Review by dracogenius - A Court of Thorns and Roses

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dracogenius 's review for:

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

2.0

dark lighthearted fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Plot

Strong character development: No

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Complicated

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

I have a worldly obligation to finishing a book gifted to me. Unfortunately, I was gifted A Court of Thorns and Roses, and after browsing aplenty of gorgeous art online aligned with a fellow of mine picking up the series, I thought it time to read. But, now I want my reading time back.

What Can I Say About A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACoTaR)?
It must have been a light novel devoted to highschoolers' hearts, but it is also, unfortunately, a beloved book by a handful of my creative writing peers, so I will be railing this book

harder than Tamlin does Feyre

. Afterall, there are a handful of other young adult -- erm, "new adult" -- novels that far more brain fruitful than this. My points, in summary, are:

You didn't come here for good writing: ACoTaR is a ditzy spiel of surface thoughts combined by bland repetition, adjectives, and overt use of body expressions.
Feyre is too hetero for me (tm): the protagonist's thirst and easy distraction for the male body (see:
Rhysand
) complicates any chemistry she is meant to have with her primary love interest
Tamlin
.
You didn't come here for good plot: the plot has an identity crisis; between elements of a blood-ridden mind adventure and an sensational body-romance, the plot only desires the virtues of both without its complications. Sanguine cannot describe any of these moments; sublimity doesn't exist here.
Sarah J. Maas displays her lack of control: the diction choice suggests the desire for the book to have been an erotica novel, the setting possesses [potential] racial and cultural complications through haphazard creation, and the point of view fails to remain exclusive to Feyre and her experiences.

I'll spend more time than I ever desired detailing the above points and clarifying potential contradictions; spoilers, minor to major, are tagged, but approach them with caution. Crtl+F for specific critiques.

Setting: Not-England, Not-Ireland, Not-Christianity, Not-Picts...
Did you open the book and take a look at the map? If you don't recall, take to Google. Stare at it. Give it a laugh. It's just the British Isles but someone gave Scotland some cherries on top of the ice cream. Oh, and King of Hybern evaporated the lakes of Ireland. Wales got beefed up by the Summer Court. Anglesey pinched up by the Winter Court and dragged along the Manchester belt. Area of or around Leeds seems has been consumed by Under the Mountain. Hadrian's Wall is now repurposed as the border of the Day Court and Dawn Court. London has been consumed by The Wall. Some outskirt of Winchester or a piece of Farnham has been demolished and repurposed as Feyre's Village. And Cornwall is Cornwall! (Kidding, it's the "Mortal Lands," like "Feyre's Village," which, uh, Feyre doesn't own--)

Never mind the Court divisions that are vaguely like the United States's Midwest (looking at you, Kansas, Montana, Colorado, Dakotas, etc.)--

Let's look aside from the Not-England aspect and list the following attributes of the world: there's faeries, humans, a mortal world, and a faerie world. The mortal division keeps Cornwall and a small amount of South England before the rest is knocked by The Wall. Spring Court continues some containment of what I may consider South England (though, who even knows where England Norths and Souths? I don't even think the English know). The pale and white Feyre comes from the space of the "Mortal Realms" and the tan Tamlin is from the Spring Court, where as Summer and Autumn hails characters, such as Alis and Lucien, are also tan. While further developments reveal an enemy

from Hybern

who is white and fair and pale followed by another faerie character who shifts from pale to tan, it is incredibly bizarre to me that from the opening of the novel, mortal realms are conflated with whiteness and the others -- the monster, the faeries -- are those with darker skin. This proceeds to be broken down overtime but its the initial takeaway and perhaps the common point of view in Feyre's Village (save from those... Children of the Blessed, perhaps) which is quite the fantasy racism yikes.

Speaking of, a friend of mine had to remind me that the Children of the Blessed exists and that they did make an appearance. Whoever they are, however, I cannot say, for I have zero memory of them other than Feyre referencing them. Their names are effectively backdrop and arise with the mention of faeries, but it's a nice touch. Oh, but by the Cauldron, I have no idea who they are. Speaking of cooking utensils--

Other elements of setting involves the unseen Cauldron, likely a nod to Welsh mythos (but from what specifically I cannot recall) that serves as a source of higher power or destiny to the faeries. This was lovely, and the attribution of a prayer was wonderful to see whenever it did come up. Fire Night is a bit questionable as

I understand this is a romance novel, but this is essentially a grandiose orgy; why is this in the book, other than to create a couple's rift temporarily? It really was bizarre, and there are plentiful other ways to convey a fertility festival. Perhaps the desire to pen an erotica is too damn high

. There is an additional festival that is rather charming, but catch me remember what it's called as it isn't dwelled on much or at all compared to Fire Night.

Speaking of Fire Night: my recollection is Tamlin, the bestial, animalistic, "brute" titled character, is painted with blue for the festival time. This vividly reminded me of the Picts! And then unfortunately the conflation of barbarian-brute with this painting for a festival

particularly about body-erotic, rough carnage

is uncomfortably bizarre to have correlated. Thoroughly, I do not think Maas thought about this or thought this one through in terms of recreating the "savage" stereotype of the Pictish...

Little additional fun tidbits of the setting, such as the lovely Suriel and the faeries-can't-lie motifs are incredibly charming. The masques are really fun, too! I had only wish

they were permanent aspect of faerie culture and not some half-arse'd curse; sincerely, it tailored a portion of the story's uniqueness

. They do not cover the fact that I have zero clue what technology and amount of fantasy medieval is being experienced in the story, but they're cute. Horseback over absent wagons suggest some amount of time that the story is attempting to reflect, but the attire of the world seems to take whatever it pleases itself to have, as ultra-fantasy does. I cannot recall any corsets, but there are cakes and fireplaces present amidst all this... stuff. I have little to say about it, but note that it is enough to fuddle my attention at times.

Filed under setting is the aspect that the characters cuss. No, like, fuck, a plenty of them do. It's a bit of a sore thumb and feels to contradict the tone and language the story wants to be using. for time period purposes -- if, if time periods were even considered... whatsoever...

Notably, Heaven and Hell exist. Yes, the capitalized Heaven and Hell -- it appears uncapitalized as well, but it is clearly known among the faeries and humans that there's a Heaven and a Hell, and yet... There doesn't seem to be any religion that is producing the theology for these ideas (that I can recall). Most of the attention is shifted onto the Eddies of the Cauldrons (Ed, Edd, 'n Eddy), and that theology also doesn't receive much development either. Is there a fantasy religion so standardized across the world that the reference to it is unblinkable to everyone but myself and fellow readers? This feels like a loop that goes unaddressed for so long, but as the characters keep using these terms, it raises concerns as to what it is and where. Riddle me this, Maas.

Characters: Lucien, Alis, Nesta, My Beloveds--
I mean: they exist, but are sabotaged when they are clear plot-devices. Let me break this down for y'all:

Feyre: I cannot tell you who she is because I don't even know who she is, and the story follows her. Certainly, she's a huntress, a painter, a sister, and a human. Does her lack of internal monologue suggest she is shallow, self absorbed, or easily distracted? Does she even have a brain to propel an emotional thought longer than a paragraph before being conveniently interrupted by someone in the room? Is she even capable of thought? While she may be preoccupied with the thought of death for one moment, she is instantly whisked away without any further dwellings nor complications of what she has witnessed. Writing style suggests that she is hyper self-aware of her body, given all readers know about her is about what "I thought," "My heart," "My breath," "My breasts," "I opened," and other action-redundant jazz and awareness that do not read to be her's (and if they are her's, then why is she thinking these things? We really are not like this, even as humans). Such redundancies does not reveal a character as observant; there are far better ways to convey that than generic actions that could apply to anyone. Unfortunately, Feyre is a character who has a lot of generic actions that could apply to anyone.

She undergoes two primary character developments, one more important than the other: one is in regards to how

Tamlin and Lucien claim she doesn't have humor, so she magically springs one up. No clue where that came from, but it was convenient for... chemistry?

and how

she learns to empathize for creatures who are not her; which, while it isn't shown well in her interiority, it technically exists in the physical plot

. These changes are digestible. The former is less intriguing than the other, but the second is entertainable at least. But, overall, she came off as bland, equivalently a "you" in a "Reader x Subject" piece of fan fiction. And I hate to inform anyone this this far down the paragraph, but she is also the protagonist who we follow in first person point of view -- an absolute bore. Additional comments and complications follow below in regards to point of view, writing style, and diction, but Feyre overall doesn't bring much to the table save for her occupation -- something that the rest of the cast fulfills fluently. Perhaps she would have been more tolerable if she had flaws further reflected by those around her, but as first person easily cloaks them, first person makes it quite easy to unsee both the presence and absence of flaws. Feyre falls into this case, ribbons and all.

In addition, Feyre is subject to her own romantic adventure with

Tamlin

that amounts to being passionate and enjoyable

save for the fact that they both seem to flip-script their characters, but least they do it early on in the story to make it palatable

. Her (or potentially-not-her) word choice nurtures the passion and tension the story strings along for this pairing and their union. This is in contrast to

whatever the fuck she is doing with Rhysand later; clearly, she's attracted to him, given to her descriptions to gave, but he also abuses her -- and yet she is... ultimately empathizing with his actions? If I had a clue, I would be telling it as of now, but I sincerely do not comprehend why she made such mental leaps other than an unexplored Stockholm Syndrome, and I am uncertain if that's correct

. Consider now the issue at hand with the absent mental plot inviting questions regarding

if Feyre experiencing is trauma at all. The story does not want to make the commitment and efforts for characters with mental health experiences and issues, and yet may be trying to rake in the effects of them, all in a point of view which favors the internalization, internal monologue, and inner thoughts of the protagonist -- and either Feyre or Maas denies readers from discovering either.

Did you want answers for that? Because

unfortunately, you're not getting any; the book fails to address it, shoving it aside for another time. By the style it is written, this also seems to be what Feyre does, but the book chooses to end here as well. A frustrating dynamic.

Elain: She's adorable. Miles long, she means all the well. Flower girl is her personality, as well as bringing the joy to any conversation ever held. Perky, I suppose. However,

Feyre nearly forgets about her (really surprising given the flora descriptors Feyre picks out), really only thinking about Nesta if he is ever pondering about her family. Which, make a note here folks: kind female character seems to be forgettable to Feyre. Perhaps this speaks to Feyre being more so ungrateful than anything else

. She has a garden, and that's cute. Wish it could cultivate more of her personality and character though.

Nesta: An absolute queen. Her introduction frames her as rather unlikeable and evil, but after a couple of chapters of Feyre being rather self-absorbed though equally shallow in her own thoughts, I began to respect why Nesta was as she was.

Feyre's return to her halfway through the book really grounds her character as acting independently, from admitting to looking for her after Feyre was adducted to having suspicions in her own right.

While there isn't much seen of her between these two points, she is commonly brought up in Feyre's internal thoughts, serves as a conversational antagonist to Feyre, but

her care for her family does not go unnoticed

. Love that going for her. Her personality is far more intriguing, as she is a rather cold and socialite-sensing individual, and would have been a splendid point of view to follow if the author had the skills to follow one. Before anyone else says otherwise, I am wholly aware, too, that book four has Nesta and what seems to be her point of view, but

isn't it all solely erotica? What a crime. An absolute robbery. I will arrest Maas.

Isaac:

Who? His role is some miniscule. It had all the potential to mean something more, as subject to one of Feyre's paintings, a first potential interest that Feyre wasn't very invested in and was yet an experience (if I recall correctly). What is charming about his character is when Feyre meets him again upon her return from Prythian: his grown self, her acknowledge of no longer being interested in him, his new girl (which, unfortunately, again, seeded female v. female rivalry by Maas or Feyre). He may solely be a character serving as a marker for character growth, but it was done in a very quaint fashion. If only Feyre actually had any semblance of internal experience, emotional reaction, and thought...

Tamlin: He exists. He's a guy. He does beast, shape-shifting things, which is incredible rad. He's just an animal man. His personality? An Olivia Newton-John song (to quote the wonderous tune Physical: "Let's get physical" and "I wanna get animal.") That's Tamlin. Admittedly, however, he becomes cute after lingering as a generic stone cold faerie. Part of this comes out by his interactions with Lucien, who seems to encourage him to warm up, though a significant shift.

A little after Feyre "develops a sense of humor" is when his character read, to me, as remarkably changed, but I have no idea how other than that perhaps he found his personality out in the woods or the bottom of a plate-pan.

Other than that, he has a fair share of toils, personal stresses, and obligations that make his balancing act entertaining to watch. Whereas he seems to lack, well,

much of a chemistry with Feyre at the start, it does feel to develop latter as his character unpacks more; Feyre, I figure, cannot stick with someone unemotional. While I struggled with them as a couple at the start, by the book's middle I was more purchased to the notion of Tamre or Feylin or... whatever the cool kids call it

. I think that's about it.

Wicked cool thing though: this wolfbearmanpig has a heart of stone -- literally! And that's rather neat; a return to the mystical, but also carries his ability to persevere, bear his responsibilities, and withstand all that comes at him. Him and Jane Seymour are similar in that regard.

No one asked but

least he makes for a rather steamy love-making scene

.

Lucien: Handsome, red-head, darling one-eyed lad, and the worst emissary to have ever graced Prythian. 💖 Sincerely, let's be clear: his attitude, quips, and remarks targeted at

Amarantha cost him his eye

, and yet he continues to verbally duel

Rhysand

? What a Chad. He doesn't learn his lesson. He has a little tid bit regarding

losing someone he loves due to his family's disapproval, but it doesn't really come up for anything more than Feyre's empathy development towards faeries

. But, gazing beyond that, his wit serves as both plot support and personality. He dips at certain scenes

to enable alone time for Tamlin and Feyre -- what a wingman

and conveys enough information

regarding The Suriel which endangers Feyre, ultimately, but I think his advice is largely tailored to his battle experience, and therefore suited him

. He has a hella fine dagger [ ;) ], endures a handful of his own story and pressures within Feyre's peripheral, and fits snuggly into the story as a supporting character who can hold his own in terms of character presence. At times he's a bit of a babysitter, but his emotional care paced alongside his concern for duty makes it reasonable for him to fulfill this role, even if

he sucks at it

. Cute support character nevertheless ~~who's stolen my heart~~. 💖

Alis: As one of the only female character unrelated to Feyre for a long time, it had truly occurred to me that Alis is both the only named, non-family related female Feyre interacts with for the majority of the novel and is incredibly short fused with Feyre. I almost do not doubt that there is an internalized female v. female attribute surfacing here, within or outside Maas's control. However, despite this, Alis has a compelling background, her duty grounded in the need to tend to her nieces-or-nephews. This turns out to reveal some world background regarding faerie fertility; admittedly, a sneaky lore dump. It is rather smooth, well-done, and rides along the guise of transition. However, the unsneaky loredump arrives around chapter 32, where

Alis goes for paragraphs on about the true plot that no one bothered to tell Feyre and Feyre becomes a question prompt for Alis to continue spieling

, which is a shame. I understand Alis is a servant, but she did become an exposition voice box for a solid chapter. Unfortunately, it would be one of the last times seeing her, but her wit and her will to lend Feyre some guidance whilst standing by the need to return to her nieces-nephews is very charming. I adore her. Not sure if she would've been remarkable if not a conversational antagonist with Feyre, but at least there's someone around the corner to cut through Feyre's murderous intents and bring in the molten chocolate.

Rhysand:

"I'm a pragmatist," is the worst reason thing he may have ever muttered after everything gone through the novel. He does things to sort-of-spite Tamlin but at the cost of Feyre. He traps her into a shoddy contract, eyes her up with the intention to get with her (despite her -- what I think is -- disinterest, even in the face of his "erotic caress" of a voice), and ultimately violates her as some kind of grand scheme of things. And yet... we're supposed to understand the empathy Feyre gives him, solely because his Court has suffered too? Hey, you know a fae who hasn't done all of these things despite his Court suffering? Tamlin. Anyways, Rhysand is solely an crow-cloaked, violet-eyed, feline-bird (how come you get two opposing themes, Sand Man) faerie who invites the dark elements of the plot to an unnecessary degree and attempts to reason his assaults and drugging with means-to-an-end behavior. Clearly, I don't like him, which is a prejudice altering my ability to criticize him. The story may have been more intriguing if he didn't aid Feyre, remaining as a temptation perhaps but ultimately triumphed over in favor of love. I do believe his character complicates the story's themes, but not in a method of strengthening and rivaling the challenges for Feyre or Tamlin, but more as a thorn in the side, and being... a creep... I wanted to believe him to be an antagonist character, but I don't think Maas wanted to make that commitment. Frankly, I am disappointed.

In regards to future novels

I cannot fathom him for what's to come because I cannot stomach him even as of now. Filthy man needs to be shoved in a birdbath. He can go back to lying face down on the beach where he belongs

.

Amarantha:

There is no character here. She's just a villain in the way and makes up some riddle about love because she's salty she can't have Tamlin. Everything she says is with the intention of being nerve-wracking. Typical standard big-bad. Also a woman, only to further echo the consistent female v. female relationships Feyre has. However, this is acceptable for the story. I cannot ask for a story with a sappy romance plot dwelling on desire to be erotica to have a full-fleshed villain. Sure, she did a lot of this because her sister was wronged by Jurian, but her hellbent desire for Tamlin cloaks over the complexities and returns her back to the papercut villain of multiple hair colours (black, red, blonde -- oh my!) Another tidbit to mention is that Amarantha invites a lot of the "darker" aspects of the story through the violence and sadistic enjoyment she has over whatever-in-the-love-of-the-Eddies is going on. She didn't need the whole torture-an-innocent gimmick; holding Tamlin hostage is enough for the plot, period.

Anyone unmentioned was probably licked away from my memory like a tear drop.

Plot: In The Belly of The... Worm?
If you like being led on from one lie after another, this book's for you! Get ready to be deceived in more ways than one (kind of like what your expartner did to you, probably).

Which, turns out, isn't too half bad. Part of this becomes a respectful nod to folklore faerie-tales. Sure, it's like mozzarella stick, as it is a plot that really sinks down to

villain who can only be broken by true love -- looking especially at that riddle Feyre had to solve. Yep, you guessed it. The answer was love. D'aw

. But this is acceptable as a light romance novel -- if it is a novel that is only focused on faeries, magic, and the romance it conjures...

Yet, it tries to shift into being dark. It attempts to charcoal its cheesy goodness. There is no crime in shifting astray from the plot (as there's no crime in burning a mozzarella stick), but the execution reads as disastrous. The only dark aspect is in the physical form: violence, torture, repeated use of "blood" as a word (dark and dismal within itself). What makes savory, dark story is more so on the mental plot, a character's interiority who is being pulled by the pressures and stresses of perceiving the extreme. The only moment I can ponder when this sense of interiority slips is

during Feyre's second trial -- or whichever the one was that involved the roman numeral lever

. And yet, the results of such feel... nearly missing in terms of dwelling.

The shift, too, occurs rather late in the story; later chapters involve horrors that

Amarantha and Rhysand inflict on others. Clare's torture and crucifixion is one of the more paramount aspects; the guilt of news about what happened to the house wasn't enough, apparently, in Maas's eyes, which is unfortunate since it could've been -- could've. If only there was more interiority revealed

. Feyre does not cope well with

being drugged, manipulated, and assaulted by Rhysand

but -- as an event shoved so far down the plot, mixed with the lack of emotional reveal as to how Feyre is feeling moreso in the aftermath, readers lack resolution.

ACoTaR's ending betrays the beginning.

The emphasis on Feyre's humanity matters not when she's a High Fae. Whereas she could have been the one to slay Amarantha, perhaps, that was left in the hands of Tamlin, but the thought of Feyre putting her huntress skills with an ash-dagger throw would've been priceless. Her choosing to undergo Rhysand's contract -- even in the face of death -- flushes out the desperation and trail of "love above all else" that felt to have been Feyre's cause upon her return to the faerie realms.

It's not a satisfying ending. In fact, it feels forged with the intent of carrying itself into having another novel. And while, true, this is a series, lined with multiple books, it lacks the satisfaction a novel should still retain standalone, especially as I am not eager to read the upcoming novels -- the thought of it is claw provoking. This novel has all the potential to stand alone, and while it does in terms of the physical plot, it has invited far too many inquiries in the mental plot to end where it does.

The plot produces two themes fit to its romance genre: love and trust. As the story begins with Feyre's violence and hatred towards all faeries, it ends with

Feyre's love for a faerie (Tamlin) and subsequent empathy towards other fae (Alis, Lucien, Rhysand) produces absent violence towards all faeries

. This is complicated by the fact that

there is sincerely no solid reason for Feyre to empathize for Rhysand after he sexually assaulted, drugged, and objectified her, and I can only perceive this to have been granted due to mental duress which the text does not willingly open up or support the concept with. This should not be a take away for young adult readers in a "good ending" book, but I perceive this is how it can be interpreted. That's mortifying.

. The secondary theme, as in trust, namely arises from the fact that

Feyre has to really be banking on Tamlin's sincere emotions to think she wasn't being used as some curse breaker and to reconcile with him after Fire Night. Put this alongside Tamlin's horrific experience of watching everything that happened to Feyre during Under the Mountain, and Tamlin would have to arguably believe in Feyre's sincere emotions, especially as she's not able to defend herself with whatever filth Rhysand forces onto her

.

Point of View: Shallow, Illiterate Huntress Who Paints as a Hobby...
While I am uncertain about Feyre's character and doubt her development, Maas makes it clear to the readers (in the opening chapters and conversations with Tamlin and Lucien) that Feyre hunts out of obligation, enjoys painting, and is illiterate because of unfinished schooling. So, these are certainties about Feyre. Therefore, I can at least bank on this for her diction. However, this falls apart, and it stands out stark in the text.

Consider the following: I am thinking about Feyre's ability to name off the types of flowers and trees in the garden -- when did she develop this word bank and knowledge? If it is Elain, there is little to not prior indication in Elain teaching Feyre these things, but I could be wrong. Oh, also, how does Feyre know what a gelding is, the horse that Lucien rides? While anyone could effectively look under a horse and perceive it, does Feyre have an equine background as well to grant her the vocabulary to call it that? Or perhaps this wasn't Feyre's voice at all! This last idea is the most sensible to suggest that the author and the protagonist are not necessarily following each other side by side, breaking and betraying tidbits crucial to an already... tiresome character.

Another thing is regards to interiority, or mental plot. As first person, one of the strongest tools at the table is the ability to dive into a specific emotional and mental state. This, special because of scenario or personality, should be exciting to pick up and read. Yet... we get none of that from Feyre. She ponders an issue for two seconds and then goldfishes to a new item in mind. When she supposedly

broke her promise with her mother

, it was just an issue repeated a couple of times in a three sentence paragraph, brushed aside by another (admittedly more intriguing) plot point, but the realization of this change in values is not Feyre's and neither does she dwell to think about it! She's off to talk about how "I thought" and "I blinked" and "I breathed" and "I knew" -- all which, grand job but, you're already doing it hun! No need to tell us; just do it. Particularly since half of these latter verbs is Feyre being far too self aware of herself and body to have me purchase the idea that she is stressed out, preoccupied, and busied with the idea of being whisked away to another land. That doesn't seem to bother her one bit, even if she's repeating how she wants to return to her family. Yeah, no. I am more immersed in Lucien's glass eye than whatever Feyre is in her problems (which, to be fair, is quite difficult to rival -- Lucien is rather enchanting...)

Now, I have to surrender to the following: perhaps this story could have only been told from Feyre's perspective, solely in order to fulfill the romance aspect of the novel. However, I feel that any other character would've been far more intriguing to receive the voice and experiences of, for Feyre brings nothing alive to the table (save for diction, but instinct raises a counterpoint to that).

I do believe that this novel was first crafted with Feyre first in mind, not the quality of point of view. If this novel wasn't compelled to be focused on Feyre, Lucien could have done the trick to satisfy the romance genre

given his past and background involves having had a romance fallen apart, but he has the charms and weird position in the court to complicate his friendship with Tamlin and the faerie universe if he were to, say, fall in love again -- with a human

. Nesta, true, could have also been a more intriguing break-the-ice and prideful point of view

who could have fulfilled the plot as, yet again, a human falling in love with a fae

. The lack of interiority rules out any ability to write with an interesting and complicated Tamlin in mind, but it would have followed the same diction and could omit certain episodes

like the Fire Night or certain political missions

. Alas, we are stuck with Feyre. Fair-ree. Fae-rie. Oh, I'm sorry, ~Fay-ruh~.

Writing Style: Gold, Pale, Tan, Watery Bowels Tore My Blood and Breath into Ribbons--
There are plenty more of redundant word choices and adjectives, but here's the bulk of them. I'll like to note that for terms such as "gold, pale, tan," these are arguably in Feyre's immediate vocabulary (she is an amateur painter after all). "Blood" also makes sense to arise due to her hunter background. However, prepare for these terms to arrive redundantly, and it is very hard to believe that this redundancy can be overlooked as mere illiteracy since certain words break out of Feyre's perspective if redundancy was meant to display (see: point of view spiel).

Redundancy, repetition, and repeatability tires itself in the form of threes, sometimes all linked by the blessed conjunction 'and', and if you didn't think this gets tiresome after awhile, it does, without progressing any interiority Feyre has. Point of view and word choice granted by her experiences is one thing, but interiority reveal is another. And, whereas it is perfectly sensible to apply repetition to convey circular thought, obsession, and hang-ups, these repetitions are often in regards to surface level descriptions in scenarios that do not inherently complicate her emotions. The adjectives more so equal themselves, adding no new information, and repeat a description or experience rather than deepen, explore, or complicate by any means.

Now, a clause for adjectives: perhaps Feyre's illiteracy may also lend to why there is an absurd amount of adjectives in the air, but I would like to point that I am prepared for Feyre to make more imaginative adjectives and similes regarding colours, likening and describing blood in different ways, than just saying bloodred and blood. She's an artist, right? But do not expect this to be toyed or engaged with by any means through the text.

Oh... Here's another tidbit... About the book... You... You want to know what there's a lot of? I think... These ellipses are meant... to suggest Feyre's deeper and more exasperated thoughts, heighten drama and tension... And passions, especially towards the end of the novel where it gets

obnoxiously more gruesome and "darker"

... But see how little... this contributes... to the material of my sentence... Yeah... Why... ? Why are you... Writing like this... Maas?!

Anyways, if Feyre could read and picked up this book, the writing style would further liquefy her watery bowels.

Bonus Round: Dicktion!
That's right -- recall when I wrote "Maas secretly wanted to write an erotica"?

Feyre's huntress background and the beastial qualities of the Spring Court may reason why she focuses and uses animal terms often in the text. Within literal descriptions, we get: beast, Tamlin's claws, a feral smile, etc.. Among the figurative descriptions, we read: like a snake, wild, primal, unrelenting, etc.. Her hunting experience keeps her versed, even if she may be illiterate and lacking in the verbose vocabulary a book-read hunter would have.

Yet, there is another layer of word choice and focus that is at hand: food. Eating, snarling, biting, knife, skin -- hey! These overlap with animals, doesn't it?

The hand-in-hand language amounts to carnal desire is not missed in the text. Food? Consumption. Meat? The body. Flesh? Consummation. Feyre's small word bank, likely granted by her lack of hunting vocabulary (despite having five years to develop it during pelt trades and potential tips to become a better hunter--), could contribute to the returning circularity of the matter. That, or the half-beast remark Nesta makes isn't so far off after all (except for the fact that Feyre is, if I recall correctly, not the beast viewing the world; she is viewing the beast in others, henceforth creating this language by how she frames others and her situation).

Outlining these elements makes the choices feel intentional, and therefore Maas possesses more control of her story than I grant credit for, but I think that it further reveals what readers should not be seeing: that Maas's first book in the series could not be hyper-erotic for (likely) publication purposes, yet she yearned for it badly enough to trickle this through every moment of Feyre's experience. It reads as a subconscious drive arises to the surface of the text, bubbling up in places where Feyre could be further invested in her own mental thoughts regarding her emotions and reactions. In times that Feyre could be reembracing the colourful, image-heavy descriptions (such as her time at the starlit stream, dancing in the fields of music with a certain fae, etc.; aspects to embrace the painter in her, the desired life over the forced-upon huntress life), she is engaged with the feral-food affinity all over again

I have a feeling I wasn't supposed to laugh as hard as I did, especially during the steamy scenes. This, above, may have played a part.

Disclaimer: Let Me Give it to You Straight...
Ultimately, while reading this, I was reassured by one possibility: Feyre is too damn straight (or sexual) for me. That's it. When I latched onto the novel, the blank slate Feyre presented alongside the romance focused on one person through the majority of the book granted me a smidge of hope for my demisexual heart, even as I struggled to grasp the lacking character development to reason the end-goal couple of the novel.

Perhaps it would've been better in the end that the end-goal couple never occurs because there's clearly this weird attraction Feyre has for Rhysand despite everything he's done to her, solely because of his "erotic" voice and how he is the "most beautiful fae" she's ever seen, and therefore forgetting Tamlin in the process-- who, she seems moreso hooked on the warmth his (Tamlin's) body brings than anything else...

The chemistry Feyre is meant to have all reads as body heavy, and I think this is fed by additional issues regarding absent character development, lack of Feyre's interiority, and the diction that may or may not be entirely her's.

It's not wrong to be a sexual person. Some people are set out like that. Yet, this wasn't what was set out for the reader (to me); in my eyes, when the novel presented itself as a story of love, that is what I open myself to.

Lowkey fear that, regarding the upcoming novels,

Tamlin and Feyre aren't going to stick around... my investment in their bizarre shift to ship feels empty and unrewarded

. This is further reinforced by the fact that the ending of the first novel has

a sense of wanting to bring Rhysand and Feyre together -- between the tattoo bond and the immediate weird empathy Feyre retains after his abuse on her

and the aspect that

the absent development of interiority, served with a lack of emotional depth from Feyre's perspective, mixed with the absurd amount of violence forcibly pushed upon all these characters due to Amarantha and Rhysand, is going to springboard a sudden rise of PTSD and mental health episodes unaddressed and ungripped for Feyre, Tamlin, Lucien, etc.. Considering mental health is grand for a story, but this story doesn't set itself out, from the start, to really care about that, given how little Feyre dwells on her own thoughts and experiences

Final Consensus: 2 Stars -- Oh! Or Maybe 3.5 Stars--!
Here's the bottom of the tea and the crumbs of the scone: ACoTaR would stand as a 3.5 Star rating, but it is ultimately 2 Stars, and there's no in-between about it. I have to weigh these stars on the same preface that there are writers and youth who read this story and feel compelled to mimic it and think this to be good in either quality or take-away.

When does it become 3.5 Star worthy?

If you're looking to read this novel stand-alone (not as a series) ...
Want to keep your brain from engaging ankle-deep (or beyond) thought ...
Eager to read for frivolous entertainment and fluff (instead of reading fanfiction) ...
Desire a book with characters that can be flocked to, rallied behind, (and make copious amount of fanmaterial of) ...
Want to breeze through a book in a couple of days (because you could skim a good chunk of it) ...
A romance developing and engaging trials over a mildly fast, elongated medium paced story ...

Because in all the fair: Lucien, Alis, and Nesta are a blast to follow along and listen to, even if they consist of moreso snarky remarks at Feyre, because what they have to say is intriguing, lively, and breaks Feyre's monotony (even at the cost of being semi-antagonistic towards her). Tamlin isn't too bad of a character, either, but I feel that I had warmed up to him and let my guard down, enabling his slow, and passively welcoming the fact that he's going to be a beast-man kind of character with a lot of weight on his shoulder. The colours brought forward by the starlit stream, the gardens of sate a personal aesthetic for landscape and mystical naturescape. And while I cannot logically enjoy why there had been so many layers in

concealing the true reason and plot before Feyre -- why she was brought out to, it was entertaining enough to agree to the journey, namely because

it fell into the aesthetic of faeish, folklore-ish tricks and deceit whilst embracing the theme of love and the creation of trust; this is as much as I can give the Amarantha plot -- the true plot of the story, after the layers of the Treaty and the blight are uncovered -- credit for.

But, it is a flat 2 Star worthy.

Beloved characters feel formed by the aspect that they snap back at the protagonist ...
Lucien, Alis, Tamlin, and Nesta have far more intriguing positions in the story than Feyre; her point of view is necessary to tell a romance of a human engaging with a fae -- oh wait: literally anyone else
who is human, I guess
could've done that ...
Characters' language reads as disconnected from the story's setting and scenario ...
Did you find Feyre's personality? If so, return to the lost and found at [redacted address] ...
The plot's attempt to shift from romance into a dark romance is largely unsupported due to the writing style and the protagonist's lack of interiority ...
Whereas the plot attempts to darken itself through violence, it shoves aside the mystical, light hearted fantasy attributes of faeries established through the book's majority ...
There feels to be no intriguing takeaway regarding characters' -- and therefore people's -- behavior ...
The setting's reads as underwhelming, questionable, and undeveloped ...
A handful of writing crimes have been committed to maul the piece; it's more mauled than
Feyre's neck on Fire Night. Thanks Tamlin.

That's a wrap. Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk. (This was probably longer than an ACoTaR chapter.)

Content Warnings