A Breton princess at the peak of the French Renaissance, Lilac lives prisoner in her parents' castle after a wicked secret is revealed on the eve of her tenth birthday soirée. Years later, her coronation ceremony looms, and between the riotous townsfolk and scheming nobleman bent on snatching the throne, Lilac prepares for the worst... Until a mysterious letter arrives from The Witch of Lupine Grotto, detailing a curious offer to cure her darkness forever. Lilac begrudgingly trades her coronet for a cloak and ventures into the forest Brocéliande in pursuit of the impious enchantress at the edge of town. With only the protection of an inherited dagger-and unsolicited help of the sardonic stranger who inserts himself on her quest-she must traverse Brocèliande and return in time to claim her rightful position as sovereign monarch. This is the story of a cursed princess, A crestfallen killer, The town that wants them to burn, And the witch that can save them both.
I began reading this book right as COVID-19 was making its way across the United States back in March and it was a welcome escape from the unknown of the world at that moment. In fact, it was a safer home.
I'd known about Disenchanted for a year or so before its publication, as the author is one of my dearest friends. I'd watched the growth, the frustration, and the "lightbulb moments" before Brianna released her literary baby into the world. Watching the transition from idea to novel was like being a proud parent on the side of your child's sports game: anxiety-inducing, impatient, proud, and prouder. I was honored when Brianna asked me to write the foreword for the book and also panicked. I still to this day don't know whether I did a disservice to her work or not by accepting the invitation to this incredible offer. Nonetheless, I am incredibly grateful for the trust she placed in me to do this.
A little about Brianna, without going too deep into personal. Brianna is incredible to me. There's a multitude of reasons why, one of which is that she managed to transcend the most horrific part of her life with an immeasurable amount of grace, and redirected overwhelming grief into a creative outlet -- this book. I think there's little more that speaks about depth of character than that. I am not sure that the result of my grief would be anything as beautiful and unifying. Book aside, I am incredibly proud of her for this feat.
Now, about the book. Perhaps you had a chance to read the blurb at the beginning of this post. I won't reiterate what the story is about but I will tell you how the book spoke to me.
The book had me reevaluate the traits we celebrate in humans. No one ever wants to discuss the raw and ugly parts of being human -- bitterness, anxiety, naivete, sadness, grief, violence, etc. Yet, those parts make us equally human as the good parts. This book reminded me that there is worth in embracing the parts of us that we often disdain. Perhaps anxiety makes us more compassionate. Perhaps naivete makes us live more. Perhaps grief makes us more appreciative. Princess Lilac grapples with finding who she is after a life spent in isolation, and her journey to understand the light and dark in her reminded me of the journey we all take trying to balance those opposites in ourselves. Maybe it isn't really about balance though, but about acknowledging how each plays a role in the diversity of our thoughts, behaviors, choices, and actions. Maybe understanding that makes us more human rather than less.
The book reminded me that risk isn't without fear, but that sometimes risk is the path to greater understanding. Remaining stagnant, like Lilac, does not encourage growth. Lilac was able to understand herself so much more after taking a leap into the unknown. Honestly. this is an aspect of vulnerability that I struggle with. I don't like risks because it means a lack of control. Disenchanted reminded me though that a lack of control oftentimes stifles the overwhelming fear from freezing us in place. The unimaginable situation alleviates the imaginable fears.
Disenchanted is a brilliant ode to becoming oneself and in accepting the parts of us that are more controversial. It reminds us that the ugliness we see in ourselves is the beauty others see. It reminds us that sometimes we have to tackle our own scary forests to find our way home and, often, that home was within us all along.
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