Book Review: Spinning Silver
I promised that I would go back and review some of the books I read during my review hiatus, so here is the very first one. I caved and read Uprooted after seeing some fantastic reviews, and fortunately not long after that, Spinning Silver arrived on the shelves. My first readthrough was right after the release, but I just read it again in January after hankering for a good fairy tale.
Miryem is the daughter of a poor moneylender. When she takes the family business into her own hands and begins to turn a profit, the winter king of the fairy-like Staryk appears and demands that she turn silver into gold for him. Wanda is looking for an escape from her abusive father and finds it in Miryem’s offer to work off her father’s debt. But when she and her brothers accidentally kill their father, she must go on the run from the life she knows. And Irina knows she’s not the prettiest girl, yet her father contrives to marry her to the tsar. But the tsar is not what he seems, and Irina’s life is on the line. Between all three woman, the fate of the country will be decided.
I mentioned up above that Spinning Silver is a fairy tale retelling, and it is. The primary source is Rumplestiltskin, which ought to be obvious from the title, but there are traces of other fairy tales and folk stories layered in here as well. The Russian folklore influence is mighty, and it’s possible to see things like the story of Scheherazade in Irina. As she did in Uprooted, Novik excels at taking these familiar tales and twisting them just enough to make them new and exciting again.
The world itself is similar to ours, though I’m fairly certain it isn’t actually our world. At a cursory Google search, Mirnatius does not appear to be a historical tsar (unlike that other Russian fairytale fantasy, the Winternight Trilogy, which does take place explicitly in our Russia). Despite it not (?) being our world, Novik chose to transplant Judaism pretty much wholesale. Though it serves a purpose in providing a reason for the ill will toward Miryem and her family, the choice feels odd in places where it clashes with the evidence of this not being our world.
The core trio of characters are each strong and fascinating in their own right. Miryem has a steel backbone and an admirable inability to give up when she’s set her mind to something. Though her parents worry she’s become too hard, she still shows remarkable tenderness toward the people she loves and the people she rescues, human and Staryk alike. Wanda’s story will resonate with anyone who has been a victim of abuse as she escapes from her father and discovers how much better the world can be. And Irina, not pretty in a society which values only prettiness and childbearing in its women, finds that cleverness can be its own weapon, worth its weight in gold to keep her alive.
Over the course of the story, the women encounter each other, sometimes without even knowing. They help each other, they support each other, and I am honestly here for it. I truly appreciate how much space Novik gives her leads, and that even when they are at odds, they are not nasty or cruel to each other. The world could do with more novels featuring women holding each other up.
I almost wish that Novik had confined the story just to these three viewpoints. She includes two more: Mirnatius, Irina’s husband / the tsar, and Irina’s elderly maid. They’re not bad characters — Mirnatius in particular must be there for Irina’s arc to make sense and for the threat he supplies for Miryem as well — but the book is long enough without adding them as viewpoints, and they don’t add enough to the plot to merit their viewpoint sections.
Then there’s the Staryk characters. Novik does an excellent job of making their culture feel strange as compared to the relative normality of the rest of the cast; they have a very strong Unseelie Sidhe feel at the beginning, which erodes over time as Miryem gets to know more of them. The Staryk king, in particular, is proud and unyielding and often cruel in defense of his kingdom and people.
Miryem’s enemies to lovers relationship with the Staryk king is simultaneously the most interesting and the most distressing thing in the book. It’s fine until you start to look at it a little closer, and then it becomes distinctly uncomfortable. It’s dramatic, fractious and even abusive at various points; there’s a reason, to be sure, but it’s still icky. It only works for me because there’s a fairly large time lapse toward at the end, during which we assume they’ve actually grown to know each other and the Staryk king has changed considerably, especially in regards to the respect he pays Miryem.
Overall, the book is paced fairly well. Like many novels, it starts a little slow (probably by design - a lot of it is character work), but once Miryem meets the Staryk king the pace picks up considerably. Novik tosses a lot of plates into the air and manages to keep them spinning, threading bits and pieces across the different plotlines. It all boils down to a very primal conflict between fire and ice, endless sweltering summer and undying frozen winter, with Miryem in particular searching for a way to tread the middle ground.
Spinning Silver is always going to invite comparisons to Uprooted, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t also compared the two as I read them. If you pushed me, I’d probably give the edge to Uprooted - its pacing is a little tighter, and the core romance feels a little less squicky. It’s not a considerable edge though; Spinning Silver is a very, very good and enjoyable read, and it’s more than worth your time if you enjoy fairy tale retellings or the enemies to lovers trope.
Grade: 4.5/5 stars
Memorable Quote:
“You did not hear stories like that about the Staryk. Here, you heard that once a strange white beast had come to a peasant’s barn with a wounded Staryk knight drooping on its back, and in fear the peasants had taken him into their house and tended his wounds. And when he woke, he took up his sword and killed them, and then dragged himself out to his steed and rode back into the woods still dripping blood, and the only way anyone knew what happened was the mother had sent her two young children to hide in the hayloft of the barn and told them not to stir out of it until the Staryk was gone again.”
