The Girl Who Drank The Moon

The antagonist in 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' isn't your typical mustache-twirling villain; it's more of a systemic evil that's been festering for generations. The real villain here is the Witch of the Protectorate, but she's not even a real witch—she's a fabrication created by the Elders to maintain control over the people. These Elders, especially Sister Ignatia, are the true antagonists, manipulating the town's fear of witches to keep them submissive. They perpetuate this lie by sacrificing a baby every year, claiming it's to appease the witch, when in reality, they're just power-hungry tyrants. What makes this so chilling is how ordinary their evil is. Sister Ignatia isn't some supernatural monster; she's a human who's convinced herself that her cruelty is necessary. She's backed by the High Council, a group of equally corrupt leaders who benefit from the suffering of others. The way they gaslight the entire Protectorate into believing in this fake witch is downright psychological horror. It's not just about physical control; it's about dominating minds and hearts, making people complicit in their own oppression. The contrast between the Protectorate's fake witch and the actual magical beings in the story—like Xan, the real witch who's kind and nurturing—is brilliant. It shows how fear is weaponized by those in power. The Elders aren't just villains; they're a commentary on how authoritarian systems operate, using myths and lies to justify their cruelty. That's what makes them so terrifying—they're not fantastical. They're real, and they're everywhere.

I've been following 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' since its release, and it's one of those magical stories that feels like it was made for the screen. As of now, there isn't a movie adaptation, but the book's vivid imagery and enchanting narrative would translate beautifully to film. The story's mix of whimsy and darkness, with its themes of sacrifice and found family, has all the elements of a cinematic masterpiece. I can easily picture the lush forests, the mysterious swamp, and the glowing moon magic coming to life with modern special effects. The characters, especially Luna with her crescent moon birthmark and Fyrian the tiny dragon with a big heart, would be incredible to see animated or portrayed by actors. The book's popularity and award-winning status make it a strong candidate for adaptation, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that some visionary director picks it up soon. The market is hungry for fantasy films that aren't just retreads of familiar franchises, and 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' could fill that gap perfectly with its original world-building and emotional depth. What makes the lack of adaptation surprising is how cinematic the book already feels. Kelly Barnhill's writing paints such clear pictures of the Protectorate's oppressive society contrasting with the vibrant, magical world beyond its borders. The scenes of Luna discovering her powers, or the Witch dispensing justice with her paper birds, practically beg to be storyboarded. Hollywood has been mining middle-grade novels for years, from 'Harry Potter' to 'Percy Jackson', and this seems like an obvious next target. The themes of challenging authority and the cost of suppressing truth feel especially relevant today, which might attract filmmakers looking for substance beneath the fantasy. I'd love to see how a director handles the bittersweet tone - the book balances whimsical humor with some genuinely heavy moments, like the sorrow of the sacrificed mothers or the Witch's lonely existence. It's the kind of adaptation that could appeal to both kids and adults, much like Studio Ghibli's best works.

Luna in 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' isn’t just special—she’s a force of nature wrapped in mystery and magic. From birth, she’s drenched in moonlight, literally absorbing the magic of the moon, which sets her apart from everyone else in the story. This isn’t your typical chosen-one trope; it’s a deep dive into how power and destiny can shape a person. Luna’s magic isn’t just strong; it’s uncontrollable at first, bubbling inside her like a storm. The way she learns to harness it feels raw and real, like watching someone learn to live with a part of themselves they never knew existed. The world around Luna reacts to her in fascinating ways. The townsfolk fear her because of the legends, but those who truly know her see the kindness beneath the power. Her relationship with Xan, the witch who raised her, is heartwarming and complex. Xan doesn’t just teach Luna magic; she teaches her about love, loss, and the weight of choices. Luna’s journey is as much about self-discovery as it is about saving others. The way she balances her humanity with her growing powers makes her one of the most compelling characters I’ve read in years.

I've followed 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' since its release, and its award-winning journey has been impressive. The novel snagged the 2017 Newbery Medal, one of the most prestigious honors in children's literature. This alone speaks volumes about its quality and impact. Beyond that, it also won the 2017 Mythopoeic Fantasy Award for Children's Literature, highlighting its masterful blend of fantasy and storytelling. The book was a finalist for the Andre Norton Award, proving its crossover appeal to both young readers and adults. Its lush prose and imaginative world-building clearly resonated with critics and readers alike. What makes these wins remarkable is how they reflect the book's universal themes. The Newbery Committee praised its exploration of love, sacrifice, and magic, which transcends age barriers. The Mythopoeic Award nod emphasizes its roots in classic fantasy traditions while feeling fresh and original. I love how the awards highlight different strengths—some celebrate its emotional depth, others its creative world. It's rare for a single book to check so many boxes, but 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' managed to do it while feeling effortless and enchanting.

The magic in 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' feels like a living, breathing force woven into the world itself. It's not just spells and potions—it's deeply tied to emotions, stories, and the natural order. Luna, the protagonist, absorbs magic from the moon as a baby, making her power immense but unstable. What fascinates me is how magic behaves almost like a sentient thing in this world. It flows through witches like Xan, who channel it with wisdom and kindness, but it also leaks into ordinary people, creating unexpected consequences. The way Barnhill writes about magic makes it feel ancient and mysterious, like something you might stumble upon in a forgotten forest. The system has rules but isn't rigid. Magic requires sacrifice—Xan gives up her own memories to protect Luna, showing how costly true power can be. There's also this beautiful connection between magic and storytelling. The more people believe in tales of witches and monsters, the more real those things become. It creates this cycle where fear feeds magic, and magic fuels more fear. The madwoman in the tower becomes powerful precisely because everyone believes she's dangerous. What starts as superstition transforms into actual power, which I think is such a clever commentary on how stories shape reality.

I've read 'The Girl Who Drank the Moon' and think it's a fantastic choice for middle schoolers. The book has this magical quality that captures the imagination while dealing with themes that resonate with younger readers. It explores love, loss, and the power of stories in a way that's accessible but never condescending. The protagonist Luna is relatable as she discovers her magical abilities and navigates a world filled with wonder and danger. The darker elements are handled with care, making them thought-provoking rather than frightening. There's a witch who's more maternal than menacing, and the sorrow eaters represent abstract concepts of grief and fear in a way that encourages discussion. The lyrical writing style makes it perfect for reading aloud or independently. What really stands out is how the book celebrates curiosity and bravery, showing young readers that even the smallest person can change the world. The pacing keeps pages turning while leaving room for reflection on deeper messages about family, sacrifice, and the magic within us all.

'Drunk' is the correct past participle of 'drink,' used for completed actions, like 'I have drunk three cups of coffee today.' You might also say, 'He was drunk at the party,' referring to being under the influence of alcohol. In casual conversation, people often say 'drank' for the past tense as in 'I drank a soda yesterday.' So, just remember, 'drank' for past tense and 'drunk' for perfect tense. It's a small but important distinction.

I’ve seen 'Girl on Girl' pop up in a few online spots, and it really depends on how you prefer to read. Major retailers like Amazon and Barnes & Noble usually have it in both paperback and e-book formats. If you’re into supporting indie bookstores, platforms like Bookshop.org let you buy it while contributing to local shops. For digital readers, Kindle and Apple Books are solid options, often with quick delivery. Don’t forget used book sites like ThriftBooks or AbeBooks—they sometimes have great deals on physical copies. Libraries might also offer digital loans through apps like Libby if you’re not looking to purchase. The book’s availability can vary, so checking multiple sources ensures you snag the best format or price.