Okay, either I'm getting used to this style just in time for the series to end or it really did take him four books to find his groove because this is the first book to grab me and give me some inkling of what the series' potential could have been.
Of course it could be that the cover art looks like someone's tribute to what they were told a Walton Ford painting looked like, which I'm kind of okay with. It’s the little things, sometimes.
I've said numerous times throughout the series that it never felt like it was conceived as a story with four separate acts so much as one long one that either the publisher or author chopped into four parts for deadline or sales reasons and if anything these last two books only give credence to that theory. I can't name two many important things that happened in the first two books other than Miranda and her friends arriving in magical Roumania. Sure, there's been a lot of feinting, with the Baroness wandering about playing footsie with the politics, Miranda's friends/bodyguards trying to adjust themselves to their new combination of past and present lives and Miranda herself wandering around a bit vaguely waiting for something to happen.
Then, just like that, it starts.
The third book started to point us in that direction, mostly because of Andromeda/Sasha Prochenko taking the reins and forcing the plot to actually do something. Miranda got captured, then escaped, the Baroness shot her own kid by accident, demons were unleashed on the world, the politics on the ground shifted slightly . . . and Prochenko killed the Baroness.
Its handled discreetly at the end of the third book but the act is much clearer as the last book starts, as everyone reacts to her demise and our heroic trio gets scattered. Peter Gross gets sent off to war, Prochenko is about being generally resourceful and Miranda is sort of getting a handle on things, all the while laying low while the political situation deteriorates massively. While the early books could be accused of a certain murkiness when it came to the machinations of the plot, the characters here have been replaced by people with more coherent motivations an thus it becomes much easier to figure out what's going on and what everyone's goals are. Yes, some of them have been pared down to that easily digestible notion of survival but even the political stuff becomes easier to manage, turning the book into a sparring dance between what a country envisions itself to be and what pragmatism says it should be.
It helps that the magical stuff starts to make more sense. Miranda spends time simultaneously in the real world and the "hidden world" which sounds like a trendy New Age speakeasy staffed by mixologists who don't make you drinks as much as help you conceive the taste of the drink in your mind (and then still want a tip) but it gives Parks a chance to tap into the mythological vein the series was always wanting to delve into. In a world where the dead aren't dead just more annoyed versions of themselves Miranda encounters the past trying to kill her as much as people with bullets are trying to kill her. And despite being dead the dear Baroness isn't out of the picture yet.
All this leads to a book that feels like actual stakes are in play for once as opposed to everyone meandering about until something blows up or the book ends. With Prochenko stealing the show as always (and while conversations between Peter and Miranda feel pulled straight of YA territory, there's a pull and ache to her talks with Prochenko, who still comes across as Andromeda) matters escalate until it feels there might be actual consequences to all of this. When Miranda is essentially hijacked it feels like a glove being thrown down and everyone reacts to it like an activated grenade, unsure of what to do but everyone eying each other in the hopes that someone decides to throw themselves on it first.
It works, mostly and up to a point. A masquerade ball where all the players and political/magical/spiritual conflicts collide feels like something the book was leading up to all along and its denouement is in its own way heartbreaking. Unfortunately for the book it ends far too early and leaves us with another part that feels like an elongated epilogue as Miranda and her remaining friend attempt to tie up some loose ends that feel exactly like the author trying to tie up loose ends. It goes on for too long, serving to dissipate the drama that had come before it and still somehow feels perfunctory. Its only in the closing sequences that the book finally seems to grasp its own tragedy, the sorrow of growing up without getting a chance to grow up, the choices between where you are and where you were and the pains of staying in either place, and how knowing anything never seems to explain anything, at best only hints at what questions to ask next.
His prose is marvelous there and lyrical throughout the entire novel, finally dispensing with concrete descriptions of anything and full-on embracing writing by feel, so that the texture of it all becomes much more immersive . . . you may not "get" Roumania as much as Parks wants you to but maybe you begin to get a sense of why he wanted to write about it.
Does it work though, as a series? I don't know. Its definitely a mixed bag, taking over two and a half books before it even started to "click" for me and while I starting to become attuned by the allure toward the end it felt too little too late. Miranda never really coheres as a protagonist to root for. Of her friends Peter doesn't do much better than she did, seemingly muffled under layers of gauze, while Prochenko becomes the real find, a man in a girl's body, two people at once seemingly integrated and confident in their own abilities. Parks combination of alternate history, magic and political dealing never quite merges into the potent brew he wants it to be . . . even the hidden world concept becomes confusing at times, like two different books overlaid on top of each other. Each section when isolated has its own baroque and interesting moments but it feels like how he envisioned the series, a girl coming of age in a world not quite our own and establishing her own place in its myths and folklore just never comes to pass. The characters deaden the world and the world deadened the characters but the help each needed to stand on its own never came to pass. It had its moments but ultimately it becomes like the legendary beast Miranda is supposed to embody, seen through a distant haze and just sharp enough to get a glimpse of the majesty its been suggested it has. But then just before you can blink and bring it into real focus, it turns to stare back at you with a gaze with could be rife with meaning, or mean nothing at all before slinking away into the forest as less than a shadow, gone and leaving behind only a rapidly fading memory of perhaps what you thought once saw, without even the weight of tracks to remind you.