“Corruption eats at the heart of our land. It grows most virulently among those who rule our people.” Bestselling author Sabaa Tahir returns to fantasy and the world of her An Ember in the Ashes series in Heir (Atom, £20), the first in a duology that explores what so much fantasy does – the need to fight against evil, against the forces of darkness. It is a genre frequently derided as “escapist”, which seems to miss the point of fiction – that it is at its best always both escapist, taking us out of ourselves and our lives while immersed in the story, and profoundly relevant to our humanity, inviting us into empathy and understanding. Like science fiction, its capacity to explore the big issues in a slightly different reality can make it a more palatable choice when the real world is a difficult place to be.
That tilted mirror is a powerful tool, and Tahir wields it well, though not perfectly. There are occasional references that feel a tad too contemporary – while firmly believing in the importance of dresses with pockets, I am less convinced of this detail in the context of the fantastical world presented here. The matter-of-fact explanations of how magic works in this society – needing both emotion and element, though the latter are “wide-ranging and capricious” – are effective, avoiding the exposition-heavy paragraphs fantasy is often too fond of. There are nods to previous titles in the series, with protagonists making appearances in supporting roles, without it being intrusive; the focus is very much on the next generation of adventurers, including a crown prince and a mercenary with more than a little sexual chemistry crackling between them. (There is not quite enough swooning to label it firmly as “romantasy”, in this reviewer’s opinion, but your mileage may vary.)
Moving between different close-third perspectives, the plot initially seems to set up three disparate characters joining forces for a single quest, and then subverts this in a very pleasing way a little before the halfway point. The last hundred pages or so are addictive, though there is that twitchy awareness of being set up for book two. Existing fans and newcomers will gobble this up.
“The Founders are right. We will do this better. These humans do not deserve this planet,” an alien infiltrator muses in Olivia Levez’s Silver (Hot Key, £8.99). Silver, a member of a species exiled from their home planet, has been chosen as First Pioneer. What this means in the short term: occupying the body of a teenage girl visiting England on a pet-sitting exchange programme, and learning about humanity. In the long term, it will involve the colonisation of Earth.
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The outsider perspective allows for some shrewd observations about how we live today: “humans inhabit their computer systems. It seems that this is a space where humans cannot stop poking and prodding each other.” It also provides the opportunity for humour, with Silver’s attempts to do kind things for the host family often missing the point entirely. Extraterrestrial characters have long been used to explore what it means to be human, through both their difference and familiarity; Silver’s sense that there “is something wrong with me, something different from the rest” is all-too-relatable. This is a moving, memorable story.
Blessing Musariri follows up her 2023 magical realist novel with a more contemporary tale, though still set in her native Zimbabwe, with When It’s Your Turn For Midnight (Zephyr, £8.99). In the months leading up to her 16th birthday, Chiante discovers something that shakes her entire family: the man who raised her is not her biological father. It slips out at a moment of crisis, and there’s no putting the genie back in the bottle. Her sisters go to stay with one set of grandparents, while Chiante hides out at her grandmother’s house amid a group of elderly women who fought for the country’s liberation and now sell upcycled clothing in what may not be an entirely legal manner.
“Old people who have lived through tough times” is a familiar trope in young adult fiction, and indeed in life, and it can be handled awkwardly, as a way of dismissing the immediate concerns of adolescents. Musariri lets Chiante ease into finding the war stories relevant; initially it feels “almost a folk-tale – nothing in the region of my life problems”, and the notion of “invalidating my experience” comes up, but by the end of the novel there is space for learning from one’s elders as part of that broader process of self-discovery and maturity. A thoughtful, lyrical novel, with a particularly welcome look at the world beyond the Global North.
Adiba Jaigirdar’s Rani Choudhury Must Die (Hodder, £8.99) sees two high-achieving Bangladeshi-Irish girls, current rivals and former best friends, team up to defeat the boy who’s been cheating on both of them – by designing an app as a joint entry for the Young Scientist Exhibition. Meghna stopped talking to Rani years ago, after a business scandal that changed her family’s circumstances for the worse; she still has a bit of a chip on her shoulder about how her parents have been treated, based solely on gossip. Rani misses her old friend, but is mostly involved in the various academic and extracurricular activities that make her seem “perfect” – even if she doesn’t that feel that way on the inside.
There are echoes of Jaigirdar’s earlier work here; she tends to rely on familiar romance tropes, in this instance “enemies to lovers”, and then centre characters who don’t often get to be the heroines of such narratives – in particular queer girls of colour. This latest is a light read that nonetheless explores the specifics of being “other”, with nods towards the representation and treatment of women in Stem. Other topics are handled with varying levels of success – there’s a clunky moment in which climate change denial is apparently resolved with a single presentation, but then a brilliant one in which Meghna’s friends casually raise some ethical questions around science fairs and tech corporations, while en route to their main point. Sweet and uplifting.
Marisha Pessl (Special Topics in Calamity Physics) excels at precocious teenagers solving weird mysteries, and her latest YA title, Darkly (Walker, £8.99), introduces us to Dia, a girl known at school as Nana: “like some odd bird species sequestered for decades on a musty island, I have evolved to be at home among the old-fashioned and passé”. Her mother runs an antiques store in small-town Missouri, and Dia expects her summer will involve working there as usual – until she’s accepted for an internship with a strange foundation.
[ Fiction in translation: Darkenbloom a profoundly disturbing Austrian satireOpens in new window ]
Louisiana Veda, a famous and eccentric game designer, is long dead, but people still find themselves compelled by her work, and conspiracy theories abound. The games, known as the Darklys, are said to “own you. Not the other way around ... They bond with their first owner and will do anything to be played”. There is a lost game, and Dia, along with a group of other misfits (“kids who are curious and intelligent, but with zero family oversight”), is tasked with tracking it down, along with a missing boy. High concept, gorgeous writing – a delicious, gothic thriller for winter nights.
Claire Hennessy is an author and a critic
