Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree (audio)

I somehow got this book recommended, I think as a comp for The Spellshop which I loved. It was a good rec! Legends and Lattes is likewise cozy, although not without threat and even violence; offers subtle romance; and incorporates fantasy and worldbuilding elements. It was on the short side, and I got so engrossed I finished it in just two days! (I’m currently engaged in the included short story, a prequel, and will write that one up for you soon.)

This novel features Viv, an orc who has worked as a mercenary – hunting bounties, killing bad guys and monsters – with a small group of associates (who are mostly also friends). She’s been dreaming of getting out of the game, though. Her back hurts. As the story opens, we see her grasp a mysterious item, a bit of a good luck charm. She journeys along ley lines to the town she’s chosen for its advantageous position. Between her luck object, the ley lines, a witching rod, and a nest egg she’s saved up, she methodically sets about establishing the first coffee shop in the town of Thune. In an interesting retail challenge, no one in Thune has ever heard of coffee; Viv herself had only encountered it in a distant gnomic city. Not only is she embarking on her first retail venture, she’s introducing an unheard-of product. Bean water?, her first few acquaintances ask her, clearly doubtful. But she has her good luck charm.

The truly cozy aspect of this story lies in Viv’s earnest desire to leave behind a life by-the-sword in favor of a more wholesome one – ‘cozy’ is in fact the word. The gnomic coffee shop she’d fallen in love with was warm, bustling, with a sense of community, as well as delicious drinks. In Thune, she slowly builds her own version of this, making friends (almost by accident and almost without noticing it) along the way. First she hires a builder, an expert craftsman but one disregarded by his local society, making him ready to appreciate Viv’s valuing his services. Next she hires an assistant, also a bit of a social outcast, but who turns out to be PR/marketing whiz (and an artist, who enlivens the chalkboard menu and signboards). Then she stumbles almost by accident on a baker, a tiny ‘ratkin’ of few words but a genius with dough and flavor. A painfully shy giant comes in to play the lute. An awkward scholar comes to study and eventually share his skills. Viv wanted a new life and livelihood; she winds up establishing a community, even a built family. And good thing, because the troubles of her old life are just around the corner.

Sweet, entertaining, page-turning. Can’t wait for more.


Rating: 7 Thimblets.

The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst (audio)

What a sweet, charming fantasy/romance story about librarians, sentient plants, and the challenges of stepping outside one’s comfort zone. I’m a new fan of Sarah Beth Durst.

We meet Kiela just before she discovers that the library is burning. She’s been sort of lackadaisically sorting books into crates for rescue, not really believing that the rebels would really burn the library – books are sacred! But we quickly escalate through smoke into evacuation: Kiela, eight or so crates of precious spellbooks, and her assistant and best (and only) friend, a sentient spider plant named Caz, load up in a small sailboat and pole out into the imperial city’s canal network and then into the sea. As the city burns, they sail for a place Kiela’s not seen nor thought much about in many years: the island of Caltrey, where she was born and where she lived until her late parents moved the family to the city when she was nine. Kiela and Caz move back into the family’s cottage – not too badly decayed – and immediately face a shortage of both food and funds. They also face a neighbor named Larran, who is handsome, kind, and too friendly for Kiela’s tastes: “We prefer neighborly,” he responds when accused, “but ‘nosy’ is probably just as accurate.” To be clear, Kiela is a total recluse: for years, since her parents died, she’s lived in a corner of the imperial library where she also worked, ordering and receiving her meals without human contact. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since she even talked to another person. And now she is challenged to deal with the inhabitants of Caltrey. Larran is helpful, but Kiela has trouble appreciating this quality, at least at first.

Indeed, at first Kiela feels a little off-putting. Her attitude toward a new acquaintance who’s trying to help is a bit harsher than felt warranted, and I found it strange how unprepared she was to do the simplest things for herself: not knowing how to forage for food or start a fire is one thing, but as an extremely well-read librarian, how has she not at least encountered the concept of survival skills, as in, enough to appreciate how little she knows? But she picks things up quickly. First, she realizes that the island is not quite as idyllic as remembered. The plants and trees are sickly, the springs drying up, the storms worsening, and the merhorses unable to reproduce. (Merhorses are essential to the island’s fisheries, and Larran’s special love: he is a merhorse herder.) Bravely, and not quite legally, she decides to use the knowledge she’s brought to the island. She opens the spellbooks she saved from fire and tries to help. Because remember, this is a magical world: Kiela’s skin and hair are both (naturally) blue. One of her new friends in town has antlers, and another the hindquarters of a horse. The island’s natural rhythms have been thrown off by an imbalance of magic, which is a political issue: the empire’s capitol keeping powers for itself and ceasing to care for its outlying islands like Caltrey. And then there’s Caz, a wonderful character, a wonderful researcher, Kiela’s devoted friend, and possessed of profound anxiety.

Even as I’m writing this review I’m realizing how many facets of this book I found intriguing. I loved the cozy community of Caltrey, both in its flora and fauna and cottages and bakery, and in its community-mindedness – imperfect, as ever we are, but still cozy. I loved the well-built fantasy element, the merhorses and winged cats and purple-swirling storm sky and Caz the spider plant, et al. I did appreciate Kiela’s character, however prickly and hapless she was up front; she has a background of both suffering and neurosis to explain her personality, and best of all, she experiences a real arc of change and growth throughout the book (while retaining, believably, some of her quirks). I loved Larran, and found their trajectory snuggly and loveable, if not complexly plotted. There was a political thread to the story, one that mostly passes Kiela by, at least in her former life: the empire’s power, helping only its urban and upper-class citizenry, what it allows the outer islands to suffer. Even the misapplication of magic that’s led to ever worsening storms is a thinly-clad metaphor for anthropogenic climate change. The politics are not front and center to this story, but I appreciate the sense that Kiela lives in a realistically complicated world, whether she chooses to engage with those parts of it or not – and, realistically, she finds that those elements touch her life and the lives of those she loves, regardless.

This was a really fun, absorbing adventure. I was sad when it ended, and I can’t wait to get my hands on the next related story. For the audio production, I thought narrator Caitlin Davies did a fine job acting and enunciating. I’m all in.


Rating: 8 cinnamon rolls.

A Power Unbound by Freya Marske

Same disclaimer as last time.

Well, it is early in the year for this, but I have possibly found the best book of the year. I am crazy about this Last Binding trilogy.

Book three, like the two before it, centers around one couple that makes a connection and then sizzles hot. But it also advances the world-level plot that’s been building in all three books: a group of powerful and power-hungry magicians, of the sort who hold enormous social capital, titles, and wealth as well as magic, aim to monopolize still further, stealing power from the bulk of magical humankind. It’s egregious, but very human of them. Our motley crew, which now comprises Violet, Maud, Robin, Edwin, Addie, Jack, and Alan, aims to stop them. But despite their combined riches in titles, wealth, magical power and expertise, smarts and pure scrappiness, our group pales in comparison to the established power of magical England. It’s grim, in fact.

Alongside the trilogy’s thread about magical power and threat to the world – with a growing sense of social justice, thanks not least of all to Alan’s contributions – and a delightful romantic-and-sexy thread with our third couple to take center stage, there is a growing sense that these friends are building something beautiful as a group. Several, or nearly all, of these protagonists considered themselves loners when the story began. One important but understated headline to A Power Unbound is that they are no longer alone, but members of the kind of built family that will take care of one another in the most important and profound ways.

I cannot understate how devastated I was to finish this book. I don’t remember the last time I was this sad about there being no more. I’m relieved to learn that Marske has two other novels, which you’ll hear from me about soon. But gosh. The Last Binding. I can’t believe I’m going to live without this group of funny, plucky, curious, hard-loving young people. Here in the first month of the year, I think this is the one to beat. All hail.


Rating: 10 cufflinks.

A Restless Truth by Freya Marske

As is my more-or-less usual practice, this review will contain spoilers for the book that preceded it in the series, but not so much for this book itself.

Book two was every bit as good as book one.

We’ve made a pretty thorough shift away from that cast of characters. Robin and Edwin are still there, but off-screen. In my review of that first book, I mentioned Robin’s beloved younger sister only as such, without even giving her name: that’s how minor a character she was there, but here, Maud stars. She has been assigned (at her own insistence) the duty of bringing back from America to Britain a most important Mrs. Navenby, member of the Forsythia Club alongside the now deceased (see book one) Flora Sutton. In the novel’s opening scene, we see Mrs. Navenby murdered, onboard the ship Lyric en route to London. This leaves Maud Blyth, under the pseudonym Maud Cutler, alone in her remaining task to bring home, if not the wisdom of Mrs. Navenby, at least her piece of the Last Contract. Unfortunately Maud does not even know what form that piece might take.

In short order, the enterprising if not terribly worldly “Miss Cutler” manages to enlist the help of Lord Hawthorn (who we met in book one) and a new acquaintance, Miss Violet Debenham, a thoroughly disgraced member of a good English family who has been living in New York and acting in the theatre (horrors), although she is now set to inherit from an also somewhat disgraced but very wealthy and now dead relative. Along the way to identifying and protecting or recovering Mrs. Navenby’s magical item (piece of the Last Contract), Maud’s crew will pick up a journalist who is also a jewel thief and pornography dealer. Maud takes a special interest in the pornography; she takes advantage of this voyage to become a little more worldly. The novel’s title comes in when her new lover must confront their own resistance to the vulnerability that comes with honesty – in contrast to Maud’s fanatical unwillingness to tell a lie. Whew.

A Restless Truth, like A Marvellous Light, excels at the fine details of historical setting, the meticulous building of this magical world, and the absolute rush of discovery that comes with good love and/or sex. I am breathless with anticipation for book three.


Rating: 9 parrots.

A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske

Billed as historical fantasy, with a strong thread of queer romance, this was an absolutely delightful and fun read – not always joyful in the moment-to-moment struggles of its protagonists (whom I loved), but ultimately deeply satisfying. There was romance (and sex), intrigue and angst, wonderful humor, and a complex magical world. I’m excited for book two, and beyond.

We first meet Reginald Gatling in his final moments, and witness his torture and death by magical means at the hands of assailants unknown. They want to know where something is, and all they get from him, past a secret-binding spell, is the location: his office. In the next chapter, we meet Sir Robert (Robin) Blyth, who is irritated and mystified by his new job replacing the missing Reggie – in Reggie’s office. (Here we also meet the indomitable Miss Morrissey, assistant to Reggie and now Robin. As both a woman and a person of Indian descent, she is exceedingly rare in British civil service, and will prove to be one of the most capable, awesome, and entertaining characters in this story, although a relatively minor one.) And in bursts Edwin Courcey, who had been Reggie’s special liaison and is now to be Robin’s, although they do not get off to a good start. For one thing, Robin has no idea what his job is supposed to be.

What quickly follows is Robin’s “unbusheling,” which is what the magical world calls it when a nonmagical person is let in on the big secret that magic does in fact exist. Turns out that in Britain’s already heavily stratified society, there is a yet another distinction between magical and nonmagical families, and even the former can have the odd, unfortunate nonmagical individual – like Miss Morrissey, whose sister is a very capable magician. And then there is Edwin, who comes from a powerful, wealthy, magical family, but is the bullied younger son, and though an enormously accomplished academic student of magic, has vanishingly little power of his own. Robin is an athlete, a jock, not a scholar, and though he has a title, his estate is nearly bankrupt, and he has a much-beloved younger sister to care for on his civil servant’s salary. Add to all of this the mystery of the missing Reggie, a curse soon (and violently) set upon the freshly unbusheled Robin, Edwin’s own family traumas, and an enigmatic threat to the magical world as we know it – indeed, maybe the world overall – and Edwin and Robin may need to figure out how to get along with each other even if it does not come naturally.

Phew. I’ll stop here, with much left unsaid. This was a completely absorbing, page-turning adventure, and when we finally got to the sex-and-romance (after a long slow burn) it was a great relief. (Fully realized sexual content, if that’s a concern.) This magical world and its rules are complex, even sometimes a bit overwhelming – but that’s Robin’s experience too, so we’re just wrestling with it all by his side, and will probably survive as he does.

This book is pretty heavily male, but I cannot understate the value of Miss Morrissey, who may not have magic but outdoes all the powerful men who surround her in cleverness and the ability to get things done, including some scathing (and hilarious) observations about gender in society. I would follow Miss Morrissey anywhere. Book two does promise to be centered on women, although (from a glance) unfortunately not Miss Morrissey. I’m still 100% in.


Rating: 9 swans.

The Midnight Bargain by C. L. Polk

As much as I loved the Kingston Cycle, it’s tempting to say this is my favorite Polk yet. I am really digging the combination of historical setting (including lots of lush clothing detail – not really my area but it’s surprising, richly enjoyable in Polk’s capable writing hands), romance and strong feeling, with a fantasy / speculative framing but around very approachable values. This author has mastered that combination, and it is extremely satisfying to this reader.

In this case, please meet Beatrice Clayborn, the elder daughter of a banker father who has squandered the family’s wealth, and a magician mother who has been collared, literally, so that she cannot practice magic. This is the cost of marriage for female practitioners in the culture Beatrice has been born into. Men have the opportunity to study and improve their practice; women are bound. Beatrice chafes at this rule; she has been practicing her magic in secret, searching for the coded grimoire that will allow her to become a mage. If she succeeds, she will make herself unmarriageable, thereby disappointing her father, but she will also be able to help him improve the family’s financial situation. If she fails, she will be married off to a man of her father’s choosing, collared, denied her true self. We are introduced to Beatrice on the cusp of the bargaining season: she is being presented to high society as an ingenue (read debutante), for the purpose of attracting a suitor (preferably several) and eventually an advantageous marital match.

Bargaining season involves all the primping (clothes! and maquillage), dancing, preening, and social chess you can possibly imagine. It is profoundly not Beatrice’s scene; but it is very much Harriet’s. Harriet is Beatrice’s younger sister, and although she can be a little hard on Beatrice’s nerves, she is also one of the elder sister’s greatest concerns. Beatrice knows that if she fails at bargaining season – if she reveals herself as a “difficult woman,” undesirable, fails to make a match – she will cost Harriet her own chance at the same. Harriet is actually good at these games, and likes them, and deserves her own shot. Beatrice needs to become a mage and prevent her own marriage – but not appear to fail at the social game. It’s complicated.

So she’s struggling to be attractive but not too attractive, and never objectionable (even when the most objectionable men are thrown at her, and even when they are unspeakably rude), and meanwhile she’s struggling to train herself to a very high level of magical performance – and she’s made a new enemy, who might be becoming a friend, and whose brother is interesting. Powerful, wealthy, gorgeous, a capable magician – and he shows a surprising capacity to listen to Beatrice’s opinions on women’s rights. But if Beatrice marries, even for love, even to a man of her own choosing, she will lose her magic forever. She might just wind up facing a lose/lose set of options. But what if there were another way?

I appreciate that Polk’s alt-historical setting feels accurate and real, and the issues at stake – women’s rights, mostly – are both modern and at home in her setting. (Feminism is not new, is it, nor the need.) And I guess part of the reason I find all those period-clothing details so interesting is that they are, in fact, about class and gender and those bargaining season politics. And maybe it’s just a little bit fun to read about the frills and lace and stomachers and fichus and other things I had to look up – I have no time for it in my real life, but part of the fun of reading is to experience other lives, isn’t it? At any rate. This novel was fun and wrenching and powerful and just absorbing, and I would read another twenty-five of them by this author; I hope they are writing furiously and keep doing it for a long time. What’s next??


Rating: 9 picnic baskets.

Even Though I Knew the End by C. L. Polk

I’m a big fan of C. L. Polk.

Even Though I Knew the End is romance amid magic and determinism wrapped in a PI novella. (It’s actually a bit of a much-less-dark cousin to last week’s Harmattan Season.) When we meet Helen Brandt, she’s in a Chicago alley attempting an augury, for which she’ll be paid a whopping $50, which she can add to the nest egg she’ll leave her beloved, Edith, on this their last weekend together. The murder she’s meant to investigate turns out much uglier than originally understood, and besides, her augury is interrupted by two members of the Brotherhood of the Compass, a sort of magical professional society from which she’s been barred. Oh and one of them is her long-lost brother (literal). Same-sex love in 1941 Chicago is a challenge unto itself (Helen has friends who have disappeared into insane asylums, for example), as is being a woman in that same setting. Add to that mix angels, demons, souls sold and stolen and earned back.

I loved the historical setting (but plus magic), and the queer speakeasy and community; I loved the femme fatale / gorgeous-but-dangerous-dame sort of character, and found Edith’s religious devotion an unexpected twist. Again (and in such a short time span for this reader) I met some classic or traditional elements of a noir tale, mixed up with new ones. I heard echoes of Chuck Wendig’s Miriam Black. But where Harmattan Season was grim, Polk offers hope – however bittersweet and limited – for a happier ending. As smoke-shadowed as this world is, Even Though I Knew the End is also deeply sweet in its romantic element.

I felt that those Polk shorts I read recently offered varied degrees of success with the shorter format – meaning, some felt a bit more complete or fully realized than others. Many writers, I’d venture, get trained in the novel-length form, and/or have the most reading experience in that length; masters of the short story seem fewer than masters at the novel. (Am I reaching? Do you agree?) I don’t know if that shorter form is harder, or just a place where we tend to get less experience. At any rate. If Polk was experimenting with highly enjoyable but imperfect success in those shorts, here I feel they have achieved something pretty perfect, fully realized, in these 133 pages. Which is not to say I don’t want more of Helen (and Edith) – I very much do. But Helen’s days were always numbered; maybe this is all we get.

Plenty gritty but still sweet, masterfully complete in a small package, with period detail and imaginative flair–I love this story and will follow Polk wherever they may lead next.


Rating: 9 perfect cups of coffee.

The Bookshop Below by Georgia Summers

This dark fantasy about the magic of books and the power of love is both heartrending and inspiring.

Georgia Summers (The City of Stardust) renders an enchanting world of self-sabotage, romance, deadly ink magic, and dearly beloved bookstores in her sophomore novel, The Bookshop Below. London was once full of shops where books and the magic they held could be exchanged for the priceless: self-extracted teeth, a lock of hair, a firstborn child. In contemporary times, the force that imbues books and bookshops with their power, through the particular magical workings of booksellers, is fading. Now Cassandra, a disgraced former bookseller, is drawn back into the life that exiled her, just in time to die along with the world she reveres–or, perhaps, to save it.

She’s been living as Cass Holt for years, getting by (and keeping her hands on the books she loves) in the most ignoble fashion: Cass is a book thief. She is also one of the most talented readers–wielders of the magic within enchanted books; now she sells that gift without scruples to whomever can pay. But Cass once had another name: “Cassandra Fairfax, named after a woman whose words melted into thin air no matter how truthful they were, with the surname of a character in disguise from a novel by a long-dead author. Layers upon layers of insubstantiality.”

Summers’s enchanting fantasy opens with Cassandra in great danger, called to return, reluctantly, to the bookshop where she was raised, trained, and then banished by her mentor, Chiron. She was once his protégé, destined to become an owner one day. Now, just as suddenly, she finds herself reinstated, struggling to rehabilitate Chiron’s decayed shop “and all its finicky, unpredictable moods.” She is in over her head, wrestling with her considerable guilt over past crimes against bookshops, against the underground river that powers the bookshop systems in ways Cassandra has yet to understand, and against Chiron himself. She is in danger from enemies who know about her deeds as Cass Holt, and whatever is threatening the bookshops. Cassandra must manage a bookseller she feels lucky to hire, a wonderfully capable woman named Byron; a handsome, magnetic rival named Lowell Sharpe; and the duty she feels to solve the mysteries of what happened to Chiron and why the magic bookshops are disappearing. Cassandra is not sure she wants to be here at all, let alone on the hook for saving everything she knows from destruction. But she feels she owes a debt. She finds she cares about people she never expected to. And she uncovers an enormous secret about her own origins that upends the stakes entirely.

The Bookshop Below offers a delicious combination of shadowy, sinister magic, wistful romance, propulsive action, and the utter reverence one holds for the right book. Summers excels at transporting her readers to a dreamy otherworld where anything is possible.


This review originally ran in the September 26, 2025 issue of Shelf Awareness for the Book Trade. To subscribe, click here.


Rating: 8 mugs that say “I slay comma splices.”

The Language of Ghosts by Heather Fawcett

With this, I have read all of Fawcett’s published books (although I do have Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter on preorder). Sad day.

The Language of Ghosts, offered for middle grade readers, continues to please. In the opening pages, young Noa is sorely grieving the recent death of her mother, queen of Florean. Her brother Julian is newly crowned king although just a teenager. Florean is an archipelago nation, long ruled by the Marchena family of which Julian is now the eldest. The Marchenas are all magicians, and Julian, like his mother, is a dark mage: this means that instead of speaking just one magical language (like most magicians in their realm), they have multiple languages. Julian is completely unique in that he can speak all nine. The Princess Noa, at eleven, is unique among the Marchenas for having no magic at all. In this opening scene, we find her dashing out of the banquet hall in tears at the presentation of their late mother’s favorite dessert (raspberry sundae). Hiding with her emotions in her closet that night, Noa is able to avoid the assassins who come to kill her and her little sister, five-year-old Mite; together the three siblings escape a violent coup in a small fishing boat and set up housekeeping on a new island. Whew.

Fast forward two years. Julian, a powerful magician but with very little think-first instinct, strategy, or perhaps even common sense, is much assisted by his younger sister Noa, who has no magic but lots of strategy, planning, and organizational skill. Cataloging, listing, and mapping are among her passions. Young Mite has two interests: insects and getting dirty. Well, and food. Operating as a king-in-exile with a small but important following, Julian both relies on Noa’s talents and also tends to discount her. Mite follows her around endlessly. The reader might surmise that the smallest Marchena has been through some trauma and finds constant contact with a sibling comforting; Noa is just annoyed.

Julian has enchanted the island of Astrae so that it moves, like a large ship, piloted by his loyal former-pirate captain Kell. They’ve been roaming the seas, taking back Florean one island at a time, but under constant threat by the usurper king, Xavier. Noa, the star of this story, is hard at work on two missions: to get her brother back on the throne where he belongs. And, privately, to prevent the dark magic he wields from turning him to darkness. The Marchenas discover that Xavier is on the hunt for a weapon that could take Julian down: one or more lost magical languages. Our young royal siblings know that they must get there first. Imagine everyone’s surprise when it turns out that, of all people, previously non-magical Noa is the only one who can speak the language of death. She is herself split between puffed-out pride at her new power, and a desperate desire to speak to her mother again. And to save Julian and the Florean kingdom, of course.

The Language of Ghosts showcases Fawcett’s best features. These are three rather ‘normal’ siblings, underneath all the magical and royal trappings: they have three distinct personalities and sets of skills and interests, and are experiencing different phases of childhood. They clash constantly but love each other dearly. Meanwhile, they dwell in a world that emphasizes Fawcett’s imaginative powers, with magical languages, dragons, illusions, sea monsters, betrayals, intrigue, and a wide array of wonderful cakes. Noa is engaged in learning some of the most important lessons of growing up, including the idea that even when we want the best for our loved ones, we can’t control them. I love the nuance Fawcett gives her young characters. Like the others, this is a book that manages to be funny and silly, heartfelt, harrowing, and wholesome. I would follow this author anywhere.


Rating: 8 mouthfuls of octopus pie (throwback to The Islands of Elsewhere).

Verity Vox and the Curse of Foxfire by Don Martin

This lovely book came to me from a Shelf Awareness review. I was hopeful that it will be right for one of my young friends next, especially with the Appalachian connection. And I think I was right!

The town of Foxfire, deep in the dark woods in a holler, is cursed. Following the withdrawal of the coal companies, struggling, the townspeople had made some deals with a traveling peddler who calls himself Earl. It started out innocently enough, but Earl’s prices were untraditional: one’s ability to see the color blue for fair weather. The hearing in one’s left ear for his horse to be healthy. A man’s jaw for some good canned vegetables. When the town pushes back against their tormentor, he takes his revenge. The bridge that connects the town to the rest of the world is destroyed, and attempts to rebuild it always fail. Animals sicken, food rots, the earth will no longer yield produce. The people seem doomed to despair and slow deaths, able neither to provide for themselves nor to leave.

Someone in Foxfire sends out a message.

And then the reader meets Verity Vox, a young witch in training, awaiting her next assignment. Her familiar, Jack-Be-Nimble (generally known as Jack), who normally appears as a black cat (sometimes a kitten) and sometimes as a black bull, a jaguar, a black rat, a crow (etc.), finds the message: “We’re cursed. Send help!” And Verity Vox goes to Foxfire.

Verity is young and still learning. Part of any witch’s training involves moving around: she can only stay in a place for one year, and then she must follow the signs to the next place she can help. Her powers and talents have come naturally to her; she is accustomed to easy success, and to being welcomed wherever she goes. People are glad to have her assistance. In Foxfire, however, things are different. The town got burned hard by the last magical being from whom they accepted ostensible help. And these hills can be a little insular. For the first time, her advances are unwelcome. Verity is perplexed; but she only wants to help, she keeps repeating. Her first reluctant customer (so to speak) keeps asking what she owes Verity, and Verity is baffled. Mistrust, it seems, is an unfamiliar concept.

So, Verity and the town have much to learn about each other. And then there is the pressing mystery of Earl – who he is, from where he draws his power, what it would take to rid Foxfire of his malice once and for all. Magic can do a lot, but there are still rules. For example, “tea… eluded even the most powerful of witches. It simply could not be rushed and every attempt to do so resulted in a brew that was bitter, bland, or box turtles.” Verity is very powerful. But there is much she doesn’t know yet about the world, and Earl is an unprecedented challenge, and the more she gets to know the people of Foxfire, the more she wants to improve their lot. There is a point where she thinks she will be able to offer them an escape, a literal exit from the place, and is surprised to learn that they don’t want to leave their home. More lessons to learn for our young witch protagonist, but she remains determined. “What was magic after all but having the gall to believe you could tell the world around you how it ought to be and then watching as it did as it was told?”

This is a beautiful story about learning and growing up, facing challenges, relationships formed with people and with place. The connection to Appalachia feels very special to me, and I have been telling everyone I know about it. The book is recommended for grade levels 10-12, although I see no reason not to give it to kids a little younger than that, and obviously it has enormous appeal for some of us adults, as well. Will be on the lookout for more from this author!


Rating: 8 candles.