The Hammer of Thor can firmly be described as "alright." And by that I mean, it had very good parts and very bad parts, but through a mixture of entertainment value and respect for the author, it landed itself a solid three out of five stars. I may change that later (update: I did), but for now, this is what I'm going with.
Essentially, the first half of The Hammer of Thor was pretty rough, but the second half was able to (mostly) make up for it. And now, on to the good, the bad, and the iffy.
The Good
Sam's Religion In one respect, I do find it strange that this is the only time Rick has explored monotheistic religion in his demigods series (although I suspect that that's about to change), but what really worked with the exploration of Sam's faith was that it actually felt like something genuine and spiritual, not like he was just making a Point (which we'll get to later). It was a very respectful representation, and although it did get a bit heavy-handed at one point, Sam was at her most peaceful and intelligent during the scenes where she practiced and discussed her religion. My only quibble was with her arranged marriage, which I'll get to later on. But for the most part it was very well-done, and I enjoyed being able to learn a small bit about Arabic culture through her.
Fun and Enjoyable to Read I'll be honest: the humor in the last book was simply cringe-worthy. Jack the Magic Talking Sword felt juvenile and cheap to me, the jokes were too pun-y for its own good, and Magnus' pessimism often overshadowed the rest of the story. That's why I was so relieved to see how genuinely funny and enjoyable the prose was this time around. Although I didn't appreciate the pop culture references (they make the book feel dated), the humor was much more subtle and far less obnoxious here. Even with its faults, The Hammer of Thor was still a fun read for me, which is always a good thing.
The Bad
Elf Police Rick had a lot of Points to make with this story, and for the most part, they worked. The exploration of Sam's religion went well, and even though Alex's story felt a bit like an infomercial at times, it still did the trick. However, both of those plots were created to be inclusive and promote acceptance; the evil elf police was not. As an extremely thinly veiled metaphor for the real-life police force, Rick portrays the elf police as being a bunch of racist, elitist jerks who have no purpose in this story other than to be racist, elitist jerks. Even the most vocal of anti-police brutality activists have stated that they don't believe all cops are corrupt or immoral, so to have a pointless scene where we're shown the generalization that they are is extremely disconcerting. Perhaps that wasn't Rick's intention, but that's the way it came across. It was a clunky and poorly-handled addition to the story, and the story suffered because of it.
The Gods In the Percy Jackson books, the gods were often portrayed as quirky and silly, but still capable of having wisdom and other abilities. In the Magnus Chase books, they're dithering idiots. Maybe it's because Rick is running out of plot devices, but being treated to Thor, the smelly, incompetent dullard or Heimdall, the Vine-making airhead, is nowhere near as enticing as when we met Hera, Zeus, Artemis, or any other of the Greek deities. Indeed, this is the one aspect where the The Sword of Summer was actually much better than its successor. Remember when we met Frey and Freya, and actually learned some things about Norse mythology? Or when for a span of five glorious pages, Hel showed up to lay down some serious philosophy and give the concepts of life and death some legitimate perspective? Man, those were the days. With the exception of Loki, an uber-villain, and Sif, the endearing trophy wife, the only gods who managed to peak my interest were Vidar and Sigyn, who were both mute. Needless to say, I found it disappointing.
The Demigods One of the things that made reading a series about demigods so endearing was that it was essentially about young superheroes, only with history thrown in. Camp Half-Blood was so much fun to read about because the kids all had their own powers, each connected in some way to the Greek myths. I realize that Rick needed to make this series different from PJO, but it simply wasn't as enjoyable to read about elves and dwarves as it was about a whole group of unique demigods. Frey is a close counterpart to Apollo, but Magnus' powers aren't nearly as exciting as the Apollo kids' are. Blitzen is a son of Freya, but you wouldn't know it unless someone mentioned it every so often. And Sam and Alex are the children of the same god--Loki--who shape shift occasionally, but usually just throw sharp objects at people. That's not much compared to characters who control water, raise the dead, enchant people with their voices, and summon thunderstorms.
Magnus The big one. Most people will disagree with me on this, but the weakest part of the Asgard series is our very own narrator who, in my opinion, doesn't have a solid personality. There are multiple Magnuses that exist in this story, and it appears that Rick can't figure out which one is the real deal: the angry social justice warrior who hates the upper class and is exceptionally well-versed in cultural rhetoric, the condescending anti-establishment bro who is too enlightened to be your friend, or the funny little dork who loves soap operas and silly puns. I don't think the author ever really figured out what to make of Magnus, and as his desire to address social issues grew, Magnus became his de-facto mouthpiece. It simply doesn't make sense for a scraggly bro like Magnus who only wants to chill and eat falafel to randomly whip out words like "non-heteronormative" and "appropriation." One minute Magnus wants to feed the homeless and protect the vulnerable, and then the next minutes he's mouthing off to anyone who blinks at him the wrong way. Rick seems to be somewhat conscious of these inconsistencies, and tries to cover for it towards the end when he has Alex say, "You pretend like you're all tough and sarcastic or whatever, but you're a big softie." The only issue is, there's no internal struggle that suggests that Magnus is fighting to hide his tender heart. It certainly would fit with his situation--Magnus lost so much and lived such a rough life that it would be only natural for him to have his guard up--but I've read plenty of books where the main character faces this interval vs. external struggle, and they've all been handled better than this. Magnus never has any regrets about being a jerk, nor does he often put himself into another person's shoes. If we're supposed to believe that Magnus is really just a sweet guy who protects himself by acting like he's above everyone else, then that's not what we're given. All it seems like is that Magnus Chase is an inconsistent character whose personality changes based on the narrative.
(Note: while on the subject of the Magnus that hates the upper class, there definitely seems to be a running theme in this book that wealth = low moral character. I find this a bit hypocritical given that Rick is one of the top earning authors in the world. There's something rather distasteful about being lectured on the evils of affluence by a multi-millionaire).
The Iffy
Combination of Religions It's clear that Rick really wanted to write about a Muslim character, and while I do think that he did a great job with this, a whole new level of confusion is added to the story by somehow making monotheism and polytheism exist within the same realm. Add to this that Magnus is somehow an atheist despite being the son of a god who is living in a spiritual afterlife. Just by doing a quick online search, the definition of an atheist is "a person who denies or disbelieves the existence of a supreme being or beings." I believe that Rick decided to make Magnus non-religious because he wanted to give non-religious kids representation, but it doesn't make any sense, thematically, for Magnus to be an atheist when he's the son of one of many "supreme beings." I also don't understand who all these polytheistic religions exist in the same sphere (were the Norse not at all concerned when Gaea returned? Why aren't Norse demigod children trained and protected the way the Roman and Greek ones are? Which afterlife do non-divine mortals go to when they die?) but I'm going to cut Rick some slack here, since it looks like this will be addressed more in future books.
Inconsistencies Forget the timeline issues--I can forgive Rick for giving up on that. But what was the point of Loki confronting Sam's grandparents, only to have them forget about it five days later? Why were they able to forget so easily, but humans in the other series weren't (such as when Piper's father had to have his memory erased)? These weren't huge issues, but they did puzzle me quite a bit.
Alex I like Alex very much (even if she did remind me of Thalia at times), but as mentioned above, discussions of her gender identity often turned into after-school TV specials. I realize that representation is very important to these books, and that certain things have to be explained for the middle-grade audience. However, Rick had already shown that he was able to write about touchy subjects without turning the story into a dissertation with how he portrayed Sam's relationship with Islam (or to go back to the Greeks, with the excellent way he wrote about Nico's sexuality). I understand why Rick was so stringent with how he explained Alex's identity, but I would have preferred that he made it sound more like part of a story and less like a college lecture. (Also, call me crazy, but I'm just not feeling the Magnus/Alex ship. It just doesn't do anything for me *shrugs*).
Sam's Arranged Marriage Both of them, actually. For the engagement to the giant, we've seen this already: it was in The Sea of Monsters, when Grover was pretending to be a cyclops' fiance and needed to be rescued by Percy within a few days' time. As for her other engagement, the legitimate one, I am more conflicted. I like Amir, and I realize that, once again, this is part of Rick trying to promote tolerance and inclusion in his work. However, the irony was not lost on me that despite being an exceedingly socially liberal story, we're somehow supposed to not question the fact that a teenager is being married off by her grandparents simply because it's part of her culture. Respect for other cultures and religions is something that I take very seriously, but I also have met many hijab-wearing Muslim girls in my lifetime, none of whom were engaged at sixteen. This makes me question why Rick felt inclined to include this aspect of Islamic culture in the first place. When eager fans asked if Annabeth and Percy would get engaged anytime soon, Rick had responded that they were much too young--something that I fully agree with. So why then is this not the case with Samirah? Heck, he could have totally avoided this issue by having Sam still be betrothed but not set to actually be wed until after she finished college. But instead, we're specifically told that she and Amir are planning to get married once she turns 18. Much like how I find Rick's regard for wealth in this story to be hypocritical, I also can't help but feel that there's a double standard with this as well. If any other teenage girl were being married off--no matter how likable her fiance is--it would be considered outrageous, but because Sam comes from a culture where this isn't unheard of (albeit not necessarily common in North America, at least from what I've gleaned), it's considered perfectly acceptable.
These are merely my own opinions and observations, and I understand that plenty of people feel differently than I do. All in all, I did enjoy this book, but it had many flaws, and I sincerely hope that the next one is better.