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A review by trin
The Murdstone Trilogy by Mal Peet
2.0
First, let me state the obvious: publishing this book as YA was definitely a mistake. It is extremely not YA: the subject matter is far too adult (and I don’t just mean all the drinking and masturbation, but the concerns of the characters) and the vocabulary would likely put 99% of YA readers off. This, for example, is the very first paragraph:
(I mean, what teen does not what to read about badgers ripe and rank with estrus?)
So the question becomes, is it worthwhile to ignore this poor publishing decision and treat this book as an adult novel? I was excited to read it and find out: as you can see from the above passage, the writing is very, very British (and once people start exchanging dialogue, becomes more so), and that’s a style of humor that I really enjoy. I am also myself an avid fantasy – and even YA fantasy – fan, while recognizing that both those genres are ripe for parody. I was looking forward to seeing them affectionately skewered.
Unfortunately, there is nothing affectionate about this book. It’s the story of Philip Murdstone, a once critically acclaimed, now washed-up author of sensitive, realistic books for teens (much like Peet himself wrote). His agent, Minerva, convinces him that the only way to salvage his career is to hop on the YA fantasy bandwagon. But Philip’s research into the genre leaves him disgusted, so he goes and gets tanked at the local pub, then passes out amongst an assembly of mysterious standing stones. There, he dreams the entire opening to a fantasy saga, narrated in the voice of a goblin-esque creature named Pocket. When Philip finishes transcribing this first part of the novel, he is visited by Pocket himself, who promises to provide Philip with the rest of the story – if Philip will retrieve a magical amulet in return.
This makes up the first third of Peet’s novel, and it’s a very enjoyable beginning. There are some incredibly sharp, clever sentences, and plenty of dry, English wit. Peet is quite brutal with his subjects – fantasy and YA literature, the publishing industry in general, and yokels of the English countryside – but so too can be, say, Kingsley Amis or David Lodge or Edward St. Aubyn. I never laughed out loud, but my lip curled in frequent amusement.
Philip’s channeled novel, Dark Entropy, is of course a monster success, and therefore, obviously, must become the first of a trilogy. To write the next two volumes, Philip enters into increasingly complicated and dangerous deals with Pocket – and what he’s writing begins to take on a sinister edge as well. At this point, also, Peet’s novel also becomes increasingly convoluted. There are passages from the points of view of the crazy, thumb-sucking sisters who run the local library and speak entirely in dialect. More and more of the fantasy world intrudes on the plot, and unfortunately – though possibly intentionally? – for something being hailed as “the next Harry Potter” AND winning literary awards, it sounds just dreadful. To a degree that I, who know perfectly well that utter dreck can hit it big, didn’t quite buy Dark Entropy’s success. (Also, like The Murdstone Trilogy itself, it is clearly NOT YA.) And most unfortunate, we start to see the dark side of a certain type of old-school British humor creep in: a bit of racism. Most certainly some classism. A really uncomfortable scene of (also just confusing) transphobia. And definitely a hearty dose of sexism.
When you get right down to it, the book just feels mean. Nasty. This is perhaps not the nicest thing to say, considering that the author is now deceased, but it reads like the work of a very, very bitter older writer who thinks the younger generation is producing nothing but trash. Kids these days!!! It also doesn’t have anything interesting or new to say about publishing – “agents are the worst!” – or about the genre at which it is poking fun. I think you have to know, and even like, a subject to really parody it well. It will mean you understand its conventions, its weak spots and strengths. The movie Galaxy Quest is a superior example of this. But from reading The Murdstone Trilogy, it seems to me that Peet has likely done little more exploration of fantasy than his protagonist—just enough to lance the giants of the genre. (Terry Pratchett, at least, he refrains from completely savaging.)
I began this book with excitement and finished it with a bad taste in my mouth. Instead of an affectionate parody, it's a novel about a terrible person having terrible things happen to him, while inflicting upon the world terrible books. What Peet never seems to have understood is that the world is terrible enough already. Good fantasy illuminates the bad, or allows you to envision something better. Even when it's sort of goofy, even when it's for kids, I'd so much rather read that.
The sun sinks, leaving tatty furbelows of crimson cloud in the Dartmoor sky. From somewhere in the bracken, tough invisible ponies huff and snicker. Final calls: rooks croaking homeward, a robin hoping for a last territorial dispute before bedtime. Voles scuttle to holes, their backs abristle with fear of Owl. It is early spring. Lambs plead for mothers. Below ground, badgers, ripe and rank with estrus, prepare themselves for the night’s business. A fox flames its ears and clears its throat.
(I mean, what teen does not what to read about badgers ripe and rank with estrus?)
So the question becomes, is it worthwhile to ignore this poor publishing decision and treat this book as an adult novel? I was excited to read it and find out: as you can see from the above passage, the writing is very, very British (and once people start exchanging dialogue, becomes more so), and that’s a style of humor that I really enjoy. I am also myself an avid fantasy – and even YA fantasy – fan, while recognizing that both those genres are ripe for parody. I was looking forward to seeing them affectionately skewered.
Unfortunately, there is nothing affectionate about this book. It’s the story of Philip Murdstone, a once critically acclaimed, now washed-up author of sensitive, realistic books for teens (much like Peet himself wrote). His agent, Minerva, convinces him that the only way to salvage his career is to hop on the YA fantasy bandwagon. But Philip’s research into the genre leaves him disgusted, so he goes and gets tanked at the local pub, then passes out amongst an assembly of mysterious standing stones. There, he dreams the entire opening to a fantasy saga, narrated in the voice of a goblin-esque creature named Pocket. When Philip finishes transcribing this first part of the novel, he is visited by Pocket himself, who promises to provide Philip with the rest of the story – if Philip will retrieve a magical amulet in return.
This makes up the first third of Peet’s novel, and it’s a very enjoyable beginning. There are some incredibly sharp, clever sentences, and plenty of dry, English wit. Peet is quite brutal with his subjects – fantasy and YA literature, the publishing industry in general, and yokels of the English countryside – but so too can be, say, Kingsley Amis or David Lodge or Edward St. Aubyn. I never laughed out loud, but my lip curled in frequent amusement.
Philip’s channeled novel, Dark Entropy, is of course a monster success, and therefore, obviously, must become the first of a trilogy. To write the next two volumes, Philip enters into increasingly complicated and dangerous deals with Pocket – and what he’s writing begins to take on a sinister edge as well. At this point, also, Peet’s novel also becomes increasingly convoluted. There are passages from the points of view of the crazy, thumb-sucking sisters who run the local library and speak entirely in dialect. More and more of the fantasy world intrudes on the plot, and unfortunately – though possibly intentionally? – for something being hailed as “the next Harry Potter” AND winning literary awards, it sounds just dreadful. To a degree that I, who know perfectly well that utter dreck can hit it big, didn’t quite buy Dark Entropy’s success. (Also, like The Murdstone Trilogy itself, it is clearly NOT YA.) And most unfortunate, we start to see the dark side of a certain type of old-school British humor creep in: a bit of racism. Most certainly some classism. A really uncomfortable scene of (also just confusing) transphobia. And definitely a hearty dose of sexism.
When you get right down to it, the book just feels mean. Nasty. This is perhaps not the nicest thing to say, considering that the author is now deceased, but it reads like the work of a very, very bitter older writer who thinks the younger generation is producing nothing but trash. Kids these days!!! It also doesn’t have anything interesting or new to say about publishing – “agents are the worst!” – or about the genre at which it is poking fun. I think you have to know, and even like, a subject to really parody it well. It will mean you understand its conventions, its weak spots and strengths. The movie Galaxy Quest is a superior example of this. But from reading The Murdstone Trilogy, it seems to me that Peet has likely done little more exploration of fantasy than his protagonist—just enough to lance the giants of the genre. (Terry Pratchett, at least, he refrains from completely savaging.)
I began this book with excitement and finished it with a bad taste in my mouth. Instead of an affectionate parody, it's a novel about a terrible person having terrible things happen to him, while inflicting upon the world terrible books. What Peet never seems to have understood is that the world is terrible enough already. Good fantasy illuminates the bad, or allows you to envision something better. Even when it's sort of goofy, even when it's for kids, I'd so much rather read that.