Nick and Alan are the sole caretakers of a mad mother—an ex-magician whose only magic came from human sacrifices and deals with demons. They’ve grown up poor and on the run, caring for each other the best they can, barely a step ahead of the powerful things that hunt them. When two school kids walk in on the aftermath of a battle with demons that are clearly out of place in a suburban kitchen, there’s no covering it up. Worse, one of the kids is tagged with a potentially deadly demon mark, and needs Nick and Alan’s help to survive. To Nick, it all adds up to one thing: time to move on and keep the family safe. To his brother Alan, however, it’s a chance for community—and a cause to worry about warrior Nick’s lack of empathy.
The Demon’s Lexicon is a new offering from McElderry Books, Simon & Schuster’s children’s imprint—proving, yet again, that Young Adult publishers are currently the best place to look for inventive takes on fantasy and science fiction. In this case, the book’s clever hook is the resurrection of something old and abandoned. Gone are Tolkienesque hermetic wizards, Susan Cooper “Old Ways,” and pseudo-Celtic potions and wands. Sarah Rees Brennan sends nature magic straight to hell—literally—and embraces a medieval take on unnatural powers from unnatural sources.
Brennan wisely sidesteps Christian theology and symbolism, but embraces the Inquisition’s tenet that all magical power derives from deals with devils. Brennan’s demons come from a cold and miserable parallel Earth; for a temporary escape to our Earth, they are willing to share some of their power with magicians who summon them. And of course, they’re willing to give more power for more access—maybe a kiss, or maybe a dead body to inhabit. It makes for a world in which the bad guys are definitely bad, and the good guys are without question the underdogs.
As a result, it is a book about the selling of souls, and one particularly relevant to contemporary debates about Guantanamo Bay, the collapse of the banking system, and the worldwide war on terrorism. Throughout the book, Nick and Alan debate whether they can and should share their resources to protect other people, or whether their first obligation is to protect themselves. Nick pushes into moral territory Alan would never visit, negotiating for extra power even though the source of that power is evil—because how else is he going to fight his enemies? Alan is unfailingly kind and compassionate—but he also lies, manipulates, and conceals information if he thinks it’s the best way to protect someone. Both kill magicians without remorse, and not always in self defense.
The book is a page-turner, and its compulsive readability is fortunate given the excellence of its ending, which sharpens and deepens everything that has come before. It’s not exactly a twist, but it’s not exactly expected. Without moralizing, it elevates what seemed like a guilty pleasure into an extremely compelling metaphor for what it feels like to be a teenager. This is not to suggest that what has come before the end was ever empty—the characters are well-drawn throughout. Nick in particular treads the right side of the Wolverine line; he’s angry and alienated, but he has enough pragmatism—and enough loyalty to Alan—that he never becomes a parody. Also notable is Jamie, a well-adjusted gay teen who is neither flaming nor butch nor meek. He is easily the most human presence in the book, and it is a pleasure to see a gay character who is neither token nor titillating.
As a writer, Brennan consistently cuts to the base of things, paring down unnecessary detail—whether it’s a fight or a trip to the Goblin Market, she allows herself no whimsy, no gore, and no unnecessary ornateness. The only place her discipline breaks down is the dialogue; it’s a little too clever and self-possessed to feel authentic, and can go off on long tears that would fit better in a television episode than in a book. However, this is a minor quibble, and a forgivable one—the author is clearly having fun, and the reader is rewarded with a grab bag of Whedonesque one-liners.
The Demon’s Lexicon is Brennan’s first novel, but her name and style will be familiar to readers of Harry Potter slash fandom, where she has written extensively (and successfully) under the handle “mistful.” This puts Simon & Schuster into an odd position, but one increasingly relevant to fantasy publishers; they want to capitalize on Brennan’s fan base without openly endorsing Harry/Draco as their OTP—or getting caught in the murky legal rumbling about what is and isn’t fair use. As a result, they’re playing it coy with publishing’s new version of the hanky code—pull quotes come from Holly Black and Cassandra Clare, authors who have similarly ascended from internet fan fame, and whose names will be recognizable to mistful’s readers.
This is perhaps for the best. The Demon’s Lexicon is a fundamentally original work, with fresh three-dimensional characters and a simple, hefty magic system—one that feels real, thorough, and consistent in a way Harry Potter’s never did. It would be a disservice to the book if readers were primed with the idea that it was in any way a knockoff, and it would be unfair to ghettoize the writer by lodging her in a market which, despite its size, has not received critical or mainstream acceptance.
At the same time, the book is laced with elements of fandom crack—you could think of them as easter eggs for hardcore gamers. Is there slash potential? Yes—heavily. Is there an element of bondage? Yes. There are druggy “I want to kiss you but maybe it’s the drugs” scenes. There are “actually, I’m a brilliant dancer” scenes. There is a character whose entire wardrobe is made up of snarky t-shirts.
From the US cover of the book—a closeup of a soulful, pouty-lipped Robert Pattinson clone, brave and angsty in the midst of lightning and ravens (international readers are presented with less garish, more adult-friendly options)—it’s clear Simon & Schuster are hoping for another Twilight. Because of what’s between the covers, they might actually pull it off.
To buy a copy of The Demon’s Lexicon, click here.
If you liked this book, check out:
The Mortal Instruments Trilogy, by Cassandra Clare
Tithe: A Modern Faerie Tale, by Holly Black
Angel – Season One, created by Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, et al
Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer