Ladino magic goes up against the Spanish Inquisition in Leigh Bardugo’s brilliant historical fantasy novel The Familiar, which came out in April. I’m always eager to find more Jewish representation in fantasy and gothic/horror fiction, and ever since reading Rose Lerner’s The Wife in the Attic, I’ve been particularly interested in the plight of conversos in Inquisition-controlled Spain or Portugal—a subject I’ve rarely seen tackled in these genres. The Familiar proves that this slice of history makes a compelling backdrop for Gothic stories.
Luzia Cotado comes from a family of conversos—Jews who were forcibly converted to Christianity in fifteenth-century Spain. Though they made sure to be seen in church every week taking Communion, her parents did their best to teach Luzia about their heritage and their values and traditions. But most valuable of all were the refranes she learned from letters sent to her aunt—short phrases in the Jewish language of Ladino that take on special power when Luzia speaks them out loud. These little works of magic are a balm to Luzia, helping to ease some of the hardships of her life as a kitchen scullion—her only means to support herself after her parents’ deaths. But when Valentina, the mistress of Luzia’s household, catches her using magic, Luzia is pulled into a dangerous world of political intrigue and risky power plays. Can she pass her refranes off as the miraculous workings of a pious Christian woman long enough to win a competition to become the king’s personal miracle-maker? Or will she be exposed as a heretic and handed over to the Inquisition?
As I mentioned in my review of The Wife in the Attic, the Inquisition played a major role in early Gothic novels, from Matthew Lewis’s The Monk (1796) to Charles Maturin’s Melmoth the Wanderer (1820). In those two works, specifically, the torments of the Inquisition provide the perfect opportunity for a devilish character to swoop in and offer relief in the form of a Faustian bargain. In The Familiar, Luzia is continually presented with imperfect bargains and trade-offs. Will she give up the safety of obscurity for the chance to pursue power? Should she ally with someone who might stab her in the back? Would she abandon others to save herself? The closer she comes to the grasp of the Inquisitors, the more dire these questions become and the more unsure Luzia becomes of her own answers.
But the character who truly enters into a Faustian bargain is Luzia’s magical mentor, Guillén Santángel. Centuries ago as a careless youth, he was approached by a stranger who offered him immortality in exchange for “the thing he valued least.” Readers of the Gothic will know that the true price of immortality is never as cheap as it seems. Since striking his bargain, Santángel has found himself spending his eternity bound in servitude to a string of cruel and powerful men. He despises his life but still cannot bring himself to die. Then he meets Luzia and is reminded of the things that make life worth living—and some things that are worth more than life itself. Can Luzia finally break his curse? I won’t spoil the book’s ending, but I do want to say that I felt it beautifully subverts the antisemitic iteration of the cursed wanderer trope in a way that readers less familiar with the legend of the Wandering Jew might not fully appreciate but that brought me nearly to tears.
If you like your historical fantasy heavy on both the history and fantasy—with a nice bit of romance thrown in, as well—don’t miss The Familiar. You can find it on shelves now at your favorite local retailer, or buy it online and support The Gothic Library in the process using this Bookshop.org affiliate link. If you’ve already read it, let me know what you think in the comments! And feel free to share your other Jewish fantasy recs.