The Enchanted Greenhouse

“Around her, the courtroom erupted into shouting. Rijes Velk stormed toward the dais, while Terlu sank deeper into her chair and hugged her arms around herself. It was only when the judge demanded silence that she realized she was screaming like a dying rabbit.”

The simile comparing Terlu’s screams to the sounds made by “a dying rabbit” illustrates the main character’s fear and despair after the judge decrees her sentence. The fact that rabbits are small prey animals and the specification that she sounds like a “dying” creature indicate that she has no hope of escape from the draconic judgment.

“She dreamed sometimes, or almost dreamed, since it was never true sleep. Statues can’t sleep. In her favorite dream, she was standing in sunlight, listening to music. Ahh, music! And she was tasting a pastry. Or tasting a kiss. And there were people all around her, voices and laughter that were the most beautiful music. All around her, it smelled like roses. But the dream never lasted, and then once again there was nothing, nothing, nothing.”

The author fills the passage with descriptions that appeal to multiple senses, such as the auditory imagery of “voices and laughter” and “the most beautiful music.” These vivid sensory details emphasize Terlu’s isolation and yearning because she’s cut off from the outside world during her time as a statue. The repetition of “nothing” at the end of the excerpt emphasizes the emptiness and loss of identity Terlu experiences while serving her sentence. At the same time, her dream offers a hopeful piece of foreshadowing; her imagining that she’s “tasting a pastry” or “a kiss” offers a hint that she will fall in love with an avid baker.

“Everywhere she looked, roses climbed out of pots and over trellises, up the windows and into the cupola, every shade imaginable: pink, yellow, white, champagne, sky blue, purple, fuchsia, coral, dusty pink, salmon pink, deep red, an even deeper red so dark it was almost black…And the scent! It was intoxicating. Terlu breathed it in. It was such a rich, luscious scent that it made her feel as if she were floating on clouds at sunset.”

Durst depicts the beauty of the greenhouse’s rose room through visual imagery, such as the many hues of the flowers, and olfactory imagery, such as the roses’ “rich, luscious scent.” The image of Terlu “floating on clouds at sunset” adds to the scene’s tranquil atmosphere. Additionally, roses are traditionally associated with romance, and Terlu meets Yarrow in the rose room, hinting at his role as her love interest.

“It had herbs she had no name for, but they made her feel as if she were being hugged. It was warm and nutty, and the vegetables—which she also couldn’t identify—were sometimes sweet and sometimes tart and always perfect. The broth warmed her throat, straight down to her stomach, and she felt its warmth spread to the rest of her. It was impossible to think about anything else while she ate, and so she just ate and tasted the sweet and the spicy and the nutty and the warm, while the winged cat purred louder and louder by the crackling fire.”

Descriptions of delicious, homemade food are often a key part of the comforting quality of cozy fantasy, as demonstrated by this passage about Yarrow’s vegetable soup. Polysyndeton is the stylistic addition of coordinating conjunctions where none are grammatically necessary. In the phrase “the sweet and the spicy and the nutty and the warm,” the author uses polysyndeton to underline the soup’s nuanced, delectable flavor profile. The gustatory imagery, Terlu’s sensation that she is being “hugged” by the herbs, and the repetition in the phrase “purred louder and louder” contribute to the scene’s mood of contentment.

“I can’t go back—I can’t go back—I can’t—I can’t. She started feeling the squeeze in her throat that she’d felt when the spell was cast on her, and she remembered how her limbs had stiffened, how her eyes and her mouth had dried, how her heart had slowed while her mind panicked.”

In literature, anaphora refers to the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of a series of consecutive sentences or phrases. In this passage, the repetition of “how her” in the final sentence is an example of anaphora that emphasizes the fearful effects of the spell that turned Terlu into a statue, reinforcing the protagonist’s terror of being rendered inanimate again. Durst also uses repetition to portray the character’s desperation by giving the third-person narrator access to Terlu’s thoughts: “I can’t go back—I can’t go back—I can’t—I can’t.”

“The crackle of the fire was louder than the wind outside, and Terlu thought despite being as far from the Great Library as she’d ever been, this was what she’d imagined being a librarian would be like: sorting through texts in the companionship of others who cared just as much as she did. When Lotti began to sing in a voice that sounded as sweet as water in a stream, Terlu thought it was just perfect. Yarrow hummed in harmony with her, his voice as deep as the sea. The fire continued to crackle, and Terlu worked on into the late hours of the night.”

The reference to the Great Library helps to illustrate how Terlu’s new life on Belde contrasts with her painfully lonely existence in Alyssium. The onomatopoeia of the fire’s “crackle” adds to the passage’s cheerful, cozy mood, and the similes comparing Lotti and Yarrow’s voices to “water in a stream” and “the sea,” respectively, reflect the new companions’ harmony and shared purpose.

“Emperor Mevorin liked to insist every action taken by the empire was for the good of its people, but far too many of its actions throughout history had been for the good of the empire, which was not—regardless of what the emperor espoused—the same thing. An empire, unchecked, was a selfish beast of insatiable hunger.”

The metaphor that compares the Crescent Islands Empire to “a selfish beast of insatiable hunger” situates Terlu’s disproportionate punishment within a broader historical context of conquest and intolerance. The passage contributes to the novel’s suspense because it suggests that the empire’s brutal laws might still be able to reach Terlu in Belde, a major source of fear for the protagonist throughout the novel.

“It was exquisite: an exact miniature of the great dragons of Ilreka. Each scale was a tiny jewel, and its wings were as delicate as a butterfly’s. It looked as if it were made of blown glass.”

The metaphor comparing the dragons’ scales to jewels and the simile that describes their wings as “as delicate as a butterfly’s” communicate Terlu’s sense of wonder at the creatures. Durst gives a classic element of fantasy a cozy, cottagecore twist by making these dragons tiny pollinators for the greenhouse’s flowers.

“A few minutes later, the three of them and their prizes exited the maze—straight through, with sunflowers opening a path to the door. Above, the aurora danced with the dragons as they cavorted in the sky, shooting tiny flames like they were stray fireworks.”

The author uses multiple literary techniques to create a triumphant, celebratory mood in this scene. The diction of the word “prizes,” the personification that says the aurora “danced,” and the simile comparing the dragons’ “tiny flames” to “stray fireworks” all reinforce the team’s excitement that they are making progress toward unraveling Laiken’s mysteries and saving the greenhouse.

“She cradled the mug in both hands, and the warmth sank into her palms. She breathed in the chocolaty steam and thought she’d never smelled anything so wonderful. He’d sprinkled bits of hazelnut on top, and ooh, was that a swirl of caramel? Yes, it was. […] She took a sip. It was like drinking a sunset, where the sun had stained the clouds the deepest, richest rose. Molten sunshine was dripping down her throat.”

Durst creates an inviting mood through vivid descriptions of the hot chocolate. She provides gustatory imagery with “bits of hazelnut” and “a swirl of caramel,” tactile imagery with the “warmth” of the mug, and olfactory imagery with the “chocolatey steam.” The simile comparing the beverage to “a sunset” and the metaphor equating it to “[m]olten sunshine” further emphasize the drink’s deliciousness. The passage connects to the novel’s love story because Yarrow’s culinary skills are one of the primary ways that he shows Terlu that he cares about her.

“Yarrow said, ‘It sounds like she was his victim too. All of you were.’ A thread of anger laced through his voice. She felt it too, unfurling inside her, like boiling water in her stomach. If the sorcerer were here…You didn’t treat living beings this way. He’d brought them to life; that made them his family. You didn’t treat family like this.”

The metaphorical language of the “thread of anger” in Yarrow’s voice and the simile comparing Terlu’s anger to “boiling water in her stomach” express the righteous fury the two humans feel on the sentient plants’ behalf. The repetition of the words “You didn’t” and “family” underscores Terlu’s strong principles and connects to the novel’s exploration of The Healing Power of Love, including familial love.

“The air was as crisp as a ginger cookie. She shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her coat as she trudged beneath a sky that was vibrantly blue. Snow, lacing the trees and coating the ground, shimmered. It crunched beneath her feet as she walked between the trees.”

The author evokes a beautiful winter day with the simile that says the air is “as crisp as a ginger cookie,” visual imagery about the “vibrantly blue” sky, and the onomatopoeia of the crunching leaves. This scene offers a reminder that Belde’s beauty extends beyond the greenhouse and demonstrates the soothing power of nature.

“‘What’s happening in Alyssium?’ She tried to sound casual, as if this wasn’t significant news that could alter the course of history and potentially affect her life and her future and her safety, as well as the life and safety of everyone she knew both in the capital city and beyond. ‘A revolution, you said?’”

Durst uses polysyndeton in the phrase “her life and her future and her safety” to give the second sentence an expansive flow that reflects the far-reaching ramifications that the sailor’s news has for Terlu and the other people of the Crescent Islands. The juxtaposition of Marin’s high-stakes news and Terlu’s attempts at “casual” dialogue provides some comic relief.

“After the tomatoes, they crossed into dead room after dead room, until at last he stopped. He didn’t say anything at first. He just turned in a slow circle. She looked too: at the cracks in the glass, the brittle dead plants, the cobwebs in the cupola, and the heavy layer of dust that lay over it all like a gauzy shroud.”

The repetition in the phrase “dead room after dead room” fosters a somber mood and helps to convey that much of the greenhouse complex has already been lost. The simile likening the dust to “a gauzy shroud” adds to the scene’s melancholy. The excerpt raises the novel’s suspense by offering an ominous reminder of the fate that awaits the rest of the greenhouse’s plants unless Terlu can save them.

“She had kissed and been kissed before, but never like this, like she was the most precious jewel in all the Crescent Islands. His lips were warm and soft and tasted like honey—how did anyone taste like honey when they first woke? His hands were on her back, pulling her so close that she could feel his heart beat through the fabric of their shirts, and she wanted to be closer, to be enveloped by him.”

Durst accentuates the romance of Terlu and Yarrow’s first kiss through the simile that describes how he makes her feel like “the most precious jewel in all the Crescent Islands.” The figurative language expresses how the protagonist’s relationship with Yarrow offers her a sense of belonging and raises her self-esteem, demonstrating the healing power of love.

“She had no real trauma to explain why she was the way she was. It was more just years’ worth of little cracks in her heart, like in the glass panes of the failed greenhouses. Her family loved her, but she never really found her place with them on Eano. And the library…She never truly fit there either. She drifted through life, wanting and reaching but never having, always feeling just a little lost and just a little empty and just a little lonely.”

Durst uses a simile to liken Terlu’s negative experiences to “little cracks,” creating a link between the main character’s emotional pain and the “glass panes of the failed greenhouses.” Repetition and polysyndeton in the phrase “just a little lost and just a little empty and just a little lonely” add to the passage’s melancholy, wistful mood. On a positive note, Terlu has found a way to magically mend the literal cracks in the greenhouse at this point of the novel, offering hope that her figurative, emotional cracks can also be healed.

“I don’t want just someone. I want him. Even though he refused to deal with his feelings about his family. Even though he hadn’t shared anything about his anger and his disappointment in them before they’d arrived. Even though she still didn’t know how he felt about her.”

This excerpt advances the novel’s central love story and also illustrates the protagonist’s growth. At the start of the story, she was so desperate for company that she broke the law, but now her desire for companionship has a clear focus: “I don’t want just someone. I want him.” The repetition of the words “Even though” at the start of the stylistic fragments in this passage is an example of anaphora. The repetition emphasizes Terlu’s awareness that she doesn’t fully understand Yarrow yet but is willing to put in the necessary work to build a relationship with him.

“Laiken would have hated that a gardener inherited. He viewed us the same way he viewed a shovel or a bee, a tool to keep his gardens alive.”

The comparison of a gardener to “a shovel or a bee” functions on multiple levels. Laiken’s view that people like Yarrow are merely “tool[s] to keep his gardens alive” is dismissive and disparaging. Yarrow greatly admired the sorcerer, so Laiken’s demeaning attitude toward him likely contributes to the gardener’s lowly opinion of himself. On the other hand, “cottagecore” fiction extols the dignity of labor and the virtue of self-sufficiency even if the sorcerer’s respect for these values is lacking. Including this passage, there are many moments in the novel when Yarrow is linked to bees and honey, an association that reinforces the industriousness that is pivotal to his character.

“Somehow she’d gone from thinking she was alone on the island to addressing a crowd. We’re stronger together. Or we can be. Like a rope, made of threads woven together.”

Terlu’s conviction that Belde’s inhabitants are “stronger together” like “a rope, made of threads woven together” uses a simile to advance the theme of Escaping Isolation Through Empathy. The humans’ and plants’ concern for the greenhouse unites them, reflecting the novel’s positive worldview and focus on found family.

“‘You aren’t alone anymore either.’ The words felt like a jolt. She’d been saying them over and over to Yarrow—he wasn’t alone, he didn’t need to be alone, it was better that he wasn’t alone—but she had stopped thinking about how they applied to herself, even though he’d said it before too. This time, she allowed the words to sink in. He’d been trying to show her that with every honey cake he’d baked, every greenhouse he’d shared with her, every afternoon he’d spent with her experimenting with spells. I’m not alone.”

The repetition of the word “alone” shows how Terlu has striven to help Yarrow see that he doesn’t have to be by himself anymore, and the repetition of “every” highlights how the gardener has sought to instill the same message in her. This excerpt about Terlu’s realization marks an important moment for the theme of Escaping Isolation Through Empathy, and the reference to Yarrow’s honey cakes reinforces their significance as a symbol of Yarrow’s care.

“‘We should dump the ashes off the dock,’ Yarrow suggested. ‘It’s deeper there.’ ‘Throw,’ Terlu said. ‘Same thing, yes?’ ‘But it sounds more dramatic,’ Terlu said. ‘Words matter.’ The right words could heal shattered glass. And hearts. And families. And lives.”

Terlu’s substitution of “[t]hrow” for “dump” makes a point about diction. In Durst’s fantasy world, precision with words is essential to magic. In addition, the passage points out how words have a magic of their own separate from spellwork, particularly when they are used to express care. The stylistic fragments at the end of the passage highlight the many things that words can mend, illustrating the healing power of love.

“‘It’s great to see you both,’ Terlu said, but her eyes were fixed on the letter. It was tied with a multicolored ribbon—red, yellow, and orange, matching the paint on her family’s home. She took it, lifted it to her nose, and inhaled. She could smell it on the paper, the faint odor of citrus and salt water. Home.”

Durst uses visual imagery, such as the “red, yellow, and orange” ribbon, and olfactory imagery, such as “the faint odor of citrus and salt water,” to paint a picture of Terlu’s childhood home on Eano. These sensory details emphasize the importance of the first message the protagonist has received from her family in several years, building up the anticipation about the letter’s contents.

“The community on Belde was growing faster than she could have ever expected. It was the seed of a village now, and that was a good thing. This place didn’t need to be isolated to be safe—Laiken had had it all backward and mixed up. The only way the island would survive—the only way they’d all thrive—was together.”

The figurative language describing Belde’s growing community as “the seed of a village” resonates with the novel’s botanical focus and presents an image of new life and possibility that aligns with the story’s theme of second chances. The punctuation of the last two sentences also reflects one of the novel’s major themes. Dashes serve as bridges connecting the author’s ideas just as empathy allows the characters to escape isolation.