The third book in the Rowling series about the teenage wizard Harry James Potter is the one that really starts to delve into the darker side of the magical world; it’s the book where we first face dementors and learn some of the secrets of Hogwarts and it’s previous students; it’s really no surprise it won the Bram Stoker Award for “Superior Achievement” in horror writing in it’s first year of publication.

The key plot line in this book is that of Sirius Black, the best friend of Harry’s father James and only person granted the knowledge of the Potter’s whereabouts when Voldermort was at his height. According to rumours that have gone unbounded for thirteen years, Sirius betrayed James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord and caused their death, he then went on to murder a fellow wizard and several other muggle citizens in some kind of mad rage.

The night after his thirteenth birthday Harry storms out of his uncle’s house in Privet drive; dragging his trunk, broomstick and caged owl with him. Whilst storming down the street he finds himself seeing a dark shape in the shadows, a huge black dog that seems to stalk him through the rest of the book. A trip to a bookshop in Diagon Alley reveals to Harry that the menacing creature is in fact a Grim, a magical omen, the sight of which marks the viewer as soon to die.

For all these Sirius has been a resident at the wizarding jail; Azkaban. An island ruled over by inhuman and terrifying magical creatures called dementors. However, Sirius manages to escape the prison, a feat never achieved by any other wizard, and as far as every one in the book is concerned he’s trying to hunt down Harry, so he can finish the work his master started.

Meanwhile at Hogwarts all sorts of things are going on, from the great and overwhelmingly important, to the miniscule and seemingly meaningless; a quidditch – a magical sport played on brooms in the air – match is invaded by dementors that causes Harry to crash and destroy his flying broomstick, whilst Hermione’s cat eats Ron’s rat (no that isn’t a metaphor) which leaves Ron even grumpier than ever and their friendship seemingly over.

Harry’s new Divination teacher foresees his death, whilst Hagrid, now teaching Care of Magical Creatures, introduces them to a majestic creature that is a strange cross between an eagle and a horse, whilst Hermione seems to have taken on more subjects than can physically fit into a day.

Harry is given the gift of an enchanted map that shows him secret passage ways out of Hogwarts and begins taking lessons in how to defend himself against dementors and the painful and terrifying memory they bring when in Harry’s presence. Harry is given a second gift, this time a mysterious package that arrives on Christmas day, which turns out to be a Firebolt, an enviable racing broom.

Then as if out of no where Sirius Black breaks into Hogwarts, not once, but twice, evading the dementors and threatening both a portrait and Harry’s very own dorm-mate Ron, with a knife.

All of this, along with a few passing comments that on reflection are so obvious and tongue-in-cheek they’re hilarious, culminate in Harry, Ron and Hermione, Sirius Black, a dead wizard and a werewolf in a creaky old shack that’s been haunted for years.

This is when the truth finally comes out and Harry’s world is changed forever.

This book is when the Harry Potter books begin to get grown up, not only does Harry find himself faced with true deceit and terror, in a way that he never really has been before, he also begins to develop into a young man, finding his feet socially and even starting to find girls attractive.

The dementors open up a new facet of darkness and horror to the magical world, which just can’t be matched by the earlier incidents with the giant spiders and the basilisk. Rowling’s description of the rotting hand that reaches toward their victim and the fate that greets you from beneath a dementor’s hood is really quite haunting.

As ever, there are some excellent comedy moments between Ron and Hermione, who can’t seem to stand one another. Whilst the stress of taking on too many classes drives Hermione to breaking point; eventually slapping Draco Malfoy and storms out of their Divination class, calling the professor a fraud. And, if we’re mentioning comedy, we cannot forget the brilliant “blowing up my aunt” incident at the start of the book either.

The book’s biggest flaw is it’s ending, which although gripping and apt feels, in a lot of ways, rushed. Harry is briefly reunited with his godfather and can feel a genuine family connection for the very first time, yet this emotional connection isn’t backed up in anyway. Every other relationship and emotional tie in the series are built up pretty much from the word go, even the gentle and warm-hearted Remus Lupin – the most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – has more of an opportunity to connect with Harry, and yet after no time at all Harry and Sirius are behaving as if they have known each other their whole lives; it just seems a little insipid and unbelievable, particularly when you compare to some of the other relationships in the books.

The Prisoner of Azkaban is dark and upsetting in a lot of ways; it looks into horrible aspects of revenge and spite through Sirius Black, who despite staying relatively sane over his years in Azakban has been twisted by hate and blood lust. The unbridled fear that the dementors bring out in Harry is also almost disturbing, yet his experience with them causes a heart-breaking dilemma that really resonates from the book. It also addresses several interesting concepts about responsibility and growing up; where Harry and his peers are faced with the kind of moments that seem so small but nonetheless define who you are for the rest of your life.

Neil Gaiman’s modern epic fantasy American Gods tells the story of ex-con Shadow, who finds himself widowed just days before making parole and inexplicably wanders into a bi-dimensional war of unfathomable proportions.

Shadow is, quite simply, kind. He is a good natured and thought provoking character who seems simply to wander through the book experiencing things that would have most terrified or inescapably perplexed. Shadow however has a slow and gentle intensity to him which is heartbreakingly endearing. He finds himself, silently wracked with grief over his wife and working for a mysterious Mr Wednesday who drags Shadow all across America recruiting all manner of exocentric men and women. Shadow begins to have strange dreams that seem so real yet are impossible by day light, he finds himself seeing into ancient civilisations and, almost without meaning to, trying to understand the nature of faith and belief.

For anyone who hasn’t worked it out yet Mr Wednesday is, quite obviously, a God. An ancient and powerful god brought to America by early Viking settlers who were wiped out before their faith could truly flourish; leaving Wednesday, or as he better known, Odin, to flounder in a faithless world.

Odin, and so many other gods brought to the America’s by ancient tribes and travelling peoples, now find their very existences threatened as belief in technology and the media become the religion of modern capitalist America. Thus Odin brings in Shadow to help him gather an army to battle the new gods who threaten these old ones.

Along the way Shadow meets some very strange, exotic and intoxicating people; gods of death and goddesses of sex, bringers of the night and guardians of peace and prosperity. Gaiman dots short and beautifully written chapters throughout the book in which we see these gods land upon American shores, we learn how they are born and what powers they have and the meaning they bring to their people; and then just to show us how impotent they have become we are thrown back into the frigid winter of modern North America where gods must survive on cash machine heists and taxi drivers wages.

In the midst of all of this Shadow is grieving for his wife, Laura, who finds herself brought back to him and desperate to keep her “Puppy” safe. Laura plays a pivotal role in the story, though she barely enters into the key storyline; yet her presence brings the two dimensional world of gods and men walking out on the earth as she lives in death, a walking but rotting corpse.

Eventually Shadow finds himself bound up a web of treachery; the lies and deception of which will undoubtedly but leave a bad taste in your mouth when you see the peril they put the harmless Shadow in. Throughout you can’t quite sit comfortably with Wednesday, and his true identity is not the worst revelation of the book.

The problem is that you can see Wednesday’s identity a mile off, and finding out at the end why he chose Shadow over all the other ex-cons in the world is about as subtle as a piano falling on your head. The sacrifice Shadow makes is the most painful part of that revelation, but its metaphor is also a bit too blatant which spoils the effect that Gaiman has clearly been going for. Any mysticism and intensity that exists in the pages that tell of Shadow’s vigil for Wednesday are tainted, not only by the betrayal of Wednesday himself; but by the ignorance that Gaiman expects of his readers – you hope he has other plans in store, that he will not take the obvious route and, as Shadow is physically and mentally tormented, you are distracted by your own disappointment at Gaiman’s anti-climax.

Also all the god related myths and metaphors are all well and good and my own lack of knowledge about many of them stands as a testament to the point Gaiman’s book is making, yet without an extensive knowledge a lot of the meaning that is hidden in brief moments and meetings gets totally lost and it kills the mood a little.

To truly appreciate this book you need an intense level of understanding about ancient religions, which you can quite clearly tell Gaiman has got after most likely putting in copious amounts of research before writing the book. But the average reader is bound to find some references just going over their head, and that just ruins the mystery and ambiance of the book; because rather than being intrigued you find yourself a little dumbfounded in places when revelations appear seemingly out of the blue.

The whole story gets a little lost in places as well, as Shadow finds himself hiding out and dipping into the lives of a small town or a family business; both of which are moments which could easily stand alone as stories, with enough personality and interest of their own that they distract from the novel as a whole and break the tension surrounding the main plot. It’s as though Gaiman is trying to do too much with this piece and rushes through the main plotline whilst lingering on smaller insignificant and frankly more interesting sub-plots.

Thankfully the silent and intense sweetness that is Shadow makes the book a very easy piece to sink into, and you find yourself largely untroubled by the books length and complex sub-plot. It passes by quickly, with its own peaks and troughs as any book does, but the final twist at the end suits the piece at large very well and the closing moments leave you feeling that, at least, Shadow might be alright after all.

The Silver Chair is the fourth book in the Chronicles of Narnia series. It is the first book that does not involve the key characters of the Pevensie children; instead their cousin Eustace Scrubb takes a second trip to Narnia, along with a school fellow named Jill Pole. Chronologically The Silver Chair takes place many years after Eustace and Lucy’s visit to Narnia in the Voyage of the Dawn Treader and some read it as the sixth rather than fourth book of the series.

From the start The Silver Chair has a more adult feel to it, the book opens with an explanation of Jill’s distress at school as she is being bullied and this dark and somewhat disturbing tone continues – for the most part – throughout the book. This makes for a real change compared to the previous books in the series which have an almost irritating innocence about them, whilst The Silver Chair boasts awe inspiring descriptions of the views across great summits and twisted and creepy travels through underground caves.

It can not be denied that the book is still very religious, however for those readers who do not find this particularly appetizing it can almost be overlooked on several occasions when Aslan is portrayed as more of a helping hand than a religious entity.

The Silver Chair includes some truly monstrous moments, including a murderous witch and man eating giants, yet these tales are still very tame by today’s standards and although they allude to some rather dark material the book remains a children’s story above all else. It is the first book in the series that stands strong throughout its length, whilst The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe becomes tedious and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is more like a collection of short stories The Silver Chair combines the extended adventure narrative of the first two books with the strength of plot of the third.

A large part of the books’ strength is derived from the absence of some characters; the four children of the original story, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy, were particularly dated and insincere, whilst Jill Pole has a certain level of guts and personality. Her distress is written in such a way as to make her easy to relate to and above all human; where the Pevensie children before her have a sickly sweet air about them.

The writing style of the book continues to stink of the date of its publication however, which can make for quite cumbersome reading in places and adds to the infantile nature of the overall piece. Yet where the previous books would have skimmed over some of the terrors of the magical world The Silver Chair becomes almost indulgent at times. Even – albeit unspeakably brief – moments of suspense pepper the pages when, just for an instance, you fear that Jill and Eustace might not make it home after all.

The Silver Chair is still undeniably a children’s story, with an air of religious allegory about it, but, for the first time, Lewis has on offer a slightly darker lion with a little bit of bite.