Finished "His Dark Materials"
Jan. 16th, 2008 02:30 pmShould really update properly, shouldn't I?
The first book in the series, Northern Lights (The Golden Compass in the US) was as fabulous as I remember, at least before it hits that theme of "Oh, Lyra's so fabulous, hey, how about that prophecy about her being so fabulous?" It hits on that note so early, so hard and so often that I can't even consider it a spoiler. The plot would have flowed much better had Pullman let events happen without that nonsense, or left off on that talk until much later, when it actually has some relevance.
There was a lot of criticism of the second book, The Subtle Knife, mostly of Will being too good to be true. I don't agree with that sentiment, because it seems to come back to his age--he's serious, he's brave, he's aggressively capable, but at that age! Pshaw, say the critics! I find that a bit condescending, personally. Look at any child who's been forced to be a parent to his own siblings because his own parents are terrifyingly inept, and you'll find that weight-of-the-world seriousness, that terrified independence and determination, and underneath, that dire fear of letting everyone down. If Pullman's made a mistake with Will, it's not in characterization, but in establishing his backstory, which might have had more impact if told in a less fractured way.
I had more problems with Lord Asriel's character and motivations, with the fact that the multitude of worlds were disconnected and only theoretical until he blew the gates open and yet instantly once he has them open, Asriel has a fortress and an army and everyone knows each other, exactly what's going on and which side they're on. Perhaps Pullman meant for there to be a passage of time during which Asriel built up his forces, but if so, he's not told his readers.
Last week (11 Jan) I finished the third and final book, The Amber Spyglass, and it was a disappointment on many levels. By and large it felt as if Pullman had sketched out a lot more plot than he had room for in the trilogy and only realized it at the end of the second book. Pullman had too many balls in the area to pay attention to anything properly, and it felt as if much of the earlier story had been either forgotten in the confusion or pushed through only for lip service. The end of the book works well with the first book, but it is at odds with the rest of this book, and reads as if Pullman wrote the last chapter in advance, knowing where he wanted to go and rushing through outlined plot points until he got to it.
The worst of it, for me, comes back to Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter. Coulter's redemption, on the whole, is unremarkable and too dependent on the idea that maternal instinct conquers all, which is itself suspect. The pair's sudden admiration for their child and their self-sacrifice is completely out of character. If Pullman intends for us to realize that Asriel's actions have always been, in intention at least, altruistic, he does a poor job of it, since he spent so much time establishing both as self-centered power-tripping asshats.
Though their actions are technically in keeping with Asriel's previously established motivation--to kill God and destroy the Kingdom of Heaven--they read as though they're at odds with it. Asriel gets to take down the real power behind the throne, but in reading it feels more as if he just skipped away from the war and from his God assassination to fulfill an authorial fiat. Both know that somehow it's all in Lyra's hands (there's that damn prophecy again), but it's difficult to buy that these assertive, arrogant, type A people would simply step aside and give someone else control.
So much of Pullman's plot grinds up to this and hangs on this, on the sacrifice of the previous generation, on them wrestling the power behind the heavenly throne into the abyss, and yet it's flat and forced.
Thrown in and regrettably underutilized is that notion of God imprisoned. Though Pullman makes it clear that God is not the Creator but just another creature, one scheming enough to carve a mythological niche for himself, he skims over the idea of the dictator grown old and senile and held captive within his own mythos and fortress by an equally ruthless and clever underling. It's there; it's significant; it's glossed over as we follow the bouncing ball to the next plot point.
Also baffling and frustrating, and also a spoiler that I'm not bothering to hide because it irritates me that much: the amber spyglass itself has absolutely nothing to do with anything. It seems to exist in the story just to give it a title to match the rest of the series. One could easily remove it from the story, and everything to do with Dr. Malone and her little National Geographic special subplot, and not only would nothing be lost from the story, but the flow would be improved. Pullman's purpose in inserting the subplot is dubious ("Wait, I haven't paid lip service to evolution and the interconnectedness of life!"), it doesn't seem to connect at all to the mission given to Malone at the end of The Subtle Knife. He spends so much time trying to keep this ball in the air that the rest of the story trips over it.
The final insult is the crippled bittersweet ending. I am a fan of bittersweet endings, from Frodo's departure at the end of The Return of the King to Merriman's departure at the end of Silver on the Tree. Properly done, they're a quick jab in the heart as we go from the satisfaction of the completed quest to the realization that, despite the sacrifices already made, there's still a price to be paid for the lessons learned. Pullman's quest ends half-heartedly, and messily and his ending attempts to jump in before the blood even hits the floor. It throws itself out there and flails around demanding that you be heartbroken for, seriously, I think a fifth of the book. By the time Pullman finally decides to cut it loose, I just don't care anymore.
There are a lot of things I like about the series, but the final book fell far short of the mark and tainted the overall reading experience for me. I may try the book again in half a year to see if it improves on re-reading, since the shape of what should have been (but for terrible editing) is so close to the surface.
The first book in the series, Northern Lights (The Golden Compass in the US) was as fabulous as I remember, at least before it hits that theme of "Oh, Lyra's so fabulous, hey, how about that prophecy about her being so fabulous?" It hits on that note so early, so hard and so often that I can't even consider it a spoiler. The plot would have flowed much better had Pullman let events happen without that nonsense, or left off on that talk until much later, when it actually has some relevance.
There was a lot of criticism of the second book, The Subtle Knife, mostly of Will being too good to be true. I don't agree with that sentiment, because it seems to come back to his age--he's serious, he's brave, he's aggressively capable, but at that age! Pshaw, say the critics! I find that a bit condescending, personally. Look at any child who's been forced to be a parent to his own siblings because his own parents are terrifyingly inept, and you'll find that weight-of-the-world seriousness, that terrified independence and determination, and underneath, that dire fear of letting everyone down. If Pullman's made a mistake with Will, it's not in characterization, but in establishing his backstory, which might have had more impact if told in a less fractured way.
I had more problems with Lord Asriel's character and motivations, with the fact that the multitude of worlds were disconnected and only theoretical until he blew the gates open and yet instantly once he has them open, Asriel has a fortress and an army and everyone knows each other, exactly what's going on and which side they're on. Perhaps Pullman meant for there to be a passage of time during which Asriel built up his forces, but if so, he's not told his readers.
Last week (11 Jan) I finished the third and final book, The Amber Spyglass, and it was a disappointment on many levels. By and large it felt as if Pullman had sketched out a lot more plot than he had room for in the trilogy and only realized it at the end of the second book. Pullman had too many balls in the area to pay attention to anything properly, and it felt as if much of the earlier story had been either forgotten in the confusion or pushed through only for lip service. The end of the book works well with the first book, but it is at odds with the rest of this book, and reads as if Pullman wrote the last chapter in advance, knowing where he wanted to go and rushing through outlined plot points until he got to it.
The worst of it, for me, comes back to Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter. Coulter's redemption, on the whole, is unremarkable and too dependent on the idea that maternal instinct conquers all, which is itself suspect. The pair's sudden admiration for their child and their self-sacrifice is completely out of character. If Pullman intends for us to realize that Asriel's actions have always been, in intention at least, altruistic, he does a poor job of it, since he spent so much time establishing both as self-centered power-tripping asshats.
Though their actions are technically in keeping with Asriel's previously established motivation--to kill God and destroy the Kingdom of Heaven--they read as though they're at odds with it. Asriel gets to take down the real power behind the throne, but in reading it feels more as if he just skipped away from the war and from his God assassination to fulfill an authorial fiat. Both know that somehow it's all in Lyra's hands (there's that damn prophecy again), but it's difficult to buy that these assertive, arrogant, type A people would simply step aside and give someone else control.
So much of Pullman's plot grinds up to this and hangs on this, on the sacrifice of the previous generation, on them wrestling the power behind the heavenly throne into the abyss, and yet it's flat and forced.
Thrown in and regrettably underutilized is that notion of God imprisoned. Though Pullman makes it clear that God is not the Creator but just another creature, one scheming enough to carve a mythological niche for himself, he skims over the idea of the dictator grown old and senile and held captive within his own mythos and fortress by an equally ruthless and clever underling. It's there; it's significant; it's glossed over as we follow the bouncing ball to the next plot point.
Also baffling and frustrating, and also a spoiler that I'm not bothering to hide because it irritates me that much: the amber spyglass itself has absolutely nothing to do with anything. It seems to exist in the story just to give it a title to match the rest of the series. One could easily remove it from the story, and everything to do with Dr. Malone and her little National Geographic special subplot, and not only would nothing be lost from the story, but the flow would be improved. Pullman's purpose in inserting the subplot is dubious ("Wait, I haven't paid lip service to evolution and the interconnectedness of life!"), it doesn't seem to connect at all to the mission given to Malone at the end of The Subtle Knife. He spends so much time trying to keep this ball in the air that the rest of the story trips over it.
The final insult is the crippled bittersweet ending. I am a fan of bittersweet endings, from Frodo's departure at the end of The Return of the King to Merriman's departure at the end of Silver on the Tree. Properly done, they're a quick jab in the heart as we go from the satisfaction of the completed quest to the realization that, despite the sacrifices already made, there's still a price to be paid for the lessons learned. Pullman's quest ends half-heartedly, and messily and his ending attempts to jump in before the blood even hits the floor. It throws itself out there and flails around demanding that you be heartbroken for, seriously, I think a fifth of the book. By the time Pullman finally decides to cut it loose, I just don't care anymore.
There are a lot of things I like about the series, but the final book fell far short of the mark and tainted the overall reading experience for me. I may try the book again in half a year to see if it improves on re-reading, since the shape of what should have been (but for terrible editing) is so close to the surface.