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A review by siavahda
Half-Witch by John Schoffstall
5.0
Half-Witch, Half-Witch, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
*happy sigh*
Genuinely, though, I have no idea where or how I found this book. I can find no mention of it on my favourite book blogs, so presumably none of them recommended it to me. My friends have never heard of it. It appeared on none of the newsletters I subscribe to. Where did it come from? Did I just happen to stumble through the wardrobe while browsing Amazon and come upon it by pure chance? Did I wake up one morning with it already waiting for me on my ereader? Did the Pixie Queen descend from on high in her dolphin-drawn clamshell-carriage and present it to me, then wipe my memory?
I have no clue. And that air of mystery and subtle magic is perfect appropriate, because I'm not sure I've ever read anything so...so...
Words fail me.
In a lot of ways, Half-Witch reminds me of Catherynne Valente's The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, and if you've ever been subject to my impassioned do you have time to talk about our lady and saviour Catherynne M Valente rhapsody, you'll know that's high praise indeed. There's some stylistic differences - Half-Witch is written in third-person, Girl has an omniscient narrator talking directly to the reader, and Valente's September is far more like Strix than she is Lizbet, Half-Witch's main character - but in some fundamental ways they're very similar. They're both allegedly middle-grade books that are deep and clever and beautiful enough to gut-punch adults too (maybe even gut-punch adults harder than they do younger readers); they both follow young girls discovering they can be (or already are) far more than they thought they could be. They both read like fairytales for the modern age, capturing some elusive, ancient, indescribably mythopoeic quality while telling stories that are like nothing you've ever come across before. They're both pure magic.
But Half-Witch is darker. Not so dark that I wouldn't give it to my little sister - I plan on putting a copy in her hands the first chance I get - but dark enough that I might have hesitated to give it to her a few years ago. And - I think this is important - dark enough to be exactly what I needed right now.
I love Valente and I always will; I will never stop loving her Fairyland series. And it's not that her Fairyland doesn't have its own painful revelations too. But...Half-Witch is the book I needed right now. It's a fairytale for those of us who are tired and bruised inside and can't face, at the moment, the stories that sparkle and glitter. I don't know how to put this without sounding like Fairyland is anything but the rich and complex series it is. Fairyland is not fluffy. But it's too obviously bright and hopeful and full of wonder for me to take when I don't have the strength to believe in it. When I'm tired and hurting and can't figure out how to wash the cynicism from my eyes.
That's where Half-Witch comes in. Because it's not a depressing book. Not at all! But it is a story I could trust, and follow, and believe in, all the way through the darkness and out the other side. It's a story that, honestly, almost tricks you into feeling hope again, believing in the world again. It's a story that acknowledges and doesn't flinch away from how unbelievably awful and terrifying things can be, how low you can fall, how hopeless everything can sometimes seem - and then shows you how to grit your teeth and snarl and fight your way back up, not with violence but with the sheer, teeth-bared determination to be good, and do good, and make things right. It's a story that reminds us that goodness is not bloodless, but neither is it bloodthirsty. It's a story about learning to be brave, and clever, and standing up for yourself and your friends; about being terrified beyond belief and Doing It Anyway.
It's also wickedly clever and subtly sneaky and full of references to or ideas pulled from older stories or myths, reworked in truly incredible ways. The worldbuilding is freaking amazing. It made me laugh far more than once; it made me gleeful; it had me glued to the pages and literally breathless multiple times. It's gross and beautiful and soft and sharp, part nightmare and part dream and all unputdown-able. It's the perfect, perfect, perfect fairytale-esque story the world needs at right this moment.
So I don't know how or where you found it, what path led you to this book (and this review). But it did not lead you wrong.
*happy sigh*
Genuinely, though, I have no idea where or how I found this book. I can find no mention of it on my favourite book blogs, so presumably none of them recommended it to me. My friends have never heard of it. It appeared on none of the newsletters I subscribe to. Where did it come from? Did I just happen to stumble through the wardrobe while browsing Amazon and come upon it by pure chance? Did I wake up one morning with it already waiting for me on my ereader? Did the Pixie Queen descend from on high in her dolphin-drawn clamshell-carriage and present it to me, then wipe my memory?
I have no clue. And that air of mystery and subtle magic is perfect appropriate, because I'm not sure I've ever read anything so...so...
Words fail me.
In a lot of ways, Half-Witch reminds me of Catherynne Valente's The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, and if you've ever been subject to my impassioned do you have time to talk about our lady and saviour Catherynne M Valente rhapsody, you'll know that's high praise indeed. There's some stylistic differences - Half-Witch is written in third-person, Girl has an omniscient narrator talking directly to the reader, and Valente's September is far more like Strix than she is Lizbet, Half-Witch's main character - but in some fundamental ways they're very similar. They're both allegedly middle-grade books that are deep and clever and beautiful enough to gut-punch adults too (maybe even gut-punch adults harder than they do younger readers); they both follow young girls discovering they can be (or already are) far more than they thought they could be. They both read like fairytales for the modern age, capturing some elusive, ancient, indescribably mythopoeic quality while telling stories that are like nothing you've ever come across before. They're both pure magic.
But Half-Witch is darker. Not so dark that I wouldn't give it to my little sister - I plan on putting a copy in her hands the first chance I get - but dark enough that I might have hesitated to give it to her a few years ago. And - I think this is important - dark enough to be exactly what I needed right now.
I love Valente and I always will; I will never stop loving her Fairyland series. And it's not that her Fairyland doesn't have its own painful revelations too. But...Half-Witch is the book I needed right now. It's a fairytale for those of us who are tired and bruised inside and can't face, at the moment, the stories that sparkle and glitter. I don't know how to put this without sounding like Fairyland is anything but the rich and complex series it is. Fairyland is not fluffy. But it's too obviously bright and hopeful and full of wonder for me to take when I don't have the strength to believe in it. When I'm tired and hurting and can't figure out how to wash the cynicism from my eyes.
That's where Half-Witch comes in. Because it's not a depressing book. Not at all! But it is a story I could trust, and follow, and believe in, all the way through the darkness and out the other side. It's a story that, honestly, almost tricks you into feeling hope again, believing in the world again. It's a story that acknowledges and doesn't flinch away from how unbelievably awful and terrifying things can be, how low you can fall, how hopeless everything can sometimes seem - and then shows you how to grit your teeth and snarl and fight your way back up, not with violence but with the sheer, teeth-bared determination to be good, and do good, and make things right. It's a story that reminds us that goodness is not bloodless, but neither is it bloodthirsty. It's a story about learning to be brave, and clever, and standing up for yourself and your friends; about being terrified beyond belief and Doing It Anyway.
It's also wickedly clever and subtly sneaky and full of references to or ideas pulled from older stories or myths, reworked in truly incredible ways. The worldbuilding is freaking amazing. It made me laugh far more than once; it made me gleeful; it had me glued to the pages and literally breathless multiple times. It's gross and beautiful and soft and sharp, part nightmare and part dream and all unputdown-able. It's the perfect, perfect, perfect fairytale-esque story the world needs at right this moment.
So I don't know how or where you found it, what path led you to this book (and this review). But it did not lead you wrong.