
Callum Quinn, © 2021
A Curse So Dark and Lonely
By Brigid Kemmerer
The (a) story crosses back and forth between the perspectives of Harper—a young woman from Washington DC who is unintentionally pulled away from her own world and into the magical realm of Emberfall—and Rhen, the cursed prince of a crumbling kingdom. For many of us, the plotline is pretty familiar: Rhen has been cursed to continuously repeat the autumn of his eighteenth year, and with each reset he needs a woman to fall in love with him before the season ends, or else he is transformed into a violent monster that hungers for the blood of his own subjects. And now, it seems, Harper is his last chance to break the curse before that change becomes permanent.
However, Harper is anything but compliant with her unusual circumstances, and manages to keep Prince Rhen and his guard commander, Grey, on their toes for the first time in what has been, for them, many long and exhausting years. But while the prince lingers between despair and hope as Harper works her way into their lives, other dark forces are closing in on Emberfall, and a curse will soon be the least of their worries.
The (A) story is partially about ableism and privilege. Harper has cerebral palsy, which has affected the muscles in her left leg. Yet, she by no means allows this fact to stop her from living her life. All throughout her journeys in Emberfall she climbs down trellises, rides horses, and even faces arsonists and murderers with a bravery and cleverness that all heroes possess. However, those around her are frequently surprised by her abilities, referring to her leg as an “injury,” or a “weakness.” While Rhen and Grey are fairly quick to change their perspective of her as they continue to witness Harper’s tenacity in the face of danger, back in her own world she has been given little opportunity to prove herself as anything other than “broken.”
We see this most clearly through her brother Jake, who is protective to the point of underestimating her abilities. From Harper’s experience, Jake has often referred to her as “vulnerable,” and constantly tells her to hide away when she could otherwise help. And having this attitude exhibited for most of her life has led Harper to, on occasion, doubt her own abilities as well. This is most noticeable when she is hesitant to dance, but we can also see it in her uncertainty when she’s called upon to play an even more specific role in saving Rhen’s kingdom.
There is a lot within this book to be said about “broken” people, scars, and breaking points. Harper is constantly underestimated because of her leg, but we also see other characters throughout the story being underestimated due to missing or weakened limbs and even gender. Yet each of these characters ends up showing their true worth by the end of the story. Even Rhen faces some misjudgment—both from his own guards and from Harper—as his own “breaking point” is continuously tested through the various tortures his curse has brought down upon him.
But this story is also about healthy and unhealthy relationships. Unlike in most Beauty and the Beast retellings (at least, the ones I’m familiar with), Harper addresses the possibility of Stockholm Syndrome, and questions throughout the book whether her change in opinion of / newly developing feelings for Rhen are real, or if they are a result of being trapped with him in his world. In the midst of her inner struggle with these feelings, she also briefly expresses disappointment over her mother’s own choice to continue loving her father, even after he plunged them into debt and abandoned them. Through Harper’s eyes, love given to the wrong people has always been destructive, which only adds to her reluctance to get close to Rhen after he so callously wrenched her (and past girls) away from her home and family.
Throughout the story, we also witness the differences in how both Grey and Rhen attempt to develop a relationship with Harper. While Rhen starts off as calculating, anxious to uncover some secret path to her affections, Grey is straightforward and honest in everything he says and does. In response, Harper comes to trust and like the guardsman more readily than she does the prince, who expresses confusion as he continuously fails to make progress toward winning her heart. Eventually Rhen finds that it is Grey’s simple method of “[sitting] down and ask[ing],” that will begin to bridge the gap between him and Harper—which is something that he, as a prince, is not used to doing.
Finally, A Curse So Dark and Lonely also touches on themes of leadership. This is most clearly expressed through Rhen who, even with the curse dangling over his head, does everything within his power to ensure that the people in his kingdom are safe. We see this in his refusal to continue taking girls from Emberfall, and his concern over citizens being unfairly taxed in his absence, but we also see it in Grey’s unyielding loyalty to him. While the rest of the Royal Guard fled the monster during the first couple of transformations, Grey stayed by Rhen’s side out of respect for the way he refused to break under the horrors of his curse.
But we also see signs of leadership expressed through Harper, which grow and develop as she discovers her role in the future of Emberfall. Like Rhen, she is concerned for the people, often risking her life and, more frequently, Rhen’s frustration, in order to put them first. And as the story moves on, she also does everything in her power to protect Rhen, whose survival matters the most for Emberfall. It is these actions that give Rhen the most hope and the most despair—for while it seems he has finally found someone strong and brave enough to stand by his side, it is still too much to hope that she will fall in love with him before it’s too late.
I made it through this entire book in almost one sitting. I started late in the night and stopped to sleep after the first few chapters—and then only stopped for lunch and dinner and bathroom breaks the next day. I could not put it down.
I have always been a sucker for Beauty and the Beast stories, and this one has definitely found a special place in my heart. I especially love Harper, who is a funny and fierce heroine who does not let anything or anyone stand in her way. Rhen and Grey are also likeable characters—particularly Grey, who is a welcome addition to the usual “beauty” and “beast” pairing, adding a stoic yet thoughtful contrast to Rhen’s floundering frustrations and occasional arrogance.
However, while I appreciate including a character with cerebral palsy in a fantasy—since so much of our literature excludes characters with disabilities—I’m a little torn by how it was represented. On the one hand, I like what it brought to the character and the themes, but on the other hand Harper’s cerebral palsy did not come into play as much as I had expected. Granted, I understand why the author did this: Kemmerer wanted to show that disabilities do not hinder capabilities, despite the commonly held misconception that they do. And that’s a great message to send to readers, especially within a fantasy story. But it reached a point near the end that I kept forgetting she even had cerebral palsy in the first place, simply because it didn’t make that much of a difference in what she did and how people saw her. If it had come into play even just a little more—not necessarily hindering her or preventing her from doing things, but just being something she had to deal with in more key moments—then it probably would have been a more prominent aspect of the character in my mind. (But then again, maybe this is an ableist way of looking at it. Please feel free to share your thoughts about it in the comments; I’m still learning.)
The story also (kind of? sort of?) seemed to be hinting at a love triangle—which I am also torn about (I’ll have to read the next couple of books before I feel certain one way or the other). If there was indeed a love triangle brewing within this book, then it was at least subtle, which I can also appreciate. I’m not a huge fan of the love triangle trope, and especially in a Beauty and the Beast story it’s honestly a little disheartening. But then again, its presence also subverts the usual expectations that come with this kind of story, which I respect and admire, and even enjoy in the long run.
In fact, on top of the beloved storyline, likeable characters, strong female lead, and representation, the book’s ability to subvert expectations is yet another reason to love it. It delivers so much more than you would anticipate from a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, which, while it might throw some readers off a bit, still keeps them invested in what’s going on and what’s going to happen next. Despite my nitpicking, A Curse So Dark and Lonely is a great book to add to your list regardless of whether you’re a fan of fantasy, Beauty and the Beast retellings, or snarky heroines who aren’t afraid to say what’s on their mind and do what needs to be done.