Bartimaeus and the Ring of Solomon Jonathan Stroud, 2010, Doubleday [Random House], 403 pages, paperback, NZ$36.99
ISBN 978 0 385 61916 5
Bartimaeus is back. Or, rather he’s before. When the Bartimeus trilogy ended with young Nathan the political kid-wizard joining forces (quite literally) with Bartimaeus of Uruk, his djinni servant, it was a terrible loss to fantasy literature.
Fortunately Jonathan Stroud has taken Bartimaeus at his word and allowed him to tell us the often-hinted-at story of his days with King Solomon. It is a prequel (ghastly word) that stands alone as a comic monument to recalcitrant spirits and their struggles with the bloody-minded magicians who try to enslave them. As always Bartimaeus lards his narrative with his distinctively acid wit. “Impartial observation liberally spiced with sarcasm and personal abuse,” he calls it. Then there are his footnotes – each one a comic gem.
According to Bartimaeus – and who would doubt his word? - King Solomon not only has a ring that can command the mightiest powers, but he also has 17 of the world’s finest magicians serving him. Each magician has a nasty collection of afrits, imps, foliots, djinn, spirits and marids under their command, all of them locked in a snarling web of intrigue and enchantment.
Bartimaeus’s current master, the magician Khaba the Cruel, is using the djinni to help build Solomon’s temple, but a new task arises when the Queen of Sheba rejects Solomon’s diplomacy. Asmira, a lively young female assassin, with sharp attitudes and sharper knives, is dispatched to kill Solomon, while Bartimaeus, as always, is seeking ways to turn events to his advantage. The result is a hilariously funny satire of magical fantasy sagas, with plenty of triple- and quadruple-crossing. Asmira is a character who we’d all like to meet again, and Bartimaeus in his youth (well, second millennium) is as much savage fun as ever.
Stroud has done two good things here. He has produced a prequel that is even better than the original trilogy, and he has found a way to produce many more future (mis)adventures for Bartimaeus.
Trevor Agnew
Showing posts with label Jonathan Stroud. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jonathan Stroud. Show all posts
Thursday, 25 November 2010
Saturday, 29 March 2008
The Last Siege
The Last Siege Jonathan Stroud, Corgi, 262pp, pb, $16.95
ISBN 0-552-55146-5 [NZ agents: Random House]
When three resentful teenagers unexpectedly meet up in the snowbound ruins of a medieval castle, the reader expects fantasy, especially from the author of The Amulet of Samarkand. Instead, Stroud lets his lonely trio act out their own fantasies.
Spurred on by Marcus’s enthusiasm for the castle’s past, Emily and Simon help him to capture it and hold it against imaginary enemies. When the police arrive, it becomes clear that Marcus has not been telling the truth and both Simon and Emily have to make painful decisions. A gripping novel, with interesting characterisation.
This review by Trevor Agnew was first published in The Press, Christchurch, on 25th September 2004.
ISBN 0-552-55146-5 [NZ agents: Random House]
When three resentful teenagers unexpectedly meet up in the snowbound ruins of a medieval castle, the reader expects fantasy, especially from the author of The Amulet of Samarkand. Instead, Stroud lets his lonely trio act out their own fantasies.
Spurred on by Marcus’s enthusiasm for the castle’s past, Emily and Simon help him to capture it and hold it against imaginary enemies. When the police arrive, it becomes clear that Marcus has not been telling the truth and both Simon and Emily have to make painful decisions. A gripping novel, with interesting characterisation.
This review by Trevor Agnew was first published in The Press, Christchurch, on 25th September 2004.
Friday, 21 March 2008
Ptolemy's Gate
PTOLEMY’S GATE (Bartimaeus Trilogy, Volume 3) Jonathan Stroud, 2005, Doubleday, 515 pages, hardback NZ$45.00; Trade paperback NZ$29.95
ISBN 0-385-60616-8
[NZ agents: Random House Publication date: 21 Oct 2005]
Volume 3 of the Bartimaeus trilogy shows a remarkable reversal of fortunes. Young Nathan, once the nervous apprentice magician, is now the powerful Minister of Information in Rupert Deveraux’s government. Bartimaeus, his djinni servant (who rubbed shoulders with Solomon and gave footnotes to Faustus), is now so lacking in supernatural powers that he is trapped when a mere public toilet falls upon him. In Stroud’s dowdy dystopia of enchantment and empire, Britain is deadlocked in Europe and unable to budge the American rebels, while such resistance figures as Kitty Jones are gaining access to unexpected powers. Some have suggested that this very funny romp is more than just a glancing blow at Harry Potter; it is also an attack on Tony Blair’s spin-doctored administration, using kid wizards instead of whiz-kids. In that case, the identity of pompous playwright Quentin Makepeace, who turns the Prime Minister’s life into a musical, should be easy to decipher. Meanwhile Nathan and Bartimaeus are forced to join forces (quite literally) for a dazzling climax, which still leaves scope for a story of Kitty’s future set in this very entertaining universe.
Trevor Agnew
This review was first published in The Press, Christchurch, New Zealand on 16th December 2005.
ISBN 0-385-60616-8
[NZ agents: Random House Publication date: 21 Oct 2005]
Volume 3 of the Bartimaeus trilogy shows a remarkable reversal of fortunes. Young Nathan, once the nervous apprentice magician, is now the powerful Minister of Information in Rupert Deveraux’s government. Bartimaeus, his djinni servant (who rubbed shoulders with Solomon and gave footnotes to Faustus), is now so lacking in supernatural powers that he is trapped when a mere public toilet falls upon him. In Stroud’s dowdy dystopia of enchantment and empire, Britain is deadlocked in Europe and unable to budge the American rebels, while such resistance figures as Kitty Jones are gaining access to unexpected powers. Some have suggested that this very funny romp is more than just a glancing blow at Harry Potter; it is also an attack on Tony Blair’s spin-doctored administration, using kid wizards instead of whiz-kids. In that case, the identity of pompous playwright Quentin Makepeace, who turns the Prime Minister’s life into a musical, should be easy to decipher. Meanwhile Nathan and Bartimaeus are forced to join forces (quite literally) for a dazzling climax, which still leaves scope for a story of Kitty’s future set in this very entertaining universe.
Trevor Agnew
This review was first published in The Press, Christchurch, New Zealand on 16th December 2005.
Saturday, 18 November 2006
The Amulet of Samarkand, Jonathan Stroud, 2003
THE AMULET OF SAMARKAND Jonathan Stroud, Doubleday UK [Random House NZ] 2003, 480 pages, paperback, NZ$29.95. ISBN 0385-605994.
Bartimaeus Rules OK
Hmm. A twelve year old be-spectacled boy training to be a magician? Common factors are certainly present but this is a book to compare with the best of Diana Wynn Jones rather than J.K. Rowling. Aimed at older teenagers, The Amulet of Samarkand is a crossover fantasy novel which will appeal to all adults who like a well-told story with lively characters
Jonathan Stroud takes a very bleak view of magicians, developing Terry Pratchett’s theme of their mutual hostility to its logical conclusion: an alternative version of our world, where magicians form the arrogant ruling class and commoners resent them. “Magicians are the most conniving, jealous, duplicitous group of people on earth, even including lawyers and academics.” In Westminster all cabinet ministers are magicians and, although a conflict with the magicians of Prague has reached an uneasy cold-war truce, the anti-magician resistance movement carries out regular attacks in London.
Skilful magicians gain much of their influence by enslaving djinn and making use of their powers. Bartimaeus is a five thousand year old djinni with a proud record, “I am Bartimaeus! I am Sakhr al-Jinni, N’gorso the Mighty and the Serpent of Silver Plumes! I have rebuilt the walls of Uruk, Karnak and Prague. I have spoken with Solomon…” He is also a skilled shape-changer, immensely cynical, totally amoral and great fun to be with, if you don’t have to share a sealed Stricture with him. (Nathaniel, of course, has no choice.) The parallel with Faust is lightly underscored, but this novel is full of unexpected delights.
The construction is particularly satisfying. The standard third-person account of Nathaniel’s miserable early life as an apprentice, (which makes it clear why magicians are so heartless and unfeeling) is skilfully interwoven with Bartimaeus’s first-person account of how he was entrapped by talented young Nathaniel and forced to carry out his nervous commands. These two narratives move towards each other in time, uniting in an exciting climax, where the unlikely pair perform truly heroic (and sometimes very funny) deeds.
Humour might seem unexpected in such a grim story, but Bartimaeus enjoys telling his human readers how clever he is and he can’t resist showing off with his little asides and footnotes. After that introductory speech, Bartimaeus adds “Impressive stuff, eh?” When he materialises in Nathaniel’s pentacle as a bubbling column of sulphurous smoke with two yellow staring eyes, he explains, “Hey, it was his first time. I wanted to scare him. And I did too.”
Torn away from his family at five, and raised by an unfeeling magician, Nathaniel has every reason to be bitter but he also has something close to a conscience and his naivety is appealing. In these A.H.P. days (after Harry Potter) it is difficult for fantasy writers to be unaffected by the spectacled one, but Stroud has his own way of coping. Nathaniel wears horn-rimmed glasses in order to see imps, while Bartimaeus notes acerbically that although incompetent magicians cultivate huge beards and long hair, “the really powerful magicians take pleasure in looking like accountants”. There is no room for Hogwarts in this alternate universe. Each magician trains a single apprentice, so Bartimaeus snorts at the idea of apprentices “being bussed off to boarding school together - hardly likely”.
Magicians are sexists. There are only a few female magicians but there is a magnificent young lady – think of Hermione when she hits her stride – who appears only briefly but is sure of a key role in the second volume. For the good news is that Bartimaeus will surely be summoned again. The Amulet of Samarkand is the first volume of a trilogy based on his adventures.
Trevor Agnew
First published in The Press, Christchurch, New Zealand on October 18th 2003.
Bartimaeus Rules OK
Hmm. A twelve year old be-spectacled boy training to be a magician? Common factors are certainly present but this is a book to compare with the best of Diana Wynn Jones rather than J.K. Rowling. Aimed at older teenagers, The Amulet of Samarkand is a crossover fantasy novel which will appeal to all adults who like a well-told story with lively characters
Jonathan Stroud takes a very bleak view of magicians, developing Terry Pratchett’s theme of their mutual hostility to its logical conclusion: an alternative version of our world, where magicians form the arrogant ruling class and commoners resent them. “Magicians are the most conniving, jealous, duplicitous group of people on earth, even including lawyers and academics.” In Westminster all cabinet ministers are magicians and, although a conflict with the magicians of Prague has reached an uneasy cold-war truce, the anti-magician resistance movement carries out regular attacks in London.
Skilful magicians gain much of their influence by enslaving djinn and making use of their powers. Bartimaeus is a five thousand year old djinni with a proud record, “I am Bartimaeus! I am Sakhr al-Jinni, N’gorso the Mighty and the Serpent of Silver Plumes! I have rebuilt the walls of Uruk, Karnak and Prague. I have spoken with Solomon…” He is also a skilled shape-changer, immensely cynical, totally amoral and great fun to be with, if you don’t have to share a sealed Stricture with him. (Nathaniel, of course, has no choice.) The parallel with Faust is lightly underscored, but this novel is full of unexpected delights.
The construction is particularly satisfying. The standard third-person account of Nathaniel’s miserable early life as an apprentice, (which makes it clear why magicians are so heartless and unfeeling) is skilfully interwoven with Bartimaeus’s first-person account of how he was entrapped by talented young Nathaniel and forced to carry out his nervous commands. These two narratives move towards each other in time, uniting in an exciting climax, where the unlikely pair perform truly heroic (and sometimes very funny) deeds.
Humour might seem unexpected in such a grim story, but Bartimaeus enjoys telling his human readers how clever he is and he can’t resist showing off with his little asides and footnotes. After that introductory speech, Bartimaeus adds “Impressive stuff, eh?” When he materialises in Nathaniel’s pentacle as a bubbling column of sulphurous smoke with two yellow staring eyes, he explains, “Hey, it was his first time. I wanted to scare him. And I did too.”
Torn away from his family at five, and raised by an unfeeling magician, Nathaniel has every reason to be bitter but he also has something close to a conscience and his naivety is appealing. In these A.H.P. days (after Harry Potter) it is difficult for fantasy writers to be unaffected by the spectacled one, but Stroud has his own way of coping. Nathaniel wears horn-rimmed glasses in order to see imps, while Bartimaeus notes acerbically that although incompetent magicians cultivate huge beards and long hair, “the really powerful magicians take pleasure in looking like accountants”. There is no room for Hogwarts in this alternate universe. Each magician trains a single apprentice, so Bartimaeus snorts at the idea of apprentices “being bussed off to boarding school together - hardly likely”.
Magicians are sexists. There are only a few female magicians but there is a magnificent young lady – think of Hermione when she hits her stride – who appears only briefly but is sure of a key role in the second volume. For the good news is that Bartimaeus will surely be summoned again. The Amulet of Samarkand is the first volume of a trilogy based on his adventures.
Trevor Agnew
First published in The Press, Christchurch, New Zealand on October 18th 2003.
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