The Book of Snow and Silence by Zoe Marriott

Girls of Paper & Fire meets A Game of Thrones in THE BOOK OF SNOW & SILENCE, a darkly romantic queer fantasy inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid.

Fierce Princess Theoai is devastated when betrayal by her own sister destroys her chance to inherit their mother’s crown. Exiled across the sea to wed a prince she has never met, she soon finds that taking possession of her new crown will be more perilous than she could ever have imagined. The snowy realm of Silinga is rotten to the core, and Theoai’s handsome Prince is spoiled and reckless, with eyes only for the beautiful mute who washed up on the shore the day after Theoai’s arrival: Shell. But though she enchants the entire palace with her unearthly dancing, Shell is more than just a romantic rival, and against her will Theoai is drawn to her. As they both navigate the glittering, treacherous court, their relationship changes from hostility to friendship – and then to a love that will shake the very foundations of the cold kingdom that seeks to tear them apart.

THE BOOK OF SNOW & SILENCE is a sweeping, Feminist novel of enchantment, ambition and, above all, love.

---

Take in that cover, people. Absorb it. Let it sit for a while.

Ah. That was soothing, wasn't it?

I love a fairy tale retelling, especially one that digs into the background and really builds a functioning civilization out of the bits we're given. The queen of this, for me, has always been Shannon Hale, and the jewel in her crown is the Book of a Thousand Days. Maybe it's destiny that the Book of Snow and Silence is drawing level with her.

Zoe has created three completely functioning civilizations, although we don't see much of the mermaids and we're never actually in Yamarr at all. However, since Theoai often thinks of Yamarr and contrasts her new home with it, we gain quite a good picture of it.

Without ever actually being told, we know that Yamarr is a desert country, probably somewhere in what we'd think of as Africa, and that Silingana is at the very least a Nordic country, maybe even more northerly, like Greenland. (I know this novel isn't actually set in this world, but it helps me grasp the distances and differences.) Zoe evokes the sights and sounds of these countries so well. I was shivering for most of the novel.

I loved Theo; she's fierce and clever and loving, and we never get to see the 'other princess's point of view. She's usually condescendingly kind, but there was none of that here. I liked Shell. She's brave and strong and smart, and we could see all that even though this wasn't her point of view. I didn't hate Uldar. He was just young and coddled. Katja was lovely. Several other characters now feel very real to me. There'll be ice palaces and Northern Lights in my dreams for a while. (But hopefully not bears. They were scary.)

The writing is smooth and lyrical. Several things mentioned in passing became important later on, and I didn't realise (character spoiler censored here) at all, which is very unusual for me; I almost always catch that kind of thing. I also didn't guess that (minor spoiler censored here, sorry guys!)

I've loved Zoe's books since the days of Shadows on the Moon. I was so thrilled to hear about this new one and so glad to get to read it. I'm really looking forward to holding a copy in my hands once it goes on sale. I think this will be really popular with fans of fairy tales, or clever stories, or beautiful writing. I hope there's more in the series; I'd love to explore more of this fabulous, magical world.

This room was not large, but it was beautifully appointed. Roughly circular, with walls of a strange silvery colour and texture. The floors were thick with plush, soft rugs in shades of blue and silver which made it pleasant to walk even in my bare feet. The bed was a four poster, hung with silky material, draped lavishly so that so that it pooled on the rugs. There were no windows. The light streamed down, chilly and just as blue as the silk, from a round glass cupola in the high, white ceiling.

And it was silent. Utterly silent. I could have thrown a pin from one end of the room to the other and heard it fall. If, of course, I had owned a pin.

Wrapping my arms around myself and wishing for something to wear - anything, even a dressing gown - I walked uncertainly through the adjoining chamber. A dressing room, complete with cabinets, dressing table, mirrors and the other expected fittings, all empty because the possessions that should have adorned them were now bait for fish. The final chamber would be my receiving room. Much smaller than my public room at home, and again, circular. The furnishings were rich velvets and brocades in shades of midnight, with the odd accent of silver and white. There was a nook with a writing desk of pale wood. I gravitated towards it, absently picking up the leather bound book that sat on the blotter to flick through its pages. The thick cream paper was blank. A journal, then, probably intended to record social engagements.

I closed it and brought it to my chest, wrapping my arms around it. Any book, even a blank one, was better than none.