Seeing as I complained a lot about The Bear and the Nightingale, the first part of Katherine Arden's Winternight trilogy, it's only fair to admit that I enjoyed the two other books in the trilogy a great deal. There's a story behind me having the first two books and therefore deciding to push on with part two, The Girl in the Tower, in spite of being doubtful after book number one. Originally, when on one of my London trips (how long ago it feels), I wanted to buy The Girl in the Tower. A kindly bookseller at Waterstones, Piccadilly then pointed out to me that this was actually the second part of a trilogy and went to a great deal of trouble to dig out the first part for me. I then didn't have the heart to say: "I'll just take that one, then, in case I don't like it", and ended up with both. So much for "soulless chain stores". Anyway, I was so agreeably surprised by The Girl in the Tower that I actually ordered the final book, The Winter of the Witch, and I wasn't disappointed.
The kindly bookseller wasn't wrong to press The Bear and the Nightingale on me. The books don't really work as standalone novels: they have to be read together, and in the right order. Part one is very much the weakest in my view, though. One reason I got into The Girl in the Tower as well as I did was that it seemed to take some pains to rectify what had annoyed me in The Bear and the Nightingale. For one thing, the heroine, Vasya, is acknowledged to be flawed, and her recklessness - admired by friend and foe alike in The Bear and the Nightingale - isn't always a good thing. Maybe I've just watched too many Frozen 2 reviews on YouTube, but people seem obsessed with "actions having consequences" nowadays, and when they don't - as in Frozen 2 - it's seen as bad writing. I don't know how I feel about this generally: I don't want the fiction I consume to be too much like cautionary tales and I lean towards narratives where characters can behave badly without it having any consequence whatsoever. But I have to admit, it was nice to see Vasya's wild-child behaviour met with some scepticism from her brother Sasha - a warrior monk and adviser to the Grand Prince of Moscow - and her sister Olga, who lives the traditional life of a nobleman's wife rejected by Vasya and has to make that work for herself and her family. Both siblings have to shield Vasya, who shows up in their life in the middle of a heroic adventure dressed as a boy. If she's found out, Olga risks disgrace for herself, her husband and her children, and Sasha risks losing the friendship and trust of Grand Prince Dmitrii, just when the Prince needs a sensible adviser the most. To make matters worse, Vasya dabbles in magic, too.
Not only is Vasya no longer fawned upon in The Girl in the Tower, her relationship with Morozko, the Winter King of this trilogy, is also revealed to be more complicated than she imagined. I never quite warmed to Morozko in The Bear and the Nightingale, which is a little strange, as I'm usually partial to Winter Kings, Frost Knights and the like. Perhaps it was partly due to folklorian differences. A beardless, black-curled Winter King with "intense blue eyes" as if he were Paul Newman? Come on. He needs to have a white beard and flowing white hair, surely? Mostly, though, it was because I didn't enjoy the awkwardly romantic scenes between Morozko and Vasya. Romances between fearsome immortal magical beings and mortal maidens can work, but in this instance it just felt embarrassing, and I thought less of Morozko for being sweet on Vasya. In The Girl in the Tower, however, it is revealed that though Morozko cares for Vasya in his way, he is also using her. This makes a lot of sense, otherwise his coming to her aid incessantly would become tiresome (it still is, especially the way she takes it for granted). Vasya is given a shake-up by contemplating the possibility that far from being the Winter King's One True Love, she may just be one in a string of silly girls who keep him alive and powerful by way of their pining. She rebels - only to realise that in doing so she has severely limited his ability to help her when she needs him.
Apart from not gushing over Vasya so much and throwing a much-needed spanner in the romantic works, The Girl in the Tower is an exciting story, more so than the slow-moving The Bear and the Nightingale. But there's one thing The Bear and the Nightingale has that The Girl in the Tower doesn't have - and that's the Bear. He's the Winter King's wicked, one-eyed brother Medved who can raise the dead, and a fun villain. The bad guy of the The Girl in the Tower is perfectly all right - though the villain reveal doesn't come as a vast surprise - and I certainly approve of his chosen profession (mighty sorcerer). But the Bear was the best thing about the first book, and I was a bit disappointed when he didn't return in The Girl in The Tower, except in a brief dream vision. In book number three, though, he is back in full force.
The Winter of the Witch was my favourite in the trilogy, and this time around I had some time even for its flaws. I rather admired the way Arden didn't follow the standard advice on how a story should be constructed given by those in the know - because it's her story, hang it, and she'll do what she likes with it. The narrative culminates in a great battle against the Tatars - intimidating, I'm sure, but they seem small fry compared to the supernatural threats which have gone before. But the battle is important to Arden and to her characters, so it becomes the grand finale. The Bear turns out to live up to his promising villain beginnings with gusto - I didn't much care for the humour in the trilogy generally, but Medved's sarcasms always made me smile. His relationship with the tormented Father Konstantin, who finally changes from pathetic sap to an antagonist to be reckoned with, is far more fascinating than the Vasya-Morozko romance (though the way the rift is healed between these two makes their love story feel more earned and much more bearable). Then, there comes a perfect exit scene for the Bear, which has Vasya wondering whether she has done the right thing after all. Surely storytelling experts would say: "Yes! Stop there!". Arden doesn't: she hauls the Bear back into the narrative, with ever so slightly diminishing returns: he's still fun, though, so I'm not complaining.
Another storytelling decision, which would surely have creative-writing advisers and adherents to the "actions have consequences" school of thought tearing their hair, I can't fully reveal as it would be too much of a spoiler. I can say this much: there's a major, dramatic event in The Winter of the Witch, which has a profound impact on Vasya. We see her process it and come to terms with it. And then, right at the very end, Arden back-pedals completely. I wonder if she really meant to originally, or if somewhere along the way she thought "screw it, all this 'life goes on though bad things happen blah blah' is all very well, but I want to give my girl a break". From a storytelling perspective, it may not be ideal, but I understand why Arden did it and find it endearing. Also, readers who are more invested in Vasya than I ever managed to be will thank her for it.
