My apologies. This post has nothing to do with Russia, other than that I am in Russia as I write it. Last Thursday I received a package from a friend, containing (among other things) a copy of Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire. I started it Friday night, and finished it Sunday evening. Over four-hundred pages, and they just flew by. This book was incredible, and I now count it among one of my favorites.
I had never heard of this book before Thursday, although somewhere in the back of my mind lurked the knowledge that there was some sort of Broadway musical by that name (apparently based on the novel, surprise, surprise). When I pulled it out of the package, B and K were watching intently. The receipt of packages at the AH is definitely a communal affair. Is there something in there that can be shared? Oooh, candy. Mmmm, macaroni and cheese. Aha - a book. We can read it when she's done with it. K was disappointed to discover that the book in my package was Wicked. She immediately told me that she had read it and had disliked it thoroughly. She said her boyfriend, with whom she shares tastes in literature, hadn't even finished the thing. But she also mentioned that Wicked seems to be the sort of book that people either love or hate, and perhaps I would love it. Later that day, when I looked up Wicked in amazon.com so that I could link to it over here, I scrolled down and took a peep at the customer reviews. K was right; the book seemed to either score 1 star or 5 stars, love or hate.
When I was young I read all of L. Frank Baum's Oz books (or at least I think I read all of them; I read all that I could get my hands on). Yes, in case you don't know, there's more to the story of Oz than the tale of Dorothy and the Wizard. It has been ages and ages since I've read an Oz book, and my memories are vague, but they're there: images of the Nome King, tales of Ozma, the workings of Tiktok, and of course the classic tale of Dorothy and the Wizard that everyone knows thanks to the wonders of Technicolor. Maguire is definitely a connoisseur of Oz, and the culture thereof that he creates is deftly interwoven with the Oz of Baum. I would like to reread Baum's works in conjunction with Wicked, simply because I am certain there's a lot more reference to Baum than I was able to pick up on.
A simplistic summary of Wicked can be found within its title, for it truly is the tale of the life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West. When you read (or watch) The Wizard of Oz, the WWOTW is the archetype of evil, there solely to thwart the innocent heroine Dorothy. The reader/viewer never really thinks about *why* the WWOTW is so evil, she just is, and evil has to be fought, resisted, destroyed. But Elfaba, the WWOTW of Wicked is far from evil. She's, well, a green-skinned human... and we humans all have the capacity for good and for evil. She defies rules and regulations, attempts to commit murder, joins a secretive terrorist cell in a plot to overthrow the government, practices witchcraft, and commits adultery. But she's also a champion of the rights of minorities, she fights to defend her friends and family, she works for seven years in a religious hospital, she goes above and beyond to atone for her sins, and she attempts to befriend the one person who has been sent to kill her. This passage, taken from roughly the middle of the book, makes for a nice summary of the point it seems Maguire is trying to make:
"Surely there is a handful of nursery marchen that start, 'Once in the middle of a forest lived an old witch' or 'The Devil was out walking one day and met a child,'" said Oatsie, showing that she had some education as well as grit. "To the grim poor there need be no pour quoi tale about where evil arises; it just arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her - is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is at the very least a question of definitions."
Now let's look at this love-it-or-hate-it dichotomy. Obviously, I love it, but I can understand why there are people who avidly dislike it. For starters, it's a fantasy novel. True, it's an educated, allegorical fantasy, geared towards an adult readership, but many people simply do not do well with fantasy stories. These are people require a "real world" setting in order for a tale to be believable. As my favorite books include The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, The Mists of Avalon and The Master and Margarita, I've already firmly established myself in the fantasy camp, and thereby am somewhat predisposed to like this novel. Then there's the sex and religion. Yes, the book has sex scenes. They are not particularly graphic, but they are frank. There's also a bit of discussion about genitalia. There's a lot (a *lot*) of discussion about religion(s) - and of course these religions are Oz religions, not Christianity, although the religion of Elfaba's father definitely contains some similarities to the Christian faith. Essentially, I see this book turning off a lot of closed-minded Christian conservatives. And lastly, there's the terrorism factor. Wicked was published in 1995, long before September 11th, Bush Jr administration, or its need to refer to people/entities/countries as "evil." As mentioned above, Elfaba joins a secretive terrorist cell in a plot to overthrow the government of Oz (yes, the Wizard). I remember numerous discussions in PolySci classes back in college about how and why some groups are classified as "terrorists" while others are considered "freedom fighters." If you support the actions of the group, you consider them to be brave heroes, while if they are targeting you and or the people/society which you hold dear, then they are the Enemy and they are Evil. I can see how this segment of the book could be a turn-off to certain readers (quite possibly the same group turned off by the sex and religion talk...).
I haven't yet decided how I feel about the sequel to Wicked, Son of a Witch, which came out this month. For one thing, I can't remember if there's anything in Baum's Oz lore pertaining to progeny of the WWOTW. I'm not sure why that's important to me, but for some reason it is. Then I worry about the inevitable disappointment of sequels: think about Star Wars or The Matrix, where they really should have just left well enough alone. However, I flew through this book in little over two days, and would have gladly continued reading had the story not been so inconsiderate as to end. So we shall see.
"People always did like to talk, didn't they? That's why I call myself a witch now: The Wicked Witch of the West, if you want the full glory of it. As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention."
I had never heard of this book before Thursday, although somewhere in the back of my mind lurked the knowledge that there was some sort of Broadway musical by that name (apparently based on the novel, surprise, surprise). When I pulled it out of the package, B and K were watching intently. The receipt of packages at the AH is definitely a communal affair. Is there something in there that can be shared? Oooh, candy. Mmmm, macaroni and cheese. Aha - a book. We can read it when she's done with it. K was disappointed to discover that the book in my package was Wicked. She immediately told me that she had read it and had disliked it thoroughly. She said her boyfriend, with whom she shares tastes in literature, hadn't even finished the thing. But she also mentioned that Wicked seems to be the sort of book that people either love or hate, and perhaps I would love it. Later that day, when I looked up Wicked in amazon.com so that I could link to it over here, I scrolled down and took a peep at the customer reviews. K was right; the book seemed to either score 1 star or 5 stars, love or hate.
When I was young I read all of L. Frank Baum's Oz books (or at least I think I read all of them; I read all that I could get my hands on). Yes, in case you don't know, there's more to the story of Oz than the tale of Dorothy and the Wizard. It has been ages and ages since I've read an Oz book, and my memories are vague, but they're there: images of the Nome King, tales of Ozma, the workings of Tiktok, and of course the classic tale of Dorothy and the Wizard that everyone knows thanks to the wonders of Technicolor. Maguire is definitely a connoisseur of Oz, and the culture thereof that he creates is deftly interwoven with the Oz of Baum. I would like to reread Baum's works in conjunction with Wicked, simply because I am certain there's a lot more reference to Baum than I was able to pick up on.
A simplistic summary of Wicked can be found within its title, for it truly is the tale of the life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West. When you read (or watch) The Wizard of Oz, the WWOTW is the archetype of evil, there solely to thwart the innocent heroine Dorothy. The reader/viewer never really thinks about *why* the WWOTW is so evil, she just is, and evil has to be fought, resisted, destroyed. But Elfaba, the WWOTW of Wicked is far from evil. She's, well, a green-skinned human... and we humans all have the capacity for good and for evil. She defies rules and regulations, attempts to commit murder, joins a secretive terrorist cell in a plot to overthrow the government, practices witchcraft, and commits adultery. But she's also a champion of the rights of minorities, she fights to defend her friends and family, she works for seven years in a religious hospital, she goes above and beyond to atone for her sins, and she attempts to befriend the one person who has been sent to kill her. This passage, taken from roughly the middle of the book, makes for a nice summary of the point it seems Maguire is trying to make:
"Surely there is a handful of nursery marchen that start, 'Once in the middle of a forest lived an old witch' or 'The Devil was out walking one day and met a child,'" said Oatsie, showing that she had some education as well as grit. "To the grim poor there need be no pour quoi tale about where evil arises; it just arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her - is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is at the very least a question of definitions."
Now let's look at this love-it-or-hate-it dichotomy. Obviously, I love it, but I can understand why there are people who avidly dislike it. For starters, it's a fantasy novel. True, it's an educated, allegorical fantasy, geared towards an adult readership, but many people simply do not do well with fantasy stories. These are people require a "real world" setting in order for a tale to be believable. As my favorite books include The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, The Mists of Avalon and The Master and Margarita, I've already firmly established myself in the fantasy camp, and thereby am somewhat predisposed to like this novel. Then there's the sex and religion. Yes, the book has sex scenes. They are not particularly graphic, but they are frank. There's also a bit of discussion about genitalia. There's a lot (a *lot*) of discussion about religion(s) - and of course these religions are Oz religions, not Christianity, although the religion of Elfaba's father definitely contains some similarities to the Christian faith. Essentially, I see this book turning off a lot of closed-minded Christian conservatives. And lastly, there's the terrorism factor. Wicked was published in 1995, long before September 11th, Bush Jr administration, or its need to refer to people/entities/countries as "evil." As mentioned above, Elfaba joins a secretive terrorist cell in a plot to overthrow the government of Oz (yes, the Wizard). I remember numerous discussions in PolySci classes back in college about how and why some groups are classified as "terrorists" while others are considered "freedom fighters." If you support the actions of the group, you consider them to be brave heroes, while if they are targeting you and or the people/society which you hold dear, then they are the Enemy and they are Evil. I can see how this segment of the book could be a turn-off to certain readers (quite possibly the same group turned off by the sex and religion talk...).
I haven't yet decided how I feel about the sequel to Wicked, Son of a Witch, which came out this month. For one thing, I can't remember if there's anything in Baum's Oz lore pertaining to progeny of the WWOTW. I'm not sure why that's important to me, but for some reason it is. Then I worry about the inevitable disappointment of sequels: think about Star Wars or The Matrix, where they really should have just left well enough alone. However, I flew through this book in little over two days, and would have gladly continued reading had the story not been so inconsiderate as to end. So we shall see.
"People always did like to talk, didn't they? That's why I call myself a witch now: The Wicked Witch of the West, if you want the full glory of it. As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention."
Green on, Elphie!
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