The idea of retelling "The Goose Girl" as a story of an abused girl at the mercy of a narcissistic family member has already been done, and in my opinion much better than here, so I can't say that particular arc had the emotional impact on me as it would have if it were the first time I read such a storyline. To me, what made A Sorceress Comes to Call nice was Hester.
Kingfisher's older single female protagonist with an odd personality formula tends to feel repetitive after you've read enough of her books, and it can go either way for you. In this case, it went the positive way mainly because the other offers weren't as good. Just look at the characters roster:
- The sorceress was the typical beautiful evil woman that weaponises her beauty,
- The Squire was your average good-hearted foolish country gentry with more money than brains,
- The young girl was a scared mouse as expected in her situation,
- Your typical English manor butler with a talent for finely-mannered hypocrisy,
- A paper-cut brash and bold former flame that exists mostly for plot purposes,
- A second paper-cut less brash and less bold former flame that exists exclusively for plot purposes.
With those on offer, you have little choice but go for Hester. She single-handedly saves this book for me, and if she had been the sole narrator instead of the two-POVs storytelling Kingfisher went for, this would've got a higher mark.
Hester lacks the "not like other girls" angle that plagues Kingfisher's books, or at least it's so much softened you don't notice it as it’s not too in-your-face, and she's far more self-assured and sensible than this author’s other characters of the same type. Is she perfect? Hardly, but she comes as close as possible, and whatever you think of her brand of witty or her peculiarities towards her love interest, it’s how you connect to her and her narrator’s voice that is likely going to determine if you find this book enjoyable. Because, let's face it, it won't be Cordelia who keeps you reading.
As I am reviewing this after a reread, and with the insight that Kingfisher's latest fairy tale retelling provides on her writing, I can tell that this author should focus on doing peripheral retellings whenever she feels like tackling a tale. Because she doesn't quite grasp what a given tale's metaphors and symbols are and forces things to happen based on . . . well, that they are in the tale. Case in point: Hester has an odd interest in geese for . . . reasons, I suppose. Hester isn't the titular "goose girl" and even if she were, the geese in the fairy tale don’t carry any significance, literal or symbolic. It's the princess-to-pauper downfall what makes the Goose Girl be the goose girl, not the animals she takes care of in her disgrace. Did Kingfisher understand this? Judging from the plot here, my bet is that she didn't.
"The Goose Girl" isn't a story of domestic abuse, but it can work as such because its core theme is malleable up to a point. However, it's rather strange to me that, to retell a fairy tale in which the girl's mother is loving, caring, and gives her daughter a talking horse that basically rescues her out of degrading servitude through its post-mortem actions should get the kind of warped angle it gets in this book. This tale has one of those rare instances of a good, functional mother/daughter relationship that balances out the typical female vs female cutthroat competition for a man, and yet Kingfisher chose to make the mother a narcissistic abuser that physically and psychologically mistreats her daughter, using magic to control her mind as needed and making Falada the kind horse a tool in her abuse of her daughter instead of the rescuer.
And then people wonder why I say Kingfisher's writing feels catty. Hard to beat that accusation when you poison positive examples of feminine dynamics for the sake of a plot.
Sure, Hester becoming the rescuer in the place of Falada could be framed as an example of sorority. But Hester's motivation was saving her rich brother from a grasping golddigger first and foremost, and rescuing Cordelia from child abuse was a side quest to that main purpose. A two birds with one stone situation.
The saving the Squire from the golddigging sorceress is the entire plot, whilst Cordelia’s story is second fiddle in this orchestra. And that’s another point that bothered me personally, because I’d much better have more of this than the silly and comedic bloat. It’s a bit because Kingfisher’s brand of humour doesn’t work for me, but mainly it’s because I know Kingfisher can do abuse—and the psychological aspects of it—very well. I have seen it in a previous retelling of hers, and it’s one of my favourites. Maybe it’s this secondary role what makes this retelling feel so “loose” when it thematically isn’t. It’s simply twisted and roles are distributed or swapped. I personally don’t care that it’s loose or close as much as the inconsistency on top of the warping of a positive theme.
Of these two parallel storylines that converge, the saving of the Squire and getting rid of the sorceress is the most inconsistent. At times, it looks like the author wants to do some kind of Gothic Horror and then suddenly you get treated to some kind of silly. Sometimes you get a serious depiction of how Cordelia is suffering from abusive mind control, and next you have some convenient plot twist that breaks it down. Sometimes you get the sense the author is going for some English countryside style of murder mystery with a geese-raising Miss Marple type, and next you get the stupidest ending you could think of. This bipolarity is so annoying, and on my second read it kept kicking me out of immersion to the point it’s safe to say I liked this less than the first time round.
I won’t even bother to comment on the worldbuilding besides that it’s non-existent. The setting is vaguely reminiscent of a manor house out in an English shire, complete with stiff butler and lower nobility tropes that sound like straight out of British sitcoms, but Kingfisher doesn’t even know the proper titles and way to address a person from the nobility or landed gentry. She’s hardly alone in this, though, it’s a very common screw-up by American authors, and at least this is a Fantasy world.
My conclusions? A passable read, unremarkable and unmemorable beyond Hester. I'm rounding up my 2.5 stars for her only.