The Magicians by
Lev Grossman is not a fantasy book for children. The characters, especially the main character, Quentin Coldwater, are journeying through some dark nights of the soul in search of happiness. The students at the college of magic in this book are not the same idealistic, young witches and wizards that matriculate at Hogwarts. The students at Brakebills are, for the most part, brilliant misfits who have to work extremely hard to master their skills. Their down time is spent drinking, smoking, experimenting sexually and agonizing over their futures. There is no fatherlike, Dumbledore figure to watch over them.
So why did I like this book so much? I enjoyed the characters, both human and magical. I appreciated the slightly sarcastic references to both the Harry Potter books and
The Chronicles of Narnia. As much as I loved those books as a child (and still enjoy them as an adult), the ease in which the characters enter into the magical worlds seems false. And yes, I know this is all make-believe; but it still shouldn't be that simple.
Quentin is a character that is sometimes annoying in his prolonged adolescence. But ultimately, your heart hurts a little for him. His preoccupation with the magical world of Fillory sets him apart from his friends in Brooklyn. Once at Brakebills, he makes friends and discovers that his joke store magic is all show and no substance. He works hard and learns, he undergoes trials, he suffers pain.
This is not a light book, not a foray into a magical world where nothing truly bad will happen.
The Magicians is a story that will haunt you.
