Review of This Princess Kills Monsters by D.C. Tovey
When I first stumbled upon This Princess Kills Monsters, the title alone evoked a whimsical blend of fairy tale magic and vibrant adventure. Combined with the promise of a fresh take on the typical "damsel in distress" narrative, how could I resist diving into the pages crafted by D.C. Tovey? For those of us who adore tales where princesses save their own skins, this book had me hooked before I even opened it. However, my journey through its quirky world turned out to be a mixed bag of delightful and disheartening surprises.
At the heart of the story is Princess Mellilot, the quintessential "underfoot fairy tale stepdaughter." While she’s surrounded by her far more illustrious sisters, Melilot embarks on an unremarkable quest—to meet her fiancé in a kingdom that lacks the magical allure of her homeland. However, things take a comical turn as she’s thrust into heroics she’s ill-prepared for, primarily because the townspeople have mistaken her for someone powerful like her sisters. It’s a clever contrast—the absurdity of a fairytale heroine stumbling into a mundane kingdom blessed with neither magic nor the pomp she’d anticipated. Tovey’s humor often catches you off guard, swinging from corny to genuinely funny, keeping the reader engaged and eager to see what mischief Melilot will get into next.
But here’s where the tale spirals into complexities that left me scratching my head. While the book teases at a love triangle—the promise of a sapphic romance alongside the main heterosexual arc—it ultimately delivers a lopsided narrative that feels both misrepresented and frustrating. The primary romance with Sam, presented in a seemingly heterosexual lens, consumes most of the plot, while the sapphic elements remain merely a whisper in the background. There’s a delightful reveal regarding Sam’s identity, but it barely scratches the surface of a thematic depth that could have explored gender identity, leaving it feeling like a missed opportunity for richer storytelling.
What exacerbates this disappointment is how the supposed feminist undertones unravel as the plot progresses. I found it shockingly troubling that the main female villain—who could have been a beacon of empowerment—turns out to be a brutal antagonist, undermining the potential depth her character could have brought to the table. Without spoiling too much, I left feeling that the narrative’s approach to themes of female power and oppression ultimately perpetuates the very misogyny it seeks to critique.
Tovey’s writing possesses some delightful turns of phrase, and the world-building shines brightly, but the structural issues and thematic inconsistency weigh heavily on the overall experience. The pacing felt uneven at times, and while I adored the whimsical tone, the crushing weight of its last act left me questioning my initial joy.
In conclusion, This Princess Kills Monsters has palpable potential and enjoyable elements that shine through. It’s an enchanting read for anyone who revels in fairy tales turned on their head—despite its messy execution. For readers seeking a light-hearted adventure with humor and charm, you might find joy here. But if you’re looking for a thoughtfully woven narrative that tackles LGBTQ+ themes with nuance, this may not hit the mark as you’d hope. Ultimately, the experience left me pondering what this story could have been—an intriguing journey, albeit one fraught with significant pitfalls. If nothing else, it offers a conversation starter about representation in genre fiction, reminding us of the complexities in depictions of gender, power, and identity. Happy reading!
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