King Raven, Part 2

Title: Scarlet

Series: The King Raven Trilogy #2
Author: Stephen R. Lawhead

Genre: Adult Legend

Excerpt from Chapter 1 of Scarlet:

So, now. One day soon they hang me for a rogue. Fair enough. I have earned it a hundred times over, I reckon, and that’s leaving a lot of acreage unexplored. The jest of it is, the crime for which I swing is the one offence I never did do. The sheriff will have it that I raised rebellion against the king.

I didn’t.

Oh, there’s much I’ve done that some would as soon count treason. For a fact, I et more of the king’s venison that the king has et bread, and good men have lost their heads to royal pikes for far less; but in all my frolics I never breathed a disloyal word against the crown, nor tried to convince any man, boy, horse, or dog to match his deeds to mine. Ah, but dainties such as these are of no concern when princes have their tender feelings ruffled. It is a traitor they want to punish, not a thief. The eatin’ o’ Red William’s game is a matter too trifling—more insult than crime—and it’s a red-handed rebel they need. Too much has happened in the forests of the March and too much princely pride hangs in the balance to be mincing fair about a rascal poaching a few soft-eyed deer.

Until that ill-fated night, Will Scarlet ran with King Raven and his band of merry thieves. Ran fast and far, I did, let me tell you. Faster and farther than all the rest, and that’s saying something. Here’s the gist: it’s the Raven Hood they want and cannot get. So, ol’ Will is for the jump.

Poor luck, that. No less, no more.

A wandering forester scheduled to hang tells of serving a disposed Welsh prince.

The Writing: As with Hood, Scarlet is well-written. Complex characters, intricate plotting, detailed descriptions that don’t bog down. Even more, I especially enjoyed how this book used Scarlet’s own voice to tell his story and his first-person present tense (“I do” vs. “I did”) brings a nice rhythm to the tale.

However, the voice did brings some unique problems, especially in chronology. Maybe the ambiguity was intentional, but I couldn’t tell until halfway through the book whether the other third-person POVs paralleled Scarlet’s present or the time of his story. (For those who wish to know, it parallels the story he was telling.)

I also became irked occasionally by Odo (the monk writing down Scarlet’s story) and his interruptions. Because of it, I was jerked out of the story several times—not just Scarlet’s but the whole book. Yet all those interruptions do serve a purpose. By the end of the book, Odo became one of my favorite characters.

Overall, these problems are only minor, for Scarlet’s voice overcomes them easily. His meandering commentary also often brought comic relief in a tale shadowed by the hangman’s noose.

The Story: Scarlet carries the same concerns as Hood. Although the overall tone doesn’t seem quite as dark, Scarlet continues to reflect the era in all its brutality and crudity.

Also Angharad, the character with supernatural power (prophetic as well as some others hinted at), weaves in and out of the story. It disturbs me some that she seems able to control these supernatural powers at will (more characteristic of Satanic power in Scripture than God’s), but Mr. Lawhead does a fair job of providing a reasonable explanation and those scenes are only a fraction of the novel.

Summary: Scarlet, like Hood, is well-written and entertaining (and for me personally, more enjoyable), but it carries some content concerns. Therefore, my recommendation is the same: If you want uplifting reading, wish to avoid those elements I’ve noted under “Story” (crudity, violence, questionable magic), or are under sixteen years of age, Scarlet is probably not for you. Otherwise, approach with a little caution and enjoy the grand adventure Mr. Lawhead has created.

Rating: 4.4 out of 5

Ready for the adventure? Order Scarlet here.

(Book 1, Hood, reviewed here, and Book 3, Tuck, reviewed here.)

King Raven, Part 1

Title: Hood

Series: The King Raven Trilogy #1

Author: Stephen R. Lawhead

Genre: Adult Legend

Excerpt from the prologue of Hood:

The pig was young and wary, a yearling boar timidly testing the wind for strange scents as it ventured out into the honey-coloured light of a fast-fading day. Bran ap Brychan, Prince of Elfael, had spent the entire day stalking the greenwood for a suitable prize, and he meant to have this one.

Eight years old and the king’s sole heir, he knew well enough that he would never be allowed to go out into the forest alone. So rather than seek permission, he had simply taken his bow and four arrows early that morning and stolen from the caer unnoticed. This hunt, like the young boar, was dedicated to his mother, the queen.

She loved the hunt and gloried in the wild beauty and visceral excitement of the chase. Even when she did not ride herself, she would ready a welcome for the hunters with a saddle cup and music, leading the women in song. “Don’t be afraid,” she told Bran when, as a toddling boy, he had been dazzled and a little frightened by the noise and revelry. “We belong to the land. Look, Bran!” She lifted a slender hand toward the hills and the forest rising like a living rampart beyond. “All that you see is the work of our Lord’s hand. We rejoice in his provision.”

Stricken with a wasting fever, Queen Rhian ha d been sick most of the summer, and in his childish imaginings, Bran had determined that if he could present her with a stag or a boar that he had brought down all by himself, she would laugh and sing as she always did, and she would feel better. She would be well again.

A Welsh prince fights for his life and the kingdom stolen from his father.

The Writing: Mr. Lawhead’s craft in Hood, like in his other books that I’ve read, is practically impeccable. Hood is not a fast-paced read—I could put it down until I reached the last quarter of the book. But the story remained in the back of my mind and would draw me back to its pages when my free time came.

The descriptions in Hood are detailed, but unlike any other author I’ve reviewed for this blog, Mr. Lawhead write them in such a way that the story never lost tension or pace because of it. I cannot recall even one place where the description bogged down and I felt myself sighing and thinking, “Come on. Let’s get on with it.” That in itself speaks to Mr. Lawhead’s mastery of the craft.

My only problem occurred with the large cast of minor secondary characters and numerous places. The unusual names tended to blur together, and because of how names worked in that time period, relationships weren’t always clear to me. I even ended up placing one character in France instead of England. But the confusion rarely impeded my reading, so who am I to complain about such a small point?

The Story: Hood might be a retelling of Robin Hood, but if you have in mind the light Disney movie, forget it. That has not been Mr. Lawhead’s style in his past books, and this version has not been any more romanticized.

As a result, Hood has some strong scenes of violence and general crudity. They’re not overdone, especially considering the historical context, but neither does Mr. Lawhead shy away from the reality. Therefore, although Hood has some humorous moments, a dark tone pervades the books, especially coupled with a plot of treachery and vengeance.

Religion is prevalent, but don’t expect a sanitized version of modern American theology. In keeping with history, both sides use Christianity to justify actions (some of which are quite abominable), and concepts like divine rights show up.

Finally, Hood toys with the boundaries of magic. While the magical is not extensive in this book, a female bard possesses supernatural abilities, which she seems to ascribe to Christ. But it's not clear-cut.

Summary: While Hood is almost flawless in its writing, this isn’t a light, inspirational novel. If that’s what you’re looking for, this trilogy is not for you. Or if magic is a tender spot, avoid Hood. Also, due to the violence and crudity factors, I wouldn’t recommend this for kids under fifteen or for teens of a more sheltered mind.

That said, if the reality of the Middle Ages doesn’t offend you and you don’t mind a character with supernatural abilities, Hood might very well provide a feast for your mind with its detailed world, realistic characters, and fascinating twists on a familiar story. It especially seems well-crafted for guys.

Rating: 4.4 out of 5 (due to content concerns)

Interested? Order Hood here.

(Book 2 reviewed here and Book 3 here.)

Starring Stephen Lawhead

The Christian Science-Fiction and Fantasy Tour has arrived for November, and this week we are featuring Scarlet. Book two in the King Raven Trilogy by Stephen Lawhead, Scarlet is an adult retelling of the familiar Robin Hood legend with the usual Lawhead twist.

Because of the birth of my niece and the Thanksgiving holiday, I didn’t review book one, Hood, in advance as I originally planned. Therefore I will be reviewing Hood tomorrow followed by Scarlet on Wednesday. In the meantime, I highly recommend you check out my standards for book reviews, if you haven’t already as it will help explain why I rate books the way I do.

Then hop over to Stephen Lawhead’s website, which includes the "author's diary" and a cool pronunciation guide, or check out some of the other bloggers (listed below). Due to the popularity of Lawhead, the chatter should be plentiful and varied. So visit a few, and return tomorrow and Wednesday for my reviews.

Trish Anderson, Brandon Barr, Wayne Thomas Batson, Jim Black, Justin Boyer, Grace Bridges, Amy Browning, Jackie Castle, Valerie Comer, CSFF Blog Tour, D. G. D. Davidson, Chris Deanne, Jeff Draper, April Erwin, Beth Goddard, Marcus Goodyear, Andrea Graham, Jill Hart, Katie Hart, Sherrie Hibbs, Timothy Hicks, Christopher Hopper, Becca Johnson, Jason Joyner, Kait, Karen, Dawn King, Tina Kulesa, Mike Lynch, Margaret, Karen McSpadden, Melissa Meeks, Rebecca LuElla Miller, Mirtika or Mir's Here, Eve Nielsen, John W. Otte, John Ottinger, Lyn Perry, Deena Peterson, Rachelle, Cheryl Russel, Ashley Rutherford, Hanna Sandvig, Chawna Schroeder, James Somers, Rachelle Sperling, Steve Trower, Speculative Faith, Robert Treskillard, Jason Waguespac, Daniel I. Weaver, Laura Williams, and Timothy Wise

Is Allegory Dead?

I had originally planned to take this week off from blogging, since we in the United States are celebrating Thanksgiving. But yesterday I read a blog which caught my attention and to which I wanted to respond in length.

In this blog, the writer alleged that allegory is pointless, that in our society it “does NOT ‘reach more.’ It ‘confuses more.’” (To read the whole post—which I highly recommend—click here.)

This especially concerned me, since I write in a genre heavily dependent on allegory and symbolism. So is the writer right?

The Objections

In this blog, the writer makes three main points:
1. Blind eyes have trouble discerning, and therefore will find allegory confusing.
2. Jesus explained his parables.
3. Christ’s parables were not an example for his/her own writing.

Yes, blind eyes have trouble discerning, but is that all bad? Does someone have to understand the whole to benefit from it? And if they see only in part, maybe they will be tantalized to learn of and understand the whole. Besides, cannot God open the eyes of the blind? Might he not use the allegory or symbolism in your writing to provide them the key to understand John 3:16? Finally, if the eyes are truly blind—and the story is well-written—they will completely miss the allegory. How can you be confused by what you never see? And at worst, when they finish the story, there will be a gut feeling that they missed something—which will spur them to go back and read your book again. How can that be a bad thing?

And yes, Jesus explained some of his parables. There are many parables that are left unexplained in Scripture, even if he explained them all to his disciples. After all, that is part of the work of the Holy Spirit (John 16:13, I Corinthians 2:6-16). And if the Holy Spirit will reveal all truth, does that not include the nuggets buried in fiction? For no story, realistic or fantastical or allegorical, will ring true without truth.

Finally, yes, this is probably not the model for this writer. But does that mean it is not to be a model for others? Rather, I think there should be a balance. No, not every book should have layer after layer of symbolism, but neither should every book lack any symbolism. Different kinds of books attract different readers, and if you exclude books with the deep tapestries of symbolism or allegory, certain kinds of readers—both Christian and non-Christian—will be alienated.

The Place of Allegory

So what are the advantages of writing with allegory? Three come to mind:

First, allegory stretches and enriches those who do get it, and unless you’re writing something very strange and obscure, some will understand.

Second, symbolism can deepen the tapestry of the writing, even if the readers don’t get it all. Readers absorb much subconsciously, and it is amazing how smart people can be, if given the chance. How often do readers fail to rise to the great heights of imagination and literacy because we writers do not dare them to at least try? I am not a Harry Potter fan, but those books proved that kids can read very long books—if given a reason to. That was once believed impossible by the majority of teachers, children’s writers, and publishers (or so it seemed at the time).

Third, allegory/symbolism sneaks truth in the back door. The other writer complains that readers are blind and won’t get it. That’s actually part of the point. Allegorical writers don’t want everyone to get it—at least not immediately. Rather, they want the story to lodge in the heart and break out later unexpectedly when the connections are made, whether through personal experience, someone explaining the book, or a connection made with another story/sermon/song.

Writers of Allegory

This naturally leads to the question Brandilyn Collins raised in that same blog: who should write allegory/with symbolism? Not everyone, as I pointed out earlier. Rather, I would consider these questions first:

What’s your genre? Symbolism is much more likely to be missed in certain genres where it’s not commonly found, such as in romances or thrillers. But in other genres, like fantasy or literary work, symbolism is not only commonly found, but it is also expected by the readers. In those cases, if you don’t put it in, the readers will put it in for you.

What’s your target market? Some groups of readers, such as seekers or baby Christians need things explained clearly. But mature Christians steeped in Scripture are more likely to spot Biblical allusions and will relish the deeper parallels to real life.

Do you care if only a few “get” it? Because some will get it and some won’t. If it bothers you that not everyone will see your brilliant parallels, skip the allegory; you’ll only be disappointed. But if you don’t care, go ahead. It’ll likely deepen your work, and some will appreciate the extra lengths you’ve gone through.

Allegory Standards

Finally, this brings us to how allegory should be written. First, don’t overload it. The main story should be able to stand on its own, even if no one ever figures out the symbolism. If the story can stand on its own, then you don’t have to worry about people being confused by the allegory, because they’ll glance over it in their enjoyment of the main story. But if the allegory becomes so heavy it bogs down the story—then you have a major problem.

Second, provide a key. Christ did not explain every parable, but often provided a hint: “The kingdom of heaven is like…” He gives us the starting point, but leaves us to draw the parallels.

Lastly, as I alluded to in the first standard, you must write a great story, one you can enjoy over and over again, even if you fail to get the allegorical story. That’s why C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia work so well. A child can read them and enjoy the story. A teen can read them again and glimpse some of the parallels. A parent discovers that whole second story, and a grandparent gets even more out of them. In fact, you often reread allegories for the purpose of understanding that allegory better. But the story must be good enough to reread and to lodge in the heart so that when the key is provided, the story is still there to be unlocked.

In short, allegory should be like connect-the-dots within a picture. To the uninitiated, the dots are only a part of the overall picture. To the untrained, provide the key and they’ll figure it out. To the trained, they can look and see the connect-the-dots picture, without even needing to draw the lines. And sometimes even the trained will overlook the dots at first because the main picture is so detailed. But when life happens, the reader will see the parallels, thoughts will click, and the dots will connect.

And isn’t that our goal with our readers—whether or not our writing is allegorical?

It's a Girl!

No book review today--my younger sister just gave birth to her first, a girl named Riley. So I've been enjoying being an aunt too much to do any work today. If you don't like it, well...your loss. Babies are just more interesting than fiction.


Me and Riley:

In My Files

Today I was flipping through my old stories. Short stories. Long stories. Fantasy, contemporary, romance, mystery. It is quite a…collection. Here is a sampling:

“The Blue Bubble” was about a girl who finds and loses a blue bubble that can’t pop. Written and illustrated in kindergarten, I eventually revised this story for a middle school writing assignment in home economics. In the original manuscript, I spelled “went” as w-i-t and “tried” as c-h-r-i-d. Hence why spell check was invented.

I wrote “A Wondrous Friend” (now that’s an inspiring title, isn’t it?) in elementary school. About a girl and a horse she finds, the story was submitted to a children’s magazine for a subscriber’s issue and opened with the lines, “Hi, my name is Anna. Would you like to hear a story?” For obvious reasons it wasn’t printed—to my great relief now.

For eighth-grade English, I was assigned to write a short story about 2,000 words long, I think. I ended up asking my mom (who home-schooled me at the time) for an extension in length and time. She granted it, and the sixteen-page, single-spaced story “The Amazing Trip to Canecateeca” resulted. This whimsical tale lives in a special place in my heart even today for it reawakened my love of fiction writing, although it wouldn’t come to full fruition until a couple years later. Unfortunately, I haven’t outgrown that problem with word counts.

February of 2000 found me in late high school and frustrated by a lack of direction for college. But with a few pointed questions from my parents, I admitted to myself writing was what I wanted to do, had always been what I wanted to do. So I sat down and wrote in a week a short story, “Trial of Mercy,” about a young woman named Mercy suddenly showing up to testify on a robber’s behalf by telling a completely unrelated story—or so it seems.

Soon afterwards I began “Healing Haven.” A sixteen-year-old has a dream and when that dream starts coming true, she races to prevent the dream’s disastrous ending. The manuscript eventually boasted a prologue, seven chapters, an epilogue, and 14,000 words. Hardly a masterpiece, but this story convinced me I could write “full-length” stories—novels.

As I skim these stories, smiles and laughter come as does the realization that I’ve grown a lot, both as a person and as a writer. (I know—duh. But actually flipping through that kindergarten story reinforces this in a rather tangible way.)

But even more, these stories with all their misspelled words and bad story structures remind me why I write: I love to tell stories. Always have. And when proposals return with rejection slips and critiques are less than encouraging, that’s a good thing to remember.

Four Levels of Maturity: Infancy, Part 2

Last week we considered the characteristics of infants, both physical and spiritual. But now comes the big question: how does that affect the boundaries of fiction?

To answer that we must first identify the advantages and dangers of this maturity level.

Advantages: Infants are teachable and absorb everything.

Danger: Infants are very susceptible to wrong information/fallacy.

In short, an infant needs truth and lies clearly delineated. Does that mean infants can’t enjoy fiction?

By no means! Fiction often conveys the truth the most effectively. What this does mean is that the boundaries must be set very strictly and must be supervised.

With a physical infant, this is usually not a problem: parents must pick out the stories, read the book, turn on the video. They select what is appropriate for an infant, and any story that claims red is green or squares are circles will be instantly discarded.

Baby Christians, on the other hand, range from preschool to elderly and most of them are old enough to choose what they read or watch, at least to an extent. This makes them unusually vulnerable to fallacy.

After all, how many films advocate disregard for authority, whether parental or otherwise? How often do novels say it’s okay to sleep around? Yet the Bible says, “Honor your mother and father; submit to authority; do not commit sexual immorality.” But a baby Christian doesn’t know the Bible says all those things and doesn’t have the discernment to pick out the subtle messages they’re absorbing even if they do know.

Therefore, if you’re a baby Christian, does that mean you can never read your favorite authors again or go to a movie?

Not necessarily. But you must do for yourself what a parent does for an infant. You must be very selective in what you watch and read. This may mean you need to shelve that favorite author for a while or abstain from certain kinds of films for a period. In fact, you will probably need to restrict your fiction diet to the stories with a clear Christian message that borders on preachiness (not all “Christian” books have that), just like an infant can only drink its mother’s milk at first. I don’t normally recommend that route (click here for why), but because of the dangers, stricter content boundaries are required for baby Christians.

Also, it might be helpful to find mentors who can keep you accountable in this realm and answer any questions that arise, much like spiritual parents. Take them along to movie, read the same book together, ask for guidance and recommendations. And listen. Allow them to say, “No, this isn’t healthy for you at this time.”

Yes, this is very restrictive. It’s supposed to be; the guardrails are set far from the edge so that if you cross them accidentally, you won’t fall to your death.

So drink the milk, grow, and soon you’ll be entering the freedoms of childhood. But more on that next week.

Wilderking Trilogy, Part 3

Title: The Way of the Wilderking

Series: The Wilderking Trilogy #3
Author: Jonathan Rogers

Genre: Mid-grade (8-12) Adventure

Excerpt from “Intruder in the Swamp,” chapter one of The Way of the Wilderking:

A civilizer captured in the Feechiefen. More civilizers on the way with cold-shiny spears and swords and axes and saws. The swamp was abuzz with rumors of new civilizer trouble. When the news reached Bug Neck, Dobro Turtlebane and Aiden Errolson—or Patherbane, as the feechies knew him—left immediately. They poled all night for Scoggin Mound, where Chief Tombro’s feechies held the captured civilizer.

The chill of morning was still on the air when Aidan caught his first glimpse of the towering spruce pines of Scoggin Mound. Well before they could see the island itself, the high, nasally shouts and squeals of a dozen excited wee-feechies carried across the black water to the ears of the two flatboaters.

Then, above the wee-feechies’ shrill racket echoed a deeper, prolonged scream—a scream of fear and helpless. It couldn’t have come from a feechie.

An eighteen-year-old prophesied king struggles to stop the rebellion building in his name.

The Writing: Just like the first two books, The Way of the Wilderking is a great read. Good, likeable characters—I especially enjoyed Dobro Turlebane—and some interesting twists on the familiar story of David’s ascension to the throne of Israel. But the strongest element of the whole trilogy, and especially of The Way of the Wilderking, is the humor. Even if there had been little else in favor of this book, the humor would have still made it a worthwhile read.

The Way of the Wilderking, however, is not flawless. Like the previous two books, it fights the problems of head-hopping (changing point of view within a scene) and narrator intrusion. But at worse, they are a minor annoyance that hardly impedes the reading of this story.

Of greater concern is the ending. This closes out not only the book, but also the entire series, making the impression it leaves especially lasting. And unfortunately, at least for me, the ending was wanting. A wrap-up chapter is necessary, but the epilogue tried to tie up not just loose ends, but the remainder of the characters’ lives. The result was a bunch of telling what would happen, instead of showing what is happening, and the emotional impact necessary for a trilogy’s end was bled dry. I might be wrong, but I think it would have much more effective to tie up the loose ends in the present with a little foreshadowing, leaving the future to the reader’s imagination. Most readers, especially kids, will readily supply the “and they lived happily ever after,” unless given extensive evidence to the contrary.

The Story: Clean and straightforward, The Way of the Wilderking continues the great themes begun in book one, such as simply living the life placed before you, without too much preachiness. In keeping with the story of David, there is a battle and a death of a beloved character near the end, but it is done tactfully, without gore or graphic violence.

The Summary: Although the epilogue is a bit of a disappointment, overall this is an emotionally satisfying conclusion to an entertaining and funny trilogy for all ages.

Rating: 4.3 of 5

Order book three, The Way of the Wilderking, here.

(Don't forget to check out the reviews for books one and two!)

Four Levels of Maturity: Infancy, Part I

Playing with little chubby fingers and toes, listening to the babble of nonsensical words, coaxing out giggles—there is just something about babies that brings smiles and transforms perfectly sane adults into masters of gibberish.

Of course, babies aren’t all fun and joy, as anyone who’s changed a diaper or held a fussy child knows. But we each began as a baby, and as a baby we built the foundation we needed to learn and grow-up, physically as well as spiritually. And since that’s where we started, that’s where our views of the world—and fiction—began.

But before we can understand how our boundaries of fiction are impacted by this stage of maturity, we need to first understand the characteristics of infancy:

Infants are completely helpless. They know little and can do even less. They must be helped in every arena, and if it weren’t for the provision of the adults in their lives, they would die.

Yet, this dependency isn’t all bad. Not a place you want to remain perpetually to be sure, but with dependency comes a deep sense of trust. The concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, even fact and fiction, are completely foreign to babies. What they see and hear and taste and touch are the things that exist. Everything is taken at face value.

That affects how an infant learns in three primary ways:

• It must be concrete. That’s why board books are about fingers, hair, and nose instead of atoms, molecules and elements.
• It must be simple. You don’t tell infants about germs and how they make you sick when they pick up food off the floor. You say, “No” or “Don’t.”
• It must be true. Infants absorb anything new and they have no discernment. If you tell a baby the sky is green, then that’s what they’ll believe even if all the evidence is to the contrary.

Baby Christians have many the same characteristics as physical babies. Fresh out of the darkness of the world, they are helpless, lacking both knowledge and discernment. The line between truth and lies is often blurred for them.

Therefore, this makes them dependent on the mature Christians around them. Is it any surprise then that new Christians tend to take whatever a trusted mentor says as the unshakeable truth, no questions asked?

Finally, Christians new to the faith have a similar learning style as their small counterparts. Abstract theology doesn’t work well—they want to know how does it apply to their life today. And they need it simple: do not steal; do read the Bible. All the reasons why and the gray areas often only confuses and frustrates the infant Christian.

This all leads us back to the original question: How does this affect the fiction boundaries of infants, whether physical or spiritual?

That’s what I’ll be looking at next week.

Wilderking Trilogy, Part 2

Title: The Secret of the Swamp King

Series: The Wilderking Trilogy #2

Author: Jonathan Rogers

Genre: Mid-grade (8-12) Adventure

Excerpt from “Canebrake,” Chapter 1 of The Secret of the Swamp King:

“He’s making for the canebrake!” Aidan shouted over the thunder of horses’ hooves. Both he and Prince Steren heaved their spears, but the quarry was too far away. The great boar hog slashed his way between wrist-thick stalks of river cane, and his black, bristling mass vanished into the blackness of the canebrake.

Aidan and Steren reined up at the verge of the thicket and pulled their spears out of the spongy ground. “I’ll drive him through the cane on the Bear Trail,” said Aidan. He knew he had no chance of spearing the boar amid the close-set cane stalks, especially without the boar dogs. But if he could drive the big hog through the brake to the trail along the river’s edge, they might get him yet. Aidan gestured toward the south with his spearpoint. “You circle around the canebrake,” he ordered, “and come back up the River Trail. I’ll try to steer him right into you.”

Steren clicked once to his hunting horse and bolted down the edge of the canebrake. Steren was crown prince of Corenwald, the only son of King Darrow. But there was no question about it: When he and Aidan were in the forest, Aidan was in charge.

A fifteen-year-old courtier is sent on an impossible task in a wild swamp by a jealous king.

The Writing: I got so caught up in The Secret of the Swamp King that I forgot to note any problems of the story! If that’s not the mark of good writing, what is?

I do know there was some omniscient narrator intrusion, especially when foreshadowing. But that’s about all that comes to mind. The characters are fun. The plot is well-paced—not the sprint of thrillers, but a nice jog—and the humor is wonderful! The Secret of the Swamp King brought many smiles to my face throughout the tale.

The Story: Like the first book of the Wilderking Trilogy (The Bark of the Bog Owl), The Secret of the Swamp King continues to parallel the story of David. As before, it carries wonderful themes of friendship, loyalty, and so much more, without being preachy overall.

The Summary: I have only one recommendation for this book—get it and read it! Age isn’t a factor; young and old alike will find this a great read.

Rating: 4.5 of 5

Ready to take my recommendation? Order here now.

(Check out the reviews for Book 1 and Book 3 too!)