Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book 03

My kids and I listened to this book quite a while ago while traveling, and it’s taken me so long to review it mainly because my kids didn’t enjoy it. That itself is a strike against the book, and the review has barely begun.

In the intervening months, I’ve actually tried twice to see if they’d be interested in reading Book 4: The Battle of the Labyrinth, but neither my son (13) nor my daughter (11) have shown even the slightest interest. My son says he doesn’t remember the story or the characters, and my daughter simply uses her favorite adjective: “It’s boring.” It’s not the adjective I’d use, but at least it’s feedback.

Having allowed some time for the series to mellow in my head, I’m super glad they’ve responded this way. In retrospect, I think I’ve actually hated these books, though the entertainment factor blinded me to it for a while.

Plot Summary

In this third book, Percy joins a quest that’s not his own, and frankly, one he’s not even invited to join. This quest is instead supposed to be “Girls Only.” Artemis is out to recruit some girls, and she’s got her eye on the newly returned Thalia—the girl “killed” several years ago but who’s been protecting Camp Half-blood in the form of a tree rooted strongly along its borders. Annabeth’s kidnapping, however, has riled Percy, and he thus finds himself on mission, not only to save his friend but also to help Thalia on this Artemis quest. Zoe especially does not like having Percy along for the ride, but their relationship softens somewhat throughout the ordeal.

A Flaw in Setting

Much of this story is set at Hoover Dam in winter—and before I continue, I ask you first to picture Hoover Dam in winter. Got it in your mind? OK.

Rick Riordan really failed at giving his readers a sense of setting in this book, either of Hoover Dam or of winter. On the rarest occasions, he would remark about the cold or snow or the dam, but I almost never had a sense of place or time or setting throughout this book. The characters could have been anywhere, wearing anything. I felt no sense of place as we read, and that’s not a good quality for a novel of this caliber to have. I felt more present in the bizarro, psychedelic Vegas hotel from Book 1: The Lightning Thief than I did at almost any point in this book. It was an odd feeling, and perhaps the reason my kids disliked it so much–even if they couldn’t put it into so many words.

Some Standout Scenes

I thought the “dam” jokes were funny, though they might cause some parents or teachers to squirm. Riordan also had a few lines in this story that I thought were worth repeating. I’ll share two.

The first came in a conversation Zoe and Percy’s had about the Ophiotaurus they found, a cute little bull-serpent cow thing. Zoe tells him that, if sacrificed, the cow would give the killer the power to destroy the gods, She says:

“There’s power in killing innocence. Terrible power.” (230)

It’s a strange reference, yet one need not be versed in mythology to understand it. This truth is everywhere around us, the terrible power of sin—the control people feel from feeding on the young, poor, weak, and innocent. It’s such a dark statement, and it’s one of the many things in this book that just made me feel uneasy.

Another phrase came when Percy faced the gods themselves, and they told him his fatal flaw, something all gods apparently have. Percy’s fatal flaw is personal loyalty. He argues his case, that it’s not a flaw to want to help one’s friends, but then Athena tells him:

“The most dangerous flaws are those which are good in moderation.” (298)

Personal loyalty to risk his own life to save his friends is good; sacrificing the fate of the world and the lives of millions to save one dear friend is foolishness. Or at least so says the goddess, who herself is flawed.

I think there’s truth in this statement, yet it reminds me of Michael Scott from The Office describing his biggest weaknesses: “I work too hard, I care too much, and sometimes I can be too invested in my job.” The big reveal in this climactic scene wasn’t Percy’s flaw but rather the entire series’ flaw—shallowness. The hero’s so good, he’s bad. Ugh.

My Terribly Subjective, Gut-feeling Conclusions

Again, these are feelings that come through recollection, having let the series mellow—and this is probably the most subjective I’ll ever get in a book review!

I didn’t feel this way when I initially read the book, but time has passed. Very little has stuck with me as memories of why I loved this or any of the Percy Jackson books. Instead, I feel uneasy and gross, a little bit like I’ve been conned.

Contrast this to, say, Harry Potter (of which Percy Jackson is but a carbon copy on so many levels): I’ve never looked back on the Potter series with regret but instead would love to read the series again someday. I’ve enjoyed the movies, I don’t feel uneasy as a Christian parent about the magic, and I don’t mind letting my own kids read them again on their own. Harry Potter is a strong series with properly flawed and believable characters, definitive good-vs.-evil elements, and role models worth emulating. Percy Jackson fails in all these veins. It’s a comic book in prose, nothing more.

Overall, there was just way too much in this book that rubbed me the wrong way as a Christian father. My kids felt it too, and I’m glad. We’re no longer fans of the Percy Jackson series and don’t care to know what happens in the end.

I eventually explored Rick Riordan as an author and discovered that he eventually morphs future characters in other series to match the cultural climate of the day (i.e. regarding sexual identities and orientations), so actually, I’m off reading him entirely. I really should have done that research in the first place, but I failed to do so, since some fellow believers had told me that this was such a great, clean series.

Oh well. Live and learn.

©2024 E.T.