This is a remarkable book and a hugely entertaining one. I am a slow reader and it only took me a couple of days to finish. For many I suspect it will be a one sitting, perhaps even an up-half-the-night job. It drew me in and along very powerfully.
The core subject matter of the book, yet another 'tweenage' orphan boy* who discovers on his birthday that he has embryonic magic powers, is so ubiquitous as to have become rather a cliché of children's fantasy fiction. However (and in this case it is a big 'however'), this author brings two highly imaginative and original ingredients to this very basic recipe which lift the results far above the commonplace.
The first is the authorial, and narrative, conjuring of the titular eighth day, an additional twenty four hours between Wedneday and Thursday of which only those few with a particular heritage, and hence particular magical powers, can experience. Plot devices involving abnormalities of time in fiction often become problematic and raise all kinds of logical issues. However , once the basic implausibility is accepted, Dianne Salerni here handles her characters' extra day with at least a fictionally convincing rationale, and exploits its intriguing possibilities well.
Her second imaginative coup lies not simply in linking her 'magical' invention to figures from Arthurian legend - Arthur Pendragon himself, Merlin, the Lady of the Lake and their like - but in making her actual characters the largely degenerate distant descendents of these fabled forebears. This is no Percy Jackson scenario, where ancient gods and heros intervene directly in the modern world, or act through their Demi-God offspring. In Eighth Day, the modern remnants of the Arthurian bloodlines do indeed still inherit some magical and mystical abilities, but they are more inclined to use them to unlawful ends than to fulfilling chivalrous quest. Many of them lead lives that range from petty larceny through mobster criminality to the running of small mercenary armies, complete with modern weaponry.
It is this, in many ways anomalous shift, which makes Eighth Day so fresh feeling. It gives its central battle of goodies v baddies a different and contemporary quality, whilst still rooting it in a fantasy 'magic'. Furthermore, for much of the novel it is not always clear to either the protagonist or the reader who actually is 'good' and who 'bad'. One of the principal ways in which we are drawn so quickly into this narrative is by sharing protagonist Jax's intense curiosity as to exactly who other people are and what they are up to. Clever writing.
Eighth Day is very much an urban fantasy, indeed it is very much a fantasy of urban America. It tells the story from the point of view of an American kid from a socially and economically deprived background, so it is inevitably written in U.S. vernacular, including much slang. As UK born and bred it is impossible to know quite how this reads to its US audience, presumably as very ordinary and everyday. To an English reader it creates a certain 'otherness', although this is balanced by the familiarity of the many US films and TV shows we watch. However, context almost always makes meaning perfectly clear and the end result of its pervasive stateside vocabulary is to set the book very firmly in its time and place. If it is ever published over here, which I most certainly hope it will be, it would be a big mistake to try to Anglicise its language.
What all this very authentic feeling American urban context does is ground the story and lend its undoubtedly fanciful elements more fictional credibility than they would otherwise have. They are an essential part of what makes this story so particular and so engrossing.
There is one other particularly strong element of the storytelling in this book and that is the rich and sensitive handling of relationships, particularly those between Jax and his so-called carer, Riley and between Jax and the book's other principle protagonist, Evangeline. It is intriguing and absorbing to follow the convoluted but ultimately very touching development of both these pairings. Evangeline is the girl 'imprisoned' both in the house next door and in the eighth day itself, although we, and Jax, gradually discover far more about her than this. There are several points in the story where the narrative perspective splits and we are given Evangeline's view on unfolding events. This helps to highten both understandings and misunderstandings between the two in a most involving way. Again very skillful writing.
In its final quarter the novel becomes much more overtly fanciful. It's setting moves to an ancient ritual site in Mexico and its action develops into something of a cross between a James Bond shoot out and Harry Potter's ultimate battle with the embodiment of evil. However by this time we are well and truly hooked in. Incredible or not, it is very exciting and we really care that Jax, Evangeline and Riley (not to mention the whole human race) come out of it well.
A sequel, The Inquisitor's Mark, is already published. I have had to source it from the US, so it is taking a while. However it is due to arrive any day now and I shall pounce on it with pleasure. According to the author's website a third book is also in the pipeline. Further instalments are, at this stage, much to be welcomed, although I do hope that Dianne Salerni can fashion a sequence which moves and develops to fulfil the promise of The Eighth Day. It would be shame to see this degenerate into a repetitive, formulaic series.
Meanwhile please may we have this fine book published in the UK.
Footnote
*There are of course many good reasons for the prevalence of orphans in children's fiction and a quick Internet search brings up any number of popular or scholarly explanations. Orphan protagonists clearly attract and engage young readers, who happily embrace their particular potential for turning out to be special. By identifying with orphans, children can enjoy the vicarious freedom from parental constraints for which they themselves are not actually ready. Nevertheless, as someone who reads countless children's fantasies, I do wish more authors would now be bold enough to break this particular mould.
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