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In this spellbinding debut novel, two estranged half-sisters tasked with guarding their family's library of magical books must work together to unravel a deadly secret at the heart of their collection - a tale of familial loyalty and betrayal, and the pursuit of magic and power.
For generations, the Kalotay family has guarded a collection of ancient and rare books. Books that let a person walk through walls or manipulate the elements—books of magic that half-sisters Joanna and Esther have been raised to revere and protect.
All magic comes with a price, though, and for years the sisters have been separated. Esther has fled to a remote base in Antarctica to escape the fate that killed her own mother, and Joanna's isolated herself in their family home in Vermont, devoting her life to the study of these cherished volumes. But after their father dies suddenly while reading a book Joanna has never seen before, the sisters must reunite to preserve their family legacy. In the process, they'll uncover a world of magic far bigger and more dangerous than they ever imagined, and all the secrets their parents kept hidden; secrets that span centuries, continents, and even other libraries...
In the great tradition of Ninth House, The Magicians, and Practical Magic, this is a suspenseful and richly atmospheric novel that draws readers into a vast world filled with mystery and magic, romance, and intrigue—and marks the debut of an extraordinary new voice in speculative fiction.
Prologue
Abe Kalotay died in his front yard in late February, beneath a sky so pale it seemed infected. There was a wintery wet snowbite to the still air and the sprawled-open pages of the book at his side had grown slightly damp by the time his daughter Joanna came home and found his body lying in the grass by their long dirt driveway.
Abe was on his back, eyes half-opened to that gray sky, mouth slack and his tongue drying blue, one of his hands with its quick-bitten nails draped across his stomach. The other hand was resting on the book, forefinger still pressed to the page as if holding his place. A last smudge of vivid red was slowly fading into the paper and Abe himself was mushroom-white and oddly shriveled. It was an image Joanna already knew she'd have to fight against forever, to keep it from supplanting the twenty-four years' worth of living memories that had, in the space of seconds, become more precious to her than anything else in the world. She didn't make a sound when she saw him, only sank to her knees, and began to shake.
Later, she would think he'd probably come outside because he'd realized what the book was doing and had been struggling to reach the road before he bled out; either to flag down a passing driver to call an ambulance, or to spare Joanna from having to heave his body into the bed of her truck and take him up their driveway and past the boundaries of their wards. But at the time she didn't question why he was outside.
She only questioned why he'd brought a book along with him.
She had not yet understood that it was the book itself that had killed him; she only understood that its presence was a rupture in one of his cardinal rules, a rule Joanna herself had not yet dreamed of breaking—though she would, eventually. But even more inconceivable than her father letting a book outside the safety of their home was the fact that it was a book Joanna did not recognize. She had spent her entire life caring for their collection and knew every book within it as intimately as one would know a family member, yet the one lying at her father's side was completely unfamiliar in both appearance and in sound. Their other books hummed like summer bees. This book throbbed like unspent thunder and when she opened the cover the handwritten words swam in front of her eyes, rearranging themselves every time a letter nearly became clear. In progress; unreadable.
The note Abe had tucked between the pages was perfectly legible, however, despite the shakiness of the hand. He'd used his left. His right had been fixed in place as the book drank.
Joanna, he had written. I'm sorry. Don't let your mother in. Keep this book safe and away from your blood. I love you so much. Tell Esther
It ended there, without punctuation. Joanna would never know if he'd meant to write more or if he only wanted her to pass on a final message of love to the daughter he hadn't seen in years. But kneeling there on the cold dirt, with the book in her hands, she didn't have the wherewithal to think about any of this yet.
She could only stare at Abe's lifeless body, try to breathe, and prepare herself for the next steps.
Part One
Mirror Magic
1
Esther couldn't get over the blue of the sunlit sky.
It was a variated blue, almost white where it met the snowy horizon but deepening as Esther's eye followed it upward: from robin's egg to cerulean to a calm, luminous azure. Beneath it the Antarctic ice was blindingly bright, and the scattered outbuildings Esther could see from her narrow dorm window drew stripes of indigo shadow on the white ruts of the road. Everything gleamed. It was eight o'clock in the evening and not discernibly darker than it had been at eight o'clock that morning.
"Excuse me," Pearl said, and hip-checked Esther to one side so she could fit a piece of custom-cut cardboard in the window frame. Esther fell backward onto her unmade bed and propped herself on her elbows, watching Pearl lean over the tiny, cluttered ...
Excerpted from Ink Blood Sister Scribe by Emma Torzs. Copyright © 2023 by Emma Torzs. Excerpted by permission of William Morrow. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Emma Törzs's debut novel, Ink Blood Sister Scribe, is the kind of book that reminds me why I love the fantasy genre. I was especially drawn to the family at the center of the story: half-sisters Esther and Joanna, their late father Abe, and Joanna's mother (and Esther's stepmother) Cecily. While their forays into a world of magical books are fascinating and form the overall structure of the story, I was just as enthralled by their interpersonal relationships, particularly in terms of how the sisters reflect on their childhood and the ways in which the isolation that comes with magic has shaped them. Ink Blood Sister Scribe offers both the stomach-dropping roller coaster feeling of a thriller with the nostalgia of a domestic novel. It is, in short, a must-read for anyone who loves stories about magic — and for everyone who knows that stories are magic.
Törzs develops a world that feels so real and lived-in that a reader could just slip into the pages. In this world, those with access to magical texts can read aloud from them to cast a spell; very rarely, someone called a "Scribe" is born who can actually write these texts. The paper, binding and most especially the ink imbue the books with spells that can do anything from calming wild animals to creating immortality. Though the rules of magic are mostly unwritten, the story begins with Esther breaking one that has been emphasized to her throughout her youth: For some reason that her father would not share with her, she has to move once a year, never staying in one place longer than that. When she disobeys the rule for the first time, she realizes that her life and the lives of those she loves are in danger, because someone is following her movements and is eager to track her down. Something about Esther, Joanna and their connection is special — special enough that a mysterious entity seeks them out.
From a lonely kitchen in Vermont with broken tile to a sterile, frigid research base in Antarctica to a lush country estate that seems straight out of Downton Abbey, Törzs's command of description and setting is simply superb. Similarly, her detailed descriptions of her characters and their actions paint a perfectly clear picture page after page. I won't be surprised at all if Ink Blood Sister Scribe ends up with a movie or miniseries deal. The recurring image of bullets as bees is particularly evocative and memorable, and the snappy dialogue would play out wonderfully on-screen. Törzs also incorporates diverse perspectives in an unstilted, natural way. I was especially touched by a queer romance addressed directly and explicitly from the beginning.
In Ink Blood Sister Scribe, magic flows through some families like blood, and the worldbuilding perfectly exemplifies that concept by making blood necessary for ritual spellwork. Descriptions of the ink-making process, from selecting the herbal components to drawing large quantities of blood to infusing the ink with magic, range from heart-wrenchingly intimate to chillingly clinical. Although some things stay behind the magician's curtain, the system of magic is well developed and explained overall. I particularly appreciated the alchemical, somatic roots of supernatural abilities paired with a self-referential, books-about-books emphasis on the importance of the written word.
Törzs's management of pace and plot is also impressive, and is supplemented by the multiplicity of stories and protagonists that only officially converge halfway through the book. The first half of the novel creeps along in comparison to the latter half, but this works in its favor as Törzs lulls her reader into a sort of anxious complacency, the feeling that something is wrong without it being clear quite what that something is. As soon as the action drops, though, the plot rockets along with twists that quite literally made me gasp and put the book down for a few moments to bask in the full-body shiver that accompanies a really great thriller. My only complaint in terms of pacing is that I wish the heroes would have connected earlier; the group that forms by the end is a really fun, interesting one, and several characters can only divulge their backstory in a somewhat rushed manner.
Overall, Ink Blood Sister Scribe takes the prize for my favorite book so far this year. Even knowing the twists and the conclusion, I would like to read it again. Whether or not she returns to this universe in future work, I can't wait to see what else Emma Törzs has in store. Her first novel is sure to remind many readers of just why they love stories about magic, and for that I commend her.
Reviewed by Maria Katsulos
GennaRose Nethercott, author of Thistlefoot
Lesley Nneka Arimah, award-winning author of What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky
Marlon James, New York Times bestselling author of Black Leopard, Red Wolf
In Emma Törzs's Ink Blood Sister Scribe, the first word of the title plays an important role: By mixing blood with herbs, people can make ink with magical properties. In the real world, writing has been done with a variety of materials throughout history — including, from time to time, blood.
Evidence points to ink first being used in Egypt circa 3200 BCE, and in China around the same time. These inks were often carbon-based, created by mixing soot with binding agents like acacia gum. Iron gall ink, which was common in medieval and early modern Europe, is a mixture that incorporates gall nuts (a protective growth on oak trees that results from wasp nests) and ferrous sulfate. A reaction between these ingredients makes the muddy brown liquid created from boiled gall nuts turn into the deep blue-black that survives on many early modern manuscripts today.
However, even before these inks came into play, other substances had been used as a medium for human expression and communication, and blood was one of them. Prehistoric paintings have been found to contain animal blood in addition to plant sap and rock-based material. Later, "blood writing," or the practice of copying sacred texts in one's own blood, was common in Chinese Buddhism. According to an article by Erica X Eisen in The Paris Review, this practice began in the 6th century and continued into the early 20th century. Scribes would collect blood from "ritually potent places," such as wrists or tongues, believing that it represented "the state of the soul." Early Chinese accounts also mention pacts being "secured with blood," a concept that has emerged in other cultures and eras as well. It is clear that in these situations, blood was considered to have sacred properties. A similar sentiment is represented with literal magic in Ink Blood Sister Scribe, in which the characters use their blood to write spells.
There are many different kinds of ink today. Although their makeups are somewhat similar, unique materials in each help them achieve their intended purpose. The ink in ballpoint pens, for example, is made of alcohols and fatty acids; the thickness of the resulting material means less bleedthrough, but also necessitates more pressure to make the ink flow. Gel inks have powder suspended in, as one would expect, gel, which is water-based, rather than oil-based like in ballpoint pens. This helps gel ink write more smoothly and vividly, but also makes it more prone to smudging. Fountain pen inks, like gel inks, are water-based. They include dyes (most commonly eosin and triarylmethane) and pH modifiers, which help to minimize corrosiveness.
While modern inks might seem a far cry from historical blood writing, or from fantasy worlds like the one in Ink Blood Sister Scribe, the idea of blood as a powerful medium is present in contemporary times — such as in the expression "signed in blood," which emphasizes the loyalty or sacrifice present in an agreement. In keeping with this, you can find inks with names that evoke the concept — I've personally used and loved Diamine "Writer's Blood" ink in fountain pens.
Photo of fountain pen, via Pexels
Filed under Cultural Curiosities
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