“What was a story except a berry you ate over and over again, until your lips and tongue were red and every word you spoke was poison?”
Thank you to the publishers and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Ava Reid’s debut, The Wolf and the Woodsman, was nothing short of a masterpiece of adult fantasy and set such a high standard for what debuts could accomplish. I was incredibly excited to be able to continue to support them and read more of their work… and a fantasy-horror retelling of Grimm’s darkest fairytale? Say no more!
Juniper & Thorn follows Marlinchen, the youngest of three daughters of the last wizard in Oblya, a city in the midst of throwing off the old ways and embracing modernization. As witches, Marlinchen and her sisters are little more than a source of income for their tyrannical father, who keeps them locked away from the outside world and under a tight leash.
But as young women, they chafe under his rules and sneak out of the house at night. On Marlinchen’s first night out, she is swept away by the ballet performance she sees, and the principal dancer who plays Prince Ivan. Every midnight tryst leaves hope for true love and freedom, but she also risks her father’s magic and rage if she’s ever found out.
Between money problems, their father’s turbulent moods and explosive fury, and a monster who stalks the streets of Oblya murdering innocents, everything will fall to Marlinchen as she figures out the true depths of what her father has done to them, exactly what the cost of freedom could be, and if she can afford to pay it.
Similar to TW+TW, Reid is able to craft such vivid, palpable atmosphere that is perfectly suited to the story they are trying to tell. Behind sunny and bright gardens lurk monsters and a sinister house that hides many things. Times of day alternate, turning sunny gardens to shadow-filled silence. Night migrations that lead to brightly lit ballet theaters. Like taking a bite of fruit with a rotten core, the atmosphere is in turns gorgeous and enticing, then shocking and disgusting, and back again. There’s a claustrophobic feel to the horror within their house, the weight of secrets and suffering.
The vividly different imagery mirrored their abusive father’s moods. Sometimes he would be kind and grateful, and then he could explode and threaten them with his magic. They lived in constant fear of him. He was cursed by a witch to never feel satisfied with anything. This novel was a realistic (but horrible) example of how it can feel to live under the abuse from a parent. The fear. The unknown. Walking on eggshells. Desperately trying ANYTHING to please them and to be loved, only to fail, to slip up, again and again. Nothing will ever be good enough, and the difficulty of truly coming to terms with that fact.
Fairytales are woven in to this narrative as Marlinchen recounts them to herself as she compares them to her life or uses them to make sense of things that have happened to her, or tells them to Sevas, the love interest. She was a child raised on magic and a fairytale codex and since this was a fairytale retelling, it seemed fitting. I always love the incorporation of fairytales and mythology within fantasy books.
And Sevas, my god, I would die for him. I truly don’t know how Ava is able to write such compelling but noticeably different love interests. I loved Gaspar in TW+TW, but they are not very similar and relationship dynamics were completely different as well. Sevas’ kindness and compassion and understanding to Marlinchen from the very beginning above all. There is something so visceral and unendingly awe-inspiring than a good, old fashioned “I see you. I see all of your flaws. I accept them. I love you.” scene. They make me want to rattle the bars of my sanity cage and scream into my pillow.
And I have to say I loved the complex relationship Marlinchen had with her sisters. So many times we read books about siblings being the best of friends, even if that isn’t always what reflects real life. Marlinchen’s relationship with her sisters was messy, was awful, set them apart, showed what they all had to do to themselves and to each other to survive living under their father, regardless if that meant throwing someone else to their father’s rage. I found it fascinating, and horrible, and understandable.
Since humanity began recording their stories, we’ve used fairytales to explore the darkness inside us and around us and explain that monsters can come from within as easily as they can stalk us through the woods. Juniper & Thorn is faithful to that purpose and shows such understanding and reverence to that function fairytales performed, and as custom, also managing to have a happy ending for our dear plain-faced fairytale heroine Marlinchen.
I look forward to anything else Ava Reid may write in the future, especially A Study in Drowning (fall 2023) and will certainly add this book to my collection come June!
I encourage you to read the author’s full statement regarding this book’s content warnings that you can find in the Goodreads reviews and as a reminder, this book is a fantasy horror. It’s meant to horrify, to repulse, to offend. It tackles and gives words to topics that may be hard to read for some, but everyone, from abuse survivors, to SA survivors, to ED survivors, deserve to have stories written for them and deserve to see themselves within fiction. And perhaps even more importantly: remember that survivors have different experiences. Do not disregard their voices because you, personally, might not find it palatable.
Content warnings: gore / body horror, child sexual abuse, physical and psychological family abuse, bulimia and graphic depictions of vomiting, animal death, cannibalism, self-harm and suicidal ideation, antisemitism and xenophobia.