Sometimes, the best stories are the ones that catch you off guard. A Sweet Sting of Salt by Rose Sutherland wasn’t initially on my radar, but as soon as I found out about its premise, I knew I had to read it. Inspired by the classic legend of the Selkie Wife, this novel is a historical fiction retelling that combines a captivating blend of Celtic folklore, sapphic romance, and just a tiny dab of the fantastical.
The story opens in a small, Nova Scotian town in the early 1800s. It is a community of mostly farmers and fishermen, and our protagonist Jean is the only midwife for miles around. One stormy night, while getting ready for bed in her lonely seaside cottage, she hears a cry from outside and is shocked to see a pregnant young woman—clearly in labor—stumbling along the shore. After hustling the drenched woman indoors, Jean realizes she is speaking in a foreign tongue, hampering their ability to communicate. Despite this, Jean manages to get the woman to trust her, helping deliver her baby safely.
Gradually, Jean begins to piece together the mystery of the strange woman’s appearance. She finds out her name is Muirin, and that she must be the new wife of Tobias, who lives on the land next to Jean’s. Indeed, when Jean heads out the next morning to seek out her neighbor, she finds Tobias frantically searching for Muirin. When the couple are reunited, Tobias seemed relieved and overjoyed at the birth of his son, but Jean notices that Muirin’s behavior becomes guarded and closed off in the presence of her supposedly loving husband. Driven by a fierce protectiveness, Jean sets out to uncover Muirin’s secret past in order to keep her new friend and her baby safe.
At its core, A Sweet Sting of Salt is a heartwarming tale of unexpected love and connection. Jean is the main pillar of this novel, a fantastic protagonist on whom everything significant and amazing about this story is built. Harboring a secret herself, Jean is an ostracized member of her community because of a forbidden relationship she shared with a childhood friend which ended in disaster and heartbreak. Becoming a respected midwife was the second chance she cannot afford to lose, yet she would readily put aside her own needs for those whom she has given her loyalty and devotion.
The plot itself is evenly paced, and while the relationship between Jean and Muirin takes center stage, it is nevertheless handled subtly in a way that never overshadows the other elements in the book. The slow-burn romance is beautifully written with genuine emotional depth, allowing the characters’ bond to develop organically, making it all the more believable.
Finally, the wild and windswept shores of Nova Scotia lend a perfect vibe and Gothic atmosphere to the setting of this novel. In the author’s afterword, Sutherland writes about the very real places that inspired her, and this deep connection to her home can be experienced in the vivid descriptions of the that bring Jean and Muirin’s tale to life.
All told, A Sweet Sting of Salt is a delightful surprise and an impressive debut by Rose Sutherland. For fans of fiction inspired by classic folklore or readers looking for a unique historical novel with a touch of magic, look no further....more
After the Forest by Kell Woods is the latest addition to my extensive list of fairy tale retellings, yet despite its fresh take on a bunch of traditional elements, I may have just hit my saturation point with this genre. Really, it’s not the book, it’s me—in this crowded landscape where stories can start to blend together, this one was a solid entry but didn’t quite leave a lasting impression.
Following a recent trend in “what if” retellings, After the Forest imagines the aftermath of the classic Hansel and Gretel tale by taking a rather cynical view of the two siblings’ lives after they defeat the wicked witch and escape from her gingerbread house. The trauma they’ve endured is evidenced fifteen years later, in the aftermath of a long and arduous war that has left most of the countryside a smoking ruin. Hans is deeply in debt from his out-of-control drinking and gambling, and Greta is working herself to the bone to support them both. Relying on a recipe found in a secret grimoire, she bakes irresistible gingerbread cookies to sell which barely keeps them afloat.
But even then, she and her brother face the threat of losing everything as Greta’s deliciously addictive cookies have made her the target of the superstitious townsfolk and unpleasant whispers speculating about what happened to her all those years ago. As Greta struggles to come to terms with her secret and the powers that seem both a curse and blessing, a dark magic in the forest is stirring. At this point, the story becomes less of a retelling and more of a historical fantasy inspired by multiple fairy tales as the author weaves together several narratives to form a rich tableau of inspiration, pulling from many different sources. Gradually, these threads converge to shape Greta’s destiny, taking her through a series of challenges that will not only shape her personality but also show her the true extent of her potential.
There’s a lot to like here. Woods excels in writing characters you can easily sympathize with, capturing Greta’s predicament in dealing with Hans as well as the prejudices of the town, which can spell death for her if the rumors get out of hand (though the people seem to enjoy her baking well enough). The prose is gorgeous, evocative, and well suited to the type of story being told—a heady concoction of fairy tale and folk magic, historical fiction, and even a generous side helping of sweet romance.
But in this sense, it is also treading familiar ground, echoing the similarly themed works of Naomi Novik (Uprooted and Spinning Silver), Katherine Arden (The Winternight trilogy), Hannah Whitten (For the Wolf), Juliet Marillier (Sevenwaters series), and I could go on. Needless to say, it’s a saturated market, and authors will need a bolder style or narrative to stand out. Don’t get me wrong—for many readers, After the Forest will likely make a splash, though for me, it didn’t quite resonate. Despite—or perhaps because of—the esteemed company it keeps, much of the novel makes me feel like I have been/here done that before.
That said, my reservations notwithstanding, I would still recommend giving After the Forest a chance, especially if the premise intrigues you or if you are a fan of any of the books mentioned above. Honestly, this was an impressive debut, and I would read another book by Kell Woods in a heartbeat as I was blown away by the writing and I see great things in her future. Plus, while my personal experience may have left me somewhat critical of this new wave of fairy-tale inspired fiction, the allure of this genre is absolutely subjective; others might appreciate in this one the enchantment that I found difficult to fully embrace. So definitely don’t let my review dissuade you! There’s a distinct possibility that After the Forest holds the magic you’re seeking within its pages....more
Thornhedge is a fairytale retelling by T. Kingfisher, the pen name of author Ursula Vernon, like you’ve never seen before. Prepare to be whisked away by this enchanting novella based on the classic Sleeping Beauty story with a wonderful twist.
Once upon a time, there lived a fairy called Toadling. As her name implies, she is a plain girl but also kind and guileless, unlike most of the stories they tell about the fae. She can also shapeshift into a toad at will, making her perfectly suited for the inconspicuous role of guard duty outside an ancient castle overgrown with thorns.
All this time, Toadling has done her job, keeping trespassers away from the old castle as well as its precious secret safe inside. That is, until one day, a shining knight on horseback approaches, starling Toadling out of her lonely contentment. Halim is the first person she has spoken to in centuries, yet the two of them hit it off right away. She even reveals to him her ability to transform, and of how she was from the human world but was stolen away by fairies as a newborn.
For his part, Halim is polite and fascinated by Toadling. He in turn tells her how he came to be here. For you see, he’s read stories about a castle holding a princess captive, and like others before him, has traveled far to see for himself if they are true.
Of course, like any good T. Kingfisher story, there are hints of horror as well. Gradually, readers will discover Toadling’s connection to castle and the princess through the revelations that come to light via her past and present narratives. Fans of the author will also know that Kingfisher hardly ever leaves her retellings without a major twist. In that sense, there was some predictability in the plot, but I found that it hardly mattered with this modestly sized novella, not when its overall vibe was nothing short of magical, with elements of fairy myths woven throughout.
Amazingly though, flying in the face of cliches and stereotypes, T. Kingfisher has also breathed new life into what for many is a familiar story. With vivid imagination and sharp wit, she has created in Toadling and Halim a pair of memorable characters whose charming and delightful qualities will endure. Neither are protagonists you would expect in a fairytale, but let’s face it, that’s precisely why I loved them—and I know others will as well.
Despite it clocking in at just over 100 pages, this novella also packs an emotional punch. Don’t let its short length fool you, as each page is filled with all kinds of extraordinary surprises. With so many fairytale retellings flooding the market these days, it’s understandable to want to read one that stands apart, and indeed, if that’s what you are looking for, then Thornhedge is perfect....more
Long story short, I didn’t think A Mirror Mended was quite as good as its predecessor A Spindle Splintered, but if you enjoyed the adventure of Zinnia Gray in the first book, chances are you’ll find a lot to like in this follow-up as well.
The story catches up with our protagonist five years following the events of A Spindle Splintered, and in the interim she has been to pretty much every version of the Sleeping Beauty there is, “fixing” each tale by rescuing the titular princess. She does this by carrying around a magical spindle, which transports her to the different worlds every time she pricks her finger. Right before her fiftieth mission, just as Zinnia is beginning to think she can’t possibly keep this up anymore, she glances into a mirror and is shocked to see a stranger’s face staring back at her.
And no, that isn’t supposed to be some cheesy metaphor. The face staring back at Zinnia is a woman she has never seen before, but she’s gorgeous and is begging her for help, so Zinnia figures it’s another princess needing to be saved. After she jumps through the mirror and is transported into the story, however, the beautiful woman reveals herself to be the Evil Queen of the Snow White fairy tale, throwing Zinnia for a loop. Still, even villains need saving sometimes, and the Queen is desperate for her own better ending, hoping Zinnia could be the one to give it to her.
First, the good: Much like A Spindle Splintered, A Mirror Mended definitely has the humor going for it. The tone is even snarkier, if you can believe it, and there plenty more jokes and jabs aimed at the absurdities of fairy tales, which is good news if a satirical angle is your thing. The focus also shifts to Snow White, and I loved Alix E. Harrow’s take on it. Turning the classics on their head is what the author is good at, so you certainly wouldn’t be disappointed if you enjoy unique and original retellings.
And now for the not so good. The aforementioned snark could be a double-edged sword, as occasionally Zinnia’s quippy commentary would land at the most inopportune times to yank me out of the moment. Also, while I understand these Fractured Fables novellas are meant to light reads, I’d nevertheless expect a certain level of tension from the main conflict and the characters’ predicaments. Unfortunately, the protagonist’s constant fawning over the Evil Queen’s beauty was a distraction that made it difficult to take any threat seriously, and like, if her attentions were clearly not on the dangers at hand, then why should mine be?
The plot was also on the weaker side. There didn’t seem to be much point to this installment other than to strengthen Zinnia’s relationships with her friends Charm and Prim, putting the trio through some rather contrived tribulations while the rest of the story felt like filler material used to pad out the book. Then there was the secondary goal of pushing a romance between Zinnia and the Evil Queen which clearly took precedent over establishing a convincing plot, since solutions to the characters’ problems would seemingly materialize out of the blue, or pieces of the puzzle would fall into the place without much explanation or reason.
Still, your mileage may vary. As I said, these novellas are probably meant to be light, fluffy fun reads, so it’s all about expectations. If you’re a fan of the first book or the author though, you owe it to yourself to give it a try. I will look forward to (hopefully) more from Fractured Fables....more
Christina Henry has made a name for herself with her dark retellings of classic fairy tales and fantasy legends, but Horseman: A Tale of Sleepy Hollow is really more of her imagining of a sequel to the Washington Irving story. In this novel, we follow fourteen-year-old Ben Van Brunt, who was born a girl but has always identified more as a boy. Approximately twenty years have passed since Ichabod Crane’s infamous encounter with the Headless Horseman, but the tales have since lived on in local gossip and in the games of children. One day, while re-enacting those events with the other youngsters in town, Ben comes across the body of one of his playmates in the woods, missing his head and hands. Soon, the news of this gruesome find has everyone in Sleepy Hollow asking some uncomfortable questions.
However, Ben’s grandfather Brom “Bones” Van Brunt insists that the Horseman isn’t real, and he should know better than most. As someone who was actually there when it all went down nearly two decades ago, if Brom says it’s all just a legend, then that should be the end of it, case closed. And yet, Ben still can’t help but wonder, not to mention the fact he’s sure there’s also more out there in the woods, something even more monstrous and evil than the Horseman, though its intentions are just as nebulous. Ben then finds out that his grandparents haven’t been completely truthful to him when it comes to their family history and the fate of his parents, which now casts doubt on everything Brom and his grandmother Katrina have ever claimed, including what they’ve said about the existence of the Horseman.
It took several days for me to gather my thoughts after finishing this book. Initially, I was going to give it 3 stars, but now that I’ve had some time to mull it over, I think I’ll be downgrading it to 2. Needless to say, I was disappointed in Horseman, and I think the last time I felt this let down by a Henry novel was with The Girl in Red, except this somehow feels worse. At least with The Girl in Red, it became clear relatively early on that the author was only basing the story on a loose interpretation of the source material, while Horseman, ostensibly touted as a sequel to The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, felt more like a bait-and-switch.
Overall, there was minimal effort on Henry’s part into making the world feel reminiscent of the original classic. Sure, she may have provided names of a handful of familiar people and places, but details and descriptions were noticeably sparse. None of the characters, including our protagonist, felt like real people exhibiting motivations, personalities or behaviors that felt all that convincing. For example, reactions to shocking events, like finding a mutilated body of a child in the woods, or discovering an astounding new fact about your neighbor who you thought you’ve known your whole life, etc. came across as muted and completely unrealistic.
As some reviewers have noted, the matter of Ben’s gender was also handled rather poorly. Whatever happened to showing, not telling? There’s hardly any development beyond Ben’s endless exposition. At a certain point, the story also skips ten years ahead to Ben having already established his new identity and life in one of the most egregious examples of glossing over I’ve ever seen. But hey, at least in the end we find out that Ben’s gender actually has an essential role in the story’s final reveal so the issue wasn’t just tacked on, because that’s the only way this whole thing could have turned out worse.
Anyway, I hate to even think this, because I still respect the hell out of Christina Henry, she who wrote such brilliant works such as the Chronicles of Alice series or Lost Boy, but I was struck with the impression that Horseman was just an excuse to churn out a quick book. It felt rushed and lazy, and certainly not of the same caliber as her other aforementioned fairy-tale and mythical legend inspired novels. I suppose there is some entertainment value here if you are interested in the original Sleepy Hollow tale, but I was really looking forward to this and can’t say I was very happy with the way things turned out. At least the narrator for the audiobook did a good job though, and I’ll be watching out for any more of Em Grosland’s performances....more
My YA burnout continues, and I think that’s where a lot of my reluctance to pick up even books with stories that look interesting to me, but I thought for sure I couldn’t go wrong with a dark Peter Pan retelling. Well, guess I was wrong. It’s not that Lost in the Never Woods was a bad story, but it was completely unremarkable, and it just doesn’t stand out or feel unique enough.
Wendy Darling has just turned eighteen. It has been five years since she and her brothers Michael and John went into the woods near their house, but only Wendy walked out months later, with no memory of what happened or any idea where the boys could be. Her amnesia and confusion were chalked up to trauma, and despite the efforts of the authorities, no traces of her brothers were ever found.
But now, children in their local community are going missing again, bringing Michael and John’s disappearance back into the public eye. The renewed interest in the case has put a strain on the family, especially on Wendy, who retreats into her artwork in an attempt to forget the past. When she and her brothers were younger, their mother always told them stories about Peter Pan, and lately Wendy has been sketching the boy who never grew up, imagining in her head what he might look like. The last thing she expected though, was to actually meet him in the flesh. But that is exactly what happens, as Wendy drives home one night and almost runs over an unconscious boy lying in the middle of the road. Rushing out to help, she is shocked when she sees his face clearly and realizes it’s the same one that she has been drawing in her sketchbook for months.
Like I said, Lost in the Never Woods may begin with a good hook, but unfortunately the spark itself never materializes. We spend way too much time establishing Wendy’s life at the hospital volunteering with her best friend, sitting through a bunch of contrived and canned conversations between the two teenage girls. Things start looking up a bit once Peter enters the picture and readers get to catch the first few hints on a possible villain, but then they slow to crawl again as we fall right back into autopilot and continue down the path of mediocrity. The romance is completely paint-by-numbers, and Peter’s cutesy pseudo-charming demeanor also felt really cringey and forced at times.
The ending was just about the only thing I liked, because with those revelations the story came through on its promise of darkness. In fact, when the truth finally hit, the utter devastation of it was kind of jarring, given the overall lighter tone of the novel. It’s like, holy crap, the author actually went and did that! Wow and yay! Despite being totally blindsided, I’m still pleased things turned out that way, giving the conclusion its much needed weight and focus.
Of course, whether it was enough to make up for the lackluster parts of the book is another matter. In fact, I think there are some poignant themes in this book, like messages about growing up or the futility of holding on to the negative emotions of the past, but most of it gets lost in the noise of the more banal, melodramatic YA tropes.
It’s too bad, really, because Lost in the Never Woods could have been so much more. Certain aspects of the story and characters just seemed too shallow and unpolished, and I can only truly recommend this for dedicated fans of Peter Pan retellings who may wish to read every single one they can get their hands on. Otherwise, there are probably better ones out there more worthy of your time and attention....more
So, this is going to be a relatively short review seeing as A Spindle Splintered was a pretty short read, but the story was nevertheless very enjoyable despite its limited length and scope. As the first novella in Alix E. Harrow’s new series offering fresh and unique takes on classic fairy tales, it does a good job of setting the tone for what’s to come!
In the introduction, we meet Zinnia Gray on her twenty-first birthday. While most young people her age would be out celebrating this momentous milestone with carefree abandon, our protagonist is just happy to be still alive. Pretty soon, she knows she will be dead because of an illness that is killing her, and despite the years of medication and treatment to try to control its effects, as far as our protagonist knows, no one with the disease ever lives long enough to see twenty-two.
In the face of this gloomy prognosis, however, Zinnia’s best friend Charm is determined to give her a birthday to remember. Knowing that her friend is obsessed with Sleeping Beauty, Charm has gone to lengths to arrange a surprise party in an abandoned tower, complete with an old spinning wheel. Impressed with the tableau, Zinnia decides to go full out on the experience by pricking her finger on the spindle, but when she does, something strange happens. Suddenly, she is transported to another world where she meets Primrose, a princess desperate to escape her own fate.
At its heart, A Spindle Splintered is a coming-of-age tale, though a somewhat unique one, seeing as our protagonist is preparing for her death rather than looking forward to the future. Is it any wonder that from a young age she has developed a fascination for Sleeping Beauty, whose story holds some remarkable parallels with her own? Much like the fictional princess who is destined to fall to a curse, Zinnia feels a sense of helplessness to change the cards that she’s been dealt. Admittedly, she is also very harsh in her critique of the fairy tale, but loves it all the same because her ability to relate to the character. Which is why, after breaking through to an alternate reality to come face to face with Primrose, a real-life Sleeping Beauty in the flesh, an immediate bond is forged between the two of them despite coming from very different worlds.
I also enjoyed Harrow’s handling of the story and its themes. While I’m a fan of her novels The Ten Thousand Doors of January and The Once and Future Witches, I certainly wasn’t expecting the same level of depth or character development from this novella, but I was impressed all the same. True, the shorter format was a limiting factor, but the author has still managed to pack a surprising amount into the story’s modest page count of 128 pages. Along with a new and imaginative approach to the Sleeping Beauty, there is also a refreshing, rather hopeful message embedded in the narrative arc for Zinnia, in which she makes some surprising discoveries about herself. There’s even room for some quirky and upbeat humor, which is guaranteed to put a smile on your face.
Bottom line, I had a fun time with A Spindle Splinted, so it’s probably safe to say this compact little novella managed to succeed in its goals. Its bite-sized format was not as restrictive as it could have been, thanks to fantastic plotting and storytelling on the author’s part as well as a great sense of humor. The book certainly could have been longer, but I was also glad to find out that Zinnia’s tale will be continuing in the next installment, A Mirror Mended....more
I have several of Angela Slatter’s books on my shelves, but this might be the first full length novel I’ve read by her, and what a wonderful surprise it was! All the Murmuring Bones is an enchanting tale of hidden magic, of dark secrets and mysterious creatures of the sea, and at the center of it all is a fiercely independent young woman who uses her wits and resources to go on a journey of soul searching.
Set in the 19th century on the Irish coast, the story follows protagonist Miren who is last of the “true” O’Malleys, an old family which has long held sway over the local community. But even as their wealth has dwindled over the years and their ancestral home of Hob’s Hallow stands in near ruins, the O’Malley name still much power and influence. For this reason, Miren’s grandmother Aoife has arranged a marriage for her in the hopes of restoring the family’s fortunes. However, while her intended Aidan is a wealthy man, he is also from an offshoot of the family who has always lusted after the O’Malley name and estate, so for him the union will be nothing more than another business transaction.
In a twist of fate though, Miren soon discovers a secret revealed in a collection of her late grandfather’s old letters. Growing up, she’d always been told her parents died when she was a baby, which was why she was raised by her grandparents. But now, she has reason to believe her mother and father are still alive, living at a place called Blackwater. No one knows where that might be, but Miren is determined to find it and confront her parents on why they gave her up. Besides, she has no desire to lose her freedom or to stay at Hob’s Hallow—especially once she realizes the awful bargain her ancestors had struck to ensure the O’Malley’s prosperity, and that Aoife wants to Miren and Aidan follow in their footsteps. With the sudden death of her grandmother, Miren realizes she has no reason left to stay, and so she makes her daring escape.
What follows is a beautifully written tale, with as much adventure as there is danger. Slatter’s prose is flowing and practically flawless, descriptive yet also tinged with a thread of our protagonist’s wry sense of humor. For this reason, while the story frequently edges into darker territory, it still maintained an easy air that prevented the mood from becoming too heavy (and kept me glued to the page). Of course, it helped too that Miren was such a strong and likeable lead, and the injustices of the circumstances she faced made it easy to feel invested in her quest and cheer her on through her struggles.
On top of that, the author does a superb job at setting the scene, creating a vibrant setting populated by mythical creatures like kelpies, ghosts, merfolk, and more. In fact, the world-building is surprisingly well-developed, considering her delicate approach to the paranormal—not with a heavy hand, but giving just enough to give the reader a sense that these elements are as real to the protagonist as the world she lives in. It’s a kind of magic one can feel working from the very first page.
Miren herself is a character that feels very relatable. Although she is resourceful and intelligent, she’s not the most level-headed, her emotions often running close to the surface. Strong feelings are quick to flare up in her, which sometimes leads her to act impulsively, landing her in or out of trouble depending on the situation. The people she meets are also delightful, even the shady scoundrels and ne’er do wells. Truth be told, it kept things interesting, not knowing how Miren would react to the many random surprises or obstacles she encounters along the way, and these unknown wonders also served to drive home the fairy tale inspiration behind her journey.
All told, I found this novel captivating. Slatter knows how to hook the reader, and All the Murmuring Bones certainly held my attention rapt with its indomitable protagonist, artful storytelling, and rich atmosphere....more
Rena Rossner’s debut The Sisters of the Winter Wood was an enchanting read for me, and so when I heard that her sophomore novel will be another historical fantasy and folkloric myth blend, I’d hoped that it would work the same magic. And for the most part, it did! That said, there was also an overwhelming amount of information to take in, and I think that might have had a lot to do with my initial struggle to connect with the story and characters.
The Light of the Midnight Stars follows the lives of three sisters growing up with their rabbi father in the Hungarian village of Trnava. As descendants of King Solomon, their family is well respected by the Jewish community, and the girls are each gifted with a magical ability—Hannah, who has the power to heal and make things grow; Sarah, who can command fire and make things burn; and Levana, who can read the secrets of the stars. However, as superstition runs rampant throughout the rest of the village, bringing religious persecution and fear of witchcraft, the sisters don’t dare to make their abilities known.
But then a mysterious black mist descends upon Trnava, causing people to fall deathly ill. Despite her misgivings, Hannah, the oldest sister, makes a bold decision to use her healing, setting off a tragic chain of events leading to her own heartbreak and the upheaval of the town’s Jewish population. After fleeing Trnava, the rabbi and his family find themselves settling in a new place, protecting themselves by hiding their true faith and identities. Emotionally damaged and traumatized though, the sisters have a long journey ahead of them until they can feel whole and ready to live and love again.
Like I said, there is a lot happening here, and what I’ve provided above is just an extremely truncated synopsis. While the deluge of information made the early parts of the novel slow to take off, I still found myself captivated by many points and took to certain aspects of the story right away. As with The Sisters of the Winter Wood, I was impressed with how Rossner combined magic, myth, and history from her interest and experiences with her own Jewish ancestry. Central to the book is the theme of religious belief and identity, and I feel the author did a wonderful job exploring these topics through the eyes of the three sisters, who are each unique in their own way. Subsequently, they also dealt with their individual conflicts by following their own heart’s desires and motivations, developing along their own paths. As such, it is probably no surprise that characterization was superb.
That said, when it comes to books with an information overload at the beginning, my experience is that things typically tend to ease off as the story progresses, gradually dispelling any feelings of confusion or of being swamped. Except, I don’t know if I really got that with this. In part, this was due to the structure of the novel, which cycled between the sisters’ POVs while weaving in the odd interlude. The tricky part comes, however, as some of these chapters are presented differently, as journal entries or in verse, etc., and the frequent injection of side stories and folktales. In fact, the act of storytelling is a very important concept, a key part of the book’s premise and the myriad legends and historical narratives that inspired its foundations. In a way, this does explain how some mythological motifs would pop up again and again, echoing throughout the characters’ past and present. It’s a clear nod to the importance of the oral tradition in preserving heritage and culture, especially where religious parables and folktales are concerned.
Still, that doesn’t mean the format was all that conducive to the reading experience, or that it made things any easier to understand. The plot doesn’t follow a conventional roadmap, and despite this providing the book with a distinct feel, there were nonetheless sections I found somewhat convoluted and difficult to follow.
In sum, I’m going to reiterate a few of the same conclusions I drew for my review The Sisters of the Winter Wood, because I think a lot of it applies here as well. The Light of the Midnight Stars is beautifully written, but it is also less plot focused, emphasizing the characters and their relationships instead. That along with the irregular structure and flow of the novel means that it’s probably not going to be for everyone, but it’s worth checking out if the story’s description along with its inspiration from Jewish culture and Eastern European history interests you. ...more
On the edge of a magical forest known as the Wilderwood, there lies a modest kingdom called Valleyda ruled by a queen with twin daughters fated for different paths. As the only Second Daughter born in centuries, Redarys is to be given to the Wolf in the Wood, for legend has it that the royal family struck this bargain long ago in return for the protection that holds the darkness of the forest at bay.
Ever since learning about her role, Red has been trying to come to terms with what that would mean—to be sacrificed to a monster in order to keep her home as well as those she loves safe, while her twin Neverah would be the one to inherit the throne. Still, even burdened with this terrible knowledge, the bond between the two girls remains unbroken, only strengthening as their twentieth birthday approaches, which is when Red must surrender herself to the Wilderwood. Heartsick over the circumstances, Neve vows she will never give up on her sister without a fight.
But then, the day finally comes, and Red enters the forest to discover much of what she has been told about the Wolf had been a lie. Eammon, as he is called, is actually the Wolf’s son, and he is not really the monster he is purported to be. When she meets him at his keep, he even gives her the option to return home. However, by this point, Red has learned too much about the magic of the woods, and how the guardians of it will eventually fall to the dark powers threatening to overwhelm it if she leaves. If that happens, not only will their realm be destroyed, but so too would Valleyda and the world beyond. Embracing her destiny, Red decides the best thing to do would be to stay and help Eammon in his efforts, which would also mean letting him teach her how to develop her own magical gifts.
So, we all know how book blurb comparisons can be notoriously inaccurate, but every once in a while, some do get it right. In the case of For the Wolf at least, I think the statement “for fans of Uprooted” is highly appropriate, since I feel there are definite similarities between the two books when it comes to certain elements of story as well as in the overall tone. Clearly, the novel also borrows its inspiration from the tale of “Little Red Riding Hood,” though I probably wouldn’t go as far as to call it a retelling. If it is, then it’s a very loose one, and in fact, if you ask me, I’d say much of the plot actually resembles the story of “Beauty and the Beast” more than anything else (again, much like Uprooted).
Anyway, one would think For the Wolf would be right up my alley, seeing as I’m a fan of fairy tale inspired stories and I also happened to love Uprooted. And well, for the most part, I did enjoy it. That said, something also felt off, and I can’t really place my finger on what. Part of it might have something to do with the development of the relationship between Red and Eammon (because in case it needed to be said, romance is a rather big focus of this one) and the effects it had on the characters individually. About 60-70% of the romance was slow-burn, which was quite lovely, but then it was like the author lost her patience or something, because after that, it was like her two characters took a bunch of stupid pills and hopped the train to crazy town. With no regard for herself of others, Red would make colossally impulsive decisions, leading to much pointless drama, back and forth bickering and misunderstandings. To be fair though, I might just be ultra-sensitive whenever stuff like this happens, because I have very little tolerance for it. But I would say there were other minor hurdles caused by these issues, including uneven pacing and lack of plot focus in places where the narrative was more concerned with tinkering around with the romance.
That said, there were a lot of things I liked as well, and one major aspect was the writing. While it may have been borderline too flowery in some places, on the whole I came to enjoy Whitten’s lush and vivid style. The lore and world building was interesting too, even if I could have done with just a tad more explanation. My heart also held a soft spot for Neve, who was given her own POV chapters. Her devotion to Red was admirable, and vice versa. I loved whenever they recalled memories of the two of them as young girls, and if anything, the bond between the sisters was the true shining jewel of this story.
In sum, if you enjoy fairy tale retellings, especially “Beauty and the Beast” retellings, you may be more primed to enjoy For the Wolf. If you were also a fan of Uprooted and are hungering for something more like it, I daresay this one also shares a lot of similarities in terms of the story and general themes. Overall, there were some plotting and pacing issues that prevented me from embracing it fully, but I’m cautiously optimistic for the series which I definitely plan on continuing....more
If you loved The Hazel Wood and The Night Country by Melissa Albert, Tales from the Hinterlands is not to be missed. Heck, even if you aren’t a fan of the series, you should give this one a chance. Filled with stories both wondrous and terrifying, this is not your typical book of fairy tales.
Those familiar with the main series will recognize this as the collection written by the protagonist’s grandmother Althea Prosperpine before she all but vanished from the public eye, even as her work gained ground in certain circles. As readers, we were able to experience snippets and pieces of these stories over the course of Alice’s adventures, but merely peripherally, often in a secondary context. Now, finally, we are able to read them in their entirety, and discover out what they’ve been all about. If you haven’t read the novels though, don’t despair! They are certainly not a prerequisite, and in fact, it might even be beneficial to read this collection first as it may provide you with the context to appreciate the novels even more.
Normally when I review short story collections, I break down each entry by providing a brief summary along with my comments. However, I will not be doing that this time, since it would not work as well. Much like the traditional fairy tales that inspired them, many of the stories in here are allegorical, going beyond the plot to probe deeper themes and messages. The Brothers Grimm influence is also strong with this one, both in the whimsy and darkness of the tales. Some of them are downright twisted and disturbing, pushing beyond the boundaries of fantasy and entering horror territory as they explore extreme and impossible situations.
While I will not go into detail into each story, I do have a few favorites. The opening tale, The Door that Wasn’t There was a nice introduction, setting the tone for the rest of the collection. Fairy tale fans will appreciate the familiar tropes—rich merchants and their daughters, stepmothers and blood curses—but the ending will also surprise you, a reminder that Albert has her own ideas and that she’s working towards a unique vision for The Hazel Wood series. Other favorites include Jenny and the Night Women, The Skinned Maiden, as well as Alice-Three-Times. I loved how the protagonists of these stories are not your helpless maidens, but neither are they always good, kind, or sweet. In fact, some of them are highly unlikeable, and you’d be hard pressed to sympathize with them at all.
I also want to note that I’m generally not a big reader of short stories or collections because I prefer more developed characters and plotlines, and the short format is usually too restrictive for that. Fairy tales, however, are an exception. As I alluded to before, many fairy tales are often about something bigger than just the plot at hand. A lot of times, their characters as well as the things they do or feel are also less intrinsic to the story and more about representing something about human nature. I definitely got this vibe with many of the stories in Tales from the Hinterland, and in many cases, the shorter they were, the more meaningful they actually felt, while the longer ones rambled and lost much of their impact. Don’t get me wrong; all the stories in this collection were fun to read, but there were a few meandering, ambiguous ones that failed to hold my attention all the way, like Hansa the Traveler, Ilsa Waits, and even the much acclaimed Twice-Killed Katherine.
Still, the good stories were by far the majority. Save for a few mediocre entries, this was actually a very strong collection of fairy tales, one of the most impressive I’ve ever read. Be forewarned though, Tales from the Hinterlands is not for the faint of heart. Personally, I felt the overall tone was even darker and more mature than the novels, but that’s probably why I enjoyed it so much! Like I said, this collection can be read independently of the series, but mega-fans will probably want to seek out the print edition, as I hear the illustrations in it are gorgeous. I had the pleasure of reviewing the audio edition which had no visual component obviously, but I nevertheless had a great time listening to the fantastic narration by Rebecca Soler, whose talented voice acting made each story shine in its own way....more
Novellas and anthologies? Typically not my thing. But since this collection was not only written by Christina Henry but is also part of her incredible Chronicles of Alice world, I knew I would make an exception. Looking Glass features four new stories set in the same universe as Alice and Red Queen, which reimagines Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland through dark horror lens. It is not a sequel per se, but seeing as this grim quartet of interlinked short tales serves as a continuation of the saga, it would be helpful to have read the previous novels.
Lovely Creature – 4 stars
This opening story was also my favorite of the bunch. It follows a young girl named Elizabeth who lives with her family in New City. The first time she heard the name “Alice” spoken in their house was after the news came that the asylum burned down, and Elizabeth was perplexed by the reaction. Her father was quick to dismiss it, while her mother seemed heartbroken, and it wasn’t until later that Elizabeth learned the truth: Alice was the name of an older sister she never knew, and it was because everyone thought she was mad so she was sent away.
Clearly though, the memory of Alice stayed. Everyone thinks Elizabeth reminds them of her, and she’s sick of hearing it…especially from the voices in her own head. The thing is, what nobody knows is that Elizabeth has magic. And though it has helped her get out of trouble in the past, now having the talent also draws danger to her.
This story was a great one to lead with, for several reasons, and not least because it was one of the stronger ones. Elizabeth was a charming character, full of the innocence and delight of a small child. But while she may be sheltered, she’s no dummy—she knows her world is not a nice place, and there are plenty of bad folk out there who would harm little girls…bad folk like Cheshire, Caterpillar, and the Rabbit. This story also introduces the harsh world of the Chronicles of Alice, and the wealth disparity seen between New City and Old City. Elizabeth is thrown into a situation where everything is new to her, and none of it is pleasant. But by using her magic and her wits, she not only manages to teach the villains a lesson, she also proves she is clever and can save herself.
Girl in Amber – 3 stars
Alice wakes up from a dream about her little sister at the beginning of this story, and we find out that she and Hatcher are between homes at the moment, looking for a place to settle down and put down roots. But before they can get too far, winter sets in and the two of them find themselves stranded in the middle of a blizzard. They decide to have Hatcher shift into his wolf form in order to scout ahead, though that does mean Alice will have to continue alone for a while. Freezing, she has no choice but to take shelter in an abandoned house full of strange horrors.
This story was probably my least favorite in this collection. For lack of a better term, it just seemed pointless—most of it was about Alice stumbling around in the snow and in the dark. Once inside the creepy house of horrors, it felt like this story was simply throwing any and all kinds of unsettling experiences at her, from scary visions to monstrous creatures, but the truth was none of it was actually all that frightening. I get what message Henry was trying to send here, but I wish she’d gone about it in a more memorable way.
When I First Came to Town – 3.5 stars
Before Alice, Hatcher had a very different life. His name was Nicholas, for one, and he also had a wife and child. When I First Came to Town is a story about how he met his beloved Hattie, flashing back to his teenage years working at a fight club trying to make enough money to get out of Old City. So when his boss sets him up to fight the hulking man known as Grinder—called that because he always leaves his opponents dead or injured so badly they never fight again—Nicholas has little choice but to accept, because the money was just too good. Luckily for Nicholas though, he has a trick or two up his sleeve. He realizes he has magic, which will give him an advantage in the ring, but will it be enough to keep in alive?
I love the character of Hatcher, and it was interesting to get this glimpse into this past, though it is difficult to reconcile the teenager in this story to the broken man he is now, since the two are so different. However, we certainly got to see where his gentle and caring side came from, and the way it led him to Hattie. Still, even in his youthful heart, Nicholas also had a steely resolve in him, which helped him face up to the pure evil in tale.
The Mercy Seat – 3.5 stars
This final tale was all right, not the best or worst of the collection, but I do feel it deserves special attention because of the way it brings closure to the series. Chronologically, it takes place shortly after Girl in Amber, following the harsh winter in which Alice and Hatcher finally finds shelter with a kind witch named Olivia. At the beginning of this story, Alice makes a startling discovery, and knows it’s a sign they must leave to find a permanent place to settle down.
But once more, Alice and Hatcher’s journey is fraught with peril. They come upon a seemingly peaceful village, only to find out that beneath its idyllic surface, a terrible secret is what keeps everyone in line. As the two of them fight to protect each other, Alice and Hatcher realize what they truly mean to one another, and what they both want out of this life. Given this, the central conflict in this tale seems almost incidental given the more significant revelations and other major themes at play here, but it does end on a happy note, which I think is ultimately what readers will latch onto. After all, these characters have been through hell and then some, and it’s high time they deserve some peace. The Mercy Seat, while short, gives Alice and Hatcher their perfect ending, and so as a collection, Looking Glass earns a thumbs up from me....more
After consistently being disappointed by so many books described as “Mulan retellings”, you can probably understand why I went into The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan with no small amount of trepidation (though of course I could hardly resist it). And quite honestly? I was blown away by this “Own Voices” novel. Sherry Thomas has written a refreshing new take on this famous Chinese folktale about the legendary female warrior, applying her own unique approach to the portrayal while staying faithful to the original story and ensuring historical and linguistic accuracy.
In this version of the tale, Hua Mulan has always been a skilled fighter. Each generation, the Huas and their rivals the Yuans vie for the honor to safeguard the two fabled swords named Sky Blade and Heart Sea, the outcome determined by a duel between one representative from each family. From a young age, Mulan has been trained for the role by her father, who made her disguise herself as a boy and take on the name of her twin brother who died in infancy. If she wins her duel against her Yuan challenger, Sky Blade and Heart Sea will be reunited under their house, and she will also score a major victory in the feud between their two families, avenging her father who was maimed in his own duel a generation before.
However, right before the duel, the Huas receive a letter from her opponent requesting the match to be postponed. War is brewing, and it seems the Yuans must focus their attentions elsewhere. At first, Mulan’s father regards the missive as a snub, until a messenger from the Emperor arrives at their own village along with a royal decree demanding each family put forth a male recruit for the war effort. To protect her little brother, who is too young, and her father, who is disabled and too old, Mulan decides to enlist using her male persona. On her first day in the army, she manages to impress the son of the duke with her martial arts skills, earning herself a place among his elite guard. To her surprise though, the position is not the safe assignment that she had expected. The young princeling is determined to fight on the front lines, and when Mulan discovers the secret he has been hiding, she realizes they may be in more danger than she thought.
Inspired by the traditions of wuxia, a genre which translates to “martial-chivalric” fiction, Sherry Thomas spins an epic tale of courage and adventure. I adored her depiction of Mulan, who embodies all the traits we think about when it comes to the character—fiercely independent, altruistic, and honorable. At the same time, the narrative never lets us forget that behind all that armor, our protagonist is a teenager, and wholly human. She is everything we want out of a kickass heroine, and yet still has a vulnerable side to her that makes her sympathetic and easy to relate to.
The story also takes place in 5th century China, during a period known as the Northern and Southern dynasties which was marked by much political unrest. Frequent references are made to these conflicts between the north and south, creating an atmosphere of tension that pervades through the entire novel. Major kudos to the author for doing what must have been a staggering amount research to get certain details as accurate as possible, and her afterword at the end of the book, including historical and linguistic notes, was a fascinating look into that process.
I really enjoyed the story as well, and the way it retained its folktale roots. Action played a large part, featuring both close-quartered martial arts and large-scale fighting in heated battles. But my favorite scenes were always the quieter moments where we got to explore the character relationships. There is a super sweet romance between our protagonist and her love interest, a man who is as honorable and brave as she is. They were certainly well matched, and I was rooting for them every step of the way. I was also glad this story shone a light on Mulan and the love and respect she has for her father, which a surprising number of retellings tend to neglect, considering his role in her decision to enlist in the army in his place. The Magnolia Sword adds another complex layer to their bond, making the final chapter with Mulan’s homecoming and seeing her father again even more touching and poignant.
Bottom line, I just loved this. The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan is one of the best Young Adult novels—and easily my favorite retelling—that I’ve read so far this year. A very satisfying novel overall, which filled me with all kinds of warm and happy feelings when it was over. Highly recommended!...more
Few retellings invite more scrutiny from me than Beauty and the Beast, one of the most beloved fairy tales, so I was quite surprised at how much I enjoyed this. As retellings go, The Beast’s Heart by Leife Shallcross is pretty low-key, focusing on atmosphere and emotion instead of miring itself in attempts at audacious new twists. This makes it a somewhat slow and plodding tale, and while not all will have the patience for this, on my part I relished every moment.
Told from the perspective of the Beast, our story begins in the enchanted forest where our protagonist lives with the curse cast upon him long ago. Slowly, painfully, he begins to remember the man he once was, but has no memory of why he was made into this beastly form, let alone how to break the curse. For many years he lives alone in his crumbling castle where the magic of the place seems to know his very heart, for it appears to cater to his every need. But even his invisible servants cannot help him with his one true desire, until one day, a lone traveler arrives at his door seeking rest and shelter.
Allowed to stay the night, the traveler has dreams of his family as he slumbers. The Beast is able to see into them and is immediately drawn to the visions of the man’ s youngest daughter Isabeau, who had asked her father to bring her back a rose from his travels. As such, it is a rose that sets off the chain of events that leads to Isabeau to live with the Beast at his castle for one full year, though her father was also sent home with a treasure trove of gifts for his other daughters. For in this version of the tale, Isabeau has two older sisters, each dealing with their own private suffering at the loss of their youngest sibling who was the glue that held all of them together. Through letters delivered via an enchanted box as well as a magic mirror in the Beast’s chambers, readers are able to watch the family grow used to life without Isabeau, and in essence, we have two storylines: one following the Beast and Isabeau at the castle as he tries to win her heart to break the curse, and another less central one that focuses on the happenings back at Isabeau’s home with her Papa and sisters Claude and Marie.
My favorite part of this book is hands down Shallcross’ depiction of the Beast. He is no monster, and over time it becomes clear that there’s not a malicious bone in his body. In fact, I wasn’t even sure why he was cursed in the first place (though later we do get some answers). Regardless, the Beast is most definitely a man, and it is his compassion and humanity that eventually wins Isabeau over. That said, I was impressed with how the author still managed to convey the animalistic nature of the character, even if it was less in the way of a snarling, savage beast and more in the way of, say, a big snuggly St. Bernard. Admittedly, there was also a lot about this image I found pitying. So many times the Beast reminded me of a lovesick puppy trailing after Isabeau, hoping she’ll return his affections while powerless to affect his own situation. In a way though, this classic tortured hero motif worked well, and didn’t feel too out of place in the context of a fairy tale retelling.
I also enjoyed the parts we got to see of Isabeau’s sisters, because let’s face it—this book would have been terribly boring without them. This is not a fast-paced story to begin with, and there’s only so much you can show of the Beast and Isabeau’s daily routine before it becomes dull and repetitive, not to mention there are plenty of times where our protagonist is left alone to his own devices. Enter the magic mirror, in which he frequently checks up on how the rest of Isabeau’s family is doing. With fairy tale retellings being so common these days, I find it helpful when writing reviews to ask myself what makes one different and worth reading, and without a doubt, the answer for The Beast’s Heart is Claude and Marie. There’s a side story here involving the financial decline the family and the devasting effects it has had on all of them, and at the time of Isabeau’s departure, neither of her sisters were doing very well. Over time, however, we get to watch them pick themselves up and learn to be independent and flourish again, both in their personal ventures and in love. Unlike the original version of the Beauty and the Beast in which Beauty has elder sisters who are cruel and spoiled, Marie and Claude are sweet, sympathetic and care deeply about Isabeau. As such, both sisters’ individual stories were greatly endearing.
As for the atmosphere, The Beast’s Heart also offers a nice change of pace. It is dark, but not oppressively so; moody, but not to the point of being melodramatic. In fact, I found the whole book to be quite charming and lovely. But like I said, this is not a fast-paced read, and without the sections involving Isabeau’s sisters, this story probably could have been a short story instead of full-length novel. As you’d expect, there a ton of exposition and detail, albeit all written beautifully. Every now and then I also got the feeling the author was trying for some deeper meaning about what it means to be human (with the Beast’s plight) or even a lesson on self-reliance (because it took Isabeau’s absence for Claude and Marie to find their own strength) but in truth, I didn’t think the story needed any messages to be enjoyable in its own right.
All in all, The Beast’s Heart was a surprisingly good book, a passionately earnest and eloquent debut from Liefe Shallcross. A great read for lovers of quiet, evocative and lyrical fairy tale retellings, this interpretation told from the point-of-view of the Beast is well worth a look....more
A literary fantasy written in the tradition of books like Uprooted and The Bear and the Nightingale, The Sisters of the Winter Wood is Rena Rossner’s debut which blends magic and history with folklore and stories from her own Jewish ancestry. A nineteenth century narrative poem called Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti also provides much of the inspiration for the novel’s premise which centers on a pair of sisters who are tempted by the fruit of goblin merchants, but it is also about so much more.
Once upon a time, a swan and a bear fell in love. They married and had two daughters, sisters who are as different from each other as the sun is different from the moon. Liba is dark-haired, serious, and aloof, nothing like the younger Laya, who is blonde, beautiful, and prone to flights of fancy. Born into a Jewish family, the two of them live isolated from the town in the woods with their mother and father, who have kept the secret of their magical heritage from the girls. But as Liba and Laya begin to grow into womanhood, their parents are finally forced to reveal the truth: their Tati can transform into a bear, a gift which he has passed on to Liba, while Laya has inherited the power to turn into a swan, taking after their Mami.
However, soon after imparting these earth-shattering revelations, their parents are called away to attend an ailing family member on their deathbed, leaving their daughters with instructions to be careful and to look after themselves and each other while they’re gone. Much to Liba’s dismay though, Laya reacts to this newfound freedom from parental guidance with her usual reckless abandon. The younger girl immediately becomes besotted with one of the shady Hovlin brothers who have recently arrived in town to sell fruit at the market. Meanwhile, other strange things are putting the townsfolk on edge, like rumors of a rogue bear in the woods, people are going missing, and then two horribly mutilated bodies are found near an orchard. Amidst rising anti-Semitic attitudes and fears that her sister is being tempted down a dangerous path, Liba grapples with her own feelings for a young man who claims to be in love with her, as well as the changes to her body brought on by her ursine heritage.
The Sisters of the Winter Wood is gorgeously written, if a little over-embellished at times. For example, Laya’s chapters, which alternate between Liba’s, are completely written in verse-form. It’s a stylistic decision that didn’t do much for me personally, though it did help differentiate the contrasts in the sisters’ narrative voices. The prose also has a tendency towards melodrama, using awkward expressions in an attempt to sound more lyrical but more often than not they would merely stick out like a sore thumb. Because of the magical and evocative tone of the novel, however, I would say the writing style effectively adds to the haunting, beguiling atmosphere and the fairy tale undertones the author was obviously trying for.
And of course, as with most fairy tales, there are a lot of familiar motifs and tropes at play here, but I was also impressed how Rossner managed to inject a bit of novelty into the story. Plus, by using the familiarity to her advantage, she allows readers to tease out deeper meanings in the areas she has designed to stand out. At the end of the day, stories like these are about the enduring themes anyway—timeless concepts and values like family, devotion, and unconditional love. Needless to say, the bonds of sisterhood play a significant role, and so too does the characters’ Jewish heritage and how that has affected the way their family is treated. This latter subject has a distinct feel of being more personal and emotional to the author, and she gives some insight as to why in her afterword which includes a brief history of her forebears’ escape from the anti-Semitic pogroms of Europe and later the Nazis. There are elements of her family’s story in the setting of this book, creating a mood of high tension and foreboding. Its especially noticeable in Liba’s chapters, hers being the more anxious voice as she worries for her sister and frets over the darkness spreading through her town.
That said, this book is probably not for everyone. It’s a rather quiet, slow-moving tale, less plot-driven and more concerned with developing the characters and their relationships. However, fans of stories inspired by fairy tales or grounded in folklore will probably like it, especially if you have also enjoyed the genre’s recent offerings from authors like Naomi Novik and Katherine Arden. At the same time, The Sisters of the Winter Wood isn’t bringing us anything too new when it comes to books in this vein. Like most trends, I think fatigue is starting to set in, which probably explains why I’m not feeling as excited and enchanted by this novel as I wanted to be. Still, I enjoyed it a lot, and it’s absolutely worth taking a look if the description of the book’s story and style appeals to you....more
The theme for 2020 so far seems to be sequels with a different tone or feel than their originals. The latest book to fall into this pattern appears to be The Night Country, the follow-up to Melissa Albert’s debut The Hazel Wood, which I really enjoyed. Believe it or not, this one goes even deeper in already dark territory, but I loved how these changes enhanced the story’s haunted atmosphere and complex characters.
Anyway, as with all my sequel reviews, the usual caveat applies: the following may contain discussion involving plot details from earlier books in the series, so be sure to be caught up with The Hazel Wood before proceeding! The beginning of The Night Country takes us back to the story of Alice Proserpine, once called Alice-Three-Times, a princess of a fairy-tale realm known as the Hinterland. With the help of her friend Ellery Finch, she was able to escape the Hinterland’s clutches to attempt living as a mortal in the heart of New York City. However, the shadow cast by her enigmatic grandmother is long, and for Alice and the other survivors who were caught up in the sudden exodus, things will never be the same again. Alice, for one, is finding that living a wholly average and non-magical life as a normal teenager is tougher than she thought, not to mention someone is also out there hunting Hinterland’s ex-inhabitants, killing them in a horrible, gruesome manner…
Meanwhile, Finch finds himself wandering the many pathways of the otherworld dimensions, navigating its mysteries and attempting to unlock its many secrets. He is determined to make his way back to Alice, while trying to make sense of the strange things he encounters in this world where time passes differently and behaves in bizarre ways. On his journey, he learns of a place called The Night Country, which may be his key to understanding Alice and to reunite with her.
With the narrative alternating between Alice’s and Finch’s perspectives, the tone of The Night Country is moodier and has a lot more bite now that the two of them are mostly apart, without their banter to lighten things up. In fact, their story lines don’t come together until nearly the end, when the plot culminates into a stunning climax and conclusion. Until that point though, there’s still plenty of intrigue and darkness in both threads to keep the reader’s attention hooked. Melissa Albert’s handling of the whole “fairy tale genre” is certainly different, putting an imaginative and macabre twist on her storytelling. The little vignettes woven throughout were stroke of genius and added so much to the overall haunting vibes of the novel.
I also liked what has been done with the characters. Alice’s experiences, as well as the knowledge she has gained from the first book have mellowed her out. She’s reached another stage of her life, trying to figure out her next steps. The revelations about her past have turned her world upside down, made her confused about her identity. She’s also trying to work out her feelings for Ellery Finch, and one of the things I enjoyed about this sequel was the way it handled their relationship. I really liked Finch from the first book and was so happy to get so much from his point-of-view, immersing myself in his exploration and discoveries. Without delving too much into the romance that was lightly teased in the first book, The Night Country still managed to create a deeply nuanced and meaningful dynamic between him and Alice.
The author has also made great strides in her writing, tightening up her descriptions and dialing up the atmosphere to make this one an engaging read. Combining fairy tale elements with urban fantasy can be a challenging task, but Albert seems to have no trouble finding the right balance. Her prose ranges from whimsical to haunting, depending on what is required, creating memorable scenes and moments that leaped out at you.
All told, if you enjoyed The Hazel Wood, then you must do yourself a favor and pick up The Night Country, a worthy follow-up that is even more luscious, imaginative, and satisfying. It’s dark yet compelling, and I have to say this new direction has made me even more interested in seeing what the author will do next. Apparently, she will have a short story collection set in the same world called Tales from the Hinterland. I’m not really into anthologies, but I might have to read this one, because I’m just loving the hell out of Melissa Albert’s approach to fairy tales....more
Leigh Bardugo’s The Language of Thorns collects six short stories set in the “Grishaverse”, the world in which her novels like Shadow and Bone and Six of Crows take place. However, these tales are for the most part unrelated to either of those series—a point in this anthology’s favor, in my opinion—and therefore can be enjoyed on their own. It would be more accurate to think of these as fairy tale retellings, each self-contained and often involving their own message and lessons. Personally, I find this format more appealing, as I tend not to get as much out of “side stories” that are tied to (and hence feel “tacked on” to) existing characters and events from a main series.
Filled with dark undertones, many of these stories also call back to familiar classic fairy tales—but with a twist. An in-depth analysis and more of my thoughts on each story can be found below:
Ayama and the Thorn Wood
The king and queen of a small kingdom have two sons. The older one is handsome and well-loved, while the younger one was born monstrous and was hence locked away in a labyrinth beneath the castle soon after his birth. However, the beastly prince managed to escape, and is now terrorizing the village. Desperate, the king offers a large reward to anyone who can stop his monstrous son, and the call is answered by young girl named Ayama, whose family neglects her and treats her more like a servant than a daughter. With shades of Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, and even 1001 Nights, this opening tale is a good example of the kind of stories you’ll find in this collection—magical, subversive, and adheres closely to the classic fairy tale three-part structure. I was immediately transported to another place and another time, my head filled with evocative images of children sitting rapt and cross-legged by the fireside as they listened to their elders tell them stories. There’s a good takeaway from this one too, a reminder that even the most unassuming lives have value and volumes to them.
The Too-Clever Fox
Even from birth, Koja the fox was showing everyone why he was the cleverest animal in all the forest, convincing his mother not to devour him, the scrawniest and scraggliest runt of the litter. Using his quick wit and silver tongue, he somehow always manages to squirm his way out of certain death. However, one day a hunter arrives at the forest, ruthlessly picking off all the woodland animals. Undeterred, Koja decides to pit his wits against the human, confident that he can help end the slaughter. A cautionary tale against hubris, this story is another twist on a popular archetype often found in fairy tales, that of the quintessential trickster. Koja, however, will find that plot twists are none too kind to clever foxes.
The Witch of Duva
The protagonist of this story is a woodcutter’s daughter named Nadya who comes from an area where young girls from the surrounding villages frequently go missing. When her mother dies, her father is quick to remarry Karina, a spiteful woman whom Nadya secretly suspects might be a witch. This one might be the darkest tale in the collection, which possibly explains why I liked it so much. Again, there are plenty of subversions and twists, and some truly disturbing themes and imagery found here too, even if they are portrayed rather subtly.
Little Knife
This is another story that follows the traditional structure of a classic fairy tale, featuring a greedy duke whose daughter Yeva is so beautiful that the very sight of her instantly causes one to become smitten. When it became time for Yeva to be married, her father decides to hold a competition so that the best man may win her hand. This is a good story for anyone who has ever wondered at the illogical choices made by the typical fairy tale princess character, or why they have to put up with all the crap. The ending to this one is Leigh Bardugo’s brilliant answer to those questions, and it’s just priceless.
The Soldier Prince
The Nutcracker gets a nice retelling in this story, but with elements from the Grishaverse to spice things up. Thematically, it reminded me very much of science fiction narratives about artificial intelligence, with messages about moral and philosophical issues that make us question what makes us human or gives us free choice. Bardugo does not manage to go quite as deep as that, however, though not for the lack of trying. Quite honestly, I felt this one of the more lackluster tales, at least when compared to the stronger offerings that came before.
When Water Sang Fire
Fans of The Little Mermaid will probably enjoy this one, since it draws heavily from that story and offers a different perspective on its villain. It follows a sildroher named Ulla, an outcast among her people on account of rumors that she is half human. Still, she is a talented singer, and together with her friend Signy, the two girls can give rise to wondrous creations through the mere power of their voices. Out of all the stories, When Water Sang Fire is probably the most complex (and it might also be the longest), which is ironic because it did little for me intellectually or emotionally. Personally, I preferred the earlier stories in this collection which held all the charm and magic of traditional fairy tales, whereas this one struck me as rather contrived and a little too “fanservice”. A shame that it ended up being one of my least favorite stories, for I would have preferred ending this otherwise excellent anthology on a higher note.
Still, as far as short story collections go, The Language of Thorns is very good one. I don’t often find myself recommending anthologies, but I will in this case, since I think this book would appeal to a wide range of readers, especially those who love fairy tale-inspired fiction and imaginative retellings. Perfect for both fans of the author’s Grishverse and newcomers alike.
Audiobook Comments: Having listened to all the books in the Grisha trilogy as well as the Six of Crows series in audio format, I am no stranger to the incredibly talented Lauren Fortgang. She’s capable of doing a huge range of voices and accents, and listening to her narrate this book genuinely felt like I was listening to a master storyteller tell creepy fairy tales around a campfire. I would definitely recommend The Language of Thorns in audio, with the only caveat being that actual book contains some art and illustrations, so I would opt for the print edition if you don’t want to miss out on those....more
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