Book Review: "In an Orchard Grown from Ash"

Family, trauma, and tragedy envelop the characters in Rory Power's follow-up to "In A Garden Burning Gold."

Warning: Full spoilers for the novel follow!

From the moment I started Rory Power’s In a Garden Burning Gold, I was hooked. There was something both alluring and disturbing about her Byzantine-influenced world, one in which people known as Stratagiozi wield immense power. Of particular focus in that book were the twins Rhea and Lexos, each of whom labors under the domineering influence of their father. Each finds their lives going on very different tracks and, in the climax, their father is killed by a rival family, effectively destroying their family and leaving them to pick up the pieces. 

By the time that In an Orchard Grown from Ash begins Rhea, Lexos, and their two siblings Nitsos and Chrystanthi are scattered after the death of their father and the breaking of their family’s power. Rhea has gone to ground with Chrystanthi among the rebels known as the Sxoriza, who look to her as a Saint. Lexos, meanwhile, is a prisoner of the Domina family, and he soon finds himself ensnared by a mysterious man named Ettore. Of the four, Nitsos and his motivations remain the most unclear, but it seems that he wants to do something with the bones of the long-dead Saints. 

As was the case with the first book in this series, there are numerous plots and schemes afoot, many of them spearheaded by the nefarious Domina family. In this case, however, we see the focus shift from the supposed paterfamilias to a new player, Ettore, who is a charming and sinister figure with his own purposes for Rhea and her siblings. Though he appears to be a relatively young man, it soon becomes clear that he is far older than he appears and that, as a result, he yearns for the power that has been denied him. Both Lexos and Rhea have their own dealings with him, and they discover to their chagrin that he is more than willing to use them and discard them as soon as their utility has been exhausted.

More than anything else, though, In An Orchard Grown from Ash is about family trauma, about the ways that a powerful and malignant parent can so damage their children that they are unable to lead fulfilling and meaningful lives. There’s something fitting about the fact that the novel's final confrontation occurs at the family estate, where Rhea confronts the dead and decomposing body of her father. By this point, her body has been consumed by the terrible gifts she took from him but, despite her abilities, she can never bring him back, can never undo the past and make it as if it never was. Though she returns to this primal scene of trauma, it finally proves too much for her, and in her efforts to bring the dead back to life she seals her own death warrant. 

There are moments of both heartwarming beauty and devastating sorrow in this book, and it doesn’t always give its characters the send-off that we might think that they deserve. This is particularly the case with Nitsos, who ends up perishing when a spire collapses. Given the extent to which his betrayal was responsible for his family’s demise, this is rather jarring, and neither Rhea nor Chyrstanthi (or the reader) gets the kind of closure that they might have desired. The same is true for Lexos who is struck down by Rhea in a failed murder/suicide pact. It’s all very tragic and very melodramatic, and that’s what makes it so difficult to read and to fully appreciate.

Indeed, rather than seeing these abrupt send-offs as a flaw of the book, however, I see them rather as part of the work’s essential argument about how the world works. The unpleasant truth is that sometimes we don’t get the kind of closure that we would like. Sometimes the world doesn’t work out as we’d hoped, and we’re left doing the best that we can to simply pick up the pieces and go on with our lives. In other words, as my dad once told me, life isn’t perfect, and it’s to Power’s credit that she denies us the easy out that we might have been expecting.

If there is one character in this novel who seems to represent a more positive future, it would be Chrystanthi. To some extent, she has been spared the brutal tyranny of the siblings’ father, which means that for the most part she has a more optimistic outlook on life and its possibilities. No matter what happens, she always sees a way forward. It’s thus not surprising that in the end it falls to her to find some way out of the darkness and despair in which the other members of her family have fallen. In giving up the power that destroyed her family and brought it to ruin, she simultaneously opens up the possibility of a new life for herself and for the man that she loves. Though her siblings are dead, she survives.

Many reviewers have taken issue with the sense of hopelessness that lingers over the ending of An Orchard Grown from Ash and, while I don’t think they’re wrong to draw attention to this aspect of the story, I think they’re rather missing the point. This novel is meant to be both a companion to and a continuation of In a Garden Burning Gold. As a result, it gives us a chance to see the world through the eyes of a traumatized and broken set of brothers and sisters. Like all good tragedies, In an Orchard Grown from Ash mixes the bitter with the sweet, leaving us with the taste of sorrow in our mouths.

Overall, I quite enjoyed In an Orchard Grown from Ash. Power is one of those writers who has the ability to immerse you in her dark and dangerous world, one where great power brings with it not just great responsibility but also devastating pain. What’s more, Power is a very talented stylist, with well-wrought sentences that are as exquisitely crafted as the icons that are so important to the characters. Power brings her characters’ stories to an appropriate end and, while I’m sad to say goodbye to this story, I can’t wait to see what’s next.