The Book of Atrix Wolfe by Patricia A McKillip

Part of what I love about trawling my local secondhand bookstore, which reminds me rather a lot of the store that we see in the opening of The Neverending Story film that traumatised me as a child, is that I'll often find books there that won't stray to my local Wordsworth. The Book of Atrix Wolfe by Patricia A McKillip is one such, and I really wish I'd read her writing sooner.

McKillip sadly passed away in 2022, and I feel that she's one of the voices in fantasy fiction who is chronically underrated in the genre, and one I'll happily hold up next to the likes of Ursula K Le Guin and Tanith Lee. 

The Book of Atrix Wolfe is a lush, nuanced tale, and the real treat is really the way that she crafts her story – the poetry in each paragraph, the images, sights, and sounds that beg you to keep this book on your shelf to reread at a future date. The story itself is deceptively simple, involving a wizard who, in his hubris, wreaks great destruction that unleashes a darker magic, and a faerie queen who loses her husband and daughter, and how a young wizard must work to right an ancient wrong.

And it's McKillip's magic in describing the environment, food, and the smaller details of the lives of the folks in the kitchen of a great castle that shines for me. So much exquisite detail. This book is very much a primer for fantasy authors who wish to craft beautiful prose. Or for readers who wish to immerse in a slowly unfolding fairytale filled with awe and wonder to be savoured.