Seraphina (Seraphina, #1)

by Rachel Hartman

[ladygrey]

I'd heard a review, or several, that this was a beautifully written book. It's not. Which isn't to say that it isn't good, but the words are awkward and sometimes ugly. Overall it's rather plain-spoken and straightforward except for the big words that seem to have interjected themselves rather than lacing through the linguistic style. It's a book that isn't afraid of ugliness, with its medieval setting that doesn't shy away from layers of ugly clothing and out houses.

But it's got fantastic characters!

And, I think, they're all the more wonderful for being allowed ugly moments because then, when they rise above them, it's startlingly beautiful.

To be honest, I think I only liked Seraphina. At first she was as distasteful and awkward as everything else with her grotesque garden and I just couldn't reconcile myself to this girl who lived so blithely with ugliness. But she evolved so nicely that I believed it when other characters said she was brave (and I don't often). And I liked that she was kind and prickly and not afraid of being prickly and even loved for it. I like how well she lied and how honest she was with herself about lying. Because they made her moments of honesty so startling and true on a level deeper than the words. I liked when other characters protected her and defended her because I believed that they loved her, even if I only liked her.

I loved Kiggs; I also loved his unrelenting honesty. And Grisselda. And Orma. The story is littered with so many exceptional secondary characters that come across as distasteful in the beginning but open up so wonderfully when we see how good they are at their core. I adored the friendship between Kiggs and Grisselda and it's probably part of what made me love them so much. And I love their friendship with Seraphina. It's so much fun to see friendships given so much weight in a YA novel and to see them nurtured. It was clear to see how both Kiggs and Grisselda gave Seraphina strength.

The slow romance was also really nice. There was no heat in it, no flustering passion that YA novels are so wont to get caught up in. The underlyings of friendship gave it strength and it was painful and beautiful and fantastically sweet.

I like pretty things. But this book goes to show that something can be good, at its very core which is a sort of strength and kind of wonderful, without feeling the need to be pretty. And that I remember how good it is much more than anything else.