It’s refreshing to read a book for simple enjoyment once in awhile. I’ll confess I tend to look primarily at writing craft and be over-critical, robbing myself of the sensation of letting a story sweep me away. However, some stories are just meant to be felt.

I devoured one such story in a single day, just this week. So of course I’ve got to do a blog post about it! But instead of commenting on style or plot devices, I’m going to just focus on the heart of this particular gem. You could still draw a “how to” deduction from examining why a book should be read, but that’s not the main focus of my post… this time.

The book is another Laura E. Weymouth novel, titled A Rush of Wings. Spoiler alert, I intend to discuss elements of the story that are integral to the plot.

My favorite part of this story was how relatable the main character was, specifically in regard to her self-criticism and deep-seated guilt. Rowenna is just a hot-tempered person. She wants justice. She’s on fire in an instant when someone does her a wrong, and she wants the retribution to be instant as well. There’s a realness about her character, for those of us who just long for the world to be right, who want to be respected and celebrated, and who sometimes get in a bad mood “just because”. This anger is the reason that Rowenna isn’t allowed to learn how to use magic. Because her mother is afraid that her anger, once given power, will make her daughter into a monster.

This is compelling tension, for starters. So imagine my surprise when, much later in the story, Rowenna learns how to use her magic and it’s not evil. She feels whole. There’s a beautiful part of her that was missing. She is incredibly relieved… until a bloodthirsty tyrant discovers her newfound power. Rowenna is trapped and watches her magic being used to force her to commit darker and darker acts. She feels like she is entering a darkness that, were she to surrender to it, would change her into the monster her mother dreaded. It’s that “I told you so” moment that we never want to hear, but that happens to us anyway once we become adults and see ourselves with less idealism than when we were know-it-all teenagers.

I want more stories like this. Heroes that don’t have crippling weaknesses are definitely out of vogue, unsurprisingly, because they’re just boring. We see through them. They’re a one-dimensional cardboard figure and we don’t care whether they win or lose. But the reaction to cardboard heroes I find in books published more recently, is either a hero who merely has token weaknesses (like smoking, cussing, or just the occasional temper flare up) or they’re entirely broken, know they’re broken, and don’t make any progress toward redemption. A character who has a real, raw potential for evil and realizes this with a mixture of shame and desire is a far greater hero. Not only does Rowenna overcome her longing for power, she overcomes her feelings of guilt over being an angry person and learns to grow through her weaknesses, turning them into strengths.

I loved how themes of fear and identity were pitted against each other. I loved how this novel could be a treatise on why anger isn’t evil or shameful, it just needs to be directed appropriately. I wish there were more heroines out there who are long-suffering damsels in deep distress, who aren’t swept out of their towers by knights in shining armor, but make the long, arduous journey through the darkness to emerge like a diamond on the other side, all while maintaining their femininity.

I have one more Weymouth novel to read before A Consuming Fire comes out later this year, and I’m already full of feverish anticipation!

P.S. I was immensely impressed by a particular scene in this novel that completely swept me to another scene in another book by a different, well-known author. It was so reminiscent that I could literally feel and sense the feelings and sensations I remember from reading that other book. I don’t know how that’s possible. But it was amazing.