A review by readundancies
Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher

adventurous dark mysterious medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

5.0

So I stumbled upon T. Kingfisher last year with her novel The Hollow Ones and fell for her writing almost instantly. Love at first sight, ride or die, utterly consumed by every word she had put out into the universe when it came to that book. 

To the point where I was thinking she could very easily become a favourite author if I would just pull my head outta my ass and read more of her works because in my mind, I need to completely love at least 3 novels by an author before they can ascend to such status. 

Enter this story, and all of it’s fairy tale, folklore, and wonder, all of it’s sinister magic and haunting atmosphere that is peppered with moments of levity and personal struggle. 

And I fucking loved every bit of it. 

There is such beautiful imagery and Kingfisher’s wicked imagination comes at you full force with her delightful little demon hen and the equally terrifying curse-child. It’s gripping and creepy and dark and suspenseful and I hope she never stops writing. 

The characters are all fantastic, from Marra, born a princess but never meant to rule, to the oft exasperated dust-wife (see the synopsis mentioned gravewitch who should’ve never been alluded to as such because despite it’s accuracy, the term dust-wife just gives off such a better and mysterious ambience), to Agnes our favourite reluctant fairy godmother who wishes to give blessings when she’s much better at dealing in curses, to Fenris, the knight turned murderer turned captive turned charming protector. 

And then there’s Bonedog. 

Who’s the greatest dead dog made of bones you’ll ever meet in a book. 

This book is a fairy tale turned on it’s head, which is exactly what I want out of a story like this, and it bloody delivered. 

And so, because my words alone could never do justice to force you to pick up this book, here’s an excerpt: 

“What’s his name?” asked the dust-wife. 

Marra blinked at her. “Who?” 

“The dog, child! Dogs have human names. It’s what keeps them from being wolves.” 

“Uh … uh … Bonedog?” 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” 

“His name is Bonedog,” said Marra more firmly. In the yard, Bonedog rolled over and wiggled his backbone in the dust. 

“Imagination is not your strong suit, is it?” asked the dust-wife. A smile cracked the planes of her face. “That’s not an insult, child—don’t look so surly. For this sort of work, you want feet on the ground, not castles in the air.” 

The brown hen came around the side of the house, saw Bonedog, and advanced like a general leading a host. She pecked Bonedog’s tail and was rewarded with a ghostly yelp. Bonedog rolled to his feet, puzzled, and the hen ran off cackling in triumph. 

Now go and read it. 
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