Thursday, July 31, 2008
Honestly, I never intended to write this post, but the reading of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy was so painful, I found I couldn't move on to writing other reviews without blowing some hot air in his general direction.
I think a summary of the plot is rather unnecessary. This was a pretty well known series even before it hit mainstream with the making of the film The Golden Compass, which is of course based off the first book in the trilogy, of the same title. A book which I did enjoy. I found it to be a fun, imaginative, gripping tale. I liked Pullman's execution in setting up and fleshening out his alternate-reality Oxford. It was fantasy that wasn't utterly out-of-this-world, but that still retained a certain foreign flavor. I liked his development of the protagonist, Lyra, and the cast of characters that surrounds her. I enjoyed the pacing and the basic plot. And even though his dialogue tends to run on the awkward side, I found the book to be well written overall, with a sort of snarky edge to it that was entertaining. I enjoyed it on the whole and looked forward to the sequel.
And then I actually read the sequel (The Subtle Knife), and I almost lost all interest in reading the final installment. Here's why:
Will, the second protagonist introduced to the series, is possibly the most stale, insipid, Gary-Stue character that I have encountered in a very, very long time. For those who are possibly less nerdy than me, and need some clarification as to what a "Gary-Stue" is, I'll tell you. A "Gary-Stue" is the male version of a "Mary-Sue," a title given to characters who are as one-dimensional as it gets -- characters who are too perfect to be believable, with absolutely no character flaws besides a few token quirks to make them seem human; characters whose innate goodness and bravery enables them to inevitably overcome all the odds and obsticles thrown at them throughout the story; characters whose motives for getting embroiled in the plot are always righteous, and even if they should perhaps make some fatal error in judgement in the heat of a plot-charged moment (in the author's pathetic attempt at trying to create the illusion of a character with depth), well, that error is always completely justified given the extenuating circumstances and is in no way to be held against them.
Will is the perfect example of a Gary-Stue (right up there with Scott Summers and Jean Gray from X-Men). He's the pure, noble, socially outcast boy who's only trying to protect his ailing mother and find his MIA father.
He is, in a word, boring. Boring and horrendously under-developed. Lyra, at least, was interesting. She had character flaws, she didn't always make smart choices, and there were passages where I wasn't even certain how much I liked her anymore. But those flaws made her human. They fleshened her out. And even in the midst of them, there was something about her that was charming and relatable. Will, on the other hand, is flat and stoic and in no way reminiscent of the twelve-year old boy he's supposed to be. And the worst part? He essentially replaces Lyra as the protagonist.
Aside from this character malfunctioning, The Subtle Knife put me off more slightly in its blatant and often overpowering anti-church themes. While these themes were also evident in the first book, they didn't particularly bother me because they were themes that were a natural progression of the plot. They were essential to the integrity of the story. Something would have felt off had they not been there. And besides that, they were at least a bit more understated and subtle. The second book takes all that understatement and magnifies it to a point that almost compromises the story in an effort to push forward and be heard. Pullman's skill as a recantour is what saved him, because while all this was vaguely irritating, the story was interesting enough that I picked up the final book, The Amber Spyglass, in order to see how it all turned out.
If The Subtle Knife pushed Pullman's anti-church sentiment out of the understated end of the pool, the final book in the trilogy shoves it right into the "in the name of all things holy, I GET YOUR FREAKING POINT ALREADY" end. It moves from subtle, to blatant, to bashing you over the head with its insistence. It becomes more of a nuisance and a distraction from the plot than a natural evolution of it. THAT is why it's so incredibly annoying. My irritation with the series does not merely stem from the fact that I'm a Christian and Pullman is essentially dumping all over my personal beliefs. I would be lying if I said that my Christianity wasn't influencing my opinion at all, because it surely does. But my irritation stems more from artistic grounds than from religious. As a reader and an (admittedly) amateur writer, I felt that the anti-church themes were overridng the plot. It was interfering with it rather than aiding it.
Before I go on, I want to clarify: no, I don't think there's anything wrong with infusing a message, or a question, or a philosophical idea into a story. In fact, I think many of the best books do. But what those "best books" did that The Amber Spyglass didn't was to infuse those philosophical ideas gracefully as an over-arching theme. Rather than manipulating the story at every turn in order to maximize (yet again) the apperance and impact of the message, the "best books" allow that message to naturally evolve with the story -- they allow it to become the fruit of the plot. The Amber Spyglass (and much of The Subtle Knife) seemed to me to do the former rather than the latter.
The Golden Compass is a good example of allowing personal politics and philosophical ideas to guide a story without it becoming overpowering. Pullman's anti-church-ness was certainly there, but not to the point of being a distraction from the unfolding of the story. The Amber Spyglass, however, is exactly the opposite. The author's tool in telling a story with a philosophical gem became his soap box, and it was not something I particularly cared to have shoved down my throat.
(Subltety, Mr. Pullman, subltety. It works wonders. Put some trust in the intelligence of your readers and their ability to pick up on your ideas.)
As I said, Pullman can definitely write prose. The series was imaginative if nothing else, and there were parts peppered throughout that I enjoyed. But his choice in a male protagonist needs a major overhaul, and his story fell victim to his politics.
I think a summary of the plot is rather unnecessary. This was a pretty well known series even before it hit mainstream with the making of the film The Golden Compass, which is of course based off the first book in the trilogy, of the same title. A book which I did enjoy. I found it to be a fun, imaginative, gripping tale. I liked Pullman's execution in setting up and fleshening out his alternate-reality Oxford. It was fantasy that wasn't utterly out-of-this-world, but that still retained a certain foreign flavor. I liked his development of the protagonist, Lyra, and the cast of characters that surrounds her. I enjoyed the pacing and the basic plot. And even though his dialogue tends to run on the awkward side, I found the book to be well written overall, with a sort of snarky edge to it that was entertaining. I enjoyed it on the whole and looked forward to the sequel.
And then I actually read the sequel (The Subtle Knife), and I almost lost all interest in reading the final installment. Here's why:
Will, the second protagonist introduced to the series, is possibly the most stale, insipid, Gary-Stue character that I have encountered in a very, very long time. For those who are possibly less nerdy than me, and need some clarification as to what a "Gary-Stue" is, I'll tell you. A "Gary-Stue" is the male version of a "Mary-Sue," a title given to characters who are as one-dimensional as it gets -- characters who are too perfect to be believable, with absolutely no character flaws besides a few token quirks to make them seem human; characters whose innate goodness and bravery enables them to inevitably overcome all the odds and obsticles thrown at them throughout the story; characters whose motives for getting embroiled in the plot are always righteous, and even if they should perhaps make some fatal error in judgement in the heat of a plot-charged moment (in the author's pathetic attempt at trying to create the illusion of a character with depth), well, that error is always completely justified given the extenuating circumstances and is in no way to be held against them.
Will is the perfect example of a Gary-Stue (right up there with Scott Summers and Jean Gray from X-Men). He's the pure, noble, socially outcast boy who's only trying to protect his ailing mother and find his MIA father.
He is, in a word, boring. Boring and horrendously under-developed. Lyra, at least, was interesting. She had character flaws, she didn't always make smart choices, and there were passages where I wasn't even certain how much I liked her anymore. But those flaws made her human. They fleshened her out. And even in the midst of them, there was something about her that was charming and relatable. Will, on the other hand, is flat and stoic and in no way reminiscent of the twelve-year old boy he's supposed to be. And the worst part? He essentially replaces Lyra as the protagonist.
Aside from this character malfunctioning, The Subtle Knife put me off more slightly in its blatant and often overpowering anti-church themes. While these themes were also evident in the first book, they didn't particularly bother me because they were themes that were a natural progression of the plot. They were essential to the integrity of the story. Something would have felt off had they not been there. And besides that, they were at least a bit more understated and subtle. The second book takes all that understatement and magnifies it to a point that almost compromises the story in an effort to push forward and be heard. Pullman's skill as a recantour is what saved him, because while all this was vaguely irritating, the story was interesting enough that I picked up the final book, The Amber Spyglass, in order to see how it all turned out.
If The Subtle Knife pushed Pullman's anti-church sentiment out of the understated end of the pool, the final book in the trilogy shoves it right into the "in the name of all things holy, I GET YOUR FREAKING POINT ALREADY" end. It moves from subtle, to blatant, to bashing you over the head with its insistence. It becomes more of a nuisance and a distraction from the plot than a natural evolution of it. THAT is why it's so incredibly annoying. My irritation with the series does not merely stem from the fact that I'm a Christian and Pullman is essentially dumping all over my personal beliefs. I would be lying if I said that my Christianity wasn't influencing my opinion at all, because it surely does. But my irritation stems more from artistic grounds than from religious. As a reader and an (admittedly) amateur writer, I felt that the anti-church themes were overridng the plot. It was interfering with it rather than aiding it.
Before I go on, I want to clarify: no, I don't think there's anything wrong with infusing a message, or a question, or a philosophical idea into a story. In fact, I think many of the best books do. But what those "best books" did that The Amber Spyglass didn't was to infuse those philosophical ideas gracefully as an over-arching theme. Rather than manipulating the story at every turn in order to maximize (yet again) the apperance and impact of the message, the "best books" allow that message to naturally evolve with the story -- they allow it to become the fruit of the plot. The Amber Spyglass (and much of The Subtle Knife) seemed to me to do the former rather than the latter.
The Golden Compass is a good example of allowing personal politics and philosophical ideas to guide a story without it becoming overpowering. Pullman's anti-church-ness was certainly there, but not to the point of being a distraction from the unfolding of the story. The Amber Spyglass, however, is exactly the opposite. The author's tool in telling a story with a philosophical gem became his soap box, and it was not something I particularly cared to have shoved down my throat.
(Subltety, Mr. Pullman, subltety. It works wonders. Put some trust in the intelligence of your readers and their ability to pick up on your ideas.)
As I said, Pullman can definitely write prose. The series was imaginative if nothing else, and there were parts peppered throughout that I enjoyed. But his choice in a male protagonist needs a major overhaul, and his story fell victim to his politics.
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