I was saying that I loved Wicked, Gregory Maguire’s novel of the Wicked Witch of the West. Besides the alternate point of view of the Witch, it had a sort of alternate point of view of the entire Land of Oz.
Which was a scary, scary place.
Son of a Witch, the sequel, has been sitting on my shelf for about ever. I was interested enough to buy it, but not enough to revisit Oz without Elphaba.
Liir was a boy that lived with Elphaba in Kiamo Ko. He may have been her son, but he didn’t know. And then she was dead. So Liir leaves the tower with Dorothy and Crew and heads back to the Emerald City. After Dorothy’s departure, the novel returns to its scary, scary portrait of Maguire’s Oz.
So I was following along with the little story, happy that it was good enough to justify my time, but not so great that I felt compelled to read the next in the series. Liir was sort of plodding along – pawn in the game of the next ruler of the land. Meeting the sentient Animals, searching for a lost childhood friend. But he was also sort of searching for his own purpose. And not very well. He is so. Dumb.
I did my share of eye-rolling at this character, but at the end of the novel there were a few threads that I wanted to follow:
I loved the originals, but I also liked the book Wicked. I felt similarly that I didn't want to read the sequel as much, much less the third one. I kind of wonder if the author was churning them out due to his new-found popularity.