Even though I'd bought this book a few weeks ago, I'd hesitated to read it until now because, well, I worried I wouldn't be able to relate to so much Queen-flavoured content. It wasn't until I dived in that I realised my mistake (don't judge a book by its...inspiration?). While the Queen references certainly enrich the experience, they are far from the whole of the dish.
The King of Rhye is packed to the brim with toffee-sweet protagonists, sometimes-salty side characters, sour villains, and bitter gods. The story is rich, in that kind of timeless, classic way -- like the chocolate lava cake you ate in your grandmother's kitchen. It is - if I may move away from this food metaphor I'm baking myself into - fantasy as I remember it from my childhood. It's the captured essence of hot afternoons spent reading about elves and dragons in front of the old, tick-ticking pedestal fan. It's adventuring with fairies on winter evenings, until the book lands on my snoring face. It's all of these imagined journeys and wistful recollections and youthful hopes...and yet, TKOR is far from childish. You could say... that it's chocolate lava cake, if the gooey centre actually contained all that which Pandora wasn't supposed to let loose.
All of that to say that TKOR made me feel, as an adult, the way Bridge to Terabithia or The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe made me feel when I was eleven. Utterly enthralled and, sometimes, just as heartbroken.
But I suppose it'd pay to tell you about the actual story at some point, so here goes. Although TKOR features a rich selection of characters, it centres around five main protagonists -- Harold (a dragonfly), Dique and Meadow (pixies), 'Wagoner' Will (a human) and our main mischief-maker, Mustapha (a strangeling). The five's friendship was founded on pranks and petty thievery, and thus the story starts -- with a plot, and a prize. But when this particular heist turns out to be higher stakes then they'd anticipated, the crew are scattered, and the fate of Rhye is thrown into uncertainty. The subsequent tale is a recipe for fantasy pudding: a world in jeopardy, some unlikely heros, competing magics, a prophecy, a dash of romance, a dollop of treachery, and some vengeful gods. Praise Offler, I feel like I'm ten again!
As for the book's inspiration -- yes, TKOR has given me a new appreciation for Queen. Even without being a superfan I spotted a few lyrics nestled within the dialogue, and their corresponding songs lived in my head for days afterwards. But even if you come out earworm free, there's a list at the end of the book which details every reference you missed, so you won't be left behind. And if you really just aren't into Queen at all... I still kind of think you should read it. If your childhood was enriched by the likes of Pratchett, Adams or Jacques, then this book has something for you. It really does.
I want to draw your attention to this line, which Mulhall wrote in the acknowledgements -- "Queen music is the soundtrack of my own life and an indelible part of rock history." There can be no doubt, flicking through the pages upon pages of references, that The King of Rhye is a worthy homage. It does exactly what you'd expect an homage to do: rediscovering, with reverence, these precious little pieces of the past.
What I didn't expect, was to rediscover little pieces of *my* past as I read it. On to book two!