Wicked by Gregory Maguire

Wicked by Gregory Maguire


I just finished Wicked by Gregory Maguire, which was an interesting read. Several people told me that it was “strange,” and that did prove to be true. I think I still liked it though. However, until I actually see the musical, I will wonder how on earth the book could have been turned into one.

The book of course details the life of the Wicked Witch of the West (of Wizard of Oz fame), using episodes from various stages of her life.

What mainly interests me is how most readers might view Elphaba. We are surely meant to sympathize with her point of view: in comparison to the selfish Glinda, the scheming Miss Morrible, or her useless father Frex, we are undoubtedly meant to favor Elphaba above all other characters. But Elphaba, in her own way, is equally self-righteous and intolerant of others. For instance, she has no sympathy with people like Boq and his wife who value being peaceful and left alone over championing a “cause,” and because she herself will never be considered beautiful, it is easy for her to discount the pleasure of being admired and of reigning over a social scene. In some ways I suppose this is a reflection of us all: nearly everyone I know (myself absolutely included) believes that his or her pet cause should become the focal point of everyone’s existence, or are at least intolerant of people who disagree with the main thrust of his or her own ideals.

Also, Elphaba’s character is complicated by the way she treats her own son. It is fair enough that she is not positive that Liir is her son. But it’s strange to me, for a person who felt so much towards her family, and towards Liir’s father, that she could not drudge up some feeling for the child which might possibly be hers.

And while I hate to bring up Sex and the City in my discussion of a vastly different book, Elphaba’s quest to be forgiven by her lover’s wife reminded me of the episode where Carrie apologizes to Big’s wife after it was discovered that Carrie and Big were having an affair. This reminded me that the urge to apologize and be forgiven is at the base a very selfish one. In a case like this, it’s all about foisting one’s own problems and insecurities onto someone else, and cleansing oneself at another’s expense. I’m perversely glad that Elphaba never gained the opportunity to apologize or be forgiven. There are some things that we should perhaps always be forced to live with until we can forgive ourselves. (As a sidenote, I’ll also add that I thought this section of the book was a bit tedious, and I think could have been cut down some)

And yet, the causes for which Elphaba fights are undeniably just. So the sum of all this, I suppose, is that Maguire created a very realistic character, because Elphaba was so flawed.

One thing I do regret is how little we learned about Glinda and the person she became following her schooldays. I was never entirely clear on what motivated her or why she acted in the way she did. Was she in fact a pawn of Miss Morrible her entire life? If so, why could Elphaba resist the spell and Glinda could not? Though Glinda displayed signs of growth following the murder of her Ama, why did she revert to her old ways instead of growing further?

In the end, I guess I think this book was clever, and the ways in which Maguire included another story were not overly obtrusive. I enjoyed the writing style, especially the humor. My only complaint is that I do think he went a bit long in some places that could have been tightened up, and there are a few little tangents (such as the bizarre brothel scene at the House of Philosophies or whatever it was) that I still don’t really understand their function in the work. I would definitely be interested to read his other works.