Robin McKinley’s Sunshine is a dangerous novel; the characters and world it leads its reader into are, simply, literally and figuratively, magic. Once picked up, it is impossible to put down, and it’s one of those books that forces you to wander about the house tripping down stairs and making sandwichs without looking, just to make sure you can keep turning the pages. Oh, and it will make you hungry, trust me, hungry and craving decadent sweets and baked goods, starving for the rest of the story, desperate to know what happens next.

We begin with Rae, a young woman who feels ordinary. A baker by trade, she willingly and joyously gets up before dawn six days a week to prepare cinnamon rolls, muffins, and desserts that tempt people from far and wide to her step-father Charlie’s coffeehouse. She has a normal life, a (mostly) normal boyfriend, a normal, if tetchy, relationship with her mother – oh, and her now-absent father is a famous warlock, and, in the world she lives in, the vampires and the humans are at war. So, not so normal, then, and certainly not ordinary.

Rae’s not-so-normal life gets upended in dramatic and dangerous fashion when she is kidnapped to be used as a pawn in a war between two vampires. Trapped in a room, chained to the wall, Rae’s only hope of escape lies in her own small abilities and the self-control of a wounded, and hungry, vampire. Her sense of humour, her love for her family, her deep need to nurture and feed those around her are all sources of strength, as powerful as any magical heritage she may have. In typical McKinley fashion, Rae is not a heroine that waits to be saved, she has more determination, and more courage, than that, and in spite of her conviction that she is nobody special, and certainly not a hero, she finds the strength to save not only herself but also her friends, not only her life but also her integrity.

The vampires in Sunshine are not humans-only-irresistible. They are Other, and uncomfortable, and vaguely repellent, and McKinley is not afraid to insist that her readers react the way her characters do. Con is not merely stronger than a human would be, faster than a human would be, he is manifestly not-human in his motives, his reactions, and his priorities. Rae must learn to negotiate with the unknown, to find the ability within herself to protect what she loves, to balance what she can do with what she should do. She has the potential for great power, to do great things, but she must choose what to do, and look at what it means to be great and powerful, and understand what it means to choose: whether the choice is salvation or destruction. In a world that is sliding into the dark, internal balance may be more important than even Rae realizes:

“My sun-self, my tree-self, my deer-self. Don’t they outweigh the dark self?”

As always, McKinley creates a compelling narrative, a deep and fascinating world, and characters that feel real enough to stride off the page. Sunshine is one of those books that clarifies the human condition, that asks questions that resonate well after the last page is read. It is one of those books that is so good, that what is read after must be chosen very carefully; there are few books that can live up to the comparison. It is one of those stories that speaks about what it means to be human, to be loved, to be powerful. And it is one of those books that you will read again, for the sheer pleasure of the language, and give away, to make sure others have the chance to experience it, and keep close, because it reminds you what it means to write a novel as close to perfect as anyone ever gets.

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