Book Review - Finnikin of the Rock
Melina Marchetta notes (about writing this book), "I was often told that I couldn't write fantasy unless I had read all the greats and knew the conventions well, but I think the first step to writing good fantasy is knowing this world we live in well." It's a very telling quote, in that Finnikin of the Rock proves both of these 'truisms.'
Any long-time fantasy reader is apt to be driven nuts by certain elements of this book. A glance at the map reveals a smallish continent (more of an island, based on the distances traveled) divided into eight or nine kingdoms by disturbingly arbitrary (i.e., strangely straight) borders. Another glance reveals that the continent's major river flows...get this...FROM OCEAN TO OCEAN. *boggles*
The first step in creating a setting for a fantasy novel: a basic understanding of physical and political geography!
Another thing that bothered me was the fact that each of these arbitrary countries has its own language, most of them apparently unrelated to each other. The text offers no clues about how or why this situation came to be, which is ironic since the book spends so much time obsessing about languages. At one point, the male protagonist talks about how he loves his guttural and earthy native language, despite the fact that almost all the names of the characters from that country (Lumatere) are not guttural in the slightest: Evanjalin, Travanion, Beatriss, Isaboe, Lucian....
It's as if someone told Marchetta what elements are important in world-building for a fantasy novel, but she lacked either the time to research or the aptitude to apply those elements in a way that experienced fantasy readers would find credible.
Which is really too bad, because her storytelling skills are otherwise quite good. The plot is fairly complex for a YA novel, and I found the tale of these characters who are magically exiled from their native land as a result of a horrible tragedy very compelling (even though I guessed the heroine's true identity as early as chapter 2--but I think that's just me). Occasionally the author lapses into attempts at various types of 'social consciousness' (including the rather appalling attempt at the very beginning to tie the story, thematically, to the Holocaust), but fortunately Marchetta listens more to her muse than to her inner activist. She also has a intriguingly spare style that I found as compelling as the story itself. (It's too bad that her other books have plots/settings that don't interest me in the slightest.)
So, is this book worth reading? Well, yes...I'm not sorry I did. On the other hand, the basic concept of this book bears an almost inexorable resemblance to Guy Gavriel Kay's Tigana, which may be one of the finest fantasy novels ever written. Consequently, for those who have read it, this book may feel like 'Tigana Lite'--an unfortunate position for a story that stands up better on its own merits than in comparison.
Any long-time fantasy reader is apt to be driven nuts by certain elements of this book. A glance at the map reveals a smallish continent (more of an island, based on the distances traveled) divided into eight or nine kingdoms by disturbingly arbitrary (i.e., strangely straight) borders. Another glance reveals that the continent's major river flows...get this...FROM OCEAN TO OCEAN. *boggles*
The first step in creating a setting for a fantasy novel: a basic understanding of physical and political geography!
Another thing that bothered me was the fact that each of these arbitrary countries has its own language, most of them apparently unrelated to each other. The text offers no clues about how or why this situation came to be, which is ironic since the book spends so much time obsessing about languages. At one point, the male protagonist talks about how he loves his guttural and earthy native language, despite the fact that almost all the names of the characters from that country (Lumatere) are not guttural in the slightest: Evanjalin, Travanion, Beatriss, Isaboe, Lucian....
It's as if someone told Marchetta what elements are important in world-building for a fantasy novel, but she lacked either the time to research or the aptitude to apply those elements in a way that experienced fantasy readers would find credible.
Which is really too bad, because her storytelling skills are otherwise quite good. The plot is fairly complex for a YA novel, and I found the tale of these characters who are magically exiled from their native land as a result of a horrible tragedy very compelling (even though I guessed the heroine's true identity as early as chapter 2--but I think that's just me). Occasionally the author lapses into attempts at various types of 'social consciousness' (including the rather appalling attempt at the very beginning to tie the story, thematically, to the Holocaust), but fortunately Marchetta listens more to her muse than to her inner activist. She also has a intriguingly spare style that I found as compelling as the story itself. (It's too bad that her other books have plots/settings that don't interest me in the slightest.)
So, is this book worth reading? Well, yes...I'm not sorry I did. On the other hand, the basic concept of this book bears an almost inexorable resemblance to Guy Gavriel Kay's Tigana, which may be one of the finest fantasy novels ever written. Consequently, for those who have read it, this book may feel like 'Tigana Lite'--an unfortunate position for a story that stands up better on its own merits than in comparison.