Review of a “Crow in the Canyon” by Melissa Widmaier

Score: 92+/100 (9.2+ out of 10)

A Crow in the Canyon by Melissa Widmaier is the second installment in the Realm of Light series, following The Wind at Oak Hollow, a previous Outstanding Creator Awards winner! This sequel delves deeper into the Ganwin family’s saga, a blend of high fantasy, emotional drama, and mythological undertones. Spanning over 600 pages (albeit reasonably short ones), the book weaves themes of family, power, sacrifice, and resistance, all against the backdrop of an expansive and politically charged world.

The narrative picks up with the Ganwin family reeling from the destruction of their village, Na-ir, and the loss of loved ones. Messa, the family matriarch, leads her sons, Marl and Natsir, on a journey to rescue their patriarch, Nojhi, who is imprisoned in Selcovi by the brutal Captain Tyrc. Along the way, the family confronts personal grief, supernatural prophecies, and the elemental spirits Wind, Water, and Earth, who play an increasingly manipulative role in their destiny.

That's right, Wind (one of the more compelling characters in the previous book) isn't alone this time in pulling strings.

Marl, as the Wanderer, is the primary target of the spirits. They often exploit his insecurities and sense of duty, pressuring him to embrace his role in the cosmic balance. The spirits dangle visions of impending doom, subtly coercing Marl into aligning with their plans. Their guidance, while sometimes helpful, is often incomplete or cryptic, forcing Marl to make decisions without fully understanding the consequences. For instance, Wind’s possessive behavior exemplifies their control, pushing Marl to wield his elemental powers even at great personal cost.

Earth’s influence over Messa is subtler but no less significant. As a priestess and a maternal figure, Messa feels compelled to balance her spiritual duties with protecting her family. The spirit of Earth amplifies this sense of responsibility, tying her actions to the larger survival of the Erutani people. By invoking Messa’s cultural and spiritual obligations, Earth ensures that she remains committed to their cause, even when it conflicts with her personal desires.

Water, connected to Natsir, subtly reinforces his role as the stabilizing force within the family. While Natsir’s powers are less overtly manipulated, the spirit’s influence shapes his actions, encouraging him to prioritize harmony and unity. This ensures that Natsir complements Marl’s fiery nature, maintaining balance within the family dynamic. Water’s calm but persistent presence keeps Natsir grounded, yet it also limits his ability to fully explore his own individuality.

Collectively, the spirits operate with a larger goal in mind—restoring cosmic balance. So, interestingly, they aren't true villains—at least not purely evil ones. In the previous book, Wind actually came across more like an overbearing stepmother, which is kinda what the spirits are—spiritual, overbearing step-parents.

The novel also delves into themes that resonate on personal and political levels. The Ganwins’ loyalty to one another drives the narrative, with Marl, Messa, and Nojhi making significant sacrifices that underscore the strength of familial bonds. Marl’s evolving relationship with his elemental powers highlights the tension between fulfilling destiny and retaining autonomy, while the spirits’ influence raises complex ethical questions about power and responsibility. The rebellion against Selcovi’s regime reflects the challenges of uniting disparate groups for a common cause, particularly through the lens of Thronren’s network of allies. Amid the turmoil, the birth of Messa’s child and the family’s escape from Selcovi symbolize the persistence of hope even in the darkest times.

The novel’s strengths lie in its emotional depth, richly textured world-building, and engaging action sequences. The heartfelt interactions between the Ganwin family ground the fantastical elements in relatable human emotion, while Selcovi’s oppressive atmosphere, the Erutani’s cultural heritage, and the spirits’ enigmatic presence create a vivid and immersive setting. High-stakes moments, particularly the rescue mission and escape, are thrilling and well-paced. Additionally, the protagonists, especially Marl and Nojhi, undergo significant growth, making their journeys deeply impactful.

So, yes, for better or for worse, this is one of those fantasy books (like Kindred of the Unseen by Micah Beardsley) that puts a heavy emphasis on world-building. As you may have gathered from some of our previous reviews, world-building is a double-edged sword. An adequate amount can make a book's universe immersive. An excessive amount can ruin a book's flow and pacing, becoming more of a distraction than anything.

The narrative occasionally struggles under the weight of its ambition. Multiple subplots, such as the rebellion’s internal politics, feel underdeveloped, while secondary characters like Thronren’s allies and Selcovi’s new leaders lack depth, limiting their narrative impact. The late introduction of a new antagonist feels rushed, detracting from the emotional payoff of Tyrc’s fate. Furthermore, while action scenes are dynamic, reflective moments sometimes slow the story’s momentum, creating uneven pacing in parts of the novel.

Perhaps the issue with this book that reminded us the most of the previous one is its slice-of-life problem. It often seems as though we're going through different episodes of these fantasy characters just doing fantasy stuff at times. Sometimes, it got stale and stagnant. There were times we just wanted the narrative to move on with the plot.

Thankfully, this book had a much clearer plot, goal (for the characters to achieve), and antagonist than the previous one did, which was much appreciated.

So, despite some weaknesses, A Crow in the Canyon remains a compelling and richly layered addition to the Realm of Light series.

Check it out on Amazon!