For the next installment of the Lynburn Legacy, Sarah Rees Brennan switches out incredibly interesting codependent mind bonds for slightly less interesting romantic drama, magic and small-time sleuthing. The problem with Untold is that it doesn't quite have room to breathe: rushing from secrets revealed to grand confrontations to the ever-dramatic kiss. |
It's still a good book, mind. A real page-turner. But the stakes never feel quite real, and Kami's Nancy Drew sleuthage becomes less and less effective as pages go on. Part of the problem is that Sorry-In-The-Vale, despite its remarkably rich lore and super cool name, doesn't really have a sense of place. All the characters speak like the same Tumblr post and Kami and her friends are isolated by the narrative in a way that makes it difficult to gauge their place in the community. Kami's newspaper, for example, never really functions except as a device to further the sorcerer plot. We don't see her covering the small-town church bake sale, for example, or passing out copies in front of Tesco's. Sorry-In-The-Vale is a small town. Everybody knows everybody. Even if they all think she's weird or ignorant, the citizens of Sorry-In-The-Vale ought to feel like they know Kami, and know her war, but never do.
Brennan fleshes out Kami and the Lynburns very well, but at times it seems as if their conflict's happening in a town of ten. In Unspoken, this wasn't that much of the problem, because the first book was just Jasper and Kami's story, and could be contained even better in a claustrophobic world. Now that Brennan's expanded her scope, though, keeping Jasper and Kami at the fringes of village society hurts the book instead. It would have made sense if the reason they struggled so much with recruitment was that, well, the villagers don't like them enough to join their side, but Kami and her friends' isolation is never really shown to affect their efforts. The result is that the readers are not completely sure how Rob Lynburn managed to garner so much trust and fear, given that the Lynburns in general are so distrusted, what percentage, exactly, of Sorry-In-The-Vale citizens are sorcerers, why Kami never really tries to get non-magical citizens to leave, or what the rules of sorcery even are.
Still, though, Unspoken has a deft touch with personal relationships, even when it falters on larger networks. The case of mistaken-identity makeouts is a hilarious device that lightens up a lot of the heavy angst of Jasper and Kami's mental breakup and misunderstandings. Brennan's really good at portraying characters' flaws: Jasper's self-destructiveness is predictable by now, but in a way that makes him understandable instead of trite. Ash's desperate need to be liked or accepted by anyone is a very Theon Greyjoy character trait, but one that makes his actions more relatable. Kami's impulsiveness and nosiness serve her well, but she's still very much a kid and has a long way to go till she's grown. The minor characters were great, too: Angela the misanthropic lesbian, Rusty being chill as hell and Holly, who's thrown into turmoil and nearly hooks up with Jasper because she doesn't want to think anymore and really doesn't want to lose her friends.
Rating: Four out of five. It could just be so much better.
Turd rating: Three out of five. Every Lynburn is a turd.
Brennan fleshes out Kami and the Lynburns very well, but at times it seems as if their conflict's happening in a town of ten. In Unspoken, this wasn't that much of the problem, because the first book was just Jasper and Kami's story, and could be contained even better in a claustrophobic world. Now that Brennan's expanded her scope, though, keeping Jasper and Kami at the fringes of village society hurts the book instead. It would have made sense if the reason they struggled so much with recruitment was that, well, the villagers don't like them enough to join their side, but Kami and her friends' isolation is never really shown to affect their efforts. The result is that the readers are not completely sure how Rob Lynburn managed to garner so much trust and fear, given that the Lynburns in general are so distrusted, what percentage, exactly, of Sorry-In-The-Vale citizens are sorcerers, why Kami never really tries to get non-magical citizens to leave, or what the rules of sorcery even are.
Still, though, Unspoken has a deft touch with personal relationships, even when it falters on larger networks. The case of mistaken-identity makeouts is a hilarious device that lightens up a lot of the heavy angst of Jasper and Kami's mental breakup and misunderstandings. Brennan's really good at portraying characters' flaws: Jasper's self-destructiveness is predictable by now, but in a way that makes him understandable instead of trite. Ash's desperate need to be liked or accepted by anyone is a very Theon Greyjoy character trait, but one that makes his actions more relatable. Kami's impulsiveness and nosiness serve her well, but she's still very much a kid and has a long way to go till she's grown. The minor characters were great, too: Angela the misanthropic lesbian, Rusty being chill as hell and Holly, who's thrown into turmoil and nearly hooks up with Jasper because she doesn't want to think anymore and really doesn't want to lose her friends.
Rating: Four out of five. It could just be so much better.
Turd rating: Three out of five. Every Lynburn is a turd.