Honestly, if you grew up in the 80s or 90s and had a thing for swords and magic, you probably owe a debt to a girl with purple eyes and a very bad temper. Alanna The First Adventure wasn't just another book on the library shelf. It was a tactical strike against a genre that, until then, basically treated women like porcelain vases or prizes at the end of a quest.
Tamora Pierce didn't just write a story; she built a bridge.
What Most People Get Wrong About Alanna
There’s this weird misconception that Alanna is a "Mary Sue." You’ve heard the term. People use it for any female character who is too good at everything. But if you actually sit down and read the 1983 debut, you realize Alanna is kind of a mess.
She’s short. She’s stubborn to a fault. Most importantly, she’s actually bad at stuff initially.
She isn't a natural with a sword. She has to get up hours before the other pages just to practice boxing with her man-at-arms, Coram, because she’s getting her teeth kicked in by a bully named Ralon. She’s terrified of her own magical Gift.
The book isn't about being perfect; it’s about the sheer, exhausting grind of being "good enough" in a world that wants you to fail.
The Menstruation Scene That Shook the Genre
Let’s talk about the thing everyone remembers. The period.
In a genre where heroes go on ten-day marches without ever mentioning a bathroom, Pierce did something radical. She gave her protagonist her first period.
Alanna is terrified. She thinks she’s dying. It’s messy, it’s inconvenient, and it happens right in the middle of her trying to be a knight.
"It’s just a part of being a woman," the healer Maude tells her, more or less.
For many readers in the early 80s, this was the first time they saw a "real" body in a fantasy world. It wasn't "ladylike." It was just human. Pierce famously said she wanted to write the books she wished she had as a kid—stories where girls did more than just sit around and look pretty while the boys had all the fun.
The Secret Origin of the Lioness
Did you know Alanna The First Adventure was originally a 732-page adult novel?
It’s true.
Pierce wrote the whole Song of the Lioness saga as one giant book called The Song of the Lioness. She couldn't sell it. Publishers in the late 70s didn't know what to do with a gritty, long-winded story about a girl pretending to be a boy. Eventually, an agent suggested she split it up and aim it at the "Young Adult" market—a category that barely existed at the time.
She spent most of the 1980s rewriting it. She cut the fluff. She sharpened the prose. What we got was a lean, fast-paced introduction to Tortall that feels less like a dusty epic and more like a conversation with a friend.
A World That Feels Lived-In
Tortall isn't just a generic Middle-earth clone.
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- The King of Thieves: George Cooper isn't some noble rogue; he’s a guy who runs the slums and has a mother who heals people for coin.
- The Prince: Jonathan of Conté isn't a Prince Charming. He’s a teenager who is sometimes arrogant and doesn't always "get it," even when he’s being a good friend.
- The Magic: It isn't just waving a wand. It’s exhausting. It’s tied to the characters' emotions and their physical health.
Why the Ending Still Hits Different
The final chapters of the book involve a trek to the Black City. It’s a weird, psychedelic shift from the "school story" vibes of the palace.
Alanna has to face the Ysandir, ancient beings that are basically mana-vampires. It’s the first time she really accepts her magic. But notice how it ends?
It isn't a grand parade.
Jonathan finds out she’s a girl. He doesn't care—or rather, he cares, but he doesn't out her. It’s a moment of profound trust that sets the stage for the next three books. Most fantasy of that era would have ended with a marriage proposal or a reveal to the whole kingdom. Pierce keeps it intimate. She keeps it about the friendship.
Practical Takeaways for Modern Readers
If you're picking up Alanna The First Adventure for the first time in 2026, or if you're introducing it to a younger reader, here is how to get the most out of the Tortall universe:
- Don't stop at book one. The prose in the first book is a bit "jerky" (Pierce’s own words, basically). She gets exponentially better as the series progresses. Lioness Rampant is a masterclass in payoff.
- Look for the "Easter Eggs." Pierce built a massive interconnected world. Characters you meet as background pages in Alanna's story become legends or parents in the Protector of the Small or The Immortals series.
- Read between the lines of the "Gender" conversation. While the "girl-disguised-as-boy" trope is common now, notice how Alanna struggles with her identity. She doesn't just want to be a boy; she wants the rights of a boy while still acknowledging she is a woman. It’s a nuanced take on gender roles that was decades ahead of its time.
- Check out the new editions. The 2023 anniversary editions have some incredible cover art that finally moves away from the "vaguely 80s hair" look of the originals.
Tamora Pierce didn't just write a book about a girl knight. She gave permission to an entire generation of writers—from Sarah J. Maas to Leigh Bardugo—to let their heroines be messy, angry, and powerful.
If you want to understand where modern YA fantasy came from, you have to go back to Trebond. You have to watch a girl name herself Alan and pick up a sword that’s way too heavy for her.
Next Step: Pick up a copy of In the Hand of the Goddess immediately after finishing the first book; the transition is seamless because they were originally one story, and the stakes jump from "school bullying" to "kingdom-ending treason" almost instantly.