When I first read Sabriel I hadn’t the slightest interest in relationships, so the romance seemed to come out of nowhere. The book seemed shorter than I’d remembered – either because I’m a faster reader now, or because I’m now accustomed to the scope of epic fantasy. Nix’s evocative writing, more than the plot, had left a deep imprint on my memory. The comforting warmth of Abhorsen’s House. The atmospheric and chilling settings, such as the ship graveyard and the long grey river of Death. It’s the visceral moments, the sensory language: the salty taste of blood, a “savage” kiss, the scent of lemons. It was fascinating to see which sections had anchored themselves in the back of my mind after reading it once 14 years ago. Would it hold up, now I’m twice the age I was when I first read it? When I opened that copy a few days ago, I did feel a glimmer of worry. I bought another in 2017, when I did two events in Australia alongside Garth Nix – something my younger self would never have believed would happen. It not only restored my faith that fantasy had room for me, but helped convince me I could write my own.Īt some point, I mislaid my copy. This was a thrilling, extraordinarily detailed fantasy that centred on a young woman, to the point that her name was the title of the book. From the first chapter, I couldn’t get enough of it. Except for the Harry Potter books, I didn’t pick up another fantasy for years.Įventually, when I was about 14, a friend persuaded me to read Sabriel. Unfortunately in the book, Arwen doesn’t fight the Nazgûl – a realisation that crushed a 10-year-old girl who longed to see herself in the stories she loved. As soon as the credits rolled, I ran to a bookshop to buy the whole trilogy. In 2001, I watched The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, and for the first time, I saw a woman use a sword.

Sabriel audio book