Scan barcode
A review by upbeatmetaphor
Royal Street by Suzanne Johnson
2.0
Royal Street promises itself as an urban fantasy set at the intersection of the worlds of old magic and modern day, against the backdrop of the events of hurricane Katrina.
It doesn't really deliver.
It's more of a detective novel, although it lacks any really clue-based intrigue, and whilst the magic is described as old and has the potential to be enthralling and powerful, it is robbed of its teeth by a system of societies and rituals that are explored in a clinical, matter-of-fact way.
New Orleans feels like a missed opportunity, treated as little more than a backdrop. There's a range of Dixieland characters, but the city itself seems to have no personality, either with or without the inevitable changes and influences a hurricane brings. It made me want to research and visit New Orleans, not because it painted a rich and detailed picture, but because it clearly left so much out.
Within the city, the main narrative of missing persons and supernatural incursions takes a bit of a back seat to our protagonist's main concern. Who or what she might want to f*ck.
Protagonists need agency, and *checks notes* Drusilla certainly has that, but her choices are constantly ill-advised and she learns nothing from them, and her attentions are constantly distracted by bulging muscles, open shirts and smooth voices.
There seems to be no real motivation for her lousy decision-making and constantly throbbing loins, so *checks notes* Drusilla comes off as quite an unlikeable, almost stupid character, which makes *checks notes* Drusilla quite forgettable.
The most interesting characters (a voodoo demi-god and an Afghanistan war vet) are sidelined in favour of the biceps, pecs and unwanted constant sexual advances of Drusilla's new attaché and/or replacement. Character development is mainly presented in sudden oh-I-guess-I-can-tell-you-now infodumps, or in blurted rushes of conversation that make characters seem like they're in a rush to leave the chapter.
The story resolves not with an unfolding mystery but with a bit of a scuffle, and the epilogue goes too far to wrap up every single plot point in a thinly veiled list.
One thing worthy of note is the tact with which Katrina is handled. It is not exploited, sensationalised or trivialised... but there's still something missing in the response to its actions upon a city that is supposedly so dear to the characters. Perhaps the desired tone is a sort of distant and pragmatic observation, but this doesn't match with the tantrumy hair-trigger hormones of the core characters.
I wouldn't really recommend it to fans of urban fantasy or supernatural fiction, or fans of steamy romance because well, it's a bit steamless. I'd forgive the characters their constant horn-dog distractions if they responded to them with anything other than the meticulous listing detachment with which they view the city, the story, and everything else.
I don't know what I was supposed to get out of reading this.
It doesn't really deliver.
It's more of a detective novel, although it lacks any really clue-based intrigue, and whilst the magic is described as old and has the potential to be enthralling and powerful, it is robbed of its teeth by a system of societies and rituals that are explored in a clinical, matter-of-fact way.
New Orleans feels like a missed opportunity, treated as little more than a backdrop. There's a range of Dixieland characters, but the city itself seems to have no personality, either with or without the inevitable changes and influences a hurricane brings. It made me want to research and visit New Orleans, not because it painted a rich and detailed picture, but because it clearly left so much out.
Within the city, the main narrative of missing persons and supernatural incursions takes a bit of a back seat to our protagonist's main concern. Who or what she might want to f*ck.
Protagonists need agency, and *checks notes* Drusilla certainly has that, but her choices are constantly ill-advised and she learns nothing from them, and her attentions are constantly distracted by bulging muscles, open shirts and smooth voices.
There seems to be no real motivation for her lousy decision-making and constantly throbbing loins, so *checks notes* Drusilla comes off as quite an unlikeable, almost stupid character, which makes *checks notes* Drusilla quite forgettable.
The most interesting characters (a voodoo demi-god and an Afghanistan war vet) are sidelined in favour of the biceps, pecs and unwanted constant sexual advances of Drusilla's new attaché and/or replacement. Character development is mainly presented in sudden oh-I-guess-I-can-tell-you-now infodumps, or in blurted rushes of conversation that make characters seem like they're in a rush to leave the chapter.
The story resolves not with an unfolding mystery but with a bit of a scuffle, and the epilogue goes too far to wrap up every single plot point in a thinly veiled list.
One thing worthy of note is the tact with which Katrina is handled. It is not exploited, sensationalised or trivialised... but there's still something missing in the response to its actions upon a city that is supposedly so dear to the characters. Perhaps the desired tone is a sort of distant and pragmatic observation, but this doesn't match with the tantrumy hair-trigger hormones of the core characters.
I wouldn't really recommend it to fans of urban fantasy or supernatural fiction, or fans of steamy romance because well, it's a bit steamless. I'd forgive the characters their constant horn-dog distractions if they responded to them with anything other than the meticulous listing detachment with which they view the city, the story, and everything else.
I don't know what I was supposed to get out of reading this.