A Wistful Return: Review of The Black Bird Oracle (All Souls, #5)
When I first picked up The Black Bird Oracle by Deborah Harkness, I was filled with a rush of nostalgia and excitement at the thought of reuniting with the beloved De Clermont-Bishops family. It’s been a while since I last wandered the pages of the All Souls universe, and I couldn’t wait to dive back into its rich tapestry of magic and history. However, as I turned the pages, I found myself grappling with mixed emotions—like an old friend who seems more distant than I remembered.
At its core, The Black Bird Oracle promises to weave together threads of magic, family, and the complex journey of its characters, but my heart sank as I noticed what felt like significant shifts in personality. Matthew, once the embodiment of intensity, feels somewhat muted—his fierce spirit replaced with a vague sense of detachment. And then there’s Miriam, who seems to have lost her sense of danger and complexity. I felt a twinge of disappointment as I navigated through the plot, watching as other characters, like Sarah, became mere vessels for conflict rather than thriving individuals.
One of my greatest frustrations was how the Bishops, traditionally pivotal to Diana’s magical heritage, were suddenly pushed into the background. I’ve always loved the idea of Diana’s dual legacy—drawing power from both her mother and father—but this shift felt like a betrayal. Why is Rebecca’s ghost haunting Ravenswood instead of her rightful home? This lack of consistency in Diana’s magical lineage felt jarring and left me questioning the foundation of her power.
As for Diana herself, I found myself feeling more exasperated than empathetic. It’s as if Harkness is wrestling with the consequences of Diana’s choices, churning feelings of regret into the narrative. The uncharacteristic actions and the detachment from her identity within a family unit struck a discordant note for me. It felt like a regression rather than growth, particularly when she mistreats characters like Sarah, who has always been her steadfast supporter.
The writing, however, remains a bright spot in the reading experience. Harkness is a master of prose, crafting beautifully flowing sentences that evoke emotion and imagery. The spellbinding descriptions of magic still hold their charm, even amidst the narrative’s inconsistencies.
But even with the lovely prose, the pacing felt off—an abrupt ending after a build-up that left me questioning whether I had missed something. It was clear that The Black Bird Oracle is meant to bridge into the next installment, but the transition felt jagged rather than seamless.
In conclusion, I rate this book 2 stars, buoyed by the nostalgia and beauty of Harkness’s writing, yet grounded by the inconsistencies and frustrations that emerged throughout my reading journey. I can imagine long-time fans of the trilogy feeling similarly disheartened, longing for the richness of the original characters. Still, for those who adore magic and enchanting worlds—even those that may no longer feel quite like home—this book might serve as a decent read.
As I close this chapter, I find myself yearning to revisit the original trilogy. Perhaps indulging in some Baldwin fanfiction along the way might rekindle that magical spark I’ve been missing. What are your thoughts? Are you ready to navigate this complex realm again?
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