AAAAAAAAAA 

I mean, it's a genre staple for a reason. The twists are unexpected (as it should be in sci-fi, to be honest, because the world doesn't bend to traditional rules a lot of the time), the sense of direness and hopelessness truly permeates every page, and the social commentary isn't as hamfisted as some early sci-fi works.

I was recommended the Dresden Files series by a friend and told that it "gets better" - I'll take her word for it and read the rest, even if this first one wasn't (entirely) a hit with me.

The protagonist's sardonic narration in times of crisis took me out of some of the action, and his chauvinism definitely grated, but these are staples of the noir genre and I feel like the author is making an (albeit hamfisted) attempt at satire, here. It was funny how many times Harry brought up people's legs - whether women's, for hetero reasons, or his own (we get it, Dresden, you're very tall). Even still, the mystery was well-crafted, the worldbuilding and magic was something I couldn't get enough of, and I'm excited to see where the series goes next, because this was a solid first book.

Absolutely beautiful prose. To use a character with synaesthesia as the narrator was genius of the author - the descriptions become so vivid and rich with the addition of color, and I like that it plays an important part in the story.

In regards to the story-within-a-story aspect, I wish more had been done with it. It feels largely irrelevant, even if it isn't - it's just that the role that Rawiya's story plays in the main one doesn't live up to its potential.

I'm soft for these characters, I don't know what it is about them.

The whimsical, fairyfale feel continues from the first novella into this one, and if anything, it becomes even more whimsical. This book builds on the last one in the best way. 

Silver is so painfully relatable. What a horrible little immortal! And Tobias and his principles, chef's kiss. 

As other reviews have pointed out, though, the ending feels too "neat", almost? Too happy in any case, especially with how much "spookier" it is than the first book. But who am I to say no to a queer love story that ends happily?

This book is too dang short!!! I really enjoyed what worldbuilding there was, I love folklore relating to sentient forests, I just wish there had been more.

The romance is a little sappy and a little strange, but still very wholesome. I too would fall in love with an ancient not-quite-human-any-more forest person.

I'm not the biggest fan of short stories, but I love Jemisin's novels, so when this book was a good match for a prompt in a reading challenge, I thought I'd give it a shot.

All in all, an interesting collection exploring dystopian narratives, afrofuturism, and humanity (both on an individual and a global scale). A few of these were misses for me (I'm sure the profundity went right over my head) but many were definite hits. 

I listened to the audiobook over the course of a workday, and enjoyed it overall. 

Keiko Furukara is as loveable as she is odd; I relate to her on some levels and absolutely sympathise with her attempts to fit in. The book itself doesn't shame or ostracise her - something I find happens a lot in books that center neuroatypically-coded characters. Instead, it comments on the societal response to people like her, in a way I found quite poignant. 

The length of the book worked well, even if the pacing got quite fast (almost unpredictably so) at times - it's a short, self contained story about a woman's recognition and acceptance of her differences from other people. 

This book is intended for a young adult audience, but (as someone who doesn't really like YA) I still enjoyed it thoroughly. Teen romance isn't normally up my alley either, but this book is so much more than that. 

Lily's story will resonate with any queer immigrant that's ever had to come out to their family. It'll resonate with those of us that have ever felt closeted, or ostracised, or "guilty of" our queerness, and it's an honest, unashamed portrayal thereof. 

I've read books I liked more this year, and I've read books I've felt more drawn in by, but there was still something about Last Night At The Telegraph Club that kept me engaged. It's well written (and narrated, in the case of the audiobook), the ending is realistic, and overall it's a great story that felt believable, because I know people it's happened to. The intersectionality in the book is well handled, and it's clear that Lo has done her due diligence with researching the time period through the lens of queer history. Overall - a really solid, intensely relatable read that had me on the edge of my seat at times.

I've read some pretty mediocre books described as "cozy fantasy", but (and maybe this is the DND player in me talking) I enjoyed this one decently, even if I have gripes with it on an intellectual level. The cozy genre isn't supposed to make you think, so I'm defying it by asking these questions - reading other reviews, people don't generally think about the stuff I think about. That's kind of what makes me hate the whole genre, really.

My gripes with it can best be summed up by this online review: https://www.superdoomedplanet.com/blog/2023/02/26/on-travis-baldrees-legends-and-lattes/

I couldn't phrase my issues with it better myself, and I don't want to bog down storygraph by outlining everything I think is wrong with it in equal detail. A few of them, though, include:

• Every relationship Viv has is transactional, resulting in a weird corporate found family where Viv is in a managerial role and has subordinates or colleagues, not actual friends.

• The production of coffee in real life, historically, relied on slave labor, and its procurement is not possible without oppression; this book never elaborates on how coffee is procured within its own worldbuilding, and I wonder why that is.

• The whole thing with The Madrigal, specifically Viv's disinterest in fighting back as soon as she herself manages to buy her off with cinnamon rolls, regardless of if The Madrigal's men have subjugated other business owners and continue doing so. Viv's supposed to have an honor code, is she not? In a book about community, American hyperindividualism on the part of the protagonist seems like a blind spot of the author's. I wonder what Baldree thinks community and unionization and found family actually look like.

There are more issues. So many more. Ultimately, while on the surface it is a sweet and low stakes read, it glosses over a lot of problems that the (white, American) reader isn't supposed to notice or care about. This treatment of the reader - "buy into this cozy world, it's ok for a book to not have anything substantial to say!" - is what I think I dislike most, in the end.

Still, it got me out of a long reading slump, and that's worth at least something.