The Magician of Tiger Castle, by Louis Sachar
Louis Sachar is best known for his children's classic 'Holes', which surprisingly I haven't actually read. I've heard so much about 'Holes', first as a school-age bookworm and now as a teacher, that I almost feel as though I have read it. But I know that osmosis does not count as reading. Neither does reading only the first chapter of a book over and over, which is how I've experienced Sachar's 'There's A Boy In the Girls' Bathroom'. (Many moons ago it was read to us in assembly, but every week the teacher started again...) So when I came across 'The Magician of Tiger Castle', Sachar's first adult novel, in the library, I decided I owed it to Louis Sachar to read it properly.
'The Magician of Tiger Castle' is a fantasy. Set in the Renaissance period in the fictitious kingdom of Esquaveta, it follows the plight of the King's magician, Anatole, as he attempts to make an anti-love potion. Tullia, the princess, has fallen in love with a lowly scribe rather than her betrothed, the prince of Oxatania. Under the King's orders, Anatole must work his wonders on Tullia to ensure that the royal wedding goes ahead without any resistance - but the magician is rather too fond of the princess and her lover Pito to betray them completely. Thus ensues an adventure of potion-making, sabotage, espionage and disguise, in which the forbidden love of Tullia and Pito grows ever stronger. A sweet book, but sadly for me it fell flat.
I'll start with something I enjoyed about 'The Magician of Tiger Castle': it draws richly from late medieval and early renaissance history. I'm a big fan of this period - its literature, its culture, its thought - and it was exciting to see nuggets of socio-history informing the fantasy. For example, court magicians were a real thing: magic was a branch of medicine, and Anatole is quite simply a physician. His potions, though products of Sachar's imagination, do draw from genuine medical beliefs, the Galenic school of thought, and real herbal remedies. It's fancy rooted in reality. Esquaveta had other historical details, too, from its sumptuary laws to its market culture, which made it almost believable. I liked that.
Another thing I (mostly) liked about this book was its overall flavour of fairytale whimsy. It is packed full of fanciful and entertaining ideas, from voice-changing tinctures to immortal pets. Someone hides in a suit of armour, someone crawls through a secret passageway, someone fights off a bear using a wheel of cheese. Although it's an adults' book, it has an undeniable youthful streak; it's light-hearted, energetic and fun. My only critique about this fairytale style was that the whole story teetered on the edge of being far-fetched. It's not only that some of its scenarios were a bit unlikely, but that the plot was very happily-ever-after - to the point of being too perfect. Risky plans always succeeded, rescuers would turn up at the ideal moment, strangers turned out to be long-lost friends. To me, it all felt a bit contrived, and as a result the narrative tension was dampened.
Something else that irked me was the narrative voice. As you'd expect, the whole story is narrated by Anatole, the magician. What's odd is that it's a flashback, recounted from several hundred years in the future. Anatole, evidently, has lived for centuries after the novel's events. Whilst this does add a touch of quirky mystique (how has he achieved this feat?), and some interesting moments of reflection on how customs have changed over the centuries, I felt that the main effect of this perspective was to further dispel the narrative tension. We read knowing for certain that Anatole ends up OK - he literally lives to tell the tale - and every time he breaks off his storytelling to muse on the present day, we are pulled out of the action and reminded that it all turns out alright. This lowered the stakes of every event in the story.
Anatole also narrated absolutely everything with a light-hearted wit. Again, this contributed to the book's overall character of frivolity and fun, and I did enjoy its wry humour at times. But the side effect of this permanent lightness was that it flattened out all the other emotions that the story might have invited. This book contains forced marriage, illegal love, defiance of the authorities, and an innocent man being put up for execution. It deals with big feelings, but all the drama and passion was lost beneath the jollity of the narration, which emotionally seemed to hover at some distance from the actual events.
Now I'm sure this carefree voicing was all part of Sachar's fairytale vision: fairytales are not supposed to be serious or dark or moving, although their content often is. We wouldn't treat Little Red Riding Hood as a tragedy, even though it's all about a child being lured to a cruel and grisly death. No - we tell it matter-of-factly, even funnily, and it charms rather than disturbs our listeners. If this is the effect Sachar was going for with 'The Magician of Tiger Castle', then he executes it very well. It's told sweetly and simply and this is arguably spot on for the genre it imitates. I'm sure many readers would enjoy this cheerfulness, but I personally found it difficult to feel invested in the characters and their trials. I have nothing against a bit of wit, but a story has to matter, has to mean something, and this felt hollow.
Overall, this was a fun, light-hearted, charming novel, full of quirky ideas, interesting history, and cheerful humour. If you're after an entertaining story that isn't too serious, then I'm sure this contemporary fairytale will delight and beguile - but for me it lacked depth, and I was sadly left unmoved.
You can buy 'The Magician of Tiger Castle' from Waterstones by following this link (I'll receive a small commission if you do):
The Magician of Tiger Castle, Louis Sachar - Waterstones
