The Familiar a magical tale based in real Spanish history
Leigh Bardugo has made a career out of writing about oppressed people who wield uncanny powers. Her latest adult novel, The Familiar, explores this theme with an even greater depth and sensitivity. The Familiar, which is set in late-16th-century Spain, is centred on a young servant named Luzia who has the power to create milagritos, or small miracles. When Luzia's power is accidentally discovered, influential people want to use her for their own advancement, and soon she's entangled in political intrigue, as well as competition with other miracle-workers. Through it all, Luzia must hide the true nature of her power, which comes from reciting refranes, or old sayings, in Ladino — a Sephardic dialect of Spanish mixed with Hebrew and other languages. Nobody can know that Luzia is a conversa, a Jew whose family was forced to convert to Catholicism.
Stories about subaltern people who can work wonders often serve as a way to think about the multi-faceted nature of power — how total agency in one realm can give way to helplessness in others. But they are also a window into the dual nature of stigma, which often assigns improbable power and usefulness to the most-stigmatized people. This common fantasy trope allows us to root for a hero who is an underdog but also unbeatable.
The Familiar feels distinct because it explores a brutal and shameful real-life history. Bardugo unsparingly depicts the violence inflicted on Jews and other non-christians by the Spanish Inquisition, and the toll that hiding imposes on people. The Familiar hits hardest when it shows Luzia's father succumbing to madness, and her constant fear that she will be found out as a conversa. Bardugo brilliantly explores the wavy line between the supernatural and the divine: Magic is forbidden, but miracles come from God.
Luzia's status as a kitchen servant also shapes how she moves through the world. She pretends to be illiterate, when she can read Latin as well as Spanish, and puts on an exaggerated humble persona. She befriends Santángel, the mysterious supernatural bodyguard to a powerful nobleman who is the familiar of the title.
Occasionally, the two halves of The Familiar are in an uneasy tension: Its escapist narrative about a lowly person whose power raises them up chafes against the darker real-life story of the hateful Spanish Inquisition. Bardugo has clearly done a lot of research, but she uses it sparingly, and her breakneck pace sometimes means sacrificing immersion. Some of the political wranglings fail to fully come into focus, and one major development falls a bit flat as a result. And yet, when Bardugo chooses to venture further into the darkness, it's that much more devastating because of how much fun the reader has been having.
This is a story about the suffering that results when the majority imposes its religion on everyone else, using coercive authority to control the identities of all. That, alone, makes The Familiar an essential read.