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* “A huge work of massive ambition.”—Publishers Weekly, Starred
It has been a year of change since Gemma Doyle arrived at the foreboding Spence Academy. Her mother murdered, her father alaudanum addict, Gemma has relied on an unsuspected strength and has discovered an ability to travel to an enchanted world called the realms, where dark magic runs wild. Despite certain peril, Gemma has bound the magic to herself and forged unlikely new alliances. Now, as Gemma approaches her London debut, the time has come to test these bonds.
The Order—the mysterious group her mother was once part of—is grappling for control of the realms, as is the Rakshana. Spence's burned East Wing is being rebuilt, but why now? Gemma and her friends see Pippa, but she is not the same. And their friendship faces its gravest trial as Gemma must decide once and for all what role she is meant for.
A Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year
A #1 Book Sense Bestseller
A New York Times Bestseller
A Publishers Weekly Bestseller
A USA Today Bestseller
A 2008 New York Public Library Book for the Teen Age
- Sales Rank: #81990 in Books
- Brand: Ember
- Published on: 2009-04-28
- Released on: 2009-04-28
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.15" h x 1.75" w x 5.50" l, 1.43 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 848 pages
Review
Starred Review, Publishers Weekly, October 29, 2007:
“A huge work of massive ambition.”
Review, People, December 24, 2007:
"This is a rare treat that offers a bit of everything--romance, magic, history, Gothic intrigue--and delivers on all of it in 819 beautifully crafted pages."
From the Hardcover edition.
About the Author
Libba Bray is the author of the New York Times bestselling Gemma Doyle trilogy, comprised of A Great and Terrible Beauty, Rebel Angels, and The Sweet Far Thing. She is also the author of Beauty Queens and Going Bovine, which won the Michael L. Printz Award. Libba lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband, son, and two cats. Visit her at libbabray.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
March 1896
SPENCE ACADEMY FOR YOUNG LADIES
There is a particular circle of hell not mentioned in Dante's famous book. It is called comportment, and it exists in schools for young ladies across the empire. I do not know how it feels to be thrown into a lake of fire. I am sure it isn't pleasant. But I can say with all certainty that walking the length of a ballroom with a book upon one's head and a backboard strapped to one's back while imprisoned in a tight corset, layers of petticoats, and shoes that pinch is a form of torture even Mr. Alighieri would find too hideous to document in his Inferno.
"Let us keep our eyes trained toward heaven, girls," our headmistress, Mrs. Nightwing, pleads as we attempt our slow march across the floor, heads held high, arms out like ballerinas.
The loops of the backboard chafe the sides of my arms. The block of wood is unyielding, and I am forced to stand as stiff as the guards at Buckingham Palace. My neck aches with the effort. Come May, I shall make my debut a full year early, for it has been decided by all parties involved that at nearly seventeen I am ready and that it would do me good to have my season now. I shall wear beautiful gowns, attend lavish parties, and dance with handsome gentlemen--if I survive my training. At present, that outcome is very much in doubt.
Mrs. Nightwing paces the length of the ballroom. Her stiff skirts whisk-whisk across the floor as if to rebuke it for lying there. All the while she barks orders like Admiral Nelson himself. "Heads held high!
Do not smile, Miss Hawthorne! Serene, somber expressions! Empty your minds!"
I strain to keep my face a blank canvas. My spine aches. My left arm, held out to the side for what seems hours, trembles with the effort.
"And curtsy . . ."
Like falling souffles, we drop low, trying desperately not to lose our balance. Mrs. Nightwing does not give the order to rise. My legs shake with exhaustion. I cannot manage it. I stumble forward. The book tumbles from my head and lands on the floor with a resounding thud. We have done this four times, and four times I have failed in some fashion. Mrs. Nightwing's boots stop inches from my disgraced form.
"Miss Doyle, may I remind you that this is the court, and you are curtsying to your sovereign, not performing in the Folies Bergere?"
"Yes, Mrs. Nightwing," I say sheepishly.
It is hopeless. I shall never curtsy without falling. I shall lie sprawled upon the gleaming floors of Buckingham Palace like a disgraceful stain of a girl, my nose resting upon the boot of the Queen. I shall be the talk of the season, whispered about behind open fans. No doubt every man will avoid me like typhus.
"Miss Temple, perhaps you will demonstrate the proper curtsy for us?"
Without ado, Cecily Temple, She Who Can Do No Wrong, settles to the floor in a long, slow, graceful arc that seems to defy gravity. It is a thing of beauty. I am hideously jealous.
"Thank you, Miss Temple."
Yes, thank you, you little demon beast. May you marry a man who eats garlic with every meal.
"Now, let us--" Mrs. Nightwing is interrupted by loud banging. She closes her eyes tightly against the noise.
"Mrs. Nightwing," Elizabeth whines. "How can we possibly concentrate on our form with such a terrible racket coming from the East Wing?"
Mrs. Nightwing is in no humor for our complaining. She takes a deep breath and clasps her hands at her waist, her head held high.
"We shall carry on, like England herself. If she could withstand Cromwell, the Wars of the Roses, and the French, surely you may overlook a bit of hammering. Think how lovely the East Wing shall be
when it is completed. We shall try again--steady! All eyes are upon you! It won't do to scurry to
Her Majesty like a timid church mouse."
I often imagine what sort of position Nightwing might seek out were she not currently torturing us as headmistress of Spence Academy for Young Ladies. Dear Sirs, her letter might begin. I am writing to inquire about your advert for the position of Balloon Popper. I have a hatpin that will do the trick neatly and bring about the wails of small children everywhere. My former charges will attest to the fact that I rarely smile, never laugh, and can steal the joy from any room simply by entering and bestowing upon it my unique sense of utter gloom and despair. My references in this matter are impeccable. If you have not fallen into a state of deep melancholia simply by reading my letter, please respond to Mrs. Nightwing (I have a Christian name but no one ever has leave to use it) in care of Spence Academy for Young Ladies. If you cannot be troubled to find the address on your own, you are not trying your very best. Sincerely, Mrs. Nightwing.
"Miss Doyle! What is that insipid smile you're wearing? Have I said something that amuses you?" Mrs. Nightwing's admonishment brings a flush to my cheeks. The other girls giggle.
We glide across the floor, trying our best to ignore the hammering and the shouts. The noise isn't what distracts us. It is the knowledge that there are men here, one floor above us, that keeps us jittery and light.
"Perhaps we could see the progress they've made, Mrs. Nightwing? How extraordinary it must be," Felicity Worthington suggests with a sweetness bordering on pure syrup. Only Felicity would be so bold as to suggest this. She is too daring by half. She is also one of my only allies here at Spence.
"The workmen do not need girls underfoot, as they are already behind schedule," Mrs. Nightwing says. "Heads up, if you please! And--"
A loud bang sounds from above. The sudden noise makes us jump. Even Mrs. Nightwing lets out a "Merciful heavens!" Elizabeth, who is nothing more than a nervous condition disguised as a debutante, yelps and grabs hold of Cecily.
"Oh, Mrs. Nightwing!" Elizabeth cries.
We look to our headmistress hopefully.
Mrs. Nightwing exhales through disapproving lips. "Very well. We shall adjourn for the present. Let us take the air to restore the roses to our cheeks."
"Might we bring our paper and sketch the progress on the East Wing?" I suggest. "It would make a fine record."
Mrs. Nightwing favors me with a rare smile. "A most excellent suggestion, Miss Doyle. Very well, then. Gather your paper and pencils. I shall send Brigid with you. Don your coats. And walk, if you please."
We abandon our backboards along with our decorum, racing for the stairs and the promise of freedom, however temporary it may be.
"Walk!" Mrs. Nightwing shouts. When we cannot seem to heed her advice, she bellows after us that we are savages not fit for marriage. She adds that we shall be the shame of the school and something else besides, but we are down the first flight of stairs, and her words cannot touch us.
From the Hardcover edition.
Most helpful customer reviews
54 of 64 people found the following review helpful.
Roses and Thorns
By Kate Coombs
Well, I spent the first 3/4 of this book racked by horror movie syndrome: you know, when you're watching the girl go down the long, dark hall and reach for the doorknob, having split off from the rest of the group, and you're yelling, "Don't do it!" at the screen? Only in this case, I was yelling at Gemma not to trust all the wrong people and misuse the magic she holds. She does both, repeatedly, for hundreds of pages.
Yet Bray's point seems to be that it's hard to know what to do when you're a 17-year-old girl, let alone when you carry far too great a responsibility and everyone around you is clamoring for you to hand it over to them. So while Gemma naturally distrusts the authoritarian Order and the Rakshana, she is more conflicted about her supposed allies in the realms, particularly two--make that three--individuals who are not nearly as dead as they should be.
At the same time, Gemma and her friends are trying to figure out what to do about their oh-so-scripted futures, not to mention troubles with family members. And Gemma worries over her feelings for Kartik, who pulls away, then doesn't, then does, even as she tries to make sense of events in the Realms and the warnings she is receiving in visions.
It kind of reminds me of how Harry Potter and his friends spend the middle of the last book glumly hiding out and quarreling because they lack all kinds of important information--and simply because they're teenagers and really don't know what to do next.
The Sweet Far Thing is a long read, but it is incredibly well written and moves at a surprisingly fast clip. (Watch for some lovely metaphors tucked here and there in Bray's prose.)
As for the ending, I would normally object, but I think this story is clearly focused on Gemma's efforts to make good choices and know, truly know, who she is, rather than on a stereotypical happy ending. A key theme of The Sweet Far Thing is that Gemma feels she is all alone, in spite of her friendships and allies and family--a feeling that this book ultimately confirms, though Gemma does manage to make peace with that knowledge.
The most telling moment for me is when the gate of the Winterlands demands each girl's greatest fear and greatest wish. Gemma's wish is this: "I don't know! I don't know what I want, but I wish I did. And that is the truest answer I can give."
For my part, I wish it were easier for Gemma to untangle the deceit and confusion that buffet her like storm winds, but in the end, she and her friends do what all of us have to do--the best that they can under the circumstances. And yes, they save the world. Bravo, Libba Bray!
19 of 22 people found the following review helpful.
Disappointing
By Kindle Customer
Thankfully, this is over. I thought I would never get through this last installment of Gemma Doyle trilogy. Why, oh why does this book have to be so long? Take out 300-400 pages of unnecessary secondary characters and going nowhere plot lines, its 5 epilogues, and "The Sweet Far Thing" would be a reasonably decent book (I suppose). But alas, Bray chooses to ruin her own rather original series with this endless and bizarre last installment.
I've read quite a few reviews and know how many people are disappointed with the ending. I don't really mind where all the characters end up in this story, but I rather mind how and why they get there.
Gemma's books have never been about romance for me. The underlying idea of these books is women's independence, I get it. So I probably wouldn't have minded Kartik's sacrifice if it made any sense. For me, he dies because of Gemma's stupidity. Should she have done what she promised to do in the end of book 2 (divide the magic among the inhabitants of the realms), none of the events in the books would have happened. Thus his death is pointless in my opinion. In fact, the more I think of the details of Kartik's death, the less I understand what and why exactly happened to him. Basically, Gemma stabs the Tree releasing Winterlands' magic, Kartik sucks in this magic, then pours the magic into Gemma and then becomes a part of the Tree. WTH just happened? Why does he even have to do it? If the Tree doesn't have any more magic, how can it have this power to accept his sacrifice and why is it needed? If the Tree still holds on its evil power, how does Kartik's sacrifice change anything? Doesn't it mean that the Tree will continue its evil business in the Winterlands and will eventually corrupt Kartik the same way it did Eugenia? How is this a solution?
Now to Felicity and Pippa. Seriously, where does the gay issue come from? I have no objections to homosexuality being portrayed in YA literature, but it is handled very heavy-handedly by Bray in this book. First of all, there is no clue about this in the first two books - Felicity is caught kissing a gypsy man, Pippa dreams of a knight in shiny armor. This leads me to believe that this turn in the girls' relationship is an afterthought on Bray's part. Another issue here is that considering that Felicity is only 16 and a victim of sexual abuse, can we really be sure that her newly found sexual preference is a real one and not caused by the abuse? I just think Bray shouldn't have brought up this issue if she didn't have time to handle it responsibly and thoughtfully.
Lastly, "The Sweet Far Thing" is an unbearably long and convoluted tale that needs editing badly. First two books have a great balance of real and supernatural with a great women's independence message. This third book is unnecessarily full of numerous subplots, redundant scenes, and pages of feminist propaganda. I understand Bray wanted to give us her opinion on about every women's issue out there, but it doesn't translate into a good book.
Overall, a disappointing conclusion to an imaginative and original series. I don't necessarily regret reading the trilogy, but I will definitely not recommend it to anyone. Two stars only because I was able to finish it and it gives some kind of closure.
8 of 8 people found the following review helpful.
Disappointing
By Aindrila
I picked up the series on my sister's recommendation and thanked her too after the first two books. Then I started reading book 3 and kept reading it and reading it and reading it, hoping that may be the author will show the brilliance of the first two books. Alas! Some 800+ pages later, all I was left with was the feeling of being cheated of a really good and original story. My main issues with the book are:
1. Too long, repetitive and full of unnecessary sub-plots
2. Characters acting like caricatures of themselves from the first 2 books
3. Un-fulfilling ending that resolves nothing.
In short, stay away from this one.
See all 275 customer reviews...
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