A riveting premise replete with creative world-building and novel imagery. The book also dives into reckonings with fate... (May 2007)
Many authors have a tendency to cover up a conspicuous lack of plot with lots of flowery writing. With Michael Scott’s The Alchemyst, and indeed his entire The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series, there is no such danger. The book is relentlessly plot-driven, with a reliable yet compelling premise: the world is about to end, and only the teenage protagonists with magical powers can save it.
Twins Josh and Sophie Newman are living ordinary lives in San Francisco, working summer jobs at a bookstore and cafe across the street from each other, when the world as they know it is shattered. One day, Josh emerges from the bookstore’s cellar to see his employer, Nicholas Flamel (alias Nick Fleming), engaged in a mindblowing magical battle with Dr. John Dee. Dee, a magician with unbelievable powers and sinister goals, wreaks havoc in the shop in an attempt to steal the Codex, a millennia-old book that holds the spells needed to bring about the destruction of the human race. Suddenly, the Newmans are awakened to a reality where magic exists and beings of myth walk the earth, and are forced to flee with Flamel, who helps them harness their latent powers.
Prior to reading this book, I thought I’d seen all possible forms of magic powers (wands, elemental control, psionic abilities, super strength, flight, etc.), but Scott brings an enchanting new option to the table. The magicians in The Alchemyst draw power from their auras—yep, those things that you can get photographed in new-agey studios that look like rainbow clouds—imbuing them with a personal smell and color. Those with powerful auras can shape and bend them to their will, channeling their own energy into a tangible form. Scott’s innovation makes for captivating imagery as well: aura drips from outstretched fingers, forms spinning balls of light, lashes out in glowing whips, and pulses, halo-like, around its controller.
I loved how Scott pulls liberally from history and mythology in crafting his characters, tying together legends from all over the world in an intricate web that emphasizes the pervasiveness of magic. Flamel, the titular character and twins’ mentor-figure, is a 670-year-old alchemist (Harry Potter readers may recognize him as the man who discovered the philosopher’s stone), while Dee served on Queen Elizabeth I’s court in the 1500s. Along the way, the twins and Flamel are joined by Scathach, a warrior and vegetarian vampire whose character is rooted in Irish mythology. Hekate, Greek goddess of magic, and Egyptian cat-goddess Bastet both make appearances, too. If you’re going to suspend reality, why not go all the way?
Supposedly, the protagonists are Sophie and Josh, ordinary kids turned world-saving superheroes. Unfortunately, their characters are never really fleshed out. Sophie is portrayed as incredibly mature, smart, and, honestly, a little bit boring. And Josh… he’s the quintessential “teenage boy,” embarrassingly tech-obsessed and sometimes frustratingly impulsive. They don’t act like 15-year-olds, and they’re by turns annoyingly inquisitive and weirdly compliant. Don’t get me wrong—the things that happen to them are interesting. They themselves… really aren’t, and behave unnaturally for people who have just found themselves at the center of a prophecy delivered eons ago. A much more compelling main character lies in Flamel, whose sense of right and wrong is alarmingly gray, and who seems to actually have feelings.
Scott’s writing, though minutely detailed, can get prosaic and a little repetitive. I mean, there are only so many ways you can describe an aura. He doesn’t shy from cliché and long passages of exposition. And while I appreciate the depth of his research, it sometimes feels like he is trying to cram in as many mythical creatures as possible, to the point where many monsters appear as one-time battle fodder and never appear again. Additionally, the dialogue seems a little contrived at times, though it conveys the characters’ feelings well enough. Still, his sensory descriptions lend themselves beautifully to visualization: “The ancient wood snapped and cracked, plumes of white-hot sap boiling up into the pristine air like fireworks,” he writes, describing a tree succumbing to fire. The overall flow throughout is engaging as well, with plenty of punchy, dramatic sentences to keep the tension high.
Overall, Scott presents a riveting premise replete with creative world-building and novel imagery. The book also dives into reckonings with fate and the double-edged nature of immortality, both of which lend complexity to the slightly two-dimensional characters. The six-book series only grows in intricacy and builds to a breathtaking conclusion. More spellbinding twists and turns lie ahead in Michael Scott’s The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series, and I wholeheartedly recommend the books to anyone who enjoys rich, myth-based fantasy.
Comments