Rarely does a book knock it out of the park with such pitch-perfect pacing, brilliantly realized characters, rip-roaringly hilarious dialogue, and captivating worldbuilding. The Ink Witch, however, brings to mind classic tales from Roald Dahl and Lemony Snicket while at the same time being sparklingly original. The story centers on a child at the brink of puberty who suddenly realizes she’s a witch. But unlike the series-that-shall-not be-named, this one doesn’t take place at a magical school—and its protagonist is a transgender girl.
When the story opens, 12-year-old Becca Slugg is annoyed with her boring and overprotective mother and tired of helping out at the family’s Cape Disappointment Beach Inn. When her mother’s estranged sister Malatrice suddenly stops by, seeking her mother’s help for her bid to become Witch-Queen, Becca is astonished to learn that witches exist, and that witch’s ink flows in her, too.
Her mother doesn’t want her evil sister to ascend to power, however, and tries to resist, only to be cursed into mindlessness. It is then up to Becca to save her, with the help of her mother’s familiar Natalya (a snarky, Russian-accented tarantula), and Oddvar, a troll who has been living in the motel’s ice machine. They set off on a quest for the rare ingredients needed to concoct a cure—but a host of creatures, not to mention Malatrice herself, are ranged against them.
On one level, the book is a chaotically exuberant adventure, with top-notch worldbuilding and several surprising twists. The characters are quirky and fun. That alone would be enough to commend it. But author Steph Cherrywell also thoughtfully explores the importance of being seen for oneself and what it means to be part of a group even as one forges one’s own identity. Becca’s musings about what she and Malatrice have in common also adds nuance where some authors might go for a more binary good-versus-evil approach.
Becca’s transness is not the focus of the book, but nor is it ignored. Rather, Cherrywell brings it up in ways that feel authentic for the character. We learn that Becca’s parents are divorced because her mother accepted her while father did not, for example, and that part of her mom’s overprotection stems from worries about the dangers the world poses to trans kids. And when Natalya explains to Becca that coming into her skills as a witch “is sort of a puberty thing,” Becca worries that her being trans might affect this. Natalya assures her it doesn’t, explaining, “Being a witch, it is not like getting periods, it is more like… pimples and smelling bad. All genders are invited!” Ha!
Cherrywell also gives us one of the strongest affirmations of chosen names I’ve ever seen, not simply asserting that we should respect them, but weaving their power into the plot itself. I’ll say no more for fear of spoilers, except that I think it’s brilliant.
With the feeling of beloved classics, but also a freshness that should delight young readers today, The Ink Witch is very highly recommended. (It’s also among the several LGBTQ-inclusive middle-grade books that I’d love to see brought to our screens.) Expect awards for this one (but don’t wait for them—go get it now).
Becca, her mother, and Malatrice have pale skin. One secondary character is Filipina (and has a girlfriend).
