealistic king and his loyal, courageous servants, against a soul-eating, monster loosing sorcerer, the king's selfish, sadistic brother, a gout ridden misogynist warlord and their drone-like soldiers. Karigan is a largely likable protagonist; if anything, too likable. An instant hit with anyone who isn't a complete and unmitigated villain, her path is largely untroubled by misunderstandings and even her sudden and unannounced mystical appearance in the throne room is soon glossed over. Very few characters are more than what they seem (two, I think) and the plot is pretty much a to b with detours at c, d and mortal peril at e.
Green Rider isn't a terrible book, and there are some interesting bits of world-building, but overall it lacks nuance and too much of Karigan's success is due to chance rather than wit or skill, despite establishing her as a capable fighter and survivor. It would have been good to see her working things out rather than being handed them in a machina.
Also, cream in tea. What the hell is wrong with you people?
Ellen Archer is a very capable reader, although I found it an odd choice to slip from narration in her slightly transatlantic New York accent to present the characters in faux-British of various stripes. Where is it written that fantasy belongs to Europe?
I sound really damning, and that's probably not fair, but I find I'm always less forgiving of a near miss than a total disaster.
No comments:
Post a Comment