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thelilbookwitch's reviews
495 reviews
Blended by Sharon M. Draper
2.0
Full review over on [my site]
I’d never read Sharon M. Draper’s work before; but given the accolades online about her work and the awards she’s won, I thought that suggesting Blended to my teen intersectionality book group was a solid choice. They seemed to think so too.
The overall pacing and plot of the book was scattered in the beginning, but I still found myself enjoying it after I hit the 100 page mark. In all honesty, the book might not have survived my Lunch Hour Rule if I had been reading it purely for pleasure.
The blurb wasn’t better or worse than the story, but missed some severe tone shifts that would have prepared me a bit better for plot points.
Isabella “Izzy” Badia Thornton is a likable protagonist, though I didn’t feel like she had a lot of depth to her. The narrative style used to tell the story did a lot of telling. I caught on, as did my teens, that it often seemed like Izzy didn’t sound like a middle schooler. More like an adult trying to sound like a middle schooler.
When I compare Blended with The Only Black Girls in Town, I have to say that the latter is the stronger contender for me in some regards when it comes to making a point. Draper spends a lot of time playing into color blindess, “both sides” bad faith arguments, and doesn’t really have characters challenging those ideas, or Isabella commenting on them through inner dialogue.
Often, Isabella is passive in these situations, never offering her own opinion, even as readers are privy to her inner thoughts. Unfortunately as her own experiences with micro-aggressions occur, she finally begins to feel more fleshed out as a character, as do her friends. Trauma shouldn’t make a character though, and that was disappointing.
There are also more than a few moments where I had to pause and ask myself “is this how an eleven year old sounds?” — tone is so important, especially in middle grade. I found Isabella’s inane use of “crazy” to describe just about everything not just ableist, but annoying. She has a teacher who gives her good vocabulary lessons (which seems like a veiled attempt at teaching kids “big words”, making this skew more and more towards juvenile than middle grade) but none of her parents or other authority figures in her life remarking on her speech.
Her skills with a piano are written incredibly well, and Draper did an excellent job subtly tying together a catalog of music and racial awareness in a way that I think will resonate with readers of all ages. That being said, I know I was not the intended audience for this book, and I don’t know if I will hand it off to many of my “too cool for the kid’s section, too intimidated by the teen section” readers because for the same reasons I’m rolling my eyes, a kid might not feel like the book is authentic when it comes to Izzy’s voice.
There were some particularly thoughtful moments towards the end of the book that not only showcased Isabella’s growth (which doesn’t mean linear or positive, mind you), but also the realness of the story and friendships. But it's a writing choice that readers will either love or hate.
I also enjoyed the side characters of the story, especially her two families. Their stories never seemed melodramatic, though there was definitely a lot of drama happening in them. A slightly missed opportunity for earlier characterization for Isabella, I think, but ultimately, positive examples of what having divorced family can look like. I can’t speak to the authenticity of those aspects of the book where she’s being handed off, but they felt real to me, and more than understandable.
I will also say, Draper does any excellent job with the craft of the book. There is a nuance to the way Blended has been written. She plays with syntax, paragraph structure, and even the book itself is split into “Mom Week” vs “Dad Week” as we progress in time with Isabella.
Overall, a slow start, and an okay read. Can be read by upper elementary readers and middle graders, but I think there are better books out there doing more with similar topics.
I’d never read Sharon M. Draper’s work before; but given the accolades online about her work and the awards she’s won, I thought that suggesting Blended to my teen intersectionality book group was a solid choice. They seemed to think so too.
The overall pacing and plot of the book was scattered in the beginning, but I still found myself enjoying it after I hit the 100 page mark. In all honesty, the book might not have survived my Lunch Hour Rule if I had been reading it purely for pleasure.
The blurb wasn’t better or worse than the story, but missed some severe tone shifts that would have prepared me a bit better for plot points.
Isabella “Izzy” Badia Thornton is a likable protagonist, though I didn’t feel like she had a lot of depth to her. The narrative style used to tell the story did a lot of telling. I caught on, as did my teens, that it often seemed like Izzy didn’t sound like a middle schooler. More like an adult trying to sound like a middle schooler.
When I compare Blended with The Only Black Girls in Town, I have to say that the latter is the stronger contender for me in some regards when it comes to making a point. Draper spends a lot of time playing into color blindess, “both sides” bad faith arguments, and doesn’t really have characters challenging those ideas, or Isabella commenting on them through inner dialogue.
Often, Isabella is passive in these situations, never offering her own opinion, even as readers are privy to her inner thoughts. Unfortunately as her own experiences with micro-aggressions occur, she finally begins to feel more fleshed out as a character, as do her friends. Trauma shouldn’t make a character though, and that was disappointing.
There are also more than a few moments where I had to pause and ask myself “is this how an eleven year old sounds?” — tone is so important, especially in middle grade. I found Isabella’s inane use of “crazy” to describe just about everything not just ableist, but annoying. She has a teacher who gives her good vocabulary lessons (which seems like a veiled attempt at teaching kids “big words”, making this skew more and more towards juvenile than middle grade) but none of her parents or other authority figures in her life remarking on her speech.
Her skills with a piano are written incredibly well, and Draper did an excellent job subtly tying together a catalog of music and racial awareness in a way that I think will resonate with readers of all ages. That being said, I know I was not the intended audience for this book, and I don’t know if I will hand it off to many of my “too cool for the kid’s section, too intimidated by the teen section” readers because for the same reasons I’m rolling my eyes, a kid might not feel like the book is authentic when it comes to Izzy’s voice.
There were some particularly thoughtful moments towards the end of the book that not only showcased Isabella’s growth (which doesn’t mean linear or positive, mind you), but also the realness of the story and friendships. But it's a writing choice that readers will either love or hate.
I also enjoyed the side characters of the story, especially her two families. Their stories never seemed melodramatic, though there was definitely a lot of drama happening in them. A slightly missed opportunity for earlier characterization for Isabella, I think, but ultimately, positive examples of what having divorced family can look like. I can’t speak to the authenticity of those aspects of the book where she’s being handed off, but they felt real to me, and more than understandable.
I will also say, Draper does any excellent job with the craft of the book. There is a nuance to the way Blended has been written. She plays with syntax, paragraph structure, and even the book itself is split into “Mom Week” vs “Dad Week” as we progress in time with Isabella.
Overall, a slow start, and an okay read. Can be read by upper elementary readers and middle graders, but I think there are better books out there doing more with similar topics.
Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade
4.0
Check out my full review [ here].
---------------
It’s a phrase I hear and use a lot as a librarian — “representation matters” — but it’s not one I ever thought I needed until I picked up this book. April Whittier is fat and Olivia Dade wants to make sure the reader knows about it.
As a small fat, not to mention a ginger like April, I cannot begin to tell you the amount of times I have experienced the fears, and the insecurities that April does — and she’s already put in so much work, like I have. But we live in a fat phobic culture, and sometimes… sometimes we just need someone else to show those insecure voices in our heads how wrong they are indeed.
From the dedication page, I knew this book was for me. I also knew that this book, due to society’s culture of hating all things fat, will not be for everyone. I even found myself battling some internalized stuff here and there as I read. I will also say that this novel is more romance than it is steamy smut, and I was disappointed in that honestly, but I understand how the escapism is still relevant and appealing.
April is a fully fleshed out character, though prone to doing a lot of emotional labor and “digging” on behalf of Marcus in the beginning since he’s only putting up a facade when they first meet. Her internal struggles with society accepting her will offer a wonderful mirror or window to any reader; because do not be mistaken — April Whittier has accepted herself in all her glory. It’s the rest of the world that needs to get with the program of learning that size =/= health.
I initially read Marcus to be as shallow as the persona he put on, even in the scenes when Dade is attempting her best to give him depth. It wasn’t until more about his backstory came to be revealed that I saw him as a complete character. There were also confusing moments of back story snippets with April’s character as well, but the set up and delivery of the premise was executed flawlessly and believably.
Their romance, because it is decidedly more than just a sexual attraction, is fraught with miscommunication, an altogether realistic portrayal of a contemporary relationship. I found myself wishing from time to time that instead of falling into those situations, despite both characters being well-intentioned, they spoke more on their hurts. This is a very heavy internal dialogue book, and I wished for more banter at times.
The sex was written in one chapter, but thankfully felt plausible and not out of nowhere. Most of the book is dedicated to their relationship as a whole. I’m a bigger fan of slow burn tension building when it comes to romance, and while Dade did a fantastic job of building that up in the beginning, after that chapter, there were many more fade to black scenes than I was hoping for in an adult romance novel.
Side characters in this novel didn’t get much of a chance to come across as fully developed despite a quite strong inkling that the next book will be about Alex and Lauren (and the excerpt at the end of confirmed it!). I also found that this book held lots of appeal to readers familiar with fanfiction, with heavy references to AO3 — Archive of Our Own for the unknowing. For readers unversed in fanfiction, or absent from it for a while (like me), the meta commentary was still funny and enjoyable.
I did deviate a lot with my feelings on the ending/climax of the book. Without giving spoilers, I will say that I went through a similar situation and would not have made the choices April did, and I think there might have been a way to tell the story so that it didn’t hinge on that one plot point.
Overall, I found the book to be enjoyable and I finished it in almost one sitting! I hope more people pick up this book and add it to their TBR pile, because this is written by someone who clearly gets it when it comes to the worries and experiences of fat people.
---------------
It’s a phrase I hear and use a lot as a librarian — “representation matters” — but it’s not one I ever thought I needed until I picked up this book. April Whittier is fat and Olivia Dade wants to make sure the reader knows about it.
As a small fat, not to mention a ginger like April, I cannot begin to tell you the amount of times I have experienced the fears, and the insecurities that April does — and she’s already put in so much work, like I have. But we live in a fat phobic culture, and sometimes… sometimes we just need someone else to show those insecure voices in our heads how wrong they are indeed.
From the dedication page, I knew this book was for me. I also knew that this book, due to society’s culture of hating all things fat, will not be for everyone. I even found myself battling some internalized stuff here and there as I read. I will also say that this novel is more romance than it is steamy smut, and I was disappointed in that honestly, but I understand how the escapism is still relevant and appealing.
April is a fully fleshed out character, though prone to doing a lot of emotional labor and “digging” on behalf of Marcus in the beginning since he’s only putting up a facade when they first meet. Her internal struggles with society accepting her will offer a wonderful mirror or window to any reader; because do not be mistaken — April Whittier has accepted herself in all her glory. It’s the rest of the world that needs to get with the program of learning that size =/= health.
I initially read Marcus to be as shallow as the persona he put on, even in the scenes when Dade is attempting her best to give him depth. It wasn’t until more about his backstory came to be revealed that I saw him as a complete character. There were also confusing moments of back story snippets with April’s character as well, but the set up and delivery of the premise was executed flawlessly and believably.
Their romance, because it is decidedly more than just a sexual attraction, is fraught with miscommunication, an altogether realistic portrayal of a contemporary relationship. I found myself wishing from time to time that instead of falling into those situations, despite both characters being well-intentioned, they spoke more on their hurts. This is a very heavy internal dialogue book, and I wished for more banter at times.
The sex was written in one chapter, but thankfully felt plausible and not out of nowhere. Most of the book is dedicated to their relationship as a whole. I’m a bigger fan of slow burn tension building when it comes to romance, and while Dade did a fantastic job of building that up in the beginning, after that chapter, there were many more fade to black scenes than I was hoping for in an adult romance novel.
Side characters in this novel didn’t get much of a chance to come across as fully developed despite a quite strong inkling that the next book will be about Alex and Lauren (and the excerpt at the end of confirmed it!). I also found that this book held lots of appeal to readers familiar with fanfiction, with heavy references to AO3 — Archive of Our Own for the unknowing. For readers unversed in fanfiction, or absent from it for a while (like me), the meta commentary was still funny and enjoyable.
I did deviate a lot with my feelings on the ending/climax of the book. Without giving spoilers, I will say that I went through a similar situation and would not have made the choices April did, and I think there might have been a way to tell the story so that it didn’t hinge on that one plot point.
Overall, I found the book to be enjoyable and I finished it in almost one sitting! I hope more people pick up this book and add it to their TBR pile, because this is written by someone who clearly gets it when it comes to the worries and experiences of fat people.
Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko
5.0
Full review [here].
I was hemming and hawing about starting this book (as I find myself wont to do lately), but from the first chapter, Raybearer kept a grip on my attention and imagination as the world of Aritsar came to life.
This is also one of my rarer 5 star reads! Maybe even the first of the year? Tarisai’s story is complex, at times an odyssey, and at others an introspection, but entirely compelling.
The plot and the craft alone that Ifueko uses to tell this story is absolutely beautiful, and there is little that has not been taken into consideration when it comes to how the world and the magic works. The biggest stumbling block for readers will likely be the first few pages, as Ifueko does a careful job immersing readers in the lore, as new terminology (to this reader at least) is introduced.
It’s easy to root for a protagonist; especially in YA, but Tarisai truly feels like she earns the adulation of the reader as the story progresses. She is complex and while her motivations are easy to understand, that does not detract from the depth Ifueko explores them and uses them to create emotionally impactful moments. Her character development is nuanced, as are the rest of the ensemble’s development. Thankfully, despite the possibility for a larger cast of side characters (there are 11 children on the council after all), Ifueko does an excellent job of not overwhelming the reader with unnecessary or hollow sounding dialog from characters that don’t have much impact on the story. So, while we learn who Tarisai’s council siblings are, it never becomes too much. I do hope that we will see more of her relationships with them, as well as get to know their personalities.
Of the side characters mentioned in the book; everyone gets some meaningful emotional weight and development that has an impact on their relationship with Tarisai. Most importantly, is The Lady. Never named, she functions as a non traditional anti-hero rather than outright villain; and the nuance of love Tarisai feels for her despite her emotionally and physically distant upbringing by her grants a tragic tint without being melodramatic. Out of all the characters, she is probably the most complex and has the most agency which she wields to her advantage in unpredictable, yet compelling ways.
There are no wasted words in Raybearer either, and Ifueko does a wonderful job placing innocuous breadcrumbs through the book that build into beautiful revelations later. I absolutely understand why my Sanderson-loving friend fell over himself urging me to finally read this despite it sitting on my TBR for a few months. The passage of time is also treated incredibly well, and Ifueko doesn’t get bogged down by describing anything that doesn’t merit being known.
Tarisai starts as a child, about 7 years old, and the book quickly progresses without feeling forced or like I missed anything to her being 17 or so. The age change doesn’t make the book less appealing for me either; and I found it refreshing to have an author take their time with a protagonist’s internal and interpersonal development. It makes the relationships Tarisai builds with others that much more believable because there is time behind them, making the emotions there ring truer though still intense.
The magic system, while not wholly unique, functions incredibly well within the lore. The use of Hallows, or innate magical abilities, has definitely been used before in fantasy, but the concept of the Ray and the council is where the story does great work with establishing something new. The bonds that are created, are shown incredibly well throughout the story, and the sense of family is overwhelming without stealing the limelight from the main themes of fate and destiny as it ties to ourselves, and as it ties to others, especially as we experience different modicums of power.
The world in Aritsar and the surrounding countries have a history, cultures, and values tied to religions, not to mention magical creatures (though not as many as I imagined, something hopefully explored in the sequel).The government, ruled by the Council, may seem a little flawed when you consider that they all were selected as children, but the selection process isn’t without incredible training either. Thankfully, Ifueko doesn’t spend inordinate amounts of time discussing the training, which rules this book out for readers looking for a competition based fantasy.
I also understand the choice to split Tarisai’s tale into a duology. It would be too long for a single YA novel, and this story fits exceedingly well into this first book. I am absolutely planning on reading the sequel when it comes out later this year, and in the mean time will be handing this book out to as many of my fantasy loving teens as I can, and maybe some coworkers who I know are in a similar camp as me to their fantasy novel preferences.
I heartily recommend this for grades 8+, only due to the fact that it is a high fantasy setting with a decent threshold of terminology to understand, and some mild representations of sex (other characters are having) that a younger reader might not understand or feel comfortable with despite the respectful and non-graphic nature of those moments. Perfect for fans of Brandon Sanderson, or those looking for another Afro-inspired fantasy setting like in Nnendi Okorafor’s Akata Witch, or readers looking for a fantasy without a strong romantic subplot influence. This story feels wholly authentic, and well worth adding to your TBR pile (if not shifting it to the top if it’s already there).
I was hemming and hawing about starting this book (as I find myself wont to do lately), but from the first chapter, Raybearer kept a grip on my attention and imagination as the world of Aritsar came to life.
This is also one of my rarer 5 star reads! Maybe even the first of the year? Tarisai’s story is complex, at times an odyssey, and at others an introspection, but entirely compelling.
The plot and the craft alone that Ifueko uses to tell this story is absolutely beautiful, and there is little that has not been taken into consideration when it comes to how the world and the magic works. The biggest stumbling block for readers will likely be the first few pages, as Ifueko does a careful job immersing readers in the lore, as new terminology (to this reader at least) is introduced.
It’s easy to root for a protagonist; especially in YA, but Tarisai truly feels like she earns the adulation of the reader as the story progresses. She is complex and while her motivations are easy to understand, that does not detract from the depth Ifueko explores them and uses them to create emotionally impactful moments. Her character development is nuanced, as are the rest of the ensemble’s development. Thankfully, despite the possibility for a larger cast of side characters (there are 11 children on the council after all), Ifueko does an excellent job of not overwhelming the reader with unnecessary or hollow sounding dialog from characters that don’t have much impact on the story. So, while we learn who Tarisai’s council siblings are, it never becomes too much. I do hope that we will see more of her relationships with them, as well as get to know their personalities.
Of the side characters mentioned in the book; everyone gets some meaningful emotional weight and development that has an impact on their relationship with Tarisai. Most importantly, is The Lady. Never named, she functions as a non traditional anti-hero rather than outright villain; and the nuance of love Tarisai feels for her despite her emotionally and physically distant upbringing by her grants a tragic tint without being melodramatic. Out of all the characters, she is probably the most complex and has the most agency which she wields to her advantage in unpredictable, yet compelling ways.
There are no wasted words in Raybearer either, and Ifueko does a wonderful job placing innocuous breadcrumbs through the book that build into beautiful revelations later. I absolutely understand why my Sanderson-loving friend fell over himself urging me to finally read this despite it sitting on my TBR for a few months. The passage of time is also treated incredibly well, and Ifueko doesn’t get bogged down by describing anything that doesn’t merit being known.
Tarisai starts as a child, about 7 years old, and the book quickly progresses without feeling forced or like I missed anything to her being 17 or so. The age change doesn’t make the book less appealing for me either; and I found it refreshing to have an author take their time with a protagonist’s internal and interpersonal development. It makes the relationships Tarisai builds with others that much more believable because there is time behind them, making the emotions there ring truer though still intense.
The magic system, while not wholly unique, functions incredibly well within the lore. The use of Hallows, or innate magical abilities, has definitely been used before in fantasy, but the concept of the Ray and the council is where the story does great work with establishing something new. The bonds that are created, are shown incredibly well throughout the story, and the sense of family is overwhelming without stealing the limelight from the main themes of fate and destiny as it ties to ourselves, and as it ties to others, especially as we experience different modicums of power.
The world in Aritsar and the surrounding countries have a history, cultures, and values tied to religions, not to mention magical creatures (though not as many as I imagined, something hopefully explored in the sequel).The government, ruled by the Council, may seem a little flawed when you consider that they all were selected as children, but the selection process isn’t without incredible training either. Thankfully, Ifueko doesn’t spend inordinate amounts of time discussing the training, which rules this book out for readers looking for a competition based fantasy.
I also understand the choice to split Tarisai’s tale into a duology. It would be too long for a single YA novel, and this story fits exceedingly well into this first book. I am absolutely planning on reading the sequel when it comes out later this year, and in the mean time will be handing this book out to as many of my fantasy loving teens as I can, and maybe some coworkers who I know are in a similar camp as me to their fantasy novel preferences.
I heartily recommend this for grades 8+, only due to the fact that it is a high fantasy setting with a decent threshold of terminology to understand, and some mild representations of sex (other characters are having) that a younger reader might not understand or feel comfortable with despite the respectful and non-graphic nature of those moments. Perfect for fans of Brandon Sanderson, or those looking for another Afro-inspired fantasy setting like in Nnendi Okorafor’s Akata Witch, or readers looking for a fantasy without a strong romantic subplot influence. This story feels wholly authentic, and well worth adding to your TBR pile (if not shifting it to the top if it’s already there).
The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory
3.0
Check out my other reviews [here.]
I was sold on this premise immediately: fake relationship turns into real romance? Sign me up! I was a little let down because typically there’s some hi jinks in those types of narratives, but this book skirted that. I also missed laughing out loud while reading; so while this was light it wasn't exactly mirthful. The relationship that Alexa and Drew find themselves in is so… familiar. In all the good ways and bad ways that such a word like “familiar” means.
Strait laced Alexa, and charismatic but aloof Drew have immediate chemistry in this debut novel. Both professionals with demanding jobs, the opportunity arises after getting stranded in an elevator together for Alexa to stop overthinking for a moment and help Drew, a complete stranger, out by being his fake girlfriend/date to his ex’s wedding he’s in town for. What could go wrong? What could go right?
A solid 3 star read for me; The Wedding Date is more of a love story than a traditional bodice ripping romance so it isn’t getting my “certified steamy” rating unfortunately. Though plenty of sex is had, my goodness.
Out of the two characters, I think Alexa was given more nuance despite the story switching very frequently between her and Drew’s perspectives. It’s a lot of switching actually, and time jumps, but none feel too brusque. It did make me feel a little removed from the story though, but having a relationship on the weekends means the weekdays do get boring, so while it makes for an interesting narrative style, it also keeps things honest. It also means the eventual “I’m falling in love, osh*t!” moments don’t feel unnatural, they’re right on time.
There was also a decent subplot, but it didn’t have the dramatic gravitas that I’ve come to expect from other contemporary romances. Again, something that made this book ring a little more… authentic, though the drama did get turned up in the last quarter thankfully.
There are also scenes that I appreciated being included. These are moments of everyday racism that are too plausible to deny the likelihood of them happening outside the confines of the margins, and it likely means different things to different readers when they come across those passages. For me, it was a moment to sit in a little bit of discomfort as a white reader when folks are racist to Alexa.
While I found Alexa overall likable, not to mention relatable, I found myself slow to like Drew. His internal thoughts, especially in the beginning, had me thinking he’s a bit of an asshole with major communication issues. Turns out it’s the communication issues making him the asshole. I wish the emotional obliviousness he lived in wasn’t so damningly accurate, but unfortunately he’s par for the course with most straight white men. In fact, I don’t think he really does anything above and beyond for Alexa until… maybe the last few pages of the book, and at that point it felt entirely performative. He had to do a grand gesture, and with so little room left in the book afterwards, I don’t really think he grew as a person. He did the bare minimum, and romance novels should be about doing more than that.
I found the small host of side characters to be thoroughly enjoyable, and appreciated them for giving sound advice and being supportive — even if it meant calling their friend out when either Alexa or Drew (but let’s be honest, mostly Drew) messed up.
In the moments when Alex and Drew did try to talk things out, I disliked how much Alexa tried to equalize hurts caused by both of them; and I really disliked how attempts at communicating got smothered out by them having sex. Those tongues should have been used for talking!!
I think this book wins the award for “Quickest into the Sheets!” for me, not that I minded, but I do love me a good slow burn. In fact, it opens up at their meet cute on the first page with little build up. I felt like I barely knew Alexa and she’s already salivating over Drew in the elevator. Beyond some hot and heavy eyeing each other, and some decently written making out, their chemistry never seemed false, but there could have been more.
As I mentioned earlier, The Wedding Date isn’t certified steamy for my standards. Not a lot of detail is put into those scenes, and they get sparser by the chapter. Thankfully this is not done to frustrate the reader with fading to black (still grumpy about The Unhoneymooners tbh) after a hot and heavy make out scene. It just doesn’t seem to be Guillory’s style. Of the foreplay she does write, there are… some issues I have with consent. Perhaps it’s something she considers vanilla, but restraining your partner’s hands is something that needs to be spoken about and not just… done. Certain phrases, especially Drew sounding possessive of Alexa, also made me cringe a moment or two as Alexa doesn’t seem to be concerned with the tone he takes with her.
All that aside, The Wedding Date is a semi-solid debut of a novel, and I’m looking forward to reading more of her work once I tear through the latest Talia Hibbert that just came in on hold for me. I have my hopes for which side characters get their own stories, Carlos and Olivia in particular, and Maddie as well. I do hope the characters feel a bit stronger in their personalities though and that there is more drama in future novels. I don’t know if I’d immediately hand this book to someone, maybe if they’d exhausted other writers first and showed a preference for romance over smut (though again, Drew is less than swoon worthy).
I was sold on this premise immediately: fake relationship turns into real romance? Sign me up! I was a little let down because typically there’s some hi jinks in those types of narratives, but this book skirted that. I also missed laughing out loud while reading; so while this was light it wasn't exactly mirthful. The relationship that Alexa and Drew find themselves in is so… familiar. In all the good ways and bad ways that such a word like “familiar” means.
Strait laced Alexa, and charismatic but aloof Drew have immediate chemistry in this debut novel. Both professionals with demanding jobs, the opportunity arises after getting stranded in an elevator together for Alexa to stop overthinking for a moment and help Drew, a complete stranger, out by being his fake girlfriend/date to his ex’s wedding he’s in town for. What could go wrong? What could go right?
A solid 3 star read for me; The Wedding Date is more of a love story than a traditional bodice ripping romance so it isn’t getting my “certified steamy” rating unfortunately. Though plenty of sex is had, my goodness.
Out of the two characters, I think Alexa was given more nuance despite the story switching very frequently between her and Drew’s perspectives. It’s a lot of switching actually, and time jumps, but none feel too brusque. It did make me feel a little removed from the story though, but having a relationship on the weekends means the weekdays do get boring, so while it makes for an interesting narrative style, it also keeps things honest. It also means the eventual “I’m falling in love, osh*t!” moments don’t feel unnatural, they’re right on time.
There was also a decent subplot, but it didn’t have the dramatic gravitas that I’ve come to expect from other contemporary romances. Again, something that made this book ring a little more… authentic, though the drama did get turned up in the last quarter thankfully.
There are also scenes that I appreciated being included. These are moments of everyday racism that are too plausible to deny the likelihood of them happening outside the confines of the margins, and it likely means different things to different readers when they come across those passages. For me, it was a moment to sit in a little bit of discomfort as a white reader when folks are racist to Alexa.
While I found Alexa overall likable, not to mention relatable, I found myself slow to like Drew. His internal thoughts, especially in the beginning, had me thinking he’s a bit of an asshole with major communication issues. Turns out it’s the communication issues making him the asshole. I wish the emotional obliviousness he lived in wasn’t so damningly accurate, but unfortunately he’s par for the course with most straight white men. In fact, I don’t think he really does anything above and beyond for Alexa until… maybe the last few pages of the book, and at that point it felt entirely performative. He had to do a grand gesture, and with so little room left in the book afterwards, I don’t really think he grew as a person. He did the bare minimum, and romance novels should be about doing more than that.
I found the small host of side characters to be thoroughly enjoyable, and appreciated them for giving sound advice and being supportive — even if it meant calling their friend out when either Alexa or Drew (but let’s be honest, mostly Drew) messed up.
In the moments when Alex and Drew did try to talk things out, I disliked how much Alexa tried to equalize hurts caused by both of them; and I really disliked how attempts at communicating got smothered out by them having sex. Those tongues should have been used for talking!!
I think this book wins the award for “Quickest into the Sheets!” for me, not that I minded, but I do love me a good slow burn. In fact, it opens up at their meet cute on the first page with little build up. I felt like I barely knew Alexa and she’s already salivating over Drew in the elevator. Beyond some hot and heavy eyeing each other, and some decently written making out, their chemistry never seemed false, but there could have been more.
As I mentioned earlier, The Wedding Date isn’t certified steamy for my standards. Not a lot of detail is put into those scenes, and they get sparser by the chapter. Thankfully this is not done to frustrate the reader with fading to black (still grumpy about The Unhoneymooners tbh) after a hot and heavy make out scene. It just doesn’t seem to be Guillory’s style. Of the foreplay she does write, there are… some issues I have with consent. Perhaps it’s something she considers vanilla, but restraining your partner’s hands is something that needs to be spoken about and not just… done. Certain phrases, especially Drew sounding possessive of Alexa, also made me cringe a moment or two as Alexa doesn’t seem to be concerned with the tone he takes with her.
All that aside, The Wedding Date is a semi-solid debut of a novel, and I’m looking forward to reading more of her work once I tear through the latest Talia Hibbert that just came in on hold for me. I have my hopes for which side characters get their own stories, Carlos and Olivia in particular, and Maddie as well. I do hope the characters feel a bit stronger in their personalities though and that there is more drama in future novels. I don’t know if I’d immediately hand this book to someone, maybe if they’d exhausted other writers first and showed a preference for romance over smut (though again, Drew is less than swoon worthy).
Witches Steeped in Gold by Ciannon Smart
2.0
Ultimately too high of a threshold to get over for accessibility, a magic system and world that after 100 pages still didn't make sense, and a plot that was incredibly difficult to follow and slow to pick up.
I had high hopes, and might try reading this again on another day.
I had high hopes, and might try reading this again on another day.
Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo
5.0
Check out my other reviews [here.]
My first Bardugo read!
It was exactly the book I have been craving: a dark, contemporary, urban fantasy set on the campus of Yale following the troubled world of Galaxy “Alex” Stern as she navigates her task as the newly selected Dante of the secret House Lethe — a job she has little experience or qualification for beyond her ability to see the dead as her old life of surviving the unsurvivable comes clashing and gnawing its way back to the surface of things she’d rather not remember. But her Virgil, the golden boy of House Lethe, Darlington is missing, and when a murder happens just off campus, some secrets just won’t stay buried, especially if the other secret Houses of Yale are involved.
Trigger warnings for the book include: sexual assault, body horror, self harm, drug use, drowning
In a hellish year, I can’t explain why I was drawn to Ninth House any more than I can explain why sometimes we crave discomfort. Bardugo pulls no punches in depicting the alternate reality of a collegiate magique grotesque, and readers will quickly know if this book is too far outside of their comfort zone by the first chapter or two.
She strikes a keen balance between clinical and lyrical descriptions of dark rituals, often invoking the horror of the reader immediately as bodily autonomy and informed consent are absent. Alex’s running critique throughout the book of the secret magical Houses helps temper the content a bit, if only to embitter the reader in an oddly “can’t look away” fashion.
The writing style Bardugo employs requires trust from the reader, for a delicate web has already been spun, and she is in complete control of when and where more of the strings come into the light of this beautifully macabre puppet show. Once readers become accustomed to the shock, the horror still exists between the lines, which is where this book succeeded for me on so many levels. Righteous anger and indignation at systemic socioeconomic harm and injustice fuel a subtle revenge narrative that simply operates on the principle of “No more.”
It is frustrating to be in Alex’s shoes for many reasons, as she is an outsider in so many ways, and her world view allows her to see the Houses for what they are — unfair advantages the elite have no intentions of ever sharing. She is also written in such a way that her character growth is intrinsically tied to the progression of the story, as it’s told in a non-linear fashion. Remember, you will only see what Bardugo wants you to see, when she thinks you need to see it. If you’re okay with that, then the first few chapters of wading into unknown waters with unreliable characters pays off.
And it works. It really really works. I am typically not a fan of non-linear story telling, or of multi-POV fantasy, but the deliberate care that has been taken with Ninth House makes it a shining example of how to employ those stylistic writing choices in a way that doesn’t frustrate readers. Every character has a reason for being introduced to the story, even Alex’s roommates who we might write off as unimportant, or “golden boy” Darlington for his periodic narrative control.
Ultimately, this book will not be for everyone due to the nature of the trigger warnings I mentioned above. The scenes where those triggers occur are not glorifying or censuring their violence, but they are an intrinsic part of the story by feeding into the life or death stakes of Ninth House. Sure, I hope Alex survives, but the possibility of her not…of the story going in 100 other directions is definitely there. The paradox of this book is we can trust not to trust where Bardugo will take us, only that it will be an expertly crafted adventure to get there.
For her first foray into adult fiction, Bardugo has claimed me as a future reader of the Alex Stern series. No update as of when the sequel will be published, but you can bet I will be placing a hold as soon as I can. There are reports of a television adaption of this novel, and I’m curious how it will fair due to the stylistic choices made for the story writing, especially given how wonderfully Shadow and Bone has done on Netflix thus far. I would give this to a reader looking for a segue from YA into adult fiction, someone who is okay with darkness, violence, and gore, and who will enjoy the way a story is told, not just the story itself. And maybe a dash of revenge.
My first Bardugo read!
It was exactly the book I have been craving: a dark, contemporary, urban fantasy set on the campus of Yale following the troubled world of Galaxy “Alex” Stern as she navigates her task as the newly selected Dante of the secret House Lethe — a job she has little experience or qualification for beyond her ability to see the dead as her old life of surviving the unsurvivable comes clashing and gnawing its way back to the surface of things she’d rather not remember. But her Virgil, the golden boy of House Lethe, Darlington is missing, and when a murder happens just off campus, some secrets just won’t stay buried, especially if the other secret Houses of Yale are involved.
Trigger warnings for the book include: sexual assault, body horror, self harm, drug use, drowning
In a hellish year, I can’t explain why I was drawn to Ninth House any more than I can explain why sometimes we crave discomfort. Bardugo pulls no punches in depicting the alternate reality of a collegiate magique grotesque, and readers will quickly know if this book is too far outside of their comfort zone by the first chapter or two.
She strikes a keen balance between clinical and lyrical descriptions of dark rituals, often invoking the horror of the reader immediately as bodily autonomy and informed consent are absent. Alex’s running critique throughout the book of the secret magical Houses helps temper the content a bit, if only to embitter the reader in an oddly “can’t look away” fashion.
The writing style Bardugo employs requires trust from the reader, for a delicate web has already been spun, and she is in complete control of when and where more of the strings come into the light of this beautifully macabre puppet show. Once readers become accustomed to the shock, the horror still exists between the lines, which is where this book succeeded for me on so many levels. Righteous anger and indignation at systemic socioeconomic harm and injustice fuel a subtle revenge narrative that simply operates on the principle of “No more.”
It is frustrating to be in Alex’s shoes for many reasons, as she is an outsider in so many ways, and her world view allows her to see the Houses for what they are — unfair advantages the elite have no intentions of ever sharing. She is also written in such a way that her character growth is intrinsically tied to the progression of the story, as it’s told in a non-linear fashion. Remember, you will only see what Bardugo wants you to see, when she thinks you need to see it. If you’re okay with that, then the first few chapters of wading into unknown waters with unreliable characters pays off.
And it works. It really really works. I am typically not a fan of non-linear story telling, or of multi-POV fantasy, but the deliberate care that has been taken with Ninth House makes it a shining example of how to employ those stylistic writing choices in a way that doesn’t frustrate readers. Every character has a reason for being introduced to the story, even Alex’s roommates who we might write off as unimportant, or “golden boy” Darlington for his periodic narrative control.
Ultimately, this book will not be for everyone due to the nature of the trigger warnings I mentioned above. The scenes where those triggers occur are not glorifying or censuring their violence, but they are an intrinsic part of the story by feeding into the life or death stakes of Ninth House. Sure, I hope Alex survives, but the possibility of her not…of the story going in 100 other directions is definitely there. The paradox of this book is we can trust not to trust where Bardugo will take us, only that it will be an expertly crafted adventure to get there.
For her first foray into adult fiction, Bardugo has claimed me as a future reader of the Alex Stern series. No update as of when the sequel will be published, but you can bet I will be placing a hold as soon as I can. There are reports of a television adaption of this novel, and I’m curious how it will fair due to the stylistic choices made for the story writing, especially given how wonderfully Shadow and Bone has done on Netflix thus far. I would give this to a reader looking for a segue from YA into adult fiction, someone who is okay with darkness, violence, and gore, and who will enjoy the way a story is told, not just the story itself. And maybe a dash of revenge.
Artificial Condition by Martha Wells
5.0
Another fantastic installment for the murderbot series! Happy to be tearing through these, and that this sequel has absolutely held up to the tone and humor of the first Murderbot.
On to #3!
On to #3!