Country manor house mystery meets fairy tale fantasy, with plenty of scandal, magic, and handsome young men wandering around: I went into this one seeking escapism and fun in the midst of a stressful week, and that is exactly what I got.
Her father is dead, and Hetta Valstar is going home to Stariel, an honorable but rundown estate in this fantasy world's version of 1910s Northern England. The late Lord Valstar cut his rebellious daughter off when she ran away to the big city to study magic and work in---ready your smelling salts, please---the theatre. Hetta is grown up and glamorous now, with magical expertise, shocking taste in lipstick, and her own life to return to once the formalities are through. Sure, she'll reconnect with friends and family, indulge in nostalgia, and flirt unabashedly with some handsome locals. She'll attend the funeral and, more importantly, the magical ceremony that determines the next Lord of Stariel. And then she'll leave.
Needless to say, things do not go as planned.
Stariel faces threats both magical and mundane. The house is in desperate need of repair, there's a blackmailer at large, the magical boundaries are weakening, just about everyone is keeping secrets, and oh yes, the ancient law keeping the legendary fae from bringing their generations-old wars to the mortal realm has been rescinded. And just when Stariel most needs a lord, something has gone terribly wrong with the Ceremony of Choosing.
Family drama, magical battles, romance, faerie courts, stolen heirlooms: by all rights, this should be an overstuffed combination of competing sub-genres too top-heavy not to tumble. But it's precisely because The Lord of Stariel knows exactly what it wants to be and what it wants to do that this alchemy creates something so fun and thoroughly charming.
The book has flaws. As a mystery, for example, The Lord of Stariel leaves much to be desired. The clues are minimal, the red herrings are rather half-hearted, and you never get that snap of a meticulously-constructed whodunnit coming together. But there's so much else going on that it's easy to accept the mystery plot as merely the scaffolding on which the rest of the story is built, and a most efficient way to get down to the enjoyable business of running around Stariel with Hetta and her allies, rivals, and relations. There is---and I say this with nothing but good will---not a moment of genuine suspense in The Lord of Stariel. At no point was I less than confident in the eventual arrival of a satisfying and cheerful conclusion, and so help me that is just the way I liked it.
This book does not reach for psychological depth and many of the characters are mere sketches. But there's real elegance in much of the characterization, too. With the lightest of touches, the book creates a compelling sense of Hetta's profound ambivalence at returning to Stariel, and a marvelous portrait of Stariel's house and family. There are no ponderous explanations of Valstar history or internecine drama: in dialogue and a few quick asides, Lancaster conjures a large and quarrelsome extended clan with warmth and recognizable authenticity. Especially evocative is the dynamic of the Grown Cousins, those in-between Valstars who have adult lives of their own, but who are never quite all the way grown up in the eyes of their elders, who can still cheerfully regress into childhood squabbles and capers. Hetta and her closest contemporaries swing between their roles of erstwhile playmates and allies against disapproving aunts or troublemaking younger siblings, and adult rivals in the inheritance drama and family politics of Stariel. I was both struck by the the sense of familiarity, and eager to learn more of the specifics.
I would have liked to see more of the Valstar family, especially the women: intriguing figures like Hetta's grandmother, aunts, half-sisters and female cousins exist only as broad outlines. The significant supporting cast is small and entirely male. Fingers crossed for the rest of the series.
So while I enjoyed this book immensely, I’m obviously still compelled to drone on about its shortcomings. But thinking about it, its strengths and flaws, I’m coming back again to the question of what the book is trying to accomplish, in mood and world and reader experience. It doesn't do everything perfectly, but it does was it most wants to do very well indeed.
This is a romp. It is charming and elegant fun. It is a story about people you want to spend time with, and just as importantly, a place you want to know. In style and tone, it's reminiscent of Diana Wynne Jones' Chrestomanci books and Patricia C. Wrede's Mairelon the Magician, with a dash of Nancy Mitford and some rich Northern burr. Enjoy it with a cup of tea, and forget whatever is keeping you awake in the grim hours of the night.