In the ethereal landscape of dark academia fantasy, few authors manage to weave the delicate threads of psychological depth, Gothic atmosphere, and academic intrigue as masterfully as Ava Reid. A Theory of Dreaming, the stunning conclusion to the duology that began with A Study in Drowning, plunges readers back into the mist-shrouded world of Llyr, where the line between reality and dream has never been more perilously thin.
When Victory Feels Like Loss: The Weight of Truth
The novel opens in the aftermath of Effy and Preston’s triumph over the Fairy King and their explosive revelation about Emrys Myrddin’s literary fraud. Yet Reid skillfully demonstrates that victory often comes at a devastating cost. Effy, now the first woman enrolled at the University of Llyr’s literature college, finds herself stripped of the very thing that once defined her—her ability to escape into fantasy. Without the Fairy King’s dark embrace or the refuge of her imagination, she confronts a harsh reality where “who is she without her stories?”
Reid’s portrayal of Effy’s mental health struggles is both unflinching and deeply compassionate. The author doesn’t romanticize depression or present it as some Gothic ornament. Instead, she shows us a young woman grappling with the terrifying emptiness that follows when your coping mechanisms are stripped away. The pink and white pills that line Effy’s dresser become silent witnesses to her desperate attempts to find stability in a world that seems determined to see her fail.
The Academic Battleground
The university setting transforms from a hallowed hall of learning into a battlefield where Effy must prove her worth daily. Reid captures the suffocating pressure of being the “first”—the weight of representing all women while simultaneously being scrutinized by those waiting for her to stumble. The classroom scenes crackle with tension, particularly when Effy struggles with scansion, a technical skill that becomes emblematic of her feeling like an outsider in her own academic discipline.
The author’s background in literature shines through her authentic portrayal of academic politics and the way intellectual spaces can become weapons of exclusion. Professor Tinmew’s cold formalism and the students’ barely concealed hostility create an atmosphere thick with misogyny and class prejudice.
Preston’s Descent: The Seduction of Power
While Effy loses her dreams, Preston finds himself drowning in them. His visions of an underwater palace where he reigns as king represent one of the novel’s most compelling psychological explorations. Reid doesn’t simply present these dreams as supernatural occurrences—they become metaphors for the intoxicating nature of power and belonging.
Preston’s character arc reveals the dangerous allure of fantasy when reality becomes unbearable. His mixed heritage—son of both Llyr and Argant in a world torn by war—makes him a perpetual outsider. The dreams offer him not just escape, but dominion. Reid’s exploration of how oppression can make us susceptible to the very power structures we claim to oppose feels particularly relevant.
The Complexity of Love Under Pressure
The relationship between Effy and Preston deepens and complicates beautifully throughout the novel. Reid avoids the trap of treating their romance as a cure-all for their individual struggles. Instead, she shows how mental health challenges and external pressures can strain even the most devoted partnerships. Their love story isn’t about saving each other—it’s about choosing to stay, to fight, and to believe in something better even when the world seems determined to tear them apart.
The proposal scene, set against the backdrop of war and uncertainty, becomes a moment of radical hope. Preston’s mother’s ring, threaded on a simple silver chain so Effy can wear it despite her trauma-induced aversion to rings, symbolizes adaptation and understanding rather than conquest.
The Gothic Atmosphere: Reid’s Masterful World-Building
Reid’s prose maintains the lush, atmospheric quality that made A Study in Drowning so memorable. Her descriptions of the university in winter, with its “yellow-stoned buildings rise up from the earth like old grave markers,” create a sense of ancient weight and hidden secrets. The mist-covered lake, the abandoned astronomy building, and the ever-present threat of war contribute to an environment where reality itself seems unstable.
The author’s use of epigraphs from Angharad’s diary and Laurence Ardor’s poetry serves multiple functions—they provide historical context, foreshadow events, and create a sense of literary authenticity that grounds the fantasy elements in believable academic scholarship.
Dreams as Literary Device
The underwater palace that haunts Preston’s dreams serves as both plot device and powerful metaphor. Reid uses these sequences to explore themes of belonging, power, and the seductive nature of fantasy. The palace represents everything Preston has been denied—acceptance, authority, reunion with his dead father—while simultaneously becoming a prison that threatens to separate him from the real world and the woman he loves.
Political Undercurrents: War and National Identity
The ongoing conflict between Llyr and Argant provides more than just backdrop—it becomes a lens through which Reid examines nationalism, propaganda, and the way stories shape national identity. The destruction of the Sleeper Museum and the revelation that Aneurin the Bard was a composite figure rather than a real person strikes at the heart of Llyrian mythology.
Reid’s handling of these themes demonstrates sophisticated political awareness. She shows how national myths serve both to unite and divide, how they can justify violence while providing comfort to those who need something to believe in. Preston’s realization that “truth withered in the face of power” becomes a central tension throughout the novel.
Critiques: Where the Dream Falters
While A Theory of Dreaming succeeds on many levels, it occasionally struggles under the weight of its own ambitions. The pacing in the middle section slows considerably as Effy’s depression deepens, and while this serves the character development, it can make for challenging reading. Some readers may find the repetitive nature of Effy’s struggles exhausting, though this mirrors the reality of mental health challenges.
The resolution, while emotionally satisfying, feels somewhat rushed compared to the careful build-up. Reid introduces several plot threads—particularly around Master Gosse’s motivations and the full extent of the underground palace’s power—that could have used more development.
Technical Elements and Style
Reid’s prose style has matured since the first book, showing greater confidence in balancing lyrical description with narrative momentum. Her dialogue feels authentic to the characters and time period, though occasionally the modern sensibilities of her protagonists clash with the seemingly historical setting.
The author’s academic background serves her well in crafting believable scholarly discussions and university politics, though some of the technical literary analysis may fly over the heads of readers less familiar with formal poetic criticism.
The Power of Myth-Making
Perhaps the novel’s greatest strength lies in its exploration of stories themselves—their power to heal and harm, to unite and divide, to provide comfort and justify cruelty. Reid suggests that while we may need to tear down false myths, we must be prepared to build something better in their place.
The peace treaty that ends the war between Llyr and Argant comes not through military victory but through the collapse of the mythologies that sustained the conflict. It’s a hopeful ending that suggests truth, however painful, provides a foundation for genuine peace.
Similar Reads: For Those Enchanted by Academic Gothic
Readers who find themselves drawn to Reid’s blend of academic intrigue and Gothic atmosphere in A Theory of Dreaming might explore:
- The Secret History by Donna Tartt – The gold standard of dark academia
- Babel by R.F. Kuang – Academic fantasy with serious political undertones
- The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern – Dreamlike storytelling and mysterious libraries
- The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow – Portal fantasy with academic elements
- Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia – Atmospheric horror with feminist themes
Final Verdict: A Worthy Conclusion
A Theory of Dreaming serves as a worthy conclusion to Effy and Preston’s story, even if it doesn’t quite reach the heights of its predecessor. Reid has crafted a novel that refuses easy answers, instead offering the harder truth that healing is possible but never simple, that love matters but isn’t magic, and that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stay present in a reality that hurts.
A Theory of Dreaming succeeds as both a love story and a meditation on the power of stories themselves. Reid’s unflinching portrayal of mental health struggles, combined with her lush Gothic prose and complex world-building, creates a reading experience that lingers long after the final page.
For fans of the first book, this conclusion provides emotional satisfaction while exploring deeper themes of identity, power, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive. New readers should definitely start with A Study in Drowning, as this sequel builds heavily on the emotional and plot foundations established in the first volume.
A Theory of Dreaming proves that sometimes the most important journey isn’t toward some distant fantasy kingdom, but back to ourselves and the people who choose to love us despite—and because of—our flaws. In a literary landscape often focused on conquest and power, Reid offers something rarer: a story about the courage required simply to exist authentically in an imperfect world.