The Magicians

I picked up The Magicians on a whim one day. The cover was pretty and I had read all the other offerings on the shelf, so I thought I’d give it a go. I assumed I’d be transported to a world of whimsy and wonder that I’d never want to leave. Instead, I was transported a few states over to a place that I could really do without.

“Quentin Coldwater is brilliant but miserable,” the back cover says. It’s true. Mopey Quentin is smarter than his friends and feels like an outsider. The only place he feels at home is Fillory, a Narnia clone that’s the main focus of a series of books he loves. His giftedness does make him a perfect candidate for Brakebills, a college for magicians. There’s no wand waving here: instead, students are treated to five years of finger breaking, mind numbing repetitions of hand gestures and spells. Languages are learned and conditions are considered. It is not very exciting.

And perhaps that’s the whole point. Taking the wonder out of magic leaves room for drama, and there’s lots of that. Quentin falls downward into a pit of personal drama and moral decay. He drinks, he cheats, he does whatever he feels like. Through it all, though, he keeps Fillory in the back of his mind. If magic is real, he thinks, then Fillory must be too.

So it’s not much of a shock when we learn that Fillory is indeed a real place and is in need of help. Quentin finally gets a chance to put his magic to practice and do some good. This side of the adventure is disappointingly short, however, and feels just as depressing as the rest of the story.

And that’s really the problem for me. I don’t require a happy ending, but I couldn’t help but feel completely alienated by the entire book. The Magicians is extremely aware of its influences, but instead of embracing them Grossman has chosen the path of dismissal. Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Lord of the Rings are all referenced, but in such a way that you feel foolish for ever liking them. There’s no slow unfolding of a new world fraught with adventure and meaningful journeys. Instead there’s a bunch of drunk college kids doing something with their hands. Who cares?

While the story was certainly well written and engrossing, by the end I just felt discouraged and empty. There is certainly a sense of realism here that is hard to find in the traditional fantasy genre. I appreciate the unflinching portrayal of what an average teenager might do if faced with a magical world, that’s not what I’m reading a fantasy book for. Give me hobbits, Quidditch, and giant talking lions. Keep the drunken orgies to a minimum. Thanks.

There's a sequel coming out next summer called The Magician King. Rumor has it there will be more emphasis on the fantastical element. Grossman does have an interesting style, so I'm looking forward to seeing if a bit more of the fantastical will lighten the story a bit. Time will tell.

The Final Word:

The Magicians managed to take the magic out of magic. If you’re looking for the next Harry Potter, don’t expect to find it here.