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That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming
Hmm. I guess I both do and don’t get the appeal.
In many ways, this is a really fun book. The banter made me laugh more than once. I’m one of the people who really likes the deliberate anachronisms in my high fantasy, so that style worked great for me. It was fun to see a fantasy setting that actively included African animals instead of the wildlife consisting of plain old wolves and bears. The early part in Cinnamon’s village was really lovely, with the festival, and the family times, and that general vibe of a fairly close-knit community that isn’t without its problems. Overall there’s this fun, quirky, tongue-in-cheek vibe that makes this quite an entertaining read, especially if you just go with the flow and don’t stop to overthink anything.
Unfortunately, I *am* an overthinker 😅 So I kept diving out of the fun quirkiness to poke at the plot and the characters, and quite often, nothing was as cozy or relaxing as the packaging and the reviews I’ve seen promised. I think that the author was aiming for a lighthearted adventure+romcom mix with fairly simple external conflicts, but instead of inventing appropriate conflicts for that goal, she simplified the characters’ reactions to the more typical high fantasy situations. As a result, the book at times came perilously close to actively making light of things like slavery or genocide. And it was really weird how in stride everyone took their entire world view shattering whenever they discovered the truth about the goddess and the demons. Generally, people took so much in stride that it gave me the impression no one cared about anything, even when they said otherwise and claimed that their motivations were to do good (like in Usha’s case).
Also, Fallon’s whole “if I dislike someone/they’re in my way, I feel like killing them” attitude was too over the top for me. I get the appeal of demonic characters like that, kinda, but I always want more nuance in that archetype, and when the trope is played as straight as it is here, it feels more frightening than attractive to me personally. Especially since I felt like Cinnamon gradually adopted more of his attitude even though early on she advocated for more peaceful solutions. But then later on she cheerfully rolled with some decisions that, if you look at them from other affected parties’ perspective, were pretty gross.
Overall, I think I can describe my impression as really liking the “how” and not at all enjoying the “what.” I would have enjoyed the book more if it leaned more fully into lightheartedness and stayed away from subject matters with heavy and serious implications.
adventurous
funny
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
Clearly, the gods had favorites, and I wasn’t one of them.
Hmm. I guess I both do and don’t get the appeal.
In many ways, this is a really fun book. The banter made me laugh more than once. I’m one of the people who really likes the deliberate anachronisms in my high fantasy, so that style worked great for me. It was fun to see a fantasy setting that actively included African animals instead of the wildlife consisting of plain old wolves and bears. The early part in Cinnamon’s village was really lovely, with the festival, and the family times, and that general vibe of a fairly close-knit community that isn’t without its problems. Overall there’s this fun, quirky, tongue-in-cheek vibe that makes this quite an entertaining read, especially if you just go with the flow and don’t stop to overthink anything.
Unfortunately, I *am* an overthinker 😅 So I kept diving out of the fun quirkiness to poke at the plot and the characters, and quite often, nothing was as cozy or relaxing as the packaging and the reviews I’ve seen promised. I think that the author was aiming for a lighthearted adventure+romcom mix with fairly simple external conflicts, but instead of inventing appropriate conflicts for that goal, she simplified the characters’ reactions to the more typical high fantasy situations. As a result, the book at times came perilously close to actively making light of things like slavery or genocide. And it was really weird how in stride everyone took their entire world view shattering whenever they discovered the truth about the goddess and the demons. Generally, people took so much in stride that it gave me the impression no one cared about anything, even when they said otherwise and claimed that their motivations were to do good (like in Usha’s case).
Also, Fallon’s whole “if I dislike someone/they’re in my way, I feel like killing them” attitude was too over the top for me. I get the appeal of demonic characters like that, kinda, but I always want more nuance in that archetype, and when the trope is played as straight as it is here, it feels more frightening than attractive to me personally. Especially since I felt like Cinnamon gradually adopted more of his attitude even though early on she advocated for more peaceful solutions. But then later on she cheerfully rolled with some decisions that, if you look at them from other affected parties’ perspective, were pretty gross.
Overall, I think I can describe my impression as really liking the “how” and not at all enjoying the “what.” I would have enjoyed the book more if it leaned more fully into lightheartedness and stayed away from subject matters with heavy and serious implications.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Animal death, Slavery, Violence, Alcohol
Moderate: Sexual assault
Minor: Child death, Fatphobia, Grief
Bloodline by Jordan L. Hawk
Whyborne in the previous book: “If we survive this, I’m going to embrace my sorcery like never before. I won’t let anything stop me.”
Whyborne as this new book begins: “So, I’m still sneaking around working on my spells where Griffin can’t see me because he gets worried and I don’t want to fight…”
Excuse me while I go start this review process by screaming into the pillow.
This is honestly ridiculous how much I love this series for everything *around* the romance. The worldbuilding, the eldritch magic, the city of Widdershins and all other locations, the cast of all these well-rounded, colorful, unique characters, the mysteries, the horrors, the plot twists—I could go on and on. Cracking open another installment is like coming home. I even like Whyborne and Griffin individually! But the romance? Ugh. I’m beginning to wish each of them found someone new and stopped dancing this masochism tango. Because yeah, they proclaim that they love each other a lot, and they have lots of great sex, and they’re amazing at grand gestures and dramatic declarations when everything’s about to go to hell in a handbasket. The actual relationship part? I’m just not buying it. For me, what defines a good, shippable long-term relationship is trust. When they’ve been together for more than a couple of years, and Griffin still doesn’t trust Whyborne to know what he’s doing while Whyborne doesn’t trust Griffin enough to initiate a reasonable conversation instead of sneaking around… Well, excuse me and my screaming pillow.
What’s even worse for me is that their problems aren’t evolving. I expect the leads in a long romance series following the same couple to keep having problems and conflict! It’s the lifeblood of the story! But I want them to deal with new issues that come from the new stages of their relationships. Or with issues newly unearthed because of the increase in trust, something that didn’t seem to be a problem before because neither of them was prepared to talk about it or let it show. Or issues born out of the solutions to the previous book’s conflict, those are stellar, too. And I swear it’s possible to write a series like that! Charlie Adhara managed beautifully with Big Bad Wolf, for one.
Whyborne and Griffin, meanwhile, just keep dancing around the very same issue book after book, and they’re doing it in a way that brings out the worst in each other. Like, should Whyborne have known better in this book? Absolutely! He did some pretty dumb things that made me want to physically shake him. But I kept thinking that maybe if he had, you know, a safe space to talk about his sorcery and his feelings on it at home, then maybe it would be easier for him to avoid the mess. Maybe he wouldn’t even have walked into it in the first place! Instead the state of his relationship with Griffin—for which they’re both equally responsible—kept pushing him to go along with his cousins’ hypocritical antics.
Ugh. I could rant this way for hours, but I guess I’ll stop and focus instead on all the things I enjoyed, of which there are plenty. Whyborne’s family history is a delightfully dark mess on both sides, and I was so invested in having all of those hints from previous books paying off. The whole storyline with the shark people and the prophecy and everything, it just hit me right in all my most vulnerable feels. The mystery wasn’t fully unpredictable, but there were some red herrings thrown in that diverted my attention successfully enough, and then some cool unforeseen nuance to how it all resolved. It was amazing to learn more about the setting, specifically the way the city of Widdershins functions magically. I also absolutely adored the character work here, from getting to see more of all those wonderfully weird and quirky people at the museum to the whole thing with Whyborne’s father. Like… how did the author make me abhor him so thoroughly but also hurt for him at the end? Magic. Plain writing magic.
I only wish there was more Christine here, though I always wish for more Christine. And I’m not a fan of how Guinevere’s all too short involvement was handled (specifically the “all too short” part). I do hope that Persephone at least will become a fixture in future books, because she’s so lovely, and I’m so curious about all the ways her rapport with Whyborne may develop. Also, I hope we’ll get more museum in the future. And that Whyborne’s father won’t fade into the background and the redefined complexities of their relationship will continue adding to the plot and the character development as the series progresses.
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
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
One for the land and one for the sea.
Whyborne in the previous book: “If we survive this, I’m going to embrace my sorcery like never before. I won’t let anything stop me.”
Whyborne as this new book begins: “So, I’m still sneaking around working on my spells where Griffin can’t see me because he gets worried and I don’t want to fight…”
Excuse me while I go start this review process by screaming into the pillow.
This is honestly ridiculous how much I love this series for everything *around* the romance. The worldbuilding, the eldritch magic, the city of Widdershins and all other locations, the cast of all these well-rounded, colorful, unique characters, the mysteries, the horrors, the plot twists—I could go on and on. Cracking open another installment is like coming home. I even like Whyborne and Griffin individually! But the romance? Ugh. I’m beginning to wish each of them found someone new and stopped dancing this masochism tango. Because yeah, they proclaim that they love each other a lot, and they have lots of great sex, and they’re amazing at grand gestures and dramatic declarations when everything’s about to go to hell in a handbasket. The actual relationship part? I’m just not buying it. For me, what defines a good, shippable long-term relationship is trust. When they’ve been together for more than a couple of years, and Griffin still doesn’t trust Whyborne to know what he’s doing while Whyborne doesn’t trust Griffin enough to initiate a reasonable conversation instead of sneaking around… Well, excuse me and my screaming pillow.
What’s even worse for me is that their problems aren’t evolving. I expect the leads in a long romance series following the same couple to keep having problems and conflict! It’s the lifeblood of the story! But I want them to deal with new issues that come from the new stages of their relationships. Or with issues newly unearthed because of the increase in trust, something that didn’t seem to be a problem before because neither of them was prepared to talk about it or let it show. Or issues born out of the solutions to the previous book’s conflict, those are stellar, too. And I swear it’s possible to write a series like that! Charlie Adhara managed beautifully with Big Bad Wolf, for one.
Whyborne and Griffin, meanwhile, just keep dancing around the very same issue book after book, and they’re doing it in a way that brings out the worst in each other. Like, should Whyborne have known better in this book? Absolutely! He did some pretty dumb things that made me want to physically shake him. But I kept thinking that maybe if he had, you know, a safe space to talk about his sorcery and his feelings on it at home, then maybe it would be easier for him to avoid the mess. Maybe he wouldn’t even have walked into it in the first place! Instead the state of his relationship with Griffin—for which they’re both equally responsible—kept pushing him to go along with his cousins’ hypocritical antics.
Ugh. I could rant this way for hours, but I guess I’ll stop and focus instead on all the things I enjoyed, of which there are plenty. Whyborne’s family history is a delightfully dark mess on both sides, and I was so invested in having all of those hints from previous books paying off. The whole storyline with the shark people and the prophecy and everything, it just hit me right in all my most vulnerable feels. The mystery wasn’t fully unpredictable, but there were some red herrings thrown in that diverted my attention successfully enough, and then some cool unforeseen nuance to how it all resolved. It was amazing to learn more about the setting, specifically the way the city of Widdershins functions magically. I also absolutely adored the character work here, from getting to see more of all those wonderfully weird and quirky people at the museum to the whole thing with Whyborne’s father. Like… how did the author make me abhor him so thoroughly but also hurt for him at the end? Magic. Plain writing magic.
I only wish there was more Christine here, though I always wish for more Christine. And I’m not a fan of how Guinevere’s all too short involvement was handled (specifically the “all too short” part). I do hope that Persephone at least will become a fixture in future books, because she’s so lovely, and I’m so curious about all the ways her rapport with Whyborne may develop. Also, I hope we’ll get more museum in the future. And that Whyborne’s father won’t fade into the background and the redefined complexities of their relationship will continue adding to the plot and the character development as the series progresses.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Gun violence, Blood, Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Homophobia
How to Get a Girlfriend When You're A Terrifying Monster by Marie Cardno
Oh my. Was this written purposefully for me or what?
I came for the eldritch-flavored romance, but I ended up staying just for the eldritch. It’s nothing *that* innovative, I suppose—all the familiar tentacles and too many eyes and spaces that keep changing on you in all possible and impossible ways—but it’s just so nicely done.
I loved the Endless Void. I loved the interactions between Trillis, a fragment of the Endless, and Sian, a magic student doing her thesis on the eldritch dimension. (I so envy Sian, I want to go to an eldritch dimension, too, for science.) I loved it all so much I didn’t even mind the instant attraction which is normally a meh or even a turn off for me. Everything about this book is just so surreally cute and horrifically cozy and delightfully trippy.
Oh, and the writing is chef’s kiss. So witty and whacky, it just suits the subject material perfectly, you know? This is exactly how we should all write about cosmic horrors when we present them as just, you know, entities that exist and can even be loved, and not unknowable antagonists.
I don’t know what else to say except that I love this to bits and want more. Excuse me while I go turn into a happy puddle of goo.
emotional
funny
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? It's complicated
5.0
Changing is easy. It’s staying the same that’s so hard.
Oh my. Was this written purposefully for me or what?
I came for the eldritch-flavored romance, but I ended up staying just for the eldritch. It’s nothing *that* innovative, I suppose—all the familiar tentacles and too many eyes and spaces that keep changing on you in all possible and impossible ways—but it’s just so nicely done.
I loved the Endless Void. I loved the interactions between Trillis, a fragment of the Endless, and Sian, a magic student doing her thesis on the eldritch dimension. (I so envy Sian, I want to go to an eldritch dimension, too, for science.) I loved it all so much I didn’t even mind the instant attraction which is normally a meh or even a turn off for me. Everything about this book is just so surreally cute and horrifically cozy and delightfully trippy.
Oh, and the writing is chef’s kiss. So witty and whacky, it just suits the subject material perfectly, you know? This is exactly how we should all write about cosmic horrors when we present them as just, you know, entities that exist and can even be loved, and not unknowable antagonists.
I don’t know what else to say except that I love this to bits and want more. Excuse me while I go turn into a happy puddle of goo.
The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri
Oh, look, it’s only 2025 and I’m finally done with the 2021 Sapphic Trifecta! :D What can I say in my defense? So many books, so little time. Anyway, I’m really glad I’ve got to this one at last, because wow, such a genuinely engrossing read This is one of those rare instances when I, normally a very character-oriented reader, got enchanted by the worldbuilding first and foremost and remained under its spell till the last page. The politics! The social structures! The magic! The body horror sickness that turns people into plants! All of it is just so fascinating, and I vastly appreciate how so much information has been conveyed without info dumps. In fact, the author takes the polar opposite approach that I adore, just letting the characters live in their world and interact with the concepts familiar to them without overthinking or overexplaining. This made for a confusing few chapters at the beginning, but it only took some reading on to organically get answers to all my questions.
As for the characters, I really liked both Priya and Malini. Probably more than liked Malini, to be honest—she’s been growing on me with each her appearance. I really admired her for being so strong while objectively being at her weakest, and for using her weakness as a weapon and a tool. She’s manipulative in the best way, she makes it clear she knows what she wants even before she discloses to the reader what it even is, and she’s got a heart underneath the layers upon layers of masks and plots. In other words, she’s complex and lovely and I’m anxious to know what she does next in the series. With Priya, I wish she had a bit more of an agenda throughout the story. She does get there eventually, and when she does, it’s absolutely glorious, but in the first half of the book she follows the narrative more than she creates it. I wouldn’t call it a flaw of either the character or the storytelling, though—it totally makes sense for her to be like that, and she's got plenty of traits and opinions that keep her interesting. The rest of the cast is also full of compelling personalities painted in varying shades of grey, especially when it comes to other female characters like Bhumika or Pramila.
One complaint I have about this book is the number of POVs. It kind of reminded me of The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo in that regard. At least in case of The Jasmine Throne, the intention between all those POVs is pretty clear: to inspect and explore the topics of colonialism and tyranny from various angles, to show all the different ways of looking at it, etc. Unfortunately, this intent was a little too obvious. Some of those characters, in their own chapters, felt more like mouthpieces for the stances they represented. They felt a lot more alive and complex when seen through Malini’s or Priya’s eyes. I also have doubts about the author’s choice to reveal certain plot-relevant information that intimately concerned the MCs’ arcs through those side characters’ POV chapters. Just to give one example, I believe Priya’s reunion with Ashok would have been a lot more impactful if the latter didn’t get his own POV earlier.
dark
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
4.5
There is no meaning in the universe: no fate, no high blood, no rights of kings over land. Everything is emptiness. The world only has meaning when we give it meaning.
Oh, look, it’s only 2025 and I’m finally done with the 2021 Sapphic Trifecta! :D What can I say in my defense? So many books, so little time. Anyway, I’m really glad I’ve got to this one at last, because wow, such a genuinely engrossing read This is one of those rare instances when I, normally a very character-oriented reader, got enchanted by the worldbuilding first and foremost and remained under its spell till the last page. The politics! The social structures! The magic! The body horror sickness that turns people into plants! All of it is just so fascinating, and I vastly appreciate how so much information has been conveyed without info dumps. In fact, the author takes the polar opposite approach that I adore, just letting the characters live in their world and interact with the concepts familiar to them without overthinking or overexplaining. This made for a confusing few chapters at the beginning, but it only took some reading on to organically get answers to all my questions.
As for the characters, I really liked both Priya and Malini. Probably more than liked Malini, to be honest—she’s been growing on me with each her appearance. I really admired her for being so strong while objectively being at her weakest, and for using her weakness as a weapon and a tool. She’s manipulative in the best way, she makes it clear she knows what she wants even before she discloses to the reader what it even is, and she’s got a heart underneath the layers upon layers of masks and plots. In other words, she’s complex and lovely and I’m anxious to know what she does next in the series. With Priya, I wish she had a bit more of an agenda throughout the story. She does get there eventually, and when she does, it’s absolutely glorious, but in the first half of the book she follows the narrative more than she creates it. I wouldn’t call it a flaw of either the character or the storytelling, though—it totally makes sense for her to be like that, and she's got plenty of traits and opinions that keep her interesting. The rest of the cast is also full of compelling personalities painted in varying shades of grey, especially when it comes to other female characters like Bhumika or Pramila.
One complaint I have about this book is the number of POVs. It kind of reminded me of The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo in that regard. At least in case of The Jasmine Throne, the intention between all those POVs is pretty clear: to inspect and explore the topics of colonialism and tyranny from various angles, to show all the different ways of looking at it, etc. Unfortunately, this intent was a little too obvious. Some of those characters, in their own chapters, felt more like mouthpieces for the stances they represented. They felt a lot more alive and complex when seen through Malini’s or Priya’s eyes. I also have doubts about the author’s choice to reveal certain plot-relevant information that intimately concerned the MCs’ arcs through those side characters’ POV chapters. Just to give one example, I believe Priya’s reunion with Ashok would have been a lot more impactful if the latter didn’t get his own POV earlier.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body horror, Homophobia, Violence, Fire/Fire injury
Moderate: Self harm, Suicidal thoughts
Pretty Pretty Boys by Gregory Ashe
Funny thing: I kind of struggle to pinpoint the genre of the book. On one hand, it's frequently recced in m/m romance circle alongside many of my favorite mystery-romance hybrids like the Big Bad Wolf series by Charlie Adhara or The Spectral Files by S.E. Harmon. Books where the crimes and the investigations are inherently important to the plot, sure, but there's always a classic romance arc with all the predictable beats at the heart of the story.
Here, on one hand, this is more like... just a mystery where one MC happens to be gay, the other is somewhere between bicurious and undecided, and they happen to have moments of chemistry while one of them actually starts off in a (failing) relationship with a completely different guy and then pursues yet another different guy as a rebound. Nothing happens between the MCs over the course of the story. Their interactions, more often than not, are focused on the investigations and on figuring out how to be work partners given their complicated history. The main complication being that one of them bullied the other relentlessly while they were in high school.
In other words, practically none of the things you expect to happen in a genre romance novel do not, in fact, happen. And yet I keep thinking about this book as a romance, because of how the story is told. There's the dual POV with switches happening at very specific emotional highs and lows. There's that particular way both leads focus on each other whenever they interact. And there actually are those familiar romance beats, too, except they're super spaced out and the progression of the romance arc is slowed down to something beyond glacial. This is an almost 400-pages book, and if you apply the Romancing the Beat structure to it, I think by the time the whole novel ends the MCs have barely crawled to the late Phase 1, hovering somewhere in the beginnings of the Adhesion step.Poking at the internet for spoilers tells me they're gonna get together at the end of book 4, which tracks.
So, I guess, it's a Schrodinger's romance: if you only look at what happens in the book, it doesn't belong under the genre umbrella, but when you look at how the story's told and if you're good at identifying the beats and the vibes, it absolutely does. Which alone makes it a super interesting experience for me. I'm very much a fan of all things slow burn, by the way, and I do feel like super, super slow is the only way a relationship with such a heavy background can develop. Like, honestly, even with this crawling speed of developments, I don’t feel like I’m fully sold on this relationship due to the background; if I was expected to see these two as romantic partners by the end of book 1, I’d probably bail. Still, this kind of pacing of the romantic storyline feels weirdly unexpected.
The mystery component is paced pretty slowly, too, and in this case, there's no such easy justification. Honestly, I don't think I liked the mystery part very much, sadly. I think to keep the reader invested in an investigation there has to be some sort of urgency, or importance. Here, the narrative was constructed, again, in a way more suitable for the romance genre. The MCs kept investigating the thing, kinda. But there were all those asides into how it makes them feel, and how their pasts, both shared and independent, define their view of things, and also structural asides about whatever's happening around them with work, people in their lives, etc. The mystery was the central plot that was handled like a plot device existing to help us to know the leads, and it resulted in lots of clunkiness.
What I really enjoyed about the book was the prose and the strong atmosphere created with each descriptive passage or a strategically placed one-liner. Every location came alive on the page in a matter of seconds, and the changes in the characters’ mindsets and emotional states were always conveyed clearly, even when the reasoning behind those changes wasn’t yet clarified. The author has a clear talent for picking out metaphors that enhance the mood. Another strength is the sheer vileness of villains: the bad guys here are mainly nazis/white suprematists, and this is one of the few times when, reading about such villains, I came rather close to understanding why they are that way and what makes them believe they’re doing the right thing. (I want to make it very clear that the book does *not* justify these views or excuse the characters who practice them! All of the awful badness is portrayed for what it is. But the villains are very convinced and convincing and that’s what makes them so scary).
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
The past stayed with you. The past was like poison, and it built up in you like poison, like lead in your tap water, until it killed you.
Funny thing: I kind of struggle to pinpoint the genre of the book. On one hand, it's frequently recced in m/m romance circle alongside many of my favorite mystery-romance hybrids like the Big Bad Wolf series by Charlie Adhara or The Spectral Files by S.E. Harmon. Books where the crimes and the investigations are inherently important to the plot, sure, but there's always a classic romance arc with all the predictable beats at the heart of the story.
Here, on one hand, this is more like... just a mystery where one MC happens to be gay, the other is somewhere between bicurious and undecided, and they happen to have moments of chemistry while one of them actually starts off in a (failing) relationship with a completely different guy and then pursues yet another different guy as a rebound. Nothing happens between the MCs over the course of the story. Their interactions, more often than not, are focused on the investigations and on figuring out how to be work partners given their complicated history. The main complication being that one of them bullied the other relentlessly while they were in high school.
In other words, practically none of the things you expect to happen in a genre romance novel do not, in fact, happen. And yet I keep thinking about this book as a romance, because of how the story is told. There's the dual POV with switches happening at very specific emotional highs and lows. There's that particular way both leads focus on each other whenever they interact. And there actually are those familiar romance beats, too, except they're super spaced out and the progression of the romance arc is slowed down to something beyond glacial. This is an almost 400-pages book, and if you apply the Romancing the Beat structure to it, I think by the time the whole novel ends the MCs have barely crawled to the late Phase 1, hovering somewhere in the beginnings of the Adhesion step.
So, I guess, it's a Schrodinger's romance: if you only look at what happens in the book, it doesn't belong under the genre umbrella, but when you look at how the story's told and if you're good at identifying the beats and the vibes, it absolutely does. Which alone makes it a super interesting experience for me. I'm very much a fan of all things slow burn, by the way, and I do feel like super, super slow is the only way a relationship with such a heavy background can develop. Like, honestly, even with this crawling speed of developments, I don’t feel like I’m fully sold on this relationship due to the background; if I was expected to see these two as romantic partners by the end of book 1, I’d probably bail. Still, this kind of pacing of the romantic storyline feels weirdly unexpected.
The mystery component is paced pretty slowly, too, and in this case, there's no such easy justification. Honestly, I don't think I liked the mystery part very much, sadly. I think to keep the reader invested in an investigation there has to be some sort of urgency, or importance. Here, the narrative was constructed, again, in a way more suitable for the romance genre. The MCs kept investigating the thing, kinda. But there were all those asides into how it makes them feel, and how their pasts, both shared and independent, define their view of things, and also structural asides about whatever's happening around them with work, people in their lives, etc. The mystery was the central plot that was handled like a plot device existing to help us to know the leads, and it resulted in lots of clunkiness.
What I really enjoyed about the book was the prose and the strong atmosphere created with each descriptive passage or a strategically placed one-liner. Every location came alive on the page in a matter of seconds, and the changes in the characters’ mindsets and emotional states were always conveyed clearly, even when the reasoning behind those changes wasn’t yet clarified. The author has a clear talent for picking out metaphors that enhance the mood. Another strength is the sheer vileness of villains: the bad guys here are mainly nazis/white suprematists, and this is one of the few times when, reading about such villains, I came rather close to understanding why they are that way and what makes them believe they’re doing the right thing. (I want to make it very clear that the book does *not* justify these views or excuse the characters who practice them! All of the awful badness is portrayed for what it is. But the villains are very convinced and convincing and that’s what makes them so scary).
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcoholism, Bullying, Domestic abuse, Hate crime, Homophobia, Infidelity, Violence, Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Death, Gun violence, Rape, Suicide
The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman
This book is a great example of that approach where the MC isn’t really the protagonist. It reminded me of Bloody Rose by Nicholas Eames, a story about an established adventuring band told through the POV of its newest member who ends up well in the thick of things but isn’t really the mover and shaker of the plot. Much like Callum here in The Bright Sword. He is very explicitly a plot device of a character, existing first to provide a lens for the story and then to go with its flow and do the things the narrative needs to get done, but he’s also relatable and likable and not without depth.
The cast overall is full of colorful personalities, though the villainous ones tend to fall a bit flat. They’re not just bad guys who do bad things for bad reasons, of course; each of them has a motivation that makes some sense and their darkness is tinted with moral greyness. Still, they feel more like they’re there to serve specific plot points and messages rather than to have experiences on the page, if that makes sense. The characters we’re meant to root for, on the other hand, really shine. I particularly appreciated the way queerness was handled: how it was such an integral part of who those specific knights were, but also not the one key thing about them, and how the subject was injected into the setting. Were these characters accepted by the world at large? Not really. Were they able to carve lives for themselves where what the world at large thought didn’t matter? For the most part, yes. On a vaguely related note, literally all the prominent female characters were so wonderful and completely dominated my list of favorites. Guinevere, Nimue, Morgan—I can’t get enough of any of them.
Speaking of the setting, I really enjoyed how the historical aspect is handled here. Arthur’s all too brief reign and its immediate aftermath are slotted rather neatly into the time right after the Romans’ withdrawal from Britain—or, should I say, into a slightly alternate version of it. The parts related to the post-colonialism, the numerous adjustments, and the ongoing struggle between Christianity and pagan beliefs feel so spot-on that they make it easy to take multiple anachronisms in stride, from armor that doesn’t really fit the time period to Baghdad of the Islamic Golden Age being a place that already exists. All of this feels as genuinely appropriate for an Arthurian story as the faeries, magical islands, and mysterious curses. But still, the presence of a real sense of era, a specific time period that lends itself as a background for all the fiction, grounds the story and really helps promote the themes of grief, change, and moving on without quite letting go.
The plot itself is at times a little meandering, but in a way that I can actually get behind: there’s this sense of not knowing what to do, what to expect, if there’s an acceptable future at all, and it’s very in line with, again, the themes and the vibe of the book. At times, though, the structure is where the story suffers. Multiple times, especially in the first half of the book, there are these situations where a chapter ends on the kind of cliffhanger that makes you immediately abandon all other plans and keep reading to find out what comes next. And then what comes next is a flashback. A really vital flashback that adds amazing depth to a character or several and uncovers important details about this version of the Arthurian mythos. A beautifully written one, even. Goes on for miles and miles, while you sit there being all, “That’s cool, but what about the aftermath of the cliffhanger?” Or that’s very much how I sat there, at any rate. If I were reading this book with my eyeballs, I would probably moreo r less skim those flashback chapters in my hurry to get to the “what’s next” part, and that would be a pity, because they’re so good! But so unfortunately placed. It’s like inserting a whole different paragraph mid-sentence.
All in all, I’d describe this as a fictionalized exploration of a specific time period, and a contemplation of certain timeless issues through historical fantasy lens, and a bunch of character studies, all rolled into one. Slow, thorough, sometimes a bit muddled, but ultimately engrossing.
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
sad
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
One day you will see that it is a mistake to love an empire, or a throne, or a crown, because those things cannot love. They can only die.
This book is a great example of that approach where the MC isn’t really the protagonist. It reminded me of Bloody Rose by Nicholas Eames, a story about an established adventuring band told through the POV of its newest member who ends up well in the thick of things but isn’t really the mover and shaker of the plot. Much like Callum here in The Bright Sword. He is very explicitly a plot device of a character, existing first to provide a lens for the story and then to go with its flow and do the things the narrative needs to get done, but he’s also relatable and likable and not without depth.
The cast overall is full of colorful personalities, though the villainous ones tend to fall a bit flat. They’re not just bad guys who do bad things for bad reasons, of course; each of them has a motivation that makes some sense and their darkness is tinted with moral greyness. Still, they feel more like they’re there to serve specific plot points and messages rather than to have experiences on the page, if that makes sense. The characters we’re meant to root for, on the other hand, really shine. I particularly appreciated the way queerness was handled: how it was such an integral part of who those specific knights were, but also not the one key thing about them, and how the subject was injected into the setting. Were these characters accepted by the world at large? Not really. Were they able to carve lives for themselves where what the world at large thought didn’t matter? For the most part, yes. On a vaguely related note, literally all the prominent female characters were so wonderful and completely dominated my list of favorites. Guinevere, Nimue, Morgan—I can’t get enough of any of them.
Speaking of the setting, I really enjoyed how the historical aspect is handled here. Arthur’s all too brief reign and its immediate aftermath are slotted rather neatly into the time right after the Romans’ withdrawal from Britain—or, should I say, into a slightly alternate version of it. The parts related to the post-colonialism, the numerous adjustments, and the ongoing struggle between Christianity and pagan beliefs feel so spot-on that they make it easy to take multiple anachronisms in stride, from armor that doesn’t really fit the time period to Baghdad of the Islamic Golden Age being a place that already exists. All of this feels as genuinely appropriate for an Arthurian story as the faeries, magical islands, and mysterious curses. But still, the presence of a real sense of era, a specific time period that lends itself as a background for all the fiction, grounds the story and really helps promote the themes of grief, change, and moving on without quite letting go.
The plot itself is at times a little meandering, but in a way that I can actually get behind: there’s this sense of not knowing what to do, what to expect, if there’s an acceptable future at all, and it’s very in line with, again, the themes and the vibe of the book. At times, though, the structure is where the story suffers. Multiple times, especially in the first half of the book, there are these situations where a chapter ends on the kind of cliffhanger that makes you immediately abandon all other plans and keep reading to find out what comes next. And then what comes next is a flashback. A really vital flashback that adds amazing depth to a character or several and uncovers important details about this version of the Arthurian mythos. A beautifully written one, even. Goes on for miles and miles, while you sit there being all, “That’s cool, but what about the aftermath of the cliffhanger?” Or that’s very much how I sat there, at any rate. If I were reading this book with my eyeballs, I would probably moreo r less skim those flashback chapters in my hurry to get to the “what’s next” part, and that would be a pity, because they’re so good! But so unfortunately placed. It’s like inserting a whole different paragraph mid-sentence.
All in all, I’d describe this as a fictionalized exploration of a specific time period, and a contemplation of certain timeless issues through historical fantasy lens, and a bunch of character studies, all rolled into one. Slow, thorough, sometimes a bit muddled, but ultimately engrossing.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Misogyny, Sexual assault, Transphobia, Violence, Blood, Religious bigotry, Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Bullying, Child abuse, Homophobia, Rape, Death of parent, War
Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik
I really, really loved the first 20% of the book or so, while the narrative was largely focused on the small Polish village, the two young women surviving in it in the best ways they knew how, and their families. The characters all had very clear arcs and well-rounded personalities from the get go, and it was easy to get where they were coming from and to what end, even when the specific actions they took didn’t sit very well with me. I was fascinated by the cold, sharp edges Miryem had to develop to ensure her family’s survival and admired Wanda’s quiet, relentless strength as she worked toward a future that would hopefully one day set her free of her abusive father. I also really liked how the presence of mysticism and the Staryk (fairy-like mystical creatures) was handled in this early part. It felt more like magical realism than fantasy. And the vibes all around were immaculate: kind of the inversion of cozy fantasy. The same focus on a community getting by amidst a wintry landscape, except it’s all about the darkness lurking behind the apparent quaintness.
I would have very much loved it if the whole book stayed like that: smaller-scale, comparatively low-stakes, character-driven, showing the horrors and the magic in the mundane and exploring this historical setting with a touch of magic. I feel like it went on in that vein long enough, to be honest, to turn into a promise—but then that promise wasn’t upheld. Because the Staryk became far more present, and a deal with them turned into a marriage contract, and then we got a brand-new narrator, Irina, and her storyline about getting married to the tsar, and the number of characters just kept growing from there. And the newer ones didn’t get the same slow, thoughtful introduction as the first batch did, so everything felt vaguely unbalanced.
Overall, I’d call structure this book’s biggest weakness. While all the different storylines were undeniably connected from the start, in terms of both plotting and theme, and they did eventually coalesce, there were big chunks of book that were just… all over the place. Just moving from one part of the narrative to the next with some really strange structural decisions, like the story wasn’t able to decide which subgenre/mood it wants to stick to. Each plot thread individually contains lots of goodness, great characters, interesting magic, strong themes. The prose is beautiful and immersive. But alas, past the beginning and before the last several chapters, none of it quite comes together.
What I unequivocally adored were the characters’ voices. The book is written in first person and frequently switches POV characters, often introducing new ones literally mid-chapter. I thought I’d be confused at least once because of this, but no, every time there was a switch, I either very clearly knew whos head I was in, if it was someone I’ve already met, or just as clearly realized this was someone new even before any names and such were mentioned. I’m honestly stunned by how distinct the voices are.
I also must say that, despite the structural laxity, I really appreciated the thematic cohesiveness. The way all the girls’ relationships with their mothers were explored in ways that played off each other, or the contrasts and comparisons between Miryem’s and Irina’s marriages, and more. I also just generally loved what the author did with the Slavic/Eastern European mythology and history. Overall, I’ve had a really good tiime with the book, I just wish the story was more consistently told.
dark
emotional
hopeful
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
So the fairy silver brought you a monster of fire for a husband, and me a monster of ice. We should put them in a room together and let them make us both widows.
I really, really loved the first 20% of the book or so, while the narrative was largely focused on the small Polish village, the two young women surviving in it in the best ways they knew how, and their families. The characters all had very clear arcs and well-rounded personalities from the get go, and it was easy to get where they were coming from and to what end, even when the specific actions they took didn’t sit very well with me. I was fascinated by the cold, sharp edges Miryem had to develop to ensure her family’s survival and admired Wanda’s quiet, relentless strength as she worked toward a future that would hopefully one day set her free of her abusive father. I also really liked how the presence of mysticism and the Staryk (fairy-like mystical creatures) was handled in this early part. It felt more like magical realism than fantasy. And the vibes all around were immaculate: kind of the inversion of cozy fantasy. The same focus on a community getting by amidst a wintry landscape, except it’s all about the darkness lurking behind the apparent quaintness.
I would have very much loved it if the whole book stayed like that: smaller-scale, comparatively low-stakes, character-driven, showing the horrors and the magic in the mundane and exploring this historical setting with a touch of magic. I feel like it went on in that vein long enough, to be honest, to turn into a promise—but then that promise wasn’t upheld. Because the Staryk became far more present, and a deal with them turned into a marriage contract, and then we got a brand-new narrator, Irina, and her storyline about getting married to the tsar, and the number of characters just kept growing from there. And the newer ones didn’t get the same slow, thoughtful introduction as the first batch did, so everything felt vaguely unbalanced.
Overall, I’d call structure this book’s biggest weakness. While all the different storylines were undeniably connected from the start, in terms of both plotting and theme, and they did eventually coalesce, there were big chunks of book that were just… all over the place. Just moving from one part of the narrative to the next with some really strange structural decisions, like the story wasn’t able to decide which subgenre/mood it wants to stick to. Each plot thread individually contains lots of goodness, great characters, interesting magic, strong themes. The prose is beautiful and immersive. But alas, past the beginning and before the last several chapters, none of it quite comes together.
What I unequivocally adored were the characters’ voices. The book is written in first person and frequently switches POV characters, often introducing new ones literally mid-chapter. I thought I’d be confused at least once because of this, but no, every time there was a switch, I either very clearly knew whos head I was in, if it was someone I’ve already met, or just as clearly realized this was someone new even before any names and such were mentioned. I’m honestly stunned by how distinct the voices are.
I also must say that, despite the structural laxity, I really appreciated the thematic cohesiveness. The way all the girls’ relationships with their mothers were explored in ways that played off each other, or the contrasts and comparisons between Miryem’s and Irina’s marriages, and more. I also just generally loved what the author did with the Slavic/Eastern European mythology and history. Overall, I’ve had a really good tiime with the book, I just wish the story was more consistently told.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcoholism, Child abuse, Domestic abuse, Misogyny, Physical abuse, Antisemitism, Death of parent
You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian
We Could Be So Good was among my absolute favoritest reads last year, so needless to say, I was pretty damn excited for the sequel. In many ways, my high expectations paid off. This story is, once again, incredibly well-crafted, with evocative prose, clear character voices, deep characterization, relatable themes, and a good sense of setting/time period. My one big grip with it is, I just couldn’t connect with one of the two MCs, Eddie. I sympathized with the baseball slump he was in and the loneliness he was experiencing. I would absolutely call him a well-rounded character. But I just couldn’t get invested in him properly. There was a spark missing. And that, of course, means that it was pretty hard to get invested in the book’s main plot, too, given that it’s a romance. Oops.
I’m not 100% sure what went wrong here; in big part, I think it’s just that thing that happens sometimes. You just don’t vibe with the character, even if they seem cool and interesting, just like sometimes you just don’t vibe with actual people. But as I poke at this, I think it’s also, a tiny bit, the fault of the book itself. It’s generally slow-paced, but Eddie’s part is, at times, moving at a glacial pace, especially the parts that have to do with his relationship with his team and his baseball career in general. And that big slow part just isn’t too interesting. Nothing much ever happens. His teammates aren’t too likable. I think maybe if I was a huge baseball fan, or better yet if I simply *did* vibe with Eddie, I would’ve been okay with focusing on the “character study” parts of it all and enjoying the ride. As it was, I yawned a lot.
On the other hand, Mark’s part of the book was fire, and not a single line in his chapters left me indifferent. I loved every part of his arc: his grief and how he deals with it; his relationship with his queerness and his staunch desire to not lie about who he is; the way he isn’t naturally nice, but he hoards kindness and distributes it where it needs to be; the found family thing he’s got with the characters we know from the previous book (side note: I was SO happy to see them! I just wish there was more Nick!); the friendship he develops with George; the specific ways writing and reading matter to him. My lukewarm feelings for Eddie aside, it made so much sense that Mark started inching toward falling for him by writing about him.
Something I appreciated a lot: just like the first book in the series, this one’s got a grumpy/sunshine dynamic. But! It’s an *entirely* different grumpy/sunshine dynamic. Mark and Eddie, both apart and together, have rather little in common with Nick and Andy. Their individual drives, their chemistry, and their conflicts, inner and interpersonal alike, come from completely different places. This just goes to show how uniquely familiar tropes can be executed, even when it’s done by the same author within the same series.
Also, this novel is definitely a masterclass in showing so much deep characterization through utterly mundane actions, like shopping, dog walking, reading books and talking about them, eating at restaurants, etc. Those completely slice-of life bits were often my favorite.
emotional
hopeful
reflective
slow-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
4.5
I don’t know how it’ll work, and I don’t have a plan, but what I do know is that I want to do it anyway.
We Could Be So Good was among my absolute favoritest reads last year, so needless to say, I was pretty damn excited for the sequel. In many ways, my high expectations paid off. This story is, once again, incredibly well-crafted, with evocative prose, clear character voices, deep characterization, relatable themes, and a good sense of setting/time period. My one big grip with it is, I just couldn’t connect with one of the two MCs, Eddie. I sympathized with the baseball slump he was in and the loneliness he was experiencing. I would absolutely call him a well-rounded character. But I just couldn’t get invested in him properly. There was a spark missing. And that, of course, means that it was pretty hard to get invested in the book’s main plot, too, given that it’s a romance. Oops.
I’m not 100% sure what went wrong here; in big part, I think it’s just that thing that happens sometimes. You just don’t vibe with the character, even if they seem cool and interesting, just like sometimes you just don’t vibe with actual people. But as I poke at this, I think it’s also, a tiny bit, the fault of the book itself. It’s generally slow-paced, but Eddie’s part is, at times, moving at a glacial pace, especially the parts that have to do with his relationship with his team and his baseball career in general. And that big slow part just isn’t too interesting. Nothing much ever happens. His teammates aren’t too likable. I think maybe if I was a huge baseball fan, or better yet if I simply *did* vibe with Eddie, I would’ve been okay with focusing on the “character study” parts of it all and enjoying the ride. As it was, I yawned a lot.
On the other hand, Mark’s part of the book was fire, and not a single line in his chapters left me indifferent. I loved every part of his arc: his grief and how he deals with it; his relationship with his queerness and his staunch desire to not lie about who he is; the way he isn’t naturally nice, but he hoards kindness and distributes it where it needs to be; the found family thing he’s got with the characters we know from the previous book (side note: I was SO happy to see them! I just wish there was more Nick!); the friendship he develops with George; the specific ways writing and reading matter to him. My lukewarm feelings for Eddie aside, it made so much sense that Mark started inching toward falling for him by writing about him.
Something I appreciated a lot: just like the first book in the series, this one’s got a grumpy/sunshine dynamic. But! It’s an *entirely* different grumpy/sunshine dynamic. Mark and Eddie, both apart and together, have rather little in common with Nick and Andy. Their individual drives, their chemistry, and their conflicts, inner and interpersonal alike, come from completely different places. This just goes to show how uniquely familiar tropes can be executed, even when it’s done by the same author within the same series.
Also, this novel is definitely a masterclass in showing so much deep characterization through utterly mundane actions, like shopping, dog walking, reading books and talking about them, eating at restaurants, etc. Those completely slice-of life bits were often my favorite.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Homophobia, Grief
Moderate: Bullying, Death
Minor: Addiction, Medical content, Car accident, Alcohol
Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery
Anne of Green Gables was among the first books I’ve read in English, and I’ve been meaning to continue with the series for literal decades. Except somehow, every time I tried to do that, I started with rereading the first book and then promptly got distracted. So now I’ve made the impromptu decision to skip the reread and go straight for book 2, and finally, I’m one step farther! 😅
In many ways, I found the second book just as charming as the first. I think L.M. Montgomery’s writing truly shines when it comes to creating a sense of place, both in terms of describing the setting and populating it with quirky, colorful personalities. I enjoyed meeting familiar faces again, like Mrs. Rachel Lynde, and getting to know new awesome fictional people, like Mr. Harrison and Miss Lavender. The book is honestly so cozy, with most things working out for the better, and bad things always being survivable, and people finding understanding again and again, even when they’re off to a rocky start. Exactly the vibe I was after.
In terms of weaknesses, I feel like there wasn’t enough school. There was this big build-up to Anne starting off as a teacher in the school she used to attend, at just sixteen, and pretty much an entire chapter early on focused on her working up her courage to get through her first day in this new role, and then she could barely process that day immediately afterward. It all felt like this job was going to be a really big focus on the book. But while the storyline was surely present throughout, I feel it took a backseat to many others and Anne overall spent more time just hanging out with her friends and other locals, plus helping take care of the twins Marilla takes in.
Speaking of the twins, I wasn’t a fan of how both Anne and Marilla openly favored Davy, the problem kid, over the quiet, obedient Dora. I get how the kid prone to acting out needs more attention, but it shouldn’t come at the expanse of the other sibling. It felt like Dora was getting punished for being too good, and the only time a scene truly focused on her was when she was crying and uncharacteristically refusing to go to sleep. Overall, she just got so little development compared to her brother who was present so often, he was kind of getting obnoxious. Way to make me feel bad for a character both in terms of how she was treated by others within the narrative and how the author treated her!
Outside of that, though, I actually really, really loved seeing the daily life in Green Gables, the interactions between Anne and Marilla, the relationship they’ve developed. Their interactions were so enjoyable and sincere, and they’ve come such a long way from those early days! Matthew’s absence is definitely felt throughout the book, but it’s less of a gaping, unfillable hole I feared it would be. I also really loved the small interactions Marilla had with Diane, and that time all three of them joined forces in the kitchen (I still giggle remembering that scene).
Anne herself was somehow more… mellow? mild? then I expected her to be: still eternally optimistic and focused on seeing the beauty on the world, but without those sharper edges that kept getting her in trouble. I feel like she’s matured a lot faster than I’d expect her to, but then again, she lives in a time and place where it’s normal to become a teacher at sixteen, so it’s more than possible I’m imposing my modern sensibilities on her. She was still very much recognizable, very much Anne, and very much made me smile even when I was having shitty days. So thanks for that.
emotional
hopeful
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Mrs. Lynde was complaining the other day that it wasn’t much of a world. She said whenever you looked forward to anything pleasant you were sure to be more or less disappointed…that nothing came up to your expectations. Well, perhaps that is true. But there is a good side to it too. The bad things don’t always come up to your expectations either…they nearly always turn out ever so much better than you think.
Anne of Green Gables was among the first books I’ve read in English, and I’ve been meaning to continue with the series for literal decades. Except somehow, every time I tried to do that, I started with rereading the first book and then promptly got distracted. So now I’ve made the impromptu decision to skip the reread and go straight for book 2, and finally, I’m one step farther! 😅
In many ways, I found the second book just as charming as the first. I think L.M. Montgomery’s writing truly shines when it comes to creating a sense of place, both in terms of describing the setting and populating it with quirky, colorful personalities. I enjoyed meeting familiar faces again, like Mrs. Rachel Lynde, and getting to know new awesome fictional people, like Mr. Harrison and Miss Lavender. The book is honestly so cozy, with most things working out for the better, and bad things always being survivable, and people finding understanding again and again, even when they’re off to a rocky start. Exactly the vibe I was after.
In terms of weaknesses, I feel like there wasn’t enough school. There was this big build-up to Anne starting off as a teacher in the school she used to attend, at just sixteen, and pretty much an entire chapter early on focused on her working up her courage to get through her first day in this new role, and then she could barely process that day immediately afterward. It all felt like this job was going to be a really big focus on the book. But while the storyline was surely present throughout, I feel it took a backseat to many others and Anne overall spent more time just hanging out with her friends and other locals, plus helping take care of the twins Marilla takes in.
Speaking of the twins, I wasn’t a fan of how both Anne and Marilla openly favored Davy, the problem kid, over the quiet, obedient Dora. I get how the kid prone to acting out needs more attention, but it shouldn’t come at the expanse of the other sibling. It felt like Dora was getting punished for being too good, and the only time a scene truly focused on her was when she was crying and uncharacteristically refusing to go to sleep. Overall, she just got so little development compared to her brother who was present so often, he was kind of getting obnoxious. Way to make me feel bad for a character both in terms of how she was treated by others within the narrative and how the author treated her!
Outside of that, though, I actually really, really loved seeing the daily life in Green Gables, the interactions between Anne and Marilla, the relationship they’ve developed. Their interactions were so enjoyable and sincere, and they’ve come such a long way from those early days! Matthew’s absence is definitely felt throughout the book, but it’s less of a gaping, unfillable hole I feared it would be. I also really loved the small interactions Marilla had with Diane, and that time all three of them joined forces in the kitchen (I still giggle remembering that scene).
Anne herself was somehow more… mellow? mild? then I expected her to be: still eternally optimistic and focused on seeing the beauty on the world, but without those sharper edges that kept getting her in trouble. I feel like she’s matured a lot faster than I’d expect her to, but then again, she lives in a time and place where it’s normal to become a teacher at sixteen, so it’s more than possible I’m imposing my modern sensibilities on her. She was still very much recognizable, very much Anne, and very much made me smile even when I was having shitty days. So thanks for that.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Death of parent
Minor: Animal death, Bullying
Dragon Scales by Sasha L. Miller
A fun, whimsical short romance where a faerie starts off trying to capture a dragon and ends up helping him, though not before some initial tension. Or, rather, they actually end up helping each other. There is a bit of a fairy-tale feel here, with plenty of endearing details about magic, the characters’ different forms (they’re both shifters,) etc. Despite the novella size’s constraints, the setting felt vibrant and rich, with that nice feeling like the story was only just scratching the surface.
The romance itself felt kind of rushed. I feel like the author missed the opportunity to set up some hooks early on for the future catching of feelings. Instead, the focus was on the sexual chemistry, which is cool and all, but I’m just more into the romantic attraction side of things. And it’s always tricky to set one up in a natural, realistic way in a story so short, I recognize that! I didn’t have my expectations set on a super fluid romantic arc, or anything. I just would have appreciated a little more digging into the feelings.
adventurous
emotional
funny
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Catching the dragon would net Amantea enough money to solve all his problems. The scales alone would earn him a king's bounty, and the horns would get him half that again, if he could figure out where to sell them.
Amantea tried to ignore the part where he'd have to eventually kill the dragon after it was trapped.
A fun, whimsical short romance where a faerie starts off trying to capture a dragon and ends up helping him, though not before some initial tension. Or, rather, they actually end up helping each other. There is a bit of a fairy-tale feel here, with plenty of endearing details about magic, the characters’ different forms (they’re both shifters,) etc. Despite the novella size’s constraints, the setting felt vibrant and rich, with that nice feeling like the story was only just scratching the surface.
The romance itself felt kind of rushed. I feel like the author missed the opportunity to set up some hooks early on for the future catching of feelings. Instead, the focus was on the sexual chemistry, which is cool and all, but I’m just more into the romantic attraction side of things. And it’s always tricky to set one up in a natural, realistic way in a story so short, I recognize that! I didn’t have my expectations set on a super fluid romantic arc, or anything. I just would have appreciated a little more digging into the feelings.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Confinement