The Magicians

It's hard to know where to start with a book like Lev Grossman's The Magicians. I have never read a book that has given me such mixed feelings. And by mixed feelings, I don't mean “meh, it was ok”. I mean parts of it were absolutely brilliant, so brilliant that I find the main character Quentin is still hanging around in my head. And parts of it made me so mad that I wanted to put the book down and never pick it up again.

The people and relationships that Grossman describes are probably the most realistic I've ever seen in the context of a fantasy novel. The main character, Quentin, is moody, depressed, selfish, and a genius who gets to fulfill the average fantasy reader's greatest dream: Attending a school for magic in place of a normal college. Make no mistake, this is no harry potter tale, because the twist (which isn't really a spoiler to anyone who is old enough to have graduated from college) is that even though his most secret and unrealistic dream comes true, Quentin is still depressed moody and selfish thereby exposing the myth that circumstances can dictate long term happiness.

Grossman subverts the standard “going to magic school for training” narrative in a way that can only be compared to what Alan Moor to does to the standard super hero narrative in The Watchmen. That is, Grossman flips it on its head a tells it in a way that fulfills a lot of the tropes associated with the narrative but because Quentin is so very opposite of Harry Potter a weird upside down sort of tale forms that in the end feels way more realistic. Quentin finds all the magic he could possibly dream of, and it still he can't be happy, or not for long, then he finds his way into the secondary fantasy world he has always dreamed of, and after the shine wears off he is still not happy, not fulfilled, feels a lack of purpose. The hero is supposed to live happily ever after, not get everything he/she ever wanted and then be unsatisfied. It is made even worse from the reader's perspective because you can see the real, meaningful things in his life that Quentin just cannot, or will not, recognize. The unwritten refrain in Quentin's head through the whole novel is “this is not how the story is supposed to go” so he continues searching, thinking there has to be more somehow, somewhere there must be a place where the world is not screwed up, or where Quentin has not screwed it up himself. But by waiting and hoping for that single non-existent something, everything else slips quietly away from him in a bleary haze of booze, and self-pity.

There are a number of brilliant scenes interspersed throughout the novel that show just how deep Quentin's issues go. These scenes, most times, depict Quentin catching one of his friends or acquaintances in their own moments of quiet despair, wrapped in their own self centric narratives. But Quentin is so inwardly focused that he cannot see it. It would force him to recognize that he is not the center of every story. I think these few scenes carry an extra emotional punch because other than this, they seem to have no purpose in the book whatsoever. And so the reader reacts in the same way Quentin reacts, with a little bit of confusion and a lack of understanding, until of course, unlike Quentin, the reader does eventually understand if they are paying attention.
This strikes a number of personal chords with me, and maybe that is why I think this novel is so brilliant. I could almost forgive any writerly sin (and there a few in this book) for the unexpected vitality, and sheer weight and realness of the characters. However, I am not sure I can forgive him for the simple, unsubtle way he has ripped out some major chunks of The Chronicles of Narnia's world and to a lesser extent the Harry Potter universe and plunked them down in his story barely altered. I won't go into too much detail here, but basically Brakebills is the same as Hogwarts with less of a sense of wonder about it, and Fillory basically is Narnia. I would say Fillory is Narnia, but darker, however I think the actual Narnia can be pretty dark on its own in places.

In speculative fiction, it is an often used practice to pull bits and pieces of setting or world building from The Greats and twist them around a little bit before use by an author in a new story. This is fine because usually you can sense that the authors have treated the source material with reverence, and by doing so treats the fandom with respect as well. This comes off to the average genre reader as a nod of respect and gratitude to “those who have gone before”. I can't count how many times I have found references to Kurt Vonnegut, or Harlan Ellison, or any of a hundred other men and women who have made genre what it is today, hidden in some new book that I have recently picked up. And I love it when I find those Easter eggs. It gives me sense of belonging in a way.

I say all of this I guess because if giving a nod to Harry Potter and Narnia is what Grossman did, I would have been absolutely fine with it. Instead, especially with Narnia, Grossman made a blatant copy of it. Right down to the “in between” place as a stopping point on the way to “Fillory”, and only two girls and two boys from our world can be kings and queens of “Fillory”. Fillory just feels very irreverent to the original Narnia, and for some reason makes me feel very protective of the original. I get what Grossman is doing, at least I think I do: If you went to Narnia, it wouldn't be at all the way you imagined it would be. However, I feel that he could have shown this just as easily by making up a world that diverged from Narnia in a significant way.

Anyway, in summary: It's easy for me to see why most of the reviews for this book are either five stars or one star. I am on the fence as well, but I think that in the end, Grossman's skill as a writer wins out.