Honestly, if you grew up in the late 80s or 90s and had a thing for swords, you probably owe a debt to a girl with purple eyes. I’m talking about Alanna: The First Adventure. When Tamora Pierce dropped this book in 1983, she wasn't just writing a story about a girl who wanted to be a knight. She was basically dismantling the "maiden in distress" trope with a blunt practice sword.
You’ve got Alanna of Trebond, a ten-year-old who is absolutely not interested in being sent to a convent to learn how to be a "lady." Her twin brother, Thom, is equally horrified by the idea of becoming a knight. So, they do the most logical, high-stakes thing possible: they swap. Thom goes to learn sorcery, and Alanna crops her hair, binds her chest, and heads to the royal palace in Corus as "Alan."
It sounds like a standard "girl-in-boy's-clothing" plot. But it’s not. It’s gritty, it’s sweaty, and it’s surprisingly real about things most 80s fantasy wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole.
The Book That Refused to Be "Adult"
One of the weirdest facts about this book is that it wasn't supposed to be a series. Originally, Tamora Pierce wrote a 732-page adult novel called The Song of the Lioness. Publishers back then didn't know what to do with it. Too long for kids, too "young" for adults? Her agent suggested splitting it into four books and aiming it at the YA market.
That decision changed everything.
Because it was compressed from a massive tome, the pacing in the first book is lightning fast. You cover four years of page training in a couple hundred pages. Some critics say it’s too "jerky" or feels like a series of vignettes. Maybe. But for a kid reading it, it feels like a fever dream of adventure. One minute she’s getting beat up by the palace bully, Ralon of Malven, and the next she’s fighting ancient demons in a city made of black stone.
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There’s no fluff here. Every chapter is a lesson.
Why Alanna of Trebond Still Hits Different
Most "strong female leads" in modern media are born perfect. They just know how to fight. Alanna? She’s tiny. She’s physically weaker than every other boy in the palace. She has a temper that could melt iron.
She has to work twice as hard just to be half as good. She spends hours in the practice courts after dark because her reach is shorter and her muscles aren't as developed. It’s a masterclass in persistence. You don't root for her because she’s a "chosen one" (though she does have a pretty heavy magical Gift). You root for her because she’s stubborn enough to refuse to lose.
And the magic? She actually hates it at first. She calls it the "Sweating Sickness" of the soul. She’s terrified that using her magic will make her "less" of a warrior. That internal conflict—wanting to be a knight while possessing the powers of a sorcerer—is what makes her feel like a real person instead of a cardboard cutout.
What Most People Get Wrong About the "Alan" Identity
There's this idea that Alanna was "trans-coded" or that the book is a simple gender-swap comedy. It's actually more complicated. Alanna doesn't want to be a boy; she wants the rights of a boy.
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She’s often annoyed by her body. When she gets her first period—a scene that was absolutely groundbreaking for a 1983 fantasy novel—she panics. She thinks she's dying or that her body is betraying her mission. Tamora Pierce didn't shy away from the biology of it. She showed Alanna having to hide menstrual rags in a dormitory full of boys. It’s stressful. It’s gross. It’s human.
"I'm not a boy," Alanna basically screams internally throughout the book, "but I'm a knight."
She eventually finds mentors who see through her, like the court drunkard (and secret genius) Sir Myles of Olau, and the King of Thieves, George Cooper. George is a fan favorite for a reason. He’s the one who teaches her that being a knight isn't just about chivalry; it’s about knowing how to survive in a street fight.
The Duke Roger Problem
Let’s talk about the villain. Duke Roger of Conté is Jonathan’s cousin, and he’s... a lot. He’s handsome, charming, and a powerful sorcerer. Everyone loves him. Everyone except Alanna.
She has a gut feeling that he’s evil. For most of the book, you think she’s just being a paranoid kid. It creates this fantastic tension where the reader is questioning Alanna’s judgment. Is she just jealous? Or is Roger actually a threat to the throne?
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The climax at the Black City of the Ysandir answers that pretty decisively. When Alanna and Prince Jonathan face off against immortal demons, the masks start to slip. Alanna has to use her healing Gift to save Jonathan, and in the process, she has to reveal her secret.
The ending isn't a "happily ever after." It's a "now the real work begins." Jonathan knows she's a girl, he accepts her as his squire, but the rest of the world is still in the dark.
Actionable Insights for Fantasy Fans in 2026
If you’re looking to dive into Tortall, or if you’re a writer trying to capture that same magic, here’s the takeaway:
- Don't ignore the body: Pierce showed that physical limitations and biological realities (like puberty) make a character more relatable, not less.
- The "Found Family" trope is king: Alanna’s relationships with George, Coram, and Myles are the heart of the book.
- Pacing matters: Short, punchy chapters keep the stakes high.
- Start with the "Lioness" quartet: If you want to read in order, start here, even though the Beka Cooper series takes place earlier in the timeline. The publication order is the way to go.
If you've already finished the first book, your next move should be tracking down a copy of In the Hand of the Goddess. That's where the stakes move from "will I get caught?" to "will I survive the Ordeal?" It only gets more intense from here.