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A review by mcuthill
A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher
Look, T. Kingfisher's books aren't going to be winning any Pulitzers, but man does it make me feel good to read them. If reading crappy popular fantasy is like eating candy (excessively sweet but empty, briefly enjoyable but leaves you feeling bloated, nauseated and regretful), Kingfisher's books feel more like the Eastern European pastries I get from the Ukrainian bakery around the corner: sweet, but not too sweet; ingredients a bit on the weird side (poppyseeds, sour cherries, walnuts); oddly substantial, with a lingering feeling like your grandma just fed you something wholesome in disguise.
I didn't quite know what to make of these books - except that I immediately wanted more - until I discovered the emerging subgenre of 'cozy fantasy', a genre into which many of her other books fall (e.g. A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking). Then I realized what Kingfisher is doing in this and her other creepy offerings (The Twisted Ones, The Hollow Places, What Moves the Dead) is more or less singlehandedly inventing the genre of 'cozy horror'. And I am HERE for it.
I didn't quite know what to make of these books - except that I immediately wanted more - until I discovered the emerging subgenre of 'cozy fantasy', a genre into which many of her other books fall (e.g. A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking). Then I realized what Kingfisher is doing in this and her other creepy offerings (The Twisted Ones, The Hollow Places, What Moves the Dead) is more or less singlehandedly inventing the genre of 'cozy horror'. And I am HERE for it.