A review by julzangold
Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid
4.0
The first third of the book felt like crawling through really pretty barbed wire. And then the magic hit me like a pretty white bird dropped a millstone on my head.
In this creative retelling of The Juniper Tree, a Grimm Fairytale, plain-faced Marlinchen and her two beautiful sisters work under her father, the Great Wizard Zmiy. The loose setting of a Ukrainian city showcases a changing world, and is no longer one for wizards with witch-daughters. As Zmiy struggles with his monstrous curse, a monster roams the streets, butchering men, seemingly without a thread of connection. Meanwhile, Marlinchen finds herself in a body of a woman and grows bolder, escaping her father’s strict house rules to go explore her city with a handsome principle dancer.
The writing is detailed and flowery, reminiscent of an Old German fairytale in and of itself. It’s beautiful but may be slow, and filled with foreign and fantastical words. Perhaps this is what made the first part of the book quite boring to me, but in hindsight, I realize it’s brilliance. The last third of the book picks up speed like a steam locomotive and I found myself thankful for the imagery. This author weaves such a splendid, dark story that felt convincingly real.
While Marlinchen and Sevastyan’s romance lays as a subplot for most of the book, I loved their story. Their shared grief reflects a lot of the themes of the original Grimm story and gives them their deserved happy ending. Other than those two, I couldn’t find love for any of the characters. Undine and even Rose were grating, and Zmiy was an awful man through and through (despite Marlinchen’s hopes for his love prevailing). For a novel with hateful characters, I ended up mourning it by the turn of the 299th page.
Just- how insanely smart is this line: “I had made him a monster that ordinary men knew how to fear”? Bravo to Ava Reid.
In this creative retelling of The Juniper Tree, a Grimm Fairytale, plain-faced Marlinchen and her two beautiful sisters work under her father, the Great Wizard Zmiy. The loose setting of a Ukrainian city showcases a changing world, and is no longer one for wizards with witch-daughters. As Zmiy struggles with his monstrous curse, a monster roams the streets, butchering men, seemingly without a thread of connection. Meanwhile, Marlinchen finds herself in a body of a woman and grows bolder, escaping her father’s strict house rules to go explore her city with a handsome principle dancer.
The writing is detailed and flowery, reminiscent of an Old German fairytale in and of itself. It’s beautiful but may be slow, and filled with foreign and fantastical words. Perhaps this is what made the first part of the book quite boring to me, but in hindsight, I realize it’s brilliance. The last third of the book picks up speed like a steam locomotive and I found myself thankful for the imagery. This author weaves such a splendid, dark story that felt convincingly real.
While Marlinchen and Sevastyan’s romance lays as a subplot for most of the book, I loved their story. Their shared grief reflects a lot of the themes of the original Grimm story and gives them their deserved happy ending. Other than those two, I couldn’t find love for any of the characters. Undine and even Rose were grating, and Zmiy was an awful man through and through (despite Marlinchen’s hopes for his love prevailing). For a novel with hateful characters, I ended up mourning it by the turn of the 299th page.
Just- how insanely smart is this line: “I had made him a monster that ordinary men knew how to fear”? Bravo to Ava Reid.