The only reason I picked this book up was because it was an Australian fantasy novel and I needed one to use for genre study in a class assignment for Advanced Editing. I had no idea what I was getting into, to be honest. This book is absolute rubbish; a failure in so many ways I don't have enough fingers or toes to count them all.
But I'll try.
We are first introduced to Leratia, a steampunk-ish world where magic fuels an Industrial Revolution and great machines keep society afloat. Tyen, a young sorcerer/archaeology student who, while looting tombs for the shadowy Academy, stumbles on a magical book in which a sorceress named Vella has been trapped for nearly a thousand years.
Vella can communicate with Tyen, and her ideas on the limitations of magic strike him as heretical. However, when he learns of a great threat to his world, he must flee from those who benefit from the status quo and would love to see Vella destroyed.
Meanwhile, in the desert world of Fyre, theocratic forces known as The Angels rule. A young woman named Rielle learns she has a knack for magic—but unfortunately to use magic is considered ‘stealing from the Angels’—and to be a woman who uses magic is a crime for which the punishments are particularly grim.
Strike #1: Canavan has two separate protagonists. This ordinarily wouldn't be too much of an issue, but in this case, Tyen and Rielle's stories not only never intersect, but they don't influence the other in any way, shape or form. Now, in the hands of a better writer, this wouldn't be a problem either; however, Canavan opts to alternate between their stories in huge chunks of tedious, expository info dumps of detail-laden prose.
Strike #2: The prose, my god the prose. Canavan must despise her readers; or, at the very least, think very lowly of them. Not a detail goes by where she resists the temptation to make bloody sure the reader knows 100% what a character thinks, feels or knows. I don't think there's an ounce of 'show' in this ocean of 'tell'. Anything any character says is accompanied by what they're thinking about, how the look on their face should be interpreted, or how what they say affects the story. The dialogue is an excuse to shift massive info dumps onto the poor reader, and it's poorly written to say the least. Wooden, halting and strained—three very good adjectives to describe not just the conversations that take place in these 553 pages, but the entire freaking book as well. It's painful to read; not a page went by where I didn't sigh and throw the book down, thinking, "My God, really?" It's that bad—but not as bad as the characters themselves.
Strike #3: Unlikeable, two dimensional characters stuck firmly in Identity. Tyen is a blank slate made unlikeable by his sheer and exhaustive naivety. Seriously, what a little shit. Which is fine and dandy if that is merely his identity and the voyage he's about to take bring him firmly into his Essence. A little character-building 101 for a second. Stage #1: The Character is stuck, fully in Identity (that which he was and is; not what he is capable of). Stage #2: There needs to be an opportunity for the Character to have a glimpse of what life is like in Essence (that which the Character, once grown, can become or transform into). Stage #3: There needs to be a Change In Plans (the greatest vacillation between Identity and Essence, where the Character has to choose. Stage #4: There need to be Complications (HIGHER STAKES; the Character is so close to Essence, but with growing fear. There needs to be a Major Setback, that throws the Character back into Identity). Stage #5: There needs to be the Final Push (whereas there is EVERYTHING to lose; courage must be found and the Character must achieve his/her outer goal (hell, there must be an outer goal in the first place) and must be in Essence to achieve it).
There is none of this in Thief's Magic. Both Tyen and Rielle are empty vessels simply fleeing danger to their lives; the story happens around them and anything they achieve is neatly given to them with no great risk or Major Setback. There's no suspense, there's no reasonable fear for their safety, there's no reason to give a shit about them because they're Identity and that's all they are.
Empathy. It's important. And there are many tools for writers to make a character leap from the page and make the reader care about them; to make the reader want to jump in and follow them on their journey. You can make the Character a victim of undeserved misfortune. You can make them likable, funny, highly skilled, good-hearted, kind, et cetera. You can also put them in jeopardy, as Canavan does, but you have to give your character at least one of the above descriptors. Canavan just gives us two lifeless husks and demands—because something has happened to them—that we give a shit. I simply couldn't have cared less.
There is no longing; there is no need. There is no deeply held desire the Character is paying lip service to, but isn't pursuing because it's too scary.
And that is why this is such a shitty, awful, time-wasting, dreadful, unsatisfactory, brutally dull, deadly unfunny, and fake shitcan of a book. Avoid at all costs.