Morgenstern paints her world with carefully chosen hues, (“flames the color of a ripe pumpkin;” “a deeper, sparkling crimson” are phrases she ties to the circus’s opening night) and when she delves into the visceral, from the sumptuous “midnight dinners” with course after course of mouth-watering food, or when Celia demonstrates the magic behind the illusions to Marco with a winceinducing dagger stab to her hand (it heals up just fine, thank you), she hits all manner of grace notes.

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