{Put This One on Your TBR List} Book Review: Three Black Lantern Publishing Novels by Caitlin Starling by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Book Review:

Three Black Lantern Publishing Novels by Caitlin Starling

by Karen S. Wiesner

 

Beware spoilers!

 

In the past, I've reviewed several other offerings from Caitlin Starling on this blog. Do a search of her name to find them, if you're interested. My reviews of this author's work tend to run the gamut in terms of whether I enjoy the material or not. This particular review of three separate books highlights the same situation.

 

Starling's last big release was The Graceview Patient in late 2025, so I went looking for anything new from her. I discovered she has a brand new horror coming out from St. Martin's Press in October 2026 called Milkteeth about a vampire broodmother, which should be interesting. This upcoming book is touted on the author's website, as well as the publisher's, and it's already available for preorder in multiple formats on distributor websites. In the process of discovering this welcome news, I stumbled upon several "new" books with Starling's name on them that are all published by Black Lantern Publishing instead of the big publisher(s) most of her other publicized books are released by.

 

I spent far too much time trying to find out more about Black Lantern Publishing (not to be confused with Black Lantern Books, which is a completely different thing) and Starling's association with them. All I could dig up was that Black Lantern Publishing is/was(?) an online art and literary journal which publishes macabre offerings--a perfect fit for Starling. In any case, they're listed as the publisher for three Starling books I came upon that I'd never heard of before and that are only published as ebooks (that I've been able to ascertain anyway) and not reliably available. For instance, one of them isn't for sale at all from Amazon, for a reason I couldn't locate. I guess the background behind these three books will remain a mystery because the author hasn't put any of them on her personal website (as of this writing in June 2026). Maybe they're old books that her current, big publisher has allowed to be published or reissued by a small press as long as she doesn't put or promote them with her other sanctioned work released by them. I don't know. But it's frustrating not to be able to find more about the origin of these particular stories. Anyway, given that, in general, I'm a fan of this author, I bought all three at once.

 

 

The first one I read, Beneath Winter Lake, was purchased from Apple Media Services. In this horror novel released December 2025, a climatologist is studying Winter Lake in Hawthorn's Rest when the lake suddenly freezes solid and the settlement that drowned more than a century ago rises to the surface. The dead from the village start taking the current townsfolk that share its ancestry. Apparently, this situation reoccurs every 40 years.

 

There was nothing particularly wrong with this book--technically it was decently written yet somehow everything about it felt generic to me. Nothing resonated with me, not characters, plot, nor setting. I also didn't find it scary.

 

 

The second, The Deadlight Motel, is an "eldritch horror" novel and was also published in December 2025 by Black Lantern Publishing. I got it from Amazon as a Kindle ebook (I don't think print or audio editions are available for it). In this (again, not at all frightening) story, a motel that's treated almost like it's human appears only to those who hide guilty secrets and it feeds on them.

 

I had the same problem with this story as the first. I call these "eh" books--not badly written but essentially generic. As with Beneath Winter Lake, my emotional involvement in the story never really kicked in.

 

Both Beneath Winter Lake and The Deadlight Motel did have what could be considered a mutual saving grace (that didn't actually make them easier to read for me, but hey) that is a Caitlin Starling trademark: Both stories were told with a unique twist. However, the problem for me is that every story I read by this author has a unique twist, and I went into reading both of these expecting that right from the beginning so, in truth, I guessed what each twist would be almost exactly from the very first chapters. Readers who haven't read Starling's work before probably wouldn't have guessed the endings right from the start so there's a potential for more enjoyment than I experienced with either of them.

 

 

The third, The Uncrowned, was a political fantasy novel and was published in April 2026 by Black Lantern Publishing. I got it from Amazon as a Kindle ebook (again, I couldn't find a print or audio edition anywhere). This story had an intriguing premise: On the day of his coronation, the crown prince refuses the throne because he's discovered that, within the empire, an entire group of people and their way of life have essentially been erased from history. He intends to right that wrong. But he quickly learns that there's much, much more that he doesn't know and the betrayal and deception go deeper than he originally believed--and when the truth resurfaces, the empire will never again be the same.

 

I was anticipating the worst, based on my previous two experiences. However, I was gratefully rewarded with the promise of intrigue and the seeds of compelling settings, plot, and characters that could have been a little better drawn. For instance, instead of three-dimensional, Prince Aldric Vane and his aunt were both two-dimensional and, weirdly, in exactly the same way. (I think anyone who reads this story will understand what I mean by that, since the two characters are like gender-opposite reflections of each other.) The secondary characters were, at best, one-dimensional.

 

As for setting and plot, both were oddly two-dimensional in that readers were given the starkest bare bones of the land the tale is set in, and the conflict that prompted the story had no more and no less than what was required to convey the story. At no point were readers allowed to discover what incited the empire's actions in essentially wiping out the Telvari community the way it did. The characters themselves didn't show the slightest curiosity about that either, which struck me as wrong and unrealistic. It seemed as if they accepted the situation, like it was a done deal, yet here they were single-mindedly involved in a legal battle to correct something that couldn't really ever be made right. Readers were never given the reasons behind all this, nor were the characters' motivations adequately portrayed. They had a goal and those actions took the place of their feelings entirely. Again, this gave them a flat quality that could have instead been heart-rending if only they'd been developed to the fullest.

 

My biggest problem with the story was that the author wrote it so leanly that every aspect became ravenous for fleshing out. Why would Starling do it this way? I can't fathom. Every single path was a thin, straight line with just a little detail pointing behind to the past, scant focus ahead to consequences, and the present story hogging the whole of the focus. As a result, countless opportunities for richness and depth were squandered. As a reader, I would have given anything for more information and to have gotten the entire tale developed three-dimensionally. It might have been a saga that couldn't be put down. It might have spanned ages in a world so vibrant, readers could see, taste, and smell it all as if they were really there. The plots might have carried much more weight and complexity that would have given them the gravitas they deserved. Fully-fleshed out characters could easily have vied for wider attention from the audience, allowing readers to truly root for them and share every tear shed and every bit of joy in comingled triumph. All of these elements hung there, strangled, just waiting for the breath of life to fulfill them. Instead, we got razor-sharp, cardboard quality. I longed for so much more. Yet the author could still expand into sequels in so many different directions--if she and her publisher were willing.

 

As is, The Uncrowned is compelling, but I'm ultimately saddened by the loss of something that was so close to moving and capturing me wholly. That said, the ending was nevertheless satisfying for me (despite that I wanted loads more) and I enjoyed the unusual take. It was almost like an early John Grisham novel, only in a fantasy world setting. Every aspect of this story was written as if it was a lawyerly account, with all the behind-the-scenes and courtroom drama you could ever want. In other words, it was cold-blooded and logical, with no room for human frailty or fragility. That worked well here, even given the wasted opportunities for growth beyond the immediate scenario. Maybe some readers would have been put off by that, but I found the moral of the story was told perfectly from that unique, distanced perspective. I also think it was brilliant of the author to remove almost completely the "real life" that you and I know from the setting so the account could be less about comparing it to our world events and history and instead about seeing it on its own, with all the texture, ramifications and consequences that the subject material demanded. I would actually love to revisit these characters and the world they're set in, but I suspect that's not an option--directly due to the "mystery" I mentioned in the third paragraph of this review.

 

You might want to give the first two books reviewed here a pass unless you're new to the author. Honestly, though, all of them were $3, so under $10 for three ebooks is worthwhile. The Uncrowned was a steal at that price, lack of true depth notwithstanding. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of 156 titles and 16 series. 

Visit Karen here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

Oldies But Goodies {Put This One on Your TBR List} Book Review: Guignol & Other Sardonic Tales by Orrin Grey by Karen S. Wiesner

 

Oldies But Goodies

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

Book Review: Guignol & Other Sardonic Tales by Orrin Grey

by Karen S. Wiesner

  

Guignol & Other Sardonic Tales by Orrin Grey was published in 2018. This collection of 14 very weird stories is unlike almost anything I've ever read before. By the way, Guignol is a French hand puppet. In fiction, the word has come to be associated with a sensational, gruesome tale. 

It would be difficult to describe this anthology of stories individually because they're so short and strange, so, although I liked more than a few of them (very odd for me when it comes to a short story collection!), I can't really go in-depth about any one of them without giving away too much. 

In the general sense, these tales are all what I would consider very small vignettes. What you'll get is a slice of a life: Nothing came before that isn't told rather than shown, and, in some cases, there's little by way of follow-up or indication where it might go from there. It is nothing more, nothing less than what you see in the here and now--that's all you get. For that reason, there is very little depth to them. You'll never get to know the characters, settings, or situations any more than what's included in these few words. It's like you get a glimpse of something and then you're thrust out; you walk away because there's nothing else you can do. Whether a memory of what you've witnessed lingers on after that point is moot. I suspect the author would enjoy at least part of that description of his work very much. Honestly, none of this is an insult. It's more of a heads up of what to expect and an invitation, no RSVP necessary. You really do have to experience this set of stories yourself to get the full impact.

Contained within Guignol & Other Sardonic Tales were more than a few stories that harkened back to H. P. Lovecraft (complete with the tell-you-the-outcome-before-the-event format). I loved the Choose Your Own Adventure offering "A Circle That Ever Returnth In". "Haruspicate or Scry" was another standout. In that particular account, there's a hilarious reference to college students picking apart a story by a professor, praising his imagery and drawing parallels, to which the teacher responds (like he's impatiently embarrassed by the attention), "I was just writing about a damn pear." I've said similar things myself dozens of times while debating allegory in fiction with those who seem to enjoy reading into everything--just never with Orrin's simple but evocative hilarity.

If you like horror, fantasy, and the strange in your stories, this anthology is definitely one to gobble up in a single sitting. The author has several other fiction collections to choose from as well, so you don't have to stop at just one. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of 156 titles and 16 series. 

Visit Karen here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Book Review The Book of Swords Edited by Gardner Dozois by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Book Review

The Book of Swords Edited by Gardner Dozois

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Be aware of unintended spoilers! 

The Book of Swords was published in October 2017. Edited by Gardner Dozois, this particular collection includes stories that fall into the fantasy subgenre of "sword and sorcery". Below is a chronological listing of the stories that are featured in it:

1)          "The Best Man Wins" by K.J. Parker

2)          "Her Father's Sword" by Robin Hobb

3)          "The Hidden Girl" by Ken Liu

4)          "The Sword of Destiny" by Matthew Hughes

5)          "'I Am a Handsome Man,' said the Crow" by Kate Elliott

6)          "The Triumph of Virtue" by Walter Jon Williams

7)          "The Mocking Tower" by Daniel Abraham

8)          "Hrunting" by C. J. Cherryh

9)          "A Long, Cold Trail" by Garth Nix

10)        "When I was a Highway Man" by Ellen Kushner

11)        "The Smoke of Gold is Glory" by Scott Lynch

12)        "The Colgrid Conundrum" by Rich Larson

13)        "The King's Evil" by Elizabeth Bear

14)        "Waterfalling" by Lavie Tidhar

15)        "The Sword Tyraste" by Cecelia Holland

16)        "The Sons of the Dragon" by George R.R. Martin

Before I get into this anthology, I'll quickly summarize how I handle these types of mixed-bag story caches in my reviews: I don't usually review all the books include--only the ones that I actually enjoyed enough to cover here, though I do make exceptions about reviewing stories I don't like. I'll explain any anomalies within the individual reviews. The logic for why I haven't included a particular story isn't usually because it wasn't well-written. Most of these anthologies include some of the biggest names in the industry. For whatever reason, I don't always connect with certain selections or they simply don't resonate with me. I freely admit sometimes I'm just not in the mood for what one author has to offer. Rather than bad-mouth what's probably a perfectly good story, I find it easier to not include it in my line-up of reviews. Readers will have to look elsewhere for a summary or review for any story that's missing. Also, at the end of my reviews, I like to include the order I believe the stories I'm reviewing should have been placed within the collection, as I believe the placement of stories within an anthology is absolutely crucial to its overall success. There has to be a good balance and interspersion of strong stories at the front, back, and middle in order to "couch" weaker ones. Too many bad stories in a row may cause readers to abandon the collection altogether. Search "anthology" or "collection" on this blog to read my previous reviews of mixed-bag story caches like this one. 

"The Best Man Wins" by K.J. Parker: This story is told from the point of view of the blacksmith who has a young man come to him asking him to make the best sword in the world, for which he'll pay handsomely--literally, every last bit of money he owns, he's willing to part with for this task to be completed. After the blacksmith makes it, the kid asks him to teach him how to use it, as he knows nothing of sword-fighting. The blacksmith is much more than he seems on the surface. I was sucked into this tale from the first sentence. The blacksmith was compelling, and his view of life and his personal history were doled out in the process of him grumbling while he worked. As he says, he doesn't enjoy the doing (which is grueling), only the "having-done", obsessive aspects of smithing. If I had to summarize this story in a few short sentences, I'd say this: "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." (The Princess Bride) For all intents and purposes, this sentence that’s actually featured in the story: "I'm going to use it [i.e., the best sword in the world that you create for me] to kill the man who murdered my father…" told the whole story. It was uttered on page 13 of the 27-page story. From that point on, I knew what was going to happen. And that is exactly what did happen. However, that didn't make the tale any less enjoyable. In fact, it was my favorite of the whole lot. I was utterly fascinated by the blacksmithing aspects of the tale, and the POV of the blacksmith was the perfect choice for delivering the story. 

"Her Father's Sword", A Realms of the Elderlings Story by Robin Hobb: This short story takes place during the early years of the Red Ship Wars and forging, with Fitz visiting the setting within the story as a secondary character (in all the novels he's in, his perspective is first person); set "somewhere in the middle" of Farseer and recommended to be read either before or after Book 2. Sadly, I was disappointed by this story, though initially excited as I've read every other Realm of the Elderlings offering currently available (and reviewed them on this blog). This last one set in a familiar world for me wasn't one I've read previously. In this tale, a village has been destroyed, their people kidnapped and "forged" (mentally destroyed and become something like ravenousness zombies) by the pirates on the Red Ships. When their demands go unmet, the Forged are returned. These lifeless though walking beings take whatever they need. Fitz comes to warn the survivors not to trust their own people when they come back to the village, as they're not what they once were and will harm and kill them without conscience. Young Taura, like everyone else in her small, ravished town, doesn't want to believe this could have happened. Her father is too strong to not have resisted, she believes. My problem with this tale was that I can't stand stories where the resolution is left unclear. What is the purpose of telling something that has a wishy-washy ending? I have no desire to finish writing someone else's story on my own, for one thing. For another, leaving your own story unfinished is a cop-out, cheating, and just plain shoddy writing. Very frustrating, especially considering the biggest reason I purchased the (albeit used) hardcover of this book was for this story specifically. However, in its favor, I'll add that seeing the story of the Forged from this opposite perspective than has ever been presented before in the series does elevate it considerably. In the past, we saw these poor, unfortunate victims of the pirates as little more than zombies that had to be put down in order all those "unforged" to survive. The Forged retain nothing of who or what they were before, and family members must beware of forgetting that truth in favor of compassion and abiding love. Here, a young daughter can't let go of the stalwart father, nor the life she once had--even though (no question about it) she'll soon regret it. 

"The Sword of Destiny" by Matthew Hughes: I don't want to spoil this rollicking bit of good fun by telling you too much. The basic premise is that a wizard hires Baldemar to steal a magical sword for him, the operation is bungled, and this reluctant henchman finds himself fleeing--only he ends up running into one trouble after the other in his attempt to escape the first. The world created here in this 29-page story is so big and well-drawn, I think you'll find, as I did, that you'll want many more stories to follow this one. A bit of research on my part revealed that, after writing "The Sword of Destiny" for The Book of Swords, Hughes went on to expand into a novel and ten shorter works focused on Baldemar's origins and his time spent as a wizard's henchman. The setting Baldemar comes from is called Dying Earth (credited to author Jack Vance). Hughes has standalone works and those associated with Baldemar and another popular character of Hughes', Raffalon, who also has his own set of stories. In the future, I look forward to reading much more about this amazing character and the world he comes from, though it might be a chore to find copies of the books, as they don't seem to be in wide circulation anymore. 

"The Mocking Tower" by Daniel Abraham: In this creatively told tale, a man learns that war is not an arrow but both a circle and a sundial while revenge is a double-edged sword that never makes a clean cut on either party. Those who follow after will also feel its influence. I'm a general fan of Abraham's, as he's half of the S. A. Corey pen name that wrote The Expanse series (my favorite sci-fi space opera), though I haven't reliably loved his solo work. This is an exception. Very elegantly done. 

"Hrunting" by C. J. Cherryh: I love the Beowulf legend, and I own many translations of it. So as soon as I heard that this story continued where Beowulf left off, revealing the aftermath of those who survived, I wanted to read it. I enjoyed the conjecture in this tale a lot. However, it was told in an awkward, choppy and stilted way that made it very hard at times to understand what was being conveyed. Despite that, I recommend it to all fans of this enduring, Old English poem. 

"The Sons of the Dragon", A Song of Ice and Fire World by George R.R. Martin: This is another excerpt from Martin's "fake history" of House Targaryen, the dynasty that ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros in the backstory of his A Song of Ice and Fire series. As such, it's not a story, per se, but it's absolutely not the dry old history textbook you'd read in school either. This selection was also published in Fire & Blood. The lives of Aegon I's sons--Aenys I and Maegor I--are detailed here, ending with Maegor's death and the ascension of Aenys's son Jaehaerys I Targaryen to the throne. All these histories are the basis for the HBO House of the Dragon TV series, and, honestly, if you want to have an easier time of keeping track of the gazillion characters, you might want to watch that. At least then you can put faces to the endless strings of names. Note that the novella included in this anthology is abridged. 

In terms of the order I believe this stories should have been presented in, I would have spaced my favorites out much more, so "The Best Man Wins" would stay at #1 and "The Sons of the Dragon" at #16; but "Her Father's Sword" would have been #3 instead; "The Sword of Destiny"#6, "The Sword of Destiny" #9, "The Mocking Tower #11; and "Hrunting" #14, with the rest of the books interspersed between them.

There's a lot for fans of fantasy and of the excellent writers to love with the 16 stories included in The Book of Swords. You may even find a new author to follow, as I have, to further broaden your fantasy reading horizons. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of 156 titles and 16 series. 

Visit Karen here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

 

Hemlock & Silver, by T. Kingfisher

This author never disappoints me, and I especially love her adaptations of fairy tales and classic literature. HEMLOCK & SILVER (sic) is based on “Snow White,” with elements of Alice’s trip through the looking glass. It involves a possibly evil queen, a poisoned princess, enchanted sleep (apparently, anyway), apples, creepy mirrors, portal fantasy, a doppelganger dimension, and a talking cat. The opening sentence is irresistible: “I had just taken poison when the king arrived to inform me that he had murdered his wife.” Narrator/protagonist Anja experiments on herself with carefully measured doses of poisons to study their attributes and discover antidotes. She also uses roosters as experimental subjects, since chicken breeders often have a surplus of them. And she keeps a snake, which she describes as more of a colleague than a pet, for the useful qualities of its venom. The king’s unheralded arrival in her solitary workshop throws her into confusion. After all, she isn’t nobility, only a prosperous merchant’s daughter. The monarch killed his queen when he caught her in the act of cutting out their daughter’s heart. Now his surviving daughter, twelve-year-old Snow, suffers from a mysterious chronic illness. Grief and depression? Some kind of food or drink sickening her? Or poison? Having heard of Anja’s expertise in the latter field, the king asks her to tackle the problem because she has no court entanglements.

A royal request, however affably presented, amounts to a command, so despite her trepidation Anja packs up, snake and rooster in tow, to travel to the palace. How will the king react if she fails to solve the case? Suppose Snow really is being poisoned and Anja becomes a target, if the culprit sees through her guise of being the princess’s new natural history tutor? Whom can she trust? It quickly becomes clear that Snow isn’t deliberately making herself sick, yet Anja believes she knows more than she’s admitting. The girl’s volatile adolescent moods complicate the investigation. Anja methodically sets up procedures for ruling out possible causes, employing the scientific method she excels at and enjoys. On the other hand, she finds attendance at court dinners an ordeal. Dealing with people has always been hard for her, especially since her typical conversation focuses on poisonous and venomous plants and animals along with other bizarre natural phenomena that fascinate her. According to the Healer who’d been her beloved mentor, most members of their profession regard cases as people with problems; Anja, although she’s sincerely driven to find cures, sees a case as a problem with a person inconveniently attached.

When she discovers the strange mirrors made of sand from the late queen’s native country, Anja is baffled. She doesn’t believe in magic. Therefore, she addresses the conundrum of the mirrors and the other world inside them with the same experimental rigor she applies to poisons. She gets help from one of the local bodyguards assigned to her as well as a one-eyed, talking cat who has no patience with answering tedious human questions. The solution to the mystery and the connection between the mirror realm and Snow’s illness will astonish most readers as thoroughly as it does Anja. Although still unwilling to believe in magic, she keeps an open mind. Between her lack of confidence outside the boundaries of her profession and her bodyguard’s taciturn manner, it takes her a while to begin to recognize their mutual attraction. Its gradual development from friendship to passion is charmingly awkward. The supercilious, enigmatic feline is also a constant delight. (According to the afterword, by the way, he’s based on the author’s own one-eyed cat.) As usual with Kingfisher’s first-person narrators, Anja is an entertaining character whose combined intelligence and vulnerability can’t fail to engage the reader’s sympathy. I'm especially taken with her because I suspect she's meant to be at least slightly neurodivergent.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

Fantasy as a Safe Space

Here's a WRITER'S DIGEST article in defense of fantasy literature:

A Safe Space for Readers

The author of the essay disagrees with the widespread assumption that fantasy exists "separate from the real world, far removed from the day-to-day experiences that real people encounter." Rather, she maintains "quite a lot of fantasy stories are constructed around real world issues" and use their "core components to build a safe space for readers to confront and process problems that they have to cope with in their day-to-day lives."

Two examples she offers are the Hero's Journey (relatable to struggles in our own lives) and the treatment of marginalized people and groups. She also suggests that fantasy, particularly the "cozy" subgenre, can give us a "break" from our personal stresses. In general, "Escaping into a fantasy story gives the reader a safe space to process their thoughts, their feelings, and their hopes and dreams."

While I largely agree with her observations about the value of fantasy, I do have one reservation. We could infer that she thinks its value lies mainly in its practical application to readers' lives. The importance of fantasy fiction for its own sake isn't discussed: It invites us to identify with and project ourselves into the minds and emotions of people and creatures radically unlike ourselves. As C. S. Lewis puts it in AN EXPERIMENT IN CRITICISM, we see through a thousand eyes, yet without losing our own identity.

I'm reminded of Tolkien's classic essay "On Fairy-Stories," in which he names the vital functions of fairy tales, and therefore fantasy in general, as Recovery, Escape, and Consolation. He defines Recovery as "regaining of a clear view." The ultimate Consolation consists of the phenomenon he labels "eucatastrophe," the sudden turn, when all seems lost, from despair to joy. As for Escape, he famously says this about the charge of "escapism" often made against fiction not solidly grounded in mundane "real life":

"In what the misusers are fond of calling Real Life, Escape is evidently as a rule very practical, and may even be heroic. In real life it is difficult to blame it, unless it fails; in criticism it would seem to be the worse the better it succeeds. Evidently we are faced by a misuse of words, and also by a confusion of thought. Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls? The world outside has not become less real because the prisoner cannot see it. In using escape in this way the critics have chosen the wrong word, and, what is more, they are confusing, not always by sincere error, the Escape of the Prisoner with the Flight of the Deserter."

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Review of Snake-Eater by T. Kingfisher by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

Review of Snake-Eater by T. Kingfisher

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Beware: May contain unintended spoilers! 

So on T. Kingfisher's website, she has a page that includes links to her short stories and articles, some of which are included in a variety of different anthologies (her own and others) and, from this page, you can read these offerings free. Two stories that I absolutely adored--"Jackalope Wives" and "The Tomato Thief" (oddly, written under her real name Ursula Vernon)--can be read from there at no charge. What a bargain! 

In both of these stories, Grandma Harken is the protagonist--a clever old woman who is far more than who and what she seems. She lives in a house with its back to the desert (strange things happen in the desert!), and she understands this harsh environment better than most. Her biting humor and compelling way of looking at the world make these tales irresistible. In both stories, there's a little bit of "magic" because, in the desert, there are spirits, not quite deities, but definitely not human either. I wanted more of this world, more of Grandma Harken, after I finished reading these two shorts. You can find my reviews for them by putting "T. Kingfisher" or the story titles into the search engine here on the Alien Romances blog. 

In Snake-Eater, we have Grandma Billy, who is, for all intents and purposes, Grandma Harken, only going by another name. I don't think Kingfisher intended that, but anyone who's read all these stories would probably agree with me. Full disclosure, I found myself deeply disappointed that the author didn’t have Grandma Harken reprise her role in Snake-Eater instead of creating the new, shockingly similar Grandma Billy. All three of these stories felt very connected to me--I read them within a few weeks of each other. I flat-out refuse to believe they weren't set in the same world, though possibly in a nearby region of it and not the exact same one. I would have loved to visit Grandma Harken again. While Grandma Billy was enjoyable, new quirks to Grandma Harken's already quirky personality could easily have fit the bill. The opportunity for connection was there, but it seemed like it was deliberately missed. As a reader, I yearn for links between an author’s stories--the more the better! In the same way, these three stories felt like they could have been connected, like the author was reaching toward an obvious tie, then, at the last minute, she yanked the thread that could have brought it all together harmoniously. A part of me felt set up by the author for disappointment because of this. I was left wishing the world Kingfisher created here could become a wider thing with many more stories to come. As I said, Snake-Eater basically has the same setting as the two Grandma Harken stories, here called Quartz Creek, with the addition of a few other characters, including a Catholic priest who (for once in modern fiction) turns out to be a pretty good guy. 

The author injected someone named Selena into Snake-Eater with a black lab dog named Copper. In my opinion, these characters are a regurgitation of Mouse and her coon dog Bongo from Kingfisher's 2019 horror The Twisted Ones. As I said in my review of that novel, Kingfisher is always Kingfisher, and I think all her main characters are essentially her. Whatever is the case, she defaults to a character type that she has reused over and over in her fiction almost from the beginning--whether those heroines are young, old, or somewhere in-between. The names and details have been swapped out, but, almost all across the board, T. Kingfisher is always the heroine in her own tales. That's not necessarily a bad thing. If you like her, you'll probably always like her. If you don't, well, then I guess that's the one drawback. Not every author can be skilled in every area, but T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon is a fantastic writer, despite that her characters tend to be static cookie-cutter types, and she only rarely disappoints me. 

In Snake-Eater, Selena's lost her mother, whom she wasn't all that close to anyway, and ran away from a relationship that was destroying her. With little more than twenty bucks in her pocket, she flees to the desert town Quartz Creek, where her Aunt Amelia lives and is always inviting her to visit. Only Amelia is gone. Her home, Jackrabbit Hole House, is still there with no one to claim it because those daring enough to inhabit the very small, struggling but close-knit town knew how to contact a next of kin. Long story short, Selena is welcomed to move in and make the house her own by the mayor/postmistress/fire chief/many other hats of the town. 

On her way to the place, Selena meets Grandma Billy, her eccentric, to say the least, neighbor. Strange things happen in the desert, and, even as Selena finds herself settling into a place that feels like home and people that feel like family, odd things begin to happen--like the appearance of fetches--supernatural apparitions which are bad omens. This all culminates in a few roadrunners (something that looks like a dinosaur instead of the cartoon character readers are familiar with) stalking Selene for a reason she can't understand. 

Grandma Billy and Father Aguirre have some theories that her aunt created the fetches herself. According to Grandma Billy, Amelia was prone to taking in drifters. One such stray she'd befriended (and might have be-lover-ed) was Snake-Eater, a not-human, not-deity thing Amelia had become close with. This one, Grandma Billy had never taken a shine to. If he's showing up again suddenly, it can't be good. So what does he want? And, if Selena and her new friends can make him go away, should she and Copper make Quartz Creek and Jackrabbit Hole House their home permanently? 

Snake-Eater was written in very typical Kingfisher style, and I enjoyed every minute of it, despite that it was a bit slow-moving and frequently felt like there was little or nothing actually happening (luckily, I like character studies just as much as I do action and adventure in a story). Again, as I did with the Grandma Harken stories, I want more of this world. I hope in the future that Kingfisher will own up to what could be construed as a rehash of her past characters and settings and make this a full-on series instead of random, repurposed bits that somehow cropped up in this standalone novel.

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

Snake-Eater

In anticipation of Karen's upcoming review of SNAKE-EATER, by T. Kingfisher, I'm posting mine now (in advance, because I have limited internet access this week and plan a different topic for next week).

In Kingfisher's afterword to SNAKE-EATER, she summarizes the “platonic ideal” of her horror fiction as “a woman and her dog alone in a house full of creepy family secrets,” which perfectly describes her first horror novel, THE TWISTED ONES. While her others don’t necessarily include dogs, the protagonists do tend to be women returning home in emotionally fraught circumstances, for a certain value of home. In the case of SNAKE-EATER, Selena flees with her black Lab, Copper, from her overbearing long-time lover, Walter -- who dominates and criticizes her only "for her own good," of course -- to her aunt’s home in the tiny town of Quartz Creek, an arid western milieu totally different from anything Selena has known. For decades her only contact with her aunt has come through occasional postcards. Still, a vague invitation to visit sometime makes Quartz Creek Selena’s only possible refuge. The shock of learning her aunt died the year before devastates her, but she can’t consider returning to Walter. He would indulgently take her back, and her abortive escape would become one more time “Selena Had Done Something Foolish and Walter Saved Her.” Selena plans to stay in her aunt’s vacant home, “Jackrabbit Hole House,” for one night, then for a few days, then maybe for a few weeks, while she decides how to move forward.

Meanwhile, she meets engagingly quirky local characters -- another typical feature of Kingfisher novels -- including Jenny, mayor as well as postmistress, fire chief, and police chief; Grandma Billy, who keeps a flock of chickens and a guard peacock; and Catholic priest Father Aguirre, who’s surprisingly respectful toward the local desert gods/spirits (the distinction is fuzzy). Selena, as more than one person points out to her, apologizes too much. She’s paralyzingly afraid of doing the wrong thing and certain her new neighbors, who gift her with fresh produce and (in Grandma Billy’s case) a daily bounty of eggs, will perceive her as a “moocher.” She’s even reluctant to “impose” on the weekly community potluck dinner. At first I thought her need to memorize “scripts” for every social interaction depicts her as mildly autistic, but it soon becomes clear that she simply lacks any shred of self-esteem. Over a lifetime, her confidence has been systematically beaten down by a domineering mother and a gaslighting fiancé. Reluctantly getting used to life in Quartz Creek, she soon realizes she wants to stay. Granted, though, the local people’s matter-of-fact belief in supernatural entities strikes her as peculiar, and she suspects Grandma Billy of being downright crazy. Moreover, as we learn later in the story, Father Aguirre has his own secret.

Selena begins to accept the truth only when she witnesses such things as a timid squash spirit in the vegetable garden -- unless she’s losing her mind. But she has to acknowledge the reality of the spirit realm when she learns of her aunt’s relationship with Snake-Eater, the roadrunner god. As both the narrative and the author’s afterword emphasize, real-world roadrunners don’t resemble the cartoon bird. They’re more like two-foot-tall dinosaurs, which Selena discovers when she balks at filling her aunt’s former role and Snake-Eater won’t take “no” for an answer. Similarly to the heroine of THE TWISTED ONES, Selena (with the help of Grandma Billy and Father Aguirre) follows her dog through a portal into another realm, where she has to face the gods of the desert. Ultimately, she triumphs over Snake-Eater not through combat, physical or magical, but through open-mindedness, friendship, her bond with Copper, and her kindness to creatures such as the squash god in the garden and scorpions in the house. The denouement includes a delightful confrontation that sends the insufferable Walter packing.

I do have one reservation about the novel, in agreement with a review I read: Its setting around or soon after 2050 seems irrelevant and unnecessary. Aside from passing allusions to near-future technology, little of which reaches Quartz Creek, we learn the approximate year only from the age of Father Aguirre’s truck. Why does the author include this pointless distraction? Her afterword doesn’t say.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

Oldies But Goodies {Put This One on Your TBR List} The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher by Karen S. Wiesner

 

Oldies But Goodies

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Beware major spoilers (you'll get pretty much the whole story here)! 

Of late on the Alien Romances Blog, I've been reviewing "reimagined and unconventional fairytales" written by T. Kingfisher. In my first take on Kingfisher's loose renderings of fairytales, I reviewed Nettle & Bone, which is basically a subversion of everything that's been done in a fairytale all rolled into one, along with Bryony and Roses ("Beauty and the Beast") and Thornhedge ("Sleeping Beauty"). After that, I reviewed The Seventh Bride ("Mr. Fox"/"The Robber Bridegroom", and other aberrations) by itself followed by A Sorceress Comes to Call ("The Goose Girl"). 

In preparation for reading The Raven and the Reindeer, a 2016 LGBTQ fantasy release, I re-read the 1844 original Danish tale "The Snow Queen" published in New Fairy Tales, First Volume by Hans Christian Andersen. You can find it online free in many different places. Unlike most of these fairytales, this one is presented in seven long, mostly boring chapters in which a lot of crap that doesn't matter in the least is included and the stuff that's really important is unforgivably skated over (more about that later). Some inventive adaptations of the original that most people will know include C. S. Lewis's The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe and Disney's Frozen. 

So the basic story in "The Snow Queen" is that the devil makes a magic mirror that reflects only the worst aspects of everyone and everything. When it shatters, pieces of it fall and get stuck in people's eyes and hearts, forcing them to become cold and bitter. Gerda and Kai (both names are spelled differently from one variation to the next) are children who grow up next door to each other. Gerda is in love with Kai, he kisses her, but then splinters of the mirror get in his eye and heart, changing him. The Snow Queen comes to town and takes Kai away with her. Gerda is determined to rescue him and goes through a whole lot to do that, though mainly we're forced to endure a lot of boring prose that does nothing to further the tale. All the aspects of "magic" and the supernatural that are the point of this whole story are offered up as short, simple facts, a presumption of acceptance is thrown down like a gauntlet, and readers dare not question the plausibility of anything. Boiled down, the series of events Gerda goes through are:

1)    Gerda is enchanted by a witch who puts her to work in her garden for an endless amount of time until she's able to wake up…you know, somehow.

2)    A crow Gerda can talk to tells her he might have seen Kai in a palace--but it's not him, so it was a big waste of time even going there.

3)    Gerda is kidnapped by a band of robbers, but the robber girl and her reindeer decide to help Gerda instead.

4)    Traveling north, they meet two women. The second tells the reindeer that Gerda has special power that can save Kai--her sweet and innocent child's heart. If she can't figure it out from there, well, that's her problem!

5)    They get to the Snow Queen's palace and enter easily. This is where Kai has been put to work on a Mirror of Reason puzzle that enchants him to stay where he is forever. Gerda rushes to him and kisses him, the spell is broken, and her tears melt the splinters in his heart and eye.

6)    Happily ever after. I said, happily ever after, sir! Just accept it, okay? How, what, when, where, why? you splutter. It just is. I don't know what happened to the crow or the robber girl or the reindeer. Gerda and Kai get away--the Snow Queen apparently was getting her hair done or something, and they're free to leave, go home, and Grandma reads a passage from the Bible about changing and becoming as little children to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I'm confused. What just happened? Does any of this make the slightest bit of sense? The bigger question, to me, is, how did this story become such a popular one? I mentioned two popular retellings, but there are dozens in existence. Unfathomably. In Kingfisher's acknowledgements, she wonders about that as well. Maybe because it was done so incompletely and poorly?

So, here's my big gripe: Nearly all old fairytales present a story that's almost always rife with unbelievable magic or events that are in no way explained, justifiable, or even particularly detailed. More like's it's presented as if readers are expected to go along with it, like, "Oh, it's magic/unbelievable/crazy. So that happened. Okay, I believe it. Onward!" Except you can't quite believe it because there's no basis for justification. You either move forward, accept that it's all silly and just keep reading because period…or you don't. It's as if the authors didn't feel the need to get their audience to accept the plausibility of their tales. You'd think they would or could have at least tried to provide some kind of elucidation. So often, they didn't bother. Don't ask me why not, or why the publishers didn't make it a requirement then. I can't even imagine. 

I realize most of you already know what the literary concept of "suspension of disbelief" is, but I'll reiterate the gist of it here just to make sure everyone's on the same page, since that's the foundation of this review. In essence, a valid explanation is introduced early in the story that gives the readers what they need to accept something fantastically implausible. If a reader isn't given this justification, it's almost impossible for them to immerse themselves in the story at any point. It's too unbelievable. I'd add that readers who aren't given something convincing enough in this regard either chuck the book over the side of the boat or they spend the rest of the narration in the booing section, shouting snide comments like, "And how exactly did they do that?" every few seconds. 

The original fairytale "The Snow Queen" is one of the worst I've ever seen when it comes to the author not giving even the slightest hint of something that would allow suspension of disbelief. Readers are moved from one situation to the next and, if the writer had done the slightest bit of work (hey, that's part of the craft!), maybe those situation could have been exciting and worthwhile. Instead, we're just left to muddle our way through a thicket of dense forest in the dark with no idea what's important and what's not. We're relieved when it's over, sure, but not for the reason I suspect the author intended. 

T. Kingfisher's rendition, The Raven and the Reindeer, went through every single chapter of Anderson's pitiful, poorly constructed story and gave us worthy justifications that allowed for suspension of disbelief from start to finish. As I read "The Snow Queen", the same question kept come back from one scenario to the next: "How in the world did that work?" I never found out. The author had a really good idea for a story, but he didn't bother to write anything but this skeleton that was bloated with unsightly and painful boils. Mainly, he got sidetracked by silliness that does not story construction make. 

So now I'll tell you how Kingfisher told this tale: Gerta is in love with Kay, and though they're friends, he doesn't seem to know what to make of their relationship, though he does kiss her once--something that confuses her, as well it should. They grew up as neighbors. He's a strange boy who likes puzzles, but she doesn't mind his oddities, though she's put off by them sometimes, internalizing them. She has a nightmare one night, in which Kay is kidnapped by a frost queen in a sled. The next morning, she sees something is definitely going on because the boy she's known all her life has become cold and cruel. Not long later, Kay goes missing and Gerta realizes, after talking to her very knowledgeable grandmother, that it was the Snow Queen who took him. Gerta is determined to get him back. She thinks she may be in love with him, but she isn't sure about that. She sets off and doesn't really know where to go or how to get there, which is probably why she fumbles through so many bad episodes along the way. Boiled down, the series of events Gerta follows after this point are:

1)    Gerta is enchanted by a witch who isn't evil or particularly powerful, just lonely. She puts her under an enchantment. Every day Gerta works in her garden. Seven months pass. A memory of Kay jars Gerta so she wakes up to realize something bad is happening to her. She talks to the flowers in the garden, who tell her Kay can't be dead because, being one with the whole earth, they would know if his body joined theirs. Gerta confronts the witch, who repents and gives her the basic supplies she needs to survive her journey.

2)    A raven named Mousebones that Gerda can talk to joins her on the road. He's loyal and very helpful in his way, when he wants to be, but he's also sharp-tongued. Fun!

3)    Gerta is kidnapped by a band of robbers who want to eat her, but the robber girl with them, Janna, is also a prisoner of sorts. She and her reindeer (who Gerta can also talk to) decide to help Gerta instead. In fact, the reindeer is so old and lonely for a herd that he offers up his skin so Gerta can walk the reindeer road, which is the only way Gerta can get into the Snow Queen's realm. (In essence, the reindeer willingly gives up his skin so Gerta can wear it and become a reindeer.) When Janna kisses Gerta, she becomes very confused about her feelings for Kay.

4)    Traveling north, they meet an old storyteller who tells them to find Livli, a Lutheran and one who understands reindeer and cold in ways few others can.

5)    They find a tunnel into the Snow Queen's palace and, thanks to the very friendly and adorable otters that pull her sled, they're able to find Kay. The otters don't feel much loyalty to the monster they're forced to serve. Kay's been put to work on a puzzle all this time, and he's anything but friendly toward Gerta. He believes she's wasted her time trying to find him. Gerda has been wondering herself why she went to all this trouble. But she's reminded that he has ice splinters in his heart and eye, causing him to be cold and cruel to her and her new friends.

6)    The Snow Queen shows up, and she blasts Gerta with her icy powers. Gerta is, for all intents and purposes, dead--but remember how Gerta could talk to the flowers because they're connected with all things of the earth? Well, now semi-dead, Gerta is also of the earth and "Mother Nature" can talk to her directly. She tells Mother Nature that she's been under the Snow Queen's enchantment all this time, forestalling spring, and causing animals and other things of nature to go hungry, etc. This enrages Mother Nature, and she's coaxed into fighting back against this evil being. Gerta asks if she can be sent back to the world of the living, to Kay, sure, and her animal friends, but mostly to Janna, whom she's fallen in love with and intends to spend the rest of her life with just as soon as Kay is delivered home to his family. The friendly, flying otters are happy to assist now that they're also free. 

Even on the basis of this summary, I think you can imagine that this was a very well-constructed, tense, worthwhile story that has a more fitting and appropriate happily ever after than whatever the heck that was in the original tale. 

The Raven and the Reindeer takes the rattling bones of Anderson's bad, bad, bad story and makes it something unexpected, fully human, and intriguing. It's almost like a literal retelling in which all the important areas of the original that were foolishly left out are finally explained and logically played out. Gerta isn't someone who really understands herself or the world around her (like, at all), so she falls into a lot of traps, like believing she must be destined to end up with Kay as her soulmate, assuming everyone is honest and above-board, and taking so long to realize that her innate abilities are the very ones she needs to succeed in her quest. The character building here was fairly complex, unlike the original. To round all this out, we're treated to Kingfisher's trademark, animated, loveable creatures. In my opinion, they're what really made this particular story something special. 

The author herself (under her real name Ursula Vernon) designed the very cool and stunning cover art. 

I'm still hoping to get hold of Hemlock & Silver ("Snow White") soon to complete the circle of review of T. Kingfisher's fairytale retellings. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

Oldies But Goodies {Put This One on Your TBR List} A Sorceress Comes to Call by T. Kingfisher by Karen S. Wiesner

 

Oldies But Goodies

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T. Kingfisher

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Beware spoilers! 

Of late on the Alien Romances Blog, I've been reviewing "reimagined and unconventional fairytales" written by T. Kingfisher. I came up with this list of her selections, arranged below on the basis of their publication dates: 

The Seventh Bride ("Mr. Fox"/"The Robber Bridegroom", and other aberrations)         

Bryony and Roses ("Beauty and the Beast")

The Raven and the Reindeer ("The Snow Queen") 

Thornhedge ("Sleeping Beauty")

A Sorceress Comes to Call ("Goose Girl")

Hemlock & Silver ("Snow White") 

In my first take on Kingfisher's loose renderings of fairytales, I reviewed Nettle & Bone, which is basically a subversion of everything that's been done in a fairytale all rolled into one, along with Bryony and Roses and Thornhedge. After that, I reviewed The Seventh Bride by itself. 

In preparation for reading A Sorceress Comes to Call, a 2024 fantasy release focused on "a dark retelling" (which is what it's been described as in reviews and summaries), I refreshed myself on the 1815 German tale "The Goose Girl" published in Grimm's Fairy Tales by the Brothers Grimm. You can find it online free in many different places. 

The crux of that story is that a mother trusts a maid who works for them to ensure her princess daughter gets delivered safely to the prince she'll be marrying. The mother (not apparently a witch?) makes some supernatural preparations to that end--namely, ensuring their magical horse Falada goes along and by giving her daughter a handkerchief that's been enchanted. En route (and long story short), the princess loses her charm (literally, it falls out of her bosom and gets washed down the stream; bye-bye enchantment--it floats out of the story from that point on, out of sight and out of mind) while the maid declares mutiny and forces the princess to swap roles (and clothes) with her so she can pose as the princess. Meanwhile, the real one becomes her maid. This schemer extracts an oath from the princess to prevent her from telling the truth to the royal family she'll be marrying into. The maid anticipates becoming rich and pampered for the rest of her days. It's a brilliant plan, really, until they get to the castle of the bridegroom. The real princess is sent to care for the geese, the horse is promptly beheaded, and the maid is whisked away to prepare for her happily-ever-after. 

Alas, the destiny of royalty can't be hidden or squelched under rags and menial labor…you know, or something. When the princess lets down her golden hair, the boy Conrad she works with is possessed with the desire to snatch a few of the valuable tresses, so she voices an enchantment to make his hat blow away so she has time to brush out and plait her hair each day. Thank goodness for her princess hair, or this tale would have gone seriously wrong! And let's not get into how, if she's like her mom and can conjure enchantments, why not produce one that sets this all aright? 

Anyway, this happens between "The Goose Girl" and Conrad many times. Eventually, he gets sick of weird things happening around her, goes to the king (apparently any Tom, Dick and Harry can approach the king himself for any reason) and says he won't herd geese with her anymore. The king convinces him to continue one more day, and that morning the king watches in stealth. Finding things just as Conrad told him they were with this strange girl, the king summons her and orders her to tell him her story. She says she can't because of the oath the maid dragged out of her. He suggests she go tell the stove then. (Yes, you read that right.) She climbs in, lays her troubles bare to the cast iron, and he hears everything. 

At that point, the king decides to trick the maid into choosing the manner of her own punishment. Hey presto! All gets swapped back to the way they're fated to be. We've all long forgotten the magical elements her mother sent her on her way bearing. So, what was the point of them? Who knows? In any case, I'm sure the prince must not have been swindled into believing the maid was authentic at any point because he sure doesn't seem to mind the new bride that gets traded in while the one he thought he was going to marry ends up dragged naked through the kingdom in a barrel filled with spikes. Summary: I can safely say that T. Kingfisher's version wasn't much darker than the original. 

Okay, so now that you know the basis of "The Goose Girl" story (if for some odd reason you didn't already know it), I'll tell you that A Sorceress Comes to Call is almost nothing like it. To even call it a loose rendition is a stretch. For the life of me, I couldn't twist or finagle Kingfisher's story to fit much of anything within the fairytale it was supposedly based on beyond that, in A Sorceress Comes to Call, there's a magical horse named Falada who eventually becomes headless and there were geese (after a fashion) in the retelling. 

None of this is actually a judgment on Kingfisher's story, nor was there any real sadness in there not being much by way of parallels between these two. I would, however, like to hear it directly from the author why or how the original story inspired her tale. 'Cause I just don't get it. Almost always, Kingfisher includes some illumination about her inspiration for the story in the note she puts at the end of nearly all her books. With this one, she didn't bother to mention it, and this is the one I'm most wanting an explanation for. Sigh. Getting past that (I will eventually), I will say that A Sorceress Comes to Call was just as unique and unexpected as its predecessor. 

Fourteen-year-old Cordelia isn't a princess and her mother is not only a living nightmare but also a dreadful sorceress with a horse-shaped familiar. When their finances run to ground, Evangeline decides to snag a rich squire for herself. In order to do so, she first has to win him with her natural charm, as any magical enchantment enhancements would be broken during the church wedding ceremony (which uses wine, salt, and water) to ensure nothing unholy takes place. What Evangeline hasn't counted on is the Squire's sister Hester, a woman who chose to be a spinster (long story you'll discover in the course of reading this). Hester befriends Cordelia and realizes her mother is far removed from the innocent, sweet woman of misfortune she appears to be--only on the surface. From that point on, Hester becomes determined to save her brother along with this poor, abused daughter of an evil witch. But how to do that? 

I would have liked to know more specifics about Evangeline's origins, though the story does give a basic presumption about what happened to the most powerful sorceresses in that time period and area. Outside of that, the story told was very satisfying, filled with thoroughly engaging characters. Again, Kingfisher's lively prose made for a humorous, suspenseful journey toward solving a most beguiling conundrum about what to do when a sorceress comes to call. 

I'm hoping to get hold of Kingfisher's newest (at the time of this writing in November 2025), Hemlock & Silver, soon for review to complete the circle of fairytale-spun retellings. Don't miss this one. It may not be anything like the origin story, which you might want to peruse before or after, but it's definitely worth a read on its own, considerable merits. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/