The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo

I’ve never been a particularly ambitious person. Blame my childhood, my personality, my struggles with mental health, or perhaps a mixture of all three, but I could never visualise myself in the future. Being Reianna right now is hard enough, what business do I have thinking about where she’s going to be in ten years? five? one? The future was always a mythical, mysterious land far, far away and I couldn’t be bothered about something so…hypothetical. However, I have been lucky enough to get past that and, as I write this, be wonderfully happy, healthy and in love with life. As such, The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo, a book largely about female ambition, came at the perfect time and I adored it.

The Familiar starts by introducing us to three women–Luzia, Haulit and Valentina. All of them have faced considerable challenges in their life and, although different in the ways they did it, all of them have given up. They have done what they could with the circumstances given to them and burrowed into their misery. However, as it is prone to do, life gets a bit messy and the three women realize they might possibly have a chance at a better life if only they’re brave enough to grab it. As the novel progresses, we see each of them become more ambitious and perhaps even desperate for that golden horizon. But there are very real risks for a woman to take charge of her life in 16th century Madrid, not to mention magic and the fear of being (or being associated with) a witch. No one can be blamed for not risking their life for something better but it was inspirational and intriguing to experience three very different women struggling with that mixture of fear and desire. Do you want it bad enough to die for it?

Luzia is broken, beaten down, and hardly alive. Although she possesses the ability to perform magic, she never uses it for more than fixing a burnt loaf or finding a lost key. She is lost; head down, steps quiet, she haunts her employer’s home, perpetually unnoticed. Life threw the first punch and Luzia never got back up again. Enter Valentina, a bored, unfulfilled woman forced into the drudgery of being a poor housewife to an ugly, irritable misogynist. She is alone in a world that doesn’t particularly want her adrift in a longing she doesn’t understand. Finishing out this trilogy is Haulit, a woman blessed with ethereal beauty that she uses like both a weapon and a shield. “There are worse things for a woman than being alone.” She clawed her way through vile and violent men until she had money and a place to live comfortably but she couldn’t quite kick the self loathing that came with it.

The way Bardugo introduces these women and seamlessly flows back and forth between their perspectives is masterful. Within just a few chapters, I felt as if I knew them. I understood them. I was them. By leading with her character work, the novel is immediately engaging. I have been reading Bardugo for years and this is the best I’ve ever seen her. Her experience shines through every sentence as she expertly weaves exposition into the plot so you never once feel as if you’re being lectured. The pacing is brisk but slows down when it needs to; she allows the plot to breathe a moment and lets the characters sink more deeply under your skin. 

The plot takes off when Valentina discovers Luzia’s ability and both she and Luzia are launched into a frightening but alluring new world. “Luzia saw her reflection in the goblet, changed but unchanged, made perfect and runed all at the same time.” Luzia is forced into the spotlight and she must make a decision: see where her magic takes her and risk death (or worse) or pretend as if she’s barely more than a dumb animal and retreat into her hovel. “She would never be safe. Good. Her mind would be challenged, her wits sharpened. She might not survive, but at last she would be put to the test. Where is your own fear, Luzia? Haulit had asked her. Luzia didn’t know. Maybe she’d eaten it along with the pomegranate.” It would be so easy to give up and a hell of a lot safer. But Luzia understands she hasn’t truly been living, not really, and while incredibly dangerous, she’s hungry for more and she’s not willing to walk away from the table until she’s had her fill. “‘Maybe,’ Luzia admitted. ‘But let it be my ambition and not my fear that seals my fate.’” As I watched Luzia struggle forward, I felt my own long dead ambition stir within my chest. I started to wonder, what if I really tried? What if I honestly gave this whole life thing my best shot? Just like Luzia I have begun to wonder, “How big might the world become?” This is why I love literature so much! Good art should make you question yourself and The Familiar not only did that but fully shifted my perception on life. How’s that for magic?

The ending is the only reason The Familiar is not receiving a glowing five star recommendation. The plot was building and building, the stakes were as high as possible, I was on the edge of my seat absolutely terrified for the characters–and then, in the most tense scene of the entire novel, we essentially faded to black. We get a few quick epilogue type wrap ups for the characters and that’s it. Book over. It almost feels like a cheat of an ending; a five star reading experience sets up certain expectations for the ending and I think Bardugo doesn’t stick the landing. For that, I am giving it 4.5 stars out of 5. 

I would absolutely recommend it to everyone but be aware that this is more historical fiction than fantasy; misogyny is rampant; there is some violence against women (minor, more implied than on page but there nonetheless); a tiny bit of gore; a couple of sex scenes (not vulgar, more on the ambiguous side, but definitely there).

Happy reading!