Monday, 12 April 2010
The Secret Ministry of Frost
Light has had an unconventional upbringing: shunned at the local school because she is the albino daughter of an Inuit mother who died on an earlier trip to the Arctic, home-educated by her explorer father and Butler, she is brave and resourceful, and when her home is invaded by murderous slit-eyed killers - isserkiat - she and Butler purchase an ice-breaker and set sail for Nunavut, where she will encounter gods and monsters, and discover the truth of her birth. Despite her Inuit heritage, she is utterly unfamiliar with the physical demands of the Arctic, which tax her strength and courage, and she must also face even the even greater challenge of a shamanistic journey in order to save the world from the ravages of Frost.
Light's enemies are truly terrifying, and Nick Lake makes few concessions to his YA target audience - this is a violent, gory, can't-put-it-down sort of read. I have a few minor niggles - "Inuits" as a plural irritated me (although a quick Google seems to suggest some legitimacy), and it may be that Canadian readers may find some that I have missed. Also, my occasional contact over the years with Canada's First Peoples gives me some slight qualms about cultural appropriation - not a discussion I plan to embark on here, beyond noting that it can be a contentious issue - but taken on its own terms, this is an pacy adventure story with a nod to colonial history, in the form of the Franklin expedition, with the extra attraction of its venture into the harsh yet beguiling world of Inuit mythology. There is beauty here as well as terror.
On a personal note, I am counting this as a contribution towards both the Canadian Book Challenge - well, it is about Canada - and Once Upon a Time IV: I'd rather expected my reading for the latter to have its usual European slant, and I'm delighted to have found something so different to recommend (I shall be buying copies for my favourite people, you can be sure). The cover, by the way, is lovely - you can't tell from the picture here, but it sparkles all over with snowflakes. The splendidly atmospheric title, by the way, comes from Coleridge's poem Frost at Midnight.