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ninegladiolus's reviews
1011 reviews
Here We Go Again by Alison Cochrun
emotional
funny
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? Yes
4.75
Alison Cochrun is one of those authors who I’m so glad I gave another chance after a less than stellar experience with a first novel, because with each book of hers I read, it just gets better and better. Here We Go Again shines in every aspect: main characters you want to root for, a believable and compelling queer childhood friends-to-enemies-to-lovers romance, and an extremely heartfelt and poignant storyline that balances a developing relationship with realistic real life concerns.
Main characters Logan and Rosemary were inseparable in their childhood until the events of a single night drove them apart. Now, they’re both teachers in the same small town, both struggling with the direction their life has taken. They crash back into each other’s lives—literally, in a restaurant parking lot. Soon after, they find out that their former English teacher and lifelong mentor is dying and has a last wish: for the two of them to take him on a road trip together.
I loved Rosemary and Logan individually and together. There’s something so satisfying about two characters being on very different pages and finding their way to the same one. I’m very picky about the way miscommunication is used as a source of conflict, but the conversations and dynamic between the two of them felt so realistic, the friction believable given their circumstances. You can see why each of them acts the way they act and the life experiences that have brought them to that point. Forced proximity via road trip works incredibly well in this context.
My literal only character critique was Logan’s propensity for ‘[Famous Person First Name] Fucking [Famous Person Last Name]’ swearing every other paragraph in the novel. It would have been cute as a bit a few times, but it got distracting quickly.
Otherwise, in addition to being unapologetically queer, there’s multiple affirming sources of ADHD rep in this novel as well. There’s a diverse cast of side characters and fulfilling subplots as well, which is something all my favourite romance books and authors tend to utilize.
Speaking of things my favourite romance novels do, Here We Go Again expertly balances the scales between beauty, tragedy, and the way life can’t have one without the other. One of the reasons I bounce off of a lot of contemporary romance novels is that it feels too unrealistic. Conventions of the genre often mean the focus is narrowed on the leads, with little to no outside conflict or trauma impacting their arc. While that’s a valid form of escapism, for it to truly be romantic to me, characters have to choose to love one another in the worst of times as well as the best of times. Here We Go Again achieves this balance with aplomb. I cried, I laughed, I clutched at my chest, and I gave a wistful yet contented sigh by the end.
I’ll be in line for whatever Alison Cochrun writes next. She’s become one of my favourite romance authors and I wholeheartedly recommend Here We Go Again along with the rest of her body of work.
Thank you to Atria Books and NetGalley for an advance reader copy. All opinions are my own.
Main characters Logan and Rosemary were inseparable in their childhood until the events of a single night drove them apart. Now, they’re both teachers in the same small town, both struggling with the direction their life has taken. They crash back into each other’s lives—literally, in a restaurant parking lot. Soon after, they find out that their former English teacher and lifelong mentor is dying and has a last wish: for the two of them to take him on a road trip together.
I loved Rosemary and Logan individually and together. There’s something so satisfying about two characters being on very different pages and finding their way to the same one. I’m very picky about the way miscommunication is used as a source of conflict, but the conversations and dynamic between the two of them felt so realistic, the friction believable given their circumstances. You can see why each of them acts the way they act and the life experiences that have brought them to that point. Forced proximity via road trip works incredibly well in this context.
My literal only character critique was Logan’s propensity for ‘[Famous Person First Name] Fucking [Famous Person Last Name]’ swearing every other paragraph in the novel. It would have been cute as a bit a few times, but it got distracting quickly.
Otherwise, in addition to being unapologetically queer, there’s multiple affirming sources of ADHD rep in this novel as well. There’s a diverse cast of side characters and fulfilling subplots as well, which is something all my favourite romance books and authors tend to utilize.
Speaking of things my favourite romance novels do, Here We Go Again expertly balances the scales between beauty, tragedy, and the way life can’t have one without the other. One of the reasons I bounce off of a lot of contemporary romance novels is that it feels too unrealistic. Conventions of the genre often mean the focus is narrowed on the leads, with little to no outside conflict or trauma impacting their arc. While that’s a valid form of escapism, for it to truly be romantic to me, characters have to choose to love one another in the worst of times as well as the best of times. Here We Go Again achieves this balance with aplomb. I cried, I laughed, I clutched at my chest, and I gave a wistful yet contented sigh by the end.
I’ll be in line for whatever Alison Cochrun writes next. She’s become one of my favourite romance authors and I wholeheartedly recommend Here We Go Again along with the rest of her body of work.
Thank you to Atria Books and NetGalley for an advance reader copy. All opinions are my own.
Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell
adventurous
dark
emotional
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
4.25
My foremost concern going into Someone You Can Build a Nest In was that it wouldn’t be weird ENOUGH. Not only was this novel wonderfully bizarre and full of the body horror shapeshifting of my dreams, it was also gut-churningly emotional, leaving me choked up at several points throughout.
Shesheshen, the monster protagonist of our story, is brought out of her hibernation at the beginning of the novel by hunters determined to murder her. She flees her lair, badly injured, and wakes to find herself cared for by Homily, an extremely thoughtful and caring human. Unfortunately for Shesheshen, even though Homily would make a great nest, there’s another problem: Homily’s hunting for a monster that sounds a lot like Shesheshen.
There’s so much I adored about this novel that it’s hard to know where to start. First and foremost, Shesheshen was a fantastic protagonist. Sometimes in monster fiction, the monster loses its inhumanness. Not the case in this novel. Throughout the entire story, Shesheshen keeps many of the traits, thoughts, and beliefs that mark her as ‘other’. While a great deal of this resonates personally with me, like her complete bewilderment with confusing human behavioral norms and the fluidity of her body and her asexuality, I stand by the fact she’s a compelling character even without personal relatability.
Homily’s character and arc were devastating at points. There’s a deeply poignant discussion of trauma, the ways it shapes us, and the ways we can learn to overcome it that I wasn’t expecting from my funny, gross monster romance book, yet here it is. I also loved seeing Homily’s fatness through Shesheshen’s eyes. The narrative takes great pains to not only remark on Homily’s size but to paint it in a positive, admirable light; this kind of fat positivity is still exceedingly rare and I appreciate it when I encounter it.
I struggled with the pacing of this novel, to the point where I felt the mental drag as plot elements were prolonged. There are several repeated try-fail cycles that hit similar beats and don’t really move story or character along. I think if it had been just a tiny bit shorter, it would have been perfect.
As it stands, this book just marches to the beat of its own drum. It’s warm, loving, weird, delightful, and emotional. It also elaborates on a theme I can’t get enough of, which is interrogating what ‘monstrous’ and ‘human’ even mean, and the ways in which humans are monstrous and monsters are human.
Someone You Can Build a Nest In won’t be a book for everyone, but I believe it’s a book that will deeply speak to the audience it’s meant for. If a charming sapphic fantasy romance blended with creepy horror elements and deeply emotional character arcs sounds up your alley, give this one a shot.
Thank you to DAW and NetGalley for an advance reader copy. All opinions are my own.
Shesheshen, the monster protagonist of our story, is brought out of her hibernation at the beginning of the novel by hunters determined to murder her. She flees her lair, badly injured, and wakes to find herself cared for by Homily, an extremely thoughtful and caring human. Unfortunately for Shesheshen, even though Homily would make a great nest, there’s another problem: Homily’s hunting for a monster that sounds a lot like Shesheshen.
There’s so much I adored about this novel that it’s hard to know where to start. First and foremost, Shesheshen was a fantastic protagonist. Sometimes in monster fiction, the monster loses its inhumanness. Not the case in this novel. Throughout the entire story, Shesheshen keeps many of the traits, thoughts, and beliefs that mark her as ‘other’. While a great deal of this resonates personally with me, like her complete bewilderment with confusing human behavioral norms and the fluidity of her body and her asexuality, I stand by the fact she’s a compelling character even without personal relatability.
Homily’s character and arc were devastating at points. There’s a deeply poignant discussion of trauma, the ways it shapes us, and the ways we can learn to overcome it that I wasn’t expecting from my funny, gross monster romance book, yet here it is. I also loved seeing Homily’s fatness through Shesheshen’s eyes. The narrative takes great pains to not only remark on Homily’s size but to paint it in a positive, admirable light; this kind of fat positivity is still exceedingly rare and I appreciate it when I encounter it.
I struggled with the pacing of this novel, to the point where I felt the mental drag as plot elements were prolonged. There are several repeated try-fail cycles that hit similar beats and don’t really move story or character along. I think if it had been just a tiny bit shorter, it would have been perfect.
As it stands, this book just marches to the beat of its own drum. It’s warm, loving, weird, delightful, and emotional. It also elaborates on a theme I can’t get enough of, which is interrogating what ‘monstrous’ and ‘human’ even mean, and the ways in which humans are monstrous and monsters are human.
Someone You Can Build a Nest In won’t be a book for everyone, but I believe it’s a book that will deeply speak to the audience it’s meant for. If a charming sapphic fantasy romance blended with creepy horror elements and deeply emotional character arcs sounds up your alley, give this one a shot.
Thank you to DAW and NetGalley for an advance reader copy. All opinions are my own.
Floating Hotel by Grace Curtis
emotional
mysterious
reflective
slow-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
4.0
While Grace Curtis’ Floating Hotel didn’t necessarily deliver on the cozy, low-stakes story it promised, I still really enjoyed it for what it did offer: a beautifully interwoven character study with an interesting mystery and an equal mix of bitter and sweet vibes.
Floating Hotel follows a large range of characters, most usually only getting one PoV chapter, through a series of events aboard the luxury space hotel they all live and work aboard. The structure was one of my favourite things about this novel. Rarely have I seen so many different points of view used to such great effect to tell a greater story. It’s fascinating to see characters through each other's eyes and captures the found-work-family vibes admirably. Sometimes you love the people you spend most of your life with, and sometimes you can’t stand them, and sometimes tragedy strikes and you band together to deal with it in the best way you know how.
If you’re looking for a straightforward, happy ending, Floating Hotel probably isn’t the novel for you. But I will say by the last page I felt a sense of emotional catharsis. It made sense given the events of the novel and felt earned.
Grace Curtis has earned a spot in my sci-fi rotation and I eagerly await whatever comes next. If you think you’d like a character-driven sci-fi set in a hospitality environment with a backbone of mystery and unusual narrative structure, I recommend giving Floating Hotel a try.
Thank you to DAW and NetGalley for an advance reader copy. All opinions are my own.
Floating Hotel follows a large range of characters, most usually only getting one PoV chapter, through a series of events aboard the luxury space hotel they all live and work aboard. The structure was one of my favourite things about this novel. Rarely have I seen so many different points of view used to such great effect to tell a greater story. It’s fascinating to see characters through each other's eyes and captures the found-work-family vibes admirably. Sometimes you love the people you spend most of your life with, and sometimes you can’t stand them, and sometimes tragedy strikes and you band together to deal with it in the best way you know how.
If you’re looking for a straightforward, happy ending, Floating Hotel probably isn’t the novel for you. But I will say by the last page I felt a sense of emotional catharsis. It made sense given the events of the novel and felt earned.
Grace Curtis has earned a spot in my sci-fi rotation and I eagerly await whatever comes next. If you think you’d like a character-driven sci-fi set in a hospitality environment with a backbone of mystery and unusual narrative structure, I recommend giving Floating Hotel a try.
Thank you to DAW and NetGalley for an advance reader copy. All opinions are my own.
The Mars House by Natasha Pulley
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
0.25
Oof.
While tempting to leave this one star review at a single word, I feel compelled to expand it. The Mars House was my first Natasha Pulley novel and it will be my last. I picked this up because I was promised an emotional relationship with captivating political intrigue, and while this novel did indeed make a (clumsy, literal-wince-inducing) series of political statements, it came out swinging with a variety of with transphobic, xenophobic, racist, sinophobic, and anti-immigration rhetoric in its very thinly veiled allegory for very relevant political topics today.
To understand the critique that will follow, here’s as bare bones a summary as I can give. Protagonist January, once a principal star of the ballet back in London, is forced in a rapid-fire series of glossed over events to flee an Earth ravaged by climate change for the stable and ‘civilized’ colony on Mars. The only problem is that, due to growing up in Earth’s stronger gravity, January (and any other person born and raised on Earth, henceforth referred to as Earthstrong in the novel’s parlance) is super strong. Like. Smashing Martians to smithereens with a careless thought. Earthstrong are essentially outcasts in society, forbidden citizenship or rights in all but the most select cases. They also have to wear cages by law that restrict their movement to prevent injury to Martians.
Literal cages. You read right. The metaphors are about as subtle as a hand grenade.
Enter Aubrey Gale, noted politician of Mars’ ‘genderless’ (more on this later) society, who—after once chance encounter with January in the dangerous factory he and other Earthstrong are forced to work in—decides they need to marry him for political clout to show they can live in harmony with the big bad Earthstrong after all. This is part of a larger (facist) agenda to force ALL Earthstrong to go through a horribly invasive medical procedure to be ‘safe’ on Mars, a procedure which at best disables those who undergo it and at worse kills them. Somehow, this oppressor-oppressed relationship is supposed to be perceived as romantic and takes off along those lines.
Other reviewers have covered the xenophobic and racist elements more articulately and robustly than I am able to, so please go through and see other reviews for a more in-depth look at these topics.
For my review, I want to focus on the baffling gender choices made in this novel. In 2024, it’s certainly a take to flip the script on a current real world political crisis and make one’s fictional nonbinary/agender society a bunch of fascist oppressors. With things like having the Earthstrong protagonist protest their right to be called ‘he’ or ‘she’, Earthstrong being referred to as gender extremists, and repeated commentary about how ‘gendered traits’ were ‘edited out’ of Martian DNA, this reads like stunningly bad satire attacking the current trans rights movement. Who knows, maybe it is!
What I do know is that these choices display stunning insensitivity and ignorance. There’s absolutely the possibility to have interesting conversations about gender through speculative fiction, and then there’s… whatever The Mars House is doing. There wasn’t a talking mammoth to tell the protagonists that transphobia and gender essentialism is bad, but hey, at least there was one to sort of do that for racism!
Speaking of gender, there are also no women of note in this novel. Apparently this is a theme in Pulley’s novels so perhaps readers of her other work would not be as annoyed or surprised as I was, but I’m extra appalled with the double whammy of misogyny on top of the weird demonizing-gender-abolition takes.
On top of the piping hot train wreck that was any and every political statement this novel tried to make, the central protagonists did not appeal to me in any way, shape, or form. January is a complete wet blanket who capitulates to any and every demand of Gale, which again, COULD say something interesting about people experiencing oppression and how it is often systemically impossible to have any real agency in such situations, but is instead framed as a ‘from opposite sides’ political romance worth aspiring to. January also spends the entire novel fat shaming some barely-there side character who is mentioned once, which was the cherry on top of all this hot mess.
As for Gale… I am all for rooting for villains. I love morally complicated or bankrupt fictional characters as it gives us an avenue to explore challenging parts of the human experience. Unfortunately, Gale had little to no redeeming qualities; it takes more than a talking mammoth to make a redemption arc for a flagrant eugenicist. A flagrant anti-immigration, xenophobic eugenicist who we are apparently supposed to root for and romanticize? All because they almost died one time thanks to an uncaged Earthstrong so now they want to shove all of them in cages forever? No thank you. Miss me with that garbage.
To say it flatly: I don’t think The Mars House is a story the author was ready and/or qualified to tell. But again, maybe this is exactly the story Pulley wanted to tell. Who’s to say for sure? Certainly not me.
What I can say is that if you’re going to engage with the themes this novel addresses, they should be used as more than a prop for an ill-considered ‘star-crossed’ romance from across the political divide, especially if you’re drawing heavily upon themes and subject that heavily impact multiple communities your readers may be a part of. If you’re looking for politically engaging, complex, queer science fiction, you can do much, much better than The Mars House.
Thank you to NetGalley and Bloomsbury USA for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
While tempting to leave this one star review at a single word, I feel compelled to expand it. The Mars House was my first Natasha Pulley novel and it will be my last. I picked this up because I was promised an emotional relationship with captivating political intrigue, and while this novel did indeed make a (clumsy, literal-wince-inducing) series of political statements, it came out swinging with a variety of with transphobic, xenophobic, racist, sinophobic, and anti-immigration rhetoric in its very thinly veiled allegory for very relevant political topics today.
To understand the critique that will follow, here’s as bare bones a summary as I can give. Protagonist January, once a principal star of the ballet back in London, is forced in a rapid-fire series of glossed over events to flee an Earth ravaged by climate change for the stable and ‘civilized’ colony on Mars. The only problem is that, due to growing up in Earth’s stronger gravity, January (and any other person born and raised on Earth, henceforth referred to as Earthstrong in the novel’s parlance) is super strong. Like. Smashing Martians to smithereens with a careless thought. Earthstrong are essentially outcasts in society, forbidden citizenship or rights in all but the most select cases. They also have to wear cages by law that restrict their movement to prevent injury to Martians.
Literal cages. You read right. The metaphors are about as subtle as a hand grenade.
Enter Aubrey Gale, noted politician of Mars’ ‘genderless’ (more on this later) society, who—after once chance encounter with January in the dangerous factory he and other Earthstrong are forced to work in—decides they need to marry him for political clout to show they can live in harmony with the big bad Earthstrong after all. This is part of a larger (facist) agenda to force ALL Earthstrong to go through a horribly invasive medical procedure to be ‘safe’ on Mars, a procedure which at best disables those who undergo it and at worse kills them. Somehow, this oppressor-oppressed relationship is supposed to be perceived as romantic and takes off along those lines.
Other reviewers have covered the xenophobic and racist elements more articulately and robustly than I am able to, so please go through and see other reviews for a more in-depth look at these topics.
For my review, I want to focus on the baffling gender choices made in this novel. In 2024, it’s certainly a take to flip the script on a current real world political crisis and make one’s fictional nonbinary/agender society a bunch of fascist oppressors. With things like having the Earthstrong protagonist protest their right to be called ‘he’ or ‘she’, Earthstrong being referred to as gender extremists, and repeated commentary about how ‘gendered traits’ were ‘edited out’ of Martian DNA, this reads like stunningly bad satire attacking the current trans rights movement. Who knows, maybe it is!
What I do know is that these choices display stunning insensitivity and ignorance. There’s absolutely the possibility to have interesting conversations about gender through speculative fiction, and then there’s… whatever The Mars House is doing. There wasn’t a talking mammoth to tell the protagonists that transphobia and gender essentialism is bad, but hey, at least there was one to sort of do that for racism!
Speaking of gender, there are also no women of note in this novel. Apparently this is a theme in Pulley’s novels so perhaps readers of her other work would not be as annoyed or surprised as I was, but I’m extra appalled with the double whammy of misogyny on top of the weird demonizing-gender-abolition takes.
On top of the piping hot train wreck that was any and every political statement this novel tried to make, the central protagonists did not appeal to me in any way, shape, or form. January is a complete wet blanket who capitulates to any and every demand of Gale, which again, COULD say something interesting about people experiencing oppression and how it is often systemically impossible to have any real agency in such situations, but is instead framed as a ‘from opposite sides’ political romance worth aspiring to. January also spends the entire novel fat shaming some barely-there side character who is mentioned once, which was the cherry on top of all this hot mess.
As for Gale… I am all for rooting for villains. I love morally complicated or bankrupt fictional characters as it gives us an avenue to explore challenging parts of the human experience. Unfortunately, Gale had little to no redeeming qualities; it takes more than a talking mammoth to make a redemption arc for a flagrant eugenicist. A flagrant anti-immigration, xenophobic eugenicist who we are apparently supposed to root for and romanticize? All because they almost died one time thanks to an uncaged Earthstrong so now they want to shove all of them in cages forever? No thank you. Miss me with that garbage.
To say it flatly: I don’t think The Mars House is a story the author was ready and/or qualified to tell. But again, maybe this is exactly the story Pulley wanted to tell. Who’s to say for sure? Certainly not me.
What I can say is that if you’re going to engage with the themes this novel addresses, they should be used as more than a prop for an ill-considered ‘star-crossed’ romance from across the political divide, especially if you’re drawing heavily upon themes and subject that heavily impact multiple communities your readers may be a part of. If you’re looking for politically engaging, complex, queer science fiction, you can do much, much better than The Mars House.
Thank you to NetGalley and Bloomsbury USA for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
Cascade Failure by L.M. Sagas
adventurous
emotional
funny
fast-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
5.0
Every now and then, a novel comes around that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let you go. Cascade Failure was one such novel. Not since These Burning Stars by Bethany Jacobs did a sci-fi book sit me down and shut me up for the requisite number of hours to read it. With found family vibes to end all found family vibes, a sweeping adventure with stakes both fresh and familiar, and emotional moments that left me breathless, LM Sagas' debut left me both fulfilled and wanting more.
There are a lot of books compared to Becky Chambers these days, but for once, I think the comp is justified in Cascade Failure. This novel excels at showing the tiny, ‘mundane’ moments of human connection that make the wider universal stakes and worldbuilding matter, which is what I associate most heavily with Becky Chambers. I’d also say I get a lot more Firefly than Expanse from this, which—even though I love The Expanse!—is a compliment. A scrappy crew of misfits on an equally scrappy ship facing impossible odds is what I loved most about Firefly.
The characters, the characters, the CHARACTERS. I would die for each and every member of the Ambit’s crew. I love them all in different ways, and by the end of the first novel, they felt so real to me. Not only are they autonomous in and of themselves, but all of them make decisions in line with the personality and motivations they espouse, even when those decisions are ‘bad’ (to vastly oversimplify).
When I say Cascade Failure is impeccably paced, it’s still an understatement. I devoured this novel in a day and didn’t move from my couch or bed for most of it, part of which was aided by the excellent pacing. There’s never a moment that doesn’t serve the story in some way, whether it’s an emotionally intimate character moment or a heart-pounding action sequence.
I want to talk a bit about the queer representation in this since I haven’t seen many folks go over it. One crewmember, the AI who helms the Ambit, is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. My only very minor quibble about this book is that I can’t recall any other human characters being nonbinary (or even stated to be trans in other ways), and it’s a personal pet peeve when the ONLY nonbinary representation is also non-human. Though the word isn’t used on page, I interpreted Nash to be lesbian given the hints of flirting and attraction she displays with another woman and her repeated sentiments that men are not for her.
What I really enjoyed but can’t definitively speak to is the potential for aspec representation here. I’ve read Gravity Lost as well—review forthcoming soon, but also another five-star favourite—and even by the end of that, I’m not sure how to interpret a particular relationship. One of my favourite things lately is deep and meaningful platonic bonds being given the same attention as romantic ones, both in and of themselves and how it resonates with aspec identities I hold. One such relationship in Cascade Failure is INTENSELY emotional and intimate, laden with history, but there’s nothing overtly marking it as romantic or sexual. So while it’s queer in my mind either way, it’s not easily labeled, which is a-okay (and good, actually). Maybe it will be a long-game slow burn, maybe it will be the aspec relationship of my dreams, but either way, I look forward to seeing it develop.
All that said: Fans of sci-fi, especially folks who enjoy the deeply character-driven works of Becky Chambers and/or the scrappy and adventurous found family vibes of Firefly, please give Cascade Failure a chance. Don’t miss this little gem of a debut!
Thank you to Tor Books and NetGalley for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
There are a lot of books compared to Becky Chambers these days, but for once, I think the comp is justified in Cascade Failure. This novel excels at showing the tiny, ‘mundane’ moments of human connection that make the wider universal stakes and worldbuilding matter, which is what I associate most heavily with Becky Chambers. I’d also say I get a lot more Firefly than Expanse from this, which—even though I love The Expanse!—is a compliment. A scrappy crew of misfits on an equally scrappy ship facing impossible odds is what I loved most about Firefly.
The characters, the characters, the CHARACTERS. I would die for each and every member of the Ambit’s crew. I love them all in different ways, and by the end of the first novel, they felt so real to me. Not only are they autonomous in and of themselves, but all of them make decisions in line with the personality and motivations they espouse, even when those decisions are ‘bad’ (to vastly oversimplify).
When I say Cascade Failure is impeccably paced, it’s still an understatement. I devoured this novel in a day and didn’t move from my couch or bed for most of it, part of which was aided by the excellent pacing. There’s never a moment that doesn’t serve the story in some way, whether it’s an emotionally intimate character moment or a heart-pounding action sequence.
I want to talk a bit about the queer representation in this since I haven’t seen many folks go over it. One crewmember, the AI who helms the Ambit, is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. My only very minor quibble about this book is that I can’t recall any other human characters being nonbinary (or even stated to be trans in other ways), and it’s a personal pet peeve when the ONLY nonbinary representation is also non-human. Though the word isn’t used on page, I interpreted Nash to be lesbian given the hints of flirting and attraction she displays with another woman and her repeated sentiments that men are not for her.
What I really enjoyed but can’t definitively speak to is the potential for aspec representation here. I’ve read Gravity Lost as well—review forthcoming soon, but also another five-star favourite—and even by the end of that, I’m not sure how to interpret a particular relationship. One of my favourite things lately is deep and meaningful platonic bonds being given the same attention as romantic ones, both in and of themselves and how it resonates with aspec identities I hold. One such relationship in Cascade Failure is INTENSELY emotional and intimate, laden with history, but there’s nothing overtly marking it as romantic or sexual. So while it’s queer in my mind either way, it’s not easily labeled, which is a-okay (and good, actually). Maybe it will be a long-game slow burn, maybe it will be the aspec relationship of my dreams, but either way, I look forward to seeing it develop.
All that said: Fans of sci-fi, especially folks who enjoy the deeply character-driven works of Becky Chambers and/or the scrappy and adventurous found family vibes of Firefly, please give Cascade Failure a chance. Don’t miss this little gem of a debut!
Thank you to Tor Books and NetGalley for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
Sunbringer by Hannah Kaner
adventurous
emotional
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
3.75
While Sunbringer didn’t have quite the cohesive punch of Fallen Gods’ first installment, Godkiller, it shakes off its second book slump by the end and promises a thrilling next entry in the series. With further character development, an expanding world, and deepening stakes, Sunbringer is definitely worth picking up.
Characters continue to shine in this series. The found family vibes readers came to enjoy in Godkiller continues in Sunbringer. This time around, Kissen (my beloved) has less time center stage. Instead, we come to see Elo and Inara growing in complexity, their arcs intensifying and adding to their autonomy. Since characters are where Godkiller shined, having the main cast forcibly separated in Sunbringer detracted from it.
The worldbuilding continues to delight. We get more and more insight into the gods of this world, how they have shaped it, and the variety of consequences their presence has on both world and characters. It’s tied for my favourite thing in this series next to the character work.
This series lays the foreshadowing and groundwork for its ‘twists’ in a way that makes them satisfying for the reader. While I haven’t been surprised by any particular turn of events, they have all made sense when contextualized with the rest of the narrative, which makes for a more fulfilling experience for me personally. It’s an underrated skill to be able to guide your reader on a journey AND still have the emotional beats land when you know what plot reveal is coming.
I will continue to champion the Fallen Gods series as an inclusive, robust, and exciting entry into the fantasy world. I am excited to see what the next entry brings and am as eager to read it as I am to keep recommending this series.
Thank you to HarperVoyager and Edelweiss for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
Characters continue to shine in this series. The found family vibes readers came to enjoy in Godkiller continues in Sunbringer. This time around, Kissen (my beloved) has less time center stage. Instead, we come to see Elo and Inara growing in complexity, their arcs intensifying and adding to their autonomy. Since characters are where Godkiller shined, having the main cast forcibly separated in Sunbringer detracted from it.
The worldbuilding continues to delight. We get more and more insight into the gods of this world, how they have shaped it, and the variety of consequences their presence has on both world and characters. It’s tied for my favourite thing in this series next to the character work.
This series lays the foreshadowing and groundwork for its ‘twists’ in a way that makes them satisfying for the reader. While I haven’t been surprised by any particular turn of events, they have all made sense when contextualized with the rest of the narrative, which makes for a more fulfilling experience for me personally. It’s an underrated skill to be able to guide your reader on a journey AND still have the emotional beats land when you know what plot reveal is coming.
I will continue to champion the Fallen Gods series as an inclusive, robust, and exciting entry into the fantasy world. I am excited to see what the next entry brings and am as eager to read it as I am to keep recommending this series.
Thank you to HarperVoyager and Edelweiss for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
The Deep Dark: A Graphic Novel by Molly Knox Ostertag
dark
emotional
mysterious
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
5.0
Rainbow Black by Maggie Thrash
dark
mysterious
reflective
fast-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
4.0
Pacifique by Sarah L. Taggart
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Welcome to Forever by Nathan Tavares
challenging
emotional
fast-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
4.25
Welcome to Forever by Nathan Tavares was a thought-provoking, emotional read. With Inception-like layered complexity, the philosophical and relational questions posed by The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and a complicated queer love story worth the journey it takes you on, Welcome to Forever infuses familiar themes and arcs with fresh originality.
Fox, a memory editor who specialized in re-writing the realities of his clients, wakes up one day with perilously little recollection of who he is. At the Field of Reeds Center for Memory Reconstruction, he learns his own memory was damaged in a terrorist attack that also destroyed the memory archives of others—including his husband, Gabe.
Though it’s not an easy story to describe and nearly impossible without spoilers, Welcome to Forever got so many things right for me. I’ve been fascinated by stories that explore the permeable nature of memory and this novel spends its whole length doing exactly that. How much of who we are is intrinsic, how much is shaped by the experiences we have, and if we no longer have those experiences as a backbone, can we be someone different? Do we even want to be someone different at all?
Central characters Fox and Gabe are deeply flawed yet completely believable, which is also a huge point in this novel’s favor. In an era where character relationships are often distilled down to fanfiction tropes and suffer for the simplification, Fox and Gabe’s dynamic speaks to current-day relational struggles many folks will relate to while injecting nuance and human flaws throughout. If your experience is anything like my own, you will find yourself drawn down, down, down into the facets of their journey, staying up past bedtime following the outcome of a new reveal.
The prose in this novel was also highlight worthy and quotable. So many times I found myself pausing at an emotionally excavating line or profound yet breviloquent turn of phrase. The stylistic choices amplified the emotional beats of the story, which is something I always admire when it happens.
My only critique revolves around structure. Between the extremely unreliable narrator and switching between past and present, Welcome to Forever can be difficult to follow at times. Part of this I am sure is intentional; after all, Fox doesn’t know his own reality from the outset of the story, so to expect a clear and tidy offering would be unfair. But still, it was enough to give me pause at a few points, so it’s worth noting.
Overall, I’m still thinking about this novel on and off long after I read it. Welcome to Forever is a worthy entry into the subset of science fiction that examines personhood, memory, and the relational consequences of losing touch with either of those notions. If a dramatic, labyrinthine depiction of queer love with a backbone of philosophical considerations and thriller-like pacing sounds good to you, I’d recommend giving this one a try.
Thank you to Titan Books and NetGalley for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.
Fox, a memory editor who specialized in re-writing the realities of his clients, wakes up one day with perilously little recollection of who he is. At the Field of Reeds Center for Memory Reconstruction, he learns his own memory was damaged in a terrorist attack that also destroyed the memory archives of others—including his husband, Gabe.
Though it’s not an easy story to describe and nearly impossible without spoilers, Welcome to Forever got so many things right for me. I’ve been fascinated by stories that explore the permeable nature of memory and this novel spends its whole length doing exactly that. How much of who we are is intrinsic, how much is shaped by the experiences we have, and if we no longer have those experiences as a backbone, can we be someone different? Do we even want to be someone different at all?
Central characters Fox and Gabe are deeply flawed yet completely believable, which is also a huge point in this novel’s favor. In an era where character relationships are often distilled down to fanfiction tropes and suffer for the simplification, Fox and Gabe’s dynamic speaks to current-day relational struggles many folks will relate to while injecting nuance and human flaws throughout. If your experience is anything like my own, you will find yourself drawn down, down, down into the facets of their journey, staying up past bedtime following the outcome of a new reveal.
The prose in this novel was also highlight worthy and quotable. So many times I found myself pausing at an emotionally excavating line or profound yet breviloquent turn of phrase. The stylistic choices amplified the emotional beats of the story, which is something I always admire when it happens.
My only critique revolves around structure. Between the extremely unreliable narrator and switching between past and present, Welcome to Forever can be difficult to follow at times. Part of this I am sure is intentional; after all, Fox doesn’t know his own reality from the outset of the story, so to expect a clear and tidy offering would be unfair. But still, it was enough to give me pause at a few points, so it’s worth noting.
Overall, I’m still thinking about this novel on and off long after I read it. Welcome to Forever is a worthy entry into the subset of science fiction that examines personhood, memory, and the relational consequences of losing touch with either of those notions. If a dramatic, labyrinthine depiction of queer love with a backbone of philosophical considerations and thriller-like pacing sounds good to you, I’d recommend giving this one a try.
Thank you to Titan Books and NetGalley for an advance review copy. All opinions are my own.