My name is Otto Hundebiss. I was born in war, raised in war; in war I lost my family.

4.8 stars

A much darker fairytale than I expected, and not a happy tale by any means, this story was threaded through with elements of horror and filled with monsters from the world of men. Set during Europe's Thirty Years War (1618-1648), the all-too real atrocities of conflict, violence and mankind frame this creepy retelling and lend it emotional weight, and successfully delivered on the "modern resonance" that the author wanted to keep within this fairytale.

This book both mirrors and subverts the original story and fairytales in general, especially with its ending twist. The writing style, general narrative structure and (ostensibly) stock characters of Tinder largely recall traditional folklore, however, once you get deeper and deeper into this novel, it becomes clear who Gardner sees to be the central figure of the story, and the one who eventually reaps the rewards of using the Tinderbox. (Though I'd stop short of calling that reward a 'happy ending'.) This subversion was cleverly done, unexpected yet also completely logical, especially after considering how the Tinderbox came to be and who it affects the most. I had the growing impression that the Tinderbox itself possesses some way of judging the worthy, rather than merely binding itself to the first person who strikes the flint, and I wonder how much of this sentience is related to The Gentleman of the Ragged Order and his own judgement of his fellow characters. In the same vein, I suspect said Gentleman may somehow be connected to Death - who eventually comes for all, regardless of who tells the story.

Death will be waiting for you. Perhaps you can cheat him, perhaps not. I cannot tell you which direction the road will take you. All I know is that your boots belong on my pole.

Otto was an complicated character, who I both deeply sympathised with and yet could never fully support. Otto encapsulates very well the reaction of a regular person to the situation he finds himself in, as aside from the powers he harnesses through the wolves of the Tinderbox, he is perfectly ordinary. I was disappointed by some of his choices but not surprised, and he is certainly much kinder than what could reasonably be expected of him after the life he's had. One of my favourite facets of Otto's characterisation and arc is his close bond with his sister. Heartbreaking flashbacks crop up throughout this book, and give one of the plot revelations - and Otto's actions in light of this - a greater degree of significance. (It's so hard to explain further without spoiling!)

'You had a sister?' he asked me at last.
... 'Yes, I did.'
'You loved her dearly?'
'Yes, I did.'
'Then you know well what a treasured gift a sister is to a brother?'
'I do indeed.'

Otto's flashbacks to the violence he has witnessed are often uncomfortable to read, and through him Gardner vividly illustrates the dogs of war and how they hound survivors. Many of Otto's memories reminded me of the post-war accounts I've read for my university assignments concerning violence, memory and international criminal law; Gardner has clearly done her background research well.

I think it was then that I became old before my tomorrows. All that was pure in me lost, all belief washed from me.

Normally I dislike insta-love (though fairytales almost always feature this trope), but here Gardner has skilfully used it to lead up to a key character decision and plot point.

When you fall in love, that is when you will come into your kingdom. Not a day before.

Just another example of how carefully Gardner chooses her words - I love twists of meaning. Speaking of words, I loveloveloved the way Gardner writes. It's so beautiful, and I took just as much enjoyment in simply reading her writing as I did in the plot and characters. Her prose is suitably accompanied by David Robert's striking illustrations, with a similarly effective colour scheme akin to that used in And The Ocean Was Our Sky.

Moon madness was this meeting. It had to it a dream-like quality and I felt myself drawn into some enchantment, as if we had met in between the lines of our lives and were free because of it.

In some ways it reminded me of the stunning prose in Laini Taylor's Strange the Dreamer, and this is glowing praise from me because that book is one of my all-time favourites.

Tinder was a gritty and hauntingly written retelling of a fairytale that has been relatively underrepresented in the pool of reimagined folklore. I have a feeling that fans of Neil Gaiman and the Winternight trilogy would enjoy this too!