Book Review: Strange the Dreamer

I’ve been reading a lot lately—the BookTok, romance masquerading as fantasy kind of books. So when Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor was recommended to me by Goodreads, I wasn’t expecting it to be a thought-provoking read. Strange the Dreamer follows the story of a young man named Lazlo Strange, an orphan raised by monks and librarians in the war-torn world of Zosma. Lazlo spends his early years daydreaming about stories of a lost city and its legendary warriors. One day, the characters from his beloved fairy tales walk into his life and take him on a grand adventure to save their world. 

The main character, Lazlo, is easy to love—he’s bookish, charming, and selfless. Neither handsome or ugly, but striking, nonetheless. Several times throughout the novel, we find him placing the best interest of others ahead of his own happiness and even safety—to a fault. Similar to Lazlo, we find Eril-Fane, a warrior who protects his people at all cost, even when it destroys him in the process. Unlike Eril-Fane, however, Lazlo finds happiness through his selflessness, at least at first. And then we have Sarai, the daughter of a goddess who has the ability to control dreams and turn them into nightmares. Her growing empathy draws her from a place of self-protection to a spirit of courage—and standing up for what’s right, even if it means sacrificing your own safety.

For a young adult novel, the author introduces a variety of substantial themes. The more I think about the story, the more of them I identify. First and foremost is loneliness. Nearly every character suffers from loneliness. Some by choice. Some by circumstance. Taylor explores the many facets of isolation—physical and emotional. Some of the characters are literally isolated, unable to leave an angelic structure dubbed “the citadel.” But even if they could leave, they wouldn’t. They have never known the outside world and assume only hostility is waiting for them beyond the walls of their fortress. Other characters are outsiders isolated by daydreams or tortured soles hidden in shame.

Taylor also traces the fine ledge between love and hate throughout the story. One of the characters is in fact forced to love his most hated enemy, the mutual exclusivity of the two emotions nearly destroying him in the process. Similarly, other characters battle empathy and love toward people they have been conditioned to hate. This theme digs into the gray areas of our most primal emotions, laying bare the reality of interpretation—it’s different depending on the angle from which you are viewing it.

Finally, the theme of life. While all of the characters are alive, that is, none of them are experiencing the events of the story from the afterlife, Taylor makes the distinction early on that there is a difference between simply being alive and living. From Lazlo, who always has his head in books, to Sarai, who spends her waking hours haunting other people’s dreams, we see that life needs to be intentionally experienced, not merely observed. The characters in the book even have two hearts pumping two distinct fluids through their bodies—blood and spirit. While they can stay alive without spirit, the characters grow sickly and emotionless without the translucent fluid in their veins. 

Strange the Dreamer was packed full of poignant themes and memorable characters. I cried during the last fifty or so pages and then immediately sent a link to it to half a dozen of my friends and family members. I told my husband that I haven’t read anything like it in years. It massaged my brain in just the right place, kind of like when I scratch my dog’s belly and it makes his leg kick. If you’re a fan of Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, or any other allegorical fantasy series, you’ll love Strange the Dreamer. It’s unlike anything I’ve read in a long time, and you might find yourself staying up late, reading with a flashlight under the covers.