“Son of a Witch” is Gregory Maguire’s follow-up (more “companion book” than sequel) to “Wicked,” his phenomenally popular adaptation of “The Wizard of Oz” by L. Frank Baum from the point of view of the Wicked Witch of the West (AKA Elphaba). Here we follow the exploits of young Liir, who may or may not be the Witch’s son, as he tries to piece together his life following the death of his maybe-mother. His ostensible conflict is to find Nor, Liir’s friend who was kidnapped by the Wizard’s military; and to help an Elephant (yes, capitalized) Princess named Nastoya; but the central focus on the story is on Liir finding himself.

Here’s a good example of my hopes and expectations getting the better of me. Before I read “Son of a Witch,” I had heard that protagonist Liir was gay, so I was looking forward to a gay fantasy novel. I then read and read and read, all the while wondering, “Hey, where’s the gay?” When the gay finally showed up, and then went away again, the book clarified itself to be a fantasy novel with a bicurious protagonist who has a gay fling as a minor and brief subplot.

Maguire himself says:

“he has never felt obligated to write gay characters or situations simply because he himself is gay. ‘I’d always thought Liir had a gay side,’ Maguire says. ‘But it wasn’t going to show up just to titillate me. I could do that in the privacy of my own bedroom!’ In ‘Son of a Witch,’ Liir’s same-sex desire serves to sharpen his conflict with Oz’s religious regime. ‘This book was … more and more about the way governments can harness false piety in order to preserve their own power,’ Maguire explains. ‘And one of the things piety does best is to issue pronouncements about what constitutes moral behavior. Plus,’ he adds, ‘it was fun and I liked it and I found it romantic and sexy.’” (1).

Hm. Romantic and sexy? Try fleeting and unexplored.

On the plus side, the novel is populated by many interesting characters, and Liir’s journey is fast-paced and twisting as circumstances around him continually shift. The book also contains much thinly veiled political commentary, including a despotic leader called only the Apostle who may remind many readers of a certain contemporary world leader. The book even contains imagery of a military campaign that was partially inspired by the images from Abu Ghraib, according to Maguire.(2)

Liir makes for an unusual hero. Not only does he not know his own destiny, he seems to actively resist possessing one. The reader might see him from two perspectives. One, he is a young man struggling to understand and make a place for himself in the world with absolutely no one to support or guide him. On the other hand, Liir occasionally comes across as willfully naive, if not just plain dumb.

The novel’s single greatest flaw is the lack of a compelling central story. At several points the book seems to approach a narrative that readers can sink their teeth into, but most of the plot threads are like the depiction of Liir’s relationship with Trism: frustratingly brief and shallow. Meanwhile, the plot developments that sometimes seem twisty, will then meander into aimless narrative wandering.

Despite its flaws, I liked it. It was entertaining, like an unusually sophisticated fairy tale, but unfortunately some of the story elements (plot and character, notably) fail to captivate.

In all honesty, a big reason I read the book in the first place was that I had heard Liir was gay, and I wanted to read a fantasy novel with a gay main character. Unfortunately, the sole gay relationship is an all-too-brief and isolated affair, and Liir’s sexuality is far from clear cut. One senses the relationship with Trism was as much experimentation as genuine longing.

Check it out if you’re a fan of Maguire’s previous work or starved for gay content in fantasy fiction. I have to admit, the many allusions to Elphaba and the previous book have seriously tempted me to read “Wicked” next.

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(1) Regina Marler, “Back to Oz,” The Advocate, 27 September 2005, http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1589/is_2005_Sept_27/ai_n15654046 (4 April 2008)

(2) Bob Minzesheimer, “‘Wicked’ author Gregory Maguire casts his spell,” USA Today, 12 October 2005, http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/news/2005-10-12-gregory-maguire-interview_x.htm (3 April 2008)

Propsero lives in a veritable garden of Eden with his daughter Freia, but inwardly he seethes: his brother Avril took the crown that Prospero felt is rightfully his. The story begins with Prospero planting the seeds of a rebellion to seize the throne. Into the story wanders a powerful but strange sorcerer named Dewar with secret connections to both sides.

Hm. I’m actually making the book sound more interesting than it really is. I found the plot uninventive and formulaic, with the only surprises (most notably Dewar’s connection to Prospero’s interests) seeming contrived. The language didn’t help: Prospero and a few other characters speak something that I can only call pseudo-Shakespearean, which interrupted the flow and pace of the story.

But the real failing of the novel are the characters. I simply don’t care about any of them, and I dislike more than a few. But even those I dislike don’t engender enough passion for me to, at minimum, admire them as villains. In fact, I wonder if the clear lack of a villain hobbled the story. I suppose the author intended Avril the Emperor as the central antagonist; but he plays a relatively small role, mostly off-stage. Prospero is certainly no more likeable, but Willey can’t seem to decide if she wants to reader to root for, or against, Prospero.

At any rate, lacking a worthy adversary, perhaps protagonist Dewar never really has a chance to shine. As it is, Dewar is lackluster. It doesn’t help that he makes a couple of morally questionable choices. Additionally, the book is filled with all kinds of subtle inconsistencies. For example, Prospero supposedly loves his daughter dearly, but he’s consistently mean and demeaning to her. Now, if the story had centered around Freia escaping the yoke of a sexist, manipulative, controlling father bent on world domination – that might have been interesting.

Additionally, the introduction of the book is jarring – it focuses on Prince Josquin as though he’s the protagonist, but then he turns out to be a very minor character. The tone of the book is also inconsistent. The story mostly reads like high fantasy, a happy-go-lucky tale (which matches Dewar’s happy-go-lucky attitude) in a Medieval-esque setting with magical elements.

But then the story would dip into very dark territory, most notably with a couple of violent assaults on women. Dark fantasy can make for compelling reading if handled well (see George R. R. Martin for evidence), but Willey doesn’t seem to have the stomach for it – the story would diverge into a darker area, usually offstage, only to return to the high fantasy tone. The darker elements make for an uncomfortable fit into an otherwise lighter story.

The ending is also underwhelming and certainly poorly foreshadowed: a whole lot of buildup for not much payoff.

The story does contain some gay content in the person of Prince Josquin. The story opens with the Prince being ensorcelled by a mysterious, handsome man, and it’s made perfectly clear that the Prince is quite fond of the company of handsome men. Ahem. But then it’s revealed later that his dalliance with the mysterious stranger was perfectly chaste. Go figure.

Unfortunately, Prince Josquin is not terrible impressive. He has no personal agency; he goes where and does what others tell him. But then, he doesn’t seem to have any particular goals of his own, nor the strength of will to pursue any. The narrative also implies that he’s irresponsibly promiscuous, as when his uncle warns him against “fraternizing” with the soldiers. It’s also stated fairly explicitly that he’s borderline incompetent, especially in manly endeavors like war. In fact, I see similarities in Josquin’s relationship with his family and Freia’s relationship with her father. If Freia and Jos had been built up as characters more, it might have been interesting to see those relationships play out in tandem.

Overall, I’m not impressed. But I am frustrated. Despite all my criticisms, I see a lot of potential in this story. A tighter narrative, more elaborately contoured characters, different emphases, and I think “A Sorcerer and a Gentleman” might have made a fascinating read.

I love McCaffrey’s Pern series. Unlike a lot of modern genre authors, McCaffrey follows the “Keep It Simple, Silly” guideline to fiction writing: a straightforward story (peppered with a few surprises here and there) written with crisp prose and tight editing, populated by a manageable number of engaging and marvelously unique characters. I clearly remember reading “Dragonflight” (another book in the Pern series) one day after school as an adolescent; the book had me utterly enraptured. It’s a rare sequence of books that yields memories OF READING that last for decades.

Chronologically, “Dragonsdawn” is the first book in the Pern series. It follows the human colonists arriving on Pern, establishing a settlement, discovering the deadly threat of Thread, and engineering dragons to combat the Thread. The author interweaves the personal dramas of the myriad characters throughout the story, giving it human interest and depth.

“Dragonsdawn” is easily one my favorites from the Pern series. It’s delightful to watch McCaffrey start with science fiction and end with a fantasy novel. The characters are among the sharpest and most well-rounded she’s created. The engaging story unfolds naturally and quickly; there’s no fluff in this fast-paced novel. What a welcome relief from the modern scourge of genre fiction: overwriting.

For an easy, enjoyable sci fi read, I highly recommend “Dragonsdawn.” You can read it before any of the other Pern books (since it predates them chronologically), after you’ve read the others (as a prequel showing how it all started), or on its own (it’s a completely self-contained story).

Gay Content is low, with a couple of brief references to homosexuality. Specifically, one important female character (Sallah Telgar) has romantic designs on a man who seems at best friendly with her; Sallah wonders if the object of her affection prefers men. McCaffrey also mentions that even those people who are in same-sex relationships have an obligation to reproduce, given that these people are trying to colonize a planet.

On the whole, the references suggest Pernese society accepts gay people (as long as they have kids), but I marked down a little on the Gay Positivity due to “defamation by invisibility.” All the references are abstract. As far as I can tell, none of the named characters (major or even minor) are gay. I appreciate McCaffrey throwing the gay community a bone, but it would have been nice to see an actual gay person, even if minor, in the story.