There has been much hype about the new fantasy epic Children of Blood and Bone; some are calling it “the next Harry Potter,” while others say it belongs in a league all its own. One thing was for sure: I had to get my hands on a copy, pronto. And what I discovered between the pages of Tomi Adeyemi’s debut novel didn’t disappoint.
Adeyemi’s first installment introduces us to the magical realm of Orisha, which is loosely based on the topography and culture of Nigeria, Africa. In this world, magic has long been outlawed and anyone with the power to perform it has been methodically stamped out, including our main character Zelie’s own mother. However, Zelie is a diviner, meaning she has the ability to awaken her latent magic if magic ever returns to Orisha. This ability casts her as an outsider, a victim of endless discrimination brought upon all diviners by the decree of King Saran. When the King’s own daughter goes rogue, Zelie finds herself in the position to be able to bring magic back, making her Enemy #1 for the royal family and their band of followers. Together with her brother Tzain, Princess Amari, and an unexpected foe-turned-ally, Zelie and her friends set out on a mission to right wrongs and change the future of Orisha.
As a fantasy aficionado and a lifelong Harry Potter fanatic, I loved the magical world Adeyemi created. She provided just enough backstory and color to make Orisha a living, breathing place, and I found myself quickly swept up in its mystical allure. What differentiates this novel from most fantasy epics, however, is the heaviness of its subject matter. Orisha is not a happy community of wand-bearing wizards learning their first spells in the safety and security of a Hogwarts classroom; it is a dark, dangerous world plagued with violence and prejudice from the very first page. Adeyemi wastes no time immersing us in the twisted reality of these characters, and with a passing glance at her afterword, it becomes clear why. This book has a strong political motive behind it that binds the fantastical world of Orisha to the very real world we currently live in, making it a relevant read not just for young adults, but for adults as well. In fact, I daresay that adults might even find more value in this book than the young adults it’s marketed for.
Children of Blood and Bone is not for the faint of heart—at a whopping 525 pages, the sheer mass of this book can intimidate even the most voracious YA readers. But what it lacks in brevity, it makes up for in action-packed, suspense-ridden plot. The story never drags, and always keeps its readers guessing, with more plot twists and turns than I could count. Furthermore, the book switches points of view rather frequently, making it a quicker read than one might assume just looking at its scope. Adeyemi has a gift with language, and her writing is exquisite. I especially loved the incantations, written in an African tongue and peppered amongst the pages. They really added to the mythical feel of the book, and were beautifully rendered at just the right moments.
Another major strength of this book is the characterization of Adeyemi’s heroines, Zelie and Amari. They are both strong women who undergo major growth and change over the course of the novel. The author takes her time developing their character arcs and making us genuinely care about them. I wish she would have devoted the same amount of time to her male characters, who didn’t feel as fleshed out and sometimes appeared one-dimensional. Prince Inan started off as an interesting antagonist/love interest for Zelie, but the more he waffled and went back on his choices, the less interested I became. And Zelie’s brother, Tzain, doesn’t progress any further than the stereotypical protective big brother, making it hard to invest in him as a character in his own right. In a similar way, the romantic relationships in this novel didn’t have quite the impact Adeyemi was going for, at least for me. Always a sucker for romance, I couldn’t help but feel ambivalent towards Tzain and Amari’s blossoming affection; for the first fifty pages, I actually found myself wondering if Amari was homosexual, due to the passionate words she has for her female friend Binta. And the main couple in this story, the Romeo and Juliet of Orisha, went from trying to kill each other to sharing secret glances and illicit touches in a matter of hours. The rapidity at which they fell for each other seemed almost too forced to buy into, and I wished Adeyemi had allocated more time to let their chemistry unfold naturally.
All in all, Children of Blood and Bone is an exciting beginning in a fresh, time-sensitive trilogy. While fans of romance might want to look elsewhere, lovers of fantasy will be entertained from start to finish. The book demands a mature audience, but should it follow the trend of other YA series, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a big-screen adaptation in the years to come.