If you like fantasy (dystopian or medieval or both), action and adventure, clean romance, and deep themes, The Nightingale Trilogy by J. J. Fischer belongs on your bookshelf. After Calor and Lumen, the trilogy finishes with Memoria, a novel with a beautiful cover and a powerful story.
From the back cover:
In the deeply divided world of Caldera, nothing is as it seems. Taken captive by a faceless enemy, Sephone Winter fights to reclaim her soul as her gift spirals out of control and the deadly poison coursing through her veins begins to exact its terrible vengeance.
Meanwhile, Dorian and Cass are forced into an uneasy alliance in order to find the woman they both love . . . a woman who has all but vanished from the face of the earth, along with the Reliquary. Finding her becomes impossible as the identity of their greatest adversary continues to elude them.
When Caldera’s past catches up with the trio’s future, Sephone, Dorian, and Cass are forced to make decisions that threaten everything and everyone they care about. Each of them is offered a chance to sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of the other—but will they take it? And what will it cost them in the end?
The Nightingale Trilogy is a fantasy transformation of Hans Christian Andersen’s beloved 1843 tale The Nightingale, with echoes of the myths of Hades and Persephone.
As I re-read Memoria for this review, I realized how much this book is like a river, in four keys ways:
The Pacing
Sometimes Memoria is a stretch of rapids, fast and narrow as events and developments tumble one after another almost too quickly for you to catch your breath. I was caught up in the chaos and heart-pounding rush of turning pages with no escape—and left with some bruises afterward. (All’s well that ends well, though.)
Other times the story flows through a broader channel, quiet on the surface and slow to the eye, yet with a fearsomely strong current beneath that carries you forward whether you like it or not. These conversations, reflections, and emotions not only give respite from the rush—and let me catch my breath—but also move the story forward with their own, deep power, no less compelling for their gentleness. I couldn’t have gotten out of the current if I’d tried.
“There was no way to live without someone else dying.” ~Chapter 3
The Twists
Let me warn you now: nothing from the first two books is what you think it is. Not only does Memoria take you down some Class 4 rapids, but it also whips you around some hairpin bends—sometimes a few in quick succession—that will leave you with mental and emotional whiplash. I’m still recovering from the unexpected plot twists (events and revelations) that make this book such an astounding conclusion to the trilogy.
Don’t worry, though; the genius of it all is that it all works. Just as Lumen builds on Calor, Memoria builds on Lumen (and Calor too), drawing from familiar characters and events to shape a semi-familiar but not expected ending. In other words, the surprises of this book make sense in light of the first two books, rather than shocking the reader with last-minute inventions or deus ex machina moments. (If I’m being vague, it’s because I have to be to avoid giving spoilers.) There are one or two new gifts that could seem a little convenient, especially without any foreshadowing in the previous books, but on the major scale, nothing raised my skepticism.
Like glimpses around a river bend of what lies beyond, well before you reach there, Memoria asks questions—so many questions—before gradually answering them. Yes, I promise all the questions are answered. (Well, except for what Fischer mentions in her afterword. All the immediate questions are answered.) I had to keep reading in order to find out who this character was, and what happened there, and why this was the way it was, and so much more. Fischer’s expert story craft teases greatly, but it also rewards greatly. You’ll be sucked in from the prologue (if not from the previous books) and not released until the last page. Heads up: you’ll probably spin a little bit as the gentling eddies nudge you to shore.
“Courage is a choice, Dorian, not a gift.” ~Spartan, Chapter 4
The Depth
It wasn’t until the end of Calor that I caught a trace of allegory; otherwise, the first book could read like a regular dystopian fantasy novel. Lumen carried the allegory farther and deeper, though not fully revealing everything yet. In Memoria, the story and the allegory intersect in a powerful culmination, like two rivers joining, to carry you on a current that is both fast and deep. Very deep.
I didn’t expect so much allegory from this series, but again, it works and works well. As she does in almost all her novels so far, Fischer dances along the line between fiction and Truth, stepping first on this side, then on that side, satisfying the reader with delicious water from the combined rivers of beauty (fiction story) and truth (biblical messages). Like a deep, quiet river whose waters both reflect and refresh, Memoria reflects the depravity of the human condition while refreshing readers with the hope of restoration. Both implicitly and explicitly, this final installment of The Nightingale Trilogy weaves together themes of the brokenness of the world around us, the brokenness we all carry within us, and the only offer of healing—true healing—that doesn’t come from ourselves.
You will see yourself in the inky waters of the River Memoria, as I did, but you will also be filled with joy and hope at the end, like I was.
“There is only one God, Sephone. And he never left.” ~Spartan, Chapter 18
The Beauty
A river doesn’t just move or carry things or have depth; it’s also beautiful. So is Memoria. And I’m not just talking about the cover here, though it is gorgeous. (I want to stare at it all day, especially that wolf front and center. The color, the details, the textures, the themes—what a masterpiece.)
The story of The Nightingale Trilogy is beautiful, and not only because of Fischer’s trademark polished prose. The character development, the plot climax and resolution, the symbolism, the spiritual themes of Memoria in particular—the combination of artistic creativity and profound, biblical truth is beautiful. I can’t think of any other word for it.
I dare say, perhaps more than any of Fischer’s other works, The Nightingale Trilogy is like The Chronicles of Narnia for adults: good story, good writing, and good messages that convey spiritual truths both obvious in their allegory and more subtle in their symbolism. Believers will read this trilogy and be blessed. Unbelievers will read it and be challenged.
“Caldera, like iridescence itself, was a handsome magician who never revealed his true form, though he appeared in many guises.” ~Chapter 16
So, if you haven’t yet read any of J. J. Fischer’s Nightingale Trilogy, now is the time. But don’t say I didn’t warn you: step one foot into the edge of this river, and you’ll find yourself swept away in a current too deep and strong to resist—and too beautiful to forget.
