Young witches being sorted? A town in our world, but full of magic? Three friends on a quest to fight an evil monster? A protagonist who is a person of color? Queer inclusion? If you want all of the above, this book is for you.
Witchlings, by Claribel A. Ortega (Scholastic), begins in the town of Ravenskill, where every year 12-year-old Witchlings participate in the Black Moon Ceremony and are placed into covens, where they come into their powers as full-fledged witches. Each coven attracts witches of different characteristics—House of Stars witches, for example, are “Brilliant, beautiful, generous to all”; Moth House witches are “Mysterious, morbid, dependable friends.”
Seven Salazar, who “wanted desperately to belong,” hopes to be sorted into House Hyacinth—“valiant, virtuous, powerful in all things”—with her best friend Poppy. Yet she ends up a Spare, not chosen for any of the houses. Spares, fated never to come into full power, are scorned by all and often end up working for pennies for the more powerful and wealthy witch families. Not only that, but the other two Spares that year are Seven’s former bully, Valley, a goth-y witch from one of the wealthy families, and nervous new girl Thorn.
Worse yet, when the girls try to seal their Spare coven to lock in the magic that they do have, it doesn’t work, meaning that they will be Forever Witchlings, with no magic whatsoever. Seven uses her deep knowledge of town traditions, though, to invoke the Impossible Task. If they complete it, their coven will seal. If not, they will be turned into toads. Their task? To fell a Nightbeast, a horrific creature that is notoriously difficult to track. Can the three Spares overcome their differences and form a team to complete their task, or are they subject to a dismal fate?
It will be a rare book about young witches that doesn’t evoke the overwhelming influence of the Harry Potter books. Readers will pick up many echoes here: There are acronyms for witchy exams (“C.A.T. exams”), a forbidden section of the library, a name for non-magical humans (“humdrum”), a potion that shows memories in a bowl, and a popular magical sporting event.
“Witchlings is a middle-grade series where every reader is welcome. It is for anyone who has felt they didn’t quite fit in, and who needs a bit of magic and friendship to learn to finally believe that they are wonderful, just as they are.”
—Claribel A. Ortega
Author Claribel Ortega acknowledges her debt, but also indicates her goal of pushing beyond what the earlier series gave us, saying in a publisher’s statement that “Witchlings asks the question what happens when the sorting hat puts you nowhere.” Ortega also addresses some of the main failings of the earlier series, notably its all-White protagonists, lack of queer inclusion (aside from retroactive comments by the author), and clunky inclusion of characters of color. Witchlings, Ortega said, “is a middle-grade series where every reader is welcome. It is for anyone who has felt they didn’t quite fit in, and who needs a bit of magic and friendship to learn to finally believe that they are wonderful, just as they are.”
The diversity and inclusion in the book is notable. Seven is Latinx, and many of the spells she uses have Spanish-derived names, e.g., “encantamiento terminado.” Several queer characters are seamlessly included, including one two-girl couple and a minor character who uses “they” pronouns. I also detected a hint that Seven might have a crush on another girl, but that could be wishful thinking on my part; I’m just hoping that if it is indeed true, it will be developed more in a sequel. Seven also has a somewhat queer aesthetic, wearing a purple hoodie and combat boots along with her witches’ hat.
Ortega weaves in themes about oppression, income inequality, and the awfulness of designating a category of people as “illegals,” doing so clearly but without being heavy handed. Additionally, she shows us the prejudices that can work their way into local politics, a timely theme given the many local battles being fought right now in our own world. One character, too, has an abusive father; we see the impact of that on his spouse and child, but we also see action taken to address it.
There are many creations in Ortega’s world, too, that derive from non-HP origins, from various monsters (or “monstruos,” to use the Spanish term that the characters use), to the governmental structure, to exclamations (“Oh my goats!”) and other bits of worldbuilding. And the magical sporting event is not on humans on broomsticks but rather toads racing to classical music. Seven’s own toad, Edgar Allan Toad, also gets points for the awesomeness of his name.
Most importantly, Seven, Valley, and Thorn are original characters, with their own strengths, weaknesses, and learning curves. The trio’s plans for overcoming the Nightbeast are full of twists and turns, but it is the interpersonal interactions among them that make this story shine, as they each grapple with incidents and traumas of their past, come to understand and work against injustices, and slowly learn to trust each other. Readers will delight in getting to know them and will likely hope, as I do, that we’ll see more of them and their world in a sequel. Ortega is helping us reclaim the magic.
