Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert...what are we doing here?
Like many of the reviews here, I read about half of this series as a child, working my way through every fantasy series my small Christian school had to offer me. I remember the colorful covers and vaguely the idea of a group of teens going on cool adventures through a variety of fantasy settings. Now as an adult, my curiosity has gotten the better of me and I have returned to finish the series out and see how it ends.
Some notes on this read-through:
- The map is almost entirely worthless. Why did I bother constantly turning back to it? Besides looking like it was drawn by a child it bears so little resemblance to the story being told its laughable. Half the named features on the map will never appear in the book at all (Old Trail, Darkwood, Mangos River, Murkwood, Lost River, High Places, The Gulf etc) while several of the main locations in the book are not placed on the map at all (The Roaring Horse River, which is the location for the novel's big fake-out death scene for the main character, is not drawn in), while yet others are simply out of place, such as the Tower, which is mentioned when the characters are near the place it is put on the map, but then the only Tower that appears later in the story is in the Sanhedrin City, (marked, "The Temple" on the map, though never called that in the story) Much like the prose in this book, it is filled with so many blanks and gaps that I guess you are supposed to fill them in with your own imagination.
- On that note, it is also unclear how large Nuworld is supposed to be. Is it the entirety of the United States in post-apocalyptic form? Is it a few square miles? The narrative rarely makes this clear as at times the characters seem to be making weeks long Tolkien-esque journies across a vast land, and at other times locations clear across the map from each other are reached in a matter of hours.
- The entire first chapter introduces both our main leads as struggling with pre-teen body issues and embarrassment due to puberty. It comes off exactly like you'd think someone in their mid-sixties trying to remember what being a teenager was like would write. Here's a gem from page two: "[Josh] was thinking how Sarah would be just like the other girls at school who made fun of him and his appearance. Now there were two things wrong with this. In the first place, the girls were NOT making fun of him. Instead, they were noticing that he was filling out and getting to be good-looking. In the second place, Sarah did not disapprove of him...she had just passed out of the leggy, coltish stage that some girls go through and knew very well Josh's feelings of inadequacy."
Gag me.
Luckily this never come up after the first chapter and has no real bearing on the already thin character development.
- Josh is hostile towards Sarah in the first chapter because her parents are missionaries. In the very next chapter he starts hearing the audible voice of God and barely even bats an eye. Also, since Sarah's parents are missionaries, you would imagine she would be a bit skeptical of Goel or at least ask him why he doesn't just call himself Jesus, since that's obviously who he is (He keeps saying, "You'll know me by other names someday," a clear Aslan copy, but with none of the style of Lewis), at the very least you'd think she would mention the real Christian ideas that the story analogues, but for whatever reason Morris never mentions.
- Are the dwarfs and giants and snake people all deformed humans? Crusoe, the Obi-Wan "kangaroo" like hunchback who is the kids mentor for the book (although he spends half the book in a coma, which he wakes up from periodically to issue some cryptic bit of advice), turns out to just be Josh's scientist Dad, so maybe?
- Why did Morris pick a fifty year gap in the first place? Was it just to have the surprise Dad reveal at the end (which really just begs more questions about why Crusoe wasn't more helpful for the entire plot of the book)? Most of the questions I find myself having that take me out of the story would be resolved if this was supposed to be taking place a thousand years later or some other number that would provide that sense of fantastical otherworldliness. But fifty years is just so ordinary.
- A lot of weird non-sequiturs in this book in service of its ham-fisted lessons. For instance one of the major plot devices is that characters sing songs that hold spiritual and semi-magical powers. All the doors that guard the Seven Sleepers are opened by singing to them. How does Josh figure this out? He remembers something his mother wrote in her journal about speaking to fear and telling it to leave...so he sings to a door and it opens for him. Growing up in a "word of faith" community this ideology feels familiar, but it is so jarring the way it is unceremoniously plunked down into this fantasy story I had to do a double take to make sure I hadn't missed some context. An action I performed many times while reading.
- Ah yes, Humphrey Bogart, an entirely normal piece of common American iconography that any teenager in the 90s would instantly have recognized as a "great film star".
- It makes sense how Josh's and Sarah's cryogenic chambers end up where they do, they seem to be government installations (an abandoned missile silo and a grounded submarine) but how did the other sleepers end up where they are, and why is one of them literally at the top of the evil city, completely unguarded?
- In general, the past lives and contexts for how the characters arrived in their chambers is completely unexplored. Seven times the reader is forced to swallow the idea that a teenager wakes up in a fantasy universe, makes a few character-identifying quips, then just enters seamlessly into the adventure, no questions asked, fully accepting not only everything they see, but the entire motivation for the story - to collect these seven people because of visions and voices in their heads. Also, you never get to see any of these explanatory dialogues, they, like most of the important pieces of character development and world building, are simply relayed in bullet-point like synopsis.
On the whole, entire book reads more or less like this. "First this happened. Then this other thing happened for no reason. Then a character felt something. Then they immediately got over it because they just moved on to the next plot point. Rinse and repeat seven or eight times over."
-I also just want to say that the waking of each Sleeper, something that could read in a really engaging way for the target pre-teen audience, is always rendered in the most flat and bland way possible. Morris uses the same boring description involving the pushing of a big red button with the word "Awake" on it (Guess none of the Sanhedrin ever thought to just push it and kill the kid sleeping at the top of their tower?). The kid just sits up, we're told what their hair color is and how good looking they are, and then they blurt out their super generic and easily forgettable name. I mean, Josh Adams, Sarah Collingwood, Jake Garfield, Dave Cooper, what kind of sheet-rock bland names are those?
- There are no Ghosts in the Ghost Marshes.
- The "Uprising", a vague rebel group that is never really explored, but mentioned a few times, provides us with a handful of pointless characters the Sleepers meet when they are all inexplicably shoved into the same roomy jail cell, complete with bunks, food stores, and apparently some kind of cozy common area for a heart to heart chat between characters.
This is supposed to be the dungeon of the evil satanist cult villains.
Anyway, the characters they meet here do little but fill out their quest party to a whopping fifteen named characters. So large, two of the characters, the twins Rama and Amar, are given a single line of description (they're "pretty") and literally do nothing and are almost never mentioned again.
- On that note, what is up with the Gemini twins thing? It says something about how the apocalyptic disaster caused a lot of twins to be born, all of which are linked in such a way that when they are separated they become weak and die. This begins to happen to the main twins of the story, Mat and Tam, but its more of an inconvenience to the main Quest narrative than anything. Why is this piece of worldbuilding here? It does nothing for the plot, themes, or overt Christian messaging. What gives?
- Off screen at some point the snake charmer Hamar hypnotizes David. He makes a comment about how weak minds are seduced by the occult. This is obviously here to warn kids about the spiritual dangers of the occult, which is all well and good, but then flakes out on it by not actually including it in the story, just tacking it on as a PSA. I think this is the kind of thing some reviews referred to as "dark" or "going hard" for a kids series.
- Speaking of the Sanhedrin, I might be the only person who wonders this, but making the evil cultish villains of your Christian allegory fantasy world be the Jewish council of priests who condemned Christ to death on the cross, comes across as a bit...antisemitic? It leans a bit into the "evil secret order of Jews - you know, the Christkillers - that are plotting to take over the world" set of stereotypes that leave a bad taste in my mouth.
- One only has to read Morris' bio on the back to see why Reb, theoretically a modern teen, is hankerin' fer the glorious days of the Civil War south, and treats the only black character like its 1890, instead of 1990.
- Yes, there is some attempt to show Reb overcoming his prejudice. He shook a black kids hand for saving his life after all. See, they touched, racism solved!
- Reb has his Uncle's rubber billy club for some reason.
- David is supposed to be the Edmund of this book. He is cocky and full of himself, is tricked into being captured via mind control, is tortured off screen and gives the enemy vital information about where the group is travelling to, then returns, dies, and is resurrected miraculously by Goel. However, unlike Edmund, there is no explanation of how he returns from capture, he just does, and no one, not even the characters who joined the troop in the interim and had never met him before that point in the book, have any qualms about his mysterious return, but they unanimously and immediately forgive him and accept him back into the fold.
As with much of this book, Morris seems intent on taking every opportunity for tension and character growth that he presents himself to deftly avoid it at all costs and undercut every scene with lazy and vague exposition.
Somehow David returned...bleh
- "No MAN may pass through."
Oh brother.
Although I do think my favorite scene is the group of teenage boys slavering after the newly awakened Sixth Sleeper Abbey, "the most beautiful girl Josh had ever seen". She of course loves this kind of attention because, again, Gilbert Morris was a sixty year old man who really "gets" today's youth of the 90s.
- The title of the book is taken from one of the final scenes in which a rather confusing battle (why do the Sanhedrin bring "rolling turrets" to take out small band of defenseless teens in the middle of a desert?) is deus ex machinaed, a la Tolkien, by the arrival of giant eagles. Except they aren't actual eagles, they are apparently giant condors. Do yourself a favor and look up what condors look like. I want to see THAT version of the cover!
Anyway, these eagles disappear for no reason when the characters are battling on the top of a giant spire (again, pictured on the cover), when it would be most convenient to leave such a location by air.
Further, the whole final set piece makes very little sense. Just look at the picture on the cover. How does the enemy even get up there? Why do the characters act like this place is so indefensible? Why do they stay here for two weeks scrounging for food when they literally arrived on eagles? Is the stairway they go down in the end in some kind of hollow in the center of that spire? None of this is ever really made clear.
- The House of Goel is "for all people" as we are told when the one black character shows up. As long as "all people" are American, apparently.
How cool would a seven book series have been where in each book our main character had to find a new sleeper by travelling across all seven continents? Think of all the room to world build, create character development, and dig deep into that part of the human psyche that wants to "collect them all" in a neat and organized fashion, especially in that middle school age range. You could travel to all the kinds of exotic fantasy locales that the other books in the series does and solve Christian themed problems in each, but all the while you be building the tension of what it meant to awaken the sleepers, which would ultimately build this allegory for filling the House of God full, since by the awakening of the seventh sleeper, they would have travelled the world, unlike here where the awakening of the seventh sleeper has all the fanfare of a whomp-whomp.
There is a fun kernel of an idea here that would make for a fun mid-grade exploration of Christ-centered concepts (the power of faith in the unseen, the guidance of the Holy Spirit, Scripture as a living and active part of the Christian life, and the overcoming of societal, cultural, and personal differences for a common purpose) through a fantasy lens. This just really isn't it.
Anyway, on to book 2!