I had the vaguely unique opportunity to approach MacGuire's most famous work without any immediate familiarity with his source material. I had neither read L. Baum's original work nor seen the Judy Garland vehicle. Certainly, some of the Oz mythos has filtered down into society at large over the years and I am broadly aware of some of the stories more famous bits.I knew of the yellow brick roadupon which I presumed the entire tale took place. I knew of the ruby slippers, though little more than that such shoes were extant. I knew that Dorothy arrived in a house that crushed a witch and have in mind the image of two spindly legs clothed in candy-cane-striped socks emerged from beneath its deadly weight. I knew of a quest for a heart, a brain, and some other thing. Perhaps a spleen. I knew that the villain melted and suspected it was due to some sort of molecular aquaphobia. And I knew that one ought pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.Oh. And that flying monkeys apparently played some role.With that in mind, I can say that MacGuire crafts a tale that takes a path down a road that with few exceptions is easy enough for even an Oz Neophyte to follow without getting lost. I did occasionally wonder what happened to seemingly significant characters with whom the narrative seemed to grow weary and decided to abandon outright, never to be seen again. Case file: the Scarecrow and the Woodsman. Both seem to carry some narrative force and even feature prominently in the prologue. But Macguire leaves them apart and away from Dorothy and Elphaba near the climax and never returns to them or their presumed plight. I was not quite sure of their function in the story then save perhaps because lore required their presence.But other wise, yes. Wicked carves a narrative path that is simple enough for even a newcomer to follow. Unfortunately, the pathwhich began in earnest and promised great sights and breathtaking vistasbecomes dull and plodding and any number of things that a desirable trek would hope to avoid. Plainly then? Wicked loses steam in its first third and never regains its spirit. It becomes, in a word, boring.I was engaged-if-perplexed in the first section, in which we are introduced to the infant Elphaba and her deleteriously bankrupt family. I was excited throughout her college years as she first learns to relate (or attempts to do so) with classmates and experiences tastes of the wider world of ideas and ideals. This second section of MacGuire's journey is easily his strongest work here and he creates a likable, mischievous cast with which Elphaba might parry and riposte. He hints at great things to come and struggles for which Elphaba and her friends have only just begun to take up arms. Unfortunately, it all falls apart immediately upon Elphaba's abandonment of her education.Not only does Elphie cease to develop in constructive ways, but her story becomes a shambles, never gaining the traction required to make the reader care. Oh, there are moments that hint of the things that could have beenthe elephant queen, Liir's involvement with the great fish, Nor's experience of flight. Alas, these all remain as undeveloped and unevolved as the philosophical content at which the novel toys (the level of thoughtfulness is comparable to what one might find in a dormroom in which five college sophomores launch into outspoken dissertations on the nature of our reality fueled only by second-rate marijuana and a subconscious desire to feel important).MacGuire's Wicked is, in the final reckoning, deeply unsatisfying. Which is really too bad as the book is as long as a Harry Potter tomeonly minus the fun.

I enjoyed reading Wicked, but found it perplexing. Maguire's Oz is a complex, political society, and his Wicked Witch Elphaba and her contemporaries are fascinating, moving, original characters--but the landscape and people are so far removed from their base story that the purpose of the reimagining, reworking seems lost to me. There's no particularly compelling reason to set this novel in the framework of Baum's Oz story; it doesn't gain anything by the association and it doesn't lend any insights to The Wizard of Oz, or the movie version either. It would have been a stellar standalone novel, but as a riff on TWoO I feel it fails. Read Jane Smiley's A Thousand Acres and compare it to its source King Lear--it's similar enough to Lear in plot and characterization to be recognizably the same story, but her updated Goneril and Regan are given plausible motivation for their evil behavior, and Cordelia's saintliness, originally fairy-tale fodder, survives in more believable hypocrisy; this makes it interesting, the interplay between new interpretation and original work. Watch Clueless and then read Emma. Watch Bridget Jones's Diary and compare it with Pride and Prejudice. The similarities highlight the differences: a good reworking has enough resonance with the original to enhance meaning or warp it creatively. The problem with Wicked is that there's not enough character or plot similarity to lend any significance to the reworking: Maguire's unrecognizable Dorothy is a clueless, hateful bitch; Glinda is some kind of deluded sorority girl, and the events of the Wizard of Oz timeframe, (once the plot finishes its excellent backstory,) don't ring true because they have exactly nothing to do with the story we know barring the names. It's a completely different story that could have been an excellent standalone novel on its own: change all the proper nouns and knock off the final quarter and it's stellar. Elphaba's tale is fascinating on its own, it's ill-served by the strained connection.

I received my copy of this book as a Christmas present from a teacher and friend, and I had no idea that it would turn out to be one of my favorite books and favorite authors. My mother had brought me up loving the stories where the told the other side of the tale, that tried to explain that things aren't so black and white, and maybe there's a good reason for the "villain" to be doing what she's doing. Things like Fractured Fairy Tales from Rocky and Bullwinkle, and The True Story of the Three Little Pigs were what I'd grown up with.Wicked does an awesome job of painting a back story, motive and reason for misunderstanding and mistrust that takes the Wicked Witch of the West from being a two dimensional villain in a children's book, and turns her into a person you can understand and maybe even sympathize with. It adds layers of politics to this magical land of Oz, it transforms Glinda from being a fluffy happy ball of pink cotton candy with magical powers into someone who stepped into a role within the political game in the name of trying to balance things out. It remembers parts of the original book that the movie left out, it introduces us to characters we would have missed if we'd just seen the movie, it teases the parts of the movie we winced at (Glinda's pink dress, anyone?) and reconciles differences Hollywood saw fit to just throw out the window.In addition to being a book I so love, it also spawned a Broadway show with an awesome soundtrack that gets regular rotation in my music play list. ^_^

I have a confession: I wanted to read this book because I saw the Broadway show, and the idea of a Broadway show based on a book based on a movie based on a political satire intrigued me. I heard the book and the show were quite different, so I wanted to see the difference.The biggest difference is that the show is good, and the book is not. I don't want to be mean to the poor author (Gregory Maguire), who has made a fortune and franchise from this book and ones like it, but it's absolutely terrible. It's a fantastic idea, mind you, but the execution is... embarrassingly bad.Oftentimes, I read a book and see ways I could never be a writer: the word choice, the cadence, the picture and world and emotions the author paints with language -- the distance between my ability to write a little song and, oh, Mozart.This book, however, had me thinking differently. It had me thinking, "um, dude, I could totally do that." The characters are flat and stereotypical, the plot is jumpy and contrived, the dialogue is ridiculous, the tone is wildly inconsistent... when it tries to be funny it winks too much, when it tries to be a political tale it's too obvious, and... I could go on and on about its badness.Take this passage, for example. Not only does it read like the author is framing each paragraph around a $5 word, but also the construction is, well, a little juvenile:"Journalists, armed with the thesaurus and apocalyptic scriptures, fumbled and were defeated by it. 'A gulfy deliquescence of deranged and harnessed air'... 'a volcano of the invisible, darkly construed'...     To the pleasure faithers with tiktok affections, it was the sound of clockworks uncoling their springs and running down at a terrible speed. It was the release of vengeful energy.     To the essentialists, it seemed as if the world had suddenly found itself too crammed with life, with cells splitting by the billions, molecules uncoupling to annihilation, atoms shuddering and juggernauting in their casings.     To the superstitious it was the collapsing of time. It was the oozing of the ills of the world into one crepuscular muscle, intent on stabbing the world to its core for once and for all.     To the more traditionally religious it was the blitzkrieg of vengeful angel armies, the awful name of the Unnamed God sounding itself at last--surprise--and the evaporation of all hopes for mercy.     One or two pretended to think it was squadrons of flying dragons overhead, trained for attack, breaking the sky from its moorings by the thrash of tripartite wings.     In the wake of the destruction it caused, no one had the hubrir or courage (or the prior existence) to lie and claim to have known the act of terror for what it was: a wind twisted up in a vortical braid.     In short: a tornado."I mean, dear god! This is what trying too hard reads like.The thing that really hurts about this book is that it's such a great IDEA. It *could have been* really really good. I think I finished it because I wanted to see if it ever got good. [It didn't.]What it did do, however, was make the Broadway show that much more remarkable. First of all, the show changes some crucial details to make it, well, better (and shorter), but more importantly, it demonstrates that the musical theater folks saw something through Maguire's dreadful storytelling -- they saw that the crispy, chocolatey center was worth exploring. So they're already better musicians than me. Given the arc of the Broadway show, they're better writers than Maguire.I put this book down when I was finished, a bit disappointed in myself for persevering. I picked up Rushdie's The Ground Beneath Her Feet and read the first page. That first page was, by itself, better written than the entirety of Wicked.If you have any interest in this book, watch the original movie, read the book, then immediately go see the Broadway show with the original cast. That's right, the only decent way to experience this book is with time travel. Good luck.

Instead of my usual griping style, we'll do this review in list form.Things That I Really Wish Gregory Maguire Had Bothered To Explain That Might Have Made Wicked Worth Reading:-Why Elphaba is green -Why Elphaba cannot touch water-The "Philosophy Club" which seemed to be some sort of bizarre sex club which was introduced towards the middle of the story, and then never mentioned again-How it's physically possible that Elphaba gave birth to a son, but may actually not have, because she doesn't remember it. (Maguire's explanation is that she was drugged up on sedatives for the entire pregnancy and therefore cannot tell if she actually had a kid. Um...listen, Greg, I know you're a guy, but I assure you, there is no drug on this earth or on Oz that makes a woman unable to remember giving birth)-What the hell the Clock of the Time Dragon was, and how it's able to give puppet shows revealing the Deep Dark Secrets of characters' pasts -Why Elphaba wanted the magic slippers so much-The backstory of the Scarecrow and why he hated the Wicked Witch of the West. (The Tin Man and Lion are explained, but I guess by the time he had to come up with a story for the Scarecrow, Maguire had used up all his creative juices. As a result, the Scarecrow just appears with the others at the witch's castle, and even Elphaba can't figure out why the hell he's there)UPDATE: I didn't want to be a jerk about this, but I am forced to deliver the following public service announcement.ATTENTION POTENTIAL COMMENTERS: I appreciate the fact that you wish to take time out of your busy to day to offer explanations for some or all of the questions I posed above. HOWEVER, before you do this, I advise you to read through ALL THE OTHER COMMENTS THAT HAVE ALREADY BEEN POSTED explaining various aspects of the book that I am too stupid to grasp. IF, after reading every single comment, you still feel that you have something really original and startling to say that has not already been pointed out a million times, then please be my guest and post your comment. If not, please be aware that the book's many flaws have already been explained to me by dozens of people, and one more person telling me "it's a really good book, you just have to read it twenty times before you understand MaGuire's genius!" will not convince me to alter my one-star rating in any way.Thank you, and have a nice day.