If Wednesday Addams were to write her own memoir, it’d probably look a lot like Wednesday: A Novelisation of Season One. This isn’t just a book—it’s a moody, macabre mirror held up to the Netflix series, with all the gothic charm and deadpan sass you’d expect. Written by Tehlor Kay Mejia, the novel dives headfirst into Wednesday’s psyche, offering a peek behind the curtain of her stoic facade. Think of it as the show’s inner monologue, scribbled in black ink and sealed with disdain.
Published in 2024, the plot follows Wednesday’s arrival at Nevermore Academy, a school for supernatural misfits where murder mysteries are part of the curriculum and socialising is a punishable offence. While the series gave us brooding cello solos and a wardrobe that screams “funeral chic,” the book lets us crawl inside Wednesday’s mind—where sarcasm is a survival skill and feelings are best left buried. Mejia nails the tone, balancing Wednesday’s razor-sharp wit with moments of reluctant vulnerability that feel oddly touching (but SHUSHH don’t tell her that).
One of the novel’s most delicious contrasts—and let’s be honest, Wednesday thrives on contrast—is the infamous dorm room split between her and Enid Sinclair. On one side: a monochrome mausoleum of black, grey, and gloom, where even the shadows look depressed. On the other: a rainbow explosion that looks like a unicorn sneezed on a Lisa Frank catalogue. It’s less “cohabiting” and more “cold war with glitter.” The book leans into this absurdity with Wednesday’s internal commentary, which is equal parts horror and reluctant fascination. Sharing a room with Enid is like bunking with a disco ball that talks. Their room becomes a battleground of personality—and somehow, a crucible for growth. It’s eerily reminiscent of Elphaba and Galinda’s dorm at Shiz University in Wicked: one half brooding misfit, the other half pastel chaos, and somehow, against all odds (and taste), it works.
Now, let’s be honest: like most movie tie-ins, this novelisation is fairly true to the source material but ultimately feels like a watered-down echo of the show. It’s a weak parody in places—more shadow than substance. An OK read, sure, but clearly aimed at teens and readers who don’t mind their books light on literary weight. Basically, it’s all frosting and no cake: sweet, stylish, and fun to look at, but don’t expect it to nourish your soul or challenge your brain.
In short, if you loved the series but wished Wednesday would open up just a smidge (begrudgingly, of course), this book is your poison. It’s witty, weird, and wonderfully introspective—like a love letter written in invisible ink and sealed with a spider. Just don’t expect hugs. She’s still Wednesday, after all.
Learning through the Library 