Monday, 24 February 2020 11:23 pm
Book Review: Silverwing
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deckardcanineI don't normally review books designated for children, but at more than 200 pages without illustrations, this one isn't too kiddie. Apparently, the series it kicks off is better known in Kenneth Oppel's native Canada, where it became an animated miniseries. All I knew going in (not that I recall how I found out about it) was that it starred a bat and therefore probably belonged to the talking-animal subgenre of Watership Down, Tailchaser's Song, and Hunter's Moon.
I'm not sure which species the self-styled Silverwings are -- they might not even look silver to us, since the bats are fully colorblind -- but they are insectivores on the small side. The protagonist, Shade, is especially small, being a newborn runt. Note that "newborn" doesn't mean the same to his kind: His smarts and maturity are at least equivalent to late elementary school (the minimum prescribed reading level). Regardless, he resents his size, which made him a late bloomer for flight. Between that and the unsolved disappearance of his father, his mother is extra protective of him. It figures that Shade becomes daring to try to prove himself -- with frightful consequences.
Alas, while owls are among my favorite birds, they do not come across well herein. Citing some ancient alleged offense, they have instituted an ironclad rule against bats ever seeing the sun, and they don't need much of a reason to make things harder still. Naturally, Shade, who rejects the legal rationale, becomes even less popular with his colony by provoking them. But he's about to face something worse than unpopularity: loneliness.
The plot starts to take the shape of An American Tail as Shade refuses maternal help during a stormy migration and is blown way off course, thereafter presumed dead or as good as dead. Fortunately, the physics of sound do not operate in SW the way we observe in RL, so he can call up an echolocation-based map, albeit consisting only of landmarks that he doesn't always understand right away. (Descriptions of perceptions do add a bit that must get lost in the screen adaptation.)
Before long, a slightly older "Brightwing" named Marina joins Shade. She was exiled from her colony for wearing a man-made band on one wing, but since Shade's colony leader has one too, he doesn't believe it's bad news. I doubt the two young bats ever develop an outright romance, given differences in species and age, but it is interesting to see how their interactions evolve. Despite rocky moments, they grow to care deeply about each other. And I melted at their hug.
Apart from Shade, the one focal character is the main villain, Goth, a profoundly powerful and power-loving vampire bat who escapes from a lab with comrade Throbb. Part of me wonders whether Oppel would have done better not to let readers learn about them any sooner than Shade does. Shade initially values and envies the vampire bats' bird-bashing brawn, unaware that they want to consume him. They get enough nourishment elsewhere; they just prefer the taste of bat, and Goth keeps entertaining the idea of feeding on his fellow vampire. (That talk and the cursory examination of owl pellets are as gross as the book gets.) They refrain from attacking right away because Shade can help lead them south, toward their home -- and the Silverwings' home. Even after he's caught on, they hope to coerce him, so it's up to his wits to save the day, er, night.
As I suspected, the book turns out more like Warriors than like any of the three books I mentioned in the first paragraph. Not only is it the start of a youth-oriented series rather than a stand-alone novel apparently for older readers, but it kinda skimps on cultural development. Apart from the "-wing" compounds, the bats use no coined terms. Their names all consist of either plain English words or somewhat rare names like Frieda. They're said to express themselves in highly human ways such as laughing. They don't appear to observe rituals, only rules. We learn only the outline of a single story from the past.
I will note that, at least in this first volume, there is no compelling evidence for the truth of bats' religious beliefs. In fact, more than one religion turns up. The faithful among the Silverwings hope that Nocturna will deliver them, whereas Goth proclaims himself an heir of Cama-Zotz, the Aztec bat god, whom he believes guides and protects him upon request. Another group might worship Nocturna, but they certainly have a unique take on her plans. The only blatant fantasy elements are, again, what the bats manage to pull off with sound, especially the completely blind prophet who can pinpoint a star. You could say it's more tall tale than fairy tale.
Perhaps what most separates SW from the other stories is that the bats do not generally view humans as evil or disgraced. They regard humans with awe, almost as (ironically?) a force of nature, potentially capable of great benefit as well as great harm. Whether humans are worth envying varies by personal preference; Shade pities their lack of independent flight. The most misanthropic character is Goth, and though we can see why, he's hardly a role model.
The ending makes a suitable stopping point yet promises much to come, including more non-flying beasts as well as birds. I may pick up the sequel someday, but I'm undecided on whether to recommend SW to adults who aren't as obsessed with animals as I am. Just because it never bored me doesn't mean it touched me deeply.
I feel ready for something less tame, so I picked up Robin Hobb's Assassin's Apprentice. It certainly has more nuanced social dynamics so far.
I'm not sure which species the self-styled Silverwings are -- they might not even look silver to us, since the bats are fully colorblind -- but they are insectivores on the small side. The protagonist, Shade, is especially small, being a newborn runt. Note that "newborn" doesn't mean the same to his kind: His smarts and maturity are at least equivalent to late elementary school (the minimum prescribed reading level). Regardless, he resents his size, which made him a late bloomer for flight. Between that and the unsolved disappearance of his father, his mother is extra protective of him. It figures that Shade becomes daring to try to prove himself -- with frightful consequences.
Alas, while owls are among my favorite birds, they do not come across well herein. Citing some ancient alleged offense, they have instituted an ironclad rule against bats ever seeing the sun, and they don't need much of a reason to make things harder still. Naturally, Shade, who rejects the legal rationale, becomes even less popular with his colony by provoking them. But he's about to face something worse than unpopularity: loneliness.
The plot starts to take the shape of An American Tail as Shade refuses maternal help during a stormy migration and is blown way off course, thereafter presumed dead or as good as dead. Fortunately, the physics of sound do not operate in SW the way we observe in RL, so he can call up an echolocation-based map, albeit consisting only of landmarks that he doesn't always understand right away. (Descriptions of perceptions do add a bit that must get lost in the screen adaptation.)
Before long, a slightly older "Brightwing" named Marina joins Shade. She was exiled from her colony for wearing a man-made band on one wing, but since Shade's colony leader has one too, he doesn't believe it's bad news. I doubt the two young bats ever develop an outright romance, given differences in species and age, but it is interesting to see how their interactions evolve. Despite rocky moments, they grow to care deeply about each other. And I melted at their hug.
Apart from Shade, the one focal character is the main villain, Goth, a profoundly powerful and power-loving vampire bat who escapes from a lab with comrade Throbb. Part of me wonders whether Oppel would have done better not to let readers learn about them any sooner than Shade does. Shade initially values and envies the vampire bats' bird-bashing brawn, unaware that they want to consume him. They get enough nourishment elsewhere; they just prefer the taste of bat, and Goth keeps entertaining the idea of feeding on his fellow vampire. (That talk and the cursory examination of owl pellets are as gross as the book gets.) They refrain from attacking right away because Shade can help lead them south, toward their home -- and the Silverwings' home. Even after he's caught on, they hope to coerce him, so it's up to his wits to save the day, er, night.
As I suspected, the book turns out more like Warriors than like any of the three books I mentioned in the first paragraph. Not only is it the start of a youth-oriented series rather than a stand-alone novel apparently for older readers, but it kinda skimps on cultural development. Apart from the "-wing" compounds, the bats use no coined terms. Their names all consist of either plain English words or somewhat rare names like Frieda. They're said to express themselves in highly human ways such as laughing. They don't appear to observe rituals, only rules. We learn only the outline of a single story from the past.
I will note that, at least in this first volume, there is no compelling evidence for the truth of bats' religious beliefs. In fact, more than one religion turns up. The faithful among the Silverwings hope that Nocturna will deliver them, whereas Goth proclaims himself an heir of Cama-Zotz, the Aztec bat god, whom he believes guides and protects him upon request. Another group might worship Nocturna, but they certainly have a unique take on her plans. The only blatant fantasy elements are, again, what the bats manage to pull off with sound, especially the completely blind prophet who can pinpoint a star. You could say it's more tall tale than fairy tale.
Perhaps what most separates SW from the other stories is that the bats do not generally view humans as evil or disgraced. They regard humans with awe, almost as (ironically?) a force of nature, potentially capable of great benefit as well as great harm. Whether humans are worth envying varies by personal preference; Shade pities their lack of independent flight. The most misanthropic character is Goth, and though we can see why, he's hardly a role model.
The ending makes a suitable stopping point yet promises much to come, including more non-flying beasts as well as birds. I may pick up the sequel someday, but I'm undecided on whether to recommend SW to adults who aren't as obsessed with animals as I am. Just because it never bored me doesn't mean it touched me deeply.
I feel ready for something less tame, so I picked up Robin Hobb's Assassin's Apprentice. It certainly has more nuanced social dynamics so far.