A Discovery of Fails
You may have heard the hype about A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness. If you did, I hope you also heard it's "a grown-up Twilight," and run screaming already. I was not smart enough to read the reviews before I picked it up, and so I have suffered, that you may avoid it like the plague.
A Discovery of Witches takes place in a world where there are vampires, demons, and witches. Vampires are pretty much like in lore, only not scary and they can walk around in daylight. Oh, and sometimes they "glow." Witches can use magic, but they have normal human lifetimes, unless they're ghosts, and then they haunt their descendants in weird ways that aren't really explained. Demons are shafted, in that their power is they're more creative and/or smart than most humans, but not in magical ways.
Diana Bishop, our narrator, is a witch who doesn't use her powers except when it's really convenient. (It later turns out, in a Major Plot Point, that she's been using them without realizing it, because she's That Powerful.) She's doing research on alchemy in a library at Oxford, and she calls out an old manuscript that has a spell on it. She sends it back to the stacks, and, the next day, there's a vampire watching her in the library. He wants the book, but she doesn't have it.
If only that were the last of Matthew. But, no. He's the designated love interest of the story, and it all goes downhill from there. Because they're Destined To Be Together No Matter What Stands In Their Way. Even though all they have in common is that manuscript, and yoga. They spend the rest of the book infodumping between making goo-goo eyes at each other. He studies genetics, you see, and so he's traced the genetic component of "creatures," which is what they call demons, witches, and vampires in the book. So there's an explanation of where powers come from. It's SCIENCE!
Which is about where the book lost me, and I started making faces at my CD player right about then. If that were the book's biggest sin, though, I might have overlooked it. I even tried to.
But, alas. The book is also written in this really overwrought style, where the character can't open a damn door without describing the worn spots where hundreds of fingers have gripped the brass. She can't change clothes without describing everything she puts on, excepting her underwear. She can't eat a meal without describing every single crumb in excruciating detail. The weirdest description, though, goes to the two times her hair is described as "rainbow-colored strands," after her hair has been established as a light auburn.
At first, I thought perhaps the bogged-down description was there to create atmosphere and tension. That would work, if anything else happened, plot-wise. Instead, I listened to numerous tension-building, atmospheric passages, only to hear the tension deflate as Diana makes more goo-goo eyes at Matthew, or marvels at how awesome it is that he knew every historical figure, ever (he has a signed copy of On the Origin of Species with a personal note of thanks for believing in him from Mr. Darwin), or she starts a fight with Matthew to prove what a Strong Character she is.
Which brings me around to the most annoying part of this book. We're told, through dialogue mostly, what a strong, independent, powerful character Diana is. Matthew even says to her that she's no damsel in distress. But then he treats her like a damsel in distress! He spends about half the book carrying her around and fretting she's going to be damaged.
Matthew, himself, is apparently the consummate gentleman, honorable and upright and admirable and handsome. But then he loses his temper constantly, and throws fits about Diana not letting him protect her. That's when he isn't warning her how dangerous he is, and she should stay away, and he's a monstrous killer. And yet, when he gets the chance to prove just how tough he is, he very nearly dies, and I very nearly cheered. Chapters filled with Diana's moping would've been far more preferable to being subjected to that flat, passionless romance.
They don't even have sex. Supposedly, they're married (he kisses her a certain way and says he loves her, and that's it, apparently). But he keeps talking about how they have all the time in the world. Meanwhile, there's this council of three witches, three demons, and three vampires who forbid their luv. But no, all the time in the world. It's not like they're going to almost kill him, or anything.
Speaking of that council, you'd think that might make for interesting reading. They're supposedly powerful and have far-reaching resources. And yet, off Diana and Matthew go to the house where Diana grew up. Guess how long it takes for a council member to send someone after them. I actually don't know, because it's really hard to keep track of time in that book, but it's in the range of weeks. Diana and friends are busy playing Scrabble and muttering about maybe making plans, or something. Then they're shocked - shocked! - when someone comes looking for them. And, when they kill that vampire, guess how many come to follow up and find out what happened?
If you guessed none, good job. I kept expecting the ending to be this big encounter with all the big bads introduced this book. Instead, they time travel to 1590, so they can hang out with Christopher Marlowe, who has a huge crush on Matthew. Of course.
Don't believe the hype that says this book is well-researched. Harkness may well have done her homework, but then she crammed in every little detail she found, turning what could've been an interesting book about supernaturals into a gigantic mess of infodump.
Ignore anything you read, too, about cool plot twists in this book. There were, indeed, elements that came in out of the blue. The house Diana grew up in is haunted. She had a twin brother, who she absorbed in utero. She can become pregnant by a vampire because she's so special. All of these show up out of nowhere, and all the characters make a big fuss of these cool revelations. Me, I felt like I was playing pretend with my five-year-old cousin. "And then there was a dinosaur!" Yeah, kid, sure.
So, as you can tell, I was unimpressed. Had I been reading a paper copy of this book, there would be a dent on my wall from my flinging it as hard as I could, and I wouldn't have finished it. As it was, I needed something to listen to while I drove around. Couldn't possibly be a waste of time if it was time I was already wasting, right?
WRONG.
A Discovery of Witches takes place in a world where there are vampires, demons, and witches. Vampires are pretty much like in lore, only not scary and they can walk around in daylight. Oh, and sometimes they "glow." Witches can use magic, but they have normal human lifetimes, unless they're ghosts, and then they haunt their descendants in weird ways that aren't really explained. Demons are shafted, in that their power is they're more creative and/or smart than most humans, but not in magical ways.
Diana Bishop, our narrator, is a witch who doesn't use her powers except when it's really convenient. (It later turns out, in a Major Plot Point, that she's been using them without realizing it, because she's That Powerful.) She's doing research on alchemy in a library at Oxford, and she calls out an old manuscript that has a spell on it. She sends it back to the stacks, and, the next day, there's a vampire watching her in the library. He wants the book, but she doesn't have it.
If only that were the last of Matthew. But, no. He's the designated love interest of the story, and it all goes downhill from there. Because they're Destined To Be Together No Matter What Stands In Their Way. Even though all they have in common is that manuscript, and yoga. They spend the rest of the book infodumping between making goo-goo eyes at each other. He studies genetics, you see, and so he's traced the genetic component of "creatures," which is what they call demons, witches, and vampires in the book. So there's an explanation of where powers come from. It's SCIENCE!
Which is about where the book lost me, and I started making faces at my CD player right about then. If that were the book's biggest sin, though, I might have overlooked it. I even tried to.
But, alas. The book is also written in this really overwrought style, where the character can't open a damn door without describing the worn spots where hundreds of fingers have gripped the brass. She can't change clothes without describing everything she puts on, excepting her underwear. She can't eat a meal without describing every single crumb in excruciating detail. The weirdest description, though, goes to the two times her hair is described as "rainbow-colored strands," after her hair has been established as a light auburn.
At first, I thought perhaps the bogged-down description was there to create atmosphere and tension. That would work, if anything else happened, plot-wise. Instead, I listened to numerous tension-building, atmospheric passages, only to hear the tension deflate as Diana makes more goo-goo eyes at Matthew, or marvels at how awesome it is that he knew every historical figure, ever (he has a signed copy of On the Origin of Species with a personal note of thanks for believing in him from Mr. Darwin), or she starts a fight with Matthew to prove what a Strong Character she is.
Which brings me around to the most annoying part of this book. We're told, through dialogue mostly, what a strong, independent, powerful character Diana is. Matthew even says to her that she's no damsel in distress. But then he treats her like a damsel in distress! He spends about half the book carrying her around and fretting she's going to be damaged.
Matthew, himself, is apparently the consummate gentleman, honorable and upright and admirable and handsome. But then he loses his temper constantly, and throws fits about Diana not letting him protect her. That's when he isn't warning her how dangerous he is, and she should stay away, and he's a monstrous killer. And yet, when he gets the chance to prove just how tough he is, he very nearly dies, and I very nearly cheered. Chapters filled with Diana's moping would've been far more preferable to being subjected to that flat, passionless romance.
They don't even have sex. Supposedly, they're married (he kisses her a certain way and says he loves her, and that's it, apparently). But he keeps talking about how they have all the time in the world. Meanwhile, there's this council of three witches, three demons, and three vampires who forbid their luv. But no, all the time in the world. It's not like they're going to almost kill him, or anything.
Speaking of that council, you'd think that might make for interesting reading. They're supposedly powerful and have far-reaching resources. And yet, off Diana and Matthew go to the house where Diana grew up. Guess how long it takes for a council member to send someone after them. I actually don't know, because it's really hard to keep track of time in that book, but it's in the range of weeks. Diana and friends are busy playing Scrabble and muttering about maybe making plans, or something. Then they're shocked - shocked! - when someone comes looking for them. And, when they kill that vampire, guess how many come to follow up and find out what happened?
If you guessed none, good job. I kept expecting the ending to be this big encounter with all the big bads introduced this book. Instead, they time travel to 1590, so they can hang out with Christopher Marlowe, who has a huge crush on Matthew. Of course.
Don't believe the hype that says this book is well-researched. Harkness may well have done her homework, but then she crammed in every little detail she found, turning what could've been an interesting book about supernaturals into a gigantic mess of infodump.
Ignore anything you read, too, about cool plot twists in this book. There were, indeed, elements that came in out of the blue. The house Diana grew up in is haunted. She had a twin brother, who she absorbed in utero. She can become pregnant by a vampire because she's so special. All of these show up out of nowhere, and all the characters make a big fuss of these cool revelations. Me, I felt like I was playing pretend with my five-year-old cousin. "And then there was a dinosaur!" Yeah, kid, sure.
So, as you can tell, I was unimpressed. Had I been reading a paper copy of this book, there would be a dent on my wall from my flinging it as hard as I could, and I wouldn't have finished it. As it was, I needed something to listen to while I drove around. Couldn't possibly be a waste of time if it was time I was already wasting, right?
WRONG.