Year of the Griffin (not 'The' Year of the Griffin, by the way) is set in the same universe as The Dark Lord of Derkholm and their common source The Tough Guide to Fantasyland, but, bar a few cross references, works equally well as a standalone. Set eight years after Dark Lord, the story is centred on the young griffin Elda who is in her first year of University. Yes, a student griffin. At a university for wizards. You just know that things aren't going to be straightforward. And so it proves: one cohort of student freshers find that their expectations of university are disappointed, their families or communities back home are, to say the least, unsupportive; and yet, despite all the obstacles and challenges (and there are many) they – Felim, Ruskin, Claudia, Olga, and Lukin, as well as Elda – start to grow and develop both as magic-users and as individuals. There are lots of images of circularity and sphericity here, compounded by the fact that none of the images are perfect. Take the Year of the title: we never actually witness the end of the year as most of the action is set in the autumn term. There are lots of references to oranges, but mostly always to mention the fact that they come apart in segments. One of the students frequently becomes protected by an accidental spell taking the form of a barrel made up of books, appropriately enough for a learning institution, which only evaporates when the danger has passed. A group of students, along with Professor Corkoran (the name no doubt inspired by the unfortunate captain of HMS Pinafore), heads off in a spherical space vehicle for the moon (though they inexplicably find themselves on Mars); sadly, they haven't thought things through and the lunar module, designed to be life-sustaining, threatens to end their existence. The circular theme is reinforced by David Wyatt's splendid but initially enigmatic cover illustration for the original Gollancz paperback: it shows a golden griffin through a round window (one of her feathers is in the foreground), which we eventually realise is part of a barrel viewed from above (or below, it's ambiguous, despite the darts sticking in its side); there's also a visual example of a wizard's attempt to enclose oranges in a metal shell (don't ask why) that effectively renders them cannonballs, unfit for their original purpose. Why the recurrent fallible examples? Maybe because nothing ever turns out perfect in this story. (Except the ending, perhaps.)Then there is the young griffin, Elda, who contrary to the sound of her name is the youngest in a family of humans and test-tube beings. Part-lion, part-eagle, part-human, Elda pitches in with a bunch of other misfit students who are all also escaping from the expectations of their families or communities. In fact, Year of the Griffin is, underneath the joyous storytelling, inventive fantasy and punning witticisms, a critique of a number of social institutions in this, our own world. Foremost of the critiques is that reserved for the corrosive effects of conformity, whether imposed by traditions, laws or sheer ignorance. Typical is the attitude of academia at the university, which suppresses creative thinking and practical magic in favour of dry rote-learning and limited outcomes. A graduate of Oxford University, with a partner who is Emeritus Professor of English at Bristol University, Jones will have been well aware of the politicking that goes on in academia the world over, the inevitable conflicts between research and teaching needs, the financial considerations that underpin every decision and policy, and the human weaknesses to which all scholarship is prey. No surprise then that the Wizard University is riddled with accidents waiting to happen. And that they do.Bar a couple of excursions, pretty much all the action takes place within the confines of the campus. At times this can be claustrophobic, but the students are often able to escape to the world of books or seek companionship amongst like-minded magic-users. In fact, Year of the Griffin is an almost Shakespearean comedy ('comedy' in all senses of the word) which, barring the calls of Morpheus, I could hardly put down over the period of just a few days. Why Shakespearean? Well, typically for Shakespeare, young male and female protagonists frequently get hitched by the end of the action (as in 'Midsummer Night's Dream', 'Much Ado' and so on), frequently with multiple pairings on the cards. Secondly, things don't start to go right till at the end, when often a ruler steps in to call a halt to the mayhem and gives a judgement (Wizard Policant, aided by Chancellor Querida, fulfills this role). And thirdly, magic, or the pagan past, often is a crucial part of the story to emphasise that this is hyper-reality.No apologies are needed, I believe, for such an extended (if obviously incomplete) commentary on what some might argue is just a children's fantasy novel. But Diana Wynne Jones hardly ever wrote a straightforward story in her preferred genre: her young adult fantasies nearly always work on several levels rather than just as a superficial narrative. As the mythical griffin was regarded as the guardian of gold, so Year of the Griffin conceals real treasures between its covers.
Every now and then I have the urge for a comforting re-read, a diverting read that will be unlike real life enough to hold back the flood for a couple of hours. Year of the Griffin is one of those books for me, a lovely, reliable read about a group of young adults (both human and otherwise) at a school for wizards. Predating Harry Potter by three years, Diana Wynne Jones made her own foray into the traditional field of English magical schools and succeeds in marvelous, whimsical fashion.Elda, the youngest griffin daughter of the famous wizard Derk, has enrolled at the nearly broke Wizards’ University without her father’s knowledge. It isn’t long before she meets a like-minded and curious group of friends: Ruskin, a revolutionary dwarf; Olga, a mysteriously wealthy and beautiful woman; Claudia, the outcase half-Marshwoman sister of the ruler of the Emperor of the South; Lukin, the heir of the Kingdom of Luteria, and Felim, incognito from the country of the Emir to prevent assassins from learning his location. During introductions on the first day, Wizard Corkoran realizes his plan to solicit their families for more money won’t work since the students are either poor or in hiding. Unfortunately, he’s rapidly distracted by his project to be the first man to land on the moon and forgets to pass the word on to the administrative team, thus setting a wild chain of events in motion. Subsequent events include a flying horse, a bushel of oranges, a trip to the library, assassins, pirates, more griffins, a statue, twue love and cats.Characterization is fun; all are reasonably developed and their bonding over shared academic and family frustrations seem entirely natural. In the long tradition of magical schools, it is refreshing to have a griffin and dwarf be part of the student mix, along with a few other representatives of countries/kingdoms in this world. It creates an interesting sense of diversity within the group. When their families come into play, each student gains a little more focus and detail. There is also an innocence and ingeniousness about the students that makes their efforts toward improvement quite sweet and not at all malicious. Eventually, a few members of the group and incoming supporting cast end up pairing off, but any romance is gentle and exists mostly in the area of hand-holding and shared company. The setting feels like a typical medieval fantasy setting, with carts and horses, fires for warmth and the like. It isn’t too fleshed out, but allows Jones to concentrate on characterization and action.Plotting is fun. Driven initially by the disclosure that the six are currently students at the university, the converging families and chaos propel the action forward. When the six students realize trouble is headed their way, they band together. The spell-traps they create to protect one of their members are priceless fun. Corkoran’s focus on the moon shoot is especially entertaining from a real-world point of view.I actually read this long before Dark Lord of Derkholm, so although it says “sequel,” don’t be put off. Most of the main characters from Dark Lord are only peripheral, and the preceding events are only responsible for the ruins of the college, not really what is happening to it now. The prior parallel worlds do help explain away some of the similarities and the stereotypes, quite clever on the part of Jones. However, the tone and conflicts of the two books are different enough that I wouldn’t call them a duology at all. Consider the second an insightful “whatever happened to –” installment.Though the characters are young adult and the resolutions of issues neat, it is not a simple book by any means in concepts or language. Overall, it is very light in tone, the perfect kind of read when one needs a happy ending.Highly recommended.Re-read and updated 8/14
What do You think about Year Of The Griffin (2012)?
DWJ Book Toast, #13Diana Wynne Jones is one of my favorite fantasy authors, growing up and now, and I was saddened by the news of her death. I can't say I'm overcome with emotion - as personal as some of her work is to me, its not like I knew her after all - but I wish I could put into words how I feel about her no longer being out there, writing new adventures and laughing at all of us serious fans thinking so hard about her words when we should simply get on with the business of enjoying them.And that's...what I'm going to do. She's left behind a huge body of work, a large amount of which I haven't read yet, so I'm going to reread all my old favorites (and hopefully some new). Diana Wynne Jones was the absolute worst when it came to sequels. This book is not bad necessarily bad, it just takes a long time to find its groove. Which is unusual for her. It's doubly unusual too for being a direct sequel. Unlike with, say, Castle in the Air or Witch Week, you need to have read Dark Lord of Derkholm to enjoy this book at all. Jones does her best to circumvent this with a dump of exposition in the early pages of Year of the Griffin, and other than Elda, youngest griffin daughter of Wizard Derk, you don't see much of any character from Dark Lord until much later in the book. Still, it's not enough. Too much just won't make sense without the reference point of the first book.I'm going to go out on a limb and say that, with the possible exception of the Dalemark Quartet (which I haven't read yet), this is the ONLY Diana Wynne Jones sequel where that is the case. That was one of her foremost talents, she created stories and worlds so complete that you might want to read more about it/them, but you didn't really need to. I'm not sure what motivated this book. Because most of her sequels were also many, many years apart from each other. This is only 2 (but the story advances 9). It was just confused and didn't have the strong central point (like the Tours, like Derkholm's family dynamic) that ties the story together. Its a series of events that ultimately doesn't add up. Especially when you remember the Gods' statement at the end of Dark Lord of Derkholm: (view spoiler)[[To help rebuild the world] "We give you the children of the Wizards Derk and Mara" (hide spoiler)]
—Myles
This book is set seven or eight years after the Dark Lord of Derkholm, in a world that is finally recovering from the impact of Mr Chesney's Pilgrim Parties. It is set in the University, and follows Elda (one of Derk's daughters and also coincidently a very large griffin) and her group of friends as they start to learn magic and to solve some of the University's mysteries. I enjoyed this book rather more than the first one. The characterisation is a lot better and the plot is a rather charming pastiche of the traditional English school story, written before Harry Potter made fantasy school mash-ups common. An imaginative outing from an excellent author.
—Karen
I think I loved this even more than The Dark Lord of Derkholm. While I read the last book as a deconstruction of fantasy in general, this book is a fantasy campus novel! Ha! I imagine kids reading this book then six or seven years arriving at college and going "oooooh shit! this is what Diana was on about!"After years of cranking out wizards to serve as glorified tour guides for visitors from our dimension, the wizarding school welcomes new students for a brand new world free of their accountant overlord. Except there is a problem - the teachers are the same narrow benighted students compressed down into technical little boxes and still teach the same limited magic. Everything taught is practical and job specific, there is no core theory or history or creativity in this educational institution. The glorious job of the new students, a griffin and a dwarf amongst them, is to subvert all this crap and think for themselves, perhaps even encourage the professors to think for themselves.The only thing that makes this book a fantasy book is that there is light at the end of the tunnel for these students. Unfortunately the children who read this book today will undoubtedly have to contend with cash strapped colleges and universities under great pressure to churn out technocrats trained in their narrow field rather than rounded, creative human beings.----------------Now the the above might make this book sound like some sort of dry allegory or novel of ideas. But while not a page of Jones' work passes without the whip-smack of her intellect, she is also shockingly good at creating living, breathing, sometimes cranky individuals. I especially love Elda, the griffin of the title and her crush on a particular professor - and the scathing portrait of that professor is my next favourite thing. Really a stunningly, yet quietly subversive, book!
—Jay Daze
