Month: January 2021

A VOW SO BOLD AND DEADLY Review: Cursebreak and Heartbreak and a Smashing Finale

“Had I known you were my brother,” he says, his voice rough and trembling, “I would have forced you to leave on the very first day of her curse.”

I shake my head. “Had I known you were my brother, I would have stayed by your side just the same.”

Brigid Kemmerer, A VOW SO BOLD AND DEADLY

Is there any feeling so simultaneously filled with excitement and despair as beginning the final book in a series that you really love? Finally, you get to learn how the story ends! But that means the story is ending. After you finish, that’s it. No more new adventures with these characters. (At least in theory. In these days of blockbuster publishing, who knows.)

I love the Cursebreaker series. I flew through A Curse so Dark and Lonely in a single sitting. For a story whose basic bones have been told a gazillion times, I thought it was fresh and intricate and convincing and just fun. (Apparently YA Beauty and the Beast retellings are thing that I gravitate toward? Didn’t plan it that way, but what can you do.) I loved these characters and I wanted them to succeed. ALL of them. Which Kemmerer deliberately sets up as a problem.

The world of Emberfall and Syl Shallow is a world in which four potential rulers wish for peace, but the world itself might not be set up for peace. Kinda like our world. How can they navigate political rifts and potentially permanent rifts with one another? Can Kemmerer stick the landing after spending her entire second novel complicating the heroes from her first?

THE STORY SO FAR

[FROM HERE THERE BE SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE SERIES. OBVIOUSLY.]

A Curse so Dark and Lonely sets out a particularly bleak Beauty and the Beast remix premise: the enchantress whom spoiled Prince Rhen refused was straight-up deranged and evil, and cursed him to become a deadly monster every few months that would wage terror upon his family and his people. In the interim months, or “season,” his one Royal guard left alive after the first few monster attacks will travel through a portal to a parallel realm to fetch a girl for the prince to woo. If the girl can fall in love with Rhen even after finding out that he’s the monster, then the curse is broken. If not, then monster Rhen probably kills some more people before the curse resets, at which point Rhen and his guard, Grey, return to exactly how they were at the beginning yet the dead remain dead (including Rhen’s entire family). For some reason, the magic portal opens into Washington, D.C. At the start of the novel, Grey accidentally brings back Harper, one of my favorite YA fantasy heroines in quite some time. Harper doesn’t take kindly to learning that she’s trapped in a fantasy kingdom called Emberfall, where the populace is struggling under threat of invasion from a neighboring kingdom called Syl Shallow. From here, it’s Beauty and the Beast, so you can guess how the story goes. But just take my word for it that it goes there very enjoyably, alternating POV between Harper and Rhen — except for a crucial final chapter from the POV of Grey.

A Heart so Fierce and Broken seems to spend most of its time undercutting Harper and Rhen, whom we grew to love in the first novel. We don’t get to spend much time with them, instead alternating POV between Grey and Lia Mara, elder daughter of the vicious queen of Syl Shallow. (While Lia Mara turns out to be an excellent heroine on her own and a worthwhile Harper stand-in, I found Grey a little wooden in this novel. He had more life in the first novel as a foil for Harper or Rhen. But perhaps that was the point–he’s still figuring out who he is away from them.) Turns out Grey is the real heir to the throne of Emberfall, the dead King’s first son with a different enchantress. That means Grey can also wield magic. Both of these facts combined absolutely terrify Rhen, who received the worst of the torture from the enchantress Lillith during Emberfall’s curse. Rhen’s PTSD inspires him to act violently toward his former guard and companion, and Grey becomes a fugitive and ally for Lia Mara, seeking asylum in Syl Shallow. Lia Mara, who wishes for her country to seek peace with Emberfall rather than invading, becomes queen of Syl Shallow by the novel’s end. In a final chapter from Rhen’s POV, we learn that Lillith survived Grey’s supposed death blow at the end of the first novel, and Rhen makes another deal with her: he will fight against Grey to keep his throne, if she will promise not to harm Harper.

THE STORY OF A VOW SO BOLD AND DEADLY

After two novels focusing on our two separate pairs of lovers, it’s time to mix them all together! Vow alternates between Team Emberfall and Team Syl Shallow, focusing on Harper and Rhen POV chapters for a little while before switching over to Grey and Lia Mara, and back again and back again. Neither kingdom is inclined to trust its current ruler: Lia Mara’s subjects don’t believe she’s bloodthirsty enough to rule effectively, and they fear Grey’s magic, while Rhen’s people protest that he isn’t the rightful heir. Moreover, while Grey and Lia Mara seem to have a functioning partnership, Harper’s partnership with Rhen is crumbling. She’s having trouble forgiving him for the way that he tortured Grey in the last novel, and he’s having trouble forgiving himself. Also, Lillith is back to emotionally, mentally, and physically abuse Rhen when no one’s watching. Harper and Rhen finally mend their relationship when Rhen confides in her about his new deal with Lillith, and Rhen agrees to seek peace. Only by then it’s too late: an enraged Lillith brutalizes Rhen and all in the castle, and Harper barely escapes with her life to Syl Shallow, where she begs for Grey’s help. Grey, Lia Mara, and their team do ultimately join in the fight to destroy Lillith…and because I don’t want to spoil everything for you, I’m not going to detail how, but let’s just say I cried. In the end, Rhen agrees to yield the throne to Grey and acts as his advisor.

THE BABBLE

Okie dokie. So. I love these characters, and with the exception of one quibble* (see below) I feel as though this final volume does right by them. Grey comes into his own not only as a leader but as a fleshed-out character in this book. I loved seeing the payoff of the hints that Kemmerer has laid for us all along that while we thought this was a fantasy-romance series about princes and plucky YA heroines–and it was that, sometimes–it was really a story about bromance through shared trauma, and how everyone processes trauma differently, and how blood family and found family can sometimes feel the same because they are literally the same. My gods, gentle reader, when I got to the end and Rhen was a monster again and Kemmerer gave us such a delicious twist on the now-tired Frozen trope and Grey went all “Come back to yourself, brother” I was SCREAMING and WEEPING…ahem. I loved that these two young men spend two whole novels claiming that they aren’t friends when they clearly are, and they clearly care for each other very much. Because of course they do. The glimpses Kemmerer gives us of what they suffered together are horrific. They are Samwise and Frodo and I love them.

In some ways, I found that connection a slight weakness as well as a strength, because so much of the characterization for both Rhen and Grey revolves around each character’s relation to the other. What does one think about the other at any given time, and vice versa? How is he reacting to the other’s actions? Harper and Lia Mara, by contrast, feel like much more fully-rounded characters on their own, Harper in particular. And that’s fine with me! If we’re talking about literature geared toward young people and we have to choose, then by all means, let’s please make sure the female characters are more developed than the male ones after many centuries of, you know, that not happening.

Here’s where we get to my small quibble, though: I thought the PTSD focus and narrative structure wound up being a little unfair to Rhen. I like Rhen and I think he’s the most intriguing character in the series. But after three books, I still feel like there’s a gaping hole where his PTSD experience should be. His trauma response becomes such a plot point in Book 2, when his fear of magic drives him to whip Grey nearly to death, and I think we are supposed to feel sympathetic toward Rhen while also feeling sympathetic toward Grey. But every character gets to talk and have opinions about Rhen’s trauma-inspired response to magic, it seems, except for Rhen himself. I get what the books are doing with structure — Kemmerer can’t suddenly shift into Rhen’s POV in book 2, because that book’s dedicated to Grey and Lia Mara — so I don’t have a good solution to this issue, but still. By the time we’re allowed back into Rhen’s head in book 3, he’s mostly back to worrying about holding his kingdom together, worrying about his relationship with Harper, or, near the novel’s climax, just completely and heartbreakingly broken. I felt like we missed an important step.

Like I said, it’s a quibble that doesn’t take away from my enthusiasm for the series as a whole. I can’t wait to sell this novel and this entire series. I loved it! Now come the days of the king. May they be blessed.

RATING

* * * 1/2

RANDOM BABBLE

  • Okay, I know this is supposed to be about Book 3, not Book 1, and I know there’s room for infinite fandoms in the YA fantasy world so no competition necessary, but having read and written about A Court of Thorns and Roses so recently I couldn’t stop comparing these two Beauty and the Beast adaptations and reflecting on how much better I like A Curse so Dark and Lonely. (And before you all come at me: YES I HAVE KEPT GOING IN THE MAAS SERIES, YES YOU WERE RIGHT IT DOES GET BETTER, YES I CALLED IT WHEN I SAID RHYSAND WAS THE OBVIOUS LOVE INTEREST SETUP, YES I AM ALSO EAGERLY AWAITING A COURT OF SLIVER FLAME.) I thought Kemmerer’s work was tighter, the curse itself made WAY more sense, Lillith’s motivations only sorta made sense and they STILL made more sense than Amarantha’s, and this take on the curse narrowed the focus to only two immediate characters (Rhen and Grey) for us to know and care about while upping the stakes to including an entire kingdom of innocent people. Also, the Beast can be useful! Genius.
  • Also, no beast sex. A plus.
  • But still…just as I was thinking maybe I could re-shelve these in my “younger YA” section, I get to Vow and…sexy times. Had to happen eventually. Preferred these to Maas scenes as well, but that’s just me. Though I couldn’t help it, y’all, I did gigglesnort when the consummation for the second teenage pair mirrored the first by also involving the girl murmuring the guy’s name twice.
  • Also about Curse: lots of places where Harper calls Rhen arrogant. I look forward to going back for many re-reads, but…his behavior never seemed all that arrogant to me? Are we to interpret that as Harper’s unwillingness to trust anyone? Did Kemmerer just throw that in there because it’s required terminology for a YA love interest? Or have my standards for arrogance just been skewed by other YA love interests who truly are insufferable twerps? (See: Cardan. Whom I adore.) Discuss.
  • Didn’t mention Jake or Noah above, but they are a delight. Jake giving Grey a hard time after he emerges from Lia Mara’s bedroom was the absolute best thing. I enjoy these books’ approach to representation: Harper has a disability that doesn’t define her, Jake and Noah are gay and it doesn’t define them. People are who they are.
  • I like the unresolved story with Nakiis, and the implication that the trauma Lillith inflicts can cross species.
  • Okay, one more quibble, this one’s tiny and it’s about Lillith: it would have been nice to get a teeeeny bit more explanation about why Lillith could be hurt sometimes, by some people and creatures, in some places, and why not in/by others. But hey, who am I kidding, I’m a Doctor Who fan. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey, I’ll just accept it and move on.

A New, Beautifully Understated Holiday Fable: A WILD WINTER SWAN

Why does the most obvious thing, the only thing that doesn’t need to be said, hurt so much when it is actually said out loud?

Gregory Maguire, A WILD WINTER SWAN

Hey look, a blog! What is this strange, magical contraption for writing one’s thoughts about books and other topics in long form?

Happy New Year, everyone. After taking a few months away from Bookshelves & Babble to juggle Mom’s passing with finishing up fall semester of grad school, I’m hoping to start writing book reviews here again instead of just lazily posting a few sentences over on Instagram. (Aiming for only once or twice month, though. Because, you know, grad school.)

Before we get too far away from Christmas/New Year’s Eve/Solstice/Winter holidays, I definitely want to share this book with y’all, because I haven’t talked to too many people who’ve read it yet and that’s a shame.

Look, Gregory Maguire has written approximately 5,000 books. Some of them get loosely adapted into juggernaut musicals. He’s got a thing going. You may have read all of them, you may have read none of them, you may have read one and then decided Gregory Maguire’s not your thing. Before picking up A Wild Winter Swan I’d read…two, I think? His novel Wicked completely captivated me the first time I read it, and I’ve read it more than once. I borrowed the first sequel from the library, and wasn’t as big a fan of that one. (How have I never even read Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister? I’m just now realizing that I haven’t.)

Okay, yes, this song is great. But other than that I kinda hate the way the musical waters down, and happy-ends, the novel.

But I kept walking by this new novel in the store and it kept calling to me. For one thing, the book itself is gorgeous – the under-jacket case illustrations by Scott McKowen are spectacular. I finally caved and bought it on a whim, and I’m glad I did.

THE STORY

Loosely inspired by one small detail in Hans Christian Anderson’s tale The Wild Swans — in Anderson’s tale, one of the brothers-turned-swans is never completely turned back into a human, and is left with one arm as a swan wing — A Wild Winter Swan takes place in mid-twentieth century New York City. Cleverly, and perhaps because The Wild Swans might not be as universally known as some other Anderson tales, Maguire has his heroine, Laura, tell the tale to the children she babysits in an early chapter. Not only does this trick familiarize the reader with the source material, but it also keeps the story in Laura’s mind as well, an important fact later on.

Laura has come to live with her Italian immigrant grandparents after a series of family tragedies (i.e., first her father’s and now her brother’s untimely deaths) has led to her mother’s mental breakdown. She lives on the top floor of their crumbling three-story townhome in New York City. (Ah, the 1960s, when such a thing was still possible to acquire!) Due to a mishap at her private school, where she’s never felt particularly at home anyway, Laura has been expelled. Her grandmother Nonna has told Laura that she will not be welcomed back to school, or any other school in NYC, and the only other option is a boarding school in Canada. Nonna and grandfather Nonno are struggling to save Nonno’s floundering business in order to pay for Laura’s tuition – and to do that, they’ll need to secure and investment from Nonna’s sister’s new boyfriend, the wealthy Corm Kennedy. The whole deal, because of course, hinges on an important dinner at their home on Christmas Eve, which Corm Kennedy will attend.

Unfortunately for Nonna and Nonno, around this time a nearly-mute teenage boy with a swan wing where one arm should be crash lands into Laura’s upper-story window. She manages to get a name out of him — Hans — and gradually realizes that he must be a character from her favorite Hans Christian Anderson story, impossible or no. He doesn’t become a friend, but he does become company, while also chastely helping her to discover the first stirrings of her own sexuality.

As she sets about trying to return him to his own family and keep him from ruining her grandparent’s important dinner, she becomes reluctant allies and then possible friends with Maxine, the girl whose broken nose got her expelled. But when Hans’ animal instincts destroy her family’s big night, she realizes the only option is to set him free as quickly as possible.

THE BABBLE

[FROM HERE THERE BE BIG SPOILERS. YE HAVE BEEN WARNED.]

Maguire’s tone throughout feels somewhat distant — almost chilly, you might say, appropriate for a winter tale — and I liked that. It echoed the feel of reading Hans Christian Anderson or another older folk tale. The narration stays close to Laura’s thoughts, though, and that’s an important detail. Toward the end of the novel, I think (and this is just me, you may have a completely different reading) that the reader is suddenly supposed to question Laura’s sanity.

How reliable is Laura as a protagonist? No one else has seen Hans, and the damage he’s created could easily have be created by Laura herself. We know that her mother suffers from mental illness. Has Laura had a similar outburst of illness triggered by the knowledge that she will soon have to leave for Canada? Are we in a warped, fairy-tale Fight Club situation here? Laura’s heartbreaking conversation with Nonno on Christmas Eve punches holes in the entire story we’ve read up to that point, despite the gorgeously written Central Park escape scene between Hans and Laura that follows. And I do mean gorgeous…though I admit to being a sucker for any scene involving the Bethesda Fountain.

And Hans. He’s a cipher. Some might have an issue with that, but I loved it. Maguire never lets you forget that Hans is as much a foreign creature(bird) as a human teenager. He rages against his confinement, against huger, against basically everything. (You know, like a teenager. And an animal.) Anyone who finds a swan a strange fit for such behavior has obviously never met a swan in real life. But Hans also quiets into moments of temporary peace with Laura. The scene where she sleeps curled beside him is moving — two lost teenagers, both refusing to completely trust the only people left who want to take care of them.

I also loved the way that the setting of 1960s New York allowed Maguire to examine the class system in the US. While I fully acknowledge that I’m far from an expert on this topic, I thought that the relationship between cook Mary Bernice and her employers subtly illustrated just how fluid the notion of “whiteness” has always been in America, and how much the goalpost has shifted in even in the past 60 to 70 years. We, as a society, tend to forget how fluid it really is. Reading a book in which Italian immigrants like Nonna and Nonno are taking accent-reduction classes in order to pass for “white,” so they can impress upper-class characters like Corm Kennedy, in contrast to Irish immigrant Mary Bernice, who seems more comfortable in her own skin, serves as an effective and crucial reminder about such things.

More holiday-themed novels for every reading age begin popping up on shelves around November and December every year, most of them involving elves or prepubescent Santa or magic trains or romcom characters. And that’s lovely. But if you’re one of the many, many people for whom the holidays aren’t all merry and bright, or if you’re just looking for a different sort of winter tale with a few Christmas trappings but zero Christmas cheese, I highly recommend this quick and unusual read.

RATING

* * * *

RANDOM BABBLE

  • In the dedications and the leading quotes, Maguire strongly suggests that Mary Poppins author P.L. Travers not only gave him the idea for this novel, but specifically tasked him to write it. If that’s true then I love it so much.
  • I love all of the imagery Maguire uses to reflect Laura’s imperfect attempts at independence: the baby owl from the novel who’s not quite ready to fly away, the homemade wing, restless pacing at the top floor of the house…it’s all the obvious images one would use, but it all smacks of failure to launch as well.
  • I also appreciated the slow burn of Laura’s frenemy relationship with Maxine. Maxine comes over to apologize, Laura doesn’t accept her apology – fine. She doesn’t have to accept it. Then Maxine wants to bond because she got something she wanted out of the accident, and maybe that allows Laura to accept the olive branch? By the end of the novel it’s still a little unclear how Laura feels about finally having a real friend, and that might be okay. Girl’s got some serious trauma.
  • Speaking of trauma. Loved how delicately the scene with her searching through her brother’s old clothes to find Hans something to wear was handled.
  • Okay, so. I’m not Italian American, so I’m not the best judge. But Maguire walks a fine line with Nonna and Nonno, and I think he succeeds? Their struggles with language are comedic at times, but I think they always remain 100% sympathetic. These poor grandparents are doing the best they can to raise a difficult teenager. They clearly love her. They have real concerns. To my eyes, at least, they never fell into lazy stereotype, but I’d love to hear from another reader in a better position to judge.