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Nightshade
A gorgeous, Gothic, Romany coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of the 1980s Southern Ontario tobacco belt—with a dash of magic realism.
Longing for glamour and riches and freedom, Zelda is a young woman who chafes against her Romany identity and her family's poverty. Everything changes when she’s lured away from working alongside her mother and aunts and other migrant workers in the tobacco fields and is hired as an assistant and good luck charm to the charismatic Trixie Tormentine.
What starts out as a summer of ease and access to the unfettered wealth of the Tormentines—Trixie's husband Jack owns the tobacco farm that employs Zelda's family and friends—unspools into dangerous displays of power and manipulation. One of the Romany family's puppets, grandmother Puri Dai, acts as Zelda's confidante and mentor, and warns her about the devil of the tobacco fields, a harbinger of destruction.
As Zelda struggles with her simmering feelings toward the Tormentines, the devil appears to her one night in a motel parking lot. Can Puri Dai's love pull Zelda back from the brink and into a new future? The fate of her family depends on it.
Longing for glamour and riches and freedom, Zelda is a young woman who chafes against her Romany identity and her family's poverty. Everything changes when she’s lured away from working alongside her mother and aunts and other migrant workers in the tobacco fields and is hired as an assistant and good luck charm to the charismatic Trixie Tormentine.
What starts out as a summer of ease and access to the unfettered wealth of the Tormentines—Trixie's husband Jack owns the tobacco farm that employs Zelda's family and friends—unspools into dangerous displays of power and manipulation. One of the Romany family's puppets, grandmother Puri Dai, acts as Zelda's confidante and mentor, and warns her about the devil of the tobacco fields, a harbinger of destruction.
As Zelda struggles with her simmering feelings toward the Tormentines, the devil appears to her one night in a motel parking lot. Can Puri Dai's love pull Zelda back from the brink and into a new future? The fate of her family depends on it.
336 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
March 22, 2026
This story is a familiar one; you have heard it before: immigrant workers facing oppression and discrimination at the hands of the wealthy. And yet, you haven't heard this story. This story is steeped in magic and sacrifice and love and grief—a powerful illustration of the harmony that can exist between man and nature when faced with unyielding prejudices. And shouldn't every story—every voice, no matter how repetitive—have its opportunity to be heard? Nightshade by Lynn Hutchinson Lee is one such story, akin to the stories of every immigrant facing authoritarianism in this year we live in, and it warrants our attention.
Zelda and her mother, Rhoda, and aunties, Lilly and Liza May, are nomadic Romany workers; along with their family's menagerie of puppets, they emigrate from England to Canada when Zelda is a baby. As the years have passed, they have been working, travelling from town to town, adding to their savings, hopeful to one day buy a house—a home to call their own.
We find Zelda—now 18—and her family in the 1980s in the tobacco fields of Southern Ontario on the Tormentine farm, all working various odd jobs, when Missus Tormentine's eye is drawn to Zelda. Like many wealthy folks with devious intentions, she tries to entangle Zelda in her web of flashy material possessions, lies, and shadows. As Zelda's family, their new friends, and their own precious puppets are threatened by the lies and mistrust of the Tormentines and their community, a price will need to be paid—and balance restored—so that the cycle of life can continue.
I have found the most powerful magical realism is typically steeped in the history and folklore of a race of people that have been lost to time, shrouded in mystery. Nightshade is highly reminiscent to me of several classic magical realism literary fiction books that I have read; One Hundred Years of Solitude and Pedro Páramo were the two that were predominantly in my mind while reading this. I feel these types of magical realism novels truly contain the essence of the genre and are the most believably unbelievable. You don't quite know what's real and what's not, yet the majority of the story continues without interruption as if nothing out of the ordinary is occurring to persuade you otherwise.
The prose is beautiful but not pretentious; it is simply magic. We are witnesses to the repetitive cycles of life, death, grief, birth, and rebirth and how their interconnectedness is evident in the ecosystem we are all a part of. Beautiful and complex, simple yet unyielding. Weighted topics are plentiful, yet threaded with a light-heartedness that defies reason. Histories, stories, families, homes, traditions, lives—all are built to withstand the battering seasons of the trials and tribulations that are endured by these beautiful characters. These raklies, these women, are strength in the face of misogyny and class-based oppression.
Although undeserving, the victimizers are granted some leniency by Zelda's family. If we cannot show kindness to these gorjos, these outsiders, then are we any better than they are? This is, I think, out of everything we deal with in the face of injustice and trauma, one of the hardest things a person can do. It takes a deep understanding, a knowledge of what it is to exist in poverty or sickness, in facing death and destruction to be able to show true compassion to that which wears the face of evil.
My emotions ran a comprehensive gamut throughout, and to me, this results in almost always a 5-star book for me. I felt irritability at Zelda's jealousy of Missus Tormentine's material possessions (can't she see that it's all a trap?); empathy for Zelda when she felt shame for betraying her family; anger at the injustice of how the landowners treated the workers; joy when Zelda and her family made friends with the other workers and people in the town; and sadness and grief—leading to tears—due to the retaliation acts of the landowners against Zelda's family and friends; and finally, finally, happiness at how it all ends.
I hope above all else that you will pick up this delicate bird, which contradictorily shows immense strength, grasp it in your hands, and let it soar into your heart and mind. It is the shining star in the night sky among the millions that Zelda sees. She is reaching for her dreams; can we all say the same?
Zelda and her mother, Rhoda, and aunties, Lilly and Liza May, are nomadic Romany workers; along with their family's menagerie of puppets, they emigrate from England to Canada when Zelda is a baby. As the years have passed, they have been working, travelling from town to town, adding to their savings, hopeful to one day buy a house—a home to call their own.
We find Zelda—now 18—and her family in the 1980s in the tobacco fields of Southern Ontario on the Tormentine farm, all working various odd jobs, when Missus Tormentine's eye is drawn to Zelda. Like many wealthy folks with devious intentions, she tries to entangle Zelda in her web of flashy material possessions, lies, and shadows. As Zelda's family, their new friends, and their own precious puppets are threatened by the lies and mistrust of the Tormentines and their community, a price will need to be paid—and balance restored—so that the cycle of life can continue.
I have found the most powerful magical realism is typically steeped in the history and folklore of a race of people that have been lost to time, shrouded in mystery. Nightshade is highly reminiscent to me of several classic magical realism literary fiction books that I have read; One Hundred Years of Solitude and Pedro Páramo were the two that were predominantly in my mind while reading this. I feel these types of magical realism novels truly contain the essence of the genre and are the most believably unbelievable. You don't quite know what's real and what's not, yet the majority of the story continues without interruption as if nothing out of the ordinary is occurring to persuade you otherwise.
The prose is beautiful but not pretentious; it is simply magic. We are witnesses to the repetitive cycles of life, death, grief, birth, and rebirth and how their interconnectedness is evident in the ecosystem we are all a part of. Beautiful and complex, simple yet unyielding. Weighted topics are plentiful, yet threaded with a light-heartedness that defies reason. Histories, stories, families, homes, traditions, lives—all are built to withstand the battering seasons of the trials and tribulations that are endured by these beautiful characters. These raklies, these women, are strength in the face of misogyny and class-based oppression.
Although undeserving, the victimizers are granted some leniency by Zelda's family. If we cannot show kindness to these gorjos, these outsiders, then are we any better than they are? This is, I think, out of everything we deal with in the face of injustice and trauma, one of the hardest things a person can do. It takes a deep understanding, a knowledge of what it is to exist in poverty or sickness, in facing death and destruction to be able to show true compassion to that which wears the face of evil.
My emotions ran a comprehensive gamut throughout, and to me, this results in almost always a 5-star book for me. I felt irritability at Zelda's jealousy of Missus Tormentine's material possessions (can't she see that it's all a trap?); empathy for Zelda when she felt shame for betraying her family; anger at the injustice of how the landowners treated the workers; joy when Zelda and her family made friends with the other workers and people in the town; and sadness and grief—leading to tears—due to the retaliation acts of the landowners against Zelda's family and friends; and finally, finally, happiness at how it all ends.
I hope above all else that you will pick up this delicate bird, which contradictorily shows immense strength, grasp it in your hands, and let it soar into your heart and mind. It is the shining star in the night sky among the millions that Zelda sees. She is reaching for her dreams; can we all say the same?
March 22, 2026
Thank you to Assembly Press for sending me a copy of this book!
If I had a nickel for every Lynn Hutchinson Lee novel I’ve read that has filled me with such beautiful dread and inspiration and ultimate delight, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but is enough for me to add both books to my “Books I Will Always Recommend” list.
What a beautiful story Nightshade is. Told between dual perspectives is a story of heritage, what makes someone part of a group, a family. Zelda and her family and their puppets (oh, I love the puppets), together, portray such a beautiful example of a broken yet fulfilling family. I think that was even said nearly verbatim a couple of times throughout the book. The center of their family is the fact that they are together. The characterization here is also spectacular; none of the women in this family are perfect, but they are all so interesting in how they’ve traveled and lived and protected each other.
The Tormentines, however, suck. Especially Missus Tormentine. If Trixie Tormentine and the predatory men in her family have no haters, I’m dead. Also, no spoilers but the f*cking swans??? Oh my god.
Narratively, I loved how it was split between Zelda in the past tense and Puri Dai in the present. That shift in tense helps to continuously establish this idea that Puri Dai lives in a state that is everywhere. She is beyond the mundane and kind of toes this line between the real world and the spiritual. I also really loved Zelda’s narration style. I noted at one point that she feels so childlike in her assessment of the world and people around her, but that it’s a wizened kind of wonder. Like those kids who get called “old souls.” It was beautiful.
If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I enjoy thinking about the bigger picture of things, the context of literature. And I love thinking about the politics of it all. In this book, there’s this idealization of whiteness that, even though it’s set in the 1980s in Canada, offers such a compelling mirror to history and what is going on now, globally. This is such a good book for breaking down white supremacy not only in Canada, which I’m sure is a very pervasive thing, but also in America, where I live. Missus Tormentine is the epitome of the dangerous role white women play in upholding white supremacy. She’s sweet and kind when she thinks Zelda will help her and is downright fucking evil when that is no longer the case. Mister Tormentine and Leland Leatherby are, similarly, these perfect depictions of how men abuse their power. These depictions are so overt, but narratively, because we see it all through Zelda, are also subtle. It makes for such a devastatingly beautiful reading experience.
This book is a five star read unlike any of my other ones. This book wasn’t life-altering in that I was emotionally distraught (in a positive way). I felt, like… almost enraged in honor of Zelda and her family. I felt connected to them in a way. Such a moving book.
If I had a nickel for every Lynn Hutchinson Lee novel I’ve read that has filled me with such beautiful dread and inspiration and ultimate delight, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but is enough for me to add both books to my “Books I Will Always Recommend” list.
What a beautiful story Nightshade is. Told between dual perspectives is a story of heritage, what makes someone part of a group, a family. Zelda and her family and their puppets (oh, I love the puppets), together, portray such a beautiful example of a broken yet fulfilling family. I think that was even said nearly verbatim a couple of times throughout the book. The center of their family is the fact that they are together. The characterization here is also spectacular; none of the women in this family are perfect, but they are all so interesting in how they’ve traveled and lived and protected each other.
The Tormentines, however, suck. Especially Missus Tormentine. If Trixie Tormentine and the predatory men in her family have no haters, I’m dead. Also, no spoilers but the f*cking swans??? Oh my god.
Narratively, I loved how it was split between Zelda in the past tense and Puri Dai in the present. That shift in tense helps to continuously establish this idea that Puri Dai lives in a state that is everywhere. She is beyond the mundane and kind of toes this line between the real world and the spiritual. I also really loved Zelda’s narration style. I noted at one point that she feels so childlike in her assessment of the world and people around her, but that it’s a wizened kind of wonder. Like those kids who get called “old souls.” It was beautiful.
If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I enjoy thinking about the bigger picture of things, the context of literature. And I love thinking about the politics of it all. In this book, there’s this idealization of whiteness that, even though it’s set in the 1980s in Canada, offers such a compelling mirror to history and what is going on now, globally. This is such a good book for breaking down white supremacy not only in Canada, which I’m sure is a very pervasive thing, but also in America, where I live. Missus Tormentine is the epitome of the dangerous role white women play in upholding white supremacy. She’s sweet and kind when she thinks Zelda will help her and is downright fucking evil when that is no longer the case. Mister Tormentine and Leland Leatherby are, similarly, these perfect depictions of how men abuse their power. These depictions are so overt, but narratively, because we see it all through Zelda, are also subtle. It makes for such a devastatingly beautiful reading experience.
This book is a five star read unlike any of my other ones. This book wasn’t life-altering in that I was emotionally distraught (in a positive way). I felt, like… almost enraged in honor of Zelda and her family. I felt connected to them in a way. Such a moving book.
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
I don't know if I have the words to describe the beauty of this book.
This was a very moving coming-of-age story set in Southern Ontario in the 1980s (fun fact: this is the place and time of my birth). Zelda, a young Romany woman, starts working in the tobacco fields with her mother and two aunts. She is lured away and hired as an assistant by Trixie Tormentine, whose husband owns the tobacco farm that employs her family. What starts out as a summer of ease, turns into dangerous displays of power and manipulation.
I just loved the way this story unfolded! It was a little slow to start - it took me a minute to understand the elements of magical realism in this book - BUT, once I understood the Romany family’s puppets, specifically Zelda's puppet, Puri Dai, I really fell into the story head first. I could not put it down and ignored all responsibilities until I finished it!😅
This turned out to be a very emotional read for me and is definitely among my all-time favourite novels. Breathtakingly beautiful.
I'd recommend this to anyone who enjoys Gothic vibes, magical realism, coming-of-age, or historical fiction. This is a must-read!
This was a very moving coming-of-age story set in Southern Ontario in the 1980s (fun fact: this is the place and time of my birth). Zelda, a young Romany woman, starts working in the tobacco fields with her mother and two aunts. She is lured away and hired as an assistant by Trixie Tormentine, whose husband owns the tobacco farm that employs her family. What starts out as a summer of ease, turns into dangerous displays of power and manipulation.
I just loved the way this story unfolded! It was a little slow to start - it took me a minute to understand the elements of magical realism in this book - BUT, once I understood the Romany family’s puppets, specifically Zelda's puppet, Puri Dai, I really fell into the story head first. I could not put it down and ignored all responsibilities until I finished it!😅
This turned out to be a very emotional read for me and is definitely among my all-time favourite novels. Breathtakingly beautiful.
I'd recommend this to anyone who enjoys Gothic vibes, magical realism, coming-of-age, or historical fiction. This is a must-read!
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