I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.

Highlights

~a grown-up fairytale set in the future ~sharks talk now ~depression is the enemy ~sisters rescuing sisters ~surprise, Bad Luck is a lesbian!

This was one of my most-anticipated books of the year, and it lived up to ALL MY HOPES!

Misery’s Wife is a fairytale; it feels like something that came out of your favourite childhood storybook, something that should be lavishly illustrated. But in the way that those storybook tales were written for childhood-you, Misery’s Wife is what you’d get if your favourite fairytales had grown like you’ve grown, written for you now like those past stories were written for you then. This is a fairytale for grown-ups, wry and tongue-in-cheek at times, sharing a wink with the reader and inviting you in on the jokes Tierney plays on her characters. And yet it never sacrifices the sense of enchantment, of wonder and delight, that makes it so special. This is a story that dismisses out of hand the idea that maturity and cynicism are synonyms, the idea that grown-ups love magic any less than children do. If anything, it feels like it was written especially for all those grown-ups who never quite stopped believing, who still hold the longing for magic and wonder deep in their hearts.

“She will be a child of the night and sea, and everything that is untamable will treat her as their own.”

There’s a beautiful rhythm to Tierney’s prose, a deep understanding of the patterns and motifs that make a folktale’s telling catch at our hearts, our breath. The writing here is like poetry, and Tierney’s turns of phrase and imagery are just exquisite. Even if I hadn’t cared about the actual story at all, the prose alone would have had me swooning, eagerly turning the pages just to get more and more of it.

the sky was still a mist-pale purple with the last sips of night draining from its cup.

But the story is wonderful. I don’t know the Portuguese folktale this novel is a retelling of (I don’t even know its name; I did try to find it out, but all my search engines failed me!) so I can say with confidence that you definitely don’t need to know it to enjoy Misery’s Wife. The book is divided into ten parts, beginning with the births of Adelina, Borboleta, and Dores, three sisters each marked by a different part of the world – the sea, the sky, and the storm. We skim over their childhood up till their disappearances, and from there the book belongs to Elixane, the fourth sister, who eventually goes questing to bring her sisters home. Tierney lavishes beauty and magic and strangeness on Elixane’s journeys into otherworldly realms, lingering over enchantment and whimsy and wonder – at least until Elixane goes to find Dores, the sister taken by the King of Misery.

before even the first seeds of sunlight had bloomed.

Up until this point, Misery’s Wife may have sharp, painful undercurrents in the grief Elixane’s family has lived with in the loss of her sisters, but it is mostly a charming, enchanting story. In going after Dores, the book takes a sharp left turn. The kingdom of Misery will strike a chord with anyone who’s ever had to deal with clinical depression, and this is where Elixane’s quest goes from a magical but easy-enough traversal through beautiful fairylands to a quest where she’s fighting for her life. It’s an abrupt transition that stands out starkly from the rest of the book; it almost feels like it comes from another genre, another book, entirely. It was the only part of the book I struggled with. Because it’s too on-point! Speaking as someone who’s still takes meds for it every morning – Tierney has captured exactly what depression feels like and put it on the page, and that’s hard to read.

But at the same time, I think it was a very necessary part of the story: it helps readers who might otherwise not understand why Dores hasn’t rescued herself, understand that. People who’ve never been in an abusive relationship, or struggled with depression, often can’t fathom why people in those situations do what they do – or don’t do what they don’t do. Tierney…expresses the complicated awful truth of what it’s like to be in those situations incredibly well – and even so, Dores isn’t a damsel in distress. She plays an active part in her own rescue – and her narrative arc has the most unexpected conclusion of everyone’s. I’m still not sure why the book was named for her (in the UK next year, this is being published as What Comes From Picking Flowers, and honestly that is a more obviously appropriate title once you’ve read the first part of the book). There’s something I can’t quite articulate about Dores and her story – about what Elixane has to go through just to reach her – that feels incredibly important. Something about strength, the different ways there are to be strong, what it takes to survive and rebuild after surviving. Something about the way Misery’s Wife treats depression the way another book would treat a Dark Lord, like a power and threat to respect and take seriously, when so much of our world doesn’t. Something about even fairytales leaving scars.

“The whales were the ones who first brought light down to the ocean floor,” the whale told her. “They would swallow a shard of the moon every night and feed it to their lightless kin until they learned how to carry it in their skin. The moon let them do this; she knew how to replenish herself with our waves. A give and take; that’s all that life is.

Misery’s Wife calls itself ‘cli fi’ in its description, and that is entirely justified. The book is set quite a long time after the collapse of the world you and I know; there was some kind of climate apocalypse, and in the aftermath, there are a lot less humans and nature has become wilder and stranger than it ever was. (There’s also hints that at least some beings might have come from other worlds?) Animals are much, much bigger than they used to be, and everyone takes it for granted that they can talk; trees can be people (and in fact, a big chunk of the book is taken up by the war going on between the trees and the sea). This isn’t just set-dressing; the importance of nature, and humanity’s place in it/balance with it, is a foundational part of the story Tierney is telling. Elixane’s two oldest sisters and her best friend become joined to different parts of the natural world – the sea, the sky, and the forest – and I think it’s important to note that although each of them bring something to their new homes, have things to offer, none of them rule these new realms the way present-day humans expect to rule nature. I already mentioned that all three of Elixane’s sisters are marked by different parts of nature; that happens before the girls are even born. The myth-making Tierney does around each of their births shows humanity going cap-in-hand to the natural world, having to be careful and follow strict rules that are no longer weighed in humanity’s favour. And Elixane’s whole quest to find and rescue her sisters would never have gotten anywhere if she didn’t reach out to help each of the three animals who are key to reaching each of her sisters. That part especially is very reminiscent of ancient heroes, older stories where it’s a protagonist’s own innate goodness, compassion, and respect for nature that lead them to reward. But unlike those older stories, here the animals only give Elixane the opportunity to find her sisters – the shark she saved doesn’t return later to help her out of a tight spot, the way a beastie in a Grimm fairytale might. Nature – in the form of the three animals – repays her kindness, but doesn’t go out of its way for her. It feels very pointed. In Elixane’s world, humans are tolerated, but they’re definitely no longer treated like the pinnacles of creation.

Before they first sailed out with their rods and nets, mining the seas for riches made of fins and scales, his people had made shoes of fine leather, though Jaco did not know this. It was back in the age of fulcrum and finery, before men had lost the reins of earth.

Misery’s Wife has many more threads than I’d expect from a fairytale – I don’t know if that’s because the original Portuguese story is more complex than the Grimm ones I’m used to, or if Tierney pulled from multiple stories, or added huge original swathes of her own. (I admit I’m partial to the idea that rather than simplifying everything, Portuguese folktales expect their audiences to keep up.) There’s a lot more to the story than three missing sisters – the war between the sea and the trees, the curses on the monarchs of all the elemental realms, the sisters making homes and lives for themselves in the places they vanished to, Dores’ unique struggle with the king of Misery. All of them deserve pages and pages of analysis, because Tierney is so freaking CLEVER at weaving in all this brilliant thought and messaging, exploring so many different ideas through her story! But I want to draw especial attention to the queerness for a sec. Elixane being a trans woman is established briefly and casually, treated as no big deal by the narrative, and rarely if ever comes up again; certainly there is zero transphobia in this story. I wish this didn’t feel so revolutionary, but even in 2026, it very much does, and I can’t express how much I appreciated it. YES, an amazing trans heroine who goes on quests and saves the day and is smarter than everybody! And who has a fabulous queer love story of her own – I haven’t mentioned Luck and Misfortune, who are characters in this book accompanying Elixane on her journeys, but they are FANTASTIC (Luck with all his bells!!!) and Elixane and Jinx (aka Misfortune) gradually becoming closer and closer delighted me endlessly. Jinx is an endlessly fun character, wry and arch and snarky, and just a bit wicked. She reminded me of the proverbial cat, pretending not to want or need petting, but sneakily positioning herself just under your hand for scritches as if by total accident. She and Elixane made a marvellous pair and I approve of them both, and of their romance, IMMENSELY.

“What do we do now?”

Jinx flashed the sharp points of her teeth. “Now, we win.”

As I’ve said, I don’t know how the original tale Misery’s Wife is based on goes – maybe in the folktale too, the protagonist falls for Misfortune. But probably the original tale isn’t explicitly queer, and though I again can’t articulate why, it feels like there’s something special – clever – important about a trans woman and Bad Luck falling in love. Bad Luck being loving, being not bad luck, to a trans woman. It feels – defiant, like a middle finger to all the transphobes, everyone who thinks trans women are misfortunate to be what they are. Does that make sense? Am I reading too much into it? I don’t know! But as a nonbinary reader, it struck a chord and made me grin so hard.

Misery’s Wife is everything a fairytale should be; beautiful, inspiring, woven through with important messages, and resonating with something deep and true. It brought me so much joy. Tierney has gone directly onto my auto-buy author list – I will happily pounce on anything she writes! – and I’m so unspeakably happy this book exists. It’s gorgeous and clever and joy-full. I think it’s needed, too. I hope it finds every reader who’ll love it as much as I do!

The US edition is out next week. Go preorder it if you haven’t yet!