T. Kingfisher stories have a kind of magic for me. They seem to be exactly what I need to read at that point in time.
The Seventh Bride is the tale of a fifteen-year-old girl who gets betrothed to a noble, much to her dismay. When she is finally required to go to his house, she meets three other women who are somewhat reluctant to share their stories. It doesn’t take long before the girl makes up her mind that this is not a place she wants to stay.
Mind you; this isn’t entirely a feminist tale. Or maybe it is, in the sense that it respects the range of female experiences and coping skills, particularly in the area of male-female relationships. At any rate, though it is ostensibly about Bluebeard, it’s really mostly about the women. It’d be a fascinating book to discuss in context of the Bechdel test, honestly.
But it’s also about one young woman facing her fears, even if the reasons change each time she does so (nostalgia/longing, fear, anger, desperation). And that is a message I need to hear. Good stuff, but not immediately re-readable, unlike The Tomato Thief, which I immediately re-read after finishing.