A couple of years ago, I read Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender (they/them or he/him). It’s a queer contemporary YA novel about an artistic transmasculine teenager struggling with life and love, and I loved it. It easily got five stars from me and even ended up on my year-end favorite-books list in 2021. I love queer contemporary YA and read a ton of it, but my truest literary love is YA fantasy. While there are arguably more books that I love that are YA contemporary, I love the fantasy books I love more. I didn’t know about Infinity Alchemist before it fell into my path, but when I saw it I knew I had to have it. The author of a book I loved writing in my favorite genre? That’s an automatic read.
What’s it about?
Ash has always wanted to be a licensed alchemist, but after being rejected from a prestigious alchemic college he ends up working there as a groundsman and practicing in secret. As a naturally gifted alchemist, Ash draws the attention of Ramsay Thorne, a young professor with a dark family past who is searching for the legendary Book of Source. Thorne needs Ash’s help to find the Book, but their search draws the attention from dangerous people… including the father who abandoned Ash and his mother before Ash was even born.
What’d I think?
I always get ahead of myself with excitement when a favorite contemporary writer writes a fantasy novel. The two genres are very different, and the skillset for one does not necessarily translate to the other. It can, but it doesn’t always. Infinity Alchemist, unfortunately, isn’t a great fantasy novel. It is immensely ambitious and sets up a world that is in clear conversation with ours, with parallels between alchemy and queerness. Alongside the parallels, there are actual queer characters. The blurb for the book tells us that it “[features] trans, queer, and polyamorous characters of color” and while that is the novel’s major selling point… it also tells the reader too much.
There are spoilers in this review, at least about the romantic storyline. I do not spoil the plot and, arguably, I don’t spoil the romance any more than the book’s own summary does. Still, if you’re spoiler-averse and don’t want to know who ends up with whom, read the book and then come back.
I was very excited to read this because of the trans, queer, and polyamorous characters of color; as a selling point, it works to point those things out. Unfortunately, knowing in advance that Ash’s love triangle ends up as a polycule actually feels like a spoiler becauase the romantic storyline takes precedent over anything else, and it is initially presented like a love triangle (albeit a more complex one than the usual).
The fantasy plotline feels cooked up primarily to facilitate the romantic storyline. The Book of Source is little more than a Macguffin. We’re told vaguely that it will make its reader unbelievably powerful and that Ramsay’s murderous parents had been searching for it. Ramsay needs Ash to find the book, and in the process of searching for it they have to do some mind-melding magic that brings them close enough to fall in love. Then they get separated for plot reasons and Ash finds himself in the care of Ramsay’s ex-boyfriend Callum. In searching for Ramsay, Ash and Callum end up starting to fall for each other, and as they do Ash worries about the future. Which of the two of them will Ramsay pick? The new love? The childhood flame? And are his feelings for Callum a betrayal of Ramsay? The dynamic when they meet back up with Ramsay is awkward; Ramsay is furious with Callum for events in their past, and feels slighted that Ash started up a new relationship. Ash loves them both and doesn’t know quite how to proceed. The novel teases all the possible endgame couples: Ash and Ramsay! Ramsay and Callum! Callum and Ash! The end result—all three of them in love with each other—is the natural conclusion of it… but drawing the conclusion out for the entire novel when it is literally promised on the back cover is a little frustrating. I wish I hadn’t known that going in so that I could be pleasantly surprised instead of just going get on with it the whole time. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have minded that so much if the plot hadn’t been felt cooked up purely to get to the sexy bits.
Well, I say “sexy bits.” This is by no means a spicy book. I almost feel like it should have been. It’s appropriate for a YA audience in that the sex isn’t explicit, but considering that so much about the relationships are about the sex, the novel feels awkwardly placed. The sex scenes aren’t detailed or arousing, but it’s not entirely closed door, either. It occupies an uncomfortable position somewhere in the middle. YA can have some sex in it, but when a book’s main focus is on who the main character is or wants to be sleeping with (even if it isn’t about the physical act itself), YA seems like an odd place for it.
Unfortunately, everything moves too quickly. I was barely invested in Ash’s relationship with Ramsay before things went sideways and all of a sudden there was Callum. Ramsay and Ash fall in love via mind-melding. They see flashes of each other’s lives and that’s what allows them to get to know each other. Then Ash is taken a prisoner and put under Callum’s care. Callum is kind, noble, attractive, and capable of reading minds (or, at least emotions). Ash is immediately attracted to him and they also get together quickly.
I wish that the relationship with Callum had been approached differently. I have no issue with polyamory, but I do strongly believe that it’s something that needs to be discussed and agreed upon. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I generally think that anyone in a serious romantic/sexual relationship needs to have a conversation with their partner before sleeping with someone else. Even if monogamy weren’t the default, there are health and emotional implications if your partner is sleeping with other people. It’s not a do it and explain later sort of thing. Like, I’m sorry Ash, but we never said we were exclusive is not an excuse. You’ve been living in Ramsay’s house. You’re in a relationship in addition to being partners in an important alchemical adventure. Assume exclusivity unless you both agree otherwise. Infinity Alchemist isn’t set in a world where polyamory is common. Even after he sleeps with Callum, it doesn’t occur to Ash that the three of them could be a throuple. He assumes that someone will get left out in the end, and when they meet up with Ramsay again he doesn’t give her* much of an option. He’s basically like I want you both. You can sleep on either side of me in the bed, but I’m not choosing. He’s lucky Ramsay and Callum fell back in love quickly, because otherwise he’s an asshole. The most frustrating part of this is that it could have been fixed easily if at any point either Ramsay or Ash had indicated to each other that they were polyamorous or were not in an exclusive relationship before Callum showed up. Do what you want with whomever you want and however many people you want, but… sleeping with a second person and then after the fact telling your partner that you’re not willing to break it off with either them feels kinda like cheating.
I do like the way that Callum speaks about Ramsay and not making assumptions about her feelings without consulting her, though. That was nice, and it’s a nice contrast to the many, many fictional boyfriends who decide they know what’s best for their girlfriends without every talking it out or asking. Still, on the whole, while I think it is cool to have a polyamorous relationship in Infinity Alchemist, I’m not entirely convinced it was pulled off.
To be totally honest, there’s little in this book that I felt was pulled off well. The relationships are too rushed. The magic itself feels underdeveloped. The plot is thin. The fantasy chase doesn’t feel fully realized; it feels like it was just crammed into there so that Callender could make commentary on oppressive and hypocritical religion. I love that in theory. There’s immense room for storytelling, and many of my favorite fantasy novels include interesting religious elements, blurring the lines between the spiritual and the political and using the church as yet another way for people to obtain power. Heck, the fantasy book I’m writing addresses religious trauma. I love that Callender approaches the topic, particularly as a queer writer writing about queer characters. It’s affirming and refreshing when fiction addresses the harmful side of religion instead of taking the easy way out and just saying well this community/church/priest ISN’T actively homophobic, so actually religion is good. The problem is that Infinity Alchemist simultaneously tries to do too much and too little.
When we first get established in the world and with Ash, we learn that he desperately wants to be a licensed alchemist but that he is unable to be trained or licensed basically because he’s poor and doesn’t have the right connections. In order to make a good life for himself, he needs to go through an alchemy college so that he can join a powerful House and live well, but because of his station in life he can’t get into the college and can’t achieve any of his dreams despite his immense natural talent. He regularly argues about the systematic oppression that keeps him and people like him from succeeding, even while others tell him that Source—basically an all-encompassing god—makes all things possible and that it’s his attitude keeping him down. The ability to practice alchemy is shown to be a kind of indicator of social value, something desired but attainable only by the wealthy. This makes sense, but it isn’t quite carried through. There’s even implication at the end that everyone was right, and that Ash always did have everything he needed and it really was his attitude keeping him down. I don’t love that.
In the second half of the novel, the way alchemy and alchemists are treated shifts. Although we’re told that all people, whether they know it or not, practice alchemy in small ways, House Lune—functionally the head of the church—feels that alchemists are inherently evil and ought to be destroyed. Suddenly alchemy is less a marker of high social status and more a despised identity. It very much feels like a queer metaphor: the spiritual arbiters consider alchemists inherently sinful, and while people are born with alchemical ability, they are able to hide it. There’s even a passing just don’t act on it moment. Alchemists are treated as inherently dangerous and even Ash’s best friend in the world turns on him when he realizes he’s practicing. While alchemy could exist both as a commentary on class and as a metaphor for queerness, the two don’t mesh well together. It would take significant explanation and nuance to make the same practice believable as both an indicator of high class and high discrimination, and it isn’t given enough attention here. I would have enjoyed either version, but they don’t work well together and the waffling between the two is jarring.
It’s frustrating because the thinly drawn plot is slapped together pretty thinly purely to let the worldbuilding and queer characters shine, but there are enough issues with the world and central relationship that a compelling plot pulling focus would have helped the novel overall. You can get away with some worldbuilding holes if the reader is too breathless to find out what happens next to worry about inconsistencies.
I will say that I did love the representation. One of my favorite things about Callender’s books is that they include identities that I don’t see elsewhere in fiction. I think that Felix Ever After is the only book I’ve ever read with a demiboy as a hero. I’ve sought out and read lots of good books with enbies, but no other author I’ve found delves as deeply into those forgotten, in-between identities as Callender does. Ash’s relationship with his own body delighted me, and I loved the way that Infinity Alchemist on the whole addresses gender; it’s one part of the worldbuilding that’s done really well. Every time I read about one of Callender’s transmasculine/genderfluid/gender-nonconforming heroes I feel a little bit seen, like I might eventually figure out what’s going on with myself. Ramsay’s gender, too, is refreshing. Ramsay is nonbinary, but instead of being “they/them” all the time, she* presents differently at different times. Ramsay and Ash have an upfront and candid conversation about it near the beginning of the book, with Ramsay explaining how she’d like to be addressed (she’ll present differently day-to-day and will change pronouns from she/her to he/him accordingly, and between meetings Ash should refer to her with whichever pronouns she was using the last time they were together). It’s wonderful to read books with characters of different gender identities and expressions. I wish Ash and Ramsay (and Callum, though he’s not as relevant to the specific discussion of gender) had been in an overall better book, because I love their relationship with gender and identity, and I enjoyed the way it fit into the larger magical world of the novel.
*I’ve chose to use she/her for Ramsay in this review both because she identifies as female more often in the novel and because the last time I was with her (in the final chapter of the novel), she was using she/her and that’s how I was instructed to address her between meetings.
What’s the verdict?
I wanted and expected to love Infinity Alchemist, but I was let down. Infinity Alchemist pitches itself thusly: “featuring trans, queer, and polyamorous characters of color, Infinity Alchemist is the hugely anticipated young adult fantasy debut from the extraordinary author of Felix Ever After, King and the Dragonflies, Queen of the Conquered, and more.” That description was enough to get me to quickly snap the book up and read it, and after I’ve finished it rings very true. Kacen Callender is an extraordinary author. The characters’ identities in this novel shine and are arguably the sole reason to read it, because while Callender is amazing at writing about the experiences of queer people of color—particularly trans and/or nonbinary people of color—Infinity Alchemist very much feels like a fantasy debut. The plot in thin and the worldbuilding has obvious holes when parsed with any scrutiny. As much as I wanted to adore this one, it was a miss for me.
What’s next?
As I said repeatedly above, I highly recommend Callender’s novel Felix Ever After. It’s delightful. This is Kind of an Epic Love Story is good as well.
Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee is one of my favorite books with solid trans and enby representation. The main character is a gay transman and there is an important secondary character who spends the novel experimenting with identity. Like Felix Ever After, Meet Cute Diary lets its characters sample identities and pronouns without judgement, and I was delighted by it. Lee (e/em/eir or he/him) is a transmasculine writer.
I Kissed Shara Wheeler by Casey McQuiston also has a beautiful, subtle storyline about a character discovering a nonbinary identity. It is in the background, but I loved it. McQuiston (they/them) is nonbinary.
Looking for more books with nonbinary or genderfluid protagonists? Try The Swifts by Beth Lincoln; All Our Hidden Gifts by Caroline O’Donaghue; Symptoms of Being Human by Jeff Garvin; I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver (they/them); The Mermaid, The Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Tokuda-Hall; or Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard by Rick Riordan.
Our Flag Means Death is a TV show, but it also has a fabulous enby character (and a full cast of queer characters). Tragically it just got cancelled, but it is a major favorite of mine.
Nimona by N.D. Stevenson (both the graphic novel and the movie) does a great job of using a fantasy world to parallel the queer (and particularly the trans) experience. Stevenson (I believe Stevenson uses he/him primarily, but I have seen other pronouns used elsewhere) is transmasculine and bigender.
If you’re looking for a great fantasy series with queer POC characters that makes commentary on our world, you can’t go wrong with Infinity Son by Adam Silvera. Silvera is an author who made the jump from contemporary YA (or, at least, YA that is typically shelved as contemporary YA despite its sci-fi leanings) to fantasy. You might be asking if I included this one because it also has an “Infinity [noun]” title. Honestly yes, but I do honestly think you’ll like it. I did.
I haven’t read it yet (it’s on my bedside table, so it’s a matter of weeks if not days) Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao. It gets rave reviews and famously includes queer and polyamorous characters of color. Zhao (they/them) is nonbinary.
Want more trans characters in fantasy? If you haven’t read Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas, do so immediately. It’s about a young man who wants to prove his manhood to his conservative family by participating in a male-only magical ritual to summon a ghost to solve a murder. It’s great. Thomas (he/they) is trans.
You may also want to try Hell Followed with Us by Andrew Joseph White. Please check trigger warnings first, though! There’s a lot of body horror and religious trauma, amongst other things. White is trans (he/him).
Most of the books I’ve read with trans heroes are contemporary YA (and unfortunately mostly white characters, in large part why I was so excited by Infinity Alchemist). In any case, here are a few that I recommend that are by non-cis writers: I Was Born for This by Alice Oseman (she/they), Act Cool by Tobly McSmith (he/him), Melissa by Alex Gino (they/them), and Gender Queer by Maia Kobabe (e/em/eir).
Want another fantasy with a villainous dad? Read Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments series or rewatch the original Star Wars trilogy. Cassandra Clare’s Dark Artifices trilogy has a fantasy love triangle that builds to polyamory, so if you liked Infinity Alchemist you may want to check her out.
Want more YA by Black authors? Try Blood Scion by Deborah Falaye, Legendborn by Tracy Deonn, Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi, or The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna.
Fantasy worlds that play with religion in interesting ways include A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin and Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo.
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