The holiday season comes with its own unique and specific set of traditions and folklore attached, from glittering Christmas trees and reindeer with red noses to ghosts that teach the rich to care about the less fortunate. One of the most long-lasting is that of The Nutcracker, a two-act Tchaikovsky ballet based on the story of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King. Set during a child’s Christmas Eve, the story sees young Clara receive a magical gift from her godfather, Drosselmeyer, in the form of a toy nutcracker who eventually comes to life after a battle between a group of gingerbread soldiers and mice. (All the music you recognize comes in the second act, which sees Clara and her Nutcracker Prince visit the Sugar Plum Fairy’s kingdom of sweets.)
But just because Erika Johansen’s The Kingdom of Sweets is named after the original’s most fanciful location doesn’t mean it’s anything like the sweet and heartwarming tale from which it takes its name. No, while this reimagining may feature a magical realm made of candy and a toy swordsman come to life, dark, foul edges are hidden beneath its candy-coated shine.
Set in late 19th century Russia, The Kingdom of Sweets follows the story of twins Clara and Natasha, cursed and blessed in equal measure, named as vessels of Light and Dark by their sorcerer-esque godfather, the mysterious Drosselmeyer. Clara is beautiful and beloved by all, while plain, bookish Natasha is often left to stand in her shadow. At the famous Christmas party, Drosselmeyer comes bearing gifts—including the famous nutcracker—and announces that Clara is to marry Conrad, a Duke’s son whom Natasha desperately loves. Resentful of yet another example of her sister’s endless good fortune and furious at what she sees as another selfish betrayal, Natasha follows Clara through a portal into the realm of the Sugar Plum Fairy, a deceptively beautiful world where spun sugar reindeer, tiny gingerbread men, and a court of malicious toys are just a few of the disturbing creatures she meets.
In this deceptively beautiful Kingdom of Sweets, Natasha is offered a dreadful bargain, and a chance to get revenge on the sister who has always dominated her life in exchange for betraying Drosselmeyer. This choice will have far-reaching ramifications for everyone, both human and magical. For the Sugar Plum Fairy is more than she seems, and the candy-coated glitter of the Kingdom of Sweets covers a dark and rotting heart. Beautiful in the way that deadly things so often are, this is a novel that is not only satisfyingly atmospheric and creepy, it’s dotted with razor-sharp commentary on envy, poverty, and female rage.
Johnson is best known for her Queen of the Tearling series, a trilogy of female-focused high fantasy novels (plus one heartbreakingly perfect prequel) that explore the bittersweet truths of leadership, growing up, and sacrifice. Suffice it to say that a dark Nutcracker retelling may initially feel like something of a swerve for her as a writer, but Johnson crafts the story with the same deft blend of lush magical elements and deeply human realism we saw in her previous books. Here, Clara and Natasha are deeply human figures, bitterly at odds with one another through what is truly no fault of their own. (Though your mileage may vary on whether or not you think either of the girls leans a bit too far into her prophesied destiny on purpose, using their designated roles to excuse their worst deeds.)
Clara has little interest in the world beyond parties and pretty dresses, while Natasha’s poorly concealed resentment over the preferential treatment her sister receives seeps into her interactions with almost everyone else around her. Neither of our lead characters is particularly likable or easy to root for and both are incredibly morally gray figures within the world of the story. Both sisters are jealous and petty, eager to believe the worst of each other. They are not particualrly close, and their relationship is prickly and difficult. (Helped, undoubtedly, by the way that everyone from Drosselmeyer to their own parents seems eager to draw lines between them and set them against each other.)
Like so many fairytales before it, The Kingdom of Sweets is ultimately a cautionary tale. Be careful what you wish for. Consider who you trust. Mind how you go. Sometimes the things we most wish for are not to be touched. Happy endings don’t always look the way you expect. (And may not actually turn out to be happy at all.) Clara and Natasha’s lives and stories are relentlessly intertwined, for both good and ill. And while each proves themselves capable of awful things—shocking cruelty, deep selfishness, even violence—-we also witness, if not traditional redemption, at least something like a genuine change in each of them. A thorny story that raises more difficult themes and questions than it fully answers, and is all the better for it.
The Kingdom of Sweets is available now.
Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter @LacyMB