After watching the movie adaptation of Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass last night, I gave the book a quick re-read today.
The book is better, as it makes more sense and is far less anvilicious. I love the rich strange compelling nature of the world-building and the characters here, and the range of emotions, and the hints at hugely ambitious goings-on. My memory of it is by far the clearest of the series, though I’m not sure if that’s because I liked it best or I just had more opportunties to re-read. I’m likely to go on and re-read the second book, too, though I’m unsure whether I’ll bother with the third, which I do not remember fondly—which puts me in the odd position of not recommending this book, for all that it’s excellent.
(I’ve just noticed that our mass market edition, a first edition of Del Rey’s May 1997 printing, promises an introduction by Terry Brooks on its cover, but contains no such thing inside. I can’t say I regret the omission.)