Child of the Prophecy by Juliet Marillier is the third book in the Sevenwaters saga. Marillier does an interesting thing by having each novel told from the point of view of a child in the youngest generation. I'm really enjoying everything about this world.
In this one, Niamh's daughter Fainne grows up isolated with her father after her mother's unexpected death. When she is a young teenager, her father gets sick, so she is sent to Sevenwaters to connect with her mother's family. But her father's mother is a sorceress who wants to harm Sevenwaters, so Fainne is torn between worlds.
This book! There's so much here! A very morally grey main character. Complicated family relationships. A change in culture and religion. War. Transfiguration. A talking owl. A white horse. It was so very detailed and wonderful. Fainne's growth and courage proved to be catnip to me as I couldn't wait to get to bed as early as possible so I can read this book and figure out what was going to happen to her.
It's easy to write a review of a bad book because you can rattle off ways to improve it. It's harder to write a review of a good book because if you don't want to give away plot spoilers, you're just sitting there saying "I think you should read it." And that's how I feel. I think people should read Sevenwaters and I don't know why I haven't heard other people talk about how great this series is.
Lines of note:
A freezing terror ran through me. It was not just that I had done the unforgivable. It was something far worse. Had I not just proved my grandmother right? I bore the blood of a cursed line, a line of sorcerers and outcasts. It seemed I could not fight that; it would manifest itself as it chose. Were not my steps set inevitably toward darkness? (page 60)
Interesting that the last time I talked about predestination as absolute bunk was the first book in this series! It's obviously a trope that this author leans on.
A pity he was so old. Nine and thirty at least, I thought. (page 145)
Ha ha ha. *sob* So. Old. Obviously near death.
“You can’t order other folks’ lives, and their feelings, to suit what you think’s best..." (page 348)
Truer words have never been spoken, particularly to anyone who has ever spoken to a teenager.
I had never thought that men and women of five and thirty, or even older, might still possess such feelings for one another that it drove all else from their minds. I had thought love a fantasy, a delusion of youth...(page 392)
Old people never have sexytimes, OBVIOUSLY.
Men do not understand what it is like to wait. Women endure it because they must. It’s the price of love.(page 449)
Interesting. Do you think women wait more than men?
Word I looked up: