...
Show More
Bringing closure to the Cain and Abel dance between Soren and Kludd, this book is what I like to think of as the 'final' in the Guardians of Ga'Hoole series. Indeed, when I was younger, as the first six books were the only ones the library carried, I thought it was the final. It mostly centres around Otulissa's plot to invade the St Aegolius Canyons, which have by now fallen to the Pure Ones, and, were there no more books in the series, would do a credible job of wrapping it all up.
For a Ga'Hoole book, it was excellent. All the owls are dropped into a new land, facing the perils of the Northern Kingdoms, which gives Lasky scope to reveal new aspects of their characters.
I especially enjoyed reading the sections with Otulissa and Gylfie--they are great foils for one another and I've grown to love Otulissa for her intelligence, cunning, ideals, upset outbursts, and of course, her unintentional moments of humour. Probably the best example of character development in the entire series with her sudden but understandable turn to a colder, less charitable version of herself. And yet she is by this point my favourite.
Twilight, on the other hand, has a scene of shocking cruelty, one of which I do not understand and which Lasky makes no judgement on, though the situation richly deserves it. Apparently it's all right to harass a group of vultures who just helped you out even though you shore their tailfeathers off, simply because they aren't owls. Twilight is a character I like, but at this point I like him in spite of himself.
Digger, as always, never gets enough screentime.
And Soren is one of the most likeable, thoughtful characters I've ever read. As far as I can tell (I've read up to about book 10), this is the last book that focuses much on him. I'm sorry to see him lose the limelight.
The richness of the owl culture and history as always sucks me in, with all its cheery poems, songs, and Twilight's chants (raps, really). Meanwhile Lasky retains a subtle but firm touch of the mystical, with ice weapons that never dull from an ice spear that never melts, and Soren's starsight dreams, which are excellent foreshadowing, and are rarely if ever used in a heavy-handed way. The epic tone of the story is still there, bolstered by the aspiration of the owls to be better versions of themselves, and Lasky's use of telling rather than showing at times, which hearkens back to the songs that bards would sing. They are the Chaw of Chaws, the best of the best, and they will fight for their freedom.
However, the elitism of the story also proves its undoing. The Burning loses a star, as any Ga'Hoole book always will, for Lasky's blindness in creating a band of noble owls fighting against a supremacist and rather racist cult, when they themselves behave in exactly the same way towards other birds (seagulls, puffins and vultures come to mind as especial victims). Not to mention the nestmaid snakes, who are practically enslaved by the owls, and who seem to revel in their servitude. Lasky makes no attempt to comment on this beyond actually praising this order of things, which I find quite despicable.
I also dislike that Octavia seemed to naturally take on such a role in becoming Ezylryb's nestmaid snake after she had such a different life before she was blinded. As though that were all she were good for, and all she aspired to!
The scale of the book was again off, and I, a long-time fan of the series, don't actually know how much time has passed since the series began. I thought it was a year, two at most. Apparently it was "summers and summers ago". And yet Soren and the rest of the band, whilst they have grown and changed over the previous books, are still very much adolescent and do not seem to rank any higher in the Tree than a fairly talented group of teenagers would in the real world.
Meanwhile, the number of owls in the Tree is still unexplained, and when you're talking war and invasion, it gets confusing.
This book would have gotten five stars had it not been for the severe moral flaws within--however, the rest of the writing and worldbuilding is good enough to overcome it--and it has to be good. The Guardians of Ga'Hoole is a series that somehow, against all odds, rises above its unsightly flaws to live up to the nostalgia it evokes in me. The nostalgia of a different and more naive time, in which I was a different and more naive young girl.
For a Ga'Hoole book, it was excellent. All the owls are dropped into a new land, facing the perils of the Northern Kingdoms, which gives Lasky scope to reveal new aspects of their characters.
I especially enjoyed reading the sections with Otulissa and Gylfie--they are great foils for one another and I've grown to love Otulissa for her intelligence, cunning, ideals, upset outbursts, and of course, her unintentional moments of humour. Probably the best example of character development in the entire series with her sudden but understandable turn to a colder, less charitable version of herself. And yet she is by this point my favourite.
Twilight, on the other hand, has a scene of shocking cruelty, one of which I do not understand and which Lasky makes no judgement on, though the situation richly deserves it. Apparently it's all right to harass a group of vultures who just helped you out even though you shore their tailfeathers off, simply because they aren't owls. Twilight is a character I like, but at this point I like him in spite of himself.
Digger, as always, never gets enough screentime.
And Soren is one of the most likeable, thoughtful characters I've ever read. As far as I can tell (I've read up to about book 10), this is the last book that focuses much on him. I'm sorry to see him lose the limelight.
The richness of the owl culture and history as always sucks me in, with all its cheery poems, songs, and Twilight's chants (raps, really). Meanwhile Lasky retains a subtle but firm touch of the mystical, with ice weapons that never dull from an ice spear that never melts, and Soren's starsight dreams, which are excellent foreshadowing, and are rarely if ever used in a heavy-handed way. The epic tone of the story is still there, bolstered by the aspiration of the owls to be better versions of themselves, and Lasky's use of telling rather than showing at times, which hearkens back to the songs that bards would sing. They are the Chaw of Chaws, the best of the best, and they will fight for their freedom.
However, the elitism of the story also proves its undoing. The Burning loses a star, as any Ga'Hoole book always will, for Lasky's blindness in creating a band of noble owls fighting against a supremacist and rather racist cult, when they themselves behave in exactly the same way towards other birds (seagulls, puffins and vultures come to mind as especial victims). Not to mention the nestmaid snakes, who are practically enslaved by the owls, and who seem to revel in their servitude. Lasky makes no attempt to comment on this beyond actually praising this order of things, which I find quite despicable.
I also dislike that Octavia seemed to naturally take on such a role in becoming Ezylryb's nestmaid snake after she had such a different life before she was blinded. As though that were all she were good for, and all she aspired to!
The scale of the book was again off, and I, a long-time fan of the series, don't actually know how much time has passed since the series began. I thought it was a year, two at most. Apparently it was "summers and summers ago". And yet Soren and the rest of the band, whilst they have grown and changed over the previous books, are still very much adolescent and do not seem to rank any higher in the Tree than a fairly talented group of teenagers would in the real world.
Meanwhile, the number of owls in the Tree is still unexplained, and when you're talking war and invasion, it gets confusing.
This book would have gotten five stars had it not been for the severe moral flaws within--however, the rest of the writing and worldbuilding is good enough to overcome it--and it has to be good. The Guardians of Ga'Hoole is a series that somehow, against all odds, rises above its unsightly flaws to live up to the nostalgia it evokes in me. The nostalgia of a different and more naive time, in which I was a different and more naive young girl.