The magic system that Joan works within is also very creative, and I especially enjoyed her relationship with a very opinionated prop sword that she manipulates using her powers. What more alluring fantasy is there for a theatre kid (or former one) than imagining oneself among the ranks of the almost mythical King's Men? That Self-Same Metal takes what one expects from the setting (endearing theatre people, Elizabethan London hijinks, gender-bending) and layers in a unique perspective by centering a queer Black heroine whose beliefs meld seamlessly with both the fairy lore and the historical realities that Shakespeare immortalized in his plays. Swept up into a stage-worthy conflict that will enmesh her in the dangerous politics of both Fae and humans alike, Joan must decide how to protect the people she loves. When that pact is broken, malicious Fae flood London, no longer bound to behave, and Joan discovers that she may be the only one who can stop them. Joan knows that, like the Orisha, the Fae are a very real magical presence in London, but an ancient pact keeps them from making too much mischief. Joan's twin brother is a player in the company, and the actors are like Joan's second family. Blessed by the Orisha spirit Ogun, she uses her powers to help her goldsmith father in his workshop and to tend the stage weapons of the King's Men, the renowned acting company run by the one and only William Shakespeare. Joan Sands has a special affinity with metal. In the end, Wolfwood paints a heartrending portrait of intergenerational trauma and the ways in which art can heal us. Her motivations and self-judgements are so painfully sympathetic that all I could do was hope that she would survive the unfair choices presented to her.īaer is also excellent at ratcheting up the tension of Indigo's increasingly dire situation as her troubles spin more and more out of control with each lie she tells, and somehow her real-world struggles feel even more frightening than the monstrous terrors in the world of Wolfwood. Indigo lies to everyone around her and attempts to commit a major act of fraud, and yet the text never suggests that the reader should sit in judgement of her. Wolfwood combines the compelling day-to-day struggle of a teenager forced to act as a parent to her mother under desperate conditions with the metaphor of art as a means to confront the dark corners of the psyche. It seems like a small price to pay, until she realizes that there's a deeper, horrifying reason why her mother stopped painting Wolfwood. The only problem is that Indigo's mother isn't willing to do the work.ĭesperate, Indigo begins working on the paintings herself, and soon discovers that painting Wolfwood sends her into a trance where she experiences the battles being fought by the girls in the paintings. There are collectors willing to pay inconceivable amounts of money for the end of the Wolfwood saga. But her mom has an opportunity to finally finish the painting series that made her famous - Wolfwood, which depicts the struggle of four teenage girls in a terrifying jungle full of monsters. Her mom was once a celebrated artist, but now the two of them live in poverty, always one small crisis away from disaster. These five new YA releases all explore both art and magic as the means to heal trauma, communities - and even worlds. It also seems right, then, that when we imagine magic, we often envision it as a sort of creative act. It makes sense - art has the power to transform and to transport, whether through a theatre production, a painting, or some other form.
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