When Charmain Baker agreed to look after her great-uncle’s house, she thought she was getting blissful, parent-free time to read. She didn’t realize that the house bent space and time, and she did not expect to become responsible for an extremely magical stray dog and a muddled young apprentice wizard. Now, somehow, she’s been targeted by a terrifying creature called a lubbock, too, and become central to the king’s urgent search for the fabled Elfgift that will save the country. The king is so desperate to find the Elfgift, he’s called in an intimidating sorceress named Sophie to help. And where Sophie is, the great Wizard Howl and fire demon Calcifer won’t be far behind. How did respectable Charmain end up in such a mess, and how will she get herself out of it? [Summary from B&N]
Like Sophie before her, Charmain, upon first meeting her, is rather disagreeable. She’s spoiled, lazy, and her attitude is often holier-than-thou. But – and this is mostly because there had to be something likable about her – she’s a bookworm! And anyway, Charmain is the way she is because of her childhood; her mother, a most respectable woman, would not let her daughter face the indignity of actually doing her own chores, nor would she allow her to practice magic, or do most anything else aside from read. She was left to grow up thinking that everything should be done for her, which explains both the lazy and the spoiled. It also explains one thing I really like about a Diana Wynne Jones novel: characterization. She may mature some, but Charmain never really changes throughout the novel. She remains somewhat annoying, still slightly holier-than-thou, and wholly like someone I might actually know. It’s amazing that I end up liking them despite their annoying and/or silly tendencies.
All that aside, there’s something about Jones’ writing that just works for me. It’s deceptively simple, unfettered, and with both of the novels I’ve read, I find myself charmed by even the little things. Like this scene:
Though the bushes around her were still dripping from the overnight rain, the bench and the table were dry. Charmain sat down and consumed the most enjoyable breakfast she had ever had, warm in the sun and feeling lazy, luxurious, and extremely grown up. The only thing missing is a chocolate croissant, like Dad makes, she thought, sitting back to sip her coffee.
I can exactly put myself in Charmain’s shoes. In fact, if I were younger, this is very much something I would have taken notice of if it were happening to me. And this is a more mundane moment; when Jones starts actively pouring on the magic, filling up rooms with fantasy, I’m a goner. And, thinking as I type, maybe that’s part of the appeal: her magic never feels so far-fetched that I can’t imagine it, that I can’t long for it to be a part of my reality.
House of Many Ways is billed as the sequel to Howl’s Moving Castle, but to me it was more of a companion novel. I’ll admit to being slightly disappointed that Howl wasn’t actually all that prominent in Charmain’s story. At least, not as we know him to be from the first book. And what parts of the story he was in, well, he was still charming, still infuriating, and I still loved him for it.
This past weekend I got the strongest urge to read this book. I was on a jag of starting books and not finishing them, and then I opened this one and read it straight through. Maybe I shouldn’t hope for more Howl because there’s nothing to suggest that anything more is forthcoming, but I will say yes, please, to more Diana Wynne Jones any day.
