A review by isauldur
The Warlock by Michael Scott
1.0
Originally published in Phantases and Other Funny Words
Note: Below my review is split into two parts. The first part gives my overall opinion of the book. The second will give spoilers and provide in-depth discussion. Be warned.
Part One: Overview
This, I believe, is the worst book in the series thus far. I have yet to read the final volume, but quite frankly, the series can only go up from here. Every single major problem I had with the series is present in this novel, and it was almost as if these problems were put on display. From the flat characters, to the weakened myths, to the formulaic plot points, all the way to the directionless narrative, the beyond repetitive prose and the altogether needlessness for this to be its own book.
By the time the 5th book rolls around, the reader is already numb to nearly everything that Scott is able to throw into the story. As clumsy as the first three books were, they at least had a sense of urgency and a drive for the plot. However, along with The Necromancer, The Warlock feels lifeless and directionless, meandering into one of many side plots, most of which are boring. Even seeing things that we’ve bee promised for the entire series, things that have been built for books on end, cannot make The Warlock any better.
The characters, as usual, are flat. Even less developed, I’d say, than in previous novels. Scott’s inability to show and his overdependence in telling are glaring in this novel. Throughout, we are told things about the twins. One example that comes to mind is when Sophie, as she thinks about her brother, says to herself that Josh really looked up to Nicholas Flamel. Considering how for, quite literally, the last three books Josh has been speaking out against Flamel, I would venture that Sophie is very wrong. But then again, I cannot fault her in flip-flopping about her own brother, when even Josh himself has no idea who or what he’s supposed to be. Those who have read The Necromancer know that Josh decided to side with John Dee because, allegedly, the doctor is a big, manipulative liar, great at doing these things. However, throughout this book, Dee keeps spewing the most stereotypically villainous speeches that anyone has ever heard, and yet Josh is still choosing to help the Magician. For all the Flamels have done, they at least firmly believe that they’re doing everything for the good of humanity. Dee, on the other hand, keeps talking about ruling the world, and becoming the sole emperor of Earth, of dominating the world…Would you happen to know who else had the same plan? Mojo Jojo, Dr. Claw, Pinky and the Brain, Mandark from Dexter’s Lab, and every James Bond antagonist. Dee is terrible at manipulation; Josh is just dumb.
But as boring and flat as Dee is, he is nothing compared to Billy the Kid. He has absolutely no personality, is bland, generic, dull, boring and yet for some reason, the author keeps shoehorning him into the narrative. He is useless, boring and thoroughly uninteresting, and yet he keeps showing up for some ungodly reason.
The writing style hasn’t improved either. If anything, it so much worse. It was noticeable how repetitive the prose was. Altogether different characters say the exact same thing in almost the exact same way only pages apart. I even noted two distinct examples of this. The first example is as follows: Chapter 18, p. 118.
Going back to these ancient characters: Every chance he gets, Scott beats us over the head with how “normal they look, it could almost be a regular barbecue.” And then, in the immediate next sentence, “but it’s not, because each of them is older than the human race.” You know, if you keep repeating that these creatures are just normal, as a reader, I’m going to end up believing you. And by making these myths normal, they lose their awe and their majesty. Hell, they lose their dignity. Scott is very afraid of running with the weird of the myths, with painting bizarre scenes, where some god of some culture is having dinner with the god of some other culture from the opposite side of the globe. One of them could look like a monster, and contrast so starkly with the furniture in some house in San Francisco. But no, they all look humanoid and bland. The gods in American Gods do less flashy things, and yet they’re far more awe-inspiring and dignified than anything in this series! It’s almost like Scott follows a formula for describing all these creatures. “You see that bird? It’s not a bird. It’s older than the human race!! You see that dog? It’s not a dog. It’s older than the human race!! You see that trashcan? It’s not a trashcan. Its kind hasn’t been on this Earth in centuries! Also, it’s older than the human race!! You see that pile of dirt? Ok, yeah, that is a pile of dirt. But it’s a pile of dirt that’s older than the human race!!”
With all this stuff, I finished the book with a shrug. The ending is supposed to be a big revelation. And it is, in theory. But by the time the reader gets to this point, they’re either exhausted of all the jumbled action and exposition or so bored to tear by the flat characters that the reveal doesn’t even register. It sure didn’t register with me.
Part Two: In-depth Discussion and SPOILERS
In this book, the series took a turn that I really wasn’t expecting. It went from being a young adult novel about myths and legends being real (in the style of Percy Jackson and the Olympians), to being a young adult novel about weird conspiracy theories and ancient advanced technology (in the style of those shows and documentaries about ancient aliens that run late at night on the History Channel). The tone of the series is very inconsistent, and yet again, having the Elders (which are supposed to be creatures of myth) really be the result of genetic engineering instead of just magical beings doesn’t make them cooler. It makes them weak and dull and they even seem out of place. Some mythologies work well with the ancient aliens idea, but most do not. Suddenly Danu Talis isn’t an olden city of magic and wonder, but a city so technologically advanced that it follows Clarke’s Third Law. Which would be fine, but that’s not how the series was set up in the first three books. For half of the series, we thought we were getting magic and monsters, not unexplained sci-fi.
And even if the Elders had been fully magical, it doesn’t helps that Scott keeps throwing older and older civilizations into the already-jumbled mix. The Elders were the basis for human myths, but before the Elders existed, there lived the Great Elders. But it turns out that before the Great Elders, there were the Archons. But even the Archons were just riding on the coattails of the Ancients. But even the Ancients were just ripping off the Earthlords. And yet, the Earthlords couldn’t handle the four Swords of Power that came from not-even-the-author-knows-where. Was nobody in the history of ever original? Surely, someone must have initially invented the wheel without having to review the Manual of the Wheel left behind by some older jerks who probably just copied it from an even older, unoriginal jerk. By now, the Elders have lost all their awe and marvel (or what little they had to begin with, because as I’ve said before, the gods are normalized and banal and weak) because there’s always and older Thing, which is nothing compared to the Even Older Thing. It’s a historical power creep, a contest to see who’s older, because apparently age directly translates to power, and never mind that the Earthlords, the Ancients and the Archons all fell for a reason.
And now, with apologies, I’m yet again going to bring up the repetitive prose, but this tie, I will direct to a specific word: vampire. Is everything in this universe comparable to vampires? Is there no other creature that does the same things that vampires do which the author could use as comparison? Leeches? Bats? Spiders? They all drink blood too! But no, it has to be vampires. Scathach and Aoife are actual vampires. And it turns out that Coatlicue was the first vampire (even though she’s got a whole snake theme going on). The crystal skull is described as vampire-like, and the Lotan (a seven headed monstrosity which is supposed to be terrifying) is also vampire-like. For a book series that allegedly draws inspiration from nearly every mythology in human history, it clearly loves to shove the word “vampire” into every other description! I doubt that The Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer has the damned word repeated as often!!
And finally, the most anticlimactic thing ever to be found in this book series (and that really is saying something), the defeat of the Lotan. Again, we have several chapters of buildup for this one creature, a seven-headed amphibian creature that feeds off auras and flesh (vampire-like, if you will) and when it is finally revealed, it’s just a seven-headed, 24-foot-long Komodo dragon (it seems that this is the only reptile the author has even seen). But that’s fine! The Lotan is going to rampage and run wild through the city of San Francisco! But just as it gets to the city, Flamel turns it into an egg and the egg is swallowed by a bird. All in the span of about 3 pages. I’m almost tempted to not call this anticlimactic, because that would imply that I expected something or that there was a proper buildup. There wasn’t. It was just characters telling the reader that the Lotan is cool and fearsome, but it ends up being yet another weak and undignified myth.
Note: Below my review is split into two parts. The first part gives my overall opinion of the book. The second will give spoilers and provide in-depth discussion. Be warned.
Part One: Overview
This, I believe, is the worst book in the series thus far. I have yet to read the final volume, but quite frankly, the series can only go up from here. Every single major problem I had with the series is present in this novel, and it was almost as if these problems were put on display. From the flat characters, to the weakened myths, to the formulaic plot points, all the way to the directionless narrative, the beyond repetitive prose and the altogether needlessness for this to be its own book.
By the time the 5th book rolls around, the reader is already numb to nearly everything that Scott is able to throw into the story. As clumsy as the first three books were, they at least had a sense of urgency and a drive for the plot. However, along with The Necromancer, The Warlock feels lifeless and directionless, meandering into one of many side plots, most of which are boring. Even seeing things that we’ve bee promised for the entire series, things that have been built for books on end, cannot make The Warlock any better.
The characters, as usual, are flat. Even less developed, I’d say, than in previous novels. Scott’s inability to show and his overdependence in telling are glaring in this novel. Throughout, we are told things about the twins. One example that comes to mind is when Sophie, as she thinks about her brother, says to herself that Josh really looked up to Nicholas Flamel. Considering how for, quite literally, the last three books Josh has been speaking out against Flamel, I would venture that Sophie is very wrong. But then again, I cannot fault her in flip-flopping about her own brother, when even Josh himself has no idea who or what he’s supposed to be. Those who have read The Necromancer know that Josh decided to side with John Dee because, allegedly, the doctor is a big, manipulative liar, great at doing these things. However, throughout this book, Dee keeps spewing the most stereotypically villainous speeches that anyone has ever heard, and yet Josh is still choosing to help the Magician. For all the Flamels have done, they at least firmly believe that they’re doing everything for the good of humanity. Dee, on the other hand, keeps talking about ruling the world, and becoming the sole emperor of Earth, of dominating the world…Would you happen to know who else had the same plan? Mojo Jojo, Dr. Claw, Pinky and the Brain, Mandark from Dexter’s Lab, and every James Bond antagonist. Dee is terrible at manipulation; Josh is just dumb.
But as boring and flat as Dee is, he is nothing compared to Billy the Kid. He has absolutely no personality, is bland, generic, dull, boring and yet for some reason, the author keeps shoehorning him into the narrative. He is useless, boring and thoroughly uninteresting, and yet he keeps showing up for some ungodly reason.
The writing style hasn’t improved either. If anything, it so much worse. It was noticeable how repetitive the prose was. Altogether different characters say the exact same thing in almost the exact same way only pages apart. I even noted two distinct examples of this. The first example is as follows: Chapter 18, p. 118.
The sea ahead of them was dotted with women’s heads, green hair spread out about them like seaweed. As one, they opened their mouths to reveal piranha-like teeth. And then, they launched themselves towards the boat, dipping in and out of the water like dolphins.Later, in Chapter 21, p. 137.
Hands close to their sides, the Nereids dived in and out of the water like a school of dolphins. […] Their mouths were all full of ragged needle-pointed teeth. They reminded him of piranhas.The exact same two comparisons, each comparison appearing twice in the span of 20 pages. The second example is as follows: Chapter 43, p. 286.
“Oh, I would imagine we’ll hear the screams from here.” The English Magician tapped the envelope against his leg impatiently.Later, in Chapter 48, p. 317.
Virginia shook her head. “Hard to tell, but trust me, when it arrives, we’ll know. I imagine we’ll hear the screams from here.”Identical phrasing, from two different characters, in the span of 31 pages. And that isn’t all. Every character keeps repeating the same two words to each other. When asked what they would do for their loved one, everyone answers, “Anything, everything.” Never mind that some of these characters are ancient, so much older than humanity (I’ll come back to this very soon) and have mindsets very far from those of humanity. Everyone, apparently, thinks identically.
Going back to these ancient characters: Every chance he gets, Scott beats us over the head with how “normal they look, it could almost be a regular barbecue.” And then, in the immediate next sentence, “but it’s not, because each of them is older than the human race.” You know, if you keep repeating that these creatures are just normal, as a reader, I’m going to end up believing you. And by making these myths normal, they lose their awe and their majesty. Hell, they lose their dignity. Scott is very afraid of running with the weird of the myths, with painting bizarre scenes, where some god of some culture is having dinner with the god of some other culture from the opposite side of the globe. One of them could look like a monster, and contrast so starkly with the furniture in some house in San Francisco. But no, they all look humanoid and bland. The gods in American Gods do less flashy things, and yet they’re far more awe-inspiring and dignified than anything in this series! It’s almost like Scott follows a formula for describing all these creatures. “You see that bird? It’s not a bird. It’s older than the human race!! You see that dog? It’s not a dog. It’s older than the human race!! You see that trashcan? It’s not a trashcan. Its kind hasn’t been on this Earth in centuries! Also, it’s older than the human race!! You see that pile of dirt? Ok, yeah, that is a pile of dirt. But it’s a pile of dirt that’s older than the human race!!”
With all this stuff, I finished the book with a shrug. The ending is supposed to be a big revelation. And it is, in theory. But by the time the reader gets to this point, they’re either exhausted of all the jumbled action and exposition or so bored to tear by the flat characters that the reveal doesn’t even register. It sure didn’t register with me.
Part Two: In-depth Discussion and SPOILERS
In this book, the series took a turn that I really wasn’t expecting. It went from being a young adult novel about myths and legends being real (in the style of Percy Jackson and the Olympians), to being a young adult novel about weird conspiracy theories and ancient advanced technology (in the style of those shows and documentaries about ancient aliens that run late at night on the History Channel). The tone of the series is very inconsistent, and yet again, having the Elders (which are supposed to be creatures of myth) really be the result of genetic engineering instead of just magical beings doesn’t make them cooler. It makes them weak and dull and they even seem out of place. Some mythologies work well with the ancient aliens idea, but most do not. Suddenly Danu Talis isn’t an olden city of magic and wonder, but a city so technologically advanced that it follows Clarke’s Third Law. Which would be fine, but that’s not how the series was set up in the first three books. For half of the series, we thought we were getting magic and monsters, not unexplained sci-fi.
And even if the Elders had been fully magical, it doesn’t helps that Scott keeps throwing older and older civilizations into the already-jumbled mix. The Elders were the basis for human myths, but before the Elders existed, there lived the Great Elders. But it turns out that before the Great Elders, there were the Archons. But even the Archons were just riding on the coattails of the Ancients. But even the Ancients were just ripping off the Earthlords. And yet, the Earthlords couldn’t handle the four Swords of Power that came from not-even-the-author-knows-where. Was nobody in the history of ever original? Surely, someone must have initially invented the wheel without having to review the Manual of the Wheel left behind by some older jerks who probably just copied it from an even older, unoriginal jerk. By now, the Elders have lost all their awe and marvel (or what little they had to begin with, because as I’ve said before, the gods are normalized and banal and weak) because there’s always and older Thing, which is nothing compared to the Even Older Thing. It’s a historical power creep, a contest to see who’s older, because apparently age directly translates to power, and never mind that the Earthlords, the Ancients and the Archons all fell for a reason.
And now, with apologies, I’m yet again going to bring up the repetitive prose, but this tie, I will direct to a specific word: vampire. Is everything in this universe comparable to vampires? Is there no other creature that does the same things that vampires do which the author could use as comparison? Leeches? Bats? Spiders? They all drink blood too! But no, it has to be vampires. Scathach and Aoife are actual vampires. And it turns out that Coatlicue was the first vampire (even though she’s got a whole snake theme going on). The crystal skull is described as vampire-like, and the Lotan (a seven headed monstrosity which is supposed to be terrifying) is also vampire-like. For a book series that allegedly draws inspiration from nearly every mythology in human history, it clearly loves to shove the word “vampire” into every other description! I doubt that The Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer has the damned word repeated as often!!
And finally, the most anticlimactic thing ever to be found in this book series (and that really is saying something), the defeat of the Lotan. Again, we have several chapters of buildup for this one creature, a seven-headed amphibian creature that feeds off auras and flesh (vampire-like, if you will) and when it is finally revealed, it’s just a seven-headed, 24-foot-long Komodo dragon (it seems that this is the only reptile the author has even seen). But that’s fine! The Lotan is going to rampage and run wild through the city of San Francisco! But just as it gets to the city, Flamel turns it into an egg and the egg is swallowed by a bird. All in the span of about 3 pages. I’m almost tempted to not call this anticlimactic, because that would imply that I expected something or that there was a proper buildup. There wasn’t. It was just characters telling the reader that the Lotan is cool and fearsome, but it ends up being yet another weak and undignified myth.