You probably know Percy Jackson. Everyone does. But if you haven't met Magnus Chase, you’re honestly missing out on the weirdest, funniest, and most surprisingly heartfelt corner of the Riordanverse.
Magnus isn't your typical hero. He’s a sixteen-year-old kid living under a bridge in Boston when we first meet him. He’s cynical. He’s scrawny. He dies in the first few chapters.
Yeah, he actually dies.
That’s the hook of Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard. While other YA series spend five books building up to a massive sacrifice, Rick Riordan starts this one with a funeral. It’s a bold move that sets the tone for a trilogy—comprising The Sword of Summer, The Hammer of Thor, and The Ship of the Dead—that feels way more "street-level" and chaotic than the Olympian stories.
The Weird Reality of the Norse Afterlife
Norse mythology is fundamentally different from Greek or Roman lore. It’s doom-driven. The Greeks had their drama, sure, but the Norse gods are living on a timer. They know Ragnarok is coming. They know they’re going to lose.
That sense of "do it anyway" permeates everything Magnus does.
When Magnus dies protecting people from a fire giant on the Longfellow Bridge, he’s whisked away to Hotel Valhalla by a Valkyrie named Samirah al-Abbas. Valhalla isn't some peaceful cloud-palace. It’s a sprawling, infinite hotel where warriors hack each other to pieces every day for practice, then get resurrected in time for dinner.
It’s brutal. It’s absurd. It’s also the perfect setting for a kid who spent years just trying to survive the streets of Boston.
Magnus is the son of Frey, the god of summer, fertility, and growth. If you’re thinking that sounds a bit "peace and love" for a Viking story, you’re right. Magnus doesn't want to swing a sword. He hates violence. His "weapon" is actually a sentient, talking blade named Jack (officially Sumarbrander) who has a penchant for singing Top 40 hits and complaining about his love life.
Why the Characters Work Better Than You Remember
Riordan really pushed the envelope with the supporting cast in this series. It didn't feel like "ticking boxes," which is a common complaint people have about modern YA. Instead, the characters felt like people you’d actually meet in a city as diverse as Boston.
Samirah al-Abbas is a practicing Muslim and a Valkyrie. That’s a complicated tightrope to walk. She’s one of the most disciplined characters in the series, balancing her duties to Odin with her family expectations and her faith. She doesn't see a conflict between her religion and the existence of the Norse entities; she views the "gods" more as powerful, annoying supernatural beings rather than divine creators.
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Then there’s Hearthstone and Blitzen.
Hearth is a deaf elf who practices galdr (rune magic). His backstory is legit heartbreaking—dealing with a family that viewed his deafness as a curse. Blitz is a dwarf who is obsessed with high fashion. He’d rather design a three-piece suit than forge a war hammer.
They are Magnus’s real family.
By the time Alex Fierro shows up in The Hammer of Thor, the group dynamic is solidified. Alex is a genderfluid child of Loki who uses a ceramic wire to decapitate enemies. Alex is prickly, sarcastic, and fiercely protective. The relationship that develops between Magnus and Alex is one of the most organic "slow burns" in the entire Riordan catalog because it’s built on mutual trauma and weirdness rather than a "chosen one" prophecy.
The Gods are Total Messes
If you're looking for the dignified, Anthony Hopkins version of Odin, you won't find him here. In Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, the gods are kind of a disaster.
Thor is a binge-watching slob who constantly loses his hammer (Mjolnir) because he leaves it in random places. He’s obsessed with catching up on "human shows."
Loki is terrifying.
Unlike the MCU version of Loki, who is more of a misunderstood anti-hero, Riordan’s Loki is a master manipulator. He’s cruel. He uses his children as pawns. The way he plays on the insecurities of Magnus and his friends is genuine psychological horror. He doesn't want to rule the world; he wants to burn it down because he’s bored and spiteful.
This version of the Norse pantheon leans heavily into the Eddas. You see the influence of the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda in every chapter title and monster encounter. Riordan takes the core of these myths—the inherent tragedy of the Aesir and Vanir—and masks it with a layer of snarky, modern humor.
Breaking the "Hero" Mold
Most fantasy leads are "The Chosen One." They have the biggest muscles or the strongest magic.
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Magnus is a healer.
His primary power isn't destroying things; it’s putting them back together. In the final confrontation of the series, he doesn't win by out-fighting his opponent. He wins through a flyting—a traditional Norse back-and-forth exchange of insults and truths.
He wins by being more vulnerable and honest than the villain can handle.
That’s a radical departure for an action-adventure series. It tells the reader that masculinity doesn't have to be about being the toughest guy in the room. Sometimes, it’s about having the empathy to understand why the person across from you is hurting.
The Geography of the Nine Worlds
One of the coolest things about this series is how it overlays Norse geography onto the city of Boston.
- Midgard is just our world, centered around places like the Public Garden or the Charles River.
- Nidavellir is the murky, cramped home of the dwarves.
- Alfheim looks like a perfect, blindingly bright American suburb, which Magnus finds absolutely terrifying.
- Jotunheim is a frozen wasteland of giants and massive architecture.
The way Magnus travels between these realms via the World Tree, Yggdrasil, makes the world feel massive yet connected. It’s not just "portal fantasy." The realms bleed into each other. You might find a goat-driven carriage in the middle of a Boston traffic jam.
Why It Holds Up in 2026
Rereading the series today, it’s striking how well it handles themes of homelessness and displacement. Magnus starts the series as a kid sleeping in a tent. Even when he’s living in a magical hotel with unlimited room service, he carries that trauma with him. He’s always looking for the exits. He’s always checking his pockets.
Riordan doesn't "fix" Magnus’s past by giving him magic powers. He acknowledges that those experiences shaped him.
The series also doesn't shy away from the darker side of Viking culture. While it’s a "kids' book," it touches on the toxic parts of the warrior mindset—the idea that you’re only worth something if you’re dying in battle. Magnus constantly questions this. He wonders why everyone is so eager for the end of the world.
It’s a smart, subversive take on the genre.
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Actionable Insights for New Readers
If you’re planning to dive into Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard for the first time, or if you’re recommending it to someone else, here is how to get the most out of the experience:
Don't skip the "Glossary" or the "Runes" section.
Riordan actually includes a guide to the Futhark alphabet. It’s not just filler. Understanding what the runes represent (like Fehu for wealth or Ansuz for signals) adds a layer of foreshadowing to the chapters.
Read the Percy Jackson "Ship of the Dead" crossover.
There is a brief moment where Percy appears to give Magnus a "how not to die at sea" lesson. It’s hilarious because it highlights just how different their powers are. Percy is a natural in the water; Magnus is basically a terrified cat when he’s near the ocean.
Pay attention to the chapter titles.
They are legendary. Titles like "Hearthstone Passes Out Even More Than Jason Grace (Though I Have No Idea Who That Is)" or "My Sword Almost Ends Up on eBay" give you a glimpse into Magnus’s chaotic headspace.
Look for the 9-World connections.
Try to map out how the different realms correlate to Magnus’s emotional state. When he’s in Alfheim, the "perfect" world, he’s at his most uncomfortable. It’s a great bit of character-driven world-building.
What to Read Next
Once you finish The Ship of the Dead, you aren't quite done. You should track down 9 from the Nine Worlds. It’s a collection of short stories told from the perspectives of the supporting characters. You get to see what Amir, Sam, and even the fire giant Surt are up to when Magnus isn't around.
The series remains a standout because it refuses to be grimdark despite its heavy subject matter. It’s a story about a dead kid, a talking sword, and the end of the world, yet it’s somehow one of the most optimistic things you’ll ever read.
It reminds us that even if we’re fated to lose, we can still choose how we stand our ground.
If you're looking for a place to start your collection, look for the hardcover box set which often includes a poster of the Nine Worlds. For those who prefer audio, the narration by Christopher Guetig captures Magnus’s dry, Bostonian wit perfectly. Digging into the actual Norse myths alongside the books—specifically the Jackson Crawford translations—can also make the experience way richer.