Beautiful cover on this book, btw–actually has a very similar color scheme to The Bright Sword, which I felt had similar ¬vibes¬ so maybe someone decided at book publishing club that all books about British Fair Folk and the tug between the real world and the shine of the fae should be a blue toned vibe? That being said, while that book is just blue, this book has a gorgeous, evocative cover that weaves together all the various themes of the novel–little Felicity on the bottom left, older Felicity on the right, both of them instantly distinguishable by their fire red hair but unaware, buried in a book. They’re settled against trees on the edge of rolling fields, their childhood farmhouse home in the distance. And above it all, entwined with the forest, looking beautiful and looming, is Elfrida, the Queen of the troupe of Fair Folk in the woods nearest Felicity, whose presence and actions turn the wheel of this eldritch, moving book.
We begin this book when Felicity is eight, forever running away into the forest despite her parents’ attempts to keep her occupied with chores and fence her in with wire. She has a blanket and a book, and patience, and it’s rewarded (albeit sporadically, without much rhyme or reason) with visits with the Folk. There, she’s not the scrawny, nerdy daughter of a failing farm that really needed a son, bullied at school and misunderstood by her parents. She’s beautiful, and part of the fun and a co-conspirator in the mischief. Even though she knows–everyone knows–that the Fair Folk are not to be trusted, Felicity begs again and again to be allowed to stay, to be allowed to return, promising anything and everything.
Eventually we’ve flipped forward–Felicity is an undergrad now, studying folklore at Cambridge, and has a secret only she can know: whenever they choose, Elfrida (and her trusty sidekick Hob) can pop up and experience life with her. And while you’d think this an inconvenience, Felicity can’t help but think of how much grander and richer things are in the faerie world, how much more vibrant and…shiny, really, all things are.
I’m doing a really terrible job of providing the right amount of plot context for this novel, so I’ll stop short and try instead to describe the themes and issues that it struggles with. Felicity, all of 22, struggles with how to live and thrive and enjoy the real world after having been given a glimpse of the wonders that exist just beyond, where you never have to worry and everything is always provided for. Once could compare it, perhaps, to a semi-kicked drug habit, wherein she can’t really understand why, if it’s under control, she needs to stop. She can stop at any point, after all, never mind that Elfrida has a mind of her own and Felicity knows its not a mind she has understood. And there are entire stretches of time where, enveloped in first loves and books and studying and friends who actually understand her, Felicity doesn’t even think about Them.
But there’s also a worrying thread–that Felicity, naive to the world, is too innocent and trusting of those around her. Elfrida cares for her, right? Yes, and then no, and then yes, and then no, until even we as readers are uncertain. Who’s the ones to trust, when the world is cold and uncaring and even downright awful at times? Would you take the opportunity to leave it all behind for a permanently sunlit kingdom beyond, even if you didn’t know what exactly that entailed? Does it matter if you make the choice entirely of your own will?
For how much I liked this book, this review sounds like…well, it sounds like I’ve been faerie bewitched. And perhaps I have 🙂