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A review by orionmerlin
Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson
adventurous
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
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? Yes
3.75
Characters – 8/10
Elisabeth is a chaotic sword-wielding book gremlin and honestly? I respect the hustle. She starts out rigid and sheltered, but her arc into someone who questions everything she’s been taught is satisfying—even if it’s a bit accelerated. She’s not the most complex protagonist I’ve ever met, but she’s got enough heart and agency to carry the story. Nathaniel is the real scene-stealer: emotionally wrecked, magically overpowered, and constantly deflecting with sarcasm like he gets paid by the snark. I was less impressed with their romance (a little sudden, a little tropey), but it grew on me. And Silas? If he isn’t already in your top five magical familiars of all time, we’re reading different books. His arc hit harder than I expected. Secondary characters were more functional than vivid—Katrien existed mainly to say “science!” and disappear—but the core trio had real spark.
Elisabeth is a chaotic sword-wielding book gremlin and honestly? I respect the hustle. She starts out rigid and sheltered, but her arc into someone who questions everything she’s been taught is satisfying—even if it’s a bit accelerated. She’s not the most complex protagonist I’ve ever met, but she’s got enough heart and agency to carry the story. Nathaniel is the real scene-stealer: emotionally wrecked, magically overpowered, and constantly deflecting with sarcasm like he gets paid by the snark. I was less impressed with their romance (a little sudden, a little tropey), but it grew on me. And Silas? If he isn’t already in your top five magical familiars of all time, we’re reading different books. His arc hit harder than I expected. Secondary characters were more functional than vivid—Katrien existed mainly to say “science!” and disappear—but the core trio had real spark.
Atmosphere / Setting – 8.5/10
This book’s setting is a bibliophile’s fever dream: ancient magical libraries, living books that bite, elegant carriages, secret demon circles—it’s all here and drenched in Gothic coziness. Rogerson knows how to conjure a mood, and it shows. The Great Libraries in particular were stunning: creepy and whimsical in equal measure. I wanted more depth in the worldbuilding (we never get a great sense of the broader magical system or politics), but the scenes themselves were so vivid I mostly didn’t care. The atmosphere carried the story even when the plot stumbled.
This book’s setting is a bibliophile’s fever dream: ancient magical libraries, living books that bite, elegant carriages, secret demon circles—it’s all here and drenched in Gothic coziness. Rogerson knows how to conjure a mood, and it shows. The Great Libraries in particular were stunning: creepy and whimsical in equal measure. I wanted more depth in the worldbuilding (we never get a great sense of the broader magical system or politics), but the scenes themselves were so vivid I mostly didn’t care. The atmosphere carried the story even when the plot stumbled.
Writing Style – 7.5/10
Rogerson writes with flair and a hint of theatricality, which mostly works—but occasionally veers into melodrama. Elisabeth’s internal narration can get a bit breathy and overwrought, like she’s rehearsing for a dramatic monologue competition. Still, the prose is smooth, the descriptions are immersive, and Nathaniel’s dialogue has razor-sharp rhythm that I adored. The book doesn’t pretend to be high literary fantasy, and that’s fine. It’s warm, expressive, and leans just enough into purple prose to be fun without smothering the story under glittery adjectives.
Rogerson writes with flair and a hint of theatricality, which mostly works—but occasionally veers into melodrama. Elisabeth’s internal narration can get a bit breathy and overwrought, like she’s rehearsing for a dramatic monologue competition. Still, the prose is smooth, the descriptions are immersive, and Nathaniel’s dialogue has razor-sharp rhythm that I adored. The book doesn’t pretend to be high literary fantasy, and that’s fine. It’s warm, expressive, and leans just enough into purple prose to be fun without smothering the story under glittery adjectives.
Plot – 7/10
The plot is a functional skeleton dressed in some very stylish clothing. The pacing’s solid, with just enough forward momentum to keep things from dragging, but the bones are familiar: girl raised in mysterious institution gets framed, uncovers a conspiracy, saves the day with her new magical boyfriend and demon bestie. It hits the expected beats, just not always with the weight or complexity I wanted. The final act is a whirlwind of magical chaos that almost makes up for a somewhat predictable middle. I didn’t hate where it went—but I definitely saw most of it coming.
The plot is a functional skeleton dressed in some very stylish clothing. The pacing’s solid, with just enough forward momentum to keep things from dragging, but the bones are familiar: girl raised in mysterious institution gets framed, uncovers a conspiracy, saves the day with her new magical boyfriend and demon bestie. It hits the expected beats, just not always with the weight or complexity I wanted. The final act is a whirlwind of magical chaos that almost makes up for a somewhat predictable middle. I didn’t hate where it went—but I definitely saw most of it coming.
Intrigue – 7.5/10
I wasn’t racing to turn pages, but I never wanted to put the book down either. It held my attention consistently, mostly thanks to character interactions and the sheer delight of the setting. The central mystery is a little undercooked—Ashcroft is practically wearing a “hello, I am the villain” name tag—but the emotional stakes helped fill in the gaps. I cared more about how the characters would handle events than about the events themselves, which worked fine. There was always something interesting going on, even if the tension wasn’t razor-sharp.
I wasn’t racing to turn pages, but I never wanted to put the book down either. It held my attention consistently, mostly thanks to character interactions and the sheer delight of the setting. The central mystery is a little undercooked—Ashcroft is practically wearing a “hello, I am the villain” name tag—but the emotional stakes helped fill in the gaps. I cared more about how the characters would handle events than about the events themselves, which worked fine. There was always something interesting going on, even if the tension wasn’t razor-sharp.
Logic / Relationships – 7.5/10
The book runs more on emotional logic than rigorous world mechanics. Want to make a sword out of magical book pages? Sure! Want to storm a government building because your demon friend told you to? Why not! I had to suspend my disbelief more than once, but nothing was so absurd it broke the spell. Relationships, particularly the one between Silas and Nathaniel, felt lived-in and emotionally rich. Elisabeth and Nathaniel’s romance wasn’t the deepest, but it developed with enough friction and vulnerability to feel earned by the end. Some elements were fuzzy (what is the Collegium doing?), but it held together.
The book runs more on emotional logic than rigorous world mechanics. Want to make a sword out of magical book pages? Sure! Want to storm a government building because your demon friend told you to? Why not! I had to suspend my disbelief more than once, but nothing was so absurd it broke the spell. Relationships, particularly the one between Silas and Nathaniel, felt lived-in and emotionally rich. Elisabeth and Nathaniel’s romance wasn’t the deepest, but it developed with enough friction and vulnerability to feel earned by the end. Some elements were fuzzy (what is the Collegium doing?), but it held together.
Enjoyment – 8/10
This was one of those books I sank into with a grin, even when I was side-eyeing the melodrama. It’s not revolutionary, but it is wildly enjoyable if you’re craving a fantasy with sentient books, morally ambiguous demons, and banter that bites. It’s the literary equivalent of a good cup of tea in a haunted library: warm, familiar, a little eerie, and thoroughly satisfying. I’m not planning to build a shrine to it—but I’d happily reread it next time I need a hit of bookish escapism and bi necromancer angst.
This was one of those books I sank into with a grin, even when I was side-eyeing the melodrama. It’s not revolutionary, but it is wildly enjoyable if you’re craving a fantasy with sentient books, morally ambiguous demons, and banter that bites. It’s the literary equivalent of a good cup of tea in a haunted library: warm, familiar, a little eerie, and thoroughly satisfying. I’m not planning to build a shrine to it—but I’d happily reread it next time I need a hit of bookish escapism and bi necromancer angst.
Overall Score: 7.6 / 10
Sorcery of Thorns is a well-dressed, emotionally satisfying, slightly predictable fantasy romp. It doesn’t reinvent the genre, but it knows exactly what it wants to be: cozy chaos with magical teeth. And honestly? Sometimes that’s enough.
Sorcery of Thorns is a well-dressed, emotionally satisfying, slightly predictable fantasy romp. It doesn’t reinvent the genre, but it knows exactly what it wants to be: cozy chaos with magical teeth. And honestly? Sometimes that’s enough.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body horror, Death, Gore, Torture, Violence, Forced institutionalization, Blood, Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Confinement, Emotional abuse, Mental illness, Misogyny, Panic attacks/disorders, Self harm, Sexism, Kidnapping, Grief, Medical trauma, Death of parent, Murder, Fire/Fire injury, Gaslighting
Minor: Child death, Cursing, Physical abuse, Vomit, Abandonment, Alcohol, Sexual harassment, War, Classism
This book includes scenes of forced institutionalization, including the protagonist being drugged, restrained, and gaslit by authority figures. These scenes are intense and may be distressing for those with related trauma. Emotional abuse, grief, and depression are ongoing themes, especially in relation to family history and identity. While not clinically labeled, the story includes references to trauma, suicidal ideation, and self-endangerment. There is also on-page violence involving magical creatures, demonic transformation, and possession, with occasional moments of body horror. The tone balances danger and dark themes with humor, hope, and emotional connection, but some scenes may be unexpectedly intense in a book with a generally whimsical atmosphere.