Long ago, in the land of Alagaesia, prosperity reigned supreme under the vigilant guard of the Dragon Riders. They were the protectors of the country, maintaining peace among humans, dragons, elves, and dwarves. However, the Riders gradually became complacent in their power. It only took the madness of one Rider to bring the entire organization crashing down. Now, the mad Rider, Galbatorix, has been self-proclaimed Emperor for the past century or so. The other Riders are all dead. The elves and dwarves have abandoned the heart of Alagaesia and are working with the human rebels, the Varden, on the fringes of the Empire. In the remote parts of the country, no one alive has ever seen a dragon. Eragon, a fifteen-year-old lad and an orphan, is being raised by his uncle in the foothills of the forested Spine Mountains. One day, he stumbles upon one of the last dragon eggs and takes it home, completely unaware of what it is. When the dragon hatches, she bonds with Eragon, but he has to hide her from both his family and the authorities. An inevitable disaster then thrusts the youth and the dragon into a war... a war that only they can win. Content Advisory
Violence: There are numerous fight scenes, mostly featuring human combatants against what seem like discount Orcs. There is some gratuitous gore. Our hero narrowly escapes from a human sacrifice cult, though fortunately, we don't witness them sacrificing anyone. Later, he comes across a town where all the inhabitants have been slaughtered, and there is a pile of corpses with an impaled baby on top. An elf is held prisoner and tortured, resulting in awful injuries. A young man bears an ugly scar from when his father threw a sword at him. Sex: Eragon develops an instant and intense lust for the elf, Arya. When Murtagh tells Eragon that he is on the run from the Varden, the latter asks if he killed the wrong guy or "bedded the wrong woman." Language: None. Substance Abuse: There is a pointless scene where Eragon gets extremely drunk and wakes up with a wicked hangover. Saphira smugly asks him, "Have we learned a lesson?" Politics and Religion: There is an Ancient Language that contains the true name of everything, and using these words in the proper arrangements produces magic. Evil beings called "Shades" obtain their magic powers from being possessed by demons. There is the aforementioned human sacrifice cult, who worship in a building that Paolini insists on calling a "cathedral." In the real world, "cathedral" has specific Christian connotations, which makes that part of the story rather confusing. Eragon meets a witch named Angela, who rolls dragon knucklebones to tell his fortune. Nightmare Fuel: The aforementioned Shades look like grotesque vampires, with greying skin, scarlet eyes, and sharp teeth. EDIT: As my friend Whiteraven191 notes in the comments, Durza files his teeth, which is even more grotesque. Then there are the insectoid Eldritch abominations known as the Ra'zac, who seem nearly impossible to defeat... Conclusions
Christopher Paolini was only fifteen when he completed this hefty book, which is an impressive feat. However, this book would have been significantly better if Paolini had finished the manuscript, outlined the rest of the series, and put it aside for a few years before returning to it with a bit more maturity. Both the style and the content would have benefited greatly from this. Even a ruthless editor could have been of great help. Unfortunately, Paolini's parents self-published Eragon as it was and promoted it aggressively. Eventually, Carl Hiaasen read it and put in a good word at Random House. This was in 2002, when high fantasy was experiencing a boom due to the Lord of the Rings films. Eragon became a bestseller, buoyed by its aesthetic similarities to LOTR, its cool dragons, and the youth of its author. The book does have its strengths. Compared to other YA bestsellers of that era, it succeeds where many of them fail. It is much more lively than its spiritual sister, The Naming, although The Naming has a lot more depth. It has a plot, unlike Twilight. It has more heart and soul than The Hunger Games, isn't nearly as elitist as Harry Potter or as rigidly stylized as the Lemony Snicket novels, has a much grander scope than Tamora Pierce's Tortall stories, isn't a diatribe aimed at a real-world religion like the Dark Materials trilogy, makes more sense than Inkheart, and never devolves into crassness like Rick Riordan's demigod novels and Artemis Fowl. The main problem with Eragon is the immaturity of the writer, which is evident in its derivative plots and settings, uninsightful characterizations, and bloated prose. Many readers complain that the setting borrows from Tolkien while the plot rips off Star Wars. I can understand where these accusations come from, but I don't think they are entirely fair. While Paolini's dwarf kingdom of Farthen Dur is clearly based on Moria and Erebor, and I suspect that the elf kingdom in the woods will imitate Rivendell and Lothlorien, the rest of Alagaesia isn't that closely related to any specific Middle-earth locale. Tolkien had an incredible talent for establishing setting; Paolini, at age fifteen, did not. Eragon's hometown of Carvahall is the most tangible place in this book, a backwater on the edge of a dangerous wilderness, and you can sense the growing unrest of the people who live there. The other human territories blend together. As for the plot, George Lucas and his collaborators deliberately developed the first Star Wars to be a distillation of the Campbellian Hero's Journey archetype. The plot was intentionally generic, and the color was provided by the space setting and the unique worlds within it. So, if a given story has plot similarities to A New Hope, that alone is not a cause for great concern. If it turns out in Eldest that Durza the Shade was Eragon's father, then we can worry about ripping off Lucas. Paolini's characters only resemble Lucas' in terms of their roles in the plot; they have very different personalities. When we first meet Luke Skywalker, he is whiny and a bit nosy, but overall, he is a sweet lad. Luke's darker side only emerges after the viewer knows what a good person he is. Eragon is no Luke. They share curiosity, but that's about it. Eragon has a very intense temperament, which (understandably) turns into full-blown rage when his uncle is killed. This is where Paolini gains an advantage over Lucas; Luke has almost no reaction to the death of his uncle and aunt, while Eragon is truly devastated by Uncle Garrow's loss and feels guilty because he knows that the Ra'zac were looking for him and his dragon. Unfortunately, Eragon's grief is melodramatic and loud - the way you might write about the death of a family member when you've never experienced it. Grief is a cold, quiet thing that creeps in subtly; sometimes you forget it's there until you come across a memento and it overwhelms you. It is not necessarily constant, and it is more likely to make you sad than angry. We never really see Eragon being sad in a healthy way, and we never really see him forget himself and feel joy for a few moments either. He doesn't feel wonder when Brom starts teaching him magic. His friendship with Murtagh has an edge, and his crush on Arya is also edgy. He never opens his heart even to Saphira, his telepathically-bonded dragon. All of this is fine, but it does make Eragon the character difficult to like. His one endearing quality is his fascination with knots and his hope to undo them someday, which is a nice bit of symbolism. Murtagh is no Han Solo. Han is just trying to get by - beneath his cocky exterior, his heart is three sizes too big. He also has a sense of humor, which Murtagh has even less of than Eragon. Murtagh actually has an emotional investment in the war and avoids the Varden because he fears his parentage being known, not because he is reluctant to commit to a cause. He has a dark, simmering energy that reminds me of Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender. But he is almost redundant because Eragon himself is already a bundle of angst. Returning to the Star Wars comparison, I strongly suspect that Murtagh is Eragon's long-lost sibling, not Arya. Which is a relief because Arya is no Leia Organa, and her dynamic with Eragon is very different from that between Leia and Luke. Leia was stuck-up, but she was also always snarky and upbeat. She was actually able to contribute to her own rescue mission, and her general persona was sanguine and approachable. Arya is an elf, which automatically makes her aloof, but she spends most of the book in a self-induced magical coma, which slows down her character development and doesn't give her the opportunity to bond with the boys and Saphira. There is no hint of attraction between Arya and Murtagh (who seems more interested in Nasuada, the daughter of the Varden's top commander). But there is some chemistry between Arya and Eragon, who attempts to wake her from her coma with magic, resulting in a telepathic bond. The flirtation between Luke and Leia was minor and innocent; even that infamous kiss was really only to make Solo jealous. Eragon and Arya have very different personalities that will hopefully lead to some entertaining friction in the rest of the series. Saphira the dragon is a fairly good character. At first, her thoughts sound appropriately alien, and they become closer to human as the book progresses - which makes sense because she has only been exposed to humans. But towards the end of the novel, Saphira's thoughts simply echo Eragon's; she no longer offers him any insights that he couldn't have reached on his own, and often replies to his questions with "I don't know, maybe we'll find out." This almost makes her seem like his imaginary friend. Brom is okay, but he is clearly a combination of Gandalf and Obi-Wan and never develops his own distinct personality beyond that.
Roran, Nasuada, and Angela are placeholders. They are clearly going to be important later, but there isn't much to say about them at the moment. Galbatorix is never shown in person. His servants Durza and the Ra'zac are suitably frightening, but the man himself and his dragon remain unseen and rather ineffective. There are a few scenes that could definitely have been improved to enhance the archetypal, mythic elements. When Brom , it is rushed - the only rushed scene in the book is the one that actually needed to be drawn out more. I would also argue that Brom should have survived until they reached Durza's dungeon and perished at the hands of Durza, not the Ra'zac. The Ra'zac are certainly grotesque, but they are so alien that it is difficult to even imagine them. We already know that this is rehashing elements from The Fellowship of the Ring and A New Hope, so it seems natural that the mentor figure would die in the stronghold of evil, just as his two inspirations did. Finally, I find Durza more viscerally scary than the Ra'zac. This change could have made the book fifty pages shorter and made the final combat between Eragon and Durza more satisfying. Similarly, while I thought Arya's coma was rather dumb, it wouldn't have been so bad if she had woken up shortly after being rescued. But it doesn't make sense that Murtagh ends up carrying the comatose girl. Since the narrator has told us several times that Eragon is already preoccupied with her, he should be eager to carry her himself - and in a nice bridal-carry, not slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. And if Murtagh was the one to stab Durza, he should have his hands free anyway. If Arya woke up much earlier, she could also have guided Saphira and the boys through the wilderness to the Varden and eliminated a hundred pages of aimless wandering. A more refined prose style would have minimized the flaws of the story and maximized its strengths. But Eragon is so verbose that the narration can disrupt your immersion in the story. Paolini uses obscure words from the thesaurus when a common one would suffice, and the story would flow better as a result. He also compulsively overdescribes background characters and settings, as if afraid that we can't picture the scene without every detail being filled in. Tolkien also loved to set the stage, but he knew how to incorporate the description with subtlety. Here, the narrative can come to a standstill for paragraphs because Paolini has to ensure that we know the exact dimensions of Horst's kitchen table. In conclusion, this isn't a terrible novel. The story is familiar but still rather exciting, and the characters and setting have potential. It's just a bit of a mess - you can tell that it was written by a teenager and makes a lot of beginner's mistakes. Good editing and rearranging some events could have made the book shorter and more engaging; some advice from a more experienced reader could have given it more emotional depth. As it is, I'm interested enough to see where the story goes next, but the significant flaws have created a barrier between the reader and the story that shouldn't be there. It's not terrible, but it doesn't reach its full potential either.