A 19th-century Imperial Russian High Fantasy Novel — Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo

Personal Rating:

There are two types of north: true north and a mere cardinal north of the compass. If Shadow and Bone (2012) is a direction, then it is the true north of the fantasy genre. Written by Israeli-American author Leigh Bardugo — this New York Times bestselling first novel in the Grishaverse series is a high-fashioned fantasy adventure that follows the 1800s Imperial Russian culture in a pre-industrial, make-believe secondary world of mystics, in a contemporary form. It tells the story of a war orphan girl who discovers that she has a remarkable ability to save her divided country. 

Set in a mythical kingdom of Ravka. The country depicts the social stratification that exists within a geopolitical, class-based society under an autocratic government — a king and queen as the heads of the state, followed by great military warriors that are made up of two armies of conscripts: one, a supernatural elite group of second-army soldiers called Grisha in color-coded, bulletproof uniforms or kefta, who can manipulate matters such as air, blood, fire, among others that distinguishes them in the order of their powers — the usual standard operating procedure of alchemy as seen in all its fantasy literature predecessors. Those who are not born with special powers become ordinary soldiers who serve the king’s first army while the rest of the civilians work as either farmers or slaves; or in this archaic context, the old 15th-century derogatory English nomenclatures that the book uses: peasants or serfs. 

These serfs at the bottom of the socioeconomic hierarchy have the most impact from the central conflict. When a non-sentient pitch-black immense force of darkness known as the Shadow Fold invades the once-great nation of Ravka, it destroys not only their livelihood but also tears and divides the country in half—closing off the wealthy port cities on the western coast as it increasingly hovers in the vast atmosphere with human-flesh-eating monsters.

Inside the Fold, these are the enemies, but outside the borders, the war with the neighboring countries puts Ravka into a landlocked position and barbaric violence of mass murders. So there are few brief mentions of 1800s’ forms of manslaughters but in less intimate, flesh-out details. These include bloodbath assassinations and decapitations, animal torture, and some subtle but lethal small-science manipulation — the worst would be a death hex suffocation of lungs, through mutilation of the internal organs without laying a finger on any of the targets.

The outbursts of violence are imminent. So when Alina Starkov, the heroine of the story comes and displays a dormant power on the way to Shadow Fold; where her regiment is attacked, she and her fellow countrymen find a living saint in her; one that everyone believes to be a savior-in-waiting due for a long time and who can one day destroy the Fold. From a mere war orphan who becomes an assistant cartographer in the first army to one of the most significant and powerful summoners in the highest order of Grisha, she suddenly finds herself behind the walls of the Little Palace, learning to call upon her untapped power. Alina is an archetype of a damsel-in-distress heroine — safe in the confines of a castle that treats her as a fragile royal, with access to every imaginable grand scheme of things, and yet she’s miserable.

As a first-person narrator of the story, she describes herself as this pale-frail-thin girl, broken by misery and doesn’t seem to fit anywhere else; that sort of goody-two-shoes, traditional hero-type weak traits that seem impossible to exist in superhuman beings. However, this negative self-description seems to appear more often in the book in many variations that mostly come with long complaint monologues and turns out to be redundant and off-putting — as if there’s a hint of vanity and insecurity hidden in plain sight of her words. Something about her lack of moral fiber makes it hard to connect with and root for her character.

Taking out that exceptional power, there seems to be nothing badass about her. However, her tendency to make bad decisions, do things as told, and choose heart over mind, aka doing what feels right even if it’s wrong, makes her character humanly relatable. The author does conjure an authentic, flawed protagonist, but the bad seems to outweigh the good. 

The rest of the supporting characters are enigmatic. It seems that the geopolitical war has put some of them in a microscopic lens of their ulterior motives. From the social stratification that exists among the monarchs and serfs, and within the orders of Grisha; to the war with the border countries — the Shadow Fold seems to be a metaphor for the big divide between the rich and poor, and the strong and weak. Even for Alina, the evidence suggests likewise. Shortly after the world finds out about her hidden power, she ascends to the highest rank of orders in the second army, leaving behind her best friend, Mal, in the front line of the warfare force. The long-distance separation causes a rift in their friendship, and as Alina continues to adapt to the grand life at the Little Palace, the larger the gap between them.

It’s a classic high school drama syndrome in YA books. The two used to be best friends until one rose to fame overnight, gained respect and exclusive privileges such as sitting with a cool kids’ lunch table, while the other suffered from loneliness. But, for Alina, it gets more complicated than that. While she always and secretly loves Mal, as more than a best friend; she also falls in love with the Darkling, the leader of the second army, and also a powerful Grisha — a love affair that may seem romantic but is actually a bit premature, considering the kisses are non-consensual; regardless, it’s a question of who should Alina choose, the handsome blue-eyed mortal friend she has loved all her life, or the cool gray-eyed small-science summoner who is her equal? As the climax unfolds, this reveals to be a trick question with an obvious answer, just as the ethical dilemma that the author puts in the final chapter — that 1937 philosophical trolley problem: whether to sacrifice one person to save many. 

Despite these plot dilemmas, however — the worldbuilding of its 1800s Imperial Russian setting of the story is a masterful vision. Here, the juxtaposition of the places is so vivid that every location practically tells the story itself. From that military encampment on the east shore that covers many military and nautical-related terms; to those golden-marbled palaces in the capital city that detail every aspect of their architectural designs, everything is pure escapism. The magnificent rural areas of the land, into the countryside that showcase the entire picturesque landscape of nature’s ecosystem, also tells that this is from a pre-industrial era of eastern Europe. No wonder this is a high fantasy novel. Some Slavic terms also come along with the sentences like kvas, samovar; which somehow slow down the reading experience but other than that, the entire body of writing is well-written in contemporary English. Shadow and Bone, Book One by Leigh Bardugo (now a Netflix original series), is three out of five stars.