Wicked (1995)

Earlier this year, I reread this book for the first time in years and was reminded of how much I liked it. In recent years, I’ve gotten much more acquainted with alternate takes on classic stories (hello, Once Upon a Time!), but this is the one that gave me one of my earliest tastes of that kind of twist.

Elphaba is born on an inauspicious night, entirely green. Her inexplicable color creates a wall between her and nearly everyone she encounters. As she ages, Elphaba learns about both school and life at Shiz University, where she discovers something rotten in the state of Oz. These revelations set her down a path that will put her at odds with everyone from the great Wizard to a child blown in from another world, while also fracturing the few hard-won close relationships in her life.

As far as summaries go, I’m not sure if that quite gets the job done, but we’ll go with it. The book has the very simple elevator pitch of “The Wizard of Oz told from the witch’s perspective,” but in truth, it’s far more involved than that. This is a deeply political story of oppression and outsiders, filled with moral ambiguity, all kinds of Oz lore, and complex personal relationships. It’s not a quick or easy read, but if you have the time to put into it and don’t mind stories that are about things coming undone rather than things being put back together, you might find it rewarding. I’ve read several of Gregory Maguire’s reframed fairytales, but Wicked remains my favorite.

Back when I first read it, it was in preparation for the Broadway musical that of course exploded in popularity. And don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I mean, I was a weird 16-year-old girl who loved musical theatre – obviously “Defying Gravity” was my jam. But if I could only pick one, I’d pick the book every time. The story is so rich, the characters so compelling, the dilemmas so thorny. If Wicked the musical is an entertaining popcorn show, Wicked the book is a satisfying three-course meal, and its more famous adaptation uses the source material largely as a springboard to tell its own kind of story.

Like most works that really resonant with me, I’m closely drawn to many of the characters. Of course spiky Elphaba, who loves and fights hard even as she holds others at arms length, in wonderful, and I appreciate how Galinda’s depth and intelligence comes almost in spite of herself. I also enjoy dependable Boq, romantic Fiyero, and practical Nanny. Additionally, I like exploring so many different parts of Oz – while I don’t go so far as to call Maguire’s writing Tolkien-like, he does write about these regions and cities as though they’re places that exist, or at least existed, and the locales spring to life on the page. It weaves in the references and exposition and various Oz-religion doctrines with a casual air, trusting us to keep up without handholding. And when it comes to the story, it always pulls back from the easy choice and goes in a direction that resists tying the plot up in a bow. This is a book where, on page one, we already know how it’s going to end, but the journey to get to that destination is anything but predictable.

Warnings

Strong violence, sexual content, language, drinking/drug references, and strong thematic elements.