As a red-headed, queer, former fencer with a graduate degree in medieval history, I knew I was probably going to like this sword-swinging, redhead- and queer-led middle grade fantasy novel from Esme Symes-Smith. The joyous, nuanced story with a nonbinary protagonist exceeded even my expectations.
As a fantasy story, it has a lighter touch than, say, Game of Thrones, with less bloodshed and more contemporary lingo like “self-care” thrown in amongst the swordplay. In its world, boys learn to fight, girls learn magic (which must be strictly controlled), and there’s no real place for someone like 12-year-old Callie, whom everyone thinks is a girl but who knows they’re neither. Their father, a former King’s Champion, leaves their mother (who was trying to force a girl’s role upon Callie) and takes Callie to the remote, diverse community of Eyrewood, where he settles down with his new (male) partner, Neal, and Callie comes to see the two of them as their dads. (This adds to the growing number of kids’ books featuring queer kids with queer parents.)
Callie has tried to suppress the magic they have—a symbol of the girl’s role that was foisted upon them—in order to focus on sword fighting. When their father is summoned back to kingdom’s capital of Helston to help a hapless young prince prepare for the throne, Callie goes with him, hoping to enter a tournament and prove themselves worthy of becoming a knight.
In Helston, however, a ruthless chancellor has taken charge after the king disappeared when his oldest son died. He is doubtful the remaining prince, Willow, inept at fighting, will become the strong leader needed as war threatens. Callie soon runs afoul of the chancellor, too, as he attempts to make them adhere to a girl’s role, but they find support (and a possible crush) in his daughter, Elowen, as well as in the misunderstood prince. Elowen’s brother Edwyn finds himself caught between supporting the prince, a former friend, and obeying his domineering father.
Callie is a tremendously likeable protagonist, chivalrous without being patronizing, quick to defend what they think is right, yet sometimes unsure of what that is or how to go about it. A lesser author might have had them simply reject the quiet, domestic woman’s role society demanded of them in order to save the kingdom with their sword, but Symes-Smith instead has Elowen show Callie that there is power in magic, too. Callie must ultimately draw on both traditionally male and traditionally female skills in order to defend the kingdom from evils within and without. Several other characters, too, demonstrate talents across traditional gender lines, showing how such rigid boundaries negatively impact people of many gender identities.
Importantly, each of the many queer characters is at a different point in their journeys to self-understanding and self-acceptance, and has responded differently to the obstacles placed in their paths by a world structured against them. There is not one single story of queerness here, but many. Those who hinder them are given nuance as well, exhibiting different types of opposition, from quietly complicit to actively hostile. Symes-Smith deftly shows the different types of damage each can do, and why it is often so hard to create change in our real world—while also giving us hope that it might be possible.
More wonderful tidbits pop up throughout the book, too, such as a passing reference to a transgender girl in Eyrewood who is simply accepted for who they are, or a scene in which Elowen helps Callie find menstrual supplies—a rare mention of menstruation in middle-grade literature and an even rarer one in relation to a nonbinary character. Other revelations I leave for readers to discover.
This is at its heart a story of resilience, redemption, and triumph—a joyous celebration of found family, friendship, and what it means to be a leader and a champion. We see the difference that family support can make in the life of a young person facing oppression, and how the complicated feelings of adolescence mean that young people can hold both anger and love for their parents (even the well-meaning ones) at the same time. (Parents take note.) We also see how each person must fight against their own oppression even as they work in community; despite Callie’s chivalrous instincts, they cannot save everyone singlehandedly.
While I have often said we need fewer stories about queer people (and their families) dealing with oppression (because for far too long, those were the only stories told about us), sometimes it’s great to see a story in which the queer kids band together and succeed against all odds. There’s an elation similar to having your favorite sports team or drag star win. It will be a rare reader, I think, who won’t take away even a little of the hopefulness, internal growth, and determination of the characters. The book should be on every middle grade bookshelf and may appeal even to readers beyond that age group.
The final wonderful thing about this book? The little “1” on the spine, implying another volume that has a “2” on it. I can’t wait.
Callie, her dads, Elowen, and Edwyn read as White; some secondary characters indicate skin tone diversity in the world.
