Five girls gather in a treehouse in the opening scene of Juno Dawson’s debut adult novel. The following day, on the summer solstice, they will pledge their oaths to Gaia and Her Majesty’s Royal Coven, a top secret government department of witches founded by Anne Boleyn and charged with protecting the United Kingdom from magical forces and otherworldly evil. (The nifty acronyms continue: the US equivalent is the Coven Intelligence America.) Dawson may be best known as a young adult writer, but this is no witching coming-of-age story. In a playful twist on fantasy tropes, the action leaps forward 25 years. A magical civil war has been fought and won and our witches are now navigating life in their late 30s.
White, wealthy Helena is the youngest ever high priestess of HMRC. Elle is a nurse who has largely eschewed the witching community for the comforts of middle-class mediocrity. Leonie, a mixed-race lesbian, has broken away to form Diaspora, her own, more inclusive, coven. Irish Niamh, widowed in the war, is a country vet in Hebden Bridge and Ciara, her twin sister who fought on the wrong side, is now incarcerated in magical prison. Whisperings of an apocalyptic prophecy foretell a “sullied child” with the capacity to destroy both the coven and the world. Can the friends put aside their differences and work together to thwart the coming darkness? And what does it mean that the child comes in the form of a transgender teenage witch?
Against the backdrop of this epic fantasy world Dawson takes a razor-sharp but nuanced look at the political and social landscape of the UK, broaching everything from power structures and discrimination to feminism and transphobia. If that all sounds terribly worthy, fear not – it’s immensely readable and highly entertaining. Her writing is smart and witty, the dialogue reminiscent of gossip with a good friend, littered with nostalgic pop culture references: the bickering over who would be each Spice Girl becomes eerily significant. The world of the covens may be immersive, the social commentary highly pertinent and the combination of demons and domesticity deliciously enticing, but it is the relationships between the women, in all their gnarly complexity, that form the real meat of the novel: the messy, tender, fierce realities of friendships honed over a quarter of a century.
At times the sprawling character list and weight of the backstory threaten to upend the narrative. The launch book in a trilogy, the first half is largely world-building and the cliffhanger ending is pure torture. But these are small gripes; fans of feminist fantasy are certain to be bewitched.
Her Majesty’s Royal Coven by Juno Dawson is published by Harper Voyager (£14.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
