The Poison Throne
by Celine Kiernan

Release Date: 1st Apr 2010
Publisher: Little Brown
ISBN: 978 1 8414 9821 8
RRP: £7.99

Debut fantasy for fans of Juliet Marillier...

Re-released by Little Brown is this impassioned story of a young woman living in a very male orientated, courtly environment, forced by her sense of obligation and with the barest understanding of the true political undercurrents on the return to her homeland to sacrifice her own desires and possibly her own future for the sake of childhood friendships and loyalties. The Poison Throne is the first in the Moorehawke trilogy.

Wynter, at fifteen, is almost a woman. But unlike any ordinary young women, she is also a recognised apprentice carpenter and the Lady Protector; her father having gained favour with the King through a combination of friendship and an act of life-saving. Having been absent from the kingdom for several years, their return home fails to bring them the relief they so desperately wanted. The King is not himself; the heir to the throne having been exiled or absconded; the illegitimate son, Lord Razi, coerced into taking his brother’s place and danger lurking in every shadow, every murmured breath and sly remark.

There are components of Kiernan’s narrative that cause umbrage: the rather bland and unimaginative naming of a terrible machine - why call the bloody thing ‘The Bloody Machine’; it makes it sound like an irritant. A gnat. Or at worst, a blood-sucking mosquito. It smacks of indolence. The author’s use of modern abbreviations and colloquialisms such as: ‘Dad’, ‘Chris’ (instead of Christopher) and ‘Baby-girl’ are at odds with the assumed Medieval period and indeed the author’s own localisation of events as being southern France. And the inclusion of the unnecessary distractions of ghosts and talking cats feel distinctly like add-ons whose sole purpose is to embellish the fantasy aspect of the narrative.

Conversely, there is much that grabs the attention and induces the warm glow that comes from recognising a raw, new talent. The Poison Throne may throw conventions to the wind, but Kiernan’s ability to compose a story that waxes and wanes, soothes and ruffles, trills and squawks is so beguiling that one forgives the irregularities as one forgives a newborn babe its crying. So engrossing, in fact, is The Poison Throne, that any disturbance causes a grimace and grinding of teeth – we are hooked, and happily so.

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