Honestly, Alix E. Harrow’s debut novel shouldn't have worked as well as it did. Most "books about books" feel a bit like they’re smelling their own ink, but The Ten Thousand Doors of January managed to dodge the usual clichés of the portal fantasy genre. It’s messy. It’s lush. It’s occasionally heartbreaking.
You’ve probably seen it on every "Best of" list since 2019. It was a Hugo, Nebula, and Locus finalist for a reason. But beyond the awards, the book tapped into a very specific, very human ache: the feeling that the world we live in is just a little too small, a little too gray, and that there must be a way out if we only knew where to look.
January Scaller is our guide through this. She’s a "curiosity" herself, living in a sprawling mansion filled with artifacts, under the thumb of a man who values objects far more than people. When she finds a book that smells of salt and old stories, everything breaks open.
The Ten Thousand Doors of January is secretly a book about power
On the surface, it’s a whimsical adventure. Doors in the middle of nowhere! Secret worlds! A loyal dog named Bad! But if you look closer, Harrow is doing something much more cynical and smart. She’s writing about who gets to control the narrative of history.
Mr. Locke, January’s guardian, represents the New England Archaeological Society. These guys aren't just collectors; they are "order-makers." They want to close the doors because doors represent chaos. Doors represent the messy, unmapped parts of the world that can't be taxed, colonized, or put in a display case.
Think about it.
If you can find a door to another world, you aren't beholden to the rules of this one. That’s terrifying to people in charge. January’s journey isn't just about finding her parents or finding a magical realm; it’s about reclaiming her right to be "disorderly."
The book is set in the early 1900s, a time when the world was being rapidly "discovered" (read: exploited) by Western powers. January is a person of color in a world that wants to categorize her as an exotic specimen. Her struggle to find a Door is a literalization of the struggle to find a space where she isn't defined by someone else’s labels.
Why the "Doors" aren't just Narnia rip-offs
We’ve all seen the "wardrobe to another world" trope. It’s been done to death. What makes the doors in The Ten Thousand Doors of January different is their fragility.
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In Narnia, the wardrobe is a stable bridge. In Harrow’s world, doors are fleeting. They are made of "elsewhere." They can be a literal wooden frame in a field, or they can be a crack in a wall that only opens when the light hits it at a specific angle. They require a certain kind of "thinness" in the world to exist.
Harrow’s prose reflects this. It’s dense and poetic—sometimes maybe a bit too much for some readers—but it serves a purpose. It makes the world feel tactile. You can practically smell the copper and the sea air.
The role of the "Written Word"
One of the coolest mechanics in the book is how January realizes she can influence reality by writing in the margins of the blue book she finds. It’s meta. It’s a book about a girl reading a book who realizes she’s in a book (sorta).
This isn't just a plot device. It’s a nod to the power of storytelling. If you don’t like the story you’re in, you have to write a new one. January literally writes doors into existence. It’s a beautiful metaphor for agency, especially for someone who has been treated as a background character in her own life.
What most readers miss about Ade and Julian
The love story between January’s parents, Ade and Julian, is the engine that drives the plot, but it’s often overshadowed by January’s own coming-of-age.
Julian is a "shifter," someone who travels between worlds to find treasures for Locke. Ade is a woman from a world that is vastly different from our own. Their romance is tragic because it’s a romance between people who literally belong to different realities.
Their story highlights the cost of the Doors. Opening a door isn't free. It costs time. It costs safety. It often costs the people you love. While January is the hero, her parents are the cautionary tale. They show that while the "Great North Road" or the "City of Brass" might be beautiful, the transition between them is where the real scars happen.
Is the book actually "Historical Fiction"?
It’s a weird hybrid.
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Harrow uses real historical contexts—the rise of the middle class, the stagnation of the British Empire, the specific social hierarchies of the American South—to anchor the fantasy. By grounding the "impossible" in the very "possible" reality of 1901, the magic feels heavier.
When January is running through the streets or hiding in a dusty attic, you feel the weight of the era. The racism, the sexism, and the rigid class structures act as the "walls" that the Doors are trying to break through.
Common criticisms and where they come from
Not everyone loves this book. If you check Goodreads or StoryGraph, the main complaint is usually about the pacing.
The middle drags.
It does.
Harrow spends a lot of time on the "book within a book" structure. We read long passages of the history of the Doors alongside January. Some people find this immersive; others find it a distraction from the main plot.
Another sticking point is the prose style. It is unapologetically purple.
- "The world was once a place of thresholds..."
- "Words and their meanings have a weight..."
- "A door is a choice..."
If you like your fantasy lean and mean (think Brandon Sanderson or Joe Abercrombie), this might feel a bit flowery. But if you grew up on The Secret Garden or A Wrinkle in Time, it’s like coming home.
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How to actually apply the themes of the book to your life
You don't need a literal blue book and a magical inkwell to find "Doors." The core message of The Ten Thousand Doors of January is about perception.
Look for the "Thin Places"
In the book, doors appear in places that are neglected or "in-between." In real life, these are the moments of transition. Career shifts, travel, or even just a new hobby. These are the moments where your reality is most malleable.Audit your "Guardians"
Who are the Mr. Lockes in your life? Who is trying to keep your world small so it’s easier for them to manage? Identifying the people or institutions that benefit from your lack of imagination is the first step to finding an exit.Write your own margins
January didn't just follow the rules of the book she found; she changed them. If you’re stuck in a narrative—"I’m not a creative person," "I’m stuck in this town forever"—start writing the counter-narrative. Even if it’s just for yourself.Embrace the "Disorder"
Growth is messy. The "Order-Makers" in the novel are the villains for a reason. Perfection is static. Change is loud, confusing, and often involves a very large dog knocking things over.
Final thoughts on the legacy of the story
Ultimately, The Ten Thousand Doors of January isn't just a fantasy novel. It’s a manifesto for the curious. It’s a reminder that the world is only as solid as we believe it to be.
If you’ve already read it, it’s worth a re-read with an eye toward the political subtext. If you haven't, go in expecting a slow burn. Don't rush it. Let the salt air and the smell of old paper sink in.
Next steps:
Check out Alix E. Harrow's short stories, like A Witch's Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies, which acts as a spiritual predecessor to this novel. After that, look into the concept of "Liminal Spaces" in photography and architecture; it’s the real-world aesthetic that inspired the "thinness" of January’s doors. Finally, start a "commonplace book" where you record the weird, unexplainable things you see in your own neighborhood—you might find your own door sooner than you think.