Margo Lanagan's Tender Morsels is a dark, fantastical tale that because of extremely intense subject matter will likely be left out of some school libraries. This is a shame, because the writing is lyrical and engaging, with clever phrasing and just the right use of descriptives to paint incredible pictures of events occurring in the characters' lives. This book reminded me very much of Orson Scott Card's Enchanted, and yet at the same time it deals with devastating, mature themes beyond that of Card's unique and entertaining storytelling. This book might be more akin to Robin McKinley's Deerskin, another disturbing, complex novel that deals with very dark themes.

I came across Tender Morsels when a colleague asked me if I'd read it. As he described his wariness about placing it in his school library collection, I felt compelled to do a bit of research on this Printz award-winning (2009) novel, even while I admit that his initial description made me also immediately question whether themes in this book might be too strong for young adult readers. As stewards to student readers aged 14 through 19, school librarians must consider the overall community culture, as well as cognitive and emotional levels of student development.

As I began to research this novel, however, I discovered glowing reports. Over and over again, I found references to the incredible writing style, the storytelling finesse, with some writers even calling this the young adult "book of the year" when it was published. I'm glad I took the time to read this book, even though the description below will probably put most people off on actually reading it. 

Liga is fifteen or so, and lives alone with her father in a tiny cottage on the edge of a town, and is essentially her father's slave both in terms of housekeeping and fulfilling his sexual needs. Her mother died years ago, and Liga knows that what her father does to her is wrong, but feels powerless to stop his nightly abuses. When the novel opens, the reader gradually comes to realize that her father has given her a type of tea brewed by the village charlatan, and that when Liga becomes very ill it is because the concoction has caused her to miscarry the child inside of her. Liga is so innocent and unsophisticated that similar events occur again before she makes the connection between her father's actions and her gradually swelling stomach. 

Told as a readable, beautifully written fairytale detailing both immense cruelties and incredible joys, the story follows Liga's trials over time as she gives birth to two illegitimate daughters (one the result of her father's rape, and the other from a gang rape), and within one horrible day and night her descent into a surreal yet comforting madness that provides her mind with the only safe place to hide from the ugliness surrounding her. As the two girls grow and flourish, they chafe at their strange lifestyle that includes a perfectly kept cottage, plenty of wholesome food, and infrequent visits to the nearby village where the townspeople almost seem to look right through them. 

There are many more details and characters in this book, but you need to read it for yourself. I love how Lanagan deftly blends magical happenings with the realities impacting the characters, and her use of animals and their intersections with human lives. Tender Morsels will remind you that there is indeed good in the world, and that the tenuous, delicate strengths of the human spirit may become the strongest bonds that sustain us all. The dreamy language raises the reader up above the harsh and ugly events in Liga's world, and I fully understand now the initial reviewers' claims I uncovered. This book won't be everyone's cup of tea, and for that reason I predict it will, over time, develop a cult following among young people who might just need a read like this to help them make sense of their own lives.