I read TROLL FELL years ago and absolutely loved it, so it was a pleasure reading the second installment. This second book shows some emotional growth in Peer and no easy solutions for his quest to become independent and win the girl he crushes on. He's not ready for independence quite yet, and sometimes in life (but rarely in fiction) the boy doesn't get the girl. Sometimes the demons--or Uncle Baldurs--of our past still tower over us, without any easy fix. Sometimes a boy looks like an ungainly heron, not a hero. Some hard experiences here for Peer.
I admired this novel's unflinching attention to Peer's dilemmas and to the overall murky moral circumstances. Peer has a slightly older friend, Bjorn, who apparently stole a seal woman to be his bride. Peer moves from condemning Bjorn to supporting him, and I appreciated this emotional arc so much--sometimes our friends will make choices that we don't applaud or fully understand, but they are still our friends. A lesser author would have cleaned this part up, and made Bjorn "rescue" the seal maiden or some such nonsense. Langrish lets characters make mistakes or make choices that aren't obviously the right ones, and she makes her leading character wrestle with this world of moral grays. She also is unafraid to write a story in which women are not paired up just to suit the needs of the male characters. Partly for this reason, the omniscient narrator picks up Hilde's and Gudrun's points of view. Some people don't like multiple points of view, and we all have our favorites and least favorites when an author chooses this style of narration, but I think it works here--it lets you see that there is more to this world than Peer's desires. It shows you that Hilde cares for Peer, just not in that way. And Gudrun coming home to an empty nest was a truly powerful moment that rose the novel's stakes (though this tension was undercut by the twin's almost risk-free adventure into the heart of the troll-world…maybe to make the story less frightening to children perhaps).
It's a beautifully rendered world. I could tell you about the lubbers or Granny Green-teeth or the Nis, but even on the level of the sentence, that vibrant world comes across. I'll just give you a sample paragraph:
"Glancing downhill, Peer felt poised like a bird, high above the world. He could imagine jumping right down into the valley. The woods below looked soft enough to stroke, like the tufts of wool in Gudrun's scrap basket. Here and there a white sparkle betrayed the stream, flickering with waterfalls. There was a dark spot buried among the trees" (101).
One thing you'll notice is that this isn't a fast-paced prose style in which you zip past pages in a blur of text. Rather, it rewards you for reading and for seeing the world along with Peer. You can feel Peer's uplifted spirits as he looks down, and the world is completely visualized in all its layers--the birdlike heights, the steep depth of the valley, the underlying layer of the stream, and the foreboding blot on the landscape, that mill just visible as a dark spot. But the other thing I like besides the visual sweep are the similes, especially the second one--the billowy tufts of wool from Gudrun's basket. Even if you don't knit or weave, you can feel what that wool feels like, and you can superimpose that feeling onto the valley's appearance. You just want to dive right in. I feel like I've seen the world through Peer's eyes and experienced metaphor that would only come from a medieval-type person like him. It's lovely writing, and renders an evocative world.