Happy holiday, everyone! I wish I had a better present for you that this clusterfuck, but oh well. You (or at least, a minority of you) did ask for this.

Anyway. Last time on Gemma, everything went to hell. Now Gemma has to go back to defeat the shadow.

THERE ARE NO BIRDS. NO FLOWERS. NO SUNSET. THERE’S an eerie grayness to everything beyond the bright door. The empty boat is still on the river, stuck fast in a thin sheet of ice.

Eh.

I mean, this is serviceable, but not really interesting. Compare “an eerie grayness” to the lovely horror of Silent Hill’s atmosphere. Here, we’re told it’s creepy, but all that we actually know is that it’s dull and empty. And yes, this serves well enough as a contrast to what the place was before, but it only speaks of loss, not any new threat.

Gemma shouts that she’s here. Her mother appears and says it’ll be okay, but they have to hurry before the creature comes back.

“Put your hands on the runes.”
I hesitate. I don’t know why.

ARG.

To the last, Gemma is going to be running on feminine intuition and not actual intelligence. She is not suspicious of any of this, she just hesitates for no fucking reason at all.

“Gemma,” she says, green eyes narrowing. “You have to trust me or your friend will be lost forever. Do you want that on your conscience?”
I think of Pippa struggling in the icy water where she fell. Where I left her. My hands hover over the runes.
“That’s it, my darling. Everything’s forgotten now. Soon, we’ll be together again.”

Yup so she was hesitating because it’s the shadow. And although a completely innocuous statement makes her suspicious, her mother saying they’ll be together after telling Gemma she couldn’t stay no matter what doesn’t tip her off.

This is written backward. The hints should lead to Gemma hesitating, and then her mother should convince her and tell her to touch the runes. Instead, she hesitates early and is convinced by suspicious things.

So Gemma touches the runes, then touches her “mom”.

“At last . . .”
Instantly, the thing that hides in my mother’s shape emerges, rising high as the stones themselves.

Our heroine.

Anyway, this actually doesn’t make much sense. So the shadow was still locked out from the magic, even with Gemma opening the door? Or was it always barred from the magic and the locking just kept it from messing with people at all? Because that would work, but it doesn’t seem to be what we were told.

This new magic takes me by surprise as it surges through me, joining to my will. It is overwhelming, the raw nakedness of this power. I never want to let it go. I could use it to control, to wound, to win.
The creature cackles. “Yes . . . it’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”
Yes, oh, yes. Is this what my mother and Circe felt, what they were afraid of losing—a power they could not have in their own world? Anger. Joy. Ecstasy. Rage. All theirs. All mine.

Uh…no? They had access to the same power you’ve already been using. And your mother wasn’t afraid of losing the power, only Sarah was.

Also hey look! Evil is women having power. Go on, Gemma, nobly give it up.

“You could rule it,” it says, nearly licking my ear.
Yes, yes, yes.
No. Not really. Not attached to this creature. The power would never be mine. It would control me. No, no, no. Let it win. Be joined. I’m weary with choice. It makes me heavy. So heavy I could sleep forever. Let Circe win. Abandon my family and friends. Float downstream.

And then Gemma thinks no, and it starts weakening.

You have to know yourself, know what you want. That’s what Mother told me. What I want . . . what I want . . .
I want to go back.

The thing is yanked back and throws a tantrum. This is the scary shadow? All it take to beat it is to say no thanks.

Well, it is still there and now it’s started strangling her, so there’s that at least.

Overhead, the sky roils gray and black. We sat here and counted clouds in the blue. Blue as my mother’s silk dress. Blue as a promise. A hope. She came back for me. I can’t leave her to this.

So apparently that isn’t the shadow taking her mom’s form, it actually is her mom. You know what would have been a great idea? Actually laying out what the shadow can and can’t do. Because earlier we were told it was a master of illusion and disguise, and certainly looking at the timeline, the only way it could have talked to Felicity seems to be if it was the huntress the whole time.

She forgives her mom and the shadow loses its form. Gemma takes advantage of this to act.

I grab a rock and smash the first rune. It crumbles in a shower of crystal rain, and I smash the second.

Oh for fuck’s sake, does anyone ever have a plan that isn’t “destroy the magic for everybody to deal with one person”?

Once Gemma has finished destroying an ancient power that women have had for untold millennia, the shadow turns to smoke and is sucked away into the sky. There’s no sign of her mother.

Well, how about Kartik’s brother? You saw him running around in the Winterlands, and you’ve killed the empowered shadow. Maybe he’s still there. You could go save him, or at least yank him to a nicer section so he can maybe move on instead of turning into another shadow. At least check.

Nope, she just keeps thinking about her mom.

In some ways, the mother I remember was as much an illusion as the leaves we turned into butterflies on our first trip to the realms. I’m going to have to let her go to accept the mother I’m only just discovering. One who was capable of murder, but who fought the dark to come back to help me.

…maybe? There doesn’t seem to be much sign staying in the realms is a struggle for dead people, and the fact she said she can’t move on until she’s forgiven suggests it wasn’t really a fight at all.

A scared, vain woman

Oh fuck you too, book.

The only time we know of her being scared is when she’s the sixteen year old. She tries to avoid the problem because she’s scared for Gemma because she knows it’s Gemma who has the power to open the realms.

And she’s not vain at all at any fucking point. But she’s a woman and she’s not perfect, so she must be scared and vain and pathetic. Fuck this.

Next, Gemma goes to rescue Pippa. Can it get worse? Yes it fucking can.

To pull her out, I have to plunge my hand into that murky, forbidden river. It’s warm as a bath. Inviting and calm. I’m tempted to submerge myself in that water, but not yet.

Why is it so nice when it’s still frozen over? Why “not yet” instead of “not ever”, since it’s obviously some sort of trick?

to take you back.”
Those violet eyes open.
“Back.” She turns the word over softly, glances longingly at the river, whose secrets I both want to
know and want to keep far from me, for now. “What will happen to me?”
I have no more magic left for lies. “I don’t know.”
“Mrs. Bartleby Bumble, then?”

Pippa prefers drowning.

“You have to come back. You just have to.”
“Have to . . . my whole life has been that.”
“It could change . . .”
She shakes her head. “I’m not a fighter. Not like you.” In the winter-brittle grass, she finds a small handful of shriveled berries, no bigger than seeds. They rest in her palm like coins.

Why the fuck aren’t you a fighter? When did this happen? YOU HAVE FUCKING MAGIC WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!

My throat aches. “But if you eat them . . .”
“What was it Miss Moore said? There are no safe choices. Only different ones.” She takes a last look at the river, and her hand flies to her mouth. There’s a moment when it’s so quiet that I can hear the ragged edges of my breathing. And then color flows beneath her skin, the hair curling into ringlets, the cheeks a vibrant rose. She’s radiant. All around me, the land is coming alive again in a ripple of blooms and golden leaves. On the horizon, a new pink sky is born. And the knight stands waiting, her glove in his hand.

That’s right kids. Suicide is the answer. Don’t try to deal with the real world or real people.

This is happening after Gemma fixes things. This is the good end. This is not a sign the entire thing was unhealthy, it’s not a sign Pippa needed help, it’s Pippa’s fucking happy ending, suicide so she can be with an animated doll that repeats whatever she wants back at her. She might as well not have bothered going back to the realm to rescue her.

Also, remember before?

I’m weary with choice. It makes me heavy. So heavy I could sleep forever. Let Circe win. Abandon my family and friends. Float downstream.

And then Gemma says no because that’s BAD. Giving up is BAD. Leaving everyone else is BAD. Sleeping forever is BAD. But now we’re told it’s fine. You owe Mr. Bumble an apology, Gemma. Clearly women do need men to make all their decisions because otherwise it’s too hard.

She goes back to the real world to find everyone crying over Pippa’s death. Because that’s what just happened. You watched her die.

Then it’s time for the funeral.

In deep, resonant tones, the vicar tells us of Pippa’s beauty and her unfailing goodness. I don’t know this flat placard of a girl. I wish I could stand and give a full account of her—the Pippa who could be vain and selfish and in love with her romantic illusions; the Pippa who was also brave and determined and generous. And even if I told them all this, it still wouldn’t be a full measure of her.

Nope, “in love with her romantic illusions” covers it fine. That’s really all that mattered. She wasn’t brave or determined when her final words are that trying is hard and she’d rather just give up and die.

She was not particularly selfish – at most, self-centered, and even then it seemed more an issue of normal sixteen year old obliviousness. Was she generous? Perhaps, but not during this book.

And she was not, at all, vain. She was pretty. Prettiness is a thing she was born with, and she hated it. Saying her appearance makes her vain is fucked up.

She was a bit more than a flat placard of character, but not much, and you can’t retcon it otherwise now.

Kartik is lurking for the funeral in his conspicuous black cloak that no one else notices.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s simple and direct, with none of the nonsense about God calling home an angel too young and who are we to question his mysterious ways. Rain beats against my umbrella in a steady rhythm.
“I let her go,” I say, haltingly, glad at last of the chance to make a confession of sorts. “I suppose I could have tried harder to stop her. But I didn’t.”

There’s no “of sorts”. You let her die. God didn’t do this, you did.

She wonders if he’ll tell the Order.

Not that it matters. I’ve already made my decision. The realms are my responsibility now. Somewhere out there, Circe waits, and I’ve got an Order to put together again, mistakes to remedy, many things to master in time.

Well not many since you smashed the runes. I assume that doesn’t actually do anything since this is only book one, but that renders the whole scene nonsense. And there are still older Order members around, so why would Gemma be in charge? Especially since her having control of the realms has been one long disaster.

Instead, Kartik says she has a smudge of dirt on her face.

“Here.” It’s only his thumb brushing slowly across the lower edge of my lip, but it’s as if time slows and the sweep of that thumb below my mouth takes forever. It is no spell that I know of, but it holds such magic, I can scarcely breathe. He pulls his hand away fast, aware of what he’s done. But his touch lingers.

YOUR FRIEND COMMITTED SUICIDE WHILE YOU WATCHED AND YOU’RE NOW AT HER FUNERAL.

She tells Kartik there’s no going back.

I realize he’s not certain whether I mean there’s no backing away from my powers or from his touch. I start to clarify but I realize I’m not certain either.

So you’re totally certain there’s no going back, but you’re not certain what you mean there’s no going back with. That’s a very interesting level of certain.

When I join the others again, Felicity is staring at the new grave, crying in the rain. “She’s really gone, isn’t she?”

That’s right, the girl who started this book viciously tormenting anyone she could to pass the time is the only one with a conscience.

It’s unclear here if Felicity even knows what happened, particularly considering the emphasis on Gemma telling Kartik the truth. So it seems Gemma does understand that what happened is wrong, or at least to the degree she knows her remaining friends would be horrified.

Felicity is also scared she’s been warped by the shadow.

The rain is a cool kiss on my sleeve as I link my arm through hers. “We’re all damaged somehow.”

Yes, but she’s worried about being actually having her personality rewritten by an incredibly powerful evil monster which will then use her to hurt others while you’re just whiny.

The final chapter is your usual wrapup. Gemma does pages of French translation and impresses the teacher with her diligence. She talks about how Pippa’s slowly being forgotten.

I do not know if she regrets her choice. I like to think of her as I saw her last, walking confidently toward something I shan’t see, I hope, for a very long time.

Well if she wasn’t DEAD you could still ask her. And you at least can recognize it’s bad enough to be scared of it happening to you.

In a world beyond this one, that river goes on singing sweetly, enchanting us with what we want to hear, shaping what we need to see in order to keep going.

NO. Not what you need to keep going. It sure as fuck didn’t help Pippa do that. It didn’t help Felicity either. And Ann would probably have done just as well just by having halfway supportive friends.

Finally, she goes to see Kartik. Kartik has been messing around with a cricket bat that is either “makeshift” or “old” depending on the sentence, despite the two things having different meanings. She leaves him her dad’s nice one, even though I have no idea how she got her dad’s when he’s nowhere around and I can’t imagine how she’d have explained asking for it.

forgiveness . . . I’ll hold on to that fragile slice of hope and keep it close, remembering that in each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We’re each of us our own chiaroscuro , our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We’ve got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself.

Oh good, as long as Gemma forgives herself I guess it’s fine.

Across the ravine, I see her in the dry crackle of leaves. A deer. She spies me and bolts through the trees. I run after her, not really giving chase. I’m running because I can, because I must.
Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.

And that’s the end of the book.

Well. It wasn’t fucking Summoning. And it was an actual end.

The book started, not well, but entertainingly. It was very readable badness. As with so many published books, it collapsed under its own weight as the author’s slipshod plotting slowly took its toll. At various points I’ve said that the particular part seems like it’s part of a different story, and that problem only got worse over time.

What can they do with magic? They can change statues, turn invisible and super fast to mess with minor items, release spirits from marble, and remove tough grass stains. Can they do anything useful? Who knows. They never even try it. We have no idea what the limits are – from how it’s written, apparently none.

How does the Order work? It’s a bunch of women. That’s all we know. They don’t seem to even meet up in the realms, the only person Mary says is mentoring them turns out to there at the school as well. What does the Order do? Apparently jack shit with occasional cave paintings. Are men ever born with the power? Who knows. Can men be let in by someone with the power? Who knows. How many women have the power? Who knows. Are there women in the order who had power but lost it like Sarah? Who knows. Is there anyone there who’s never had the power and just rode along like the present-day gang? Who. Knows.

What the hell is the Rakshana? Why don’t they send anyone other than one seventeen year old? Why does he just watch and threaten occasionally but never act? How can they be so secure in their power if the Order was in charge just two decades ago? What were they even doing before then? Why was one of their members the servant of a woman who opposed their goals?

How was the shadow acting in the real world if the realms were closed? Why isn’t Circe around to do stuff? Why did it need Gemma to give it the power if it’s already in the realms? Why does she think she can still do stuff with the runes smashed?

These kinds of questions don’t make me want to read the next book to find out, because writing so badly they aren’t answered means that either they never will be or it’ll be a terrible asspull of an explanation when it finally arrives.

And, of course, the content. The Gypsies were just there to be fae and rapey. Hot Indian Boy is there to be Hot Indian Boy. And as with so many books for girls, the empowering message was that female power is power over others and wanting any other kind (or wanting, period) is evil. Oh, and beauty is goodness and goodness beauty, unless you’re prettier than the main character in which case you wrap back to bad again, and also you’re a vain bitch. Finally, there’s nothing wrong with building your life around an impossible fantasy or killing yourself because you like it better than the real world.

The seducing power of having power is bad but the seducing power of death? Awesome. Now lace yourself a bit tighter in the corset, men find lung damage attractive. And if they don’t, no worries, just kill yourself :DDD