It's a bold claim on the back of the book: "Everyone's heard of King Arthur, but until now, no one's ever heard the truth." The truth? Probably not, even accepting that such a person truly existed. But author Philip Reeve, in his novel Here Lies Arthur, spins a tail that strips Arthur's legend of any real magic while explaining how magic became so closely associated with his mythology.

The story is told through the eyes of Gwyna, the young daughter of a slave who is found by the mysterious Myrddin, bard and counselor to Arthur, who uses her to forge the myth of the Lady of the Lake, then disguises her as a boy so no one makes the connection.

And no, don't assume like I did that she is Arthur's future queen. Gwenhwyfar comes into the story much later, and they are nothing alike.

Arthur is likable enough, a strong war duke in a tumultuous Britain, but he's also a bully and a ruffian, using threats and extortion to take what he wants and consolidate power. Myrddin helps things along by telling stories, often outright lies, to build Arthur's legend and turn him into a leader man will follow. Arthur is captivated by his mythical reflection, but he isn't particularly inspired to live up to the legend. He mostly wants a nice place to live, plenty of loot, a woman (not necessarily his wife), some people to fight and, of course, prestige.

You won't find many of the usual characters in this book. There's no Lancelot, no Gawain, no Gareth or Bors. There's Cei, Arthur's loyal brother. There's Medrawt, Arthur's nephew (not his son in this version), and there's Bedwyr, who is Medrawt's brother, Gwyna's childhood friend and, eventually, Gwenhwyfar's lover.

There's deceit, revenge, betrayal and murder. There's the eventual climax that we always know must come. And there's an argument made for the power of stories, and how a good tale can sometimes be more important, in the long run, than the truth.

Here Lies Arthur is by no means one of my favorite novelizations of this timeless legend. I don't mind the absence of magic -- in fact, I often prefer it -- but I do like an Arthur who's a little more ... well, Arthurian. Maybe the historical Arthur, if he really existed, would have been less noble and selfless, more like Reeve portrays him. It's an interesting take, but it made me a little sad.