I borrowed Jonathan Stroud’s The Amulet of Samarkand from the library because I’d read a glowing review of the audiobook narrated by Simon Jones. When I saw that the trilogy had been completed, I decided to skim over the first book to see if I thought the series might be worth a listen.
I can definitely see that this would work very well out loud, though it also works pretty well on the page, too. It’s mostly told in first person by Bartimaeus, a demon summoned and bound to serve a magician’s apprentice named Nathaniel. Bartimaeus has a very distinct and enjoyable voice:
The darkness cloaking my mind lifted. Instantly, I was as alert as ever, crystal-sharp in all my perceptions, a coiled spring ready to explode into action. It was time to escape!
Except it wasn’t.
My mind works on several levels at once.1 I’ve been known to make pleasant small talk while framing the words of a spell and assessing various escape routes at the same time. This sort of thing comes in handy. But right then I didn’t need more than one cognitive level to tell me that escape was wholly out of the question. I was in big trouble.
1 Several conscious levels, that is. By and large, humans can only manage one conscious level, with a couple of more or less unconscious ones muddling along underneath. Think of it this way: I could read a book with four different stories typed one on top of the other, and take them all in with the same sweep of my eyes. The best I can do for you is footnotes.
The third-person narration of Nathaniel isn’t nearly as interesting, alas, but at least it’s generally quite eventful. Nathaniel summons Bartimaeus to avenge a humiliation suffered at the hands of a powerful and important wizard named Simon Lovelace. Though he manages the summoning, he quickly finds that controlling Bartimaeus is trickier; and when he uses Bartimaeus to cross Lovelace, things get tense indeed.
This is clearly a first book in a trilogy: while Nathaniel grows and learns, he does in the practical rather than the ethical realm, and ethical dilemmas are clearly afoot. This is set in an alternate world, roughly around the present day, but with magic that’s gained only through forcing demons into slavery. In Britain, all magicians serve in the Government (there’s a historical mention of Gladstone and Disraeli having a sorcerous duel), and while this book demonstrates that the system of government is corrupt (and is being targeted by a mysterious organization), I’m more interested to find out whether the next books deal with the problem that the system of magic is also corrupt.
The Amulet of Samarkand moves along briskly, and though in many ways it’s most interesting for what it promises, rather than what it delivers, I’ll forgive it that since it’s clearly labeled as the first book in a trilogy. However, I’ll hold off on recommending the series until I see how those promises are redeemed.
(Nb.: that is not an invitation to spoilers, so if you’ve read the next book(s), don’t tell me what happens.)