Book Review | Maguire returns to Oz, but he should have stayed at home

It's rough being the child of a celebrity, but what's worse than being the son of the Wicked Witch of the West? It's asking for a thankless life filled with pesky persecution, a bad rap and no credit. Tufts graduate Gregory Maguire (G '90) makes another foray into fairy (re)telling to answer this question in "Son of a Witch," the sequel to his 1995 sensation, "Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West." As the first novel was recently adapted into the Tony Award-winning Broadway musical "Wicked," it was only a matter of time before fans and finances dictated a return to Oz. Unfortunately, this sequel falls just short of the ambition and achievement of the first. The sequel begins right where its predecessor ended the tale of unwanted child Liir, unsure of his parentage and raised by the Wicked Witch herself, Elphaba Thropp. Despite the cutesy title, the book only seems to prove that there is no true son of the Wicked Witch of the West and no true sequel for the well-written "Wicked." The greenish main character and political malcontent whom readers came to love met her maker with one splash of water from the sickeningly sweet Dorothy. The immediate aftermath of her death is where Liir's history starts; he is thrust into an unexpected early adulthood with no clear definition of his identity. With a lack of any other cause, he makes it his quest to find or rescue his maybe-half-sister Nor. Throughout his travels, Liir refutes and conceals his relationship to character compared to the dynamic pseudo-villain. Elphaba is dead, wrapped up in Maguire's innovative and well-told story that left little room for this continuation; unfortunately she easily steals the show from "Son"'s far less compelling protagonist, her unconfirmed-'til-the-last-page son. This book, like its main character, is riding the cloak-tails of its mother. Elphaba becomes the Elvis of Oz; the phrase "Elphaba Lives!" becomes graffiti that graces anything immobile, has-been lounge singers dedicate their sets to her, and she even has an impersonator in Liir. So Elphaba lives, but for what? This sequel straddles the uncomfortable boundary between a mere continuation of the former, extremely popular tale and an inventive refocus on the story left behind. The witch herself undoubtedly would prefer to be left with that special dignity provided by a satisfyingly morbid end. The book begins by exploring Liir's past through his dreams during a mysteriously-induced coma 10 years after the death of the witch, when he is taken in by the same mauntery (or in this world, convent) that once took in a desperate, silent Elphaba. The 20-something Liir wakes with help from the music and love of a young woman, Candle. Liir begins to fill Elphaba's shoes (and her cape) with steadily decreasing reluctance as the people of Oz suffer through mysterious attacks, religious fanaticism, rotating leadership and continuing decline. Fans of "Wicked" onstage and off may enjoy another glimpse of the corrupt, gritty, original Oz that the second book provides, but the lack of true growth or revelation in the sequel makes it a far less interesting read. The overwhelmingly cynical and agnostic tone set by the first continues in the second, but there is none of the vigor and hope that infused "Wicked." And while "Wicked" ended with brief paragraphs detailing the fate of supporting characters, "Son," tellingly, does not. This sequel labors under the mistake of that perfect ending, and so leaves most of its conflicts unresolved, with characters MIA and making their way through Oz, presumably to rise against the latest corrupt leader, Shell (Elphaba's younger brother). It does not take a wizard to foresee that there just may be another book to cash in on the overwhelming success of the blossoming franchise. What is it about Oz? No one can seem to leave well enough alone. L. Frank Baum's original book series aside, Victor Fleming's well loved film adaptation, "The Wizard of Oz" (1939), actually followed a slew of other minor films, and was followed itself by any number of sequels and retellings. Remember the soulful Diana Ross and not-yet-pop-royalty Michael Jackson in 1978's urban fairytale "The Wiz?" Remember not-yet-creepy preadolescent Fairuza Balk in a lackluster 1985 follow-up, "Return to Oz?" Wouldn't it be better if you didn't? Ding-dong, the witch is dead; it's true that Oz remains, but that doesn't translate into a sequel that can match the first. "Son of a Witch" tries, ruby slippers-style, to bring readers back to Oz, but it's the victim of its own magic.