Sharp Words

10 out of 10

There’s no special reason for me to review this book – it isn’t a first-time read for me, from the library or sent as an advanced reading copy. In fact, The Unlikely Ones was first published in 1986 and I’ve read it at least a dozen times since discovering it (alright, in the library, but I have my own copy now), when I was about 13. It’s one of my favourite books ever, and that’s why I decided to review it, and why it scores my first 10 out of 10.

A lot of the novels I loved in my teens, particularly the fantasy novels, just haven’t stood the test of time. When I re-read them now, although I can understand why I liked them so much (and in many cases, continue to like them), I can see their flaws only too well. Sometimes the writing just doesn’t match up to what I’ve become used to. Sometimes the characterisation is poor, or the plot a bit thin or too clichéd – though Dave King over at Pics and Poems had an interesting viewpoint on clichés recently, about how many of what we now see as clichés weren’t when they were first written.

But The Unlikely Ones stands out for me as a novel that’s as fresh and interesting and fun now as it was when I first read it, some twenty years ago.

It’s the story of Thing, a young girl trapped as a witch’s familiar. Hunch-backed and so ugly that she has to wear a mask, she’s barely able to speak properly since she talks mostly – in thoughts, movements and noises – to the animals imprisoned with her: crow Corby, toad Puddy, cat Moglet, and fish Pisky. Each of them carries a coloured pebble which cripples them in some way; it’s not giving away anything to say that the pebbles are actually jewels stolen by the witch from a dragon (since that’s the first chapter of the novel). The witch has also cursed – and trapped and crippled in different ways – a unicorn (Snowy) and a knight (Conn).

Following the witch’s rather unpleasant demise, these seven come together and travel to meet the Ancient, an aged wizard (reminiscent of Merlin in The Sword in the Stone) who gives them a quest to rid themselves of their various burdens and heal their woes. This quest takes them all over mediaeval Britain, in seven stages – a task for each – with adventures that bind them ever closer. But the end of these tasks isn’t the end of their quest, as they must then travel to find the dragon who can help them all – and to help him in their turn. And even that isn’t the end, because the story continues with how losing their curses and troubles then changes them.

So what exactly makes this fairly straightforward tale one of my favourites? Well, it’s an interesting and different take on the ‘quest’ theme common in fantasy, especially so for a novel written in the 80s when fantasy fiction was really developing its structures and the plots and ideas that became its own cliches. Much of what happens is fairly predictable, but it’s how it happens that’s important; and there’s a real-ness to the outcome of events that for me is more enjoyable than the kind of outcomes produced by what I call narrative imperative (in other words, the way stories happen because that’s how stories work).

It’s the characters, and the bonds between them, and the way these are written, that really make the story for me though. Apart from a few chapters written in the third person, the story is told from Thing’s point of view, and both the changes and the constants of her character – and those of her friends – are shown equally strongly.  Puddy the toad is slow and wise; Pisky the fish is demanding and energetic; Moglet the kitten is timid and loving; Corby the crow is bold and irreverent; Snowy the un-horned unicorn is wise and gentle; Sir Connor Ciaran O’Connell of Hirland (to grant him his full name) is loyal and caring and wonderfully obtuse (well, he is a man)… Thing herself shares qualities with all of them, and loves them all dearly (Conn a bit differently to the others), and they love and trust her in return. The importance of true companionship is probably one of the strongest themes of the novel (and definitely the reason that I spend most of the last thirty pages in quiet tears, every single time) – though also very important is the fact that simple things can actually be complex, and conversely, complicated things can have straightforward solutions.

The style of writing in The Unlikely Ones can sometimes be a bit long-winded (with even longer paragraphs that I criticised The Heretic’s Daughter for!), but it’s humorous and tender, sometimes bawdy (though never particularly crude), sometimes whimsical and irreverent, and always has a clear, confident voice. And this makes the novel for me. It struck me after finishing reading it for the umpteenth time that I’ve never actually read anything else by Mary Brown (although I know she died some years ago) – she did write a few other novels though, and they’ve been added to my Amazon wishlist!

If you like fantasy novels; if you like tales of triumph against adversity; if you like gentle humour; if you like animals (this is a bit of a must, actually), a touch of magic and a soupçon of historical colour, then track down a copy of The Unlikely Ones and enjoy it. (It’s just a shame about the cover-art on the current edition – that for the one I originally read was far more appropriate).