The Sorceress

I finally had the time to read The Sorceress, and had my fill indeed, at least for the time-being until I get my hands on the next book. As with the previous books, this third sequel in the fantastic tale, The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel, is an exhilarating ride right from the start, as monsters-in-disguise chase the protagonists through St. Pancras Station to the Sorceress’ escape from Alcatraz. This edition equally brims with mounting battles, surprising turns, unforeseen alliances, and unexpected encounters, on top of endless references to legendary characters, both fictional and factual, if you can handle a bit of information overload. The Saracen Knight, Shakespeare, and Gilgamesh all turn up this time amidst an onslaught of some of the most grotesque creatures to ever emerge in any mythical realm—sea-creatures, flesh-eaters, vampire breeds, the Horned God, wolf-men, and other beasts, dog-like, bear-like, goat-like, and definitely unlike we’ve ever seen before. Even the fabled Virginia Dare and Billy the Kid make their devious appearance alongside the enemies, as well as "normal-looking humans which are "the most frightening of all" for Josh Newman. I’m very curious about how this incredible epic will be translated onto the big screen. I’m hoping that the filmmakers come close enough to Scott’s literary creation and not lose the story in its immensity, which seems common to big productions getting too caught up in their hullabaloos.

As the race to save or destroy mankind heats up, the Flamels still haven’t recovered the book of Abraham the Mage from their adversary, the English Magician, and so continue to age significantly and weaken. Meanwhile, their time to protect the human race runs grim as the summer solstice, Litha, draws near. On that day, the twins’ auras will have reached their full strength as the barriers to the Shadowrealms weaken, thus enabling the Dark Elders to unleash inconceivable horrors to wipe out humanity and reclaim the world. Sure enough, Dee and Macchiavelli get desperately busy in their pursuit of the Flamels, the twins of legend, Sophie and Josh, and the last two pages of the codex for the Dark Elders, or risk their own immortalities. But of course, the Alchemist and the Sorceress have other plans than to simply surrender or drop dead. As Perenelle attempts to escape the monster-infested prison through her cunning and great sorcery, Nicholas must prevail in having the twins fully trained in elemental magic before it’s too late. But their next lesson is with a mad, old King, which could be quite troublesome. Even more problematic is the twins’ growing distrust of the evasive Alchemist, which surely doesn’t help ease the situation, though it certainly makes for a more intriguing plot. Then, there’s Clarent, Excalibur’s twin sword, to further complicate the matter. As Josh slowly realizes Clarent’s dark influence, Dee’s desire for it only deepens, especially since he already possesses the other blade. And while the strengths of both swords are unmistakable, the force that they could yield together is unthinkable, particularly in the hands of one with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and power, like the Magician. The swords' existence poses a new question: could they be the prophesied “two that are one”?

Deeper twists unravel as the events in this blazing saga unfold—events that surely don’t come without a fight. Yet even with its never-ending battles, at the heart of this fascinating story are timeless themes that reveal humanity's ongoing inner struggles for hope in the darkest hours, perseverance through the most difficult obstacles, courage against the most formidable foes, empathy for even the most dubious characters, forgiveness for the grossest wrongs, a chance of redemption for the offender, trust even when no one seems worthy of it, loyalty amidst great uncertainty, the bonds of families and friendships, and ultimately, the good of mankind, not self-preservation, but a genuine concern for life. Like all other insightful narratives, this story challenges the conventional view and blurs the line between good and evil. Michael Scott has yet again brewed an enchanting concoction, a true “conjugation”, a perfect equilibrium of magic and history, because “at the heart of every story is a grain of truth.”

Teen Spirit?

Makes me wonder how a teen could get to a point where he likens a child to a piece of burger, or how another could be so curious about how it’s like to take a child's life. At what point did sanity cross over the threshold to insanity in their minds? What happened to these adolescents’ psyches, or consciences?

The Secrets of The Immortal Nicholas Flamel

I’ve gone to L.A. several times, but not San Francisco, yet. Listed in my tall order of fascinating places to visit, the home of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Fisherman’s Wharf, and streets that brim with art culture and quaint and quirky stores enthralls me as much as stories that take place there. Incidentally, Michael Scott has convincingly crafted such setting in the fantastically fast-paced and fascinating tale, The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Alchemyst, and its sequel, The Magician, which takes place in another sure stop I’ve also yet to take.

Now, I’ve read countless books, 99% of which I haven’t written reviews for—from Matthew Arnold's Essays in Criticism to Emily and Poe’s anthologies, to Jonathan Strange, Wicked, and The Undomesticated Goddess; to Narnia, Magyk, The Lightning Thief, Charlie Bone, Harry Potter, and much more in between, such as the writings of Beatrix Potter, Tim Burton, William Steig, Mo Willems, Avi, and myriad other brilliant authors. A common line often used in book reviews, I’ve noticed, is “this is the next thing to…or if you like so and so, you’d dig this and that…” But that’s just too easy. I don’t want to apply those clichés except maybe in classifying genres. In this case—this story involving modern-day American twins, a 14th century French alchemist, the immortal Nicholas Flamel, and his wife, the sorceress Perenelle, and a host of other intriguing mythical and historical figures enmeshed in a familiar theme that is the battle between good and evil—I refuse to report that this is the next thing to read if you’ve gone through a withdrawal period from Harry Potter or just because you’re into Twilight.

The Alchemyst is truly engaging, period—Harry Potter or not. Michael Scott surely captivates with engrossing details, magic, and adventures that unexpectedly transpire for two fairly ordinary teens, Sophie and Josh, a part-time coffee shop attendant and a book store clerk. The story begins with Sophie in the middle of a typical tête-à-tête on her cell phone at the cafe and Josh filing books across the street, in a bookshop owned by Nick Fleming, who is really Nicholas Flamel in disguise, when mayhem suddenly strikes with the stink of “rotten eggs”, emitted by the wicked, English magician, Dr. John Dee, who manages to steal an ancient text, the codex of Abraham the Mage, from Nick’s guardianship, but only after Josh has fortuitously snatched its two most significant pages. Next, the teens are swept along a mad flight with the French magicians and a vampire ally named Scathach. Nicholas must retrieve the magical book to protect the twins, whose destiny intertwines with the fate of the entire world, and stop Dee from summoning the evil gods of the Elder race, the dark elders who’ll either enslave or destroy humanity and ultimately rule the world. Nicholas must also recover the codex to prevent Dee, whose immortality had only been granted by a dark elder in return for total servitude, from acquiring the secrets of the elixir of life hidden in the book. The alchemist and his wife, themselves, need the ever-changing spell for immortality, for without it, they age and weaken about a year’s worth each day.

Brewed with enchanting humor, horror, as well as depth and smart references—from Queen Elizabeth, Shakespeare, and Beowulf to The Simpsons, Shrek, and Superman, brace yourself with The Alchemyst’ magic and follow Nicholas and his allies in their pursuit across magical realms, amidst very curious and dangerous creatures, like Hekate, the Crow Goddess, and the Witch of Endor, to form new alliances and get the twins’ magical aura awakened.

The riveting adventure continues in Paris, in the spellbinding sequel, The Magician, wherein fiends, like the Italian immortal, Machiavelli, the beast, Niddhog, and the war god, Mars, among others, wreak havoc and formidable new allies continually beguile. You’d never dare imagine the Eiffel tower in the same light as Joan of Arc’s husband, Saint-Germain, has. As the alchemist aptly puts, [Humans use but a tiny percentage of their senses. They barely look, rarely listen, never smell, think that they can only experience feelings through their skin. But talk—oh, do they talk, which makes up for the lack of use of their other senses]. But whereas “Desperate men do stupid things,” says Saint-Germain in referring to Machiavelli and Dee, who, like the dark elders, only see “the humani”, or humans, as “a bunch of people”, “slaves”, or “food”, “Stupid men make mistakes," replies Nicholas, who see “individuals, with worries and cares, with family and loved ones, with friends and colleagues”. The alchemist clearly sees “people”; I wish politicians had the same view. But for now, we have a truly enchanting tale to follow—from the Warrior Maiden's dojo, to Hekate's Shadow Realm, where the Yggrasil thrives, to Ojai, where Sophie learns the Magic of Air, to Alcatraz, where Perenelle teams up with Juan Manuel de Ayala's ghost and Areop-Enap against the sphinx, and the Morrigan, to Rue du Montmorency, where Nicholas and Perenelle once lived, and to the catacombs of Paris, where the sleeping God lies awake. I can hardly wait for the third sequel, The Sorceress, and set off for London, where the magic continues.

Heck: Where The Bad Kids Go

Imagine getting trapped in a nightmare where you're on the run from your pursuers—the mall security and a foe so foul that it could only be, well, your worst enemy and no, it's not your wicked stepmother or vicious aunt either, but the one who loathes you for no reason, the bully Damian—and you haven't the faintest idea how you got into this mess, especially when it's virtually impossible for you to even get into the slightest mischief, since you're basically a good person with glasses, who intends to stay out of trouble by immersing yourself in everything nice and intellectual, like your books. And your name is Milton—even Harry Potter has a better chance in life more than you. You're just Milton, not a wizard. Anyhow, you're caught in the middle of a blind escapade, where you're suddenly thwarted by a giant marshmallow bear towering over a mall's main hall. So, your ruthless enemy wastes no time in blasting the colossal treat to destroy you. Apparently, he succeeds and, in a massive explosion, you go down in quite literally a rapid descent into a hellish place called Heck, which is a great deal more horrendous than your revolting foe. In short, your nightmare doesn't end, since it isn't really a nightmare to begin with. It's real. In fact, everything that's transpired in one continuous, uncontrollable, rapid flow of events is real, and Heck is where you really get banished for your misdeeds prior your ill-fated death, even if you were genuinely as sweet as an oversize melted marshmallow your whole life. The fact is you stole something, even if you were tricked and are truly innocent. Therefore, you're damned like a regular imp, because "the Big Guy doesn't grade on a curve…" and "your last sin is typically your greatest…with no chance to redeem yourself with your sticky end". And it only gets worse. You're supposed to survive this nightmare called the rest of your life in the company of a total mischief in the person of your sister, Marlo. This blue-haired Goth, who delights in dark stuff and exploits, and steals out of sheer enjoyment and simply because she can, was also the punk who fooled you, plucked you out of your comforts, dragged you into her capers, inadvertently died with you in the explosion, and ultimately got you into this appallingly huge Heck of a mess. But you've no choice but endure this wretched place with her roguish presence, as well as the demonic principal, Bea "Elsa" Bubb, and her monstrous minions, including a hair-net donning, hairless cafeteria witch that boasts "hairy moles and weeping boils" and relentlessly serves overcooked brussel sprouts that resemble "wilted globs of pale green snot" for a nourishing after-life lunch. To top it off, the nasty vermin, Damian, who maliciously blew you up above ground has now followed you underground. Meanwhile, you feel like the vermin, yourself. You're only eleven years old with a fuzzy ferret named Lucky. And, again, you're just Milton. The only consolation you have is meeting a clumsy character, Virgil, who becomes your buddy, the possibility of your sister's unlikely allegiance to you, and a slim chance for escape, and still, perhaps, a little bit of luck.

So, journey through this ludicrous limbo where time doesn't exist, yet you get punished for coming late to your first day of "disorientation" and where issues are thoroughly dealt with in the "Department of Unendurable Redundancy, Bureaucracy, and Redundancy". David E. Basye definitely brewed a wacky and wicked juvenile version of "H-e-double hockey sticks" seasoned with mythical and historical characters such as Ammit, Annubis, Pemberton, Nixon, and Dior, among several other curious creatures. This book surely has the mental energy and verbal acuity of youth nicely wrapped in both profound and confounding thoughts. Heck is highly entertaining and an absolute treat for younger bookworms yet reflective enough for more mature readers. For all those who have Peter Pan Syndrome like Basye (Life with Children: 'Heck' A Vivid Success) or have simply forgotten how it is to feel young again without loosing any sensibility, here's an excerpt for you:

"And for the first time in his life—and death—Milton enjoyed being different. He felt free: free from caring what people thought, free to choose his own path…All our days are numbered, he thought before drifting off into unconscious bliss, but that number is infinity."

Enough said. Here's a link to author, Dale E. Basye, for more info.

Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince, finally!

As August approaches, I've barely just come around from my haze and grumbles about the crazy holidays to start to inhale July-- it's fireworks, sand and waves at the beach, ben and jerry's ice cream, and the dark knight, which I haven't seen yet, don't ask me why, but I was so sure as the next person awaiting the big batman and the madman, joker, that I wouldn't heave another breath until I see it on the big screen. I guess I'm just a bit more preoccupied with fall...awaiting halloween and the half-blood prince...

And then he shows up for the first time today. Here he is in a teaser trailer-- the half-blood prince! Well, of course it's really Harry Potter and him, for technicality. But that's already understood. So, go on with it. Enjoy the preview and whet your appetite that you may anticipate more intensely the day you can ingest the entire thing. It's only 144 days until November 21! It will be immense, regardless of differing opinions.