If you have read some of Kay's later works--Tigana, the Last Light of the Sun--stop there!  You have seen what he has to offer.  Don't look here, back in 1984, when he wrote a book without really knowing what he wanted to say or how to say it.  Where do I begin?  OK, think of it this way: 5 Canadians in King Arthur's Court.  These grad students from Toronto are whisked away into a distant land, where they find themselves to be somehow 'chosen' to save the world.

OK, OK, a bit cliche, but I can handle that as long as the plot is good, the characters worthwhile.  Well, they aren't.  They're not quite stock characters.  I wish they were, because then they would at least have the recognizability of the overly painted masked characters from a medieval morality play.  Instead, they're just basically anonymous.

And then the magic starts.  Not the magic that great stories work on your brain, making you want to stay up all night just to get to the next chapter.  No, this is the magic of Fionavar.  Objects will just pop up out of nowhere and we're told that they have some great power.  OK, cool, I guess.  But could you at least tell me something why this thing got here?  Does it have a history?  A reason?  No.  And that's it.

The plot stumbles along, seemingly skipping pages of very necessary explanation.  You can't tell if this is some sort of attempt at artistry and mystery, or if Mr. Kay just forgot about it.  It doesn't matter, though.  You're still forced to manually restart your suspension of disbelief and try to get back into the book, hoping that by page 321, it will have been worth it.  So you trudge along.

And then a dark lord comes in with orcs to try and take over the world.

And then a unicorn comes to save the day.  Wait a minute: Unicorns?  Yes.  Unicorns.  Really.  Well, one unicorn, actually, but it doesn't matter.  And it is written to be some sort of grand moment in the history of the world, and supposedly it is, but you don't really care, because this is a tiny, fake world about which we know nothing, and one which we haven't seen enough to care about at all!

On the tinyness: don't let the map fool you.  This is not some grand work of imagination.  The entirety of Fionavar is about the size of Lithuania.  Not ancient pagan Lithuania; Modern, Russia-dominated, Cold-War shrunken Lithuania.  You can ride across this imaginary world in about 3 days--on horseback!  He says so himself.

As it happens, most all of the important scenes of the book are just like the unicorn stunt.  Some ridiculous, probably avoidable dilemma is resolved by the sudden appearance of a predictable, cliche stroke of good luck.  Ugh.

To his credit, Mr. Kay does have some skill at describing places and feelings.  It appears in his later works.  All in all, however, this is a frantic, sloppy thing.  Don't bother reading it, and do not DARE call it a "classic."
If you have read some of Kay's later works--Tigana, the Last Light of the Sun--stop there! You have seen what he has to offer. Don't look here, back in 1984, when he wrote a book without really knowing what he wanted to say or how to say it. Where do I begin? OK, think of it this way: 5 Canadians in King Arthur's Court. These grad students from Toronto are whisked away into a distant land, where they find themselves to be somehow 'chosen' to save the world. OK, OK, a bit cliche, but I can handle that as long as the plot is good, the characters worthwhile. Well, they aren't. They're not quite stock characters. I wish they were, because then they would at least have the recognizability of the overly painted masked characters from a medieval morality play. Instead, they're just basically anonymous. And then the magic starts. Not the magic that great stories work on your brain, making you want to stay up all night just to get to the next chapter. No, this is the magic of Fionavar. Objects will just pop up out of nowhere and we're told that they have some great power. OK, cool, I guess. But could you at least tell me something why this thing got here? Does it have a history? A reason? No. And that's it. The plot stumbles along, seemingly skipping pages of very necessary explanation. You can't tell if this is some sort of attempt at artistry and mystery, or if Mr. Kay just forgot about it. It doesn't matter, though. You're still forced to manually restart your suspension of disbelief and try to get back into the book, hoping that by page 321, it will have been worth it. So you trudge along. And then a dark lord comes in with orcs to try and take over the world. And then a unicorn comes to save the day. Wait a minute: Unicorns? Yes. Unicorns. Really. Well, one unicorn, actually, but it doesn't matter. And it is written to be some sort of grand moment in the history of the world, and supposedly it is, but you don't really care, because this is a tiny, fake world about which we know nothing, and one which we haven't seen enough to care about at all! On the tinyness: don't let the map fool you. This is not some grand work of imagination. The entirety of Fionavar is about the size of Lithuania. Not ancient pagan Lithuania; Modern, Russia-dominated, Cold-War shrunken Lithuania. You can ride across this imaginary world in about 3 days--on horseback! He says so himself. As it happens, most all of the important scenes of the book are just like the unicorn stunt. Some ridiculous, probably avoidable dilemma is resolved by the sudden appearance of a predictable, cliche stroke of good luck. Ugh. To his credit, Mr. Kay does have some skill at describing places and feelings. It appears in his later works. All in all, however, this is a frantic, sloppy thing. Don't bother reading it, and do not DARE call it a "classic. "