I found The Forgotten Magic deeply disappointing, not least because it gestures towards themes of belonging, adoption, and self-worth, then handles them with a surprising lack of care.
Edward’s adopted status is positioned as the central source of his anxiety, but instead of challenging the notion that “real” magic - and by extension real value - is inherited, the book quietly reinforces it. Again and again, adoption is framed as a deficit to be overcome, something that makes Ed inherently lesser until he is conveniently proven exceptional after all. For young readers who are adopted, or who sit outside neat biological narratives, this is a troubling message to absorb.
The contrast between Edward and his twin sister Elodie is equally grating. Elodie exists largely as a foil - effortlessly capable, emotionally distant, and narratively disposable. Rather than exploring sibling dynamics with nuance, the book leans into a tired binary where the boy’s insecurity is profound and sympathetic, while the girl’s competence is taken for granted and faintly resented. Her interior life is barely acknowledged, which feels like a missed opportunity at best and quietly sexist at worst.
The magic system itself is vague to the point of carelessness. Powers expand when the plot requires them to, and consequences are gestured at rather than meaningfully explored. We are repeatedly warned that dreams can “turn into nightmares”, but the ethical implications of wielding such power are skimmed over in favour of melodrama. Fear replaces responsibility; angst replaces reflection.
Stylistically, the book indulges heavily in familiar fantasy shorthand - ancient families, fading magic, special boys with hidden gifts - without doing anything particularly new with it. For a genre that has moved on significantly in recent years, this feels oddly backward-looking. Emotional beats are over-explained, yet the deeper questions - about identity, agency, and what truly makes someone belong - remain frustratingly underexamined.
In the end, this is a story that promises depth and delivers reassurance: you are special after all, you just didn’t know it yet. For some readers, that may be comforting. As an educator, I find it worryingly complacent, and far too invested in the idea that worth must still be proven through exceptional power rather than inherent humanity.