dense, grounded, expansive - some chapters can run on a little long or read a bit dry, but worth reading for the descriptions of sea ice and arctic tundra alone. I can't stop thinking about this book, how quietly it articulates questions of place and perception, and how it doesn't attempt to untangle the thorniness of those questions. some of the best nature writing and ecocriticism I've read.
the first third is killer - wintery and atmospheric, with lush prose to match the folkloric tone, full of so many descriptions of ice and good red wool I wanted to curl up by a wood stove. just enough allusions to rumplestiltskin to feel familiar but with enough distance to be surprising. fun! the middle felt a little slow but didn't drag for me. the ending tied everything up very neatly in a way that felt tonally appropriate to fairy tales but maybe didn't have the depth or humanity of the earlier chapters. that said, this book went down real easy. I'd recommend it!
such a sharp writer on the line, but for me, the book never built to the promise of its prose. after 100 pages, the chapters began to blur together, and even a non-chronological structure didn't help to pull an overarching narrative out of her experience. some precise, poetic impressions, but failed to coalesce into anything more.
I have read and loved all of leigh bardugo's other novels, but ultimately, I enjoyed the concept of this book much more than its execution. maybe bardugo thought that, with enough orange blossom water, she could magic this book into something more compelling, but as is, it was just ok.
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