Isabella Nagg’s life in the village of East Grasby is far from idyllic. For twenty or so years, she’s endured a mutually disagreeable relationship with her feckless husband, and her beloved pot of basil—the only thing she brought to the marriage—is the closest thing she has to a friend. One day, however, her husband brings her a volume from the local wizard’s Household Gramarye. The wizard has gone missing, and the husband figures he had to bring something home since he’s not getting paid for the mandrake leaves he expected to sell to the mage. Isabella is annoyed—it’s not wise to steal from a wizard—but before she returns the tome, she might as well give the spellbook a little read. After all, what could possibly go wrong?
That’s the inciting incident in Oliver Darkshire’s Isabella Nagg and the Pot of Basil, which is loosely inspired by a character in Boccaccio’s The Decameron (or, more accurately, John Keats’ Boccaccio-inspired poem, Isabella, or the Pot of Basil). In Darkshire’s work, Isabella’s look at the Gramarye upends her unfulfilling life and, among other things, sees her team up with a snarky catlike (but definitely not a cat) grimalkin. It also causes Isabella’s resigned pragmatism, her armor against her unsatisfying life, to crack; perhaps her hopes, dreams, and desires are still within reach. We follow Isabella as she gradually comes into her own, and we meet a delightfully deranged cast of characters along the way, all making do in a magically unhinged world that provides the reader a welcome respite.
Darkshire has previously published Once Upon a Tome, a memoir of his time working as an antiquarian bookseller in London. He made his leap to fiction after that—Pot of Basil is his second published work—though the humor found in his recountings as a rare bookseller leaps over into his debut novel.
The tone of Isabella Nagg’s pages also brings to mind the works of Terry Pratchett, including copious use of footnotes to often humorous effect. One such footnote describing Isabella’s home village, for example, portrays the vibe of the book well:
East Grasby was not a popular place to live. Even if you discounted the murderous goblins and lack of sewage system, you had to navigate wild bears, sentient trees, and a plethora of other wandering threats. Estate agents in more industrialized areas like to refer to the location as ‘quaint,’ or ‘up-and-coming.’
Isabella’s world and Pratchett’s Discworld books are both bolstered by giant creatures—a turtle and four large elephants in Pratchett’s case, a beetle pushing the sun across a sky held up by a giant in Darkshire’s—and both authors sneak surprisingly emotional moments and sharp societal critiques into their mischievous storytelling demeanor.
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Isabella Nagg and the Pot of Basil
Take another example from Isabella Nagg: The character Gwendolyn Gooch—a paragon of capitalistic ambition, who is working on turning the goblins and their respective market of alluring fruits near East Grasby into a profitable enterprise. Gwendolyn is all about business, and thus reacts accordingly when a poor creature begs her for the smallest bit of help:
‘I won’t save your friend and there’s a very good reason for that.’ She tried to break it to the creature, which was clearly on the verge of tears, as gently as she could. ‘You aren’t useful to me, and I don’t have the time. There, there.’
Funny? Yes! A withering appraisal of capitalist society? Also yes!
(I should also note that the goblins’ undiminished desire to have others eat their seductive fruit comes from the creatures actually being a fungus. All the goblins in East Grasby are part of the same mycelium network and, as such, share one collective mind. The alluring fruit, which the goblins often offer for free, makes those who eat it mindless zombies whose decaying bodies serve as fertilizer for future goblins. The parallels of the goblin fungal life cycle to certain trends in our world are worth closing TikTok and putting your phone down for a few minutes to contemplate.)
There are numerous other delightful details around Isabella’s experience after she starts reading the Household Gramayre. In broad strokes, however, the plot largely involves Isabella trying to find her horrible missing husband. She also inadvertently gives her donkey and pot of basil sentience and the power of speech (the donkey names itself Bottom, for reasons), spends more time than the grimalkin would like at some crossroads, and has a run-in with a headless body with a mind of its own. The machinations of Gwendolyn Gooch’s enterprise also permeate the story before twists and turns tie many of these happenings together.
The specifics of the plot, however, are almost beside the point. Isabella’s world is unhinged and more than a bit ridiculous, and it’s a joy in and of itself to read about each character’s respective intricacies and how Isabella deals with them all. What sticks with you after reading is how Isabella comes into her own, and the trials and decisions she must go through to get there.
Isabella Nagg and the Pot of Basil is a delightful read. It will make you laugh and surprisingly tug on your heartstrings. While it’s bittersweet at times, it leaves you with a feeling of hope and, dare I say it in these times, joy. Isabella was trapped, but by the end of the story, becomes free. We as readers share the burgeoning wizard’s emotional journey, and close the book feeling better for it.
Isabella Nagg and the Pot of Basil is published by W.W. Norton.
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Also, “The parallels of the goblin fungal life cycle to certain trends in our world are worth closing TikTok and putting your phone down for a few minutes to contemplate.” is easily the most disturbing thing I’ve read today, and I’ve already read the news headlines.
Thanks! TBR.
Saw this in the bookstore, read the first two pages, got to the footnote, closed the book and marched up to the register. I’m an absolute sucker for humorous footnotes.