Uprooted is Naomi Novik’s latest; she’s better known for the
Temeraire series, an alternate history where dragons are used as a flying corps
during the Napoleonic wars. But Uprooted is something else entirely; a
fairy-tale for a new age. It has a narrative that absolutely pulls no punches –
there’s darkness here, accentuated rather than hidden by the lyrical prose –
but there’s also truth. There’s characters that felt absolutely alive, and a
story that had me turning pages, wracked by highs and lows, desperate to see
how it all ended, and reluctant to finish it. Put simply, Novik’s put
together something really special.
The narrative begins, as is traditional, in a village on the
edge of nowhere. A happy village – the archetype of contentment. But as in all
good fairytales, something is awry – every ten years, a wizard who rules the
valley in which the village sits, claims one of the girls from the valley.
Nobody knows what for – but they do know that they don’t see the girls for the
next ten years, and when they return, they return changed, and move quickly
away.
If a wizard wasn’t enough to deal with, the village also
sits on the edge of The Wood (note the capitals). This brooding forest is a
centre of corruption in the valley’s midst. It draws people into it, and they
don’t come back. Or they do come back, horribly changed, bringing the
corruption of the Wood back with them.
Into this setting, this village trapped between the Wizard
and the Wood, walks the wonderfully named (and startlingly difficult to
pronounce) Agnieszka. As with all fairytale heroines, she’s something of an ingénue,
an innocent in her village. Prone to clumsiness and self-doubt. But she’s
willing enough to face the wizard when he comes to choose a girl to take away,
even though everyone knows that it’ll be her best friend who is taken instead.
Without getting into spoilers, it doesn’t quite work out
that way. The narrative quickly expands out from the choosing of the girls, into
a much wider fabric. If you’re drawn to plot heavy books, I can safely say that
a lot happens over the course of the text. The stakes are very quickly raised,
and each triumph from the characters seems like it’s followed by an even
greater potential for defeat. The text
does start at a bit of a slow burn, but it’s doing so to gather a variety of
threads to wrap you up in by the mid-point, into a second half where it was
almost impossible to put the book down out of a desire to know what happened
next.
So, this is a book where things happen – love, hate, murder,
heartbreak, jealousy, friendship, large battles, small victories – they’re all
here. They’re all also written extremely well. Novikhas clearly put her heart
into the prose – it’s sparkling with wit, dazzling with a kind of iconic
imagery which leaves the characters traced through your imagination on quiet
words of fire. But mostly, it has a feeling of truth, a feeling that the
characters on the pages are acting like people – they’re sometimes heroes,
sometimes arrogant swine, mule-headed or contradictory…and absolutely
real. Again, I won’t get into details
for fear of spoilers, but I will say that Agnieszka’s character arc, from
village innocent to, well, something else entirely, is smoothly and wonderfully
done. This is a protagonist with a strong sense of agency, where the character’s changes are organic,
believable, and thoroughly emotionally affecting. In truth, there were parts of
the book where I switched from outright laughter to near-tears in the course of
a couple of pages. Novik knows how to tug the heartstrings, but manages to do
so without schmaltz – the characters have this effect because they’re made real to the reader. That the prose can
have this effect is a sign of how well the characters are drawn, and how
well Novik’s text presents them.
Uprooted is, at heart, a fairy tale. A story of magic,
mystery and wonder. Of coming-of-age. Of Princes, castles and kings. But make
no mistake, it also wants to talk about the darker side of the fairy tale
narrative. Monsters. Murders. The occasional gruesome demise. The creeping
terror that drives a person to heroics. This is the side of the fairy tale
where every action has a consequence, where magic always has a price to be
paid. Novik manages to merge these two aspects together seamlessly, and that
fusion is what makes the narrative such a joy to read. Absolutely, entirely, without reservation,
recommended.
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