Sorcery of Thorns, and the (literal) power of books
- Polly Angelova
- Sep 3, 2020
- 6 min read
I've read a bunch of books about books, two of them only a couple of months ago, but none of them capture the magic quite so well as Sorcery of Thorns. What sounds like a whimsical, swashbuckling adventure set in a High Fantasy world actually turns into a profound, inclusive, tongue-in-cheek exploration about the power of knowledge, and the need to question what society teaches us.
The world of Austermeer is fantastic in and of itself. Rogerson masterfully weaves in details that set the scene and give us an idea of how everything works, skilfully avoiding the common High Fantasy pitfall of flooding your brain with made-up terms you'd need half the book to remember. Every bit about the world building feels natural, seamlessly integrated into the progression of the narrative, and within a few chapters I felt like I knew everything I needed, sans the headache.
Fairly early on we're introduced to the Great Libraries - the magnificent knowledge hubs of the kingdom where all the magical texts (grimoires) are kept - as well as the way these libraries are run. Elisabeth, an apprentice, longs to be a warden one day, and protect the book she so loves, although a seemingly throwaway comment from her mentor tell us that by the end of the story she would come to change her mind.
'All sorcerers are evil,' a statement helpfully supplied at the very start of the book synopsis, accurately summarises the attitude of Austermeer's citizens; the distrust even more prominent amongst those working in the Great Libraries. It's not really a spoiler to say the story proves us wrong - it's a pretty obvious conclusion for anyone who's read more than two books in their life. The proof comes in the form of sassy Nathaniel Thorn (see what Margaret did there?) and his trusted demon Silas, who team up with our heroine to uncover the culprit behind a series of sabotages in various Libraries.
Even if you're simply coming to Sorcery of Thorns for the fantasy adventure, you'd be more than satisfied with this book. But there's so much more to the story than the plot. There's mischievous humour which pushes the boundaries of a YA rating without actually being explicitly naughty. There's an incredibly rewarding character growth from Elisabeth, some casual LGBTQ+ representation from a main character, and, of course, the beautifully delivered message about making up your own mind about the world.
Okay, about to jump into spoilers folks, now is your chance to look away if you want to keep the story's surprises, well, surprising.
I absolutely adore all the key characters in Sorcery of Thorns, but I'll begin with our protagonist. Elisabeth starts off as you typical naive main character who has guts despite her obviously limited life philosophy. There were a couple of instances early on when I was physically rolling my eyes at her obliviousness, when the answers were glaringly obvious, but she's still extremely likeable despite her shortcoming, and in fairness she did grow up with certain beliefs being drilled into her brain, so I gave her time to grow.
And boy, did she grow! It was incredibly satisfying to watch as Elisabeth's prejudices slowly started to crumble, and through necessity as much as conscious desire to challenge her worldview she wriggled out of the confines of what she's been taught, transforming into a fierce young woman with a mind of her own.
She now understood that the world wasn’t kind to young women, especially when they behaved in ways men didn’t like, and spoke truths that men weren’t ready to hear.
Despite being shamelessly gaslit by the villain of the story and seeing the world as she knows it fall apart around her, Elisabeth ploughs on, determined that she must do everything in her power to expose the evildoers before the world falls apart. I'm not going to lie, where were a couple of situations in which I, myself, might have given up if I were in her shoes, but our brave heroine stops at nothing.
There is always more than one way to see the world. Those who claim otherwise would have you dwell forever in the dark.
There is a powerful message in Elisabeth's character arch about the power of books and knowledge. She is a child of the Library, this world's fantasy embodiment of every book lover, and as such she understands the grimoires in a way that others don't. She knows that books are more than paper and ink - that they have souls, and the wisdom contained in them holds power equal to any sorcery. As well as being a very poetic argument for reading, this also ties in with the plot in a tangible way, making the metaphor even more satisfying.
Then there is Nathaniel Thorn, my new favourite fantasy man. He's a cheeky sorcerer with a lot of responsibility, somewhat of a reputation and a demon that puts all five Queer Eye guys to shame with his ministrations. Oh, and let's not forget, a dark and powerful family legacy trailing him from a young age.
Very early on, we learn the logistics of magic through watching him fight, and honestly, I was chuffed that his powers have limitations. One of the most tired High Fantasy tropes, in my opinion, is having your main characters be incredibly overpowered, and easily able to smash through any plot obstacles because magic.
This is why I was especially delighted to see the author's spin on sorcery, and found a couple of nerdy parallels between the rules of spell-casting in this world and Dungeons & Dragons. Nathaniel needs time to concentrate on his spells and perform them, instead of spontaneously whipping them out when needed. Plus, his sorcery tank gets depleted after a point, so he needs to rest or draw power from his demon before he can cast more. It's all super logical and I love the though that went into it.
“I’m not decent,” she explained, hugging her arms to her chest. “That’s all right,” he replied. “I hardly ever am, myself.”
Perhaps one of my favourite things about Nathaniel is his unabashed sass. Despite having been through some messed up shit in his past, the young Thorn doesn't come with a severe case of the grouch as many fantasy male characters tend to do (from the Beast from Disney's classic to the Witcher, you can take your pick - the fantasy world is full to the brim with them).
Luckily, Rogerson didn't veer too far in the opposite direction either. While I love flamboyant casters such as one Magnus Bane, it was quite refreshing to have a magic user who doesn't take himself too seriously without turning everything into a joke. It also didn't hurt that Nathaniel's brand of humour is so closely aligned with my own.
“I like girls too, Scrivener.” Amusement danced in Nathaniel’s eyes. “I like both. If you’re going to fantasize about my love life, I insist you do so accurately.”
This line, following an admission that Thorn fancied the prince, literally had me exclaiming 'Yes!', complete with a fist pump and everything. Having a prominent character I already love rep the bisexual team is literally fantasy novel goals. I've already raved about the increase of representation in literature, but it always brings me joy to see non-heterosexual characters inserted into narratives without it being the focal point, especially when they are the hero of the story.
I want to open a bracket here for a couple of other non-heterosexual mentions. Elisabeth's best friend, Katrien, is clearly presented as asexual, and so is Silas, Nathaniel's demon, breaking the stereotype of overly promiscuous otherworldly creatures. And, what makes me nearly as happy as the representation itself is the casual attitude our heroine has about varied sexuality or lack-thereof.
Speaking of Silas, everyone's favourite demon butler who is also sometimes an adorable cat, I dare say he was as prominent a character as the two human protagonists. Embodying the trigger for Elisabeth's subverted expectations of the world, he is painfully honest about his nature, and does not play games with our heroine or try to conceal the selfish motivations behind his involvement with Nathaniel.
Despite all that nonsense, we know part of him truly cares for his young master Thorn, and we shake our heads lovingly along with Elisabeth as she comes to suspect there's more to Silas than he gives himself credit for. While the demon's philosophy is very much 'If someone shows you who they are, believe them,' Elisabeth (and us readers) prefer to look beyond the surface - much like not judging books by their cover, if you will. (I'll see myself out).
We are, of course, proven right when the big showdown of the story ends with the powerful otherworldly being sacrifice trope. In a final desperate gambit Elisabeth frees Silas from his bounds, despite the destructive potential he's warned her about, and we see the power of the bond between him and Nathaniel in action. Overcoming his primal demonic nature, Silas takes the monster down with him, proving that our heroine's faith in him was not misplaced after all.
(Fear not, it's implied at the end of the Epilogue that he is well and ready to make a return.)
On top of all the wisdom already imparted on us by this fantastic novel, the parting message is a solid reassurance that it's okay not to have your whole life figured out. I mean sure, it does help to be dating a rich ex-sorcerer, but the focus is definitely on making your own path in the world instead of following a predetermined one.
5/5 stars
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