The Language of Thorns by Leigh Bardugo takes a deeper dive into the Grishaverse in a series of shockingly dark tales. Containing six hauntingly beautiful and disturbing short stories, all of which are inspired by famous tales, such as The Little Mermaid, Hansel and Gretel, and The Nutcracker, this book is an enchanting read. Bardugo doesn’t retell these well-known stories, rather she weaves a brand new story with a subtle nod to them.

Through lush, marvelous illustrations and words that warm your heart only to tear it from your chest, Bardugo tells tales that stir a wave of unease that you cannot quell. You think you know where the story goes, but the ending is always unconventional and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth; they teach you that, perhaps, you got all the stories wrong. You delve into dangerous magic, you’re outsmarted by pretty facades, and deep down, you’re grateful you never heard these tales when you were only a child, craving adventure and romance, because you have been doomed to a childhood deprived of sleep. But with her deliciously creepy tales, Leigh Bardugo takes you back to Ravka, Fjerda, and Kerch, to lands familiar yet peculiar, where you once experienced joy, heartbreak, and love in her earlier stories like Shadow and Bone and Six of Crows.

These stories are the perfect kind of fairytale. They are as close to feeling “real” as a fairytale can get. These stories take a sharp turn from typical tropes, depicting the harsh realities of life: the heroine does not always ride into the sunset on the back of her one true love’s steed. Her one true love may be cruel, greedy, or manipulative, the ones meant to protect her are those who inflict devastating pain, and fairy godmothers do not always save the day. Bardugo takes fairy tale tropes apart, examines their assumptions, and recasts them in new and often much more logical ways, often with an eye toward feminist values and the empowerment of women. “We were not made to please princes.”

To be honest, I felt disconcerted when reading certain parts of these stories. Bardugo digs deep down into your heart, your soul, your body, your mind until you are forced to confront the ultimate question: who are you? “The sound was so ugly. Was it? Or was it just something you hadn’t heard before?” While fantastical in nature, these tales confront very real human experiences which are usually quite dark and morbid, but also enlightening. This book made me truly think; think about myself, think about how I choose to define myself, and whether I’ve ever had the opportunity to actually do so in the first place.

Each page of these stories is framed by Sara Kipin’s illustrations, which gradually morph from page to page until bursting into full flower with a two-page illustration at the end of each story. It reminded me of a picture book, which was fitting considering that these were twisted versions of books I’d read in my childhood.

While this definitely isn’t a light read, it was certainly a fast one. The concept draws you in, and soon you are stuck in the pages of a familiar yet somehow completely novel world. This is a perfect book for anyone longing to return to the Grishaverse. The Language of Thorns invites the reader to share in the characters’ learning and growing experiences, their triumphs, and their heartbreaks.