I’m a kid who has a treehouse that I adore, that I can imagine having magical adventures in and when I grow up I can still look at that treehouse thinking fondly of my memories inside. When one day I find a bunch of teenager’s in my treehouse partying drinking booze and knocking stuff over, ending in them accidentally burning my beloved treehouse down right in front of my eyes.

That is what this book felt like to me whenever people bring up similarities to Harry Potter or Narnia. It may have an outer casing that is similar, but inside it’s nothing, absolutely nothing like them apart from blatantly mimicking them.

And why are the characters so damned depressed all the time(as it certainly moves the story along, only in a boring, monotonous pace)? Quentin’s nihilistic view on just about everything makes me want to put the book down, and just stare at it sadly. Sad little uber smart privileged kid gets all he could ever want and more. And he’s sad because he…. oh that’s right, he doesn’t know why he’s sad, he just is. My advice to him get some anti-depressants and get over himself.

Now I may be missing the point of this book. It may be about the human condition and how magic isn’t really special or all that is cracked up to be. And I admit, I enjoyed the first bit about first getting into the college, but it nowhere after switching to second year. Also no character development of any note.

Last but not least is the pacing, going into great lengths explaining certain parts and then zooming months ahead to the next semester or even year is fine, if you do it once or twice. It was so many times I lost all connections with who these people were. I mean if he were growing up and changing, why the h*ll didn’t he change? He always seemed the same moody kid throughout the entire book with no redeeming qualities to speak of.

That’s my two cents.

Great review!