A Letter from Author Tessa Gratton I often describe
Blood Magic as being a novel about teenagers, kissing, and cemeteries.
There are a lot of other things going on, of course. Magic and bloodletting, to be obvious. The interaction of history with our lives. Sacrifice and power and immortality. The sins of the fathers. More kissing.
But every iteration of the novel, from the first baby draft, has circled in some way around cemeteries. A character at one point says, “I think the cemetery is at the center of everything.” He means it specifically, but it’s also a thematic statement. Cemeteries
are at the center of everything in
Blood Magic.
Like many people, I’ve been fascinated with them for years: the hard lines of a military cemetery, the wet death-cities in New Orleans, the crowded hillside of tall, narrow headstones near my house in Japan. We learn so much about ourselves and our relationship with death by looking at our death rituals. In many ways, a cemetery is a mask that hides the worst parts of death from us. There is nothing gruesome about a cemetery, or dirty. Instead we mark graves with pale stone, write simple words of comfort or dates to remember there. It’s a place to grieve and lay down flowers.
For some of us, a cemetery can be a place of inspiration. A direct connection to the past. They offer a record of lives spreading out in front of you, of people who stood on the same ground, who laughed and worked and loved in the area.
The atmosphere of a cemetery can at once be beautiful and hushed with tragedy. Echoes of powerful emotion linger under trees and in small toys left against headstones. Even under the full sun, I can’t stand in a cemetery without feeling some part of me cold and aware of the earth under my feet. There are ghosts there, and flocks of crows.
Who wouldn’t want to set a novel in such a place? Who wouldn’t want to tap into all that energy?
In the end,
Blood Magic is about two kids learning about what’s important, and what you have to let go of to grow up. (And kissing.) It would have been impossible to tell the story without exploring the role of death in their lives--without giving them a cemetery in which to find their lives.
And when my time comes, I, personally, would like a fiery ship burial.
TESSA GRATTON has wanted to be a paleontologist or a wizard since she was seven. She was too impatient to hunt dinosaurs, but is still searching for someone to teach her magic. After traveling the world with her military family, she acquired a BA (and the important parts of an MA) in Gender Studies, then settled down in Kansas with her partner, her cats, and her mutant dog. You can visit Tessa at TessaGratton.com.
From the Hardcover edition.