The back of my volume of this book reads "Love speaks in flowers. Truth requires thorns." Truer words have never been spoken, and those words resonate throughout every page of this stunning prequel story for the Grishaverse universe. This installment, full of six fairytales and lush illustrations, is a wonderful introduction to the stories that beloved Grishaverse characters would have heard when they were young and throughout their travels. The illustrations and the words on the page create beautiful, unforgettable, dark, and lovely stories of greed, loss, love, terror, and loyalty. Bardugo's and Kipin's work creates a haunting guidebook, perfect for new fans and old, as they explore the lands of the Grishaverse through its loare.
Leigh Bardugo is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of fantasy novels and the creator of the Grishaverse. With over one million copies sold, her Grishaverse spans the Shadow and Bone Trilogy, the Six of Crows Duology, and The Language of Thorns--with more to come. Her short stories can be found in multiple anthologies, including Some of the Best from Tor.com and The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2017. Her other works include Wonder Woman: Warbringer and the forthcoming Ninth House. Leigh was born in Jerusalem, grew up in Los Angeles, graduated from Yale University, and has worked in advertising, journalism, and even makeup and special effects. These days, she lives and writes in Hollywood, where she can occasionally be heard singing with her band. You can find her at leighbardugo.com. For more of my reviews of Leigh's book, click here. Sara Kipin is an illustrator best known for her fantasy works portraying strong, self-empowered, feminine characters. Her style is inspired by early animation and romantic paintings. Sara is a graduate of the Maryland Institute College of Art and currently lives in Burbank, California. You can find her at sarakipin.com.
Travel to a world of dark bargains struck by moonlight, of haunted towns and hungry woods, of talking beasts and gingerbread golems, where a young mermaid's voice can summon deadly storms and where a river might do a lovestruck boy's bidding but only for a terrible price. Inspired by myth, folklore, and fairy tale, #1 New York Times bestselling author Leigh Bardugo has crafted a deliciously atmospheric collection of short stories filled with betrayals, revenge, sacrifice, and love. Perfect for new readers and dedicated fans, these tales will transport you to lands both familiar and strange--to a fully realized world of dangerous magic that millions have visited through the novels of the Grishaverse.
Below are mini-reviews of each of the six tales that make up this spellbinding volume. No previous knowledge of the Grishaverse is needed to enjoy these tales, although an understanding of the Grishaverse landscape certainly will enhance the experience.
If you're interested in more of my Grishaverse reviews, you can find them all here.
*This review can also be found on my Goodreads page*
Ayama and the Thorn Wood
With each flip of this fantastic opening short story, the illustrations grow and reflect the themes of this story. That is the first thing I noticed, and I was seriously excited to advance in the story, to know the ending and to see what each illustration hinted at. When the thorns grew over the labyrinth, I found that it was symbolic of Ayama leading the beast through the town. When the roses bud on the thorns, I found beauty in the unexpected and happy ending of a story.
The fact that the kind did the terrible things he accused the beast of was a turn that made me feel surprisingly full of justice. I felt like that moment was reflective of how traditional fairy tales always seem to hide the whole truth, and that humans are more complex than fairytales. This, I believe, was the goal of Bardugo's entire collection, so the fact that it pervades the first story so deeply was a great way to be thrown into the volume.
The power of three is real in storytelling, and Bardugo uses that to her advantage in this opening story as well. I love that her writing in this first story just flowed so naturally and gorgeously, making this first story one I devoured quickly.
The Too-Clever Fox
The way to animals grew across the pages made me feel like I was slipping into the woods for the first of three Ravkan fairytales. One of my favorite things about the illustrations of this piece was the way the shades and colors changed. This story was cast in blue, but if you paid close attention the way certain animals were shaded, it gave hints to the fates of those animals.
In my mind, this story was absolutely perfect. It had all the right characters at play, a plot twist that was cleverly and neatly revealed at exactly the right moment, and an ending that was wasn't sweet but wasn't sad either. I felt that this story, out of most of the others, begged a reread. Lula was described as being wise at the very end, in the last line. This caused me to ask so many questions: What does that mean? Ware are the things she did during the story that led the narrator to that conclusion? What is the message there? That being wise is better than being clever? I will definitely be rereading this fairytale to find the answers to those questions.
The Witch of Duva
This story opens with an ominous feel, as if we're about to examine the story of all the girls that go out at night and have bad things happen to them (no fault of their own). The fact that the woman in the woods did a first person narration of this story and the reveal of that narration was superb.
Another one of my favorite parts of this story was the way that it felt sweet at the beginning, accompanied by the sweets illustrating the borders of the page. The ribbons, sweets, clouds, and dreamy feel of those illustrations directly juxtaposed the dark, starving feel of Duva. When the eyes, toads, and bones appeared, I truly felt the twistedness of the story, and what Leigh was trying to accomplish.
To me, the revelation of who has been stealing the girls could have been a bit more powerful, and a bit more scornful. I also felt like there could have been more hints to Karina's goodness, or at least Nadya could have noticed that Karina seemed more complicated than she first appeared. Nonetheless, this fairytale felt the more "Ravka" out of all of them, and if you're familiar with Ravka through the other Grishaverse books, you'll know what I mean!
Little Knife
This was my favorite of the Ravkan fairytales, because of the ending and the call to action that accompanied it. I felt wrong cheering for Semyon, and I couldn't figure out why until the very end when the river's spirit revealed itself. The line "that to use a thing is not to own it" will stick with me for a long time.
The same rule of three that I noted in the first fairytale also makes an appearance in this story. There are three tasks, three suitors (even though we didn't know it was three until the end), and three times that Yeva tried to stop the tasks because she knew it would not be fruitful.
I enjoyed that the greedy father was the one running the show, and that the daughter's voice wasn't listened to until it was too late. Bardugo's author's note explains that three trials to win love never made sense to her, and it usually never makes sense to any modern day reader. Yeva's questioning of her father is necessary, as they are the questions that all women ask: what way is this?
The Soldier Prince
The way the story weaves itself around the different characters is so masterful. This idea was accompanied by the way the cabinet literally builds itself around the text, until the full color illustration at the end showed the whole thing. At first I thought it was about the clocksmith, then about Clara, and finally I realized it was the story about the nutcracker, who isn't really a nutcracker, but a Soldier Prince (hence the title of the story). While this story felt like a retelling of the nutcracker, it was only because the characters and their positions to one another were familiar. The story itself surrounded identity, trust, and, as Bardugo notes in her author's note, the distressing idea that only love can make you real.
This fairytale opens with a warning, in true Kerch fashion, about who to trust and who to let inside your house. I enjoyed the greed that pervades each character (because that also felt very Kerch for a Kerch fairytale). But the fact that the story ends in freedom and entrapment for the different characters was truly incredible. This was definitely my favorite tale out of the whole volume.
When Water Sang Fire
Last but not least, the Fjerdan fairytale takes us under the sea for the first half of the story. Following two women mermaids and their voices as they enter into the world of court, the longest fairytale of the collection is perhaps the darkest of them all. It is also the most complex, with more threads to follow, and more of a short story feel (versus the fairytale vibes of all the other ones).
I enjoyed how the illustrations and color of the text changed halfway through to reflect the new setting, and how the illustrations kept doing the work of telling the story despite its lengthier presence. As the blue water started to envelope the two human girls near the end, I felt anticipation and I literally could not imagine how the story would end. The illustrations and the writing did a great job working together in this last story.
Bardugo notes that Ulla is the Swedish diminutive of Ursula. Ursula is a character I would describe as cruel and dark, but not for no reason. It's just hard to grasp what that reason is. When Ulla revealed that she was always loyal, to Signy, only to see that Signy wouldn't feel the same in the most pivotal moments of their lives, I actually gasped. Of course Ulla would become a character always ready and willing to make a bargain. The last full color illustration is haunting, and all the full color illustrations for each fairytale will stick with me, as will the stories they depict.
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