The Wolf and the Woodsman Blurb
In her forest-veiled pagan village, Évike is the only woman without power, making her an outcast clearly abandoned by the gods. The villagers blame her corrupted bloodline—her father was a Yehuli man, one of the much-loathed servants of the fanatical king. When soldiers arrive from the Holy Order of Woodsmen to claim a pagan girl for the king’s blood sacrifice, Évike is betrayed by her fellow villagers and surrendered.
But when monsters attack the Woodsmen and their captive en route, slaughtering everyone but Évike and the cold, one-eyed captain, they have no choice but to rely on each other. Except he’s no ordinary Woodsman—he’s the disgraced prince, Gáspár Bárány, whose father needs pagan magic to consolidate his power. Gáspár fears that his cruelly zealous brother plans to seize the throne and instigate a violent reign that would damn the pagans and the Yehuli alike. As the son of a reviled foreign queen, Gáspár understands what it’s like to be an outcast, and he and Évike make a tenuous pact to stop his brother.
As their mission takes them from the bitter northern tundra to the smog-choked capital, their mutual loathing slowly turns to affection, bound by a shared history of alienation and oppression. However, trust can easily turn to betrayal, and as Évike reconnects with her estranged father and discovers her own hidden magic, she and Gáspár need to decide whose side they’re on, and what they’re willing to give up for a nation that never cared for them at all.
First Impression
I was really excited to read this book because it ticked a lot of boxes for me. Fantasy rooted in mythology? Yes, please. Star-crossed lovers? Yes, please. Political turmoil? Yes, please! But I found this one hard to finish. It’s written beautifully, the world is rich and fascinating, but the romance was a tough pill to swallow. I’m a little biased because romance I’m something I’m highly conceptual about and it’s usually what will carry me to the end of a story. If that’s not up to snuff, I need angst or political intrigue or some kind of mystery to feel motivated to finish.
Well, let me just tip my hat to a good storyteller. I felt depressed through the entire book, but I finished it because of the storytelling. The book itself is so unique and interesting and well written. I was THIS close to loving it. I’m sure you will if you don’t have any hang-ups about toxic romance. As for me, that’s why I almost DNF’d.
Character
One thing I loved about this book is that the characters are all very complex. They have their own motives, all of which are understandable given their backgrounds, and they create a patchwork of actions that send the plot zigging and zagging. I haven’t seen such a great understanding of people and the human condition in many books.
Our MC, Évike, is a wolf girl with no magic. Because she’s magically barren and of mixed ancestry, she’s an outcast in her village and suffers severe bullying. Bullying includes things like “accidentally” burning her, beatings, verbal abuse, and even rough (consensual) sex. I mean this girl hasn’t felt warmth or affection from anyone (other than her BFF) since her mom was taken (and presumably killed) when she was young.
TL;DR her life is fucked up. Everything about her leaves you with a sense of helplessness and hopelessness.
So, it’s understandable and realistic that she’s defensive, even in the face of kindness. Unfortunately, her character growth is lacking. Does she grow? Yes. Is she transformed? No. And with such a flawed character, you really, REALLY crave that transformation because there’s no other source of hope in the entire book. As in, everything (the world, not the writing) is bad and there’s no hope for it getting better, so why am I reading?
Is it realistic to expect such a transformation in this world? I’m still on the fence about that. This was the first time I thought a book could do with a little LESS realism. Sometimes we lose the point of the story if we bind ourselves to realism. IRL, good doesn’t always conquer evil. It’s a pervasive theme in the stories we tell because it gives us hope and encourages us to persevere. It teaches us morals. It teaches us faith and trust and positivity. We need that hope because it gives us the courage to live, rather than just survive.
Anyways. The love interest, Gáspár was great. I think I saw someone describe him as a secret cinnamon roll and I guess I agree (it’s only a secret for the first ~25% of the book TBH). He’s cold at first, but our MC realizes very quickly just how soft and gentle he is. He’s basically an ideal mate. That doesn’t mean he’s perfect–he’s got plenty of flaws–but he’s perfect as a love interest because he checks a lot of those boyfriend wishlist boxes.
To the point I couldn’t understand why he fell in love with Évike at all. Their romance came off as survival bonding, at least on his end, and felt toxic at times. Évike isn’t nice to him for maybe 75% of the novel. Like, she is downright emotionally abusive. She pokes at him much like a little boy might pull the hair of the girl he likes to get her attention. Eyeroll. It feels childish on her end (but understandable given her trauma) and when he comes around it just feels like he has Stockholm syndrome. She pokes him and pokes him and finally one day he is inexplicably devoted to her. Huh? Well, that’s plenty realistic–there’s even a word for it: codependence–but do I want to ship it? Hell no.
It would’ve read better (in my opinion) if Évike had initiated the relationship by being nice because she liked him and wanted him to like her back. That would have at least established a healthier dynamic, rather than painting the prince as codependent. I would’ve even tipped my hat at her character growth since that does take a higher EQ than she seemed to have. Does it make sense in the enemies-to-lovers motif? Well, I’ve seen it played well that way, but who knows with such a troubled MC. Is it realistic? Hm. I guess I value healthy messages over realism.
World
This world is unique and yet familiar. We see very clear parallels to not only historical (and even contemporary) religions and cultures, but also politics. The fairytales sprinkled throughout add a texture that feels warm and inviting, which you need if you want to survive the often hopeless political setting.
The magic and politics at play in this world are wonderfully complex. There’s a lot of prejudice and plenty of conflict stems from it. I loved the mythology of each culture and especially how familiar the dominant culture’s constant hypocrisy was.
Storytelling
The storytelling was phenomenal. Ava Reid can spin a yarn. A read a few reviews that were critical of the quantity of myths and legends and I’ll admit that occasionally it felt like filler, but I really enjoyed them. Not gonna lie, there have been times where I read a book exclusively for the mythos. This wasn’t one of those, but it came close.
There is a lot of interesting commentary about religion, politics, trauma, and the human condition that I really enjoyed. I love reading books that have depth–especially when there’s political and social commentary. The world, the characters–they all felt so real. To the point where it was a little depressing. The entire xx,000 words felt like an American presidential election: everyone was just trying to choose the lesser of two evils. Even the epilogue: Though I found the realism satisfying, I have to admit it was kind of depressing.
Add to that the way the characters were just running around in circles trying to avoid the obvious solution only to get forced into it, anyways; the majority of the book felt a little . . . pointless. That’s a common story structure, though, so maybe I’m just biased.
Final Thoughts
2.5/5. I really wanted to like it more. It’s a breakout book and the writing is phenomenal. I definitely want to see more from Ava Reid. But I can’t rate a book high–no matter how well written–if I struggled to finish it.
I can gush about the storytelling and the world and the characters all day long, but when push comes to shove, the truth is that I had to take long breaks between reads. One reason for that was I found the main character tedious, but that’s not the core problem for me. I’m not a reader that needs to like an MC in order to like a book. But I do expect to see either a healthy romance depicted in a positive light, or a toxic romance depicted in a negative light.
Add to that the running-in-circles aspect of the plot and the general hopelessness pervading the story, I found myself tempted a few times to just skip to the end or read the Wikipedia synopsis. I didn’t. Take from that what you will. I’m a chronic DNFer and I didn’t DNF. It’s a good book, just not for me.
Recommended Reading
Iron and Magic by Ilona Andrews
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