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hrjones's review
2.0
If you're in the habit of reviewing the books you read, and if you're friends with a bunch of authors, you'll eventually find yourself in the position of reviewing a book by someone you know and like -- and whose writing you greatly admire -- that simply doesn't do it for you. For me, alas, The Hidden Queen/Changer of Days by Alma Alexander was one of those books. (Sorry Alma.)
It shall be referred to hereinafter as "the book" (singular) because, as I understand it, by intent it's a single book that happened to be split into two physical pieces for marketing purposes. Since I read the two volumes in a single pass, I don't think this affected my reading.
On the positive side, the world-building is intricate and evocative, the several cultures -- although still bearing traces of the serial numbers of their real-world inspirations -- are nicely varied and fractally detailed. What left me hungry at the end of the book was the relentless passivity of the protagonist.
At the beginning of the story, this is hardly surprising. The title character (both titles), Anghara, is hurriedly crowned a child-queen at her father's death in the midst of a war. When her older half-brother Sif seizes the kingdom, she is bustled off to a series of refuges, each of which is devastated in various ways by the usurper's pursuit of her. Complicating the matter, Anghara (my fingers keep automatically completing the name to Angharad -- must do a global search before posting) has inherited an ability known as Sight which combines features of prescience, telepathy, and a close relationship with the gods, among other things. One of the issues standing between Sif and a legitimate claim on the throne is his mother's lack of Sight, which leads him to initiate a pogrom against all those with the ability, for which Anghara assumes personal guilt. It's a continuing theme that just as Anghara's cause and adventures are advanced largely without her deliberate action, her burden of guilts also comes from events that are largely beyond her control.
The need to evade Sif's clutches while she grows to adulthood and learns to better control and use the Sight drives her into the company of a mystic from the desert lands who becomes a spiritual mentor. Years pass, as well as several rites of passage and encounters with gods. When the time comes for Anghara to return home and reclaim her crown, she falls immediately into Sif's clutches, loses her powers of Sight, is rescued, returns to the desert, encounters more gods, is the catalyst in a cosmic paradigm shift, regains her Sight, returns home, and succeeds in reclaiming her throne.
But throughout all this, when it comes down to it, Anghara herself doesn't really do very much. Initially, the political winds buffet her willy-nilly as one might expect for a child in an adult world. Her experience of Sight is initially more of an affliction than a skill. Later she becomes something of a conduit through which various divine forces work, but there's never any clear sense that she is in charge or has any ability to further or prevent the events she precipitates. In some of the most memorable action sequences, she is physically and/or psychically incapacitated. I kept longing for the focus of the story to shift to one of the minor characters -- any of them -- just someone who would take charge of their own destiny.
I think I had a key insight to why Anghara's experiences don't work for me when I realized that the model of sovereignty that she operates within is that of divine right. Sif's crime in usurping the throne is not one of theft but of blasphemy. Anghara retains the superior claim not through personal ability (at the time of their father's battlefield death, Sif was demonstrably the more able leader for the army and nation) or superior statesmanship (it's hard to tell whether Anghara's successes in that field are from ability or the fortunate chance of the right word or action at the right time ... or driven by the subconscious urgings of Sight) but simply because the right to rule is inherent in her. And she succeeds in reclaiming that rule because she's surrounded by extremely able people who believe in that right. Oh, and because the gods are on her side. (Well, it's a trifle more complicated than that, but I'll leave some surprises.)
I may well be overstating the case for her passivity, but it's the overwhelming impression I was left with. If she wants my sympathy, a character has to convince me that she has a hand in creating her own destiny.
It shall be referred to hereinafter as "the book" (singular) because, as I understand it, by intent it's a single book that happened to be split into two physical pieces for marketing purposes. Since I read the two volumes in a single pass, I don't think this affected my reading.
On the positive side, the world-building is intricate and evocative, the several cultures -- although still bearing traces of the serial numbers of their real-world inspirations -- are nicely varied and fractally detailed. What left me hungry at the end of the book was the relentless passivity of the protagonist.
At the beginning of the story, this is hardly surprising. The title character (both titles), Anghara, is hurriedly crowned a child-queen at her father's death in the midst of a war. When her older half-brother Sif seizes the kingdom, she is bustled off to a series of refuges, each of which is devastated in various ways by the usurper's pursuit of her. Complicating the matter, Anghara (my fingers keep automatically completing the name to Angharad -- must do a global search before posting) has inherited an ability known as Sight which combines features of prescience, telepathy, and a close relationship with the gods, among other things. One of the issues standing between Sif and a legitimate claim on the throne is his mother's lack of Sight, which leads him to initiate a pogrom against all those with the ability, for which Anghara assumes personal guilt. It's a continuing theme that just as Anghara's cause and adventures are advanced largely without her deliberate action, her burden of guilts also comes from events that are largely beyond her control.
The need to evade Sif's clutches while she grows to adulthood and learns to better control and use the Sight drives her into the company of a mystic from the desert lands who becomes a spiritual mentor. Years pass, as well as several rites of passage and encounters with gods. When the time comes for Anghara to return home and reclaim her crown, she falls immediately into Sif's clutches, loses her powers of Sight, is rescued, returns to the desert, encounters more gods, is the catalyst in a cosmic paradigm shift, regains her Sight, returns home, and succeeds in reclaiming her throne.
But throughout all this, when it comes down to it, Anghara herself doesn't really do very much. Initially, the political winds buffet her willy-nilly as one might expect for a child in an adult world. Her experience of Sight is initially more of an affliction than a skill. Later she becomes something of a conduit through which various divine forces work, but there's never any clear sense that she is in charge or has any ability to further or prevent the events she precipitates. In some of the most memorable action sequences, she is physically and/or psychically incapacitated. I kept longing for the focus of the story to shift to one of the minor characters -- any of them -- just someone who would take charge of their own destiny.
I think I had a key insight to why Anghara's experiences don't work for me when I realized that the model of sovereignty that she operates within is that of divine right. Sif's crime in usurping the throne is not one of theft but of blasphemy. Anghara retains the superior claim not through personal ability (at the time of their father's battlefield death, Sif was demonstrably the more able leader for the army and nation) or superior statesmanship (it's hard to tell whether Anghara's successes in that field are from ability or the fortunate chance of the right word or action at the right time ... or driven by the subconscious urgings of Sight) but simply because the right to rule is inherent in her. And she succeeds in reclaiming that rule because she's surrounded by extremely able people who believe in that right. Oh, and because the gods are on her side. (Well, it's a trifle more complicated than that, but I'll leave some surprises.)
I may well be overstating the case for her passivity, but it's the overwhelming impression I was left with. If she wants my sympathy, a character has to convince me that she has a hand in creating her own destiny.
rachel_abby_reads's review
3.0
I liked it, and I want to read the sequel, but it's a bit slow in places as the author has to bring the young girl queen in exile into something like fighting trim to reclaim her kingdom from her usurping half brother.
dei2dei's review
2.0
It's usually very difficult for me to find fault with fantasy books, but I struggled with this first in a duology. There is, as many other reviewers have stated, very little ground for Anghara to be the "true queen", unless we're working off of legitimate birth being a genuine requirement; her half-brother's actions pursuant to taking the throne lend some strength to her claim, but far too often does our bonny protagonist seem far too god-touched and blessed and Special Snowflake-like to win hearts and gain followers on her own grounds - on the grounds of external forces, yes (magic and gods and visions), but simply because of her innate qualities and behaviour? Not so much.
I can't decide if I'll pick up the second one to see if it improves, or not.
I can't decide if I'll pick up the second one to see if it improves, or not.
mkpatter's review
4.0
Books about kings who go into exile and come back to claim their rightful throne: *Drake's oh no face*
Books about queens who go into exile and come back to claim their rightful throne: *Drake's oh yeah face*
Books about queens who go into exile and come back to claim their rightful throne: *Drake's oh yeah face*
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