Maggie Stiefvater has finished her epic young adult (YA) fantasy series "The Raven Cycle" with the fourth novel "The Raven King." The series follows prep-school boys Adam, Ronan and Gansey and the eclectic psychic's daughter Blue on their quest to find a dead Welsh king. If that doesn't sound exciting enough, just know that these books are a promise of fast cars, moral gray areas and enough supernatural meddling to make any Baptist grandma squirm.
But I'm not writing this to summarize (and possibly spoil) Stiefvater's series. I'm not interested in enumerating factors that make the books great (though I could--such factors include dynamic and unmistakable characters, dynamic and unmistakable voice, dynamic, unmistakable and sharp wit that might just impale you). I'm going to tell you a reader's story, my story.
I read the first book in the series, "The Raven Boys," in February of 2013. I was sitting in my grandmother's old leather recliner, leaned back halfway, drinking green tea as I read. It was my second semester of my first year of college, I needed the distraction, and Amazon just happened to recommend "The Raven Boys." I loved it. I loved the mythology and the mood and the characters' raw ambition. I read "The Dream Thieves" (book two) within days of its release and did the same for "Blue Lily, Lily Blue" (book three).
I loved them too, but with each subsequent book, I could feel myself growing distant from Stiefvater's teen characters. Her characters were worried about getting into college while I was already there. They clashed with parental authority figures while I was long past that phase. I became immersed in my own problems and uninterested in novels.
"The Raven King" was released one week before my college graduation. By then, I hadn't read fiction (of my own selection) since the previous year. I was accustomed to academic discourse, to interpretations and reinterpretations of political theories, to footnotes and indices. I only read books about war. Top this off with the stress of CV writing, job interviews and a possible move out of the country–no, I did not want to read "The Raven King."
A few days ago, I was sitting in my grandmother's recliner, remembering how cold it was the night I read "The Raven Boys." I remembered how Gansey yearned for something more and how familiar that feeling is to me. I downloaded "The Raven King" without much thought and started reading.
I loved it. This book managed to scale a mental barrier I'd constructed over the course of three years. It was something I'd built to stay sane in the face of my professors' criticisms and fluctuating friend groups. To save face in front of trustees and presidents when I felt as though I had no business sharing a room with them. This barrier meant nothing was personal. I could not afford to let anything get personal.
Here's the thing with fiction: the good stuff is personal.
"The Raven King" got personal real fast. Even though I could not relate to the characters' specific problems (no sentient forests in my backyard, thanks), I understood the characters. I echoed their wanting, their fear. There's something very human and true about the way Stiefavter paints her protagonists, and you don't have to be the same age or social status to find common ground with them.
On a more objective note, it was a fitting finale, managing to press all my reader buttons. I say this with a certain level of surprise, as I'm naturally wary of sequels, prequels and lasts in any kind of sequence. As readers, we tend to build up our favorite series in imaginary glory, and by the time the author delivers the last piece of the puzzle, we've transmuted our memories of the previous books and made them something unattainable, that way the finale is bound to disappoint. But in the context of the preceding novels, "The Raven King" makes perfect sense. It brought balance to the world.
TL;DR: five stars for "The Raven King." Maggie, thank you for such a masterful series.
