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A review by puckiety
The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo
adventurous
challenging
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
I read the most vapid negative review of this book elsewhere and had to immediately go to my computer and write up my own review in the novel's defense.
The Familiar is a speculative historical fiction novel, first and foremost. There are shades of fantasy and romance, of course (Leigh Bardugo's specialty, in my opinion) but I wouldn't call this a historical fantasy novel. I'd call it historical magical realism, maybe, or the love child of history and fairy tale. Magic is at the heart of the story, but men are what drive it—politicians, priests, nobles. Greed, desire, ambition, fear. It is the Spanish Golden Age, and our heroine is a (socially) powerless kitchen scullion living a lie.
Luzia may not be likable to everyone who reads this book. She is complex and often contradictory. She tells herself she is content to sleep on the dirt floor, but hungers for more. I think some people might point at her as an example of another not-like-other-girls protagonist, but I don't think that's the case. I think it makes her more human; we lie to ourselves. We want things we shouldn't. We push onward, upward, even when we're doomed.
Perhaps most importantly, Luzia is Jewish.
Though she converted to Catholicism at a young age (this is the era of the Inquisition, after all), Luzia still lives in fear that her heritage will be discovered; because even though she has converted, in the eyes of Spain she is still a heretic. At the same time, her heritage is the source of her magic, which she casts by singing Ladino refranes. In the same way that she cannot stop herself from using her magic despite the danger it might mean if she is caught, she cannot fully suppress her heritage. She can hide (or try to hide) who she is from the world, but she cannot hide from herself. I'm not Jewish, so I may be entirely off the mark here, but back to the fairy tale aspect I mentioned earlier: Luzia feels as much a metaphor for the Jewish Diaspora as she does a well-rounded character. As Bardugo says in her Author's Note:
The Familiar is a speculative historical fiction novel, first and foremost. There are shades of fantasy and romance, of course (Leigh Bardugo's specialty, in my opinion) but I wouldn't call this a historical fantasy novel. I'd call it historical magical realism, maybe, or the love child of history and fairy tale. Magic is at the heart of the story, but men are what drive it—politicians, priests, nobles. Greed, desire, ambition, fear. It is the Spanish Golden Age, and our heroine is a (socially) powerless kitchen scullion living a lie.
Luzia may not be likable to everyone who reads this book. She is complex and often contradictory. She tells herself she is content to sleep on the dirt floor, but hungers for more. I think some people might point at her as an example of another not-like-other-girls protagonist, but I don't think that's the case. I think it makes her more human; we lie to ourselves. We want things we shouldn't. We push onward, upward, even when we're doomed.
Perhaps most importantly, Luzia is Jewish.
Though she converted to Catholicism at a young age (this is the era of the Inquisition, after all), Luzia still lives in fear that her heritage will be discovered; because even though she has converted, in the eyes of Spain she is still a heretic. At the same time, her heritage is the source of her magic, which she casts by singing Ladino refranes. In the same way that she cannot stop herself from using her magic despite the danger it might mean if she is caught, she cannot fully suppress her heritage. She can hide (or try to hide) who she is from the world, but she cannot hide from herself. I'm not Jewish, so I may be entirely off the mark here, but back to the fairy tale aspect I mentioned earlier: Luzia feels as much a metaphor for the Jewish Diaspora as she does a well-rounded character. As Bardugo says in her Author's Note:
Refranes are essential to Ladino and a vital way the language lives on. It's difficult to know precisely where and when such sayings originated, but the chance that these refranes existed in this particular form, in this particular era, is unlikely. They cross oceans and miles to find Luzia, and I found it acceptable to let them cross time as well (emphasis mine).
Again, my knowledge isn't broad or deep enough to form a really good argument about this, but something something being connected by Judaism even while physically separated by the Diaspora. Do you see where I'm going with this.
The review that spawned this long rant complained that the novel doesn't seem to know or care how Luzia practices her magic, that it just inconsistently provides her with whatever is convenient for the plot. I don't think that's the case. I think it's clear that Luzia is pulling from her heritage, from some sort of collective memory—maybe sayings she heard her mother use, maybe something caught on the wind and carried all the way to Madrid. I don't think Bardugo needs to hand that explanation to us on a silver platter, as again, this is speculative fiction, but she does. In the above Author's Note.
Anyway, regardless of all that, I loved the rest of this book, too. Interesting side characters (as always, the women in Bardugo's books contain depth and richness), a romance that was right up my alley (though your mileage may vary), and an ending that had me re-reading the last two pages over and over in the hopes of burning them into my memory. I won't include them here—spoilers!—but they are what truly entrenched this novel as a fairy or folk tale to me. I'm not going to pretend this would be to everyone's tastes, but I think if you approach as what it is and not as a YA romantasy, you'll have a good time.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Religious bigotry
Moderate: Torture
Minor: Sexual assault