57 pages • 1-hour read
A Forbidden Alchemy
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Themes
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes mention of substance use, death, graphic violence, sexual content, and cursing.
The Tension Between Love and Ideology
Throughout the novel, love and ideology repeatedly collide, forcing the characters to choose between personal attachment and loyalty to their principles. This theme drives major plot events, as love threatens to blur boundaries that the systems of power rely on to survive. It also drives character development. For Nina, Patrick, and Theo, their ideologies form a strong part of their identities. When love enters the story, it is both a refuge and a risk.
Theo embodies the suffocating grip of ideology on the individual. When the bomb goes off at their graduation, he begs Nina to escape with him, insisting, “The Miners Union… if they find you, they’ll kill you. The House of Lords will keep us safe.” His words are driven by both his love for Nina and his trust in the government. In the same breath, he reveals his biases: “These fucking Crafters will get what’s coming to them” (95). His loyalty to the House of Lords is backed by his fear, prejudice, and belief in revenge. Nina recognizes instantly that whatever love she has for Theo cannot overcome that prejudice: “I saw clearly the world divided in two: him on one side and me lost in the middle.” In this moment, love is no longer a bridge between them. Their relationship is instead a reminder of the ideological chasm, widened by Nina’s knowledge of the truth behind the siphoning ceremony, that separates them.
Ideology also comes between Nina and Patrick. From the day Nina arrives in Kenton Hill, her ideological differences with Patrick are obvious. As he takes pleasure in the fact that Nina has not joined the other side, Nina reminds him, “I can’t take your side,” and “If you have any misconceptions that I sympathize with you, I should dispel them” (164). Patrick suspects she does have sympathy for his cause, but tension remains. Patrick commits himself to changing Nina’s mind, and Nina remains committed to her belief that the violence of both sides is wrong. For both of them, love is dangerous in that it destabilizes the ideological foundation that has given their suffering meaning over the past 13 years.
During the raid on Kenton Hill, this conflict reaches its breaking point. As Patrick realizes Nina’s betrayal, his thoughts fracture: “She lied to you, sang a voice. Outsmarted you. You were too stupid to see it.… And you can’t even kill her for it, can you?” (461). The taunting voice exposes the extent to which love has compromised his allegiance. His instinct is to enact vengeance, but he knows that his love for Nina will prevent this. In his mind, her betrayal reflects his own shortcomings. Rather than pinning it on their ideological differences, he blames his stupidity. In this moment, this is less painful for him than recognizing what her betrayal implies about her allegiances. Since this is the first book in the trilogy, these tensions aren’t resolved; they remain open for further exploration in future novels.
The Subjective Nature of Morality
The characters in A Forbidden Alchemy operate within a morally gray area where justice, loyalty, and survival blur the boundaries between right and wrong. Every character, from Patrick to Lord Tanner, believes themselves to be acting righteously. Yet other characters continuously undermine this certainty, suggesting that morality is not absolute but circumstantial, shaped by power and perspective.
From the beginning, the government frames order as right and rebellion as wrong. To Nina and Theo, Tanner describes the miners as “good people who will suffer the consequences of their crimes,” exposing how authority manipulates moral terms to justify violence (74). The citizens striking are “good” people, but they will “suffer” because they are criminals for withholding their labor. When the union captures the last Alchemist, the news reports that the “The Right Honorable Lord himself reassured the press that […] the terrorists [have been] apprehended” (97). The Crafters are labeled “terrorists” while Tanner’s title contains the word “right.” The moral framework provided to the masses depends entirely on who controls the story.
Patrick, however, challenges the state’s conception of morality. When he tells Nina, “The truth is, my family is in the business of justice,” he defines justice not as legality but as maintaining peace. He explains, “Sometimes it means feedin’ people […]. Other times, it means dynamite and bad deals and men with bullets between their eyes” (176). Patrick embodies a “chaotic good” alignment: he believes that he is able to determine which acts of compassion and acts of violence coexist under the same banner of justice. Sam, who guards Nina’s room, captures this complexity when he admits “[Patrick is] bad to those who’re bad. No idea if that makes him good, though” (337). Because the law is not on his side, Patrick’s decisions that protect his people often require harming someone else. His world does not offer moral clarity, yet he yearns for it. His inability to sleep after committing a violent act suggests that he is less certain in his sense of justice than he appears.
Nina’s understanding of morality evolves throughout the story. Early on, she insists that both sides are equally guilty because they create the same kinds of suffering: “You both bleed the same. Both scream the same. Both leave women without husbands and children without parents” (164). Her observation refuses the binary logic of heroes and villains. By equating the bloodshed of both Artisans and Crafters, she exposes the shared humanity that war often conceals. Yet, for seven years this recognition has brought her only isolation. In a strongly divided world, seeing both sides of the conflict makes her belong to neither.
The Conflict Between Mind and Body
In this story, there is a recurring conflict between mind and body—which impulses to value and which to mistrust. The society itself is built upon the opposing forces of Artisans, who use their minds to work, and Crafters, who use their bodies. Lord Tanner explains that “creation comes from the body and the mind. Craftsman and creator” (14). He acknowledges the importance of both the body and the mind, but then refers to Artisans as “creators,” erasing the ability of Crafters to do the labor of creation. He goes on to say that “‘Both are equally vital in the turning of the world, for who will shift the Earth on its axis, once the idea has been conceived?’” (14). Assuming a disconnect between the body and mind, Tanner implies that separate people must formulate and execute an idea. By using the passive voice (“the idea has been conceived”) Tanner praises the impact of the Crafter while retaining the real credit and glory—money, power, health—for the Artisans. By using the hyperbole “shift the Earth on its axis,” Tanner also reveals the Crafters as society’s driving force though he doesn’t believe they deserve a larger share of the profits their labor creates.
This idea is partly what makes Nina’s power, earth Charming, so fitting for her character. It is precisely because her body and mind are connected that she is able to do her work. The truth behind the mind-body dichotomy that Tanner proposes is that they all use both their minds and their bodies, but Artisans are encouraged to use both whereas Crafters are forced to use only their bodies, often numbing their minds in the form of alcohol or bluff. In Tanner’s ideal world, the Crafters would be simply bodies without minds: In this reality, they would be far better workers, unable to rebel. By telling them repeatedly that their bodies are their most important asset, he attempts to discourage them from using their minds.
For Nina, the tension between mind and body becomes personal. When she indicates what motivates her by pointing to her chest, “Patrick knew that if she could show him directly beneath the skin and sinew and bone, there would lie her beating heart” (25). Her strength, then, is not in cerebral distance but in emotional embodiment. Later, her connection to Patrick reinforces this union of thought and feeling: “I couldn’t see Patrick. But I could feel him beside me, his shoulder pressed to mine. I let it soothe me” (470). Here, physical presence carries mental reassurance—proof that intimacy and understanding exist not in separation but in contact.
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