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In Spellbinding Sequel Le Fay, the Most Famous Sorceress of Arthurian Legend Enters Her Villain Era

In Spellbinding Sequel Le Fay, the Most Famous Sorceress of Arthurian Legend Enters Her Villain Era

Though the myth of King Arthur is centuries old, modern readers still can’t seem to get enough of it. Whether that means stories that reexamine familiar characters from new perspectives, rehash well-known story beats in different contexts, or simply focus on lesser-known aspects of the legend or the figures at its center, there are apparently still plenty of worthwhile veins to mine in this age-old saga. (Heck, this isn’t even the first Arthur-related book we’ve reviewed this week.)  

Sophie Keetch’s Morgan Is My Name falls firmly into the first category, a fierce, furious, and wildly feminist reexamination of the origins of the famous Arthurian sorceress, Morgan Le Fay. A character who is portrayed as a healer, a witch, a temptress, and a monster by turns (depending on who you read), she’s one of the original legend’s most complicated and frequently confusing characters. In her debut novel, Keetch gleefully embraced the challenge of crafting a believable throughline between the many different versions of Morgan’s identity to create a cohesive and compelling whole. And now in its sequel, Le Fay, she sets her on the path toward her destiny—which contains the promise of both greatness and ruin. 

Middle books are notoriously difficult things, but Le Fay—like Morgan Is My Name before it—manages to feel contained and complete in its own right. As Morgan slowly comes into her power, both magically and politically, she chafes under the rules of a society that too often says she must somehow make herself lesser in order to survive. Arthur’s Britain is one that is based on ideas of chivalry, purity, and chastity, overlaid with a specifically Christian sort of morality that Morgan finds oppressive. She still longs for the freedom and independence to determine her own future, to do everything from study magic to raise her son as she sees fit (with or without the influence of his royal father.) 

The story begins with Morgan firmly ensconced in Camelot, serving as an often frustrated advisor and confidant to her brother the king, even as she resents his inability to break away from Merlin’s influence. Under her brother’s protection, she and her son Yvain are safe from her abusive husband, Urien, though Arthur’s influence doesn’t go far enough to negate things like paternal rights or the religious laws against adultery. She frequently clashes with the king about his reliance on Merlin and his prophecies, with his wife about her larger role within the court and the duties she’s meant to perform as a woman within it, and with the famous wizard himself about the limits of her magic. The unexpected return of an old flame throws her life further into chaos, and though she takes definitive steps toward unlocking the true extent of her magical abilities—through tutelage from both Merlin himself and his fae-like companion Ninianne—it is unclear how far she’s willing to go to wield it on her own terms. Until it isn’t. 

In this sequel, the anger that seems to simmer beneath Morgan’s skin turns itself outward:  Toward the famous Merlin, whose power she envies and whose scheming she loathes; toward Guinevere, who seeks to control her influence at court and over the king; and even toward Arthur himself, who hews to many of the patriarchal customs Morgan herself despises and drags his feet when it comes to giving her the position on his council she feels is her due. Though she grows increasingly powerful, Morgan also becomes increasingly stubborn—resenting those who refuse to see the world the same way she does, raging at those around her for mistakes she excuses in herself, and making rash choices fueled by little more than her desire to either show up or punish someone else. This Morgan is frequently petty and cruel, occasionally unlikeable, but never fully unsympathetic. 

Because the best part about Keetch’s story is that there are no true villains here. (Or heroes, either, for that matter.)  Just deeply human people who make the best choices they can and are forced to deal with the consequences. Even Merlin’s seemingly grotesque actions, which include trying to claim Morgan’s power and success for his own, can be viewed as an attempt to protect the legacy of Camelot and the boy king he’s fought so hard to put on the throne.  

The growing tension between Morgan and Arthur is crafted in a way that lays the fault for their ultimate break on both their heads and his growing paranoia is mirrored by her increasing inflexibilty. There’s a sense of the inevitable in the slow collapse of their relationship, made all the more profound by the fact that it’s easy to see so many small moments where things could have turned out differently for the both of them. Instead, everything is broken in ways that seem impossible to put back together. 

Given the title of this novel, it’s probably not a spoiler to say that Morgan officially assumes the title of “Le Fay” before this part of the story ends, setting herself against her brother and the Camelot he has built. The reasons for this are complex, a mix of deeply personal tragedy, escalating betrayals, and a general sense of anger over being asked to sacrifice in the name of a kingdom she no longer fully believes in. Her fury is both deeply understandable and wildly frustrating at times, as Morgan is, in many ways, an architect of her own unhappiness thanks to her frequent unwillingness to compromise and a self-righteous need to have her views validated, particularly by those she believes have wronged her. But her refusal to accept—or become—anything less she is in the name of pleasing others or upholding a system she doesn’t believe in is always admirable, and the impossible situations she repeatedly finds herself in make her a moving and frequently sympathetic heroine. 

Keetch’s prose is rich and lyrical throughout, as is her commitment to always presenting Morgan (rightly or wrongly) as full-throatedly, unapologetically herself. After centuries of tales that treat her as little more than window dressing to the story of the men around her, it’s a refreshing and necessary change.  “Morgan le Fay. It has a certain ring to it,” Morgan herself intones toward the end of the novel. And she’s right. It sure does.

Le Fay is available now wherever books are sold. 


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

 
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