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Lessons in Magic and Disaster
In the vein of Alice Hoffman and Charlie Jane Anders's own All the Birds in the Sky comes a novel full of love, disaster, and magic.
A young witch teaches her mother how to do magic--with very unexpected results--in this relatable, resonant novel about family, identity, and the power of love.
Jamie is basically your average New England academic in-training--she has a strong queer relationship, an esoteric dissertation proposal, and inherited generational trauma. But she has one extraordinary secret: she's also a powerful witch.
Serena, Jamie's mother, has been hiding from the world in an old one-room schoolhouse for several years, grieving the death of her wife and the simultaneous explosion in her professional life. All she has left are memories.
Jamie’s busy digging into a three-hundred-year-old magical book, but she still finds time to teach Serena to cast spells and help her come out of her shell. But Jamie doesn't know the whole story of what happened to her mom years ago, and those secrets are leading Serena down a destructive path.
Now it's up to this grad student and literature nerd to understand the secrets behind this mysterious novel from 1749, unearth a long-buried scandal hinted therein, and learn the true nature of magic, before her mother ruins both of their lives.
A young witch teaches her mother how to do magic--with very unexpected results--in this relatable, resonant novel about family, identity, and the power of love.
Jamie is basically your average New England academic in-training--she has a strong queer relationship, an esoteric dissertation proposal, and inherited generational trauma. But she has one extraordinary secret: she's also a powerful witch.
Serena, Jamie's mother, has been hiding from the world in an old one-room schoolhouse for several years, grieving the death of her wife and the simultaneous explosion in her professional life. All she has left are memories.
Jamie’s busy digging into a three-hundred-year-old magical book, but she still finds time to teach Serena to cast spells and help her come out of her shell. But Jamie doesn't know the whole story of what happened to her mom years ago, and those secrets are leading Serena down a destructive path.
Now it's up to this grad student and literature nerd to understand the secrets behind this mysterious novel from 1749, unearth a long-buried scandal hinted therein, and learn the true nature of magic, before her mother ruins both of their lives.
320 pages, Hardcover
First published August 19, 2025
164 people are currently reading
15080 people want to read
About the author
Charlie Jane Anders
163 books4,043 followersMy latest book is Victories Greater Than Death. Coming in August: Never Say You Can't Survive: How to Get Through Hard Times By Making Up Stories.
Previously: All the Birds in the Sky, The City in the Middle of the Night, and a short story collection, Six Months, Three Days, Five Others.
Coming soon: An adult novel, and a short story collection called Even Greater Mistakes.
I used to write for a site called io9.com, and now I write for various places here and there.
I won the Emperor Norton Award, for “extraordinary invention and creativity unhindered by the constraints of paltry reason.” I've also won a Hugo Award, a Nebula Award, a William H. Crawford Award, a Theodore Sturgeon Award, a Locus Award and a Lambda Literary Award.
My stories, essays and journalism have appeared in Wired Magazine, the Boston Review, Conjunctions, Tin House, Slate, MIT Technology Review, the New York Times, the Washington Post, the San Francisco Chronicle, Tor.com, Lightspeed Magazine, McSweeney’s, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, ZYZZYVA, Strange Horizons, Apex Magazine, Uncanny Magazine, 3 AM Magazine, Flurb.net, Monkey Bicycle, Pindeldyboz, Instant City, Broken Pencil, and in tons and tons of anthologies.
I organize Writers With Drinks, which is a monthly reading series here in San Francisco that mashes up a ton of different genres. I co-host a Hugo Award-winning podcast, Our Opinions Are Correct, with Annalee Newitz.
Back in 2007, Annalee and I put out a book of first-person stories by female geeks called She’s Such a Geek: Women Write About Science, Technology and Other Nerdy Stuff. There was a lot of resistance to doing this book, because nobody believed there was a market for writing about female geeks. Also, Annalee and I put out a print magazine called other, which was about pop culture, politics and general weirdness, aimed at people who don’t fit into other categories. To raise money for other magazine, we put on events like a Ballerina Pie Fight – which is just what it sounds like – and a sexy show in a hair salon where people took off their clothes while getting their hair cut.
I used to live in a Buddhist nunnery, when I was a teenager. I love to do karaoke. I eat way too much spicy food. I hug trees and pat stone lions for luck. I talk to myself way too much when I’m working on a story.
Previously: All the Birds in the Sky, The City in the Middle of the Night, and a short story collection, Six Months, Three Days, Five Others.
Coming soon: An adult novel, and a short story collection called Even Greater Mistakes.
I used to write for a site called io9.com, and now I write for various places here and there.
I won the Emperor Norton Award, for “extraordinary invention and creativity unhindered by the constraints of paltry reason.” I've also won a Hugo Award, a Nebula Award, a William H. Crawford Award, a Theodore Sturgeon Award, a Locus Award and a Lambda Literary Award.
My stories, essays and journalism have appeared in Wired Magazine, the Boston Review, Conjunctions, Tin House, Slate, MIT Technology Review, the New York Times, the Washington Post, the San Francisco Chronicle, Tor.com, Lightspeed Magazine, McSweeney’s, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, ZYZZYVA, Strange Horizons, Apex Magazine, Uncanny Magazine, 3 AM Magazine, Flurb.net, Monkey Bicycle, Pindeldyboz, Instant City, Broken Pencil, and in tons and tons of anthologies.
I organize Writers With Drinks, which is a monthly reading series here in San Francisco that mashes up a ton of different genres. I co-host a Hugo Award-winning podcast, Our Opinions Are Correct, with Annalee Newitz.
Back in 2007, Annalee and I put out a book of first-person stories by female geeks called She’s Such a Geek: Women Write About Science, Technology and Other Nerdy Stuff. There was a lot of resistance to doing this book, because nobody believed there was a market for writing about female geeks. Also, Annalee and I put out a print magazine called other, which was about pop culture, politics and general weirdness, aimed at people who don’t fit into other categories. To raise money for other magazine, we put on events like a Ballerina Pie Fight – which is just what it sounds like – and a sexy show in a hair salon where people took off their clothes while getting their hair cut.
I used to live in a Buddhist nunnery, when I was a teenager. I love to do karaoke. I eat way too much spicy food. I hug trees and pat stone lions for luck. I talk to myself way too much when I’m working on a story.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 164 reviews
June 5, 2025
What a lovely novel, a real genre-buster that brings in so many elements to form a patchwork that is somehow challenging and cozy.
So much to sink your teeth into. So much I enjoyed. I loved the almost anti-worldbuilding approach Anders takes here, where the magic is intuitive, unexplained, more about feelings and instincts than anything else. It feels a lot like, well, just being a person. Trying to figure out who you are and what you want just as much as it is trying to do a spell. Magic is often a metaphor, but it's not always such a mess and I loved it.
There is also the 18th century literature of it all. I purposely did not look up all the books Anders referenced because I wanted to act as if they were all absolutely real. So imagine my surprise when nearly all of them actually are. (There is one, central novel that Anders invents.) She's done such an impressive job of creating this novel, of tying it back to many other works and events with real people, that it all feels so deep and tangible and full of research you can get lost in along with Jamie.
But what Anders does best here is dive all the way into the messy relationships at the core of the novel. Between Jamie and her mother Serena. Between Jamie and her partner Ro. Between Serena and her wife Mae. None of these relationships are simple. They involve conflicts and secrets and struggle. They are also fun and sexy and comforting. Love stories are all well and good, but I am a sucker for a story about people who don't know if they are falling out of love, who are struggling to figure out if love is worth saving. These are not questions with easy answers. And these are not characters facing straightforward decisions. Jamie is pulled between Serena and Ro, a mother she feels obligated to care for and a partner who is a safe and reliable refuge. Why would Jamie jeopardize her incredibly wholesome relationship to help a mother who may not deserve her help? Why can't she stop herself? And does that mean that her relationship isn't as healthy as it seems? The flashbacks to Serena and Mae, Jamie's parents, help us see how Serena got to be who she is and explain more about who Jamie is, too. Ultimately this is actually, despite all the other genres involved, a coming of age novel.
A heavily queer cast (maybe a straight character popped up here and there? who's to say), this book felt really rooted in reality for being a fantasy novel. I felt like these were people I knew, people I see in real life.
I'm not much of a Fantasy reader, but I think this is a book that could work for readers of many different genres. Hand it to any queer nerd, and you'll have a happy reader.
So much to sink your teeth into. So much I enjoyed. I loved the almost anti-worldbuilding approach Anders takes here, where the magic is intuitive, unexplained, more about feelings and instincts than anything else. It feels a lot like, well, just being a person. Trying to figure out who you are and what you want just as much as it is trying to do a spell. Magic is often a metaphor, but it's not always such a mess and I loved it.
There is also the 18th century literature of it all. I purposely did not look up all the books Anders referenced because I wanted to act as if they were all absolutely real. So imagine my surprise when nearly all of them actually are. (There is one, central novel that Anders invents.) She's done such an impressive job of creating this novel, of tying it back to many other works and events with real people, that it all feels so deep and tangible and full of research you can get lost in along with Jamie.
But what Anders does best here is dive all the way into the messy relationships at the core of the novel. Between Jamie and her mother Serena. Between Jamie and her partner Ro. Between Serena and her wife Mae. None of these relationships are simple. They involve conflicts and secrets and struggle. They are also fun and sexy and comforting. Love stories are all well and good, but I am a sucker for a story about people who don't know if they are falling out of love, who are struggling to figure out if love is worth saving. These are not questions with easy answers. And these are not characters facing straightforward decisions. Jamie is pulled between Serena and Ro, a mother she feels obligated to care for and a partner who is a safe and reliable refuge. Why would Jamie jeopardize her incredibly wholesome relationship to help a mother who may not deserve her help? Why can't she stop herself? And does that mean that her relationship isn't as healthy as it seems? The flashbacks to Serena and Mae, Jamie's parents, help us see how Serena got to be who she is and explain more about who Jamie is, too. Ultimately this is actually, despite all the other genres involved, a coming of age novel.
A heavily queer cast (maybe a straight character popped up here and there? who's to say), this book felt really rooted in reality for being a fantasy novel. I felt like these were people I knew, people I see in real life.
I'm not much of a Fantasy reader, but I think this is a book that could work for readers of many different genres. Hand it to any queer nerd, and you'll have a happy reader.
December 27, 2024
eARC
I have so many thoughts about this book, I don't know where to begin.
The main character of Jamie is so vibrant and human, silly and warm, anxious and relatable. It's hard to separate her from the author, or her smart, insightful non-binary partner Ro from the author's smart, insightful non-binary partner. Because of this, the book feels like Charlie Jane Anders's most personal work.
It's easy to fall into the trap that this is a simple book, but it isn't. The author deftly balances two POVs, actual historical works, and fictional historical works, along with a magic system that truly feels real. And then there's the sense that every character has facets and layers that make them ultimately unknowable, which is...what actual people are: complex and unpredictable.
I haven't even touched on the grief, tension, and real-life horror that the book is saturated in. (Gavin can go jump off of a cliff.) There was a part where I felt sick with a combination of anxiety and anger for these characters.
Anders does a great job balancing so much here while creating a readable book that feels as magical as it does real.
I have so many thoughts about this book, I don't know where to begin.
The main character of Jamie is so vibrant and human, silly and warm, anxious and relatable. It's hard to separate her from the author, or her smart, insightful non-binary partner Ro from the author's smart, insightful non-binary partner. Because of this, the book feels like Charlie Jane Anders's most personal work.
It's easy to fall into the trap that this is a simple book, but it isn't. The author deftly balances two POVs, actual historical works, and fictional historical works, along with a magic system that truly feels real. And then there's the sense that every character has facets and layers that make them ultimately unknowable, which is...what actual people are: complex and unpredictable.
I haven't even touched on the grief, tension, and real-life horror that the book is saturated in. (Gavin can go jump off of a cliff.) There was a part where I felt sick with a combination of anxiety and anger for these characters.
Anders does a great job balancing so much here while creating a readable book that feels as magical as it does real.
September 16, 2025
4.5 stars
I loved this! Told in dual timelines this is a family drama about navigating relationships more than anything else. The magic use is only lightly on display and in that sense incidental to the main story rather than central, but it is the catalysing element that brings parent and child together as they navigate grief, anger, insecurity, and most of all the ties of love that bind them together.
It’s similar to the novel Practical Magic (not the film!) but definitely grittier and a whole lot more queer. It might be too frank for some people, but the frankness is part of what makes this book so wholly genuine in its obvious wish for a more peaceful and tolerant world.
On a personal note, I’m glad Anders wrote this book. It has some timely and important things to say, and there were parts that spoke to me as the parent of a trans person, putting into words some of the fears I have about what they will have to face in the future.
”Giving” someone “space” sounds like a gentle process, a forbearance. You are bestowing a gift of your absence, yet staying available in case you're suddenly needed or wanted.
The actual process of leaving a loved one to their own devices for an indefinite period is a violent struggle against habit. You cannot resist all of your deepest-seated impulses that clamor for you to reach out to the one who always made sense of a host of nightmares, and you don't want to excise your favorite human from your life completely, for fear this separation might become permanent.
I loved this! Told in dual timelines this is a family drama about navigating relationships more than anything else. The magic use is only lightly on display and in that sense incidental to the main story rather than central, but it is the catalysing element that brings parent and child together as they navigate grief, anger, insecurity, and most of all the ties of love that bind them together.
It’s similar to the novel Practical Magic (not the film!) but definitely grittier and a whole lot more queer. It might be too frank for some people, but the frankness is part of what makes this book so wholly genuine in its obvious wish for a more peaceful and tolerant world.
On a personal note, I’m glad Anders wrote this book. It has some timely and important things to say, and there were parts that spoke to me as the parent of a trans person, putting into words some of the fears I have about what they will have to face in the future.
”Giving” someone “space” sounds like a gentle process, a forbearance. You are bestowing a gift of your absence, yet staying available in case you're suddenly needed or wanted.
The actual process of leaving a loved one to their own devices for an indefinite period is a violent struggle against habit. You cannot resist all of your deepest-seated impulses that clamor for you to reach out to the one who always made sense of a host of nightmares, and you don't want to excise your favorite human from your life completely, for fear this separation might become permanent.
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February 27, 2025Charlie Jane Anders on the book...
"Also, Lessons in Magic and Disaster is the gayest thing I’ve ever written. Pretty much all of the characters are queer, and it traces the fight for LGBTQIA+ liberation from the 1730s to the 1990s to the present. There are protests against gay-bashing and transphobia. We see the trans and queer community coming together to shelter and uplift vulnerable people. It’s joyously, defiantly queer in a way that feels like a bigger deal now than when I wrote it.
At the same time, I’ve had a lot of conversations about how this really feels like the kind of gentle, friendly book that your mom’s book club could absolutely enjoy"
https://buttondown.com/charliejane/ar...
"Also, Lessons in Magic and Disaster is the gayest thing I’ve ever written. Pretty much all of the characters are queer, and it traces the fight for LGBTQIA+ liberation from the 1730s to the 1990s to the present. There are protests against gay-bashing and transphobia. We see the trans and queer community coming together to shelter and uplift vulnerable people. It’s joyously, defiantly queer in a way that feels like a bigger deal now than when I wrote it.
At the same time, I’ve had a lot of conversations about how this really feels like the kind of gentle, friendly book that your mom’s book club could absolutely enjoy"
https://buttondown.com/charliejane/ar...
August 20, 2025
Unexpectedly healing and wholesome, Lessons in Magic and Disaster is queer, witchy, and compassionate in just the right amounts. Anders manages to acknowledge the effects of intergenerational trauma while at the same time holding characters to account for their individual bullshit. I received an eARC from NetGalley and Tor in exchange for a review.
Jamie is a graduate student writing her thesis on a fictional novel (Emily) by a real eighteenth-century novelist (Sarah Fielding). She’s also trans and, technically, a witch—though that last label becoming more identity than hobby is a concern of hers throughout the book. In any case, Jamie decides to teach her mother, Serena, the rudiments of magic. She hopes this can help Serena, who has been mired in grief over the death of her partner and Jamie’s other mother, Mae, for years. Jamie is successful—maybe too successful—and even as this newfound craft brings mother and daughter closer together, it starts to wreak havoc on Jamie’s own romantic life. Meanwhile, budget cuts at her college and a transphobic activist both threaten to throw her academic life into disarray. Jamie’s not having a good year … how much of it is her own doing?
I really enjoyed the pacing of this book. Anders keeps the plot moving and has enough mysteries in the air to sustain interest. Just as I’m getting bored with Jamie/Serena, there’s Jamie/Ro drama, literary sleuthing drama, or a flashback chapter to Serena/Mae/kid Jamie. (Indeed, these flashbacks are dope in their own right, and I would welcome a prequel novel or novella about Serena and Mae, kind of like Concrete Rose , should Anders ever deign to write it.) All of these subplots and relationships are important and interesting in their own right, and Anders synthesizes them into an important and interesting novel.
Jamie and Serena’s tumultuous relationship looks like it’s the backbone of the story with the way Anders introduces it right off the hop. However, I would argue that Jamie and Ro are more significant. Her mother is an important part of her life, yet her relationship with Ro is (as Jamie herself notes) a significant source of stability. When Jamie’s magic use creates problems, it upends Jamie’s entire life. I really like how Anders models an affirming, enthusiastic relationship that includes some kinky sex and then shows how even these relationships can run aground if one or both partners makes mistakes. Jamie is far from a bad person, yet Ro’s objections to her behaviour are totally valid. Watching the two of them work out these issues is painful and uncomfortable yet so necessary.
Jamie’s own mistakes, especially regarding Ro, are the heart of this book and the most important conflict—far more so than anything McAllister Bushwick can conjure up. But I’m not surprised either. Jamie’s transness is an important and fundamental part of her character, yet it isn’t that important to the plot. Lessons in Magic and Disaster is notable in this way for featuring a trans protagonist who has happily transitioned, experiences some transphobia, yet for whom transition and being trans is not the focus of the story. Similarly, the fact that Jamie can fuck up in these little yet big (from her point of view) ways is important too; trans protagonists deserve to be just as flawed and messy as cis protagonists. Finally, I just want to note that I really love how Anders deals with talking about pretransition Jamie in the flashback chapters (by censoring Jamie’s deadname, similar to how eighteenth-century novelists would, and always using she/her pronouns retroactively). Maybe it isn’t surprising that Anders, as a trans woman, would approach this matter sensitively, yet I still want to laud it as much as I would a cis author doing so.
I also really like how Anders portrays magic in this book. Just as Jamie finds herself drawn to liminal spaces to perform spells, magic itself is a liminal creature herein. I can’t speak for readers who actually believe in or practise magic themselves, but as a naïve reader it feels like a respectful way to explore ideas around magic use without committing too hard to depicting any actual systems or rituals of magic. This freedom allows Anders instead to explore its connections to relationality overall.
The same goes for the fictional novel she has conjured up—again, I would love to read the full text of Emily if Anders ever wanted to write it! Reading about Jamie’s intense, sometimes dramatic search for information about Sarah and Jane and this novel stoked my latent love of classical English literature (though I must confess I am more of an early nineteenth-century lass myself: George Eliot foreva!). Although I never seriously entertained a career in academia, had I pursued one, perhaps I would be like Jamie in my zeal. Her obsession not just with Emily but with learning more about Sarah and Jane’s world and how women of their time experienced it is nothing short of infectious.
Above all else, though, what will stick with me from this novel is just how doggedly Anders pursues the idea of dealing with trauma. She accurately captures how trauma comes at us from various angles and sources. Some if it is passed down from parent to child, as we see through the flashbacks where Serena and Mae’s struggles imprint themselves on Jamie. Some of it comes to us from social forces, like transphobia and other oppression. Some of it comes from the consequences of our own mistakes. In this novel, Anders makes it clear that everyone should be accountable for those mistakes—Jamie in particular, but Serena also—yet, in the same vein, those mistakes do not render you unlovable, unworthy. It’s this compassion, so deeply baked into every sentence and paragraph, that makes this novel truly memorable. So many of us queer folx carry a lot of trauma, and even those of us lucky enough to escape a lot of personal traumatic experiences are part of a wider collective of trauma stretching back across decades of oppression and hatred. Anders needles around the edges of these ideas, both in the flashback chapters and in Jamie’s own encounters with transphobes and right-wing zealots (I loved and simultaneously despised the nihilistic gleefulness of Gavin … too real, Charlie Jane, too real). I didn’t expect the inclusion of these ideas to hit me as hard as it did, yet in retrospect, I am so grateful she explores them.
Lessons in Magic and Disaster is a complex and careful book full of interlocking ideas and credible characters. I’ve vacillated on whether to rate it four stars or five. Maybe I’m being too harsh by going with four stars, so I hope you don’t take that as a sign that this book is in any way wanting. If anything about its description or my review has you nodding along and interested, you owe it to yourself to read this book.
Originally posted on Kara.Reviews.
Jamie is a graduate student writing her thesis on a fictional novel (Emily) by a real eighteenth-century novelist (Sarah Fielding). She’s also trans and, technically, a witch—though that last label becoming more identity than hobby is a concern of hers throughout the book. In any case, Jamie decides to teach her mother, Serena, the rudiments of magic. She hopes this can help Serena, who has been mired in grief over the death of her partner and Jamie’s other mother, Mae, for years. Jamie is successful—maybe too successful—and even as this newfound craft brings mother and daughter closer together, it starts to wreak havoc on Jamie’s own romantic life. Meanwhile, budget cuts at her college and a transphobic activist both threaten to throw her academic life into disarray. Jamie’s not having a good year … how much of it is her own doing?
I really enjoyed the pacing of this book. Anders keeps the plot moving and has enough mysteries in the air to sustain interest. Just as I’m getting bored with Jamie/Serena, there’s Jamie/Ro drama, literary sleuthing drama, or a flashback chapter to Serena/Mae/kid Jamie. (Indeed, these flashbacks are dope in their own right, and I would welcome a prequel novel or novella about Serena and Mae, kind of like Concrete Rose , should Anders ever deign to write it.) All of these subplots and relationships are important and interesting in their own right, and Anders synthesizes them into an important and interesting novel.
Jamie and Serena’s tumultuous relationship looks like it’s the backbone of the story with the way Anders introduces it right off the hop. However, I would argue that Jamie and Ro are more significant. Her mother is an important part of her life, yet her relationship with Ro is (as Jamie herself notes) a significant source of stability. When Jamie’s magic use creates problems, it upends Jamie’s entire life. I really like how Anders models an affirming, enthusiastic relationship that includes some kinky sex and then shows how even these relationships can run aground if one or both partners makes mistakes. Jamie is far from a bad person, yet Ro’s objections to her behaviour are totally valid. Watching the two of them work out these issues is painful and uncomfortable yet so necessary.
Jamie’s own mistakes, especially regarding Ro, are the heart of this book and the most important conflict—far more so than anything McAllister Bushwick can conjure up. But I’m not surprised either. Jamie’s transness is an important and fundamental part of her character, yet it isn’t that important to the plot. Lessons in Magic and Disaster is notable in this way for featuring a trans protagonist who has happily transitioned, experiences some transphobia, yet for whom transition and being trans is not the focus of the story. Similarly, the fact that Jamie can fuck up in these little yet big (from her point of view) ways is important too; trans protagonists deserve to be just as flawed and messy as cis protagonists. Finally, I just want to note that I really love how Anders deals with talking about pretransition Jamie in the flashback chapters (by censoring Jamie’s deadname, similar to how eighteenth-century novelists would, and always using she/her pronouns retroactively). Maybe it isn’t surprising that Anders, as a trans woman, would approach this matter sensitively, yet I still want to laud it as much as I would a cis author doing so.
I also really like how Anders portrays magic in this book. Just as Jamie finds herself drawn to liminal spaces to perform spells, magic itself is a liminal creature herein. I can’t speak for readers who actually believe in or practise magic themselves, but as a naïve reader it feels like a respectful way to explore ideas around magic use without committing too hard to depicting any actual systems or rituals of magic. This freedom allows Anders instead to explore its connections to relationality overall.
The same goes for the fictional novel she has conjured up—again, I would love to read the full text of Emily if Anders ever wanted to write it! Reading about Jamie’s intense, sometimes dramatic search for information about Sarah and Jane and this novel stoked my latent love of classical English literature (though I must confess I am more of an early nineteenth-century lass myself: George Eliot foreva!). Although I never seriously entertained a career in academia, had I pursued one, perhaps I would be like Jamie in my zeal. Her obsession not just with Emily but with learning more about Sarah and Jane’s world and how women of their time experienced it is nothing short of infectious.
Above all else, though, what will stick with me from this novel is just how doggedly Anders pursues the idea of dealing with trauma. She accurately captures how trauma comes at us from various angles and sources. Some if it is passed down from parent to child, as we see through the flashbacks where Serena and Mae’s struggles imprint themselves on Jamie. Some of it comes to us from social forces, like transphobia and other oppression. Some of it comes from the consequences of our own mistakes. In this novel, Anders makes it clear that everyone should be accountable for those mistakes—Jamie in particular, but Serena also—yet, in the same vein, those mistakes do not render you unlovable, unworthy. It’s this compassion, so deeply baked into every sentence and paragraph, that makes this novel truly memorable. So many of us queer folx carry a lot of trauma, and even those of us lucky enough to escape a lot of personal traumatic experiences are part of a wider collective of trauma stretching back across decades of oppression and hatred. Anders needles around the edges of these ideas, both in the flashback chapters and in Jamie’s own encounters with transphobes and right-wing zealots (I loved and simultaneously despised the nihilistic gleefulness of Gavin … too real, Charlie Jane, too real). I didn’t expect the inclusion of these ideas to hit me as hard as it did, yet in retrospect, I am so grateful she explores them.
Lessons in Magic and Disaster is a complex and careful book full of interlocking ideas and credible characters. I’ve vacillated on whether to rate it four stars or five. Maybe I’m being too harsh by going with four stars, so I hope you don’t take that as a sign that this book is in any way wanting. If anything about its description or my review has you nodding along and interested, you owe it to yourself to read this book.
Originally posted on Kara.Reviews.
September 6, 2025
Somehow I was first in line when my library finally got this so I read it quickly as I could so others could discover its joys :D
With the Alice Hoffman comp I thought this was going to be fluffy and cozy but its very much rooted in the here and now with all of the vitriol of right wing media, and the endless commodification of higher education, housing etc. All that PLUS....loving, messy queer marriages and family, AND "forgotten" women authors of 18th century britian, AND the kind of magic being practiced today by your witchy friends and neighbours. It's a lot to pull together! Early on I wasn't sure if it was going to work for me, but I decided to just relax and open my self up to the story Anders wanted to tell. And I was easily swayed by Ander's characters with all of their honesty, soul searching and loving kindness.
I think this will appeal to a lot of different readers: fans of historical fiction and classics, low fantasy, cozy fantasy and queer lit fic.
With the Alice Hoffman comp I thought this was going to be fluffy and cozy but its very much rooted in the here and now with all of the vitriol of right wing media, and the endless commodification of higher education, housing etc. All that PLUS....loving, messy queer marriages and family, AND "forgotten" women authors of 18th century britian, AND the kind of magic being practiced today by your witchy friends and neighbours. It's a lot to pull together! Early on I wasn't sure if it was going to work for me, but I decided to just relax and open my self up to the story Anders wanted to tell. And I was easily swayed by Ander's characters with all of their honesty, soul searching and loving kindness.
I think this will appeal to a lot of different readers: fans of historical fiction and classics, low fantasy, cozy fantasy and queer lit fic.
September 9, 2025
This book is kind of an enigma, because it's both very me (queer, Boston, academia, multiple timelines and vaguely multimedia), and contains some of my biggest pet peeves (intensely situated in the current moment, and intensely therapized). I did enjoy the first half more than the second--in which I spent a lot of time thinking that no one in the history of relationships has ever reacted this way to their marriage possibly ending--but overall, I still really liked it. I found Jamie's struggles with her grieving mother very relatable, and I'm a sucker for a character with a niche and obsessive academic interest, as well as for characters who talk like they've swallowed several textbooks. (Your mileage may vary in regards to how pretentious you find this.)
If you read for escapism, give this a pass, but if you want some nerdy, queer, high-stakes but somehow still comforting witchcraft, give it a try.
If you read for escapism, give this a pass, but if you want some nerdy, queer, high-stakes but somehow still comforting witchcraft, give it a try.
August 31, 2025
I think this is one that a lot of people are going to love, it unfortunately just didn't quite work for me. This is really a book about healing, grief, trauma and compassion, and it was done very well - I just never connected with the characters, and I also struggled with the worldbuilding/magic system. i think the witchy magic felt too chaotic for the depths of this story, and it ended up overshadowing the message for me.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with a free eARC in exchange for an honest review!
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with a free eARC in exchange for an honest review!
September 9, 2025
I ended up enjoying this one quite a bit. I had gone in thinking the magical aspects were perhaps going to be a bit different than what they were, but by the end of it I enjoyed the version that we got. I really ended up loving the Serena/Mae chapters back when Jamie was a kid. Around the 100 page-ish mark, I felt like I wanted the plot and pacing to pick up a bit, and I do feel like it did just about when I needed it too, though it’s good to know going in this isn’t a fast moving plot arc and definitely more of a slower character study of this mother and daughter. I personally, couldn’t really get into the snippets of the older book that Jamie is researching; but that is absolutely a me and classics have a hard time thing that I’m still working on lol. Ro… idk, I never really connected with them as a character. I think the way they spoke would drive me bonkers in real life and while I get that what they went through was traumatic, I personally, felt like the way they reacted felt somewhat overblown. But hey, we would be very different ppl if they were a real person, so that’s just me. This was my first novel by this author, but it def won’t be my last, I found myself underlining a lot of quotes from this with really beautiful language and writing. I def rec it!
April 18, 2025
I received this book in a Goodreads Giveaway. From the description I thought it was going to be an exciting book to read. It was not!!!! I understand what the author was trying to do. It's a good concept for a plot. However the extra extra amounts of filler in the book takes away from the plot entirely. The execution of the writing was all wrong, left a complete desire for more. There seems to be more filler than actual story which bored me to death. The writing did not capture, did not keep you there, and a desire to just be done with it. Good attempt it needs honed a lot more. The main character Jamie is worried about her mother Serena. After Serena loses her life partner to death, she becomes a complete shut-in and gives up on the world to complete depression. Jamie as a last resort tries to show her the little bit of magic she has and tries to show her mom how to do it. Jamie only actually knows how to do one thing magical. Nothing else. Serena tries to do the magic alone and causes complete chaos in her life. You may have a different opinion than mine. Give it a try and see what you think.
June 12, 2025
I've long been a fan of Charlie Jane Anders' work, and this novel is exactly what I needed it to be.
Jamie is a literature grad student in the Boston/Cambridge area, working on the 18th century novel. Jamie and her mom, Serena, are both grieving the death of Serena's wife Mae. Serena's grief is devastating, and Jamie decides to teach Serena about doing magic as a way to try to bring Serena back to focusing on the present.
This... does not go well (hence the title).
The story bounces back and forth between the present, the 1990s when Serena and Mae were younger, and the 18th century works that Jamie is studying. Found family and the challenges of building community when things are hard are front and center, as it's a predominantly queer cast of characters.
Heartfelt and heart-wrenching in the best ways, this novel is about grief and belonging, recovery, healing, and love. Even when you aren't exactly perfect. It is full of messy but well-meaning people trying their best, screwing up, and figuring out how to do better and move forward, even when it hurts. *Especially* when it hurts. Because the space between surviving and living is huge, and the best way to fill it in is with people who love and accept you for you.
Because it turns out that there's no way to make grief *not* hurt, even with magic. The fact that it hurts is proof that the grief comes from love, and leaning into that love is the way to keep living.
Highly recommended, like the most comforting of hugs from a loved one at a difficult time.
Jamie is a literature grad student in the Boston/Cambridge area, working on the 18th century novel. Jamie and her mom, Serena, are both grieving the death of Serena's wife Mae. Serena's grief is devastating, and Jamie decides to teach Serena about doing magic as a way to try to bring Serena back to focusing on the present.
This... does not go well (hence the title).
The story bounces back and forth between the present, the 1990s when Serena and Mae were younger, and the 18th century works that Jamie is studying. Found family and the challenges of building community when things are hard are front and center, as it's a predominantly queer cast of characters.
Heartfelt and heart-wrenching in the best ways, this novel is about grief and belonging, recovery, healing, and love. Even when you aren't exactly perfect. It is full of messy but well-meaning people trying their best, screwing up, and figuring out how to do better and move forward, even when it hurts. *Especially* when it hurts. Because the space between surviving and living is huge, and the best way to fill it in is with people who love and accept you for you.
Because it turns out that there's no way to make grief *not* hurt, even with magic. The fact that it hurts is proof that the grief comes from love, and leaning into that love is the way to keep living.
Highly recommended, like the most comforting of hugs from a loved one at a difficult time.
Want to read
September 8, 2025Rec. by: Previous work, Rachel, and a Goodreads giveaway
September 29, 2025
short synopsis: the true enemy is the unprocessed grief within
this was such a lovely, queer as fuck, and emotional story about a graduate school student/teaching fellow and her mother trying to reconnect by sharing and doing magic, with disasterous results.
i really loved how the author never deadnamed Jamie and Jamie being trans was not the focal point of this story. This story was about love and loss, about the power of our intentions, and that change and growth can only come from within.
a bit cerebral for me (and I never really enjoy the "fake" novels/story chapter starts as much as some, but overall highly recommended especially for the Fall reading season.
Listening to this took me some time to get into, as third present felt slightly odd. The narrators were all superb though so tense issues soon became a non-issue once the story caught me up.
thank you to the publisher for the eARC & eALC; reviewed professionally for Audiofile.
this was such a lovely, queer as fuck, and emotional story about a graduate school student/teaching fellow and her mother trying to reconnect by sharing and doing magic, with disasterous results.
i really loved how the author never deadnamed Jamie and Jamie being trans was not the focal point of this story. This story was about love and loss, about the power of our intentions, and that change and growth can only come from within.
a bit cerebral for me (and I never really enjoy the "fake" novels/story chapter starts as much as some, but overall highly recommended especially for the Fall reading season.
Listening to this took me some time to get into, as third present felt slightly odd. The narrators were all superb though so tense issues soon became a non-issue once the story caught me up.
thank you to the publisher for the eARC & eALC; reviewed professionally for Audiofile.
April 6, 2025
"Lessons in Magic and Disaster" is a book that is practically tailor-made for my reading tastes; it was just about perfect in almost every way. I felt privileged to be a part of the ARC team for this beautiful, thoughtful book.
Jamie is a grad student working on her dissertation about 18th-century literature, with a focus on women writers of the time who may or may not have been queer. She's also helping out her mother, with whom she's had a fraught relationship. I was a little thrown at first by referencing her mother by her first name but it worked with their complicated relationship and the structure of the points of view.
Serena is unmoored from losing the love of her life, Mae, the glue that held their loving queer family together. Jamie tries to help her process her grief by teaching her magic. She's a trans witch, a powerful one at that, but she has always worked in secret, finding places in the wilderness between the modern and the primeval to do her workings. But her mother, filled with rage and a need for revenge, soon taps into a malevolent source as Jamie faces a targeted, transphobic harassment campaign over her work as a student teacher.
Along the way Jamie's relationship with her nonbinary partner Ro (named after Ro Laren! squee!) takes a hit as the secrets she's kept from everyone she loves come to roost.
The story is told from Jamie's point of view, then back story from Serena's point of view as she reminisces about the love story between her and Mae, then bounces into nerdy tangents from the POVs of the 18th century women writers. I liked this structure although sometimes Serena/Mae and Jamie/Ro sounded similar and the 18th century lit excerpts could be clunky to read.
This felt like a very personal book for the author and I appreciated that she really put her heart and soul into these characters. If you can only read trans characters in queernormative worlds where the stakes are low for them, this isn't the book for you. There was plenty of discrimination and misgendering, and I liked how it showed both queer folks and witches finding solidarity, community and accountability against the hate. A very relevant and essential book.
I also loved how the characters were complex people, sometimes very unlikable, but I always understood their motivations. This was an incredibly queer book but I loved how it showed queer love and queer family dynamics without being a romance. This is life after the HEA when things get messy.
This book really spoke to me personally and I saw myself in these characters. It will stay with me for a very long time and was a meaningful, impactful read for me. Reading this was therapeutic in a way, and I laughed, cried and felt touched by the nerdiness and depth of each character.
Heartfelt thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the advance review copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.
Jamie is a grad student working on her dissertation about 18th-century literature, with a focus on women writers of the time who may or may not have been queer. She's also helping out her mother, with whom she's had a fraught relationship. I was a little thrown at first by referencing her mother by her first name but it worked with their complicated relationship and the structure of the points of view.
Serena is unmoored from losing the love of her life, Mae, the glue that held their loving queer family together. Jamie tries to help her process her grief by teaching her magic. She's a trans witch, a powerful one at that, but she has always worked in secret, finding places in the wilderness between the modern and the primeval to do her workings. But her mother, filled with rage and a need for revenge, soon taps into a malevolent source as Jamie faces a targeted, transphobic harassment campaign over her work as a student teacher.
Along the way Jamie's relationship with her nonbinary partner Ro (named after Ro Laren! squee!) takes a hit as the secrets she's kept from everyone she loves come to roost.
The story is told from Jamie's point of view, then back story from Serena's point of view as she reminisces about the love story between her and Mae, then bounces into nerdy tangents from the POVs of the 18th century women writers. I liked this structure although sometimes Serena/Mae and Jamie/Ro sounded similar and the 18th century lit excerpts could be clunky to read.
This felt like a very personal book for the author and I appreciated that she really put her heart and soul into these characters. If you can only read trans characters in queernormative worlds where the stakes are low for them, this isn't the book for you. There was plenty of discrimination and misgendering, and I liked how it showed both queer folks and witches finding solidarity, community and accountability against the hate. A very relevant and essential book.
I also loved how the characters were complex people, sometimes very unlikable, but I always understood their motivations. This was an incredibly queer book but I loved how it showed queer love and queer family dynamics without being a romance. This is life after the HEA when things get messy.
This book really spoke to me personally and I saw myself in these characters. It will stay with me for a very long time and was a meaningful, impactful read for me. Reading this was therapeutic in a way, and I laughed, cried and felt touched by the nerdiness and depth of each character.
Heartfelt thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the advance review copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.
September 8, 2025
I had the pleasure of meeting Charlie Jane last week to talk about her amazing new book, which is like a warm hug and an ode to connection. It’s marginally about magic and witches, but that’s just a springboard for her very intelligent and witty characters - representing every letter of the LGBTQIA+ alphabet- to play.
July 19, 2025
Got an arc from work
So I’ve only read one book by CJA that wasn’t for me in a way that was entirely not the book’s fault. This one sounded interesting though so when an arc came in I picked it up, and while it does deal with some stuff that gives me the heebie jeebies (I don’t do well with Cancer storylines but this was only detailed in one chapter) I can honestly say I thoroughly enjoyed this!
It’s clear there’s a reason Anders sweeps at award shows, she has a great narrative voice that makes you feel like you’re listening to a fairy tale and also catching up with an old friend over coffee and I love that! This one is funny and bittersweet and so delightfully queer and I’m really glad that I gave it a chance.
It’s also very much a love letter to books and storytelling. I took a class on 18th century British novels in college and while I still maintain that Moll Flanders gave me adhd, this book made me feel so smart because I’d read the books being talked about and understood the references being made in a way that really added to the story!
So yeah, I enjoyed this a lot and if you’ll excuse me I need to go call my mom
So I’ve only read one book by CJA that wasn’t for me in a way that was entirely not the book’s fault. This one sounded interesting though so when an arc came in I picked it up, and while it does deal with some stuff that gives me the heebie jeebies (I don’t do well with Cancer storylines but this was only detailed in one chapter) I can honestly say I thoroughly enjoyed this!
It’s clear there’s a reason Anders sweeps at award shows, she has a great narrative voice that makes you feel like you’re listening to a fairy tale and also catching up with an old friend over coffee and I love that! This one is funny and bittersweet and so delightfully queer and I’m really glad that I gave it a chance.
It’s also very much a love letter to books and storytelling. I took a class on 18th century British novels in college and while I still maintain that Moll Flanders gave me adhd, this book made me feel so smart because I’d read the books being talked about and understood the references being made in a way that really added to the story!
So yeah, I enjoyed this a lot and if you’ll excuse me I need to go call my mom
July 11, 2025
Lessons in Magic and Disaster is a novel about a trans witch who teaches her mother magic, only to find that magic might not always be the answer. Jamie is a trans woman, graduate student, and a witch, and she wants to do something to get her mother, Serena, back out into the world, as Serena's been hiding away since the death of her wife. Jamie teaches her mother the magic she's been using for years, all about exchanging something for what you most want, but Serena finds this magic a powerful force, and suddenly all elements of Jamie's life are affected: her relationship with her mother, her marriage to Ro, her reputation at the college she works at.
I was drawn to this novel as I wanted to read a book by Charlie Jane Anders, and even though I'm not a huge fantasy person unless the fantasy is combined with more literary or general fiction, the selling point of the book being about a trans woman witch was enough for me to give it a go. Conveniently for me, Lessons in Magic and Disaster is not just a story about magic, and it is the kind of fantasy that is set in the real world except a few people can do magic, which is what I was hoping for.
The book is told both in the present day from Jamie's perspective, and also in the past telling the story of her mothers, Serena and Mae. The present day narrative explores the magic side, and also Jamie's research into a (fictional) eighteenth century novel and what it says about the real life historical women involved in it, whilst the story of Jamie's mothers is more around queer community, sacrifice, and what makes a relationship. Sometimes this structure, particularly the chunks from the fictional eighteenth century novel and a fairytale story within its narrative, makes the book feel a bit slow-going, as it takes a while to get to the next bit of a plotline. However, the layered approach allows there to be a lot of things in conversation with each other.
The characters are flawed and messy, though I think some of the moral dilemmas and questions could've been more deeply explored as there's some interesting stuff around trust and sacrifice and coping with things that gets reduced to characters taking in a "therapy-speak" style. There's an online abuse/cancel culture plotline that again doesn't quite get enough space to have nuance, and Jamie's academic work (both research and her teaching/position at the college) always felt a bit pushed to the side even though there were so many chunks of the fake novel. I did like a lot of the character relationships, including Jamie and Ro's marriage that hits tension when Ro finds out about the magic, and what we see of Jamie's relationship with her dead mother, Mae.
Overall, I like how ambitious this novel is in combining the magic side with a tale of eighteenth century writer women and a look at queer community, whilst at its heart, having a story about a trans women and her relationships with other people in her life. At times I found it a bit slow and frustrating, but I found the ending powerful in terms of the character relationships and I think this book will be great for fans of queer fantasy with a literary edge.
I was drawn to this novel as I wanted to read a book by Charlie Jane Anders, and even though I'm not a huge fantasy person unless the fantasy is combined with more literary or general fiction, the selling point of the book being about a trans woman witch was enough for me to give it a go. Conveniently for me, Lessons in Magic and Disaster is not just a story about magic, and it is the kind of fantasy that is set in the real world except a few people can do magic, which is what I was hoping for.
The book is told both in the present day from Jamie's perspective, and also in the past telling the story of her mothers, Serena and Mae. The present day narrative explores the magic side, and also Jamie's research into a (fictional) eighteenth century novel and what it says about the real life historical women involved in it, whilst the story of Jamie's mothers is more around queer community, sacrifice, and what makes a relationship. Sometimes this structure, particularly the chunks from the fictional eighteenth century novel and a fairytale story within its narrative, makes the book feel a bit slow-going, as it takes a while to get to the next bit of a plotline. However, the layered approach allows there to be a lot of things in conversation with each other.
The characters are flawed and messy, though I think some of the moral dilemmas and questions could've been more deeply explored as there's some interesting stuff around trust and sacrifice and coping with things that gets reduced to characters taking in a "therapy-speak" style. There's an online abuse/cancel culture plotline that again doesn't quite get enough space to have nuance, and Jamie's academic work (both research and her teaching/position at the college) always felt a bit pushed to the side even though there were so many chunks of the fake novel. I did like a lot of the character relationships, including Jamie and Ro's marriage that hits tension when Ro finds out about the magic, and what we see of Jamie's relationship with her dead mother, Mae.
Overall, I like how ambitious this novel is in combining the magic side with a tale of eighteenth century writer women and a look at queer community, whilst at its heart, having a story about a trans women and her relationships with other people in her life. At times I found it a bit slow and frustrating, but I found the ending powerful in terms of the character relationships and I think this book will be great for fans of queer fantasy with a literary edge.
July 28, 2025
Unfortunately, this writing style just isn’t for me and I had to stop reading it about 10% in. There is a lot of inner monologue and not a lot of dialogue. It felt like it jumped all over the place. And while I appreciate the concept of magic as something you do but don’t think about, working the first two chapters, this is said about a dozen times and it just became too repetitive for me. It became a show me, don’t tell me situation.
Thank you to NetGalley and Tor Publishing for this ARC!
Thank you to NetGalley and Tor Publishing for this ARC!
June 12, 2025
Finally giving up on this after 200 pages of nothing happening. 200 pages of the MC just… thinking about things. It’s boring and patronizing and insufferably White Queer. It does, however, make me feel good about my decision to leave Boston.
September 25, 2025
I was so intrigued by Jamie's dissertation research which was based almost entirely on real 18th century authors and works of literature, aside from one fictional novel and imaginary correspondence (as detailed in the Historical Note). I loved the magical realism and the queer interpretation of these people and stories; it really felt like something that could be true.
The magic is unpredictable and questionable in effect; Jamie is often uncertain whether events are a result of her spells or a coincidence, though she proposes that a good spell is one where you're never sure if it worked. She is wary of even saying the word "magic" as though a mention might make it cease to exist. Jamie's approach to magic feels antithetical to what Serena hopes to accomplish, wherein lies the predicament.
A major theme of this novel is generational trauma, and the dual timelines highlight the struggles of the queer community who came of age in the 90s and how that trauma affected Jamie's upbringing. Outside of their queer community, the world is not queer-normative and both Jamie and her parents deal with discrimination and hate.
There is also an exploration of what we owe to one another. Despite Jamie's rocky relationship with Serena, she feels obligated to reach out a hand, to rescue her mother from grief—even if that means putting her relationship with her nonbinary partner Ro at risk. Ultimately, poignantly, this is a story about love and forgiveness. That no matter how badly we mess up, we will always be loved.
It feels important to point out that this is a white queer story; the focus is on the queer and trans experiences of white characters. I also felt like some characters felt a bit flat; I didn't get a lot from Ro specifically and the character voices could have been more differentiated. I didn't fall in love with this story, but I found value in it and recommend it to those looking for something a bit therapeutic in nature.
Thank you Tor Books for the advance copy!
The magic is unpredictable and questionable in effect; Jamie is often uncertain whether events are a result of her spells or a coincidence, though she proposes that a good spell is one where you're never sure if it worked. She is wary of even saying the word "magic" as though a mention might make it cease to exist. Jamie's approach to magic feels antithetical to what Serena hopes to accomplish, wherein lies the predicament.
A major theme of this novel is generational trauma, and the dual timelines highlight the struggles of the queer community who came of age in the 90s and how that trauma affected Jamie's upbringing. Outside of their queer community, the world is not queer-normative and both Jamie and her parents deal with discrimination and hate.
There is also an exploration of what we owe to one another. Despite Jamie's rocky relationship with Serena, she feels obligated to reach out a hand, to rescue her mother from grief—even if that means putting her relationship with her nonbinary partner Ro at risk. Ultimately, poignantly, this is a story about love and forgiveness. That no matter how badly we mess up, we will always be loved.
It feels important to point out that this is a white queer story; the focus is on the queer and trans experiences of white characters. I also felt like some characters felt a bit flat; I didn't get a lot from Ro specifically and the character voices could have been more differentiated. I didn't fall in love with this story, but I found value in it and recommend it to those looking for something a bit therapeutic in nature.
Thank you Tor Books for the advance copy!
August 25, 2025
Charlie Jane Anders has a unique talent for blending messy human relationships and wild nature-based spells, and I loved untangling the clever thoughts and big emotions of this book. While the blurb is about a young witch teaching her mother magic, the story ambles in all sorts of directions: protagonist Jamie sets out to re-connect with her mom and to finish her dissertation, but along the way she finds herself confronting deep grief, aggressive transphobia, and academic perils, culminating in the threat of losing everyone she holds dear.
Though the characters deal with some heavy content, I found the overall tone of the writing was hopeful and light; I have a fondness for nerdy lit weirdos, and Jamie’s voice was so fun and sensorily evocative, whether she was discussing mysteries from eighteenth-century novels or describing spells gone catastrophically wrong. The magic system was also fascinating to me, focusing on forgotten places and intention and reclamation, and I loved that Jamie and her mom Serena figured things out together without ever really knowing any of the rules.
Overall, this book took me on an emotional journey, and I was very moved by the bittersweetness of the central queer relationships and all the mistakes and acts of forgiveness that wove their ways through the narrative. “Lessons in Magic and Disaster” is a complex and thoughtful novel with literary and fantasy elements, and I loved spending time in its world.
4.25 stars
Thanks to Tor Books and NetGalley for providing me with an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review!
Though the characters deal with some heavy content, I found the overall tone of the writing was hopeful and light; I have a fondness for nerdy lit weirdos, and Jamie’s voice was so fun and sensorily evocative, whether she was discussing mysteries from eighteenth-century novels or describing spells gone catastrophically wrong. The magic system was also fascinating to me, focusing on forgotten places and intention and reclamation, and I loved that Jamie and her mom Serena figured things out together without ever really knowing any of the rules.
Overall, this book took me on an emotional journey, and I was very moved by the bittersweetness of the central queer relationships and all the mistakes and acts of forgiveness that wove their ways through the narrative. “Lessons in Magic and Disaster” is a complex and thoughtful novel with literary and fantasy elements, and I loved spending time in its world.
4.25 stars
Thanks to Tor Books and NetGalley for providing me with an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review!
September 13, 2025
Serena has spent six years mourning the death of her partner Mae, so Serena's daughter Jamie decides to share her biggest secret with her mother – how to do magic. Jamie teaches Serena a few 'makings', and it backfires – Serena is an apt pupil and does things Jamie never knew could be done, with dire consequences.
The magic is a metaphor for taking agency and making change in the world, either for good or ill. Anders explores the relationships of queer people, both their biological families and romantic relationships. Serena and Mae's relationship is counterpoised to that of Jamie and her partner Ro.
These are queer people, and the book is largely about the ways that queer people (mainly lesbians and transgendered) have to survive in a heteronormative world that is either hostile or at best indifferent to their relationships. There's a lot of dialogue between partners, examining and querying their real intentions and desires. There's a lot of reactions – how one person's actions were viewed by the other, and how they responded emotionally.
This is a topic close to Charlie Jane Anders's heart, clearly. But that should be no surprise to anyone familiar with this author's work. Her work centers queer people and their place in the world, and looks at how they can better survive. In a country where the official policy now seems to deny the very existence of some of them, it's a timely book.
The magic is a metaphor for taking agency and making change in the world, either for good or ill. Anders explores the relationships of queer people, both their biological families and romantic relationships. Serena and Mae's relationship is counterpoised to that of Jamie and her partner Ro.
These are queer people, and the book is largely about the ways that queer people (mainly lesbians and transgendered) have to survive in a heteronormative world that is either hostile or at best indifferent to their relationships. There's a lot of dialogue between partners, examining and querying their real intentions and desires. There's a lot of reactions – how one person's actions were viewed by the other, and how they responded emotionally.
This is a topic close to Charlie Jane Anders's heart, clearly. But that should be no surprise to anyone familiar with this author's work. Her work centers queer people and their place in the world, and looks at how they can better survive. In a country where the official policy now seems to deny the very existence of some of them, it's a timely book.
February 23, 2025
I was lucky enough to be part of the ARC chain and was delighted to be able to read this absolute masterpiece early. Thanks, Charlie Jane!
Lessons in Magic and Disaster is a stunning meditation on grief, boundaries, forgiveness, and love. There were so many layers to this story that I'm looking forward to rereading it again when my preorders arrive. In the present day narrative, Jamie, a PhD student in English, navigates transphobia in academia and relationship challenges with her mother and partner as she tries to write her dissertation on an obscure 18th century novel of manners. Her mother has spent the last handful of years grief stricken after the death of her wife and the dramatic cancellation of her law career. In the past, her two mothers, Serena and Mae, meet, fall in love, and start a family together. In between chapters there are charming excerpts from the novel Jamie is researching for her dissertation.
I've loved every bit of fiction written by this author, but this book in particular was so dear to my heart. As a fellow member of the tgnc and queer community I felt such appreciation for the raw vulnerability in the depictions of queer love and relationship struggles as well as transphobia and gender dysphoria. Despite some of the heart wrenching plot developments, the narrative retains an optimism that keeps the overall tone from descending into fetishising trauma. The magic system felt so familiar to me as a former weird lonely kid who spent a lot of time in my tweens hanging out in the wild wooded edges of surburbia. I absolutely adored the excerpts from the 18th century novel.
What a beautiful and timely story filled with defiance and courage! Thank you, Charlie Jane Anders!
Lessons in Magic and Disaster is a stunning meditation on grief, boundaries, forgiveness, and love. There were so many layers to this story that I'm looking forward to rereading it again when my preorders arrive. In the present day narrative, Jamie, a PhD student in English, navigates transphobia in academia and relationship challenges with her mother and partner as she tries to write her dissertation on an obscure 18th century novel of manners. Her mother has spent the last handful of years grief stricken after the death of her wife and the dramatic cancellation of her law career. In the past, her two mothers, Serena and Mae, meet, fall in love, and start a family together. In between chapters there are charming excerpts from the novel Jamie is researching for her dissertation.
I've loved every bit of fiction written by this author, but this book in particular was so dear to my heart. As a fellow member of the tgnc and queer community I felt such appreciation for the raw vulnerability in the depictions of queer love and relationship struggles as well as transphobia and gender dysphoria. Despite some of the heart wrenching plot developments, the narrative retains an optimism that keeps the overall tone from descending into fetishising trauma. The magic system felt so familiar to me as a former weird lonely kid who spent a lot of time in my tweens hanging out in the wild wooded edges of surburbia. I absolutely adored the excerpts from the 18th century novel.
What a beautiful and timely story filled with defiance and courage! Thank you, Charlie Jane Anders!
August 20, 2025
*Thanks to NetGalley and Tor Publishing Group for early copy for review*
Really enjoyed the character work and reading a literary fantasy centering queer women doing magic. The added bonus of an academic writing a dissertation examing the queerness of 18th century literature was also a delight.
I have not had the chance to read anything else by this author, but plan to check out their backlog of works.
Really enjoyed the character work and reading a literary fantasy centering queer women doing magic. The added bonus of an academic writing a dissertation examing the queerness of 18th century literature was also a delight.
I have not had the chance to read anything else by this author, but plan to check out their backlog of works.
September 18, 2025
I liked this, but the mother / daughter conflicts were a little too close to home for me, and a few of the other issues the characters faced were sometimes stressful to read. The overall tone is not depressing, though, and the characters have very real growth. I learned a lot about women writers of the 1730s-40s, too, which was something I knew almost nothing about beforehand.
September 10, 2025
I loved this book, and I especially loved that it didn't feel like any novel I've read (or read about) before. The magic was intriguing and surprising. The characters were messy in incredibly realistic ways. It's about grief and trauma and yet focuses on the healing and the hope, and the importance of community. There's a lot of academic research and intellectual "discourse", which might not be for everyone, but which I enjoyed. It was also quite funny at times - Charlie Jane Anders makes a lot of amusing observations that just ring true. I highly recommend this to anyone who enjoys thoughtful, introspective fantasy and/or queer literature.
October 12, 2025
Lessons in Magic and Disaster by Charlie Jane Anders is a layered novel about magic, family, queer community, and resistance with a trans main character. Jamie, is a trans queer academic who reconnects with her widowed mother, whose wife died of cancer years before, in the hopes that teaching her magic may bring them back together. Simultaneous to this shared discovery, Jamie's academic pursuits of a mysterious manuscript and the stories of queer feminists in history inform stories in the present. The magic explored in this novel is small magic, moments of intention and hope that the wielder hopes will result in the desired outcome; the magic itself works itself out in mysterious ways and sometimes backfires. Jamie and her mother also share a foe--a bad faith cultural critic and his minions who seek to discredit and bury queer voices in society--and they may try their hands at magic to fight for what they believe in.
"Listen," Ro says, when she's had some food. "I know you've been reconnecting with your mom, and it's been good, and you feel like you know her better. But we never really know our parents, not the way we know other people. There's a veil, or a distortion, in the way, and you can't separate the reality of them as people from the ways they shaped you. And there has to be a way you can help your mom fix her life without wrecking your own." (85)
"This was where it started: the perpetual motion machine. Kids learned from an early age to punish difference, to enforce stigma, by any means necessary. Kids like Jamie learned to spare themselves pain by hiding. That's how you ended up with assholes bombing lesbian bars and bating up queers in the street." (162)
"Jamie should 'throw herself into work,' right? That's what you do, when your personal life is a ninety-nine alarm sewage conflagration. Except, that 'throwing yourself into your work' means falling into a story about the Puritan work ethic--a story that has devoured countless people only to spit out their bones one at a time, over a long period. The rise of the English novel in the eighteenth century is inseparable from the rise of Calvinism and capitalism, which formed an unholy alliance to spread a gospel of industry and productivity (after chattel slavery and stolen land in the Americas made England rich and created a glut of resources). Calvinism focused on individual salvation, and a vision of 'stewardship' in which every person needed to work hard to improve their situation on earth--which dovetailed nicely with capitalism's new emphasis on relentless production. At the same time, capitalism gave rise to an urban petite bourgeoisie who had (some) leisure time for reading, including merchants and bureaucrats, but also apprentices, housewives, and some of the fancier household servants. This created an audience for stories about 'everyman' heroes who deal with challenges in their own lives, instead of noble-born protagonists contending with huge issues who'd starred in previous works of literature. So yeah, the novel as we know it is inseparable from the cult of hard work--even though ironically, the mid-eighteenth century also gave us the notion of reading for pleasure." (174)
"Jamie suspects capitalism is a huge part of the reason why magic is so difficult: nobody knows what they want, because we've all been brainwashed to want garbage." (174-5)
"Listen," Ro says, when she's had some food. "I know you've been reconnecting with your mom, and it's been good, and you feel like you know her better. But we never really know our parents, not the way we know other people. There's a veil, or a distortion, in the way, and you can't separate the reality of them as people from the ways they shaped you. And there has to be a way you can help your mom fix her life without wrecking your own." (85)
"This was where it started: the perpetual motion machine. Kids learned from an early age to punish difference, to enforce stigma, by any means necessary. Kids like Jamie learned to spare themselves pain by hiding. That's how you ended up with assholes bombing lesbian bars and bating up queers in the street." (162)
"Jamie should 'throw herself into work,' right? That's what you do, when your personal life is a ninety-nine alarm sewage conflagration. Except, that 'throwing yourself into your work' means falling into a story about the Puritan work ethic--a story that has devoured countless people only to spit out their bones one at a time, over a long period. The rise of the English novel in the eighteenth century is inseparable from the rise of Calvinism and capitalism, which formed an unholy alliance to spread a gospel of industry and productivity (after chattel slavery and stolen land in the Americas made England rich and created a glut of resources). Calvinism focused on individual salvation, and a vision of 'stewardship' in which every person needed to work hard to improve their situation on earth--which dovetailed nicely with capitalism's new emphasis on relentless production. At the same time, capitalism gave rise to an urban petite bourgeoisie who had (some) leisure time for reading, including merchants and bureaucrats, but also apprentices, housewives, and some of the fancier household servants. This created an audience for stories about 'everyman' heroes who deal with challenges in their own lives, instead of noble-born protagonists contending with huge issues who'd starred in previous works of literature. So yeah, the novel as we know it is inseparable from the cult of hard work--even though ironically, the mid-eighteenth century also gave us the notion of reading for pleasure." (174)
"Jamie suspects capitalism is a huge part of the reason why magic is so difficult: nobody knows what they want, because we've all been brainwashed to want garbage." (174-5)
August 3, 2025
*3.5
Lessons in Magic and Disaster follows Jamie as she sets about teaching magic to her mother, Serena. Through this process, she ends up learning a lot more about the rules and the power of their magic. It also follows Jamie’s academic and married life.
Jamie and Serena are complex and compelling characters, they feel fleshed out. The flashbacks to Serena and Mae added a lot to the story; we get to know both her and her wife, Mae, along with a young Jamie and see her grow into who she is present day.
There is very little magic throughout the book, even though it is the thing that sets up most of the conflicts. We do see the use magic and learn about it along with the characters, especially at the end; but magic is used as a device for Jamie and Serena to process their grief over losing Mae, Serena’s wife and Jamie’s mom, and to reconnect with each other.
The writing is atmospheric and richly descriptive, but it felt contrived at times with some of the lingo the author uses (e.g. the frequent use of "trolling"). The constant, and frequently long, tangents into Jamie’s dissertation felt unnecessary and could have been cut short. While interesting, they took me out of the story, and there was already a lot going on.
Lessons in Magic and Disaster follows Jamie as she sets about teaching magic to her mother, Serena. Through this process, she ends up learning a lot more about the rules and the power of their magic. It also follows Jamie’s academic and married life.
Jamie and Serena are complex and compelling characters, they feel fleshed out. The flashbacks to Serena and Mae added a lot to the story; we get to know both her and her wife, Mae, along with a young Jamie and see her grow into who she is present day.
There is very little magic throughout the book, even though it is the thing that sets up most of the conflicts. We do see the use magic and learn about it along with the characters, especially at the end; but magic is used as a device for Jamie and Serena to process their grief over losing Mae, Serena’s wife and Jamie’s mom, and to reconnect with each other.
The writing is atmospheric and richly descriptive, but it felt contrived at times with some of the lingo the author uses (e.g. the frequent use of "trolling"). The constant, and frequently long, tangents into Jamie’s dissertation felt unnecessary and could have been cut short. While interesting, they took me out of the story, and there was already a lot going on.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 15, 2025
Let me begin by saying that I love Charlie Jane Anders. I think that she is one of the greatest genre writers working today; her Unstoppable Trilogy was impossible to put down, and All the Birds in the Sky is on my shortlist of books to recommend to anyone who asks. As a writer, I often refer to her essays in Never Say You Can’t Survive. My daughter’s name was inspired by her.
Full disclosure: I received a digital Advanced Readers Copy, but I have also preordered the novel, which releases August 19th, 2025.
Anders' latest novel, Lessons in Magic and Disaster, reads like a very personal story. As a fan, I subscribe to her newsletter, have had the pleasure of corresponding with her, and am aware of her journey as a professional, as a trans person, and as a writer. This novel reads raw and autobiographical. As I was reading this ARC, there are jarring moments of language which feel out of place, like using “glorp” as an adverb, or GenX characters using GenZ idioms. I’m not sure if there’s another pass coming from the editor or if it is a stylistic choice, but the inconsistency in slang and idioms tells me that this POURED out of Charlie Jane.
Charlie Jane Anders
And it very much feels that way. Our protagonist, Jamie, is a trans woman whose narrative chapters often feel like a mashup of Bret Easton Ellis’ penchant for detail and a panic attack. Avoiding spoilers, Jamie is a person who is very introverted, very stressed about keeping her different relationships together, but also has clearly not grown up, even if she’s been forced to in more ways than one. And she can do magic.
Likewise, Serena, who is a foil to Jaime but also a key part of the narrative, has her own interspersed chapters which add a lot of depth to her past, fleshing out the person she was and juxtaposing it against the person we meet during Jamie’s narrative. The Serena chapters are a narrative breath of fresh air. Jamie’s chapters are dense, filled with a lot of inner monologue and crisis management which feels exhausting at times, but I think we are supposed to feel that way. By slowly revealing Serena's past throughout the novel, Anders does a marvelous job at showing us TRULY how far she has fallen from the person that she used to be, and why Jamie goes through the effort she does to rebuild their relationship.
I mentioned that this is obviously a personal story. Jamie is trans, but the novel is not about her finding that identity; although there is a B story of transphobic students who harass Jamie. But it is a treatise about the stress in managing relationships. It’s about over-extending your attention to one loved one at the expense of another. It talks about the consequences of choosing to keep your feelings to yourself for feat of hurting those you care for. Ultimately, it is a novel about coming to terms with honestly understanding what you want, even if you can't have it anymore.
It’s a good story. For those of us who are introverted people who get to do what we are passionate about, the story feels very familiar. For those of us who are no longer those people (Hi, it’s me), looking upon Jamie’s bohemian life feels cozy and familiar, especially if you sold out and went corporate, as so many of us Word Nerds ultimately do. The language can be jarring at times; again, I’m reviewing an ARC and so my copy may not be the novel’s Super-Saiyan ultimate form. But I think that is also okay; Jamie’s story makes the reader feel overwhelmed at times, there’s nothing wrong with it being written that way. It makes the story’s heavier, marquee, stick-with-you-forever moments hit all the harder.
Full disclosure: I received a digital Advanced Readers Copy, but I have also preordered the novel, which releases August 19th, 2025.
Anders' latest novel, Lessons in Magic and Disaster, reads like a very personal story. As a fan, I subscribe to her newsletter, have had the pleasure of corresponding with her, and am aware of her journey as a professional, as a trans person, and as a writer. This novel reads raw and autobiographical. As I was reading this ARC, there are jarring moments of language which feel out of place, like using “glorp” as an adverb, or GenX characters using GenZ idioms. I’m not sure if there’s another pass coming from the editor or if it is a stylistic choice, but the inconsistency in slang and idioms tells me that this POURED out of Charlie Jane.
Charlie Jane Anders
And it very much feels that way. Our protagonist, Jamie, is a trans woman whose narrative chapters often feel like a mashup of Bret Easton Ellis’ penchant for detail and a panic attack. Avoiding spoilers, Jamie is a person who is very introverted, very stressed about keeping her different relationships together, but also has clearly not grown up, even if she’s been forced to in more ways than one. And she can do magic.
Likewise, Serena, who is a foil to Jaime but also a key part of the narrative, has her own interspersed chapters which add a lot of depth to her past, fleshing out the person she was and juxtaposing it against the person we meet during Jamie’s narrative. The Serena chapters are a narrative breath of fresh air. Jamie’s chapters are dense, filled with a lot of inner monologue and crisis management which feels exhausting at times, but I think we are supposed to feel that way. By slowly revealing Serena's past throughout the novel, Anders does a marvelous job at showing us TRULY how far she has fallen from the person that she used to be, and why Jamie goes through the effort she does to rebuild their relationship.
I mentioned that this is obviously a personal story. Jamie is trans, but the novel is not about her finding that identity; although there is a B story of transphobic students who harass Jamie. But it is a treatise about the stress in managing relationships. It’s about over-extending your attention to one loved one at the expense of another. It talks about the consequences of choosing to keep your feelings to yourself for feat of hurting those you care for. Ultimately, it is a novel about coming to terms with honestly understanding what you want, even if you can't have it anymore.
It’s a good story. For those of us who are introverted people who get to do what we are passionate about, the story feels very familiar. For those of us who are no longer those people (Hi, it’s me), looking upon Jamie’s bohemian life feels cozy and familiar, especially if you sold out and went corporate, as so many of us Word Nerds ultimately do. The language can be jarring at times; again, I’m reviewing an ARC and so my copy may not be the novel’s Super-Saiyan ultimate form. But I think that is also okay; Jamie’s story makes the reader feel overwhelmed at times, there’s nothing wrong with it being written that way. It makes the story’s heavier, marquee, stick-with-you-forever moments hit all the harder.
August 23, 2025
Oh my gosh, what a wonderful story!
Charle Jane Anders tells great stories of magic and fantasy and families in all their loving messiness, but this is one that steps up in ways beyond genre. Yes, as titled, the story is about Jamie, who decides to teach her widowed mother how to do magic, and yes there are disasters.
But this book is about grief, how we do/don't process grief and loss, the layers of generational lessons we learn in how to share/hide our feelings, and the courage to step beyond fear and into vulnerability.
Jamie is a struggling graduate student in a relationship with Ro, and choosing to reconnect with her remaining parent, Serena. Her motives come from love and caring - and a hope that teaching her mother how to do magic will help push her mother out of a static depression that has lasted since the death of her beloved wife Mae.
The book is also interspersed with women's writings from the 1700's, Jamie's literary focus. The pieces Charlie Jane chooses (and creates) are marvelous, reflective of time and moral choices that draw a beautiful, rainbow-inflected line to the contemporary story being told.
This is a book about relationships: parent/child relationships, partner/lover relationships, person/system relationships are all important parts of this story, and Charlie Jane does a stellar job finding the moments of joy and intimacy that keep us connected to each other and the world. But these relationships are also fraught with challenges and pain, and Charlie Jane lets us grapple with these complexities along with her characters. Where and how we engage with each other, with our loves and losses and the changes in our lives all blossom in this story.
Technically, this book could be considered fantasy, as it does contain magic. I read a lot of different types of fiction including fantasy, and I have to say: the magic here is the most realistic portrayal of magic in the world that I've read. This is not a contemporary world with fairies and unicorns tossed into it - this is a contemporary world where some people practice ways to focus their intentions and hopes that may result in certain outcomes. As Jamie keeps trying to explain to her mother, magic is something to "do" not talk about and analyze. In the hands of another author, this is a story of how faith may or may not support us in times of crisis and loss. In Charlie Jane's hands, the way magic plays out is as unique as each individual who uses it or is affected by it, without dogma attached.
This is truly the first book I've ever read (and I've been reading for close to 60 years) where I truly felt "seen" in the story. Serena and Mae are my age, from my community of queer women who were making courageous, fantastical, and outrageous choices in how to live full lives with or without children. Jamie is so much the next generation of queers in my life that my heart both aches for her and bursts with pride. Charlie Jane makes me feel like the struggle is worth it. Even with the disasters along the way.
Charle Jane Anders tells great stories of magic and fantasy and families in all their loving messiness, but this is one that steps up in ways beyond genre. Yes, as titled, the story is about Jamie, who decides to teach her widowed mother how to do magic, and yes there are disasters.
But this book is about grief, how we do/don't process grief and loss, the layers of generational lessons we learn in how to share/hide our feelings, and the courage to step beyond fear and into vulnerability.
Jamie is a struggling graduate student in a relationship with Ro, and choosing to reconnect with her remaining parent, Serena. Her motives come from love and caring - and a hope that teaching her mother how to do magic will help push her mother out of a static depression that has lasted since the death of her beloved wife Mae.
The book is also interspersed with women's writings from the 1700's, Jamie's literary focus. The pieces Charlie Jane chooses (and creates) are marvelous, reflective of time and moral choices that draw a beautiful, rainbow-inflected line to the contemporary story being told.
This is a book about relationships: parent/child relationships, partner/lover relationships, person/system relationships are all important parts of this story, and Charlie Jane does a stellar job finding the moments of joy and intimacy that keep us connected to each other and the world. But these relationships are also fraught with challenges and pain, and Charlie Jane lets us grapple with these complexities along with her characters. Where and how we engage with each other, with our loves and losses and the changes in our lives all blossom in this story.
Technically, this book could be considered fantasy, as it does contain magic. I read a lot of different types of fiction including fantasy, and I have to say: the magic here is the most realistic portrayal of magic in the world that I've read. This is not a contemporary world with fairies and unicorns tossed into it - this is a contemporary world where some people practice ways to focus their intentions and hopes that may result in certain outcomes. As Jamie keeps trying to explain to her mother, magic is something to "do" not talk about and analyze. In the hands of another author, this is a story of how faith may or may not support us in times of crisis and loss. In Charlie Jane's hands, the way magic plays out is as unique as each individual who uses it or is affected by it, without dogma attached.
This is truly the first book I've ever read (and I've been reading for close to 60 years) where I truly felt "seen" in the story. Serena and Mae are my age, from my community of queer women who were making courageous, fantastical, and outrageous choices in how to live full lives with or without children. Jamie is so much the next generation of queers in my life that my heart both aches for her and bursts with pride. Charlie Jane makes me feel like the struggle is worth it. Even with the disasters along the way.
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