Review: Riviere & the Land of Prayer, Vol. 3 (Light Novel)

Carredura Antiques is at it again, making dreams come true and then laughing maliciously as they turn into nightmares. How much more havoc will this snake oil saleswoman with her more-than-meets-the-eye sancta wares wreak on Cururunelvia, the Land of Prayer? We get a front row seat to the horrific consequences of people’s hopes for recognition, absolution, and a little peace and quiet, as the first half of the volume focuses mainly on Carredura’s dupes, with Riviere, MacMillia, and a certain silver-haired travelling witch barely making an appearance (except to solve the riddle of a haunted house). But never fear! It’s all part of the build-up to a monumental showdown, as our intrepid trio of magically-implicated young ladies closes in on the spiteful hawker who’s been giving sancta a bad name. I say “young”, but in light of the backstory we finally get for Riviere, perhaps that term is not quite so accurate after all. What’s more, Riviere may know a thing or two hundred more about Carredura than she’s been letting on so far. Will she read in her assistants? And if she does, will it be enough to tackle the dark force that threatens the very foundations of the Land of Prayer?

TL;DR:

This volume packs a punch, bringing together the origin stories for both Riviere herself and the Land of Prayer, while also serving up the finale of this spin-off series set in the world of Wandering Witch, the Journey of Elaina. Although not averse to continuing the story, author Jougi Shiraishi shares in the notes at the end that he doesn’t anticipate the series continuing, and honestly, I would agree that this is an excellent end point for what has proven to be an entertaining, at times also clever, and, in the final instance, rather thought-provoking series (more on this below). Not only does this third installment provide a fitting resolution to the overarching plot of the series, answering many of the big questions about the worldbuilding that have smouldered patiently in the background until now, but it also sees MacMillia, our main POV voice, reach a place of maturity and capability that, frankly, far outshines Elaina, and proves her to be a worthy partner in un-crime to the unflappable Riviere. A satisfying conclusion indeed!

(Check out reviews of volume 1 and volume 2.)

Beware: Mild Spoilers Below (but not for the finale itself)

The Beginning: A risky structure and a lesson on grace!

I’ll admit it, this volume nearly lost me after the first few chapters, thanks to the narrative focus on Carredura’s victims. My main enjoyment of this series has always been with MacMillia and her hilarious reactions, incremental growth, and relationship with mentor Riviere. Granted, she shines in the haunted house debacle (and later, with the high school love triangle situation), putting on display her growth in confidence, deductive reasoning, and interpersonal skills; but Riviere practically fades into the background, while Elaina’s typical one-note-ness jumps the shark into a caricature of itself, transforming her into an afterthought. “What is going on with the MCs?!” I was asking myself. I was also questioning their goal, which has informed their actions since the end of volume 1; namely, their drive to bring Carredura to justice. As I wrote in my notes while reading: “I’m not so convinced that Riviere, MacMillia, and Elaina should actually be hunting Carredura down!”

But I think that was actually the point of Shiraishi’s unusual shifting of POV in the first half of the novel. Let me explain. 

The stories about Carredura’s victims are presented in seemingly objective third-person narrative (“he did this; she thought that”). But they also paint a picture of flawed humanity, while skewing toward revealing the protagonists’ shortcomings. These are self-centered, lazy, impatient, judgmental, weak people. There’s nothing straight-up nasty about them, but they’re just…not terribly sympathetic. As I read of their encounters with the dark-clad sancta dealer and her nefarious sancta, I couldn’t help but think they were, more or less, getting what they deserved. In other words, Carredura Antiques was simply in the metaphorical rope-selling business, as in the old adage, “Give ‘em enough rope to hang themselves.” These folks were so caught up in their own desires and delusions that they grabbed hold of Carredura’s rope in a heartbeat and clung tight until it was too late. Her curses, then, were along the lines of “too much of a good thing“ or “be careful what you wish for,” in a rather Aesopian way, teaching the folk of Cururunelvia about the consequences of their thoughts and actions.

And then, well into the second half of the volume, we learn about the founding of The Land of Prayer, and more to the point, about the Witch of Prayer, Cururunelvia herself (yes, in a rather Elaina-like move, she named the country she founded after herself!), and her vision for this world she sought to make possible. And it’s full of grace. 

Cururunelvia’s deepest desire was “to found a country where people can live in peace…where people of every status and tribe can greet each other with a smile.” But there’s more. It wasn’t just any and everyone that Cururunelvia had in mind; her safe haven was to be a land of second chances, a home for the flawed, fallen, and outcast, or, in her words, for “people who have made bad choices, people who have been persecuted. Even people who move along an entirely different ‘timeline’ from those around them.” (p. 146) She didn’t want to filter out the selfish and prideful, the unsympathetic and lazy; instead, she spoke of them with compassion, redefining them in such a way as to foster hope for their transformation, and nominating her land as a place of redemption. True, her vision spanned generations, rather than being centered on individual redemption (or salvation), but still, grace abounded in her vision and intended legacy. In short, the Witch of Prayer was an awful lot more gracious than I toward the kinds of weak characters that I considered to be getting their just desserts at the hands of the villainous Carredura earlier in the novel!

And so as I read the conclusion of this series, I found that Shiraishi had become a kind of Aesop to my foolish woodland creature/self-centered Cururunelvian who needed to be taught a lesson—albeit, thankfully, one about grace. So, although it was risky to switch up the tone and perspective of the storytelling so radically in the final volume, it definitely paid off—for this reader at least—and I must confess, Author-san got me!

The Middle: The problem of perviness

That said, I also struggled with this one at the halfway mark because of the story of the high school love triangle, in the chapter “Burning Love,” and the way in which it normalizes pervy fetishes among underage youth. This was the kind of content that put me off reading the Wandering Witch novels, but which I was so pleased to see was absent from this spin-off series. Until now. Apparently, it was meant to be “light-hearted” (according to Shiraishi’s closing author’s note) and it’s true that there’s nothing explicit; but the very notion that teens would “naturally“ have sexual perversions is deeply problematic and, I would suggest, speaks to the effects of an alarming trend toward increasing(ly explicit) sexual content in YA literature. (This video essay from writer channel The Second Story provides a thoughtful analysis of the trend and its consequences in YA and women’s literature.) Such a disappointment.

The End: Final thoughts and the series as a whole

Despite that wobble in the final leg, altogether, Riviere and the Land of Prayer has been an enjoyable series! I picked it up initially in hopes that the worldbuilding and themes would offer something of depth or insight into prayer and miracles, with the story being set in a land founded on such things, but this was not to be. It never really delved deeper than Aesopian wit, relying heavily on twists delivered in a rather understated manner. Yet, a good two-thirds of these twists proved quite clever, with each volume providing a few, “Ahhh, I see what you did there!” moments in the reading. The revelations were never terribly dramatic or profound, but they were enough to prompt the reader to recognize our own bias, assumptions, or readiness to jump to conclusions, making this quite a playful read, and occasionally a convicting one, too, in small but meaningful ways. And of course, Shiraishi saved the best for last, with the final twist—played on readers like me who began to fall for Carredura’s eye-for-an-eye POV—being the most convicting of all.

All in all, I do not regret my time spent with MacMillia, Riviere, and a certain silver-haired witch. (Is she running late again? Sigh. Probably staring into a mirror…) If you’re looking for a fantasy slice-of-life with a dash of cleverness that will test your default settings when it comes to extending grace or judgment toward flawed characters, be sure to check it out! There’s a manga adaptation, too.

Riviere and the Land of Prayer is published by Yen Press.

claire
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