Alexandra McCollum has conjured some incredibly endearing characters in Into the Midnight Wood, their debut novel about two comically disparate roommates, each trying to figure out who they are and what they want amidst family drama, dark magic and a tenuous friendship.
I’m relatively new to the fantasy/romantasy genre but in the past year have devoured many books that feature magic, witches, fae, vampires, gods and god complexes, dark academia and other common tropes, but most especially strong female main characters — which is wonderful and commendable, but also made Into the Midnight Wood a refreshing change. Its main character is David, a cisgender gay man, whose roommate and love/hate interest is Meredith, referred to as he/him in the story but who outwardly rejects labels, often dresses femme and is romantically attracted to all genders.
McCollum calls the novel a “queer contemporary fantasy romance that is intended for adult readers” on their website, the latter part alluding to the fact that there are several very explicit “open door” scenes.
Along with the spice, this book is laugh-out-loud funny, thanks mainly to the dialogue between David and Meredith, and to Meredith being a vibrant, charismatic human. But David has lived with him for five years and has grown tired of Meredith’s quirky behaviors. As he tries to remind himself of why he’s looking for a new place to live and a chance to be rid of Meredith for good, David starts a tally, a la “10 Things I Hate About You” — David, though, is mentally cataloging not 10, but 100 things that are “wrong” with Meredith.
David’s list is full of annoyances, some of which are incredibly inane and some of which would absolutely get aggravating over time.
A small sample:
“#11: His accent.” Because “David had never before heard someone manage to sound both American and British at the same time, yet Meredith somehow accomplished it.”
“#13: He persists in outfitting his dog in this humiliating fashion,” referring to Bianca’s rhinestone collar.
“#23: He never puts anything back in its proper place.”
“#48: He insists on holding an impromptu funeral for a rodent.”
“#94: He acts as if an absence of hours or days has been years,” David mentally tallies after Meredith runs up to hug his friend (before noting with a semblance of surprise that he’s kind of missed Meredith greeting him that way.)
But behind Meredith’s persona is a more subdued, almost defeated, side that starts to seep out as his family, full of disapproval and a brother who crosses the line of typical sibling squabbling into full-on emotional abuse, re-enters his life. There’s a wedding at the center of this reunion, because all good family drama happens when there’s a wedding involved.
So where’s the magic? Most of it happens in the Midnight Wood, while the rest of the book is set in a relatively normal, human-occupied place — with a few exceptions that are sprinkled in here and there with little explanation and zero world-building. But it’s an enchanting space, and I didn’t feel any real need for an explanation as to why David and Meredith are fully human while their neighbor, Mrs. Jupiter, is a straight-up witch with a cauldron and a penchant for casting spells. There are hints of otherworldly creatures mentioned throughout as well, like a real estate agent who is presented as human — or, at least, not presented as not human — who turns out to have tentacles.
But the Midnight Wood is where most of the magic happens. It’s where Meredith seems to have a connection with a lot of the creatures he meets in the Midnight Wood, like magic mice (hence the rodent funeral noted in #48). He seems to feel at home in these woods, engaging with misfit beings who, like Meredith, are hard to define.
There’s some dark magic looming among the trees too though, in the form of Erlking of the Midnight Wood, who feeds on others’ misery and is especially interested in getting to Meredith’s deep, dark feelings that he tries so hard to shove down. It’s an interesting way to bring life to Meredith’s self-loathing, essentially taking on the form of a monster that threatens to destroy him if he gives in to his despair.
Could this story have been told without the moderate dose of magic? Probably. But the magic tempers the serious themes, adding a dose of whimsy without taking away from the real, heartfelt messages.
If you’re looking for a typical romantasy, this isn’t it, but it’s well worth the journey if you’re looking for something enchantingly eccentric. B+ —Meghan Siegler
Featured Photo: The Midnight Wood by Alexandra McCollum