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littlemonster's reviews
562 reviews
Spitting Gold by Carmella Lowkis
adventurous
dark
emotional
funny
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: homophobia/lesbophobia, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, murder, animal death.
Sylvie Mothe was once a conwoman. Now, she's a Baroness, married to a wealthy man who loves her wholeheartedly -- but knows very little of her past. When the past comes barging back in, in the form of her sister, Charlotte, asking for her help one last time, Sylvie feels she has little choice, stuck between family and her husband, poverty and high society. Their mark is the formerly aristocratic de Jacquinots, who are convinced that they are being haunted by their great-aunt, brought down during the French Revolution. But as Sylvie and Charlotte fall ever deeper into the web that they are spinning, caught up in the dark secrets of their own family and those of the de Jacquinots, they will be forced to confront terrors far worse than ghosts.
A remarkable debut! As soon as I saw this was being pitched as "perfect for fans of Sarah Waters," I had very high hopes -- and speaking truthfully, very high expectations, too. I'm pleased to say that Spitting Gold hit its mark with almost complete perfection for me, full of twists and turns, and dark family secrets that will have you dying to pick it up again once you've been forced to sit it down. The writing is lovely, maintaining a period feeling throughout the book, without ever straying into being too dense or feeling as if the author is trying too hard to impart the sensation that you are reading something set in the 1860s. This is a time period and place rich with potential, haunted (both literally and figuratively) by the ghosts of the French Revolution, the Terror, and France as a rising empire, and Lowkis does an excellent job of making the most out of it.
At the center of the story are the Mothe sisters, born into Paris in poverty, inheriting their family's profession of mediumship. Neither of the sisters have ever seen a real ghost, and are firm skeptics, though Charlotte occasionally finds herself seeking out the other side beyond their cons, hoping to make some connection with their deceased mother. Sylvie is more practical, and it's this practicality that leads her into marrying a Baron and cutting herself off from her sister and father. The relationship between Sylvie and Charlotte is rendered with real emotion and complexity, and speaking from my experience, accurate in its depiction of sisterhood. There is love and tenderness between the girls, but resentment, envy, and sometimes ugliness, and I applaud Lowkis for allowing her characters to be fully realized -- and not always sympathetic.
The de Jacquinots create a fascinating counter to the Mothes, former aristocrats who cling to their nobility and the status afforded to them before the French Revolution. Florence and her brother, Maximilien, act as our guide into the family, and while both of their characters are fully dimensional and interesting in their own respect, their mother and grandfather, Ardoir, suffer some in comparison. They are not focal points in the book by any means, but I think it would have added to the intrigue had they been a touch more fleshed out.
All in all, this was a fantastic debut and perfectly suited to my tastes. I only knocked off half a star for some imperfections that are to be expected in a debut -- some plodding moments, some weak characterization at times, etc. -- but otherwise there are very few flaws to be found here. I cannot wait to see what Lowkis will put out next, and I'm definitely adding this onto my favorites list.
The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye by Briony Cameron
In Yáquimo, Santo Domingo, Jacquotte Delahaye works as a shipwright. Although she's not well-known yet, she dreams of bigger things, recognition and perhaps the chance to take to the seas herself, but finds herself constricted by her race, gender, and her selfish, drunkard French father. But when Jacquotte's childhood friendship with the Governor of Yáquimo's nephew forces her to choose between her future and her father, Jacquotte's world quickly descends into chaos, and her chance at freedom is stolen from her by the notorious Captain Blackhand -- a pirate who takes Jacquotte onto his ship as an indentured servant. As Blackhand hatches a dangerous, risky plan to steal Portuguese riches, Jacquotte must rely on her wits and her iron-will to survive, especially as she begins to realize that there may be room for her dream of a captaincy -- and that it will change her life forever.
The setting of this story was what captured me first. Haiti is rich in culture and history, and it was exciting to see a book set there, particularly one that starred a biracial pirate as its heroine. Jacquotte Delahaye is a Haitian legend, and while there is no tangible proof that she actually existed, she has lived on in the imagination of a people who have been through much suffering and tempestuous change. The idea of a book that tells her story from her perspective, and elaborates on her life as a woman of color, is refreshing and exciting. However, I can't say that this was the most enjoyable read for me, nor did I find myself ever truly captivated by what was happening in its pages.
The main issue I struggled with was Cameron's writing style. While I'm not terribly picky over writing, and I can read most anything as long as it's grammatically correct and well edited, this was too dry for me. All of the sentences seem to follow the same rhythm, and they're all short, without much emotion or depth to them. For example, in scenes where something frightening or traumatic is happening, it feels as if we're reading a screenplay rather than a novel -- and we never quite seem to get a real hold on what is going on inside of Jacquotte's mind. She remains strangely elusive throughout, and has no real discernible personality of her own, aside from caring about justice and being hellbent on revenge. Her relationship with Teresa, her romantic interest, is similarly dull, though there are some moments that shine through, like their interactions on Port Royal.
I've complained about this perhaps a hundred times now, but the romance has the same problem I encounter time and time again within books featuring lesbian or bisexual women -- there's no real connection or buildup; they simply fall in love immediately, and even if they have issues to work through (and Teresa and Jacquotte have plenty), it never comes off as having quite the emotional depth or impact it should. I don't know why this is so common, and I know it happens often with heterosexual relationships in media too (instalove is a trope for a reason), but it's as if most writers somehow feel that because these two women have found one another, and they're both interested in other women, they'll instantly connect and fall in love and live happily ever after. It's frustrating, because any complexity that might arise (and again, there is ample opportunity for it here) gets quickly and conveniently swept under the rug.
The rest of the characters all have the same issue. Francisco, Miguel, Blackhand, Mbala -- all of them are written as archetypes, with little else going on beneath the surface. There's attempts at adding depth to them, but it never quite works. On the other hand, everything comes off as just slightly corny and a little too perfect. It's never quite believable that Jacquotte's ragtag crew comes together so easily and is almost immediately fantastic at everything they do, and it's just a little boring, especially because it seems like everyone who likes each other just gets along so well all of the time.
I guess it'd be easiest to say I liked the concept of this book more than its execution. I wanted so badly to love it, but it just wasn't something I found myself able to really dive into. There are positive aspects, like Jacquotte's burgeoning relationship to her own queerness and blackness, and her discovery of herself, but most of it is overshadowed by the writing that tells us everything rather than showing it.
I will be intrigued to see what Cameron writes next, and perhaps most of these issues are merely a debut's tribulations, but The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye was a disappointment for me.
adventurous
dark
emotional
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
Thank you to NetGalley and Atria for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: racism, murder, death, sexual assault, racial slurs.
In Yáquimo, Santo Domingo, Jacquotte Delahaye works as a shipwright. Although she's not well-known yet, she dreams of bigger things, recognition and perhaps the chance to take to the seas herself, but finds herself constricted by her race, gender, and her selfish, drunkard French father. But when Jacquotte's childhood friendship with the Governor of Yáquimo's nephew forces her to choose between her future and her father, Jacquotte's world quickly descends into chaos, and her chance at freedom is stolen from her by the notorious Captain Blackhand -- a pirate who takes Jacquotte onto his ship as an indentured servant. As Blackhand hatches a dangerous, risky plan to steal Portuguese riches, Jacquotte must rely on her wits and her iron-will to survive, especially as she begins to realize that there may be room for her dream of a captaincy -- and that it will change her life forever.
The setting of this story was what captured me first. Haiti is rich in culture and history, and it was exciting to see a book set there, particularly one that starred a biracial pirate as its heroine. Jacquotte Delahaye is a Haitian legend, and while there is no tangible proof that she actually existed, she has lived on in the imagination of a people who have been through much suffering and tempestuous change. The idea of a book that tells her story from her perspective, and elaborates on her life as a woman of color, is refreshing and exciting. However, I can't say that this was the most enjoyable read for me, nor did I find myself ever truly captivated by what was happening in its pages.
The main issue I struggled with was Cameron's writing style. While I'm not terribly picky over writing, and I can read most anything as long as it's grammatically correct and well edited, this was too dry for me. All of the sentences seem to follow the same rhythm, and they're all short, without much emotion or depth to them. For example, in scenes where something frightening or traumatic is happening, it feels as if we're reading a screenplay rather than a novel -- and we never quite seem to get a real hold on what is going on inside of Jacquotte's mind. She remains strangely elusive throughout, and has no real discernible personality of her own, aside from caring about justice and being hellbent on revenge. Her relationship with Teresa, her romantic interest, is similarly dull, though there are some moments that shine through, like their interactions on Port Royal.
I've complained about this perhaps a hundred times now, but the romance has the same problem I encounter time and time again within books featuring lesbian or bisexual women -- there's no real connection or buildup; they simply fall in love immediately, and even if they have issues to work through (and Teresa and Jacquotte have plenty), it never comes off as having quite the emotional depth or impact it should. I don't know why this is so common, and I know it happens often with heterosexual relationships in media too (instalove is a trope for a reason), but it's as if most writers somehow feel that because these two women have found one another, and they're both interested in other women, they'll instantly connect and fall in love and live happily ever after. It's frustrating, because any complexity that might arise (and again, there is ample opportunity for it here) gets quickly and conveniently swept under the rug.
The rest of the characters all have the same issue. Francisco, Miguel, Blackhand, Mbala -- all of them are written as archetypes, with little else going on beneath the surface. There's attempts at adding depth to them, but it never quite works. On the other hand, everything comes off as just slightly corny and a little too perfect. It's never quite believable that Jacquotte's ragtag crew comes together so easily and is almost immediately fantastic at everything they do, and it's just a little boring, especially because it seems like everyone who likes each other just gets along so well all of the time.
I guess it'd be easiest to say I liked the concept of this book more than its execution. I wanted so badly to love it, but it just wasn't something I found myself able to really dive into. There are positive aspects, like Jacquotte's burgeoning relationship to her own queerness and blackness, and her discovery of herself, but most of it is overshadowed by the writing that tells us everything rather than showing it.
I will be intrigued to see what Cameron writes next, and perhaps most of these issues are merely a debut's tribulations, but The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye was a disappointment for me.
Immortal Pleasures by V. Castro
adventurous
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
1.5
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: racism, murder, death, colonialism, sexual assault/rape, misogyny.
Malinalli is known the world over as La Malinche: a traitor, the Nahua woman who helped Hernán Cortés colonize and, ultimately, destroy her own people. But what they don't know is that after Cortés was done with her usefulness, Malinalli was turned into an immortal blood drinker -- a vampire. Searching for purpose, Malinalli has made a name for herself by reclaiming the stolen artifacts and treasures of her people, carelessly observed in museums around the world, hoping to heal the broken heart that has plagued her century after century. What she longs for most is someone to understand her, to embrace both her human side and her dark, vampiric nature. When she arrives in Dublin, eager to retrieve two Aztec skulls that are tied intimately with her past, she meets a mortal who manages to capture her interest. But this mortal is not the only one who snakes his way into her life, and as Malinalli learns to embrace her desires and recuperate from the traumas of her human life, she will be pushed to the limits of what she understands of vampirism and the human will to overcome.
Before I'd even finished reading Immortal Pleasures, I knew that this was going to be a difficult review to write. While this is certainly a unique experience, unlike anything I've read before, structurally and narratively speaking, it's simply not a very good book. It's hard to write that, as I try to be as fair as possible when writing these reviews -- as someone who writes myself, I know how painful the criticism can be. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy reading this, because I very much did, but man, is it corny and sometimes way, way too over the top.
Now, I don't mind some corniness in my vampire media, but this was to the point that it was taking all of my self-control not to cringe during certain passages. Sadly, the writing doesn't come off as very polished either, and although Malinalli is such a fascinating figure in history, rife with so much misunderstanding, I found that Castro never quite managed to make her feel believable, either as a human being or a creature of the night. Her character development is as equally cheesy as the rest of the story, and all of it somehow feels extremely juvenile, in spite of the very dark and sometimes disturbing content matter. Malinalli reads very much like a teenager, and although I could buy that this comes from her traumatic past starting at such a young age, it's been hundreds of years at this point, and I would expect at least some maturation in her character.
The rest of the characters suffer from similar problems, and I found both of her lovers, Colin and Alexander, to be a little laughable in their dialogue and characterization. In fact, all of the dialogue comes across as being wooden and stiff, as if they are in a Shakespearean play, reading off of a piece of paper. Much of it feels very much like telling us rather than showing us, and I was surprised by how little we actually get to experience of Malinalli's human life. I expected much more of it, since it's so rich for reimagining in a tale like this.
Onto the fun stuff, though: this is one hell of a ride, and I can't fault it for its constant breakneck pace, the way it relentlessly doles out blood and sex. I truly cannot describe to you how unintentionally hilarious the sex scenes are; there are many other reviews with quotes from the book, and I encourage you to read those if you're having a bad day. I'm not saying this to be cruel or mean, but man, some of those lines are truly hilarious zingers.
In the end, this simply wasn't the book for me. As I always say, I'm sure there will be plenty of people out there who enjoy Immortal Pleasures, but for me, this just didn't quite hit the mark.
A Sweet Sting of Salt by Rose Sutherland
Jean is one of the only midwives for miles around. When she's awoken in the middle of the night -- during a storm -- by a cry of pain, it's instinct that sends her outside. Standing there is a woman she's never seen before, half in the marsh, and to Jean's expert eye, clearly in labor. As Jean helps the woman during and after the birth, it becomes obvious to her that this is the wife of her only neighbor, and that she speaks painfully little English. Doing their best to communicate, Jean finds herself drawn into the mystery of Muirinn's life, put off, for some reason that she can't quite place her finger on, by Muirinn's husband, Tobias. Struggling with her growing feelings for this stranger, Jean gradually discovers that there's more than meets the eye when it comes to her neighbors, and that some secrets are worth killing for.
First and foremost, A Sweet Sting of Salt is perhaps one of the most lushly, gorgeously written books I've had the pleasure of reading in some time. Sutherland is masterly at crafting beautiful sentences, of using words with creativity, but never to the point of making her writing inaccessible or too much. Anyone reviewing this book would be remiss not to mention her talent, and it's obvious to me that she is the type of person who is a natural at what she does. It came as a surprise to me that this was a debut, based on the quality and level of the writing and overall feel of the novel.
Our heroine, Jean, is very likable, feisty but sensible, and although I did like Muirinn as well, I was left with the feeling that we didn't get to know her quite as well. If I was forced to describe her personality, I'd be left sitting a bit blank. She's brave, I suppose, and adventurous, based off of what we hear in the latter half of the book, but beyond that, she struck me as being slightly underdeveloped. Jean fares much better as the narrator of the events taking place, but the relationship between them is rushed. It's perhaps not quite instalove, but something very close to it, and the pacing of their developing interest in each other was a little too quick for my tastes.
In many ways, this book suffers from pacing issues, not only with the relationship between the two main characters. In the beginning everything is happening too fast, and by the middle, too slowly. I think these problems are common for a debut, and while they did lessen my enjoyment some, it wasn't enough to put me off of the book. Most likely, Sutherland's next book will have ironed some of these issues out, so I do advise everyone to take some of the problems I mention here with these elements in mind.
Something else I didn't like was the coincidental nature of the finale. It was a bit unbelievable, even for a book with fantasy elements based off of a folktale. I didn't like how Laurie's story connects with Jean's, and there were times I was inclined to roll my eyes at how perfectly and easily everything seems to pan out for everyone. It's impossible to discuss without spoiling the ending, but that was perhaps the part I liked least. And one more thing I have to mention: the introspection. It's far, far too much. I'm truly surprised that Sutherland's editor didn't catch onto it, and have her cut the majority of it out. It slows the book down considerably, and nearly manages to make it boring.
Overall, I think this is a beautiful book, and most of its problems come with a first time author. Sutherland nonetheless has created something beautiful here, and I can't wait to see what she'll come out with next!
adventurous
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
tense
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? It's complicated
3.5
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: homophobia/lesbophobia, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, murder, animal death,
Jean is one of the only midwives for miles around. When she's awoken in the middle of the night -- during a storm -- by a cry of pain, it's instinct that sends her outside. Standing there is a woman she's never seen before, half in the marsh, and to Jean's expert eye, clearly in labor. As Jean helps the woman during and after the birth, it becomes obvious to her that this is the wife of her only neighbor, and that she speaks painfully little English. Doing their best to communicate, Jean finds herself drawn into the mystery of Muirinn's life, put off, for some reason that she can't quite place her finger on, by Muirinn's husband, Tobias. Struggling with her growing feelings for this stranger, Jean gradually discovers that there's more than meets the eye when it comes to her neighbors, and that some secrets are worth killing for.
First and foremost, A Sweet Sting of Salt is perhaps one of the most lushly, gorgeously written books I've had the pleasure of reading in some time. Sutherland is masterly at crafting beautiful sentences, of using words with creativity, but never to the point of making her writing inaccessible or too much. Anyone reviewing this book would be remiss not to mention her talent, and it's obvious to me that she is the type of person who is a natural at what she does. It came as a surprise to me that this was a debut, based on the quality and level of the writing and overall feel of the novel.
Our heroine, Jean, is very likable, feisty but sensible, and although I did like Muirinn as well, I was left with the feeling that we didn't get to know her quite as well. If I was forced to describe her personality, I'd be left sitting a bit blank. She's brave, I suppose, and adventurous, based off of what we hear in the latter half of the book, but beyond that, she struck me as being slightly underdeveloped. Jean fares much better as the narrator of the events taking place, but the relationship between them is rushed. It's perhaps not quite instalove, but something very close to it, and the pacing of their developing interest in each other was a little too quick for my tastes.
In many ways, this book suffers from pacing issues, not only with the relationship between the two main characters. In the beginning everything is happening too fast, and by the middle, too slowly. I think these problems are common for a debut, and while they did lessen my enjoyment some, it wasn't enough to put me off of the book. Most likely, Sutherland's next book will have ironed some of these issues out, so I do advise everyone to take some of the problems I mention here with these elements in mind.
Something else I didn't like was the coincidental nature of the finale. It was a bit unbelievable, even for a book with fantasy elements based off of a folktale. I didn't like how Laurie's story connects with Jean's, and there were times I was inclined to roll my eyes at how perfectly and easily everything seems to pan out for everyone. It's impossible to discuss without spoiling the ending, but that was perhaps the part I liked least. And one more thing I have to mention: the introspection. It's far, far too much. I'm truly surprised that Sutherland's editor didn't catch onto it, and have her cut the majority of it out. It slows the book down considerably, and nearly manages to make it boring.
Overall, I think this is a beautiful book, and most of its problems come with a first time author. Sutherland nonetheless has created something beautiful here, and I can't wait to see what she'll come out with next!
The Absinthe Underground by Jamie Pacton
Sybil and Esme live in Severon, a decadent, sprawling city full of nightclubs, art, and beauty. For the two girls, however, life there is not all it seems: they're struggling, barely supported by their meager jobs, each of them dreaming of a future where they can spread their wings. Sybil longs for adventure, for something beyond the boredom of her humdrum daily life; Esme, on the other hand, is only too content to work at a library and have a home filled with cats. Despite their differences, they're best friends, and when they're drawn into the world of Fae by the beautiful, mysterious Maeve, it's together. Maeve promises them riches that they can't even fathom, if they do one thing for her: steal the royal jewels from the Fae Queen.
It was the intriguing setting of The Absinthe Underground that truly made me decide to request an ARC. The story (partly) takes place in the city of Severon, inspired by Belle Epoque Paris. It's a unique idea for a story, especially when most fantasy books seem to draw their inspiration from medieval Ireland or England. Although it didn't up being quite to my tastes, I would love to see more people following Pacton's lead and giving us stories with unusual settings!
Our two heroines, Sybil and Esme, are complete opposites, but despite their differences (or perhaps because of them), they're inexplicably attracted to each other. Unfortunately, I say inexplicable because aside from small things like enjoying each other's company and finding one another attractive, there's very little character development for either of the girls -- and this impacts their relationship, too. Although I liked both of them well enough and found their narration pleasant, their individual storylines and characterization are remarkably one-dimensional. They both have a set of traits and characteristics that the author has decided for them, and they never veer far from these predetermined boxes. This ends up limiting the narrative and its ultimate conclusion. To make matters worse, the writing tells us and doesn't show us, and this prevents you from feeling totally immersed in the world.
Don't get me wrong -- their relationship is sweet, and I did enjoy their moments of flirtatiousness very much. But the lack of growth is disappointing especially because the two girls are likable. Another problem that surfaces is that tonally speaking, The Absinthe Underground reads more as middle-grade than YA (in spite of the many, many references to alcohol and drinking, which I found slightly odd). It's a little jarring, as Sybil and Esme are referred to as being seventeen several times, but they come across much younger in their POVs. This isn't necessarily a problem but, for me, it occasionally made the story disjointed.
The primary problem, however, is that everything is so convenient. This is low, low stakes, which isn't always a problem, but for a heist in Fae, it seems a little lackluster. Somehow, someway, everything always works out for Sybil and Esme, to the point where you begin to wonder what's the point of reading anyway, since you know everything will work out in the end. Some people enjoy stories like that, and I have no doubt that there will be many readers who appreciate The Absinthe Underground, but it was boring for me to watch them get into sticky situation after sticky situation only for their problems to be miraculously solved. It gets into unbelievable territory towards the end. Before the last act, I was planning on giving out two and a half stars, but that felt a bit too generous by the last page. It also suffers from everyone being painfully transparent, and you have to either believe that Sybil and Esme are extremely naive, or extremely stupid.
Ultimately, this story just wasn't for me. Again, I have no doubt that many readers, especially young ones, will find a lot to love here, but it simply wasn't my cup of tea.
adventurous
hopeful
lighthearted
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Peachtree for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: minor violence, alcohol.
Sybil and Esme live in Severon, a decadent, sprawling city full of nightclubs, art, and beauty. For the two girls, however, life there is not all it seems: they're struggling, barely supported by their meager jobs, each of them dreaming of a future where they can spread their wings. Sybil longs for adventure, for something beyond the boredom of her humdrum daily life; Esme, on the other hand, is only too content to work at a library and have a home filled with cats. Despite their differences, they're best friends, and when they're drawn into the world of Fae by the beautiful, mysterious Maeve, it's together. Maeve promises them riches that they can't even fathom, if they do one thing for her: steal the royal jewels from the Fae Queen.
It was the intriguing setting of The Absinthe Underground that truly made me decide to request an ARC. The story (partly) takes place in the city of Severon, inspired by Belle Epoque Paris. It's a unique idea for a story, especially when most fantasy books seem to draw their inspiration from medieval Ireland or England. Although it didn't up being quite to my tastes, I would love to see more people following Pacton's lead and giving us stories with unusual settings!
Our two heroines, Sybil and Esme, are complete opposites, but despite their differences (or perhaps because of them), they're inexplicably attracted to each other. Unfortunately, I say inexplicable because aside from small things like enjoying each other's company and finding one another attractive, there's very little character development for either of the girls -- and this impacts their relationship, too. Although I liked both of them well enough and found their narration pleasant, their individual storylines and characterization are remarkably one-dimensional. They both have a set of traits and characteristics that the author has decided for them, and they never veer far from these predetermined boxes. This ends up limiting the narrative and its ultimate conclusion. To make matters worse, the writing tells us and doesn't show us, and this prevents you from feeling totally immersed in the world.
Don't get me wrong -- their relationship is sweet, and I did enjoy their moments of flirtatiousness very much. But the lack of growth is disappointing especially because the two girls are likable. Another problem that surfaces is that tonally speaking, The Absinthe Underground reads more as middle-grade than YA (in spite of the many, many references to alcohol and drinking, which I found slightly odd). It's a little jarring, as Sybil and Esme are referred to as being seventeen several times, but they come across much younger in their POVs. This isn't necessarily a problem but, for me, it occasionally made the story disjointed.
The primary problem, however, is that everything is so convenient. This is low, low stakes, which isn't always a problem, but for a heist in Fae, it seems a little lackluster. Somehow, someway, everything always works out for Sybil and Esme, to the point where you begin to wonder what's the point of reading anyway, since you know everything will work out in the end. Some people enjoy stories like that, and I have no doubt that there will be many readers who appreciate The Absinthe Underground, but it was boring for me to watch them get into sticky situation after sticky situation only for their problems to be miraculously solved. It gets into unbelievable territory towards the end. Before the last act, I was planning on giving out two and a half stars, but that felt a bit too generous by the last page. It also suffers from everyone being painfully transparent, and you have to either believe that Sybil and Esme are extremely naive, or extremely stupid.
Ultimately, this story just wasn't for me. Again, I have no doubt that many readers, especially young ones, will find a lot to love here, but it simply wasn't my cup of tea.
Blood Sisters by Vanessa Lillie
Syd Walker is haunted. Fifteen years ago, a single night in her small Oklahoma hometown changed her life forever, driving her to move to Rhode Island and leave behind her family. Although she's sworn she'd never go back, Syd also works for the Bureau of Indian Affairs as an archeologist, and the past has come calling with the discovery of a skull on a piece of land that is near and dear to Syd's heart. When she returns to Picher, she's shocked to find out that her sister, Emma Lou, has vanished -- and begins to suspect that her sister's disappearance is linked to the skull and to that night so many years ago that Syd has been running from ever since.
An exploration of the murdered and missing Indigenous women epidemic, Blood Sisters is set in the small, now abandoned, town of Picher. In 2009, Picher was officially declared as uninhabitable, owing to its high level of toxicity due to waste from mines. Our heroine, Syd, grows up amongst the chat piles, playing with her friends until the day that her life changes forever. While the premise itself is interesting, and the featuring of Picher adds another layer of depth and intrigue, the execution simply did not live up to its potential.
Syd, our narrator, is one of the main problems. She's neither interesting nor likable enough to carry the novel on her back, and what's most jarring about her is that she constantly and consistently makes decisions that are simply unbelievable. In spite of the fact that she works as an archeologist for the BIA, and there seems to be the suggestion of her intelligence, she acts and operates in a way that can only be described as stupid. It's understandable that she values her own life very little, a common problem that arises with survivor's guilt, but she also seems to not think very much about the people in her life and how her actions put them into danger, too. You would think this would be something she'd be highly aware of, due to her past, but apparently, that's not the case.
There's a gimmick that doesn't work well in this book -- I won't spoil it, although it happens very early in the book and continues until the end. It somehow felt cheap, and as if the author was looking for a way to impart information that Syd couldn't know, making the eventual reveal of what's truly happening all the more eyeroll inducing. In a further exploration of what I mentioned with Syd's character, it's also worth noting that none of the other characters fare very well, either. All of them are flat and one-dimensional, and sometimes the characterization (particularly in regards to one character at the end of the book, which I can't go into without spoiling the entirety of the plot) feels like it's out of a bad action movie.
The plot completely and totally goes off the rails. It's melodramatic, it's unbelievable, and it makes you want to put the book down and not pick it back up again. It's hard to believe what you're reading. It becomes so convoluted, so much like the aforementioned B action movie, that it loses any interesting threads it's picked up along the way. I was actually quite shocked that Lillie went down the route that she did, and the second half of the book is where it really all went downhill for me -- ending up with only two stars.
I'm giving Blood Sisters two stars only because the first couple of chapters are pretty good, and I think the premise was unique and interesting, but it's not something I'd pick up to read twice.
adventurous
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Berkley for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: violence, death, misogyny, racism, off-page sexual assault/rape.
Syd Walker is haunted. Fifteen years ago, a single night in her small Oklahoma hometown changed her life forever, driving her to move to Rhode Island and leave behind her family. Although she's sworn she'd never go back, Syd also works for the Bureau of Indian Affairs as an archeologist, and the past has come calling with the discovery of a skull on a piece of land that is near and dear to Syd's heart. When she returns to Picher, she's shocked to find out that her sister, Emma Lou, has vanished -- and begins to suspect that her sister's disappearance is linked to the skull and to that night so many years ago that Syd has been running from ever since.
An exploration of the murdered and missing Indigenous women epidemic, Blood Sisters is set in the small, now abandoned, town of Picher. In 2009, Picher was officially declared as uninhabitable, owing to its high level of toxicity due to waste from mines. Our heroine, Syd, grows up amongst the chat piles, playing with her friends until the day that her life changes forever. While the premise itself is interesting, and the featuring of Picher adds another layer of depth and intrigue, the execution simply did not live up to its potential.
Syd, our narrator, is one of the main problems. She's neither interesting nor likable enough to carry the novel on her back, and what's most jarring about her is that she constantly and consistently makes decisions that are simply unbelievable. In spite of the fact that she works as an archeologist for the BIA, and there seems to be the suggestion of her intelligence, she acts and operates in a way that can only be described as stupid. It's understandable that she values her own life very little, a common problem that arises with survivor's guilt, but she also seems to not think very much about the people in her life and how her actions put them into danger, too. You would think this would be something she'd be highly aware of, due to her past, but apparently, that's not the case.
There's a gimmick that doesn't work well in this book -- I won't spoil it, although it happens very early in the book and continues until the end. It somehow felt cheap, and as if the author was looking for a way to impart information that Syd couldn't know, making the eventual reveal of what's truly happening all the more eyeroll inducing. In a further exploration of what I mentioned with Syd's character, it's also worth noting that none of the other characters fare very well, either. All of them are flat and one-dimensional, and sometimes the characterization (particularly in regards to one character at the end of the book, which I can't go into without spoiling the entirety of the plot) feels like it's out of a bad action movie.
The plot completely and totally goes off the rails. It's melodramatic, it's unbelievable, and it makes you want to put the book down and not pick it back up again. It's hard to believe what you're reading. It becomes so convoluted, so much like the aforementioned B action movie, that it loses any interesting threads it's picked up along the way. I was actually quite shocked that Lillie went down the route that she did, and the second half of the book is where it really all went downhill for me -- ending up with only two stars.
I'm giving Blood Sisters two stars only because the first couple of chapters are pretty good, and I think the premise was unique and interesting, but it's not something I'd pick up to read twice.
Learned by Heart by Emma Donoghue
Eliza Raine is different than the other girls who attend the Manor School for Young Ladies in York. She's the daughter of an Englishman and an Indian mother, a woman who was not formally wed, and when she returned to her father's home country as a little girl, it was a fact she was made distinctly aware of. Only fourteen, she keeps to herself at school, isolated in a room by herself, away from the other bedrooms. But when Anne Lister arrives -- charismatic, fearless, bold Anne -- Eliza's world is turned upside down and, as the two girls grow up, their relationship will leave indelible marks on them both.
Anne Lister is considered one of the world's "first modern lesbians." She was, as I described her in this book's summary, bold and charming -- a true go-getter in every sense of the word. While there have been quite a few adaptations and books revolving around her life (including the wonderful and critically acclaimed Gentleman Jack, which has managed to bring her into cultural consciousness), few have made little more than a passing mention to her education at a school York, where, at only fourteen, she fell in love for the first time with another girl. This girl has, for the most part, faded from history: Anglo-Indian, the daughter of a doctor, and someone who paid the price for daring to be fearless, something that whiteness and wealth seemed to protect Lister from.
Eliza is our narrator, and we alternate between passages of her memories of them as schoolgirls, and her letters written to Anne some ten years later. At first, as a fourteen year old child, Eliza is hesitant, doing her best not to get any marks at the Manor, keenly aware of the fact that while her compatriots may get away with some things because of their whiteness and privilege, she will not. She stays in a room by herself, sequestered away on the other end of the building, never quite sure if it was intentional or merely because of convenience. Her life suddenly becomes interesting, however, with the entrance of Anne -- and if, like me, you've read about Eliza and Anne before, you might have an idea where all of this is going.
Donoghue is truly a master at her craft. She so effortlessly and seamlessly weaves together true emotion, humor, and something quite heavier, all while spinning together such beautiful sentences that I sometimes had to pause just to appreciate them. Perhaps it comes from years spent perfecting her writing, but there surely has to be something else, something innate, that makes her so damn talented.
She is an expert at capturing whatever time period she's writing about, and it's obvious that she does very intensive research. As you might expect from the novel's plot, there are many heavy topics addressed here -- sexism, racism, homophobia, and more -- and Donoghue does it with both a sense of how important they are, and sometimes with a little tongue-in-cheek.
In particular, though, the racism that Eliza experiences is very thoughtfully dealt with, and I think Donoghue does an excellent job of showing us just how much white privilege allows Anne to get away with what she does. Anne, of course, faced many challenges throughout her lifetime, and as a butch lesbian in the nineteenth century, her obstacles are nothing to be sneered at, but the juxtaposition of Eliza's life with Anne's makes a clearcut display of how wealthy white people are allowed to be eccentric, or different, without losing their liberty.
Another element I must compliment is that Donoghue does not romanticize Anne. If you've read her journals or studied her life to some degree, it becomes obvious that Anne was many things, but she was not often kind, nor was she very self-aware. She could be avaricious and cruel, and more often than not, she discarded her many lovers with seemingly little care to their feelings or the impact on their futures. Not to say that there weren't many good things about her, but it's nice to see this realistic, flawed portrayal of her, something like the real person. Eliza, too, has her flaws, and the characterization and development is yet another reason why Learned by Heart was a five star read for me.
Ultimately, the storyline here is tragic, and I was moved nearly to tears by the end. This book is beautiful, and wrung real emotions out of me. Because of Donoghue's decision to uplift the voice of a woman who was silenced in real life, I will always remember Eliza Raine.
Highly, highly recommended -- get yourself a copy as soon as you're able.
adventurous
dark
emotional
funny
informative
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: racism, misogyny, homophobia, death.
Eliza Raine is different than the other girls who attend the Manor School for Young Ladies in York. She's the daughter of an Englishman and an Indian mother, a woman who was not formally wed, and when she returned to her father's home country as a little girl, it was a fact she was made distinctly aware of. Only fourteen, she keeps to herself at school, isolated in a room by herself, away from the other bedrooms. But when Anne Lister arrives -- charismatic, fearless, bold Anne -- Eliza's world is turned upside down and, as the two girls grow up, their relationship will leave indelible marks on them both.
Anne Lister is considered one of the world's "first modern lesbians." She was, as I described her in this book's summary, bold and charming -- a true go-getter in every sense of the word. While there have been quite a few adaptations and books revolving around her life (including the wonderful and critically acclaimed Gentleman Jack, which has managed to bring her into cultural consciousness), few have made little more than a passing mention to her education at a school York, where, at only fourteen, she fell in love for the first time with another girl. This girl has, for the most part, faded from history: Anglo-Indian, the daughter of a doctor, and someone who paid the price for daring to be fearless, something that whiteness and wealth seemed to protect Lister from.
Eliza is our narrator, and we alternate between passages of her memories of them as schoolgirls, and her letters written to Anne some ten years later. At first, as a fourteen year old child, Eliza is hesitant, doing her best not to get any marks at the Manor, keenly aware of the fact that while her compatriots may get away with some things because of their whiteness and privilege, she will not. She stays in a room by herself, sequestered away on the other end of the building, never quite sure if it was intentional or merely because of convenience. Her life suddenly becomes interesting, however, with the entrance of Anne -- and if, like me, you've read about Eliza and Anne before, you might have an idea where all of this is going.
Donoghue is truly a master at her craft. She so effortlessly and seamlessly weaves together true emotion, humor, and something quite heavier, all while spinning together such beautiful sentences that I sometimes had to pause just to appreciate them. Perhaps it comes from years spent perfecting her writing, but there surely has to be something else, something innate, that makes her so damn talented.
She is an expert at capturing whatever time period she's writing about, and it's obvious that she does very intensive research. As you might expect from the novel's plot, there are many heavy topics addressed here -- sexism, racism, homophobia, and more -- and Donoghue does it with both a sense of how important they are, and sometimes with a little tongue-in-cheek.
In particular, though, the racism that Eliza experiences is very thoughtfully dealt with, and I think Donoghue does an excellent job of showing us just how much white privilege allows Anne to get away with what she does. Anne, of course, faced many challenges throughout her lifetime, and as a butch lesbian in the nineteenth century, her obstacles are nothing to be sneered at, but the juxtaposition of Eliza's life with Anne's makes a clearcut display of how wealthy white people are allowed to be eccentric, or different, without losing their liberty.
Another element I must compliment is that Donoghue does not romanticize Anne. If you've read her journals or studied her life to some degree, it becomes obvious that Anne was many things, but she was not often kind, nor was she very self-aware. She could be avaricious and cruel, and more often than not, she discarded her many lovers with seemingly little care to their feelings or the impact on their futures. Not to say that there weren't many good things about her, but it's nice to see this realistic, flawed portrayal of her, something like the real person. Eliza, too, has her flaws, and the characterization and development is yet another reason why Learned by Heart was a five star read for me.
Ultimately, the storyline here is tragic, and I was moved nearly to tears by the end. This book is beautiful, and wrung real emotions out of me. Because of Donoghue's decision to uplift the voice of a woman who was silenced in real life, I will always remember Eliza Raine.
Highly, highly recommended -- get yourself a copy as soon as you're able.
He Who Drowned the World by Shelley Parker-Chan
Zhu Yuanzhang is so close to being on top of the world. After her shocking victory with her peasant uprising, Zhu has implemented herself as the Radiant King, and doesn't plan to stop there. Her old enemies, however, have not forgotten her -- and after her rise to power, she's created many new ones in the process, too. One of them is Madame Zhang, the former courtesan who is just as willing to claw her way up the ladder as Zhu is, and she's quickly becoming Zhu's most daunting opponent. In the hopes of overcoming Madame Zhang and making her way to Dadu, where she can seize the throne for herself, Zhu is forced to ally herself with General Ouyang, the very man who was once her fiercest competitor. But unbeknownst to any of these contenders, Wang Baoxiang -- Esen-Temur's scorned and ridiculed scholar brother -- has made his way back to the capital and, with his calculating maneuvers, may just bring the entire empire to its knees.
There are no words in the English language that could accurately describe how excited I have been for the sequel to She Who Became the Sun. It easily became one of my top books of the year, and it will forever remain inscribed in my mind and heart. Parker-Chan has created a world populated with characters who are truly morally gray, and they're never afraid to allow those characters to venture onto the path of darkness and destruction, which is explored much more in depth this time around. Although Zhu remains our protagonist, there's a much heavier focus on Baoxiang, the new Prince of Henan, who is -- much like my beloved General Ouyang -- exclusively fixated on vengeance.
Zhu is and always will be the shining star of the duology, and I greatly enjoyed seeing her growth -- this time around, she actually begins to experience emotions that she hasn't quite encountered before -- and it's just easy to root for her. Her decisions are, more often than not, painful in their mercenariness, and although she makes some choices towards the conclusion that were a bit hard for me to understand (or agree with), she is never not interesting, never the kind of character you wish was off the page. In fact, once again I must applaud Parker-Chan's fearlessness in making Zhu greedy, ruthless, and yet still somehow tender with those she loves. Zhu and Ouyang are posited as mirror images and, while this is undeniably true, He Who Drowned the World makes it more apparent than ever that Ouyang is an example of the path that Zhu could one day find herself on. Ma Xiuying, one of my other favorites, has an extremely complicated arc this time around, and one that I'm still not sure how to feel about.
One of the few flaws in She Who Became the Sun (if you can call it a flaw; it really is just my opinion) is how it underutilizes Ma during much of the book. She gleams constantly with potential, and while Ouyang, Baoxiang, and Zhu are, in many ways, twisted versions of one another, she stands out as being singular. In comparison to all of our main players, she retains a compassion and gentleness that serves to make her simultaneously stronger and more vulnerable to the game. Yet she has a very tiny bit part in this novel, up until the last act, and I can't help but feeling slightly -- I'm not even sure what the correct word would be. Put off, maybe. Maybe one day I'll be able to fully put into words how I feel about Ma's arc, but today isn't that day. All I can say for now is that it was not what I expected nor hoped to see for such an interesting character.
Parker-Chan's writing is gorgeous. This has stayed consistent throughout their books, and most likely will always be a feature of whatever they choose to write. The way they use language is with true craftmanship, and honestly, I'm quite envious of the absolutely stunning sentences they come up with. Just beautiful, and makes the reading fun and flow so well, regardless of the difficult topics being addressed.
And with the mention of difficult topics, there is something else I'd like to touch on. He Who Drowned the World very heavily features rape, sexual assault, and misogyny. Now, these elements are, of course, present within the first book as well, but here they've certainly been dialed up a few notches. We actually get a few on-page rape scenes, and while I don't have any qualms with reading or writing about dark, hard things (and I understand why some authors choose to include such scenes), at some point these things started to feel almost... gratuitous. I hate saying that, as I know that is not Parker-Chan's intention whatsoever, but there were some I particularly took issue with. This time around, it feels almost as if every single female character is being "brought down" or "degraded" by a depiction of rape or sexual assault. Again, I really can't get into it in detail without spoiling many of the big plot points, but it's something I felt remiss not to mention at all, especially since it was something weighing heavily on my mind as I read. The scenes themselves are not extremely graphic, and obviously they're not written to be titillating, but some of them verged on the border of being just too much. Despite Parker-Chan saying that they don't write "grimdark fantasy," this sometimes felt like just that. For me, it's simply an issue of wondering why we have to see all of them on-page. I think some of them could have taken course in the beginning or aftermath without taking anything away from what's going on.
In conclusion, I liked but did not love this book. This ended up being a slightly disappointing end to the duology for me, and while it contained many things I did love, in the end the issues I grappled with throughout my reading kept me from adoring it as a whole. With that being said, I do want to say I love Parker-Chan's writing and characters, and I really can't wait to see what else they come up with. I'll definitely be reading whatever they write next.
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Thank you to NetGalley and Tor for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: violence, death, misogyny, rape, sexual assault, child abuse, homophobia, transphobia, torture, self harm.
Zhu Yuanzhang is so close to being on top of the world. After her shocking victory with her peasant uprising, Zhu has implemented herself as the Radiant King, and doesn't plan to stop there. Her old enemies, however, have not forgotten her -- and after her rise to power, she's created many new ones in the process, too. One of them is Madame Zhang, the former courtesan who is just as willing to claw her way up the ladder as Zhu is, and she's quickly becoming Zhu's most daunting opponent. In the hopes of overcoming Madame Zhang and making her way to Dadu, where she can seize the throne for herself, Zhu is forced to ally herself with General Ouyang, the very man who was once her fiercest competitor. But unbeknownst to any of these contenders, Wang Baoxiang -- Esen-Temur's scorned and ridiculed scholar brother -- has made his way back to the capital and, with his calculating maneuvers, may just bring the entire empire to its knees.
There are no words in the English language that could accurately describe how excited I have been for the sequel to She Who Became the Sun. It easily became one of my top books of the year, and it will forever remain inscribed in my mind and heart. Parker-Chan has created a world populated with characters who are truly morally gray, and they're never afraid to allow those characters to venture onto the path of darkness and destruction, which is explored much more in depth this time around. Although Zhu remains our protagonist, there's a much heavier focus on Baoxiang, the new Prince of Henan, who is -- much like my beloved General Ouyang -- exclusively fixated on vengeance.
Let's start by talking about the arc of my two favorite characters, Zhu and Ouyang. Zhu remains her usual indomitable self, following her ambitions selfishly and ruthlessly. Ouyang has, obviously, taken quite a few knocks, and it's evident in his character, even more so than before. However, I had the sinking feeling as I read this novel that, somehow, Zhu has taken more of backseat than before. That isn't to say that she doesn't get plenty of chapters, or that her arc is not completed, but to me, it seemed as if Parker-Chan was so enjoying Baoxiang's character and his chapters that they sort of put everyone else on the backburner. While I like Baoxiang well enough, and he's very interesting, the nucleus of everything being on him was a bit disappointing for me. Some of my problems with him arise later in the book, and truthfully, I can't discuss those issues without spoiling the ending of He Who Drowned the World. But, I think it'll have to do to say that while the novel seems intent on having us sympathize with him, I found that extremely difficult to do as the plot progressed.
Zhu is and always will be the shining star of the duology, and I greatly enjoyed seeing her growth -- this time around, she actually begins to experience emotions that she hasn't quite encountered before -- and it's just easy to root for her. Her decisions are, more often than not, painful in their mercenariness, and although she makes some choices towards the conclusion that were a bit hard for me to understand (or agree with), she is never not interesting, never the kind of character you wish was off the page. In fact, once again I must applaud Parker-Chan's fearlessness in making Zhu greedy, ruthless, and yet still somehow tender with those she loves. Zhu and Ouyang are posited as mirror images and, while this is undeniably true, He Who Drowned the World makes it more apparent than ever that Ouyang is an example of the path that Zhu could one day find herself on. Ma Xiuying, one of my other favorites, has an extremely complicated arc this time around, and one that I'm still not sure how to feel about.
One of the few flaws in She Who Became the Sun (if you can call it a flaw; it really is just my opinion) is how it underutilizes Ma during much of the book. She gleams constantly with potential, and while Ouyang, Baoxiang, and Zhu are, in many ways, twisted versions of one another, she stands out as being singular. In comparison to all of our main players, she retains a compassion and gentleness that serves to make her simultaneously stronger and more vulnerable to the game. Yet she has a very tiny bit part in this novel, up until the last act, and I can't help but feeling slightly -- I'm not even sure what the correct word would be. Put off, maybe. Maybe one day I'll be able to fully put into words how I feel about Ma's arc, but today isn't that day. All I can say for now is that it was not what I expected nor hoped to see for such an interesting character.
Parker-Chan's writing is gorgeous. This has stayed consistent throughout their books, and most likely will always be a feature of whatever they choose to write. The way they use language is with true craftmanship, and honestly, I'm quite envious of the absolutely stunning sentences they come up with. Just beautiful, and makes the reading fun and flow so well, regardless of the difficult topics being addressed.
And with the mention of difficult topics, there is something else I'd like to touch on. He Who Drowned the World very heavily features rape, sexual assault, and misogyny. Now, these elements are, of course, present within the first book as well, but here they've certainly been dialed up a few notches. We actually get a few on-page rape scenes, and while I don't have any qualms with reading or writing about dark, hard things (and I understand why some authors choose to include such scenes), at some point these things started to feel almost... gratuitous. I hate saying that, as I know that is not Parker-Chan's intention whatsoever, but there were some I particularly took issue with. This time around, it feels almost as if every single female character is being "brought down" or "degraded" by a depiction of rape or sexual assault. Again, I really can't get into it in detail without spoiling many of the big plot points, but it's something I felt remiss not to mention at all, especially since it was something weighing heavily on my mind as I read. The scenes themselves are not extremely graphic, and obviously they're not written to be titillating, but some of them verged on the border of being just too much. Despite Parker-Chan saying that they don't write "grimdark fantasy," this sometimes felt like just that. For me, it's simply an issue of wondering why we have to see all of them on-page. I think some of them could have taken course in the beginning or aftermath without taking anything away from what's going on.
In conclusion, I liked but did not love this book. This ended up being a slightly disappointing end to the duology for me, and while it contained many things I did love, in the end the issues I grappled with throughout my reading kept me from adoring it as a whole. With that being said, I do want to say I love Parker-Chan's writing and characters, and I really can't wait to see what else they come up with. I'll definitely be reading whatever they write next.
Under the Tamarind Tree by Nigar Alam
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
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? Yes
3.5
Thank you to NetGalley and Putnam for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: violence, death, misogyny, sexual assault, colonization.
In 2019, Rozeena is haunted by memories of her past. Out of her three childhood friends -- Haaris, Aalya, and Zohair -- she is the only one who still lives in Karachi, the place her parents fled during the Partition of India in 1947. Although she's done her best to put the events of 1964 behind her, she still fears her only son discovering the truth of his background, and so it suits her just fine to stay away from everyone in her old life. But when Haaris calls her all the way from America, pleading for her to take his granddaughter under her wing, Rozeena is thrown back into the midst of a time she doesn't want to remember -- and its consequences that are still echoing to the present day.
Before Under the Tamarind Tree, I had only the vaguest understanding of India's Partition in 1947. It was a catastrophic event, engineered by British colonizers who were both too ignorant and too cruel to care for the millions of people under their watch, culminating in violence, confusion and, ultimately, the loss of between 200,000 to two million lives, and the displacement of nearly twenty million. Alam does a great job of weaving the events of 1947, 1964, and 2019 together, and although the primary focus of the novel is on Rozeena and her friends, the backdrop of the Partition and its trauma is ever-present, the catalyst that leads to many future tragedies -- some of which Rozeena, Haaris, Zohair and Aalya will never recover from.
The setting of Karachi is beautifully rendered, and despite the fact that I've never even set foot out of Texas, Alam's descriptions of it are so real that I could almost imagine myself there. She takes time and consideration to perfect the background, and Karachi itself almost becomes a character, a sort of living, breathing being that is utilized by the story and characters. Even if you have very little prior understanding of Pakistan, its culture, religions, or its history, Alam does an excellent job of providing us with just enough information that it doesn't feel as if you're being spoon-fed exposition.
Our main character is Rozeena; the book is entirely from her perspective, the other characters creating a sort of web around her, with her squarely in the middle of it all. In spite of Rozeena's narration and the many problems that she faces, however, she remains distant, and it was sometimes difficult to connect with her. It might be in part due to the rather simplistic writing style, particularly in the modern day, which is told through present-tense -- never a great vehicle for conveying emotion, if you ask me. I particularly liked the relationship between Aalya and Rozeena, and their efforts at reconnecting as they grow from children into young adults, and I would've actually liked to see more of it.
Under the Tamarind Tree is an exploration of regret. Rozeena is constantly plagued by guilt from her past, unable to let go of the mistakes she made that changed the directions of their lives forever. The brightest spot of the book is the blossoming relationship between Rozeena and Haaris's granddaughter, who offers her a way out of self-loathing and depression. She sees in this girl a chance at making things right, of healing the wounds that she and Aalya experienced as young women, and it is this beautiful bond that centers the story and, in the end, makes it feel complete.
Vita and the Birds by Polly Crosby
A historical novel with family secrets and a lesbian romance? As soon as I read the premise for Vita and the Birds, I knew I had to request the ARC. I ended up reading it early, in order to get ahead on my ARCs, and as I've been having quite a stressful time in my life, I'm actually glad it was this one I chose. It's calming, somehow, in spite of the hardships that Vita and Eve are both facing, and it was easy for me to understand the ways that their calming seaside town brought peace to them in the midst of their problems. Crosby does a fantastic job of making small-town English life leap from the page, particularly when it comes to the unique building -- The Cathedral of Marshes -- that acts as the cornerstone of this book.
Now, although it's listed as a mystery, that's not actually how I would classify Vita and the Birds. There are mystery elements, but most of them were easy for me to unravel without much help from the narrative itself, and unfortunately, some of them actually fell quite flat for me -- I'd like to go into more detail about it, but I also don't want to spoil any plot points for those who are wanting to pick this one up themselves. As a whole, the novel is more introspective, more literary and character-driven than it is a mystery. For me, that's actually not a negative, as I prefer books who focus more on characters than they do on a fast-moving plot, but some people might find it a bit disappointing. I enjoyed Crosby's simplistic, pretty writing; it fit the novel perfectly.
The characters are relatable on the surface, but I actually struggled to connect with them. I liked Vita best of them all, but Eve, Dodie, and many of the other characters remained mystifying to me, sometimes doing things that seemed out of character or somehow just not quite right. Again, I'd like to extrapolate on this more, but I don't want to spoil anything, especially as one of the problems I had with Dodie's character comes towards the end and acts as a major turning point in the plot. Now, I'm afraid I have to go on a little rant.
There's a big problem I've found continuously in lesbian romances in media. Why is there never any buildup in these romances? For straight couples, you get pages and pages and chapter and chapters of barely touching, of hesitant conversations, of unspoken feelings. You would think that in a historical novel, you would get a lot of that in a lesbian couple, but with Vita and Dodie (and many others I've read), it seems as if one moment they're meeting and talking, and the next they've suddenly fallen in love. Is it so much to ask for a slowburn? This isn't a problem unique to Crosby, but it's one that plagues fiction focusing on lesbian/wlw relationships and for me, it's a huge pet peeve.
With all of that being said, I do want to commend Crosby on the beautiful way she paints this story, and I do think I would pick up another book by her. Overall, although I didn't love it quite as much as I wanted to, I definitely would recommend this to people wanting to read a bit of a slow-burn family mystery set in a small English town!
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Thank you to NetGalley and HQ for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: violence, death, homophobia, misogyny, institutionalization.
In 1938, Vita Goldsborough seems to have it all. She's wealthy, a lady of leisure, but in their big house on the East Anglian coast, Vita's brother, Aubrey, does his best to keep her completely isolated from the outside world. But during one of her walks on the beach, Vita stumbles across an artist, sketching the seascape -- and not just any artist, but a female one. Fascinated, Vita does her best to befriend the woman -- Dodie Blakeney -- and as they grow closer, she begins to see a future for herself out from under Aubrey's thumb. In 1997, Eve Blakeney returns to the Suffolk town where she spent her summers growing up, hoping to get some closure after her mother's sudden death. But when Eve stumbles across letters written by Vita to her grandmother, she discovers a family secret that has been festering for decades -- and one that might change the course of Eve's own life.
A historical novel with family secrets and a lesbian romance? As soon as I read the premise for Vita and the Birds, I knew I had to request the ARC. I ended up reading it early, in order to get ahead on my ARCs, and as I've been having quite a stressful time in my life, I'm actually glad it was this one I chose. It's calming, somehow, in spite of the hardships that Vita and Eve are both facing, and it was easy for me to understand the ways that their calming seaside town brought peace to them in the midst of their problems. Crosby does a fantastic job of making small-town English life leap from the page, particularly when it comes to the unique building -- The Cathedral of Marshes -- that acts as the cornerstone of this book.
Now, although it's listed as a mystery, that's not actually how I would classify Vita and the Birds. There are mystery elements, but most of them were easy for me to unravel without much help from the narrative itself, and unfortunately, some of them actually fell quite flat for me -- I'd like to go into more detail about it, but I also don't want to spoil any plot points for those who are wanting to pick this one up themselves. As a whole, the novel is more introspective, more literary and character-driven than it is a mystery. For me, that's actually not a negative, as I prefer books who focus more on characters than they do on a fast-moving plot, but some people might find it a bit disappointing. I enjoyed Crosby's simplistic, pretty writing; it fit the novel perfectly.
The characters are relatable on the surface, but I actually struggled to connect with them. I liked Vita best of them all, but Eve, Dodie, and many of the other characters remained mystifying to me, sometimes doing things that seemed out of character or somehow just not quite right. Again, I'd like to extrapolate on this more, but I don't want to spoil anything, especially as one of the problems I had with Dodie's character comes towards the end and acts as a major turning point in the plot. Now, I'm afraid I have to go on a little rant.
There's a big problem I've found continuously in lesbian romances in media. Why is there never any buildup in these romances? For straight couples, you get pages and pages and chapter and chapters of barely touching, of hesitant conversations, of unspoken feelings. You would think that in a historical novel, you would get a lot of that in a lesbian couple, but with Vita and Dodie (and many others I've read), it seems as if one moment they're meeting and talking, and the next they've suddenly fallen in love. Is it so much to ask for a slowburn? This isn't a problem unique to Crosby, but it's one that plagues fiction focusing on lesbian/wlw relationships and for me, it's a huge pet peeve.
With all of that being said, I do want to commend Crosby on the beautiful way she paints this story, and I do think I would pick up another book by her. Overall, although I didn't love it quite as much as I wanted to, I definitely would recommend this to people wanting to read a bit of a slow-burn family mystery set in a small English town!