Sarah's Reviews > Wildwood Dancing

In Wildwood Dancing, Juliet Marillier introduces us to five sisters: sixteen-year-old Tatiana, the team mom; fifteen-year-old Jenica, the practical one; thirteen-year-old Iulia, the budding socialite; twelve-year-old Paula, the intellectual; and five-year-old Stela, who’s cute. They live in a castle, deep in the forests of Transylvania, sometime during the Renaissance. They have little company except their father, two loyal servants, and occasional visits from their relatives.

But every full moon, they follow a secret passage from their bedroom to a magical forest, to join the faeries’ dance. The fae are ruled by a mostly gracious but hot-tempered queen—but even Queen Ileana must answer to the mysterious witch Draguta, whom our five heroines have never seen.

This routine has been going on for years, resulting in many wonderful friendships between the girls and the benevolent wood-people—especially between Jena and her constant companion, the frog Gogu, with whom she has established a telepathic bond. But this year, change is on the wind—and Jena, our narrator, does not like it.

Fasten your seatbelts for what can only be described as Little Women meets A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Transylvania.

Setting
Marillier’s lush descriptive prose draws you so deep into this beautiful, spooky world that you can smell the mustiness of the secret passage, hear the ferrymen’s oars as they cross the enchanted lake, and see the merry torchlight of the dancing lawn and the clear stars above. You can tell from the concreteness of her descriptions that she has walked in these places, or at least places very much like them. This solidness makes the story—which is, like any good fairytale, full of metamorphoses and plot twists—seemed grounded, when it could easily become far-flung and flimsy in the hands of a less-skilled writer.

The Wildwood has many personalities. Ileana’s queendom is, like her, generous but mercurial. The sad, dead patch of forest ruled by the Night People tells you (almost) everything you need to know about them. Then there’s the sisters’ castle, Piscul Draculi, which, like Professor Kirke’s house in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, walks the fine line between cozy and creepy.

Plot
The sisters’ routine is disturbed first by the intrusion of the Night People on the Full Moon festivities. Their leader, the charismatic and sardonic Tadeusz, has an uneasy peace with Ileana, but she and her creatures are repulsed by the rumors of bloodshed hovering over him and his, which they do nothing to dispel.

One in Tadeusz’ group is a handsome, melancholy young man who goes by the apt name of Sorrow, who has never so much as opened his mouth during a Full Moon gathering. Sorrow instantly becomes enamored of the kind and beautiful Tatiana, who, much to the alarm of sensible Jena, soon returns his affections. Tati insists that Sorrow is not one of the Night People, despite all appearances. Jena is not convinced.

Back in the mortal world, the girls’ father is far away in the last hope that warmer air will save him. They are looked after by their kindly Uncle Nicholae, fussy Aunt Bogdana, and cousin Cezar, who is becoming increasingly difficult. Everyone knows Cezar has had an unpleasant youth—when he was eight, he witnessed his older brother drown, and even now it seems his parents value dead Costi more than him. Now a young man, he is prone to outbursts of rage and fears of the forest, and is especially unkind to Jena.

They are quickly running out of money with no way to replenish it, and winter is coming.

This brings us back to the Wildwood. Jena is sure the Night People will eventually start taking victims among the villagers. She fears not only for the villagers, but that hot-tempered Cezar and his accomplices might retaliate, catching her innocent faerie friends in the crossfire and probably doing little damage to the perpetrators.

It doesn’t help that dark, powerful Tadeusz himself is attracted to Jena and offers to help out. While she refuses his offer, he senses that she is both frightened of and fascinated by him, and decides to “help” anyway. But he tells her upfront that he will demand compensation for his kindness, and she knows the price will be terrible.

In addition to all these problems, which will affect many lives, Jena grapples with one that (at the moment) seems very small (though it turns out to be as big as any of the others): her dear little frog, her best friend since she was little, Gogu, has suddenly become moody and secretive. Occasionally he says strange things, about emotions that frogs usually don’t have or facts that he particularly could not have known.

Suffice that poor Jena has more responsibilities riding on her than a fifteen-year-old should. Who will help her? Ileana and her husband, Marin? Draguta, who has never shown herself at a Full Moon dance and may have no sympathy for a human? Or Tadeusz, who clearly acts upon his own ulterior motives?

As deaths, including her uncle’s, begin piling up among both the villagers and the forest-dwellers, Jena’s choice becomes very important indeed.

Characters
There’s quite a bit of Lizzy Bennet and Jo March in Jena, our protagonist. Lively and a bit sarcastic, she thinks she knows more than her gentle, romantic older sister, and is the boss in the absence of parents. She’s smart enough to know that her frog, Gogu, must really be a man in an enchanted form, but too oblivious to notice that he’s in love with her. I appreciated that she starts the book with frizzy hair and a flat chest, and she ends the book with frizzy hair and a flat chest, and plenty of men are still attracted to her.

Of the other four sisters, Tati is the most developed. Like Jane Bennet or Meg March, she’s the prettiest sister, and the kindest. She thinks the best of others even when she has every reason to be suspicious of them. Her soft heart immediately gives itself to Sorrow, a captive of the Night People. When Sorrow is in danger, Tati’s empathetic bond with him begins to drain her, to the point where people in the village think she’s either starving herself or turning into a Night Person. She has a close, tight relationship with Jena and is a good influence on her.

The younger girls are not as fleshed out, but their personalities are still distinct and bounce off each other nicely. Iulia is a Kitty Bennet or a less-obnoxious Amy March—she just wants a social life, some pretty dresses, and in time a handful of suitors.

Paula is an uptight little scholar who spends dance nights wrangling magical lore from wizards and mages, but she’s also the most level-headed girl in the group, who can take care of little Stela when the others are too busy being confused by boys. Think Mary Bennet, only useful and without the tone-deaf singing.

Stela is the only sister without an obvious Austen or Alcott analogue. At five years old, she doesn’t have much personality except being a cute, good-tempered child who doesn’t understand all the scary changes going on around her and clings to her adorable faerie friends for comfort.

Gogu/Costi is a swoon-worthy male lead, and not just for his aristocratic profile and beautiful emerald eyes. As a frog, he can be snide and funny, or mysteriously sad. As a man, he’s the soul of kindness, loving Jena from afar even when she has lashed out at him out of fear. He’s quiet and gentle and takes nothing for granted. He’s a bigger man than his brother without ever raising a hand to him, and it’s implied that after the book ends, he will become a respected leader in the community. Not as dastardly clever as Eugenides (The Thief, The Queen of Attolia) Howl ( Howl's Moving Castle ), or Vidanric (Crown Duel, Court Duel), but just as romantic and strong. He’s earned his spot in my Heroic Heartthrob Hall of Fame.

Sorrow has also earned a spot in the HHHF, even though he never speaks until the climax, for his risking his life on a near-suicidal quest to earn his sister’s ransom from the Night People. He redeems himself a thousand times over for any superficial resemblance he may bear to Edward Cullen. Also, he is not actually a vampire. Yay.

Tadeusz is a perfect vampire—proud, secretive, sultry, cool-headed, and Machiavellian. His wooing of Jena is portrayed exactly how it should be: intriguing, but never safe or good. On the surface, he can be flippant and selfish, even sadistic—but it is implied near the end (by Draguta, who would know) that there’s still a spark of good in him, and that he actually loves Jena in his fashion. Suffice that he works as either a pure villain or a tortured soul who yearns for goodness and light but is afraid to accept them.

Cezar starts out an insecure boy in a desperate rage to prove himself a man, and over the course of the novel it consumes him.

Draguta, the witch of the wood, is a laugh riot while at the same time being quite spooky. More than anyone else, she personifies the whimsy, both light and dark, that characterizes this novel.

Content Advisory for Teachers, Librarians, Parents, and Sensitive Kids
Violence: Uncle Nicholae is felled by a crossbow bolt to the chest in a hunting accident. He bleeds out on Cezar, who in his daze of grief leaves a trail of blood dripping from his garments all over the house.

When Tadeusz and his friends help Jena by mending the manor fence (even though she told them it was unnecessary), they compensate themselves by draining the blood from a village girl, who does not survive the ordeal. Her death is not shown.

This motivates Cezar and the other men of the village to scour the woods for the Night People, but Tadeusz and company are far too crafty for them. But Cezar does manage to capture an innocent dwarf—one of Ileana’s folk who has nothing to do with the vampires—tortures him (ostensibly for information), and murders him. The death of the dwarf, Anatolie, is not shown, but he was a friend of the sisters’.

The Night People enjoy torturing those who wander into their realm uninvited. When Tati and Jena foolishly accept Tadeusz’ invitation there, they witness vampires forcing an exhausted man to dance, and throwing sharp objects at a woman caught in a big bag like a cat.

A drunken Cezar hits Jena when she rejects his advances. When sober, he threatens her, her sisters, and their servants. He tries to throttle Costi.

Sex: Tadeusz is a sensual creature, and though his interactions with Jena are chaste, it is clear that he would like that to change eventually. He runs a fingertip down her neck at one point, causing Gogu to hop on him.

Cezar gets drunk at a party and pins Jena against the wall, forcing a kiss on her and attempting to molest her. Disgusted, she fights him off, and he strikes her.

At this same party, Iulia, who’s only thirteen but has the figure of an older girl, shows up in a low-cut gown, hoping to look like a grown-up. Before Jena can loan her a shawl or scarf, Cezar yells at Iulia, humiliating her in front of everyone.

Costi is nearly naked when he is unexpectedly returned to his human form.

Sorrow and Tati exchange what Hobbes (the tiger, not the guy who wrote Leviathan) would term “muchas smoochies”, but given the time period and what good kids they are, it’s unlikely that they did anything more.

Substance Abuse: People drink at a party—none of the main characters to the point of drunkenness save Cezar. This story takes place long before age limits were extant (or needed) on alcohol.

Possible Religious Conflict: Tadeusz says that crucifixes and garlic can’t keep his kind out, and the house of the girl they killed was said to be well-protected. However, Jena never witnesses this for herself, and Tadeusz may well have been bluffing.

Yet the Church isn't portrayed as useless here. Father Sandu, Paula’s tutor, who doesn’t even have any lines, is shown to be a wise, gentle man. He tutors a girl at a time when that was considered foolish at best and possibly subversive. Cezar stupidly banishes him from the village after the vampire attack, after which the situation gets steadily worse.

Language: None.

Conclusion
Wildwood Dancing hooks you with its glorious prose, makes you root for its characters, and pulls you so deep in that when a familiar fairytale plot twist occurs, you’re just as shocked as the characters are. The chapters are long and languidly paced, but if you’re like me, you won’t be able to put it down.

Finally, I hope they never change the cover art for this one. Kinuko Craft’s painting isn’t just gorgeous, but it’s full of details from the book that you won’t notice until you’ve read the whole thing.

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