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lolacep124's review against another edition
3.0
When you get an email from NetGalley about an upcoming title, you get excited to request a galley. (This excitement can be shattered if the title isn't available to request--then why the heck did you send out this email, NetGalley?!--or you request a galley and get an email later saying your request was denied).
When you get an email later from NetGalley with a review from Tamora Pierce saying "Read This!", you get on that like white on rice. When you request a galley and are granted a galley, you thank the gods and read that galley ASAP. Don't take bathroom breaks, food breaks, family wedding breaks--the Queen has spoken and you MUST read this book.
When the book opened with Sal hiding in the trees, waiting for a carriage to rob, I got some serious Robin Hood vibes--maybe because I miss seeing Robin on Once Upon A Time. After Sal robs the carriage, and has a lovely encounter with the carriage passenger Elise, and returns to the city to visit her crime boss, I got some Six of Crows vibes. Leigh Bardugo is a powerhouse, so I was so excited for some possible Six of Crows resemblance. As the book progressed, I stopped comparing MoS to other books. MoS is its own work. A gender-fluid thief, in a world now devoid of magic, who trains to be an assassin for the Queen? Hells yeah.
The number system for the assassin hopefuls was not great, but that could be because I struggle with numbers daily.
The world building felt more tell than show, and that made it difficult for me to keep track of everything and everyone.
Maud was my favorite person, followed closely by sass-master Ruby.
The ending sets up a second book, I believe this will be a duology, and I will read the second book--when I get around to it.
Overall, I was entertained but would have liked more show and less tell. That would have made the book so much stronger and would have landed it a place on my favorites shelf, next to Tamora Pierce.
When you get an email later from NetGalley with a review from Tamora Pierce saying "Read This!", you get on that like white on rice. When you request a galley and are granted a galley, you thank the gods and read that galley ASAP. Don't take bathroom breaks, food breaks, family wedding breaks--the Queen has spoken and you MUST read this book.
When the book opened with Sal hiding in the trees, waiting for a carriage to rob, I got some serious Robin Hood vibes--maybe because I miss seeing Robin on Once Upon A Time. After Sal robs the carriage, and has a lovely encounter with the carriage passenger Elise, and returns to the city to visit her crime boss, I got some Six of Crows vibes. Leigh Bardugo is a powerhouse, so I was so excited for some possible Six of Crows resemblance. As the book progressed, I stopped comparing MoS to other books. MoS is its own work. A gender-fluid thief, in a world now devoid of magic, who trains to be an assassin for the Queen? Hells yeah.
The number system for the assassin hopefuls was not great, but that could be because I struggle with numbers daily.
The world building felt more tell than show, and that made it difficult for me to keep track of everything and everyone.
Maud was my favorite person, followed closely by sass-master Ruby.
The ending sets up a second book, I believe this will be a duology, and I will read the second book--when I get around to it.
Overall, I was entertained but would have liked more show and less tell. That would have made the book so much stronger and would have landed it a place on my favorites shelf, next to Tamora Pierce.
emeryrachelle's review against another edition
4.0
In Mask of Shadows, Sal—who uses and presents as they, he, or she depending on their identity each day—grew up poor and traumatized. They seize the chance to change their life in a competition to become one of the queen's prized assassins. In the process, they (with readers) are exposed to more than enough blood and guts, but also intrigue, heart, and seduction.
I wouldn't call this book a romance, but it has enough to satisfy my taste. The relationship between hardened thief Sal and sweet, soft Elise is well-written and fun to experience. This book is about more than love, though. It's about identity, and values, and the definition of home.
The worldbuilding feels natural. We're given enough detail to carry the story and keep us invested, without too much information being dumped at any one time. Every progression feels organic as the story carries forward.
The LGBTQ+ representation here is spot on, and built well into the realistic world. Sal is relatable to me as a nonbinary person, with perhaps a bit more confidence in their presentation than I've yet developed.
The ending was unexpected in many ways, though I did call a few things ahead of time. It closed enough story lines to feel like a satisfying conclusion, but left enough threads hanging for a seamless transition into book two. Onward this reader presses!
I wouldn't call this book a romance, but it has enough to satisfy my taste. The relationship between hardened thief Sal and sweet, soft Elise is well-written and fun to experience. This book is about more than love, though. It's about identity, and values, and the definition of home.
The worldbuilding feels natural. We're given enough detail to carry the story and keep us invested, without too much information being dumped at any one time. Every progression feels organic as the story carries forward.
The LGBTQ+ representation here is spot on, and built well into the realistic world. Sal is relatable to me as a nonbinary person, with perhaps a bit more confidence in their presentation than I've yet developed.
The ending was unexpected in many ways, though I did call a few things ahead of time. It closed enough story lines to feel like a satisfying conclusion, but left enough threads hanging for a seamless transition into book two. Onward this reader presses!
emotionalbookreport's review against another edition
3.0
The characters are likeable, the story is mostly intriguing, but also bland at a lot of points. I didn't realize this was a series? I don't know how they're going to keep it interesting.
chanteld's review against another edition
2.0
The pacing was slow. And I'm still confused by aspects of the world. I what or who are the shadows? Somehow this book would have benefited from third person narration. Sal really didn't do a good job at explaining things.
rokinkrys56's review against another edition
4.0
I loved this book. It was written well and you really feel for Sal. Also Sal is nonbinary which is a mega bonus. That is handled SUPER well.
*SPOILERS BELOW HERE*
My main issue is that the world is so big that sometime the things that happen seem weird. It's almost like the author forgot to tell us some things. Also, why kill Ruby! Why kill my favorite character? Ugh! That killed me. The world building is the reason I took off the star not the Ruby death, btw.
*SPOILERS BELOW HERE*
My main issue is that the world is so big that sometime the things that happen seem weird. It's almost like the author forgot to tell us some things. Also, why kill Ruby! Why kill my favorite character? Ugh! That killed me. The world building is the reason I took off the star not the Ruby death, btw.
goosemixtapes's review against another edition
2.0
love SFF books about trans people. would love to read a good one someday.
to be quite honest, i probably should have DNF'd this. i was iffy about the concept going in (sarah j maas* couldn't sell me on "competition to become the newest royal assassin where almost anyone can join, as if that's safe or sensible" and neither could this), and the first chapter wasn't... great. characters floating in a blank void of a setting; very little immediate world- or character-building; passable prose. and things didn't really get better after that; every time i put this book down, i forgot i was reading it. but, gang, i must make this clear: nobody ever writes about trans people. ever. so i felt, like, obligated to finish this.
so i'll address the trans point first: the representation is fine. it's literally fine. a few of the reviews complain that sal talks about their genderfluidity "too much," to which i say: literally where? they bring it up, like, three times because people ask their pronouns. in fact, i would have loved to see more about how gender works in this world, something more than "when i wear a tunic i'm a guy and when i wear a dress i'm a girl :)," which, though not terrible, is reductive and unenlightening about any gender-based worldbuilding there might be. i think it's possible to create a world without transphobia while also allowing a trans character to have thoughts and feelings about their gender (though, to tell the truth, i was never even sure if women are oppressed in this world, or if homophobia exists; elise sort of alludes to her father not encouraging her attraction to women, but so vaguely that i'm not confident writing this sentence).
about the worldbuilding: there isn't much, and the information that does exist is offered in the least helpful way possible. there's a difference between portioning out information slowly and just saying things and delaying their explanations. as an example: page sixteen offers, out of nowhere, this paragraph:
things mentioned before this point in the book:
- erlend (a country)
- nacea (also a country)
things not mentioned, unless you count literally one sentence even less illuminating than the above:
- the shadows
this had me flipping back through the book to see if i had missed something. nope. the shadows aren't explained until page 23, which--sure, but why not? waiting to explain this information doesn't alter the pace, suspense, or flow of the book; it just... causes artificial suspense, i guess? this happened multiple times (i had a question; the book answered it a few pages later; i found myself wondering why the book didn't just... explain things properly the first time), and it honestly isn't that egregious a writing problem, but i couldn't help comparing this to books like gideon the ninth, which have complex worldbuilding parceled out in small bits, but in a distinctly purposeful manner colored by the point of view character's knowledge. versus this book, which just repeats the same information in clumps over and over (sometimes in adjacent chapters) because miller doesn't know how to weave it into the plot effectively. i guess you could argue it's not fair to compare this to GTN, as GTN is an adult novel and also nearly fucking flawless. take... i don't know. six of crows. six of crows doesn't do this, because leigh bardugo, though her books aren't perfect, is a good writer.
and linsey miller--at least in this book--just isn't. not a horrible writer, but not a good one either. this book could have used some more rounds of editing for prose alone; i stopped keeping count of times i just fully failed to follow the train of thought from one paragraph to the next. take page 99:
how the fuck did we get from "servants are treated decently here" to "i am the only one who can keep myself safe," and do i even care? the prose isn't particularly pretty, either; it abounds with lines like "A servant wearing a plain gray uniform trimmed in blue with no jewelry or weapons bowed her head to me," AKA clunky awkward lines that need at least two more commas. (so many missing commas in this book, dear god. where was miller's editor.)
the characters are mediocre. i struggled to keep track of who was who, which maybe is on me for not putting more work into it, but i never felt inclined to put that work in when i didn't care about the story. add in that every member of the competition wears a mask and goes by a number instead of their name, and i was completely disengaged from the supporting cast. i understand why the mask/number thing is the case (for the purposes of the assassination competition), but it's a hell of a lot harder to get attached to a faceless nameless nothing figure.
except sal, too, is a non-character, despite having a name and presumably a backstory. their goal in the first chapter is a vague and watery desire to join the army (why? who knows), which immediately switches to a dogged desire to become one of the queen's assassins so they can enact revenge on the nobles who fucked their country over. sure! good for them! but this desire for revenge is never grounded in real memories of their past or grief that felt tangible. their siblings got murked, if i remember correctly, but we don't get those siblings' names. sal is a nacean patriot, but i know nothing about the culture of nacea. everything sal does is for the plot, not because they actually want it; i wrote in my notes that "this book feels pantsed," and i think that's why, because no action really has weight.
i will admit i feel bad for tearing this book apart, because... again, nobody writes about trans people! and i hate to be more critical of a book from what i think is a relatively small press than i am about, like, stephen king. but, as i've said before, i don't read stephen king, so i haven't got shit to say. i did read this and it was mid. not horrendous, just entirely flavorless and forgettable, a muddle of generic fantasy tropes that i found entirely unengaging. two stars for trans people and because it didn't make me angry; it failed to evoke any emotion in me at all.
*the sarah j maas comparisons to this book are inevitable, and to them i will say: at least this book knows gay people exist and that women can be friends with each other. nor does it skim over its own selling point (the competition) for a love triangle. in fact, there is no love triangle. do with this information what you will.
to be quite honest, i probably should have DNF'd this. i was iffy about the concept going in (sarah j maas* couldn't sell me on "competition to become the newest royal assassin where almost anyone can join, as if that's safe or sensible" and neither could this), and the first chapter wasn't... great. characters floating in a blank void of a setting; very little immediate world- or character-building; passable prose. and things didn't really get better after that; every time i put this book down, i forgot i was reading it. but, gang, i must make this clear: nobody ever writes about trans people. ever. so i felt, like, obligated to finish this.
so i'll address the trans point first: the representation is fine. it's literally fine. a few of the reviews complain that sal talks about their genderfluidity "too much," to which i say: literally where? they bring it up, like, three times because people ask their pronouns. in fact, i would have loved to see more about how gender works in this world, something more than "when i wear a tunic i'm a guy and when i wear a dress i'm a girl :)," which, though not terrible, is reductive and unenlightening about any gender-based worldbuilding there might be. i think it's possible to create a world without transphobia while also allowing a trans character to have thoughts and feelings about their gender (though, to tell the truth, i was never even sure if women are oppressed in this world, or if homophobia exists; elise sort of alludes to her father not encouraging her attraction to women, but so vaguely that i'm not confident writing this sentence).
about the worldbuilding: there isn't much, and the information that does exist is offered in the least helpful way possible. there's a difference between portioning out information slowly and just saying things and delaying their explanations. as an example: page sixteen offers, out of nowhere, this paragraph:
"Just like the old Erlend lords had. The Erlends had led the shadows through Nacea to slow them down and let the Erlend army escape while Nacea was slaughtered. My people were left as nothing more than stains on the earth where sharp, shapeless claws had flayed them apart."
things mentioned before this point in the book:
- erlend (a country)
- nacea (also a country)
things not mentioned, unless you count literally one sentence even less illuminating than the above:
- the shadows
this had me flipping back through the book to see if i had missed something. nope. the shadows aren't explained until page 23, which--sure, but why not? waiting to explain this information doesn't alter the pace, suspense, or flow of the book; it just... causes artificial suspense, i guess? this happened multiple times (i had a question; the book answered it a few pages later; i found myself wondering why the book didn't just... explain things properly the first time), and it honestly isn't that egregious a writing problem, but i couldn't help comparing this to books like gideon the ninth, which have complex worldbuilding parceled out in small bits, but in a distinctly purposeful manner colored by the point of view character's knowledge. versus this book, which just repeats the same information in clumps over and over (sometimes in adjacent chapters) because miller doesn't know how to weave it into the plot effectively. i guess you could argue it's not fair to compare this to GTN, as GTN is an adult novel and also nearly fucking flawless. take... i don't know. six of crows. six of crows doesn't do this, because leigh bardugo, though her books aren't perfect, is a good writer.
and linsey miller--at least in this book--just isn't. not a horrible writer, but not a good one either. this book could have used some more rounds of editing for prose alone; i stopped keeping count of times i just fully failed to follow the train of thought from one paragraph to the next. take page 99:
"I might've cheated my way through near everything, but there was no point in hurting servants or putting them in danger.
No wonder Maud wanted to work here forever--Our Queen took good care of her people, even if there were snakes in her gardens. I had to take care of them for her.
Magic and its shadows hadn't ended the war in favor of Erlend, The Lady hadn't saved Nacea, and praying hadn't spared Eight.
I had to place my faith in me."
how the fuck did we get from "servants are treated decently here" to "i am the only one who can keep myself safe," and do i even care? the prose isn't particularly pretty, either; it abounds with lines like "A servant wearing a plain gray uniform trimmed in blue with no jewelry or weapons bowed her head to me," AKA clunky awkward lines that need at least two more commas. (so many missing commas in this book, dear god. where was miller's editor.)
the characters are mediocre. i struggled to keep track of who was who, which maybe is on me for not putting more work into it, but i never felt inclined to put that work in when i didn't care about the story. add in that every member of the competition wears a mask and goes by a number instead of their name, and i was completely disengaged from the supporting cast. i understand why the mask/number thing is the case (for the purposes of the assassination competition), but it's a hell of a lot harder to get attached to a faceless nameless nothing figure.
except sal, too, is a non-character, despite having a name and presumably a backstory. their goal in the first chapter is a vague and watery desire to join the army (why? who knows), which immediately switches to a dogged desire to become one of the queen's assassins so they can enact revenge on the nobles who fucked their country over. sure! good for them! but this desire for revenge is never grounded in real memories of their past or grief that felt tangible. their siblings got murked, if i remember correctly, but we don't get those siblings' names. sal is a nacean patriot, but i know nothing about the culture of nacea. everything sal does is for the plot, not because they actually want it; i wrote in my notes that "this book feels pantsed," and i think that's why, because no action really has weight.
i will admit i feel bad for tearing this book apart, because... again, nobody writes about trans people! and i hate to be more critical of a book from what i think is a relatively small press than i am about, like, stephen king. but, as i've said before, i don't read stephen king, so i haven't got shit to say. i did read this and it was mid. not horrendous, just entirely flavorless and forgettable, a muddle of generic fantasy tropes that i found entirely unengaging. two stars for trans people and because it didn't make me angry; it failed to evoke any emotion in me at all.
*the sarah j maas comparisons to this book are inevitable, and to them i will say: at least this book knows gay people exist and that women can be friends with each other. nor does it skim over its own selling point (the competition) for a love triangle. in fact, there is no love triangle. do with this information what you will.
fruitylish's review against another edition
5.0
This new series reminds me, in a lot of ways of Sarah J. Maas's a Throne of Glass, at least the basis of it. But it brings a completely different twist and narrative to the story. Also, I hated that my favorite side character ended up dead. But it makes me want to continue, to hopefully learn more of the beloved, but now perished side character as well as to grow fond of the addition characters in the books to come.
luna_starisms's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
joanasunday's review against another edition
1.0
Un auténtico despropósito de libro. No es que sea malo, es que es peor; y parte de la culpa la tiene la traducción al castellano.
Veo que hay gente que critica el hecho que le protagonista, Sal, sea de género fluido y lo poco (por no decir, nada) relevante que esto es para la trama. Sinceramente, este no es mi problema con el libro: cada uno puede tener la identidad de género que sea y no tiene que tener más importancia. Quiero decir, cuando un protagonista es de género binario, ¿alguien se pregunta qué relevancia para la trama tiene? No. Sal es de género fluido y ya está; no veo porque tendría que haber todo un hilo argumental alrededor de ello.
No, mi problema viene con la señora Cristina Martín, la traductora al castellano de Máscara de sombras. Esta mujer ha decidido obviar la identidad de género de le protagonista, dirigiéndose a elle en masculino durante todo el libro. Si en alguna ocasión hace alusión a su identidad de género es porque salía en el texto explícitamente y, como traductora, no podía obviarlo. Pero da igual si Sal dice en algún momento que se dirijan a elle según vaya vestide como hombre o como mujer: a Cristina Martín le da igual. Cristina Martín decide que se refiere a Sal en masculino, lleve un vestido, un jubón o lo que sea; es irrelevante si Sal acaba de dar un speech reivindicativo sobre cómo deben dirigirse a elle, porque en la línea siguiente Cristina Martín vuelve a referírsele en masculino. Y si le suponía mucho engorro ir cambiando de femenino a masculino en función de lo que llevaba puesto Sal, siempre había la opción de utilizar el neutro todo el rato. Pero no, neutro who?Cristina Martín doesn't know her. Bueno, espero que si algo sacáis en claro de esta reseña es el nombre de esta mujer. Una vez más, Cristina Martín.
Y ahora, hablemos de Linsey Miller, que tampoco se va a librar. Linsey Miller, ¿te has leído tu propio libro? Pregunta totalmente seria.
¿Cómo puede ser que un libro contenga tantas incoherencias? Es que de verdad, un auténtico espectáculo: o Sal es analfabete o no lo es, pero no puede ser que en una escena no sepa ni leer ni escribir lo más básico del mundo y en la siguiente pueda leer documentos y cartas echándoles un vistazo fugaz y desde lejos; o las máscaras que utilizan los aspirantes/competidores o bien les cubren toda la cabeza, o bien sólo la cara, o bien sólo los ojos o la nariz, pero las reglas no pueden ir cambiando cada dos por tres en función de lo que te convenga para la historia, Linsey Miller.
Además, ¿por qué hay tantas escenas que carecen de sentido y de lógica? Os juro que se han eliminado intervenciones de diálogos, frases de escenas y párrafos de páginas enteras, porque la cohesión en el texto brilla por su ausencia. Hay veces que no sabes quién habla, hay personajes que salen de la nada y desaparecen igual de rápido, hay cambios de tema en medio de una conversación que no se entiende de dónde vienen...
Por no hablar de la desastrosa e insuficiente construcción del mundo que hace la autora; ella te dice cuatro cosas, tú te lo crees, y punto. No he entendido qué pasó en la guerra, por qué Sal quiere venganza (sí, mataron a todo su pueblo, pero ¿por qué?), de dónde salió la magia, qué eran las sombras... En definitiva, cuáles son las reglas del universo creado por Miller. Las explicaciones son escasas, caóticas, rápidas, insuficientes y nada convicentes.
Un show. Creo que desde 2018, con el infame [b:Slave, Warrior, Queen|29064737|Slave, Warrior, Queen (Of Crowns and Glory, #1)|Morgan Rice|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1455142273l/29064737._SY75_.jpg|49293564], que no leía algo tan malo y tan mal escrito. Y que conste que el argumento tenía potencial, pero la ejecución hace aguas por todas partes.
Conclusiones: primera, Cristina Martín, LGTBQ+fóbica; segunda, si Linsey Miller no se lee sus propios libros, tú tampoco leas nada de lo que ella escriba; tercera, esta novela es la primera (y espero que la última) decepción lectora del 2021.
*Si hay cualquier error en mi uso del lenguaje neutro al hablar de Sal o creéis que mi elección de palabras puede resultar ofensiva, os ruego me lo digáis para que pueda corregirlo, aprender y no volver a cometer ese error en el futuro. Gracias.*
Veo que hay gente que critica el hecho que le protagonista, Sal, sea de género fluido y lo poco (por no decir, nada) relevante que esto es para la trama. Sinceramente, este no es mi problema con el libro: cada uno puede tener la identidad de género que sea y no tiene que tener más importancia. Quiero decir, cuando un protagonista es de género binario, ¿alguien se pregunta qué relevancia para la trama tiene? No. Sal es de género fluido y ya está; no veo porque tendría que haber todo un hilo argumental alrededor de ello.
No, mi problema viene con la señora Cristina Martín, la traductora al castellano de Máscara de sombras. Esta mujer ha decidido obviar la identidad de género de le protagonista, dirigiéndose a elle en masculino durante todo el libro. Si en alguna ocasión hace alusión a su identidad de género es porque salía en el texto explícitamente y, como traductora, no podía obviarlo. Pero da igual si Sal dice en algún momento que se dirijan a elle según vaya vestide como hombre o como mujer: a Cristina Martín le da igual. Cristina Martín decide que se refiere a Sal en masculino, lleve un vestido, un jubón o lo que sea; es irrelevante si Sal acaba de dar un speech reivindicativo sobre cómo deben dirigirse a elle, porque en la línea siguiente Cristina Martín vuelve a referírsele en masculino. Y si le suponía mucho engorro ir cambiando de femenino a masculino en función de lo que llevaba puesto Sal, siempre había la opción de utilizar el neutro todo el rato. Pero no, neutro who?
Y ahora, hablemos de Linsey Miller, que tampoco se va a librar. Linsey Miller, ¿te has leído tu propio libro? Pregunta totalmente seria.
¿Cómo puede ser que un libro contenga tantas incoherencias? Es que de verdad, un auténtico espectáculo: o Sal es analfabete o no lo es, pero no puede ser que en una escena no sepa ni leer ni escribir lo más básico del mundo y en la siguiente pueda leer documentos y cartas echándoles un vistazo fugaz y desde lejos; o las máscaras que utilizan los aspirantes/competidores o bien les cubren toda la cabeza, o bien sólo la cara, o bien sólo los ojos o la nariz, pero las reglas no pueden ir cambiando cada dos por tres en función de lo que te convenga para la historia, Linsey Miller.
Además, ¿por qué hay tantas escenas que carecen de sentido y de lógica? Os juro que se han eliminado intervenciones de diálogos, frases de escenas y párrafos de páginas enteras, porque la cohesión en el texto brilla por su ausencia. Hay veces que no sabes quién habla, hay personajes que salen de la nada y desaparecen igual de rápido, hay cambios de tema en medio de una conversación que no se entiende de dónde vienen...
Por no hablar de la desastrosa e insuficiente construcción del mundo que hace la autora; ella te dice cuatro cosas, tú te lo crees, y punto. No he entendido qué pasó en la guerra, por qué Sal quiere venganza (sí, mataron a todo su pueblo, pero ¿por qué?), de dónde salió la magia, qué eran las sombras... En definitiva, cuáles son las reglas del universo creado por Miller. Las explicaciones son escasas, caóticas, rápidas, insuficientes y nada convicentes.
Un show. Creo que desde 2018, con el infame [b:Slave, Warrior, Queen|29064737|Slave, Warrior, Queen (Of Crowns and Glory, #1)|Morgan Rice|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1455142273l/29064737._SY75_.jpg|49293564], que no leía algo tan malo y tan mal escrito. Y que conste que el argumento tenía potencial, pero la ejecución hace aguas por todas partes.
Conclusiones: primera, Cristina Martín, LGTBQ+fóbica; segunda, si Linsey Miller no se lee sus propios libros, tú tampoco leas nada de lo que ella escriba; tercera, esta novela es la primera (y espero que la última) decepción lectora del 2021.
*Si hay cualquier error en mi uso del lenguaje neutro al hablar de Sal o creéis que mi elección de palabras puede resultar ofensiva, os ruego me lo digáis para que pueda corregirlo, aprender y no volver a cometer ese error en el futuro. Gracias.*