Subgenre: Feminist Fairytale Retelling / Portal Fantasy / Speculative Novella
Overall Rating: ★★★★☆ (4.2 out of 5 defiant spinning wheels)

Once upon a time, the “Sleeping Beauty” trope got tired of its own nap. Enter A Spindle Splintered, Alix E. Harrow’s sharp, shimmering novella that says, “What if the girl doomed to die before her 21st birthday actually got to kick destiny in the teeth?”

This isn’t your average fairytale. It’s a multiversal, metaphor-laced reclamation with feminist fangs, where every page dares to ask: Who decides what makes a happy ending?

🧵 The Premise: Sleeping Beauties Across the Multiverse

Zinnia Gray has a terminal illness, a morbid sense of humor, and a deep-rooted obsession with Sleeping Beauty stories (the Grimms, the glam, the gruesome). As a birthday prank turned act of cosmic rebellion, her best friend throws her a themed party… complete with spinning wheel. One accidental prick (as you do), and Zinnia finds herself yanked into a parallel fairytale dimension—where another doomed girl is trapped in her own towered fate.

Hijinks, heartbreak, and heroine-empowerment ensue. With glitter. And sarcasm. And queer longing.

🌟 What Harrow Does Best (Spoiler: It’s a Lot)

💬 A Voice That Crackles with Sass and Sadness

Zinnia’s narration is all sharp edges softened by existential humor. Harrow balances gallows wit with genuine emotional heft—think The Princess Bride with an awareness of medical injustice, or Doctor Who with a degree in gender studies.

🪞 A Metatextual Marvel

Fairytales aren’t just retold here—they’re interrogated, bent, and braided with critique. What does it mean to be “rescued”? Who gets written out of the tale? Harrow weaves folklore, feminism, and fierce yearning into something short, punchy, and thought-provoking.

🏳️‍🌈 Queer Joy Without Trauma as a Plot Point

Zinnia’s queerness is just… part of the fabric. Refreshing, tender, and never tokenized. We love to see it. Representation that feels natural and warm, without needing to justify itself.

🕳️ Multiverse Magic Done Right

The parallel-world mechanics are delightfully weird but never confusing. And while the novella’s short length means the world-hopping is more suggested than fully explored, what’s there is creative and symbolic.

⚖️ Slight Fractures in the Spell

  • Length Limits: At under 130 pages, some emotional and plot arcs wrap up a tad too quickly. You might find yourself wishing for more time in each world (and with each version of “Sleeping Beauty”).
  • Exposition-Heavy Moments: The book leans a bit on explanation over exploration, especially when dropping fairytale lore. It doesn’t drag—but it sometimes talks more than it shows.
  • Ends Neatly, But Not Deeply: The emotional beats land, but some readers may crave a messier, more morally complex resolution.

Still, these are whispers of critique in what is otherwise a smart, sparkly whirlwind.

🚩 Potential Triggers (Mild to Moderate)

  • Terminal illness and discussions of early death
  • Medical trauma and system neglect
  • Brief depictions of death and violence (non-graphic)
  • Emotional distress related to mortality
  • Familial strain and anticipatory grief

While these themes are present, they are handled with empathy, respect, and—importantly—hope.

📚 Best For Readers Who…

  • Adore fairytales but wish they came with bite, brains, and a splash of queer joy
  • Loved The Ten Thousand Doors of January or The Hazel Wood
  • Appreciate novella-length stories that deliver narrative bang for your buck
  • Have a soft spot for fractured fairytales and feminist reimaginings
  • Enjoy clever writing that isn’t afraid to be sincere

Bonus: Ideal for readers who want to cry a little, but also grin through their tears.

✨ Final Verdict: Short, Sharp, and Satisfyingly Subversive

A Spindle Splintered is a glittering blade in novella form—a tale that slices through the old narrative scaffolding and dares to dream up something truer. Alix Harrow gifts us a heroine who knows she may not get forever, but insists on freedom in whatever time she’s got.

It’s tender. It’s snarky. It’s deeply, defiantly human.

Gwythus gives it a soft, wistful sigh and a defiant raised fist. Because sometimes, the best stories don’t let you sleep—they make you wake up.