Deny Me, the Nightshade Boy Is a Minnesota Urban Fantasy with Stronger Social Commentary Than Story

Mary VanAlstine

There is something comforting for me about tales that blend the fantastic into the world of the mundane. It was a penchant of mine when it came to my reading selection in my youth, which I can confess now as an adult was a choice made with unfettered optimism and hope that maybe one day I too would stumble upon a dragon’s egg in a clearing, or be asked for help by some sprite or elvish nobility.

Today I still find enjoyment in this trope, though I seek out works that also sate my mature reading needs—dark themes, psychological trauma, violence, and adult “situations,” to name a few examples. These are a few things that St. Paul author Mary VanAlstine warns readers of in the first book of the Heartwood Trilogy, Deny Me, the Nightshade Boy, a fantasy story set in the Twin Cities.

Andrew Vidasche is determined to find where his long-lost mother found the Fae-spelled food that whisked her away, until he stumbles across a beautiful sleeping Fae woman. After he accidentally draws her blood, she vows to haunt him for his trespass against her, and Andrew refocuses his energy on just maintaining his sanity … that is, until a pair of charming violet eyes catches his gaze in a nightclub that he has no business being in. Half-human, half-Fae Micah Stillwater is merely trying to find happiness in the ordinary despite his life being anything but when Andrew comes into sight. Unable to resist each other, they exchange a kiss and become entangled in each other’s messy lives.

Deny Me, the Nightshade Boy reads like a YA novel, but the leads of the tale are respectfully full-grown adults. The story offers readers a cast of queer-coded characters and plenty of healthy conversations revolving around anxiety, family trauma, and nods to the generally harsh times for those in LGBTQIA+ communities. Ordinarily, I prefer social commentary to be more subtle in fantasy fiction, but it works well for VanAlstine, who is genderqueer. In fact, these conversation points are the strongest points of the story—which is something of a disappointment for a fantasy romance.

The novel’s characters have personalities and clear desires, but they fall short of feeling like fully real people—the way in which they interact, especially during and following conflicts, did not always feel like it made sense with the rest of their character development. With the exception of family bonds and the unique kinship between Andrew and his employee/friend, a rather delightful but all-too-trusting trans man by the name of Sam Larson, none of the relationships formed on the pages, romantic or otherwise, stood out or displayed authentic growth. There are several points throughout the tale when tensions run high, but rather than letting those feelings build or providing the space for the cast to grow from conflict, the issues are swept aside for the sake of continuing the narrative to the predestined climax (which also left me underwhelmed).

The underlying plot of Micah’s lineage and family ties is for me one of the most interesting areas of the novel, along with how it is that European Fae migrated to the Americas and specifically the Twin Cities area, but neither of those arenas are explored in the book aside from Micah’s quick rundown of how his parents met. More substance, especially for Micah’s heritage, birth, and source of power, would have been greatly appreciated. VanAlstine might elaborate more on the Fae of Lilydale in the remaining two books of the planned trilogy, but I don’t think I will be continuing on this literary journey.

Deny Me, the Nightshade Boy is out now. There is a launch party for the book on Saturday, September 16, at Cream & Amber in Hopkins.

Note: Mary VanAlstine is the spouse of Twin Cities Geek contributor Ryan VanAlstine.