Bartimaeus — (2003-2011) Ages 9-12. Publisher: A witty, gripping adventure story featuring a boy and his not-so-tame djinni. Nathaniel is a young magician's apprentice, taking his first lessons in the arts of magic. But when a devious hotshot wizard named Simon Lovelace ruthlessly humiliates Nathaniel in front of everyone he knows, Nathaniel decides to kick up his education a few notches and show Lovelace who's boss. With revenge on his mind, he masters one of the toughest spells of all: summoning the all-powerful djinni, Bartimaeus. But summoning Bartimaeus and controlling him are two different things entirely, and when Nathaniel sends the djinni out to steal the powerful Amulet of Samarkand, Nathaniel finds himself caught up in a whirlwind of magical espionage, murder, blackmail, and revolt. Set in a modern-day London spiced with magicians and mayhem, this extraordinary, funny, pitch-perfect thriller will dazzle the myriad fans of Artemis Fowl and the His Dark Materials trilogy. And with the rights sold in more than a dozen countries, and a major motion picture in the works, the Bartimaeus trilogy is on the fast track to becoming a classic.
 
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 Amulet of Samarkand
As I've said in previous reviews, if you're going to set your book in England and have as a main character a young boy learning the art of wizardry, you've guaranteed yourself a comparison to Harry Potter. With The Amulet of Samarkand, Jonathan Stroud can proudly say, "bring him on — wands at 15 paces!” With so much pallid fantasy out there, Amulet is a breath of fresh air, told in a witty, original voice within a well-constructed plot and structure focused on two complex characters.
The Amulet of Samarkand is set in an alternate England ruled by magicians whose powers come from their ability to conjure demons. The society is beset within (by a resistance movement of "commoners" as well as by the murderous in-fighting among the ruling class magicians) and without (at war with Prague). Nathaniel is a young magician's apprentice who, after being publicly humiliated, seeks revenge via the demon Bartimaeus and a powerful talisman — the book's namepiece. By the time the book closes, it will involve murder and mayhem, betrayal, the attempted overthrow of the government, ancient (and I mean ancient) grievances, several tense chase scenes, various escape attempts, political commentary, the searing intensity of unassuagable guilt, and more. Despite all that is crammed in here, the plot moves along briskly for the most part (this despite its complexity and the use of footnotes).
Nathaniel is a complex character, giving us easily as many reasons to dislike him as to sympathize with him. He is no paragon of heroism or innocence. The other and much more likeable main character (or perhaps more accurately the true main character) is the demon Nathaniel summons and the trilogy's title character. Unlike Nathaniel, whose section is told in 3rd person, Bartimaeus gets to tell his section of the book himself, lending us a more intimate view and thus allowing us to empathize more directly with him. Even better, his is a wry, cynical voice, bitingly funny. He also has the advantage of centuries of experience to call upon for more material with which to sharpen his wit. His sections are simply a pleasure to read. He too is more complex than is typical in these works. For instance, a scene where he somewhat blithely is willing to kill three young teens with little remorse reminds us he is no tame funny pet for either Nathaniel or the reader.
While Nathaniel's main antagonist, an evil wizard whose plots really aren't that out of character for magicians in general it turns out, is perhaps one of the weaker characters — a bit bland in both villainy and dialogue, the various demon antagonists of Bartimaeus are all wonderful creations, especially his two long-running nemeses whom he comes across several times. The structure moves back and forth skillfully between Bartimaeus's first person narration and the third-person description of what is happening with Nathaniel, pulling away from one to the other at just the right moments to create the greatest suspense. It is all deftly handled with no confusion whatsoever. The story itself is well-paced and complex enough to keep the reader guessing. It ends independently but with enough loose ends to point to an obvious sequel, which I eagerly await. Very highly recommended. And having now completed all three books, I can say that the whole Bartimaeus series is one of the best to come out in the past decade, with a slight fall off in book two then a simply fantastic conclusion in book three. —Bill Capossere
 The Golem's Eye: Good sequel, lacks a bit of the spark, a little too long
The Golem's Eye is a solidly enjoyable if slightly disappointing follow-up to The Amulet of Samarkand, which admittedly set itself a very high standard. The book returns to the same setting and characters first introduced in Samarkand, while expanding upon the first novel with a few new characters, one new setting (Prague) and a somewhat more complicated plot.
As in the first book, the major story involves a plot against the government which Nathaniel the young ambitious wizard must confront with his much more wise and experienced (and acidic) djinn, Bartimeus. Suspects are the Prague Council, a traitor within the British govt., someone bent on personal revenge, and the Resistance, including young Kitty from book one.
All the strengths of the first book remain, though diluted somewhat in execution. Stroud's world, a modern-day England where demon-summoning, backstabbing wizards rule in luxury over a mostly-complacent lower class and a small minority of rebels, is nicely detailed in touches both large and small. Beside the major plot conflicts, there is a constant undercurrent of tension caused by the larger societal conflicts (magic versus unmagic, upper-class versus lower class, natives versus immigrants), infighting among several groups (the ruling magicians, the smaller Resistance movement), and tangential references to outside conflicts (impending war with America, continuing strain within the empire with regard to conquered areas, especially Prague). Not to mention the inherent hostility between the wizard-rulers and their summoned/captive demons, wonderfully captured in one of my favorite scenes.
The structure, which switches point-of-view among Nathaniel, Kitty, and Bartimeus remains an effective device though for some reason doesn't seem quite so smoothly done as in Samarkand.
Character development is as strong, however, as all three of the major characters — Nathaniel, Kitty, Bartimeus — face several major turning points and personal crises. These are fully fleshed out characters here exhibiting a range of emotions and reactions, a range of traits both positive and negative, all of them believable and realistic. As in book one, Stroud is not afraid to have one of his major characters, Nathaniel, be highly unlikeable in places. Kitty is certainly more likeable, while Bartimeus remains the most enjoyable.
That last is part of the problem here for he is also the one least present in The Golem's Eye. When he is on the page, he carries the book along swiftly with a bitingly funny narrative voice. When he isn't there, his absence is sometimes strongly felt. Certainly for those who loved Samarkand in large part for the voice of Bartimeus, his lessened presence here is cause for some small disappointment.
The book is also too long; it easily could have lost a hundred or so pages which would have not only sped things along a bit but also would have given Bartimeus proportionately more space.
The plots are interesting and while they are "resolved" so that the book can stand on its own, there are enough unanswered questions that one wants to move right on to the next book in the series. And while each of the major characters develops throughout the book, he/she/it is left still unformed, still in the process of becoming. Wanting to learn how they turn out is an even more compelling lure than the ongoing plot.
Disappointing with respect to its predecessor, but Samarkand was so good it should come as no surprise if Stroud didn't quite match it. As its own book, The Golem's Eye is still highly enjoyable, though readers will probably wish the parts with Bartimeus were more frequent and the other sections not as long. Still a strong recommendation with a lot of anticipation for the next one. —Bill Capossere
 The Ring of Solomon
Fans of Jonathan Stroud’s fantastic Bartimaeus Trilogy, which began with The Amulet of Samarkand and ended with Ptolemy’s Gate, will be happy to know that the title character — the wise-cracking fourth-level djinn who has long-standing issues with authority — is back and funny as ever in The Ring of Solomon.
Rather than continue the story of the first trilogy, though, or give us a typical “here’s what happened just before” prequel, Stroud has chosen to set this new story thousands of years earlier during the time of, well, Solomon (the title’s a bit of a giveaway). Luckily, when your main character is basically immortal, that isn’t a problem. Bartimaeus’ favorite bête noire Faquarl, a fellow djinn with whom he’s matched insults and blows for millennia, is back as well. Otherwise, we’ve an entirely new setting and a whole new cast of characters. Since Bartimaeus was the greatest strength of the trilogy, though, the loss of the others makes little difference.
The book opens in Jerusalem, where Bartimaeus and Faquarl have been summoned into the service of a cruel Egyptian magician, Khaba, who is himself in service to King Solomon. Years ago Solomon discovered a magic ring of immense power that allows him to summon untold numbers of minor and major spirits, as well as the Spirit of the Ring itself, a forbiddingly powerful demon. Solomon uses the threat of the ring to gather around himself a cadre of magicians whose summoned demons he employs to build his temple, help his people, and cow neighboring realms. One such realm is Sheba, whose queen has several times rejected Solomon’s marriage proposal.
The Ring of Solomon follows several plotlines. One is Bartimaeus’ trouble in behaving while under the whip (literally) of Khaba, who has his own powerful and mysterious demon protector. Bartimaeus’ troubles with Khaba open up another storyline as the two, along with Faquarl, get sent into the hinterlands to deal with the bandits who have been ambushing caravans. There, Bartimaeus meets Asmira, a Queen’s Guard from Sheba who has been sent on a suicide mission to assassinate Solomon and steal his ring. Her attempt to do so, and Bartimaeus’ involvement, makes up much of the latter half of the book.
As with the earlier trilogy, Bartimaeus’ voice — he narrates the entire book — is the reason to read The Ring of Solomon. Oh, the story itself is more than adequate. There are some twists and turns, a few surprising developments. Asmira develops as a character in realistic and (by the end) moving fashion. But it’s that singular, sarcastic, boasting, footnoting, narcissistic voice that carries you along. Whether he’s namedropping (“When I was spear-bearer to Gilgamesh”), regaling the reader with his exploits (“yours truly forgetfully popping out to buy some figs in the guise of a rotting corpse, thus causing the Great Fruit Market Terror”), or even offering up cooking advice (“one roc’s egg, scrambled, feeds roughly 700 wives”) it’s a voice you can’t help but get sucked in by.
I laughed out loud on several occasions, read lines and passages to my wife on others, and simply reveled in the voice the rest of the time. Stroud tempers the sarcasm with a true warmth in the tone. Bartimaeus may play the gruff demon who hates all humans (he does, in fact, eat one in the novel), but even Faquarl calls him out on his act: “This has always been your trouble! Getting all softheaded over a human just because she’s got a long neck and a steely eye.”
In the trilogy, Bartimaeus was a major character, but one of several who shared the narrative spotlight. With The Ring of Solomon, Stroud has stripped down the characters and streamlined the plot, making this more YA than the trilogy and letting Bartimaeus’ voice shine on every page. It doesn’t have the depth or complexity of the earlier books, but is no less enjoyable for that. I highly recommend it and am hoping for more. After all, there’s a gap of a few thousand years to fill in between this book and the first of the trilogy… lots of time and opportunity for Bartimaeus to get in more trouble. —Bill Capossere
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