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Book Summary InformationAuthor: Susan Kay Edition: Paperback Audio: English (Unknown); English (Original Language); English (Published) Published: 2006-03-15 ISBN: 1933626046 Number of pages: 468 Publisher: Llumina Stars Product features: - ISBN13: 9781933626048
- Condition: New
- Notes: BRAND NEW FROM PUBLISHER! 100% Satisfaction Guarantee. Tracking provided on most orders. Buy with Confidence! Millions of books sold!
Book Reviews of PhantomBook Review: A Masterpiece Marred by its Last Act Summary: 3 Stars
All of us have been there, I'm sure. It might have been with a movie, it might have been with a TV series, it might have been a play. Whatever it is, we've all encountered a story that we fell in love with, that we were enjoying, which seemed like a tour de force all through the beginning and middle, and then as the end draws near little problems start cropping up, characters start to act unbelievably, notes begin to sour, the whole production seems to start stumbling. And we soldier on, hoping that it can still recover, because the rest was JUST SO GOOD. But it doesn't, and by the end, it just leaves us deeply ambivalent. "Phantom" by Susan Kay is just such a story. I cannot decide how I feel about it.
Having long been an obsessive over all things Phantom of the Opera (and especially Leroux's original novel), I could not avoid hearing about Susan Kay's much-lauded biography of Erik. Indeed, one would have to be sequestered as deeply underground as our beloved Opera Ghost to miss having heard of it at this point! And although I have developed a great deal of wariness where sequels to established public domain gothic horror/mystery titles are concerned (the plethora of abysmal Dracula follow-ups taught me that lesson well!), the consistently high praise heaped on Kay's novel eventually enticed me to begin seeking the elusive volume.
When I finally found a copy and began reading, all of its accolades seemed justified. Kay's prose might not have been the greatest in the world, but I've certainly seen worse, and I couldn't fault her plotting. It seemed to me that she had taken every obscure, mysterious little reference to the Phantom's past made by the Persian in the novel and Giry in the musical and found a way to work it into a coherent narrative, even finding plausible ways to explain the presence of Erik's mother's furniture in his subterranean lair and neat as well as providing an origin for all of those barrels of gunpowder during the whole "Scorpion or the Grasshopper" bit. I was consistently surprised by Kay's ingenuity in accounting for all these little bits of plot flotsam and jetsam. The only thing I felt any annoyance or confusion about in the first two-thirds or so of the book was her seeming refusal to pick whether she was working in the canon of the original novel or of the Andrew Lloyd Weber play. Just when you think you're in Leroux's world, you find a reference to "mismatched eyes" and "deformed lips," which clearly place the Phantom's deformity in the realm of his musical theater incarnation. The insistence on blurring two very different versions of the character puzzled me.
At least, it did until Kay's narrative reached the events of the original story, and the answer to my question became clear: She was not writing in either Leroux or Weber's canon, nor even in a blending of the two, but in her own. This was not a prequel, but a complete re-imagining.
I cannot stress enough to an outside reader how jarring this felt. There was absolutely no warning, absolutely nothing to prepare me for this. It is the most perplexing thing I have ever seen in a novel. To devote fully two-thirds to faithfully and effectively fleshing out minor details mentioned in another work, details which only the most obsessive and devoted fans would even have thought about or wanted to know more about in the first place, only to completely depart from the characterization and spirit of the source material at the last minute is...well, "baffling" is too mild a word for it, but unfortunately, I don't know what the right word is. It's like listening to "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" and having the organist switch to "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" halfway through without explanation.
This review is beginning to run long, so I'll forgo the temptation to make an itemized summary of all the problems of Kay's later chapters and instead comment on one specific moment which, I think, perfectly illustrates the biggest one: At some point after being taken by the Phantom through the mirror and having only fairly recently finding herself a not-entirely consensual resident of his House on the Lake, Christine discovers that he has not only completely furnished a room for her, but has procured several dresses for her, specifically tailor-made to her exact measurements. And her reaction to this is to marvel at the effort and expense he must have gone to on her behalf, and to feel awed at his love and devotion for her. Ladies, let me ask you a question: If you found yourself kidnapped by a mysterious masked man who locked you in his house and then, in the process of examining a set of expensive custom-clothes that he has gotten for you, realized that he knows *every measurement of your body down to your bra size without you ever having told him,* would YOU react with awe and admiration or would your skin start to crawl? And how do you think the original Christine of Leroux's novel would have responded?
Erik is supposed to be creepy. He is a genius, he is lonely, he is pitiable and sympathetic and all of that, but at the end of the day, he's still creepy. He's a stalker, he's a murderer, he's manipulative, he's obsessed with death. He is not, never was, and never will be anything close to resembling an ideal romantic partner. This is not a small part of his character, nor an obstacle to his appeal; it is part and parcel of the whole Phantom package and a huge PART of his appeal. It's one of the reasons he still endures as a character. For Kay to have become so blind to his essential core creepiness that she can't see it even in scenes where it should be screaming off the page suggests that she never truly understood what draws people to him in the first place. All the more perplexing considering that she burdened her Phantom with a massive Oedipus Complex, which should have been milked for all the goosebumps and repulsion it was worth! (I actually seem to be in the minority of reviewers, incidentally, who felt this was NOT out of place and out of character; Christine and Erik's relationship has always had some borderline incestuous overtones, given both the gaps in their ages and her difficulty in distinguishing between the Phantom, the Angel of Music, and the ghost of her father, so it's only natural to mirror her Daddy Issues by exploring his Mommy Issues. Sadly, this disturbing and potentially fascinating plot point is never truly developed.)
To make an extremely long story short, I still remain deeply ambivalent about this book. Does its early excellence excuse its later missteps? Or does its clumsy conclusion destroy its prior credibility? I still can't decide. I wish I could give this one 2 and a half stars, but I suppose I shall have to settle for a begrudging three, because I did love it up to a point.
If she had ended it after the building of the Opera House, it could have been called a worthy successor to the original novel. As it stands, it's mostly a curiosity piece, and a fascinating study of how even the most meticulously researched and carefully planned novel can end up going completely astray.
Summary of Phantom"Powerful.moving tour de force." says Publisher's Weekly, Phantom "adds.new depth to the [original story].. Haunting and unforgettable.a sensual and.poetic exploration of a man's internal conflict between good and evil and of a search for love amidst darkness and despair."
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