Parenthetical

Magic is most interesting when it works like a physical weapon: the character is given it (or learns she has it), and has to learn how to use it. It behaves according to rules, and she has to learn those rules in order to use it effectively. In a historical novel, you never see a character pick up a sword for the first time and “just know” exactly how to best the powerful enemy. So why does this happen so often with fantasy magic?

Nieve started promisingly. I quite liked Nieve herself — she spends a free afternoon starting her own newspaper, to see if she has an aptitude for journalism. She buys a stylish lime green shirt, not because “she overvalued trendy clothes and name-brand runners and all that, but [because] the odd cool item was useful, even necessary. She could hold her head up in school and not be marked for ridicule….” This shows admirable practicality and social awareness for a young heroine.

But then her town starts to fall into a gothtastic pit of spiderwebs and creepy carnivorous plants and gaunt apothecaries with eyeball candy. (Alexander Griggs-Burr’s illustrations are fantastic, definitely the best part of the book.) Her vaguely magical “Old World” Gran assigns her a mysterious sidekick, Lias, and sends her off to save the world.

Unfortunately, it’s unclear from whom the world needs saving. Or why Nieve is the one to do it. Or what Lias and Gran have to do with anything, or what’s going on with all the other characters who pop in at just the right times to move the plot along. Lias has a lot of these answers from the beginning, but of course he can’t share them with Nieve (and us) along the way; that would be too easy. It’s much more fun to read a couple of chapters of Murder, She Wrote-style wrap-up at the end.

And, most frustratingly, the magic has no logic and no rules. Sometimes Nieve “just knows” what she’s supposed to do. Sometimes another character tells her (though it’s not always clear how they know.) Rarely do we see her work anything out for herself, even though she’s clearly no intellectual slouch. She never learns to use her sword; she just happens to be inherently gifted with sword-wielding.

Coming to a library or independent bookstore near you in April.

(Full disclosure: I really wanted to love this, because it was the first review copy sent to me by a publisher specifically in order to get my opinion. I appreciate the vote of confidence, Biblioasis; I wish I had better things to say about the book.)