Spellbook of the Lost and Found

You know that feeling you get when you're walking down an empty, tree-lined street in the middle of a summer afternoon, and a storm starts to roll in? When the wind blows through the leaves and makes them whisper and sigh; the warmth of the air bloats, becoming heavy and ominous; the sky that was bright just a few minutes ago turns green and purple like a week-old bruise? That's how this book feels. Something pure and luminous, seething with darkness. Something sinister, crackling with the promise of magic.

It took me a bit to get acquainted with all the different characters, relationships, and storylines (and it didn't help that everyone in this book has a name like the furniture in an Anthropologie catalogue—Laurel, Ivy, Ash, Rowan, Hazel), but even while I was still minorly confused, I found myself becoming wrapped up in the mysteries and intrigues as well. And while it's unclear whether the spells in this book are real, it's obvious that magic is undoubtedly so.

And not just magic. Girls full of magic. So many kinds of magic, so many kinds of girls. Brave girls, scared girls. Insecure girls, confident girls. Girl friends, girlfriends. Protective, feminist, angry, sad, happy girls. Lost girls. Found girls.

Most of all, this book is about losing and finding things, and how we decide which losses and findings are most important to us. Sometimes we may think we've lost something invaluable, something we cannot live without—but when pressed, we realize that what we've gained in the place of that loss is something so much more important. Knowledge. Confidence. Wisdom. Courage. Love. These are things that we often have to sacrifice for, but in the end, we're more thankful for what we've gained, than regretful for what we've lost. And that realization....might just be a kind of magic.