Kristina's Reviews > The Book of Life

I guess the good news about Deborah Harkness’s The Book of Life is I didn’t throw it across the room in disgust. I couldn't—it's too damn dumb to make me angry. Mostly I shook my head in bewilderment at the overwhelming idiocy. This last book in the trilogy is pretty much the same as the first two: excessive details, wandering plot lines, horrible pacing, paper-thin characters, and fang-less boring vampires. When I finished reading all 561 pages, I thought: what the fuck. How can something this awful be a bestseller? But now I've at least satisfied my curiosity about how Harkness wrapped everything up (not satisfactorily), so let the shredding begin.

The Book of Life begins where Shadow of Night ends. Matthew the vampire and Diana the witch return to Sept-Tours, the de Clermont ancestral home. She is pregnant with twins and they are married, two facts they would like to keep from the Congregation. Aunt Emily is dead and even though we (the readers) learned of her death in the previous book, Harkness didn’t explain what happened until now. Emily supposedly died of a heart attack when two other witches were questioning her about spells she was casting. Matthew and Diana don’t believe this and vow to discover the truth. They also have to deal with Matthew’s blood rage, find missing pages torn from the Ashmole 782 manuscript (aka The Book of Life) in order to retrieve the whole manuscript from the Bodleian Library, confront the Congregation and stop Benjamin, Matthew’s very bad son, from doing more very bad things.

Many—way too many—things happen in this book. In order to keep this review under a million words, I’m going to hit the highlights of Things That Made Me Roll My Eyes. First, however, I’ll start with what I liked. It’s a very short list: 1) Continuity. Considering how stuffed all these books are with details about everything, Harkness does an amazing job of connecting actions, people, and places from the last two books with this one. In chapter three, Diana is surprised to find a book she used in the 16th century to practice her handwriting still around in modern day Sept-Tours. I laughed because I remember that scene well from the second book only because it was so damn boring—a very long passage describing her efforts to write the 16th century way. I thought that scene was stupid in the second book and I think it’s stupid to bring it up in the third book, but wow—gold star for continuity. 2) The Bishop family house. The house is the best character in the books and I am disappointed it makes only a brief appearance in this book. For a short while, Matthew and Diana and their band of merry followers stay at the house. It’s playing Fleetwood Mac records nonstop. Even though I don’t like any of these vampires or witches, they have my sympathy here. Fleetwood Mac sucks. 3) Harkness’s writing seems to have improved between books two and three. While I still find this book deplorable, it actually keeps my attention. That’s fairly amazing considering how dumb and scatterbrained it is. Oh, and the artwork for the book cover is pretty. There’s that.

Now I can bitch. There are too many unnecessary details. About everything. We have specific descriptions of the characters’ voices; Fernando (who is a gay vampire but Harkness has so little imagination his character is stereotypically gay down to his fussiness and talented cooking) has a voice “as warm and cultured as sherry aged in oak barrels” (6). We know what all the characters smell like. In chapter 7, there’s a detailed list of all the kitchen appliances and their uses. Diana also goes grocery shopping and meets up with some fellow witches. The whole scene is unnecessary, but it's this sentence that makes me crazy: “I fumbled and nearly dropped the paper bag of apples grown on a nearby farm” (105). It’s the “grown on a nearby farm” that makes me incoherent with rage. Who gives a shit? Is it really that important to know that Diana, as well as being so awesome in every other aspect, is also concerned about buying local produce? WHAT THE FUCK, EDITOR. Idiotic shit like this is why the book is so damn long. There are many pages devoted to the scientific analysis of Matthew’s DNA, Diana’s DNA, the DNA of one of the Ashmole pages…who cares? Very little of it is actually relevant to the plot (whatever the hell the plot is).

One of the dumbest parts of the book is the trip to the Bodleian library to steal the Ashmole manuscript. The whole heist is asinine. I’m already annoyed by this sentence: “It was every library patron’s nightmare—that you were secretly being observed whenever you took a forbidden cough drop out of your pocket” (458). As a staff person at a library and a library patron, I wonder: what the fuck is she talking about? Shove a million cough drops into your mouth—we don’t care. However, we do care about sugary, sticky drinks and gooey, greasy pizza. But no one should care because cough drops have nothing to do with the heist. Diana and her helpers (it takes three witches, two vampires and one firedrake to steal this damn manuscript) go to the Bodleian Library. After deactivating all the magical surveillance by using magic, Diana puts a halt to their illegal activities to call her sweetie pie. Getting this manuscript is supposedly the most important mission they have, but dumb ass has to call pookie-kins to let him know she’s okay. Major fucking eye roll here. Not only that, but if their souls are so magically in sync, shouldn’t he just know she’s fine? Whatever. Now, even though the library is closed because of the Christmas holidays and they know that the pneumatic tube book request system is shut down, Diana and her crew of morons decide to fill out a book slip requesting the Ashmole manuscript and send it via tube. Now, I’m guessing that if you’re going to steal a book from a library, you don’t fucking submit a written request for that actual book. That’s like handing the bank teller your ATM card and then saying, “This is a stick-up. Give me money.” Wtf, Diana. But this isn’t the best (or worst) part. The dumb fucks stand around waiting for two hours! for the damn manuscript to appear in front of them. What the fuck! Wtf???? That makes no sense. Why the hell would you have your characters do that, Harkness? What the hell is the point of that? Do you not understand pacing? So your characters stand around for two hours doing what? Playing hopscotch? Magical orgy? What? Finally, they decide the library is not going to send them the manuscript so Diana says, oh yeah, I’m a witch. Time to do magical shit. (If you’re a witch, wouldn’t starting with magical shit be your first move?) Eventually she does some magical shit and with the help of Corra, her unfortunately-named firedrake, she finds the fucking manuscript.

During all of this, the five jackasses are joking around and giggling. That’s one of the weirder aspects of this book—everything is supposed to be all so dramatic and serious, but then Harkness sticks in these loony scenes with the characters tee-heeing and yee-hawing about the stupidest shit. (Also, in chapter five, the vampires greet each other with waves and cheerful calls of “Hi!” I want to stake them all.) It’s another moment of bemusement at how weirdly out of place these scenes are; not only that, but the humor is not funny.

What is funny is all the secrets that aren’t secrets. Humans aren’t supposed to know about daemons, witches and vampires. They know. Even if they didn’t know, Matthew and Diana are the worst fucking blabber mouths around. They are constantly telling people: oh yeah, I’m a vampire/witch. What’s even more amusing is that as soon as one of them blabs, the human shrugs and says, effectively, “So what?” When Chris, Diana’s human colleague from her university, shows up, she calmly informs him that her husband is a vampire—that’s why he has such great hearing. Chris’s only argument that Matthew can’t be a vampire is because on the tv show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, girls who have sex with vampires never get “knocked up,” but Diana is pregnant. This dubious logic is followed by Chris stating the reason he is so calm about hearing this is “I’m a scientist. I’m trained to suspend disbelief and remain open-minded until something is disproved” (162). Yeah, I don’t think Chris (or Harkness) has even the most basic understanding of scientific thinking. If his statement were correct, we’d still be back in the Dark Ages. If he really were a scientist, he’d ask her what proof she has that Matthew is a vampire (and that she’s not nuts). There’s a great (in a bad way) scene in which Matthew outs not only himself, but all supernatural creatures, to his Yale research students. They are working on his DNA analysis. There are a lot of lame jokes (students theorize that the DNA belongs to aliens and two of the students’ nicknames are “Mulder” and “Scully”—oh, tee hee, Harkness. Stop now before I wet myself) but finally Matthew says: “No, I’m a vampire. And before you ask, I can go outside during the day and my hair won’t catch fire in the sunlight. I’m Catholic and have a crucifix. When I sleep, which is not often, I prefer a bed to a coffin. If you try to stake me, the wood will likely splinter before it enters my skin. No fangs either. And one last thing: I do not, nor have I ever, sparkled” (196). The students’ reaction: “Whoa, dude. How old are you? Over 1,500 years! Awesome, dude! High-five!” None of these so-called scientists says, “Um, yeah, right. Call campus security.” No one in the book (humans) ever responds with skepticism or laughter when told about these supernatural beings. Why is that? Well, Harkness does write stupid books about stupid people, but also: almost everyone in the book is a fucking supernatural being! I can think of only three humans in the book. That’s it. So…what’s the secret? Diana and Matthew also blab about their marriage (relations between supernatural creatures is forbidden by the Congregation) and her pregnancy (forbidden). When the Congregation sends them a note saying, hey, naughty naughty, you two are married and produced children, the two dumb fucks can't figure it out: “How’d they know? Who told the Congregation?” Um…everyone knows. You two are the Brangelina of this idiot trilogy. Same thing with Benji, Matthew’s evil son. He was erased from the family tree and was supposed to be a deep, dark secret…guess what? Everyone fucking knows.

The Marty Stu/Mary Sue factor. Diana and Matthew are too perfect to be believable. Diana is the Best Witch Ever. She is the Most Beautiful Woman Ever. Everyone Loves Her (even Gallowglass reveals that his love for “auntie” is of the carnal variety). Everyone wants to help her. In one scene, we learn that Diana’s awesome witch skills of the 16th century so inspired the London witches that they created a sort of shrine to her and she is now a legend. It’s ridiculous. The same is true for Matthew. He’s a very accomplished vampire. Granted, he’s over a thousand years old, but c’mon. This is the list Diana compiles: scientist, warrior, spy, prince, assassin. The list doesn’t include his musical talent and woodworking skills. And, according to the last book, he's also an architect. He’s even so awesome that he can master his blood rage. This awesomeness extends to vampires in general and to the de Clermont family in particular. They are the oldest, the most impressive, the most influential…yes, they are the best fucking vampires ever. We get it. And when you have the best fucking vampire ever joining forces with the best fucking witch ever, you’ve immediately lost any kind of tension or suspense in the story. There’s very little doubt as to the outcome. Will the Dynamic Duo (along with their adoring entourage) triumph over all the obstacles in their path? Of course. They can’t fail. They’re too perfect. And the obstacles aren't all that difficult.

What’s also perfect is their passionate marital bond. Take notice, all married people: Diana and Matthew are the perfect soulmates. We are repeatedly hammered over the head with the message that yes, they really do love each other. These are a few quotes that grossed me out the most:
Page 15: (after hearing of Emily’s death): “Gallowglass left Matthew and Diana twined together in an unbreakable knot, their faces twisted with pain and sorrow, each giving the other the comfort they could not find for themselves.”
Page 30: “Here, within the circle of his arms, was all that he had ever wanted. A wife. Children. A family of his own.” (A secure job in the family business. Two weeks of paid vacation every year. A lovely home with a white picket fence and one cat, one dog, and a fire drake. Awww. Such sweet, sweet dreams…for a vampire.)
Page 118: “His wife—his heart, his mate, his life—stepped down off the porch and into his arms. Diana’s eyes were the blue and gold of a summer sky, and Matthew wanted nothing more than to fall headlong into their bright depths, not to lose himself but to be found.” Yes, we get it. Rainbows and unicorns and hearts full of love. Of course, since he’s a vamp and she’s a witch, she’s going to age. He won’t. Will their passion still burn so brightly when she’s 60 and wrinkled? Or will he make her a vamp so he has centuries to be possessive and creepy? Whatever their future holds, I’m sure it will be perfect and shiny.

This is a fucked-up mess of a book. Viking, the publisher, apparently does not employ editors. All the other crap aside, it’s basically a dressed-up romance novel. A very conservative romance novel. The supernatural creatures aren’t very supernatural. The vampires are stripped of nearly everything that makes a vampire—and stripped of everything that makes them scary. They are fang-less on many levels. Matthew is a pious Catholic who says things like, “I leave that in the hands of God.” He drinks wine, eats food, and wears a cross. He’s about as scary as a paper cut. These vampires also breathe and have hearts that beats and circulate blood—so why does Diana constantly refer to Matthew’s cold body? Matthew is a fine, upstanding man who just wants a family and to be the CEO of his own dynasty. Diana is a powerful witch, but she’s reluctant to use her powers, even for good. She gladly submits to her husband because that’s what good little wives do. They didn’t even have sex until after their marriage (which very properly produced children). This novel is full of happy domestic scenes. Chapter 33 is all about Christmas. It’s so delightful: “The babies’ first Christmas was as loving and festive as anyone could wish” (449). Oh, goody. It’s as if Harkness is starting a new genre: The “Cozy” Vampire: He Just Wants To Be Loved. Where’s Buffy when you need her?

PS:
No mention of the stretchy black pants! I was so disappointed. Diana's pregnant with twins. Isn't this the perfect time for stretchy black pants?

Matthew gets Diana a six-slice toaster for Christmas. Holy shit. Yup, that's what she wanted and boy was she excited to get it. She used her oh-so-powerful magical skills to turn six (yes, only 6) strands of his hair gray. He's delighted and shows everyone at the big family vampire Christmas gathering. OMG. Could they be any more lame?

ALERT: All Souls Trilogy lovers and haters--BBC is adapting these shitty books for tv. I pity the screenwriter whose job it is to pull a half-way intelligent story from these books. Will I watch it when it airs? Oh, hell yeah.

NEW COMMENT: I have now visited and toured the Bodleian Library of Oxford (as of October 2017). Now that I've been inside (it's not just one big library as I thought), I want to reread parts of the books that deal with the library. I learned that the pneumatic tube note system has been discontinued for quite some time, so if Diana was sending a request via it, it never would have gone anywhere. Personally, I think she was too dumb to study at Oxford and be allowed to use the library.