This book is so beautiful. The Girl Who Drank The Moon OOZES with emotion. With heart. With depth and warmth and intimacy and intensity.

It’s a story about a curious girl with magic hidden inside her, an old witch with a big heart, a swamp monster with a brilliant mind, a Perfectly Tiny Dragon with boundless energy, a man with regret and fear and hope, and at the center of it all, a town plagued by deep, deep sorrow. And it is Even More than that.

It’s a story about love and loss. Of the dangers of sorrow and secrets, and the consequences of suppressing them.

It’s a story about memory. Memories hidden and memories taken and memories resurfacing.

It’s a story about family. A story about the love that makes a family. The love of mothers and grandmothers and daughters. The kind of love that is magic.

It’s a story about hope. Hope in the darkest places. Hope in spite all odds. Hope and hope and hope with all your heart.

The Girl Who Drank The Moon feels like a modern fairytale in every way. It’s hopeful and whimsical and beautiful, but at the same time sad and terrible and heartbreaking. I adore how the story was simple in theory, yet rich with a deep meaning. I felt curious and happy and horrified and deeply saddened and deeply joyous and deeply moved.

Honestly, I’m rendered speechless by how much I love this book. 😭🤍🌕