Nick’s growth arc in The Nixie’s Song is actually solid—but I have one giant problem with the Spiderwick Chronicles sequel. Let me explain why how you say something matters, especially in books for kids.

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The Nixie’s Song: Does It Belong in Fortress Fiction?

Did you ever hear a song with such a great sound you couldn’t help but love it—until you looked up the lyrics and realized they weren’t what you thought at all? That’s how The Nixie’s Song hit me.

At first glance, it’s charming. Magical creatures, a hidden world, and kids on an unexpected adventure—not quite epic, but the ending hints that it might go there in later books. But once I dug into the tone, language, and the way these characters treat each other, the harmony started to fall apart. And that’s a problem.

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The Basics

The Nixie’s Song is the first book in Beyond the Spiderwick Chronicles, written by Tony DiTerlizzi and Holly Black—the same team behind the original Spiderwick series. DiTerlizzi also illustrates the book. This one came out in 2007, a couple years after the original series wrapped.

Here’s a quick summary: 11-year-old Nick Vargas moves to a new neighborhood after his dad remarries. He’s stuck with his stepsister, Laurie, and annoyed about it. After finding a magical four-leaf clover, Nick gets temporary second sight and meets a Nixie named Taloa, whose pond has been destroyed. She needs help saving her sisters and stopping rampaging giants before they destroy her new home.

Target audience? Kids ages 6–10, grades 1–6. It’s a short, fast read—maybe 90 minutes start to finish.

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What Worked

Let’s start with the good.

The family dynamics are surprisingly realistic. Nick is a kid who’s irritated by his stepsister and clearly doesn’t want to be around her. His dad tries to push them together, telling him not to just play video games alone in his room. That tension feels real. The stepmom doesn’t quite get him, and there’s a classic blended-family unevenness—Nick gets in trouble for things Laurie also did, but only he faces consequences. From personal experience, I know it’s easier for a parent to come down harder on their own kid than on their new stepchild. That rang true.

There’s also a believable contrast between Nick and his older brother Jules, a laid-back teen into surfing, girls, and talking on the phone while gaming. I laughed because I was that teen once, headset on, talking to my girlfriend (now my wife) while playing video games.

Even Nick’s hypocrisy is honest. He mocks Laurie for liking faeries and unicorns, yet he plays fantasy games himself—just the more “masculine” kind with knights and monsters. That detail felt real and kind of funny.

The story does a nice job escalating from mundane family life to magical mayhem. The transition from “normal” to “fae” happens gradually: first the clover, then the glimpses of creatures, then full-blown interaction. I especially liked how Nick and Laurie had to pass the clover between them to share the second sight—that was clever. Eventually Taloa gives them both the sight permanently, and that felt earned.

The danger ramps up, too. Taloa’s sisters are at risk—or already dead. The kids eventually find three of their bodies. It’s grim, but it’s handled with weight. They’re appropriately shocked, and the moment matters. This isn’t just whimsy; the fae world has teeth.

And there’s some clever lore. Giants awaken every 500 years, they eat salamanders, and then they start breathing fire and destroying stuff for… reasons. I don’t fully get it, but hey, fairytale logic. Still, the tension works.

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The Problems

Let’s talk mechanics.

There’s a weird inconsistency in how the second sight works. At first, it’s said that you can only see the fae—and their footprints—if you have the clover. But later, there are mounds of dirt (aka sleeping giants) that Nick’s dad can see just fine, even without the sight. So… are these invisible creatures or not? If the giants are completely hidden, shouldn’t the mounds be invisible too? Or if the mounds are visible, wouldn’t people see footprints? The logic kind of breaks down the more you think about it.

Now let’s talk tone.

The original Spiderwick books had some edge, but this book leans a little too mean. Take Jared, one of the Grace kids from the original series. He shows up here—sullen, aggressive, and clearly dealing with unresolved issues from his family life. Fair enough. But at one point, he grabs Nick and calls him “lard *ss.”

That line killed it for me.

Up to that point, the book handled conflict and character flaws in a grounded, kid-accessible way. Showing Jared as a tough, wounded teen? Fine. Showing Nick as out of shape and in over his head? Great. Nick even ends the book with a quiet realization that he needs to change—and by that, yes, I mean get in better shape. He almost got them all killed. That’s a powerful arc.

But how Jared calls it out matters. There are a dozen ways he could’ve said it—Lardo, Wide Load, anything—but that line felt like it crossed a line. It’s not just teasing. It’s cruel. It doesn’t feel like a moment of realism—it feels like the authors indulging in mean-spiritedness. And that’s what took this out of Fortress Fiction territory for me.

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The Verdict

This book almost works. It has realistic family conflict, a strong arc for Nick, rising danger, and some solid fantasy elements. But the tone doesn’t hold together. There’s a thread of meanness that undercuts the heart. It’s not a dealbreaker for everyone, but it is for me.

In Fortress Fiction, I’m looking for stories with spine—tales that challenge readers while still offering hope, strength, and a moral core. The Nixie’s Song flirts with that standard, but in the end, it doesn’t quite hit the right notes.

It’s not in the dungeon, but it’s not getting into the Fortress either.

What do you think? Am I blowing this out of proportion, or do you see what I mean? Let me know in the comments. Check out all my reviews, book talk, and stories with spine at mjmunoz.com.

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P.S. If you’re looking for something with magical creatures, high stakes, and true heart, check out Mockwing Mayhem. Learn more at grobugs.com.

Drop a comment below or tag me on Twitter @MJ_Scribe—I’d love to hear your take!