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A review by foggy_rosamund
The Councillor by E.J. Beaton
5.0
I was lucky enough to read an advanced copy of this book.
In a world where family connections mean everything, Lysande, an orphan, is nobody. Until, that is, she taken from her orphanage by Sarelin Brey, the queen, and chosen to become part of her household. From a young age, Lysande is obsessed with writing and study, and Sarelin encourages her to be a scholar. As she grows up, Lysande juggles her scholarly work with advising Sarelin and following political intrigues within her country of Elira. But following Sarelin’s poisoning and sudden death, Lysande’s world is upturned, and not just by grief. Sarelin has entrusted a vital and terrifying duty to Lysande: she is appointed Councillor, and must choose which of the five rulers of the city-states will be placed on the throne.
This novel grips the reader from the very beginning. Lysande is a character who truly shines and captures our attention completely. Although she prefers to be by herself in the library, she is no wallflower: she is determined, courageous, and tough as nails, not allowing the complex politics of Elira to get the better of her. Though reluctant at first, Lysande quickly comes to thrive in her role as Councillor, learning to make rapid decisions and weigh up her allies and enemies,. Her insights are vital, as the realm comes under further attack at the hands of the magical White Queen, an old enemy whom Sarelin Brey thought she had defeated for good.
The world of Elira is rich and detailed, and refreshingly populated by queer characters and characters of colour. Though birth and aristocracy matter hugely in the story, there is no discrimination based on gender, sexual orientation, or skin colour. This means that marriages between two queens or two princes are possible, and much of the political power rests with women. As well as giving space to powerful and politically savvy women, the novel also challenges concepts of toxic masculinity: in this world, it’s not shameful for men to allow women to take the lead, and they don’t have to take on a dominant role in relationships. Men can equally enjoy perfumes and beautiful clothes, and like to be pampered. By not only allowing women a central role, but also giving male characters space to express themselves in different ways, Beaton points out the inequality in our own society much more shrewdly and successfully than other writers of feminist fantasy.
Lysande is a refreshing characters in lots of ways: though she wants to overturn inequality in her society, she is a flawed person, working in a world that’s trying to squeeze her out. Magical people in Elira are routinely killed, and though Lysande knows this is wrong, she struggles to find ways to stop it. Growing up an orphan, she has witnessed poverty and loss, but, even though she has some political power as the Councillor, she quickly realises how hard it is to make lasting change. Lysande constantly has to compromise, and to weigh up what she can do to promote the most good, without ever truly knowing who her allies are. She’s also impetuous, quick to throw herself into danger, and throughout the novel she’s in the midst of grief, following the death of Sarelin, and her realisation that Sarelin was not the perfect queen Lysande long believed her to be. All this complexity makes Lysande a very memorable and believable character.
This novel also deals with the issue of addiction with care and nuance, something I’ve never seen in a fantasy novel before. Lysande routinely takes “scale”, a drug that seems to be somewhat similar to cocaine in impact, but is made from the ground-up scales of magical creatures called chimeras. Though the scale causes unpleasant side-effects, Lysande takes small quantities daily, and craves the clarity of through and calm the drug brings her. Beaton captures how Lysande incorporates the drug into her daily functioning, and never reduces her personality to “drug addict”: important representation, given how often narratives reduce substance-abusers to nothing more than their addiction. This nuanced take gives the novel an additional dimension.
I recommend The Councillor to anyone who enjoys Machiavellian politics, morally grey characters, and stories about the ways in which we come to compromise ourselves, no matter how idealistic we may be. It’s refreshingly free from tropes about “chosen ones” or “destiny”: instead, it’s a story about the ways in which our life experiences shape us, and how strength of character and hard work are more important than anything that is handed to us. It’s a moving, gripping and complex story, and a really exciting debut. I look forward to more from this world!
In a world where family connections mean everything, Lysande, an orphan, is nobody. Until, that is, she taken from her orphanage by Sarelin Brey, the queen, and chosen to become part of her household. From a young age, Lysande is obsessed with writing and study, and Sarelin encourages her to be a scholar. As she grows up, Lysande juggles her scholarly work with advising Sarelin and following political intrigues within her country of Elira. But following Sarelin’s poisoning and sudden death, Lysande’s world is upturned, and not just by grief. Sarelin has entrusted a vital and terrifying duty to Lysande: she is appointed Councillor, and must choose which of the five rulers of the city-states will be placed on the throne.
This novel grips the reader from the very beginning. Lysande is a character who truly shines and captures our attention completely. Although she prefers to be by herself in the library, she is no wallflower: she is determined, courageous, and tough as nails, not allowing the complex politics of Elira to get the better of her. Though reluctant at first, Lysande quickly comes to thrive in her role as Councillor, learning to make rapid decisions and weigh up her allies and enemies,. Her insights are vital, as the realm comes under further attack at the hands of the magical White Queen, an old enemy whom Sarelin Brey thought she had defeated for good.
The world of Elira is rich and detailed, and refreshingly populated by queer characters and characters of colour. Though birth and aristocracy matter hugely in the story, there is no discrimination based on gender, sexual orientation, or skin colour. This means that marriages between two queens or two princes are possible, and much of the political power rests with women. As well as giving space to powerful and politically savvy women, the novel also challenges concepts of toxic masculinity: in this world, it’s not shameful for men to allow women to take the lead, and they don’t have to take on a dominant role in relationships. Men can equally enjoy perfumes and beautiful clothes, and like to be pampered. By not only allowing women a central role, but also giving male characters space to express themselves in different ways, Beaton points out the inequality in our own society much more shrewdly and successfully than other writers of feminist fantasy.
Lysande is a refreshing characters in lots of ways: though she wants to overturn inequality in her society, she is a flawed person, working in a world that’s trying to squeeze her out. Magical people in Elira are routinely killed, and though Lysande knows this is wrong, she struggles to find ways to stop it. Growing up an orphan, she has witnessed poverty and loss, but, even though she has some political power as the Councillor, she quickly realises how hard it is to make lasting change. Lysande constantly has to compromise, and to weigh up what she can do to promote the most good, without ever truly knowing who her allies are. She’s also impetuous, quick to throw herself into danger, and throughout the novel she’s in the midst of grief, following the death of Sarelin, and her realisation that Sarelin was not the perfect queen Lysande long believed her to be. All this complexity makes Lysande a very memorable and believable character.
This novel also deals with the issue of addiction with care and nuance, something I’ve never seen in a fantasy novel before. Lysande routinely takes “scale”, a drug that seems to be somewhat similar to cocaine in impact, but is made from the ground-up scales of magical creatures called chimeras. Though the scale causes unpleasant side-effects, Lysande takes small quantities daily, and craves the clarity of through and calm the drug brings her. Beaton captures how Lysande incorporates the drug into her daily functioning, and never reduces her personality to “drug addict”: important representation, given how often narratives reduce substance-abusers to nothing more than their addiction. This nuanced take gives the novel an additional dimension.
I recommend The Councillor to anyone who enjoys Machiavellian politics, morally grey characters, and stories about the ways in which we come to compromise ourselves, no matter how idealistic we may be. It’s refreshingly free from tropes about “chosen ones” or “destiny”: instead, it’s a story about the ways in which our life experiences shape us, and how strength of character and hard work are more important than anything that is handed to us. It’s a moving, gripping and complex story, and a really exciting debut. I look forward to more from this world!