Contrary to what most everybody here seems to think, this is a mostly stale and incompetent book, which signally fails at establishing its complex, two-tiers mythology (the Greek gods on the one side, depicted in decidely unheroic fashion as worldly, vainglorious buffoons, and magical users on the other side, split between those who can harness power and the remainder who are merely siphoning it off into their body) while never providing motivation enough for its major plot twists. The first encounter between the two leads provides a glaring sample of the desultoriness with which Mrs Burns engineers things: after an usual maddening day at school, passive warlock Theo receives through a messenger a book written by the founder of his college, begins to read it while riding the city's transportation system, boards willy-nilly on a never-seen before subway line which tallies with a mystical map he just chanced upon in said book, and is delivered straight to the outer edge of the Netherworld just in time to be protected from the greedy maws of Cerberus by pussy-whipped godling Lysandros, fresh off another train after travelling up with his mother Persephone and his hellion sisters to buy pumpkins for Halloween (!). The story goes downhill from here, between the two steeply shallow leads (Lysandros is a godling only in name, as for Theo I could not hope to ever reconcile his bumbling behavior and childish internal discourse with those of a college professor seeking tenure, not with such psychological notations as "Theo couldn’t help scrunching his nose a little. He didn’t have any aunts, but he suspected that wouldn’t have made understanding any easier. Most people probably didn’t have aunts who were known to be killers" or "Lysandros’s lips were soft and tasted sweet, like the cup of wine Theo had only managed a single drink from. It was better on someone else’s lips than his own. Or perhaps it was just better on those lips"), the lads' abrupt bonding occurring without any foreshadowing and which increases in such a fashion that it manages to give precious little testimony as to their chemistry, such being Mrs Burns' poor skills at handling romantic build-up, the crazy antics of their respective circles, or the very contrived divine plot involving yet another conspiration against Zeus (after Rick Riordan's cleverly imaginative Percy Jackson and the Olympians #1 The Lightning Thief and Hailey Turner's powerful A Ferry of Bones and Gold, this very story line should not have been revisited again). I am afraid half the book is made of idle chat while the other half amounts to the kind of scatter-brained, all telling and no showing action which could only be penned by a faltering writer with a taste for the hispid, the boring and the colourless (Mrs Burns never even bothers to sketch in any detail, let alone describe, her entire bestiary, occasionally excusing herself for this failure through incredibly naive statements of the kind "the ferryman looked like a mortal. Lysandros supposed Charon had seen enough of passing trends to mimic them. No soul entered the underworld without first meeting him"). As for the descriptive values shown with respect to the characters and the setting, the fittest, severest rebuke shall be a quote: "Lysandros led them through a side door, and Theo was surprised to find that instead of another hallway, they were in a reading room. Three of the four walls were covered in bookcases, and there were two sturdy wingback chairs across from each other in the center", for such pathetic skills have no business in the high fantasy genre. The one-star rating is therefore entirely warranted, if only because a book which purports to offer a fresh new twist on Classical mythography ought at the very least to have rised up to the challenge by being articulate and reasonably atmospheric instead of renouncing and attempting, most fatuously, to make mileage out of ridiculous smoke and mirrors.