by Freya Marske
- Fiction
- Fantasy
- Magic
A Marvellous Light is a queer, magical realist novel set in an alternative Edwardian England. It follows Robin Blyth, who unexpectedly finds himself in a new government position that plunges him into a hidden world of magic. After being attacked and cursed, Robin must rely on the help of Edwin Courcey, a prickly and intelligent magician, to unravel the mystery and free him from his curse.
At first, I wouldn’t say the book immediately gripped me — but it didn’t take long before I was fully immersed in its world. While the novel doesn’t spend much time on elaborate world-building, the setting feels grounded in the familiar charm of the English countryside, with a touch of the uncanny woven throughout.
Though the story blends adventure, mystery, and romance, I found the romantic element a little slow to start. However, when it did finally ignite — it really ignited. The intimacy was detailed and explicit, perhaps more so than necessary, though undeniably passionate and unapologetic.
This is the first book in The Last Binding series, and I’m especially eager to read the sequel after meeting Robin’s sister, Maud. At first, she didn’t particularly stand out to me, but as the story progressed, she became a much more compelling and central character. Knowing that the next book follows her perspective has definitely piqued my interest.
One of the novel’s strengths is how it explores LGBTQ+ themes in a historical context where such relationships were socially taboo. Yet Marske handles them with a modern sensibility, balancing the period’s restrictions with a sense of freedom and authenticity. The steamy scenes are plentiful and vividly written — though whether they needed to be that detailed is debatable.
Despite its Edwardian setting, the story could easily have taken place in another era without losing much. Still, Marske manages to evoke the period beautifully through dialogue, tone, and atmosphere.
A standout element for me was the sentient estate, which reminded me of A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness. I’ve always loved this trope — a house that feels alive, unpredictable, and almost emotionally responsive — and it added a layer of intrigue to the story.
As part of his curse, Robin begins to see strange visions of the future. While initially compelling, this subplot didn’t feel fully developed and might not have added as much as it could have. In fact, I almost wish Robin had remained completely non-magical — it could have made his relationship with Edwin even more exciting and forbidden, giving the story a touch of Romeo and Juliet tension.
One area where the book felt weaker was in its portrayal of women. The Edwardian social hierarchy — where women are seen as too delicate or unimportant to handle magic — is fitting for the era, but still disappointing. While there are some strong female characters, I hope the next instalment gives them more agency and power within the magical world.
Another intriguing detail is the “Lethe-mint” — a magical lemonade used to erase the memories of non-magical people who discover the hidden world. Edwin’s family’s casual cruelty in using it as a toy for their amusement was particularly striking. While its existence makes sense as a safeguard, the way they exploit it raises moral questions that linger long after reading.
Overall, A Marvellous Light is an enjoyable and beautifully written blend of mystery, magic, and romance. I’d especially recommend it to readers who enjoy queer fantasy or steamy historical romance. It’s definitely not one for children — but for adults who love a good magical mystery with emotional depth (and a generous dose of heat), it’s worth the read.
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