Anna-Marie McLemore is a queer, nonbinary, Latinx author who grew up hearing la Ilorona in the Santa Ana Winds. Their books include William C. Morris YA Debut Award Finalist The Weight of Feathers; Stonewall Honor Book When the Moon Was Ours, which was longlisted for the National Book Award; Wild Beauty, a Kirkus, Booklist, and School Library Journal Best Book of 2017; Blanca & Roja, a New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice; and Dark and Deepest Red, a Winter 2020 Kids' Indie Next List title. You can find Anna at author.annamariemclemore.com. You can find more of my reviews of their work here.
*This book (and thus this review) contains discussions of sexual assault and PTSD.*
Graciela Cristales's whole world changes after she and a boy she barely knows are assaulted at the same party. She loses her gift for making enchanted pan dulce. Neighborhood trees vanish overnight, while mirror glass appears, bringing reckless magic with it. And Ciela is haunted by what happened to her and what happened to the boy whose name she never learned. But when the boy, Lock, shows up at Ciela's school, he has no memory of that night and no clue that a single piece of mirrored glass is tearing his life apart. Ciela decides to help him, which means hiding the truth about that night. Because Ciela knows who assaulted her—and him. And she knows that their survival depends on no one finding out what really happened.
If someone asked me what this book was about, I would say blurred lines and sharp edges. McLemore, in writing this book, has taken on the responsibility of writing about trauma, surviving, healing, and everything in between. It is not an easy task, most definitely made more difficult with the idea of having a responsibility to do it well in the first place. And they do it better than just "well"—in fact, this is the most phenomenal contemporary young adult novel I've ever read. McLemore carves out a space in publishing for women of color, boys, and queer and trans people whose stories (especially stories of sexual assault) are so often glanced over. The same way they build this space for those people with a survivor story, McLemore also brings to light all of the sides of the healing process. There are the ideas of listening and talking as being important processes for everyone involved. They shed light on the fact that the decision to even begin the healing process, how "yes" and "no" become even more powerful words after an important decision has been taken away from you. And finally, one of the most prominent discussions of the book is how one can find their body again, and their confidence in your body after it felt like that had been stripped away. These discussions—and thus this entire novel—is haunting, yet written beautifully and carefully. McLemore doesn't shy away from the sharp edges of these conversations, while also recognizing the moments the edges blur and disappear. The main character, Ceila, is the avenue through which we explore these conversations. In a way, Ciela is the one who truly presents the idea of the blurred lines and sharp edges. For most of the novel, Ciela was hiding and trying to do what was right for her, even if that meant taking something away from other people, hiding behind the idea that doing so would also protect them. There are no easy choices for her in the after, and McLemore makes the nuances of that abundantly clear through Ciela's decision making process. It is what makes the, as described by Aisha Saeed, "redemptive nature of healing" resolution of the novel more moving and powerful.
The Mirror Season takes a lot of its inspiration from The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen, an immensely popular fairytale. A lot of the elements of the fairytale can be found within the book: the mirror shards and its effects on those it touches; the journey of the female-identifying protagonist "saving" the male-identifying protagonist; the fact that the world hasn't changed, but the characters have. In the author's note at the end of The Mirror Season, they mention the ways in which their fascinations with this fairytale have inspired the story. Rather than identifying with Gerda, the main protagonist, McLemore was drawn to the Snow Queen, whose backstory was never revealed, and the Little Robber Girl, who is the only one with brown skin and black hair, the only one that looks like McLemore. Knowing the author's fascinations with the story makes The Mirror Season a richer story to grapple with. It forces into the limelight that white stories (especially of the kind of sexual assault that McLemore depicts in The Mirror Season) are the ones often believed and circulated, whereas those same stories on women of color, boys, and queer and trans survivors are often ignored or called as falsehood. Choosing this particular fairytale for this particular story of a queer woman of color survivor and a male survivor of sexual assault was a powerful decision. It forces readers (especially white readers like myself) to brutally question society's role in diminishing these voices, or discrediting them.
Anna-Marie McLemore is well known for their magical realism, and while The Mirror Season definitely falls into that category, I would argue that this book is more grounded in contemporary reality than their other books. A few of the main settings include a high school party and a high school, which are more contemporary settings than I've read from McLemore. However, this absolutely is not a bad thing. In fact, I think this is one of the biggest reasons the discussions of sexual assault and PTSD and gender identity are so strong and meaningful within the book. It allows the reader the ability to ground themself here, to see themself within the characters. Instead of getting entirely lost in the magical realism/fantasy element, readers can identify with the characters and their struggles.
Stylistically, this book is stronger than any other contemporary young adult fiction book on the market. Not only did the author choose a fairytale that would perfectly reflect the situation of the characters while also forcing the reader into action, but McLemore made plenty of other stylistic choices to support the story. One of those choices was opting for shorter chapters. It allows for easily recognizable repetition that makes the magic feel more magical, the brutality to feel more brutal. It allows the sharpest moments of the text to evoke sharper feelings within the reader. It also forms a nice contrast with the chapters that are longer, which are usually chapters where Lock and Ciela talk about their survivor experiences. These chapters, which are certainly heavier my nature, bracketed by shorter chapters, create a supportive reading experience. McLemore deliberately places the most shocking reveals of the book close to one another, not for shock-value necessarily, but for the reading experience that would allow for the most heartbreak within the reader. They are also further along in the book, where you're reading to see how Lock and Ciela will survive this season, but also to figure out exactly what it is that happened. And once you find out, it's almost like you wish you could take it back, and save them from it, since you've gotten to love both of them by the point the heartbreaking truth is revealed.
Now, all I want is some pan dulce and more books by Anna-Marie McLemore to read them with. You can find more of my reviews of their work here, and you can bet that when they release another book, I'll be on top of it!
*This review can also be found on my Goodreads page*
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