Reviews tagging 'Classism'

The House at the Edge of Magic by Amy Sparkes

1 review

adventurous funny hopeful lighthearted mysterious fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven: A mix
Strong character development: Complicated
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

Characters – 7/10 
Nine is spunky and street-smart, but sometimes her “I hate everything” schtick feels a little too dialed in. Yes, we get it, she’s had a rough life and trust is hard. But there were moments I wanted her to say something—anything—besides “MOVE!” and “I’m FINE!” like a broken sarcasm bot. The rest of the cast? A lovable bunch of walking punchlines. Flabberghast is a walking theatre kid trope in wizard robes, Eric is essentially a six-year-old in troll form, and Spoon is a glorified comedy sketch. They’re fun, sure, but they’re not exactly deep. If one of them had died (permanently), I wouldn’t have been emotionally wrecked—I’d have shrugged and said, “Well, at least that cupboard’s less crowded.”  
Atmosphere/Setting – 6/10 
The House is peak madcap nonsense, but it's also exhausting. It's like being trapped inside a magical escape room designed by someone with too much caffeine and not enough impulse control. Yes, it’s full of zany flourishes—singing toilets, weaponized libraries, mood-swinging staircases—but it sometimes felt like Sparkes was more interested in piling on weird than building an actual cohesive world. Outside the House? Practically nonexistent. The city is a grey smear of “generic poor-person alley,” and every scene not set in the House feels like a placeholder until we can get back to the next magical meltdown.  
Writing Style – 8/10 
Sparkes has a snappy, confident voice and can definitely land a joke—but there are only so many wacky antics and “oi, you!” hijinks I can stomach before the charm wears thin. The tone wavers between emotionally earnest and straight-up slapstick, and while that usually works, sometimes it undercuts itself. A poignant moment will land and be immediately followed by a farting sugar bowl or a troll waddling around in a tutu. It’s like she doesn’t trust the reader to sit with a serious beat for more than three seconds without throwing in another magical pratfall. I loved the pacing and clever wordplay, but a little restraint would have gone a long way.  
Plot – 6/10 
The premise is gold: cursed house, chaotic magic, accidental chosen one. But the structure? A little wobbly. The curse-breaking process is mostly a wild goose chase that boils down to a Very Special Episode of Say Sorry or Everyone Dies. The villain reveal (spoiler: Flabberghast’s sister!) lands with a thud—because of course the big bad is a misunderstood sibling with fabulous hair and revenge issues. The final “twist” of the magic words being an anagram? Cute, but hardly groundbreaking. Honestly, for all the build-up, the climax felt like a mild shrug dressed up in sparkles.  
Intrigue – 7/10 
Yes, I wanted to know what happened next. But not because the mystery was good—I just wanted to see what unhinged nonsense Sparkes would throw at me next. This book’s main appeal is its chaos, not its suspense. Once I realized the plot was basically a series of “and then this happened” loops strung together by Nine’s grumpy commentary, the tension deflated. I never truly worried about anyone’s fate. The worst-case scenario seemed to be temporarily becoming a rubber duck with a monocle. Oh no! How ever will they survive?  
Logic/Relationships – 5/10 
Let’s talk about “logic” in a book where socks are cursed and libraries stage coup attempts. Worldbuilding is more of a suggestion here. Why does the House need a curse-breaking chosen one but also respond to anyone randomly knocking on the door? Why is the witch’s plan so convoluted when she clearly could’ve just squashed everyone on page 50 and been done with it? As for relationships, Nine’s arc with Eric wants to be heartwarming, but it’s rushed and undersold. She goes from "don’t touch me or I’ll bite you" to "fine, I’ll save you from magical petrification" with the emotional weight of a shrug and a boiled sweet.  
Enjoyment – 7/10 
I did enjoy this, but not without raising an eyebrow every few chapters. It’s zany, it’s creative, and it’s got some heart, but it leans so hard into whimsy that it sometimes trips over itself and faceplants in a pile of plot holes and tonal whiplash. I’d recommend it—but with a warning: it’s like drinking fizzy candy tea out of a leaky teapot while a wooden spoon tap dances on your head. Some people will love it. Others, like me, will want to shout, “ENOUGH WITH THE TALKING FURNITURE, PLEASE!”  
Final Verdict: A charmingly chaotic sugar rush of a book that occasionally tries too hard to be quirky and forgets to make actual sense. But hey—at least it’s not boring.

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