The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley

"Refreshing...haunting...an utterly engrossing fantasy!" - The New York Times

"This is the story of Aerin Dragon-Killer...a story you will never forget." - Back cover

It is true that there are some books you never forget.  The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley is one such book.  I know we often say "I'll never forget the time that _________" or "I'll always remember _______".  I say that often with books and have indeed even done so in various reviews on this site.  Nevertheless, I can say with complete confidence that The Hero and the Crown is unforgettable, because I have remembered passages almost verbatim in the 25+ years since I last read it.

When I was in seventh grade, we had to read two major books in my English class: a historical fiction novel and a fantasy novel.  Every year, the Advanced English class read Johnny Tremain and The Hobbit.  My sister -just two years ahead of me in school- read both of these before I did.  As expected, when it was my turn, I met Johnny Tremain, Rab Silsbee, and Lavinia Lyte.  But our teacher made a change in the curriculum and, mercifully, I did not have to read The Hobbit; my class read McKinley instead of Tolkien.  (Call me a traitor to English literature but, while I do enjoy Tolkien's masterful crafting of fantasy and different universes and beings, reading his work is laborious, tedious, and downright mind-numbing.  There.  I said it.)

I had never in my life heard of Robin McKinley nor of her stories set in the magical country of Damar.  Her first story taking place in this setting is The Blue Sword (1982), featuring "Harry" Crewe as its protagonist:  an orphan girl who is destined to heroically carry the (you'll never guess) Blue Sword.  I have been meaning to read this book since I was about 13 years old, and have just last week purchased a copy of it.  So, congratulations to me on finally becoming an adult and making choices.

The Hero and the Crown is the prequel to this two-part series, despite being published two years later (1984).  Aerin is both a princess and an outcast in her own family and kingdom, living decades (centuries?) prior to Harry.  The daughter of King Arlbeth of Damar and his second wife, a supposed witchwoman from the demon-haunted North, many of the Damarians and Aerin's own relatives view her as a novelty to be largely avoided.  With the exception of her father, her cousin Tor (who is next in line to the throne), and her maid Teka, Aerin spends most of her time isolated from her people.  As such, she has lots of time to herself where she can think, read, learn, and sneak off for the increasingly perilous adventures that will ultimately lead to her fulfilling her destiny.

It isn't often that you come across a fantasy novel that is fast paced.  While The Washington Post stated that The Hero and the Crown "Confirms McKinley as an important writer of modern heroic fantasy, a genre whose giants include C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Ursula K. Le Guin...", she lacks the long-windedness of some of these better known authors.  Tolkien, as the long revered standard of fantasy fiction, has been known to spend fifty pages on details like Hobbit tobacco or a particular type of bark.  Readers are duped into thinking this will be important, else he wouldn't spend so much time on it, only to later discover that it had absolutely no bearing on the story and, in fact, he would never return to the subject.  Such details and descriptions are marvelous for the imagination, but alienate readers beyond fully committed LARPers.  Sometimes, less is more.  One thing that I particularly love about McKinley's style is that she doesn't draw out battles or important plot developments beyond what is necessary.  There are probably three major climaxes within The Hero and the Crown, but the book itself is only 246 pages (Puffin Books).  Indeed, it is often catalogued as a young adult book, but it doesn't necessarily read as such.  Certainly, young adults could read it -the story itself is very accessible- but it may prove linguistically complicated for kids who aren't considered advanced readers.  I was 12 or 13 when I read it and, while certainly within my realm of understanding, I remember lists of assigned vocabulary words (think: vestigial, fortnight, apothecaries, poltergeist, self-aggrandizement) that made this more than a casual read for me at that age.

McKinley's conciseness does not come at the cost of her beautifully descriptive writing.  A wonderfully grim passage describes the malevolence encountered by two of the main protagonists at a particularly harrowing point of the story:

"A blast of grief, of the deaths of children, of crippling diseases that took beauty at once but withheld death; of unconsummated love, of love lost or twisted and grown to hate; of noble deeds that proved useless, that broke the hearts of their doers; of betrayal without reason, of guilt without penance, of all the human miseries that have ever occurred; all this struck then, like the breath of a slaughterhouse, or the blow of a murderer."

While her words and stories are certainly memorable, it is perhaps McKinley's characters that are the most unforgettable.  

Aerin:  The willful, courageous protagonist who -instead of being idle- takes her pain from rejection and withheld truths and actively turns them into burning curiosity, a desire to learn and prove her worth to herself.  In a genre where the ladies are most often in the background bestowing favors and tokens on the male heroes, it's nice to see a girl taking the lead.

Tor: Aerin's cousin, betrothed (ew, but not uncommon for these "long ago, far away" fantasy royals), and next in line for the throne, Tor is portrayed as level-headed, calm, collected, and compassionate.  He is Aerin's biggest ally from childhood and throughout the story.

Luthe:  A broody, reclusive, and ageless wizard, Luthe's frustrations with Aerin and her people are sometimes misdirected.  Nevertheless, he saves her life on multiple occasions and teaches her all he can to help her save Damar...while simultaneously falling in love with her.

Maur:  The colossal black dragon who darkens the sky and whose wickedness -even in death- oppresses and destroys all it touches.

The folstza and the yerigs:  The wild cats and dogs of the mountain who voluntarily form Aerin's personal army on one of her adventures...and who stick around with her indefinitely.

The setting, the story, the climaxes, the characters -- all of these elements combine to make a fantasy novel that lives up to the acclaim it earned by winning the Newbery Medal.  McKinley's imagination is unmatched as she weaves a tender, compelling, and exciting story that you won't want to put down even after it ends.

Fireflies in the Garden, Robert Frost

Is there anything more delicious than the final days of summer?  The warmth lasting into the evening as you drink up the sun's final rays, its glow lingering on your skin; the song of the cicadas as the day begins to cool into evening; the soft feeling of sleepiness coming over you as you relax after an active day outdoors in the garden, on the water, or by the pool.  If only those damn bugs would quit biting.

But, there is one bug that doesn't harass.  Universally drawing kids to it -like its insect cousin the moth to the flame- it is a bug that symbolizes childhood in the summertime to me.  Staying up late to catch lightning bugs is a memory so deeply ingrained in me that it is one I seek to recreate annually with my own brats.

We're not quite there yet but, as we near summer's end and Ragnarok back-to-school (the date of which has become so early in recent years that it's frankly vulgar), I find myself dreading the cold that awaits us on the other side of the year.  In those dark, cold months, I hope that you will allow your minds to return to Summer, and be illuminated by her little fairies of light.  With a poem that's far shorter than my wordy write-up, Robert Frost reminds readers of the beauty in the simple, tiny things that we often overlook.

FIREFLIES IN THE GARDEN

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,

And here on earth come emulating flies

That, though they never equal stars in size

(And they were never really stars at heart),

Achieve at times a very starlike start.

Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

Miss Morton and the English House Party Murder, by Catherine Lloyd

I did it.  I did it right this time.  I started a series at the beginning.

If you read my last review, you may recall that I made a bargain purchase of what I thought was just another murder mystery novel to satisfy a craving for a "beach book".  I soon realized that I was reading the third book in a longer series by English author Catherine Lloyd, but it was of little consequence; this was the sort of series where you really could begin with book three and not be at a disadvantage.  In fact, I rather enjoyed the book so much that, when I happened upon another Regency mystery novel by the same author, I snagged it from my local library.

Miss Morton and the English House Party Murder is the first in a new series (see it right there on the cover?) by Catherine Lloyd.  Much like her Kurland St. Mary series from whence came Death Comes to Kurland Hall in my previous post, this novel features a strong female lead who, despite the societal norms of Regency Era England, speaks her mind and earns her way.  It's a premise that we have never seen before (*snort*).  With the help of an elderly (read: aged 37) employer, her employer's debutante daughter, and a handsome -albeit surly- country doctor, Caroline Morton -a woman scandalously teetering on the edge of spinsterhood in her mid-twenties- solves a series of insidious murders happening within her social circle.  Murder, tea, rain, hounds, propriety, sherry, large estates, hints of a stiff English romance, entitled rich people, talks of class, ladies' maids with no identity beyond styling the protagonist's hair.  Everything that I said in my last review applies to this novel by the same author.  

Indeed, this is the stuff of "beach books" and was precisely what I needed to pack in my suitcase for my family's vacation last week.  Now, however, I need to shift my focus to other genres before I get wholly sucked into the affected universe of the (former Lady) Caroline Morton and her nouveau riche employer, Mrs. Frogerton.  I'll be back though.  Guys, it isn't Shakespeare, but it's hella fun.  

Death Comes to Kurland Hall, by Catherine Lloyd

 It has been a minute since I've posted a review but, in fairness, I have read three books in the interim.  Two of these three books are part of a children's series recommended by my daughter, and I will be be writing about those in one single review at a later date.  In the meantime, I thought I'd indulge in one of my favorite -and slightly more frivolous- genres:  murder mysteries.

I read a lot of classic literature, some epics, some histories, some tragedies.  I haven't touched a brainless book in quite some time and, quite frankly, I just wanted to read one.  One of my students -a retired English professor- claims that her favorite books these days are what she calls "beach books", meaning books that you'd read lazily on a beach.  These are the types of reads that you pick up and leave in the hotel room, at the airport, or in a Free Little Library somewhere.  I used to call them "trash books", but that seems to imply that they are trashy (which, let's face it, sometimes they are).

Anyway, I happened to find a new murder mystery at my local library's used book store and was able to purchase it for 25 cents.  (Love a bargain!!!)  What I didn't realize was that Death Comes to Kurland Hall is actually the third book in the longer Kurland St. Mary mystery series by Catherine Lloyd.  No matter, though, as it was easy enough to fill in the backstories of these characters and settings, even starting with the third installment.

A predictable ending.  Contrived dialogue.  Characters cliched to the highest order.  It was delightful.  I say without the remotest shred of sarcasm, I genuinely enjoyed this book.  It was everything I wanted after some of my most recent reads, a perfect "beach book".  Set in Regency England (early 1800s), our main protagonist, Lucy Harrington, is compelled to solve the murder of a particularly despicable busybody who is found dead at a very grand wedding reception.  Filled with tea, rain, ridiculous bonnets, and plenty of people with considerably large sticks up their butts, this book is quintessentially English.  I hope the next person to pick it up from my neighborhood's Free Little Library unabashedly enjoys it as much as I did.  In fact, I even checked out another murder mystery novel by Catherine Lloyd (the first of its series, this time!) to take with  me on my family's vacation later this summer.

Not everything we read has to be highbrow.