Review: The Blackest Blue by Luna Wright

A classic fellowship fantasy with original twists and a dystopian mystique, The Blackest Blue by Luna Wright is an ambitious novel that tackles broad ideas of power, loyalty, and freedom. A young woman living a double life – plotting long-term revenge on a society that demands absolute subservience – seeks to expose the truth, even if it costs her everything, in this powerful piece of cautionary fiction.

Sy shines at the heart of this story, brazen and bold in her deception as an acolyte of the all-powerful Rem, deeply committed to a dark purpose instilled in her after witnessing the nightmarish death of her friend years earlier. She has avoided anyone discovering that she is “the worst kind of crazy,” but a bloody dream of a blue-eyed stranger haunts her. As she rises through the ranks of her order, and is given more access to the secrets she has so long sought, her true intentions become harder to hide, as does her grip on reality.

Channeling a YA Margaret Atwood, the central premise of this book is about uncovering a dangerous lie, and pulling back the curtain of false belief and manipulation that can dominate a population. The book’s overarching commentary on a society’s mass delusion feels timely in an era of rabid political fandom, manipulative charlatans, and tidal waves of unreliable information. On a broader theme, the book explores the long-lasting effects of childhood trauma, how it shapes us, and has the potential to break us if left unmanaged. This is perennially good advice, regardless of the age of the reader, and Wright executes this commentary with subtlety and sensitivity.

The fervent belief in Rem drives every aspect of this story – “Rem gives us everything, and can take everything too.” While this lays out the premise quite clearly, it also limits the personality of certain side characters; they are single-minded in their obsession and fear, which makes them fairly one-note. However, this doesn’t apply to Sy’s ragtag companions, who are given eccentric spaces in the narrative, and multiple dimensions to probe throughout the story. This is particularly true of Solita and Pax, who mirror Sy’s dynamic elements of suspicion, critical thinking, and personal growth.

The setting is also refreshingly original; the whimsically drawn map at the head of the book sets a certain mood, but the prose reveals that this is also a technological world, with the feel of a magical realm, at least in the slavish devotion to a godhead, and the pastoral/forested environment. This gives the setting an ominous feel of dystopian science fiction, as though this is a far-flung post-industrial civilization, rediscovering the early successes and failures of their predecessors. Wright toys with this concept well, blurring the lines of genre with a deft touch.

From a technical perspective, the narrative execution is patient, but rarely feels slow, and the prose has been edited well. Most of the dialogue hums and flows like a spell being woven, though there are some jarring moments and leading questions that feel a touch unrealistic. Perhaps most notable is the tension that Wright seems to cast so effortlessly over particular scenes – a blend of fear, seduction, mystery, and courage that can make the reading experience intoxicating.

All told, The Blackest Blue is an unusually creative and deeply developed new fantasy saga to explore, and readers will be glad to find this is just the beginning.