WOMS: The Wolf and the Woodsman

This week’s book that’s on my shelf is Ava Reid’s The Wolf and the Woodsman, a novel suggested to me by a fellow writer friend when I asked for good examples of fantasy romance, or as it is quickly becoming, romantasy.

It’s a good thing, then, I’m entitled to my own opinion, one which I’ll share now, because I’m not certain I would classify this as that. Then again, perhaps my tastes are too regulated and not varied; maybe I haven’t sampled enough of the different flavours of romantasy to be had.

Here’s why I think it is more my limited palate than an incorrect classification.

1. This friend is an excellent author, of several series, and has done her due diligence.
2. I often read only Victorian & Recency romances outside the fantasy genre. Within the fantasy genre, since I prefer high fantasy, which if you think about it, usually has some sort of historical flair—this also limits what kind of romances develop within those stories.

One could easily say that I know what I like and so I read those genres, especially when there is plenty to be read. While there is nothing wrong with this, and in fact, everyone should do it, what this also implies is should I read something which is different from my usual selection, then I might be less inclined to agree how others classify its genres. However, should I remove those aspects which are less familiar to me and consider it with a less subjective perspective, then I find my friend was correct all along.

Why do I say all this?

Perhaps because too often, even with book reviews, we allow our subjectivity to override the quality of the artwork and allowing it to speak for itself.

This applies to The Wolf and the Woodsman for me because while the description of the book itself would fit my usual tastes, upon reading it I found it did not.

Does this disqualify it in anyway? Absolutely not.

This is why agents continue to pass on my manuscript. I know this. They do not love what I have written, enough to read it over and over again, as I have. I cannot recall how many times I have read my own work, editing and revising as I go. This is what it means to love a book, I think, that you would be wiling to toil over it day and night; to eat and breathe your book. If I cannot find someone who is as in love with my work as I am, then it is not a good match.

Another writer friend of mine described querying as blind dating, and they couldn’t have been more correct. This might sound bizarre to some, but thinking about my manuscript as my child, my agent as a potential partner, definitely clarifies some of the pain one usually feels when they’re deep in those querying trenches.

If anything, I am grateful for reading this book for that reminder alone. If I’m always reading what I love, then how am I ever to avoid despair at my own lack of representation?

Now back to The Wolf and the Woodsman because this is a review after all.

I’m usually not one who likes to read dark, gritty stories. Not everything or everyone can be Batman. That said, The Wolf and the Woodsman was an excellent masterclass on capturing its historical inspirations and communicating them in such vivid, poignant prose, you feel the sweat on your back, the dirt beneath your fingernails, and the rumble of your stomach as you bleed with the characters as they journey.

The main character, too, was a masterclass in turning the traditional damsel in distress trope on its head. Évike is rough and a complete mess, but as you travel with her through the harsh lands of Régország, she is honed into a sharp, deadly weapon bent on ensuring her people’s survival, even if she come from two opposing tribes.

Those tribes are the pagans and Yehuli. The way Reid so aptly described the tensions between these groups (and others), their place in the greater society of Régország, is equally profound and sensitive. What I appreciated most was Évike’s discovery of her Yehuli heritage and how she learns about herself and who she comes from whilst also developing a relationship with her father. (And yes, I’m biased since the Yehuli are the Jewish people in this alternative, historical version of medieval Hungary, and I adored the representation.)

The scope of this book was much more vast than I expected, definitely bringing an epical element to the tale. I’ve mentioned two tribes of people in this book, but there are also other people groups, further enriching and diversifying the landscape.

Though yes, when the book started out, I wondered what I was getting myself into, why my friend recommended it in the first place—soon, I found myself caught up in this vibrant world of political and tribal tensions, fierce and deadly warrior women, and a vivid world. It might be different from what I usually read, but I found myself as easily entranced.

Grab a copy of The Wolf and the Woodsman today and let me know what you think!

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