Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

After hearing so many sparkling comments and reading stellar reviews, I was eager to begin Gregory Maguire's novel, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. As I began the story about little Elphaba and her promiscuous mother, her zealous father and the world they lived in, I waited patiently to get to the meat of the story, and the history of a timeless character. Unfortunately, I waited, and waited, and then finally reached the back cover and realised I was still waiting! Even early on, I had trouble connecting with a single character. I found myself not really caring what happened to any of them, but I pressed on. As I did, it became clear that the reason I felt so disconnected was that the characters were equally disconnected. There was no feeling, no devotion, no love, no admiration, no hatred, no disgust. I knew that people were friends because I was told. I knew that Elphaba felt kindly towards Galinda because it was in black and white in front of me. Relationships came forth like Juno from the brow of Zeus; no development of any kind, simply born whole and unquestioned. And Love. Love, the fifth element (if I may be so bold), has no boundaries and follows no set rules. But it has to be nurtured as it's as delicate as it is strong. All true loves are disected and picked apart in an attempt to see how they work. Not so with Elphaba and Fiyero. They simply love. We don't get the chance to know about that first flutter in Elphaba's breast, or the stirring in Fiyero's heart. We have no opportunity to question his infidelity with Elphie, but not with his sisters-in-law. What about this woman makes her so special to him? We'll never know. Nor will we ever understand how Nessarose, the much loved younger sister, is displayed as a tyrant in her world. One moment she is giving out awards at some public event (a very untyrantlike thing to do I add), and the next moment she is a splat on the pavement with a house on her head. Her shoes, her blessed shoes, red and glinting in the sun, a symbol of...what? We're not sure. Certainly the wizard could tell us, but he doesn't. On and on the story goes, dropping characters in willy nilly without so much as a blurb about their importance. We never meet Shell, the youngest and most complete sibling. Nor do we get a firm sense of Liir and the other (more legitimate) children that Fiyero fathered. And while the subject is touched on, no real reason for HOW the Wicked Witch of the West became just that is ever given. What we are given is a healthy dose of politics. Politics that go no where, and compare to nothing. Over all this novel reads like a poorly written assignment handed in by a college freshman who has no experience to draw on or emotions to invest. "Class, today you will select a person from literary history and give them a new life! Make it 300+ pages, to be handed in by semesters end. Hop to it." At the end of the day, I felt no richer for having read this book and appalled that it had gained so much praise. But then I felt perhaps some of the blame had been my own. The title is: Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. It implies a straightforward, telling of the happenings and events in this one characters world. It was simply my mistake to assume I'd discover a vibrant flesh and blood character brought to life in these pages. I've learned my lesson. You can tell a book by it's cover, or in this case, it's title.