This book would have been a lot more appealing if it leaned fully into the whimsy (the likes of Pratchett or Gaiman, based on the tone) that it was trying to emulate, rather than becoming as preachy as it did.

It would have worked as magical realism, it would have worked as full on fantasy. It doesn't, however, work as a watered down, metaphorical "Sixties Scoop" narrative, which the writer admitted it to be in a recent interview. That aspect of the story put an awful taste in my mouth and I can't get rid of it no matter how many sappy gay plotpoints Klune throws at me. 

If you're going to base a story like this on a horrific real life event, a cultural genocide, you can't tie it up in a nice little bow at the end and give it a trauma-free conclusion. Either don't stray into that at all or take your subject matter seriously.

Had it not been for that, I would have found it a lot more appealing. Older queer narratives, and found family stories, are some of my favourites, so it's hard to rate this one as low as I did. 

I enjoyed the story itself, and would have given it a higher rating, had the characters not felt so flat. I loved them as a group, and found them to be interesting collectively, but none of them stood out as individuals. Something said by one of them could easily have been said by another, and at times I found myself forgetting who was who. 

Aside from that, and the fact that it feels very like "The Secret History 2: Thespian Boogaloo", it's an intriguing and enjoyable read. If you liked The Secret History, and wished for a slightly more hopeful ending when you read it, you might like this book.

I enjoyed the setting and overall premise, even if the language was a bit too floral and I could see the twist from a mile away. 

The worldbuilding and characters redeemed this book for me - I want to hear more about Fatma's adventures. She's a very likeable character, and deals with the circumstances in a very realistic/relatable way. I'd also love to see more stories set in the steampunk version or Cairo depicted here; I adore a a steampunk setting that isn't England, and Clark didn't disappoint.

I need to re-listen to this book to properly grasp it, because it's written in an exceptionally clever, but overly abstract way sometimes. 

Still, time-bending queer lovestory? Sign me up.

OH MY GOD, IF ONLY THIS BOOK WAS LONGER.

What I would give for another gritty film noir PI, with all of the smoking and self deprecation and murder mystery solving, but also a lesbian! Or, more time with this one. Give me a queer protag and I'll get into any genre! 

This book made me feel smart. It gave away just enough info where all of the solutions to this murder puzzle clicked for me at the same time as they did for the protagonist, neither hand-hold-y, nor confusing, and extremely satisfying throughout. 

I love the world building, how fleshed-out it felt despite the length of the book. I've said it before when reviewing Sarah Gailey's "River of Teeth": give a nonbinary author cliches to write, and I'll happily fall for them every time. I guess we're just that good. First person narration, which I normally don't like as much, immersed me wholely in the setting; the "I can be your angle or yuor devil" (I'm referencing the meme, yes) plot didn't feel contrived or overdone; and while the pacing rushed ahead at speeds I often had to rewind the audiobook to keep up with, I still got the gist in the end. 

Wlw who are 28+ (no YA lit for me, thank you) feel like a rare find in fantasy/magical realism fiction, and well-written, established wlw are even rarer. What Helen and Edith had was wonderful, and the ending did make me predictably, embarrassingly emotional. 

This book made me deeply uncomfortable, sad, furious, exhausted. It takes a lot of skill for an author to evoke that much in a reader all at once. I like how raw and honest the portrayal of Frida's ordeal was, and how processing grief and one's own mistakes is presented as a non-linear, messy process. 

Frida isn't a likeable character. She's convinced us of it on page one, and she's convinced herself of it long before. As someone whose mother made mistakes she deeply regrets, and as someone who has had many conversations with her about what those mistakes did to both of us, I genuinely feel for Frida. I've seen other reviews condemn her, and it's really interesting to me where a reader would draw the line on what they find unacceptable in a parent, and how much they're willing to dehumanise a mother/discredit her emotional needs, when they learn the mother has made a mistake that caused her child harm. I'm not trying to excuse abuse, it's just fascinating how quickly someone's empathy for a person, and their sense of nuance, disappears when the person in the wrong is a parent. I mean, people are rating the book lower because the protagonist has done something wrong and that makes the book supposedly bad. The point is right there, guys, come on...

The way blame is placed in the book is interesting to me, too - how the women are treated as irredeemable, and how the state would rather interfere once harm has been caused (and arguably proceed to traumatise the child even more) than offer parents mental health support before mistakes like this can occur. It's infuriating to experience and to process, and when the fathers were introduced, I became so much angrier knowing how much easier they supposedly have it. 

The ending is tragic and inevitable. I don't know how else Chan could have ended this book. Frida's unravelling is addicting, and sad, and I couldn't look away the whole time.

Not a fan of poetry or self help (read it for a reading challenge), but it's nice to get a Slavic take on an agony aunt. 

This book had been hyped up for me and based on that, I expected to like it a lot more than I did. I feel like a lot more could have been done with the premise and setting, and many aspects of the story fell very flat for me. 

Noemi isn't as one dimensional as her cousin Catalina, but she doesn't feel as fleshed out as she could have been. She's not vapid or shallow per-se, but the way she reacts to the (batshit insane, and in theory - horrifying) things happening around her is... underwhelming. My love for pathetic sickly men kept me rooting for Francis, but otherwise - the antagonists were predictable, Noemi was predictable, and the ending was kind of rushed? Lots of telling (rather than showing) going on too, and the main conflict/villain/clues towards what was going on, was revealed to Noemi through dreams, which is cheap. 

I genuinely wish I liked that more than I did. It sounded so up my alley, I'm gutted.