ALL THE CROOKED SAINTS (Non-Spoiler Review)

Title: All the Crooked Saints

Author: Maggie Stiefvater

Star Rating: 3* out of 5* (but bear with me; it's not a BAD story)

Would I recommend it?: Hesitantly.

Although this is a review that praises this story as well as points out it's strangeness, I can only give this book three stars purely because it had quite a slow start but this book was, by all means, not a bad book at all. It's the 12th Maggie Stiefvater book I've read, after loving all of her previous books.

All the Crooked Saints is The Most bizarre book I've ever read, with the most bizarre backstories and the most bizarre character interests, but with a very real and honest point to each story told. So entirely different from any of book she's written, Maggie Stiefvater seems to have taken a risk by writing this because it's so distanced from her usual stories (which is a good thing; I don't know why I say it like it isn't). Yes, it has hints of magic and the unusual; yes it has her love stories written like not love stories but love stories all the same; yes it has her cool way of describing family dynamics, but it was so utterly chaotic and somewhat lovable for it's bizarreness that I'm still unsure of my true feelings for it.

From the start to the first 100 pages, I struggled to read more than ten pages a day, wondering if I could actually finish this weird book. It didn't seem to promise much at the beginning, except a large cast of characters, that, at the time, seemed too much; I felt lost in the meaning. But then past page 100, the book suddenly gripped me (think Take on Me by A-Ha sort of gripping, with the hand through the page) and I couldn't put it down for another 150 pages, thus making me suffer with a crick in my shoulder that I'm complaining over now. Things got interesting. Whilst I still read 50% of the book thinking "what the hell?" and frowning, I became interested. That cast that seemed too full at the beginning became necessary and important. All those backstories? They actually have amazing meanings to them. And the base of the story, at it's core? Incredibly thought out. It was like finding gold buried beneath layers of sand, if only you dig long and hard enough. I felt like reading this book was a test: get through the weirdness to find what everything actually means. All the Crooked Saints is about learning lessons, about learning who you are, and I felt like it taught me a lesson.

Very clearly in the story there are two halves: there are the Saints, and there are the pilgrims. Whilst at first things seemed dull, the division became something intriguing. Despite living on the same ranch the two halves never spoke. Until they did. And danger brewed. For a Soria (the family in the book, very wonderfully reminiscent of the dynamic with the Sargents in TRC), to speak to a pilgrim means facing their own (even more terrible than ordinary) darkness, because that's what the pilgrims are trying to work through. Whatever they become after seeking a miracle, it seems to be what they fear. And what they fear is the thing they need to overcome to move on with their life; otherwise they're trapped, unmoving, not knowing where to go. That was a Big Deal to read--so very true, wrapped in the strange, surrounding context of the story. You have to face your fear so you can begin to live properly again.

Maggie Stiefvater has a way of making a smaller setting seem much grander, much more vast, and Bicho Raro, the place where the Soria's live, is no exception. It has all the vastness and endless possibilities found in Fox Way, in Monmouth, and so, in a distant way, All the Crooked Saints is like a unique mirror of TRC - with more characters, a thinner plot and book, but just as much otherworldliness and intrigue.

All the Crooked Saints was hard to get into, but once I did get into it, it was endless, infinite, beautiful, imaginative and asked me to read in between the lines--which I kind of feel like I have done. Then there are the three main Soria counsins of the "current generation" as such: Beatriz was interesting and lovable; Daniel was flawed and thoughtful, and Joaquin was just downright a classic Stiefvater creation. Each name and backstory and fleshed-out character had that special, unique Stiefvater brand, which was what won me over eventually. Consisting of many owls, miracles, trading darkness for light, butterfly dresses and a girl who can't stop crying and is constantly rained on, this book is one I'd hesitantly recommend.

If you want a book to challenge your focus and understanding as a reader, go ahead! Although some of the writing felt simple yet quirky, it was not a simple storyline, but one that asked to be looked into further beyond what was written. It's weirdness is what will make me remember this book in a good way; it's what will make this book stand out.

Setting: Fictional vs. Reality

As a writer, I make up my own times for my story to start. I make the world my characters live in and only use real-life seasons as a guide to show time passing. I prefer to make my own cities or kingdoms or countries; I like to discover them and what they do/how they rule and look/what religions they follow. Most importantly, I like to create their rulers.

In fantasy, my chosen genre of writing (mostly), the position of a monarch is important so I plan this a lot. What they say goes in my made-up world. For example, in my first fantasy story, The Huntress's Curse (hello, Terrin, I'll return to you one day!), my monarch was a king, closely followed by a ruthless queen. They ruled over Ayla, deciding that their view on hunters was final and to be eliminated from their kingdom. Originally, Ayla was called Glyndwr--a prospering trading kingdom that wasn't flamboyantly rich, but wasn't in poverty, either. It consisted of Port Side, and Woods Side. Any lucky (although probably unlucky) hunters still surviving and escaping the king's "death upon sight" rule, lived purely in the woods. Any hunters that still had alliances with the favoured citizens of Glyndwr got their supplies sneakily through them. Most often, these arrangements fell through and... Well, not a good ending for either side of the arrangement.

But mostly, in Glyndwr, the villagers and the hunters lived in peace. Whilst the villagers respected their king, they didn't always agree with his views on the hunting race. So a lot of the Glyndwran villagers made a deal with the hunters: they could freely buy things from their stores (or provide any sort of help required) as long as they didn't get caught, as long as the hunters never hunted in their village. Because in Glyndwr, not all hunters hunted animals. Terrin, the protagonist, for one, didn't always hunt animals. But that's her story. For now, this post is about Glyndwr's story and how I had to change it. So the deal stayed strong; the hunters never killed anyone or anything, instead finding their enemies and prey elsewhere, and continued to get their help from the purposefully ignorant villagers.

The hunters in Glyndwr lived in the woods, as I mentioned. Illeyal Woods was the barrier between Glyndwr and it's neighbouring kingdom with whom they had a loyal and fierce alliance with: Ayla. Now, Ayla was a disgustingly rich kingdom who's ruling duo liked to marry off their children as soon as possible. Their youngest and last child, a daughter named Ariadne, was their final bargaining chip, as they saw their children. So they arranged a marriage for her with the Crown Prince of Glyndwr. I liked Ayla as a pompous alternative to Glyndwr. Here, I don't mind spoiling a what becomes a bigger character because I had to scrap this story completely. In Ayla, Ariadne is shown saddened to be leaving her home, forced into this arrangement she doesn't want. It seems she's been tricked and persuaded into going to Glyndwr and has been swayed to be okay with it, through all the promises of becoming a future queen. All Ariadne wants to do is paint and discover more art, despite living in a personal solitary from watching her brothers and sisters leave her.

BUT, through the second book (this idea was a planned trilogy), Ariadne's character develops far from the lonely, woe-is-me princess of Ayla, and becomes a determined queen who thunders ahead and has her eyes on the only prize she wants: not her betrothed, but the crown itself. Thus, this makes Glyndwr's future a soft-hearted prince who wants to do right by everyone and a steel-hearted princess as his bride.

Now, here comes to present-day part.

My major fault in this extensive planning and writing that took almost two years? Glyndwr. The name. I read up about it and discovered its origins was far from what I wanted it to stand for in my story and it wasn't original at all. But through this realisation, I'd already started querying my first book to agents. This got me nowhere. So, with my changing of Glyndwr came the changing of the whole story. I rewrote, as I mentioned, but continued my original world.

Glyndwr became Ayla-- a different Ayla to the one I'd already created. Ayla became a larger place, a growing empire of sorts, and I developed my new fictional place to something I was finally comfortable with. I changed its rulers and colours, made it something completely new to base my newly redrafted story in.

The whole point of this lengthy, probably unnecessary post? I prefer the freedom of creating my own worlds, as opposed to finding an existing place and using their culture and ways for my stories. I like to make my own rules for these settings, and using real places gives me boundaries for that. I love, love, LOVE, reading about stories set in existing cultures, where it's obvious that the inspiration has come from a certain place, but for me as a writer, it doesn't work. For me as a reader, yes, yay, well done.

A quick list of my favourite books set fictionally but based on existing cultures and places:

Shadow and Bones (series) - Leigh Bardugo
Soundless - Richelle Mead
Daughter of Smoke and Bone (series) - Laini Taylor
The Raven Boys (series) - Maggie Stiefvater

Even then, these stories differ in their basis. Leigh Bardugo seems to use Russian culture and language and words and names in her books, but Ravka is a made-up place only using these ways to be formed.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone is actually set in Prague (mostly), in the human realm, and I love this setting. It seriously makes me want to travel there and see the wonders described in the book for myself.

Through these type of books, I feel like I can experience the culture in a secondhand way. They encourage me to learn more about the places they're either set in, or based off. I've never wanted to travel so much as when I read these types of books.


Right, lengthy post ALMOST over!

I probably went too overboard with this blog, but I'm writing a post on my laptop for the first time (I usually blog from my phone) and I tend to get carried away, but I wanted the chance to go back and explore parts of my own little world I created. Please excuse the tour I gave (unless you liked it) and I'm actually off to work on a book review for Eleanor and Park, which is the best excuse to reread one of my favourite contemporary books and fanboy over it in the form of a review!