A bit of a slog and a bit of a downer, but essential for Elphaba fans.
It’s not easy being green, as this prequel to Maguire’s Wicked series amply shows.
Everyone has parents, but few are as flawed as those who brought Elphaba—Elphie, here—into the world. Pop is an emotionally unavailable missionary from Munchkinland, working among the poor Quadling laborers of Wend Hardings, “sheep-shit country.” Mom often keeps a breast exposed, hopeful of catching the attention of someone, anyone, who’ll pay attention to her: “A need to be seen. By men.” It being a standard trope of children’s literature that daughters must live without their mothers, mom has to check out fairly early in the proceedings, leaving Elphie to take care of her armless—so we are frequently reminded—sister and a brother who’s a bundle of misdirected energy. There’s not much love in evidence, and of course the absence of love is an essential ingredient in the recipe for producing evil people. In Maguire’s telling, Elphie, who “makes wishes on falling stars still,” begs for our sympathy, but then does something just awful enough—for example, picking viciously on poor armless Nessa—to lose it. Elphie’s need for connection is met, at least in some small part, by her relationship to animals: She’s gifted in communicating with “polter-Monkey[s]” and dwarf bears, whom Maguire, nodding to current headlines, calls “migrants on the run.” Indeed, a subtle political undercurrent runs throughout, with Elphie searching for connection with a wise Indigenous man who “went off to the imperialists to tell their military to stop sending troops to build that highway of yellow steps.” Not much happens in Maguire’s talky pages, certainly as compared to the previous Wicked books, but he’s constructing a psychological backstory that prepares the way for Elphie/Elphaba’s turn to the dark side. “Hurt can distend rationality,” he writes, and that’s just so.
A bit of a slog and a bit of a downer, but essential for Elphaba fans.Pub Date: March 25, 2025
ISBN: 9780063377011
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Morrow/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: Dec. 10, 2024
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2025
SEEN & HEARD
A beautiful meditation on queer identity against a supernatural backdrop.
Three women deal very differently with vampirism in Schwab’s era-spanning follow-up to The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue (2020).
In 16th-century Spain, Maria seduces a wealthy viscount in an attempt to seize whatever control she can over her own life. It turns out that being a wife—even a wealthy one—is just another cage, but then a mysterious widow offers Maria a surprising escape route. In the 19th century, Charlotte is sent from her home in the English countryside to live with an aunt in London when she’s found trying to kiss her best friend. She’s despondent at the idea of marrying a man, but another mysterious widow—who has a secret connection to Maria’s widow from centuries earlier—appears and teaches Charlotte that she can be free to love whomever she chooses, if she’s brave enough. In 2019, Alice’s memories of growing up in Scotland with her mercurial older sister, Catty, pull her mind away from her first days at Harvard University. And though she doesn’t meet any mysterious widows, Alice wakes up alone after a one-night stand unable to tolerate sunlight, sporting two new fangs, and desperate to drink blood. Horrified at her transformation, she searches Boston for her hookup, who was the last person she remembers seeing before she woke up as a vampire. Schwab delicately intertwines the three storylines, which are compelling individually even before the reader knows how they will connect. Maria, Charlotte, and Alice are queer women searching for love, recognition, and wholeness, growing fangs and defying mortality in a world that would deny them their very existence. Alice’s flashbacks to Catty are particularly moving, and subtly play off themes of grief and loneliness laid out in the historical timelines.
A beautiful meditation on queer identity against a supernatural backdrop.Pub Date: June 10, 2025
ISBN: 9781250320520
Page Count: 544
Publisher: Tor
Review Posted Online: March 22, 2025
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2025
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
PERSPECTIVES
PERSPECTIVES
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
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