I was deeply uncomfortable reading Juniper & Thorn, by Ava Reid

Photo: Amazon

I saw Juniper & Thorn pop up a couple of times amidst my never ending scrolling on TikTok, and it specially caught my eye when I saw it recommended alongside Uprooted, by Naomi Novik, and Deathless, by Catherynne Valente, two of my all-time favorite books. I decided to go in blind, only with the knowledge that it was for fans of folklore/fairy tale retellings (check) and that people highlighted the trigger warnings in the book. 

Trigger warnings (taken from Ava Reid’s website): child abuse, sexual abuse, rape, gore, body horror, incest, antisemitism, xenophobia and scientific racism, physical and psychological abuse from family members, gaslighting, self-harm and suicidal ideation, bulimia with graphic descriptions of vomiting and animal death.

Please take these seriously, as all of these are featured heavily in this story. 

Needless to say, reading this book was not a walk in the park, and, in fact, it was very much outside of my comfort zone or what I usually read, since it pulled a bit more towards gothic horror rather than fantasy.

All of which are clear in the book’s marketing, by the way, but, again, I decided to go into this book mostly blind, but here’s a synopsis in case you do not wish to do the same.
Juniper & Thorn is the story of Marlinchen, who lives with her two sisters and her wizard father in the country of Oblya. As the last witches of Oblya, they provide services to their fathers’ clients, but are viewed as a little more than an amusing tourist attraction. 

Marlinchen, the youngest of the sisters, is a timid, repressed girl whose narrow understanding of the world has been dictated by her xenophobic, tyrannical father, whom she tries to placate on a daily basis. One night, Marlinchen and her sisters sneak out of their house to attend a ballet performance, and Marlinchen becomes enthralled with Sevastyan, the principal dancer of the ballet and a man with his own share of trauma. 

Between the threat of her father’s magic, a mysterious monster that lurks in the night and her own growing desire for liberation, Marlinchen must grow into her magic in order to save the city and herself.
The tale is based on The Juniper Tree, a fairytale that was completely unfamiliar to me until after I read the book, but is one of those that were definitely not meant to comfort children.

My thoughts on Juniper & Thorn are complicated. On one hand, I believe that Reid is a master of building tension. She kept me engaged through a lot of the book and curious about how the story would develop.Her writing is superb and I think she set a melancholic mood early on that fit perfectly in with the book.

On the other hand, there’s so much horrible stuff going on in this book at one point, I was tired. Personally, I don’t have an issue with triggers, nor did I feel triggered by any of the scenes, but between the terrible situations and the dark mood, I found myself having to take a few breaks during the book because it was just too overwhelming. 

But again, this is a horror book. 

I did find myself feeling more sad than terrified, though, which I was thankful for because I’m not a huge fan of feeling terrified. The descriptions of abuse and the trauma it created in the characters did lead me to close the book sometimes and go touch some grass, but that wasn’t really my problem with the book. 

My main issue, and the reason behind my 4-instead-of-5 stars review is that very little happens. Despite all of the warnings and the horrible situations, the book really only picks up about two-thirds of the way in. Besides, although it is her connection with Sevastyan that ultimately causes a change in her, their love story felt very shallow.

So, on one hand, this is a deeply twisted, compelling, well-written tale, with a very interesting setting (that I wish had been more explored), creatures and a fairly upfront magic system. On the other, I had a hard time really connecting with the romantic aspect of it and felt that sometimes the story was meandering. 

Nonetheless, I believe this is, indeed, a good book for gothic horror lovers, people who like bleak, dark books. Marlinchen is, at times, an entirely unreliable narrator, and her struggles with trauma, continuous abuse and her family and family history all made me deeply uncomfortable, but I’m still glad I read this. It was entirely unexpected in a lot of ways and way out of my comfort zone. 

Would I read more Ava Reid? Absolutely! In fact, I have The Wolf and The Woodsman in my ever-growing TBR. Will I read approximately 15 rom-coms in order to rid myself from the icky feeling some scenes in this book gave me? Also yes!

Icon: dmitri13