Beaumont & Beasley, Book 1 Some people will call this a "Beauty & the Beast" retelling, which it definitely isn't. (Indeed, that tale is specifically referenced as a story within the text.) Instead, it's a wonderful fantasy adventure that uses elements and iconography from that classic fairytale (among others) to tell a fun and whimsical new adventure. Like one of my favorite TV miniseries (The Tenth Kingdom) this first in a new series of books is set in the fairytale kingdoms many years after the famous events. Except in this case, thousands of years have passed, causing the tales to become legends many no longer believe in. One such skeptic is Nick Beasley: a so-called "magical detective" who makes it his business to debunk instances of supposed supernatural occurrences. And he barely gets paid for his efforts. "The Beast of Talesend" describes what happens when Beasley gets caught up in events that prove to him the existence of magic without any room for doubt, and places him firmly in the role of sorting out some of these mystical dangers. While the inciting "twist" comes later than might perhaps be optimal to set up the real story, and is easily guessable by most, I shan't spoil it here for fear of upsetting those who might not have anticipated it. Suffice to say that a certain occurrence forces Beasley to become part of this magical world despite his natural lack of desire. What makes this book so entertaining is not simply the "updated fairytale" nature of it (which we've seen before - if not specifically in this form) but rather the pace, the wit, and the loveable characters. The setting itself is vaguely described - being a sort of "timeless modern" in nature - in a part of the Afterlands transparently modeled after the United Kingdom (with Wales being habitually overlooked again) that clearly expects us to imagine something classic and yet contemporary at the same time. This follows through to the tone, where Beasley's dry acerbic nature clashes with Cordelia's Jane Austeny plucky-yet-occasionally-proper adventurous spirit. The dialogue and the first-person narration are easy to read without feeling as though the text has been too modernized for our ears. The plot is fairly basic, and the villain archetypal rather than layered, but this is all in the service of setting up a fairytale-based world and Beaumont and Beasley's place in it, while moving through a rollicking adventure quest. Might I have preferred a more complex story worthy of telling in itself? Perhaps (though future installments may yet provide such a creature) but for a book intended to set up a world, a tone, and designed to emphasize the roles and functions of a specific set of characters, it does its job pretty much exactly right. And yet because of this book's (deliberately) shallow nature and slight story, I find myself unable to give it the full five stars some might imagine it deserves. Being something of a stingy mark-giver, I reserve five stars (usually!) for the most exceptional writings, or those that affect me the most deeply. "The Beast of Talesend" is not striving for such a target, so to not achieve it is a success rather than a failure, in a way. Four stars without reservation, then, for something so entertaining and breezy to read. Looking forward to more from these characters!
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Diversity is important. Now, I don't believe in tokenism, but I do believe in representation. As a straight white male, it is all too easy for me to be blind to the way my 'type' is over-represented in fiction. That most fiction seems to be directly catered to me, to appeal to me, to feature me. But having diversity among your characters is not only about representation; it's also just good drama. What your characters look like might not seem superficially important (in text there is no color) but even if all of the characters are white (or black, or Hispanic, or desi) it is important to make each distinct. Basically, the less variation in the characters' cultural and developmental backgrounds, the less inherent drama there is in their interactions. Why limit yourself? No matter how well you define your individual characters, if they all share so many of the same characteristics then there is much less scope for clashes. For me, as a function of where I live, it is easy for me to create a naturally diverse cast. I simply look at my friends and co-workers and draw from them - as they are from various backgrounds and ethnicities, so will my own characters be. I especially think about the teenagers I work with, since the Sleepwar Saga leads are all teens as well. As I look to real young people I know from which I can extrapolate brand new fictional versions, I naturally will create a diverse group as that is the culture that surrounds me. Were I still living in some of the more overwhelmingly white areas I have lived in before, perhaps I would have to work that much harder to ensure I created a realistically and entertainingly diverse cast of characters. That's not to say I always succeed in my efforts. Only after the fact did I realize that all six of my leads (and the supporting cast of "Straw Soldiers" as well) are cisgendered hetereosexual able-bodied people. Clearly this is an area I will need to deliberately focus on if I want to be representative (and to mine all resources for inherent drama). Actually, one of the characters in "Straw Soldiers" is gay, but as it never came up in the text no one will ever know. What about gender? More than half of the world's population is female, so why are so few fictional characters female? Especially in movies and on TV, but books can be just as guilty. I want to be diverse. I want to be representative. Not just to ensure that straight white men are not the only (or even primary) type that gets stories written for them, but because when drama is all about the way characters clash and interact, why would any writer remove potential for this by limiting the variation among the core cast? But while sometimes this comes easily, at other times I realize how far I still have to go if I want to meet my goals. It's so easy to surround yourself with people like yourself - to write about people like yourself - that you just don't notice how insufficient this representation actually is. And why write it? This is just a question I was thinking about lately, and figured I'd jot down some thoughts. You see, 'genre' is an interesting concept which so many people seem to get wrong. Genre doesn't define content; content defines genre. In other words, no good 'Young Adult' book (since that's the category I'm discussing today) began with the author thinking: "I'd like to write a YA novel. What elements do I need to put in to make it YA?" Many writers do, indeed, think like that. But not the good ones. Writing YA isn't about taking some of the staples of the genre (dystopian future, strong female protagonist, vampires) and figuring out a plot you can build around them. This only leads to inferior fiction. No, instead 'Young Adult' fiction is merely fiction that is about being a young adult. It's about writing your story in such a way that it is defined by the experience of being a teen (or person of similar age). Not about featuring teenagers; rather, it is about being a teenager. The entire subjective experience should be the way an actual young person views and chooses in the world. This is what makes a YA story, not the plot elements. So why write YA? Why is the young adult experience such a popular topic for authors and readers alike? My guess is that the experience of 'coming of age', of being right at the point in one's life where one is transitioning from dependency to autonomy, is simply the most inherently dramatically rich period to form a story around. This is a time when emotions are at their height, when the weight of the future first begins to burden a young mind, when the person they will be for the duration of their lives begins to fully take form. Obviously, this makes for a vast well of story potential to be mined. And adults - who are actually the main consumers of YA fiction - will connect with the material every bit as powerfully as those who are going through the same experience depicted in the story. We have all been that age, and any story that properly conjures up the reality of having been that age will bring us older folks back to when we felt the exact same way. One of my favorite movies is Where the Wild Things Are. It is based on a young children's book, and is about the experience of being a young child. But is not for young children. Oh, there is nothing there that is unsuitable for kids. I just don't think it caters to them particularly. It doesn't speak to them in any strong way, because its purpose is to remind us who have left that period behind of exactly what it felt like to be a kid. What we went through, the way the world treated us. It reminds us of that time, and helps us relate to those who are currently children. Kids don't need that. They're already living it. It's the rest of us that sometimes need to be reminded of just what a fearsome and difficult time childhood actually is (or can be). That's what I like about YA, and why I choose to write it. It is, in a basic way, about being at a time in our lives that defined us, that we struggled through, that we sometimes find it all too easy to forget. And sometimes it has vampires in it. |
J Douglas BurtonAuthor of "The Sleepwar Saga" YA fantasy series. Also Victorian pulp SF series "The Star Travels of Dr. Jeremiah Fothering-Smythe". Archives
August 2020
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