The Temptation of Dragons, while not perfect, did prove to be more fun than I’ve had in a while.
The Temptation of Dragons is quite an unusual book. It follows Penny White, a female vicar (!) in the C of E, who has discovered world of supernatural creatures. She meets a dying dragon to whom she offers confession; later on she captures a snail shark (a deadly creature with tentacles and sharp teeth); and she becomes friends with a half-cat, half-bird creature known as a gryphon. On top of that, there are vampires, unicorns, and harpies.
The worldbuilding is excellent; it is the strongest aspect of this book, in fact. The aforementioned supernatural creatures are in fact denizens of a world known as Lloegyr—a parallel world populated by many fantastical creatures. And one, ironically, that has the same religious distribution as on Earth. Believe me, Christian vampire bishops are quite a contradiction!
What makes Lloegyr particularly distinct is, as you may be able to guess, the language: Welsh (or Cymraeg, if my tiny bit of Welsh vocabulary serves me correctly). Indeed there is so much Welsh that I occasionally struggled to keep up.
Aside from this, there’s the characterisation. It’s quite good: the protagonist is a perfect example of a modern day Anglican vicar—pious, liberal, highly educated, and strangely normal. Having lost her husband 18 months prior to the events of the book, she has a drinking problem. I thought this a poignant touch to the usually implacable stereotype of religious folk.
The other characters are well-portrayed as well. Morey (known as Trahaearneifion in Welsh), her gryphon Associate, is a curious breed: a fundamentalist Christian who disapproves of mixed-species marriage, and yet who himself fell in love with a were-fox. The hypocrisy, I must admit, was rather appropriate.
The last character I wish to mention is a dragon by the name of Raven. This charming draconic specimen has been flirting with Penny—and our dear protagonist falls for him. A search dragon, he lives on a volcano (dragons prefer warm places), and he’s a professional sculptor. I found the incipient romance between the two to be compelling, particularly in light of the Lloegyrian prejudice at mixed-species relationships.
There are of course many other characters—vampire and dragon bishops, racuous harpies, and a pet shark snail—but suffice to say that the author does a good job with them as well (and I would be here all day if I had to go through exactly how and why).
So, onto the plot. This is perhaps were this book is weaker. Don’t get me wrong—there were plot points, particularly towards the end. The pacing was not really an issue. Rather, the problem is that the beginning of the book (and much of the intervening space in the middle, for that matter) is rather slow. The author gets away with this because the reader is probably too interested in learning about the denizens of Lloegyr, as well as obtaining juicy details into the vicar’s drinking habits.
Nonetheless, I felt the book would have been improved had there been a somewhat more developed plot—especially in between the first 10% and the middle 50% or so.
The prose is another aspect of the book that I enjoyed; it is highly readable and relatively detailed, though there were one or two things I disliked. The first was the colour descriptions. The number of times I heard grey-white, green-black, or—particularly where it related to dragons—orange-red was enough to leave me distinctly irritated. The author really should abandon this awful habit of making complex colours by combining simple colours. I would prefer ‘turquoise’ over ‘green-blue’ or any other pseudo-imaginative constructions.
I also found the prose could have done with a few more dramatisms, though that may be personal preference speaking. In any case, suffice to say that despite my complaints, the prose was largely fluent and pleasant to read.
Anyway, my review thus far makes it clear that many of the individual components of this book are strong. But this is not the only question I need to answer; for as I’ve discovered, a book can have many strong elements and yet still fail to come together. So: does the Temptation of Dragons come together as a coherent and exciting whole?
The short answer is yes. Put simply, I enjoyed the book (reading it well past my bedtime) and felt that the ending served neatly to close the tale and open the ground for a sequel. My rating, therefore, reflects this. Those of you who have read my other reviews may be aware that I rarely hand out 5*—and while the Temptation of Dragons may not be quite perfect, it comes close enough.
Rating: 4.5/5