With Gifted & Talented, Olivie Blake—best known for the philosophically arcane The Atlas Six—shifts her lens toward a sharp-edged satire dressed in speculative fiction. Here, Blake fuses family drama, dark academia, and science fantasy into an electrifying concoction of neuromancy, corporate rot, and inherited trauma. Set in a world where technological innovation borders on the magical, and ambition is a corrosive inheritance, this novel chronicles the fallout among three gifted siblings after the death of their tech magnate father.
Equal parts Succession, Black Mirror, and Greek tragedy, Gifted & Talented manages to be both cerebral and cynical, often in the same sentence. It’s dense, dazzling, but also divisive—a four-star novel if ever there was one.
Plot: A Will, a War, and a Web of Wreckage
At its core, the book begins with a death and spirals from there. Thayer Wren, founder of Wrenfare Magitech and a sort of Steve Jobs-meets-Ozymandias figure, has died. His three children—Meredith, Arthur, and Eilidh—are each uniquely “gifted,” both in the paranormal and socioeconomic sense. But Blake is quick to underline that these gifts are poisoned chalices.
Meredith, the icy biotech mogul, has supposedly “cured” mental illness with a neural app called Chirp. But beneath her professional sheen lies a secret that could shatter her credibility—and her conscience.
Arthur, a progressive congressman with a flair for oratory and scandal, is literally sparking with power. His electrokinesis acts up when he’s emotionally overloaded, shorting out tech and reputations alike.
Eilidh, the fallen ballerina-turned-corporate ghost, houses a parasite-like entity capable of apocalyptic damage. Her inner demon is not just metaphorical—it’s biblical.
Each sibling wants their father’s approval, inheritance, and legacy—but what they truly need is a reckoning with themselves. The story pivots between POVs, with each chapter deepening the chasm of dysfunction that defines the Wren family.
This isn’t a straightforward inheritance drama; it’s a postmodern labyrinth. Blake tosses in:
Techno-sorcery, rebranded as “neuromancy”
Corporate satire that could make Don DeLillo smirk
Emotional hauntings in the form of imaginary voices (including a particularly biting “Lou” who inhabits each sibling’s psyche like a sarcastic Greek chorus)
Through its time-skipping, narrator-baiting narrative, Gifted & Talented deconstructs the archetype of the gifted child. These characters were once prodigies. Now? They’re painfully human.
Characters: The Not-So-Fantastic Three
Meredith Wren
Imagine Miranda Priestly with a doctorate in neuropsychology and a ghost whispering imposter syndrome into her ear. Meredith is brilliant and brutal, perhaps the most ethically ambiguous of the trio. Her arc is one of slow implosion—exquisitely dressed and horrifyingly precise. Jamie, her ex and nemesis, reappears like a ghost of morality, threatening to upend her delicate empire with truth. Their dynamic hums with intellectual eroticism and mutual destruction.
Arthur Wren
Arthur is a mess—and he knows it. Caught between idealism and self-loathing, he’s a congressman whose powers sabotage his public life. His polyamorous relationship with British socialites adds layers of glamour and chaos, but his most profound connection is with failure. Arthur is trying, and that’s what makes him magnetic. He’s a tragic hero in a Gucci blazer, sparking electrical surges as metaphors for political impotence.
Eilidh Wren
Eilidh is the novel’s quietest devastation. Her relationship with the parasite inside her—a quasi-mythic being that exacts Biblical plagues in exchange for saving her—is the stuff of Gothic horror. Her chapters are introspective, poetic, and at times, terrifying. She is arguably the novel’s soul, if not its conscience.
Writing Style: A Symphony of Snark and Sublime
Olivie Blake writes like she’s channeling both Virginia Woolf and Phoebe Waller-Bridge. The prose veers between lyrical introspection and acerbic wit. Internal monologues are punctuated by imagined voices—especially “Lou,” who operates like a hypercritical inner narrator, mocking the characters’ delusions in real time.
You might underline every fifth sentence just to admire the audacity of her style. And yet, this is also the book’s Achilles heel. For some, the prose may feel too self-aware, too theatrical. The characters rarely speak in plain terms, and the tone is unapologetically stylized—an acquired taste, certainly.
Themes: Trauma, Technology, and the Tyranny of Exceptionalism
Blake is not writing about magic so much as the metaphysics of expectation. Gifted & Talented is a critique of:
Late-stage capitalism (especially the monetization of mental health)
The “gifted kid” pipeline (to burnout, depression, and disillusionment)
Inherited trauma and familial negligence disguised as genius
The siblings’ powers aren’t blessings; they’re burdens. Their lives are warped by external validation and internal rot. At one point, Arthur’s powers are so uncontrollable he avoids public events out of fear he’ll electrocute the AV equipment. Eilidh’s parasite can literally end the world if she gives in. Meredith’s greatest “invention” may be a fraud built on psychic manipulation. Blake seems to ask: What if our brilliance is the very thing that breaks us?
What Worked Exceptionally Well
Genre Fusion Done Right: From speculative tech to paranormal horror, Blake melds genres with fluid mastery. Think Watchmen meets The Secret History.
Complex Female Protagonists: Meredith and Eilidh are flawed, powerful, and psychologically dense. They resist easy likability, which makes them feel alarmingly real.
Narrative Voice & Structure: The use of an omniscient, occasionally snarky narrator breaks the fourth wall and elevates the book into literary metafiction territory.
Blunt Corporate Satire: The tech world skewering is vicious and cathartic. If you’ve ever been in a pitch meeting where someone tried to cure sadness with an app, this book gets it.
Where It Falters
The Density of Prose: While the language is gorgeous, it occasionally overindulges. Paragraphs can spiral into philosophical tangents that stall narrative momentum.
Lack of Emotional Resolution: Some character arcs—especially Eilidh’s—feel deliberately unresolved. This may be thematic, but it risks leaving readers adrift.
Secondary Characters Fade: Cass, Jamie, and Philippa are interesting but underdeveloped compared to the siblings. The world outside the Wren family often feels like an aesthetic backdrop rather than a fully breathing society.
Similar Reads and Literary Kin
The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake – For more high-concept fiction with emotional and intellectual stakes.
Vicious by V.E. Schwab – For a morally gray, power-charged ensemble cast.
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin – Another layered meditation on giftedness and the weight of brilliance.
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro – Similar slow-burning dread and themes of manipulated identities.
Final Verdict: Electrifying, Unstable, Brilliant
Gifted & Talented isn’t a book you read; it’s one you metabolize. It pulses with neurotic energy, literary dazzle, and gut-wrenching emotion. It dares to satirize the institutions we most worship—family, technology, intellect—and reminds us that brilliance often comes with a body count.
While not perfect, it is profound. Its flaws are part of its character, much like its narrators. If you’re looking for a clean arc, tidy resolutions, or feel-good fantasy, this book may challenge your expectations. But if you’re craving a cerebral, genre-defying journey that leaves you scorched and stirred—this one’s for you.