The Ten Thousand Doors of January, and the power of an engaging narrative
- Polly Angelova
- Jun 26, 2020
- 2 min read

I read The Ten Thousand Doors of January and The Starless Sea alongside each other, not realising how many similarities the two books would have. Now that I'm finished with both, my main though is that they would have worked well combined - I would have loved to have Zachary and Dorian jumping between different times and worlds, exploring the universe in pursuit of unravelling some greater mystery. Alas, the two books were separate, and this one, much like its counterpart, has its perks and shortcomings.
When I requested a copy of The Ten Thousand Doors of January from NetGalley (thanks guys!), I did not realise the story is set in the past during a time of racism, sexism and just all-around misery. This, I think, was the most off-putting aspect of the book for me. There is already so much of both in the real world, can we at least have fantasy where the conflict and suffering don't stem from the colour of someone's skin or their gender?
I did not care for January at all either. I know this is a strange thing to proclaim about the main character of a book you've finished and found okay, but she is an absolute doormat. (Or should I say Doormat? I'll see myself out.) I know it's established towards the end that her subdued nature was the result of Locke's mind control tricks, but it came too late in the narrative. I would have enjoyed some more backbone from her throughout the story - the way she was written had me rolling my eyes and skimming through paragraphs of her self-reflection.
What kept me hooked was the story of her parents, and the overall allure of the narrative. Who was closing the doors? Why? What was on the other side? As I mentioned earlier, it would have been awesome to see more of the different worlds, but I loved all the glimpses we did get, and the overarching idea that Doors bring change into each world and manifest themselves into stories and legends.
(See Erin Morgenstern, not so hard to make a philosophical point without twisting your reader's mind inro knots!)
I am also SO here for the idea of word-workers. Can I be one please? Aside from being such an amazing superpower to have, it's a great metaphor for the power of written word, books and stories. Which also ties in nicely with the fact that half of the narrative is a story within the story, and January is ultimately inspired to take action by her father's journal.
The ending is also very satisfying, it's left loosely open but with a clear direction of what may happen next with the characters. I can get behind this, and although I was tempted a couple of times to abandon the book, I'm glad I finished it.
3/5 stars
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