It’s not really the done thing, but in talking about The River Has Roots, the first offering from Amal El-Mohtar since she co-authored This Is How You Lose the Time War with Max Gladstone, I have to first at least mention Margaret Atwood. Or really, I have to mention Atwood’s famous “Spelling” poem, which so powerfully draws the lines directly between language and power and magic. El-Mohtar’s reflections on the magic of grammar are absolutely the natural, narrative heir to “Spelling.” I adore her thinking on the subject, and all the subtleties she teases out. This is very much a poet’s novella, rich with language and meaning.

The heart of the novella is the poetry of relation: one word to another, one meaning to another, one sister to another. The riddles are truly excellent, lovely little gems studded through the story, lending it both clarity and beauty. Which in prose of already surpassing loveliness is no small feat. And the sisterly bond at the core of the book is no less impressive.

Often sisters are pitted against each other in fairy tales, but this is a story of concord and love. Esther and Ysabel complement each other in so many ways, their personalities and voices both. They sing together not just to meet the tenets of their pact with fairyland, which requires them to sing at the seasons’ turning, but daily, to show their love for their lives and each other.

And their lives are quite lovely. Their village is smallish but prosperous, and their own family is well-regarded, their place assured by their care for the land and respect for the borders where fairyland touches the mortal realm. But this border is necessarily uneasy, and it makes the sisters uneasy with each other. Esther, the eldest, is eager and curious for what lies beyond; Ysabel, the younger, likes things as they are. These differences are not extreme, though, as most writers would make them: El-Mohtar understands that characters must never be caricatures, and that sisters will have to be similar even when they’re their own people.

In following Ysabel and Esther, The River Has Roots wonders how we negotiate difference, even—or especially—when it’s between people who love each other? How do we make our peace with places, too, when Here and There both have their appeal?

The River Has Roots is gentle with these questions, and with the answers it finds. It’s a story about being closer than you are far, and about the way that love, like magic, fills the gaps and bridges the distances.

I should note, though, that this novella is very short, and as such, I don’t really feel I can review it without a certain amount of spoilers. I’ll do my best not to be excessive or detailed.

****Spoilers Ahead****

The River Has Roots is a fairy tale, and it plays by the rules. Its good is good, its bad is bad, and its ending is in its beginning. There’s a certain satisfaction in that, and in the way it plays out. It was extremely heartening especially to see the downfall of a would-be robber baron, though I wonder if the final confrontation could have been expanded.

That’s not writerly license, by the way. I really do wonder. I’m torn because the narrative is wholly concerned with the sisters. To allow another character to intrude, even the major villain, is contrary to the point of the story. Samuel, whether in his success or his failure, was never that important. When the story refuses to allow him even his villain era, there’s a certain elegance in it.

However, for narrative satisfaction, I did feel that the final denouement was a little swift in coming. For all that there’s an existential threat to Esther, that threat isn’t really felt much beyond the statement that it exists. There are not really any dangers to overcome, nor any further hard choices to make. Even Samuel needs only be defeated—not convinced, understood, or examined.

The same is true of Rin, actually. The fey folk are suitably ambivalent, dangerous and attractive as the fey should be, but Rin is maybe not as fully fleshed as I would have wanted. Their interiority never becomes much clearer, and we are largely left to see them as a supporting character. This is true of all the secondary characters, actually. They are the shadows cast by the sisters; they would not really seem to exist without Esther and Ysabel there to move them.

Overall, the book is the story it sets out to be. And that’s great! I despise twists for the sake of twists, and I love beautiful prose. So what’s the problem?

There really isn’t one, except in terms of expectations. Ultimately I think I would have felt like this story was the crown jewel of a short story collection, scintillatingly brilliant and enhancing all around it. As a standalone though, I’m a little puzzled by some of the choices to make The River Has Roots into such a straightforward fairy tale. It doesn’t really interrogate the subgenre, or feature an extensive journey, or offer any intractable complexities. Its moral is gentle but firm, and its prose makes everything feel plush and elegant.

Isn’t that enough? Well—yes. It’s brilliant! The writing is gorgeous! You should absolutely enjoy it in whatever format you best like to enjoy books. But you should also be aware that it is very short, and you might, at the end, feel a little puzzled by the presentation.

The River Has Roots will be published March 4, 2025.