An excellent and comprehensive look at an underappreciated and rarely acknowledged people. While the book has a habit of repeating its conclusions, they bear repeating. Mercifully easy to read even if you aren't an academic-- the work is dry but never obtuse. A must-read if you have any interest in the Roman non-elite.
An excellent and sober study of witchcraft throughout history and cultures, the worst thing I can say about this book is that it's a little dry. If you want a book that demystifies the tropes and cultural fears inherent in witchcraft, do yourself a favor and read this.
I don't super love noir, or detective fiction, or mystery novels, or whodunnits, but somehow this book just worked for me. I think it's the uniqueness of its focus. For all the hundred thousand historical novels about the middle ages, how many are about the urban poor? And how many acknowledge the savagery and classism of the rich? I'm easily won over by that novelty.
A lovely little novella about the evils of academia, this is a lovely answer to all of the weird self-obsession that tends to come with the dark academia genre. At no point does the novel glorify the horrors professors often put their students through, the obsession, the anxiety; it holds a mirror up to the selfish thrill of self-annihilation and asks us to care for ourselves before our careers, because that is so much harder and so much more painful.
I was immediately reminded of Cornwell and Forrester in reading this-- Hornblower's interest in Whist and Cornwell's amazing ability to set the scene are clearly influences on this novel. However, I found it largely a disappointment; so much of the narrative is tied up in the main character, Thomas Hill, and the problem with Thomas Hill is that he has no flaws. He faces consequences, yes, but all his victories come to him easily, through luck, chance, or skill. Well written, but ultimately forgettable, with a disappointing lack of any meaningful character development.
I like my horror to be a bit gorier or spookier than this one was willing to go, but I can't pretend it wasn't compellingly written, seeing as I read it in one day.
Ultimately, this horror / dystopia / alt history severely pulls its punches with regard to the ending. It's barely spooky, barely horrific, and so light on the dystopian and alt-historical detail that the whole thing feels unsatisfying. The use of end notes to render unreliability and worldbuilding is pretty interesting, however.
This book could have been four chapters shorter. Like, just snip off the last four chapters and the epilogue, and it would have been much stronger. In general, the latter half of the book really suffers for the author feeling the need to tie off all the loose ends, when the nature of the tragedy the characters face means the reader is more likely to accept loose ends.
But whatever. This series has always been a massive mixed bag for me. I love the concept! More historical novels should be written from the perspective of the poor, the enslaved, the non-elite, the people who mainstream history not only forgets but actively erases.
Yet the series is full of pulled punches. Elodie Harper wants to write a character who has experienced-- and on the page present-tense <i>experiences</i>-- sexual assault, but she doesn't want to actually depict it in any detail, graphic or otherwise. She wants to write about the sexual humiliation enslaved women face, but, again, she doesn't actually want to depict it, or its aftermath, except in the vaguest of terms. She wants to write a story about a woman making hard choices and sacrifices, but she's unwilling to let her protagonists get anything less than everything she wants, and won't let secondary or tertiary characters die after the first book. This book is courting a cozycore crowd, but it deals with sexual violence. While sex scenes-- consensual and otherwise-- are not always faded to black, they're always applied with a heavy gaussian blur. The end result is a book that isn't half as visceral as it could be, with weak attempts at meaning that, if the author were brave enough to put what she implies on the page in black and white, would be so much stronger and more complete.
But there are so, so, <i>so</I> few historical novels from the perspective of characters like Amara. I can't not love it, at least a little.