Goodreads Review: Sunshine
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This book was a mess.
Granted, it was a beautiful, and often compelling mess. Robin McKinley’s eponymous narrator Sunshine lives in a vividly crafted world where creatures of the night–demons, vampires, werewolves, and, apparently angels (though we don’t meet any of those)–live right beside humans. Set not long after a war between these factions, McKinley creates a surprisingly believable universe where real magical talismans can be bought at rummage sales and where the cops that hang out at the local coffee shop can turn themselves blue.
Several of the characters in Sunshine hint at the same level of care in their construction. Constantine, our heroine’s vampire paramour is endearing, despite being dead ugly; he’s got a wry sense of humor underscored with genuine tenderness. Sunshine’s other romantic interest, biker-turned-chef Mel, is similarly sweet. And Sunshine herself is a believable, if sometimes both rambling and whiny, hero. When she finds herself chained up in a ballroom, intended as a snack for Con, we cheer for her; when her background is slowly revealed, we’re given a more full and appreciative idea of her. And when her rambling stretches the barest of plots–toward the end of the novel, there’s a good couple pages where she talks about being unable to sleep–we can at least say it’s true to character.
Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for our villain, who is wholly disposable, or a sense of overall development, which is noticeably absent. McKinley builds her story in a strange way. Because we so fully inhabit Sunshine’s extensive and occasionally tiresome ramblings, we’re often not told information that she takes for granted. For example, I didn’t realize that the entire universe was an urban fantasy setting until a good thirty pages in. That early revelation worked. Later, this style of plot development so litters the book that I repeatedly found myself leafing back twenty pages or more, sure I’d missed something.
Similarly, there are many plot threads left hanging here. We don’t ever even get to meet Sunshine’s mother, who may or may not be part demon. We’re told that her human boyfriend, Mel, might be a sorcerer, but that thread is quickly dropped. There are two explicit sex scenes toward the last third of the novel that are clearly meant to contrast Sunshine’s relationship with Mel with her relationship with Constantine, but the potential conflict between the two men–and the issue of who Sunshine, ultimately, will choose–is left both largely unexplored and almost entirely unresolved. These problems with pacing, development, and resolution really mar an otherwise compelling story.
But I’m hoping that what will stay with me is not these issues, but instead the novel’s strengths: lovely descriptions of setting on both the micro- (the development of the seasons) and macro- (McKinley’s world building) levels peppered with occasionally touching anecdotes. The story of how her power erupts as a child is particularly lovely and memorable. If only the novel had, as a whole, belied the same attention to detail.
Phoebe
Phoebe is a 20-something writer who lives in New York State with her husband and cat. She is a dork, not a geek or a nerd.
Her debut novel, Starglass, will be released from Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers in Summer 2013.
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