dragoninwinterfell's Reviews (147)

The world building was very unique and interesting. Otherwise, the story and characters fell flat for me. 

Six Wild Crowns by Holly Race is a beautifu ly written five-star read that reimagines the Tudor court as a realm of dragons and sorcery, weaving real-world history into an immersive fantasy world. Race’s prose is at once lyrical and precise, drawing readers into a kingdom where the balance of power hinges on the coexistence of six queens, each of whom are vital to the king’s dominion.

Set in an alternate universe, the novel unfolds through the dual perspectives of Boleyn and Seymour (an inventive twist on Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour), whose lives become inextricably linked by courtly schemes. When King Henry’s first queen, Aragon, dispatches Seymour to spy upon and eliminate the up-and-coming Boleyn, a deadly game of political intrigue ignites. From clandestine alliances to magical storms, Race created a plot that never falters in pacing or payoff.

What truly elevates Six Wild Crowns is its vivid cast of queens and other femske characters. Aragon, Parr, Cleves, Blount, Howard, and Boleyn each presented distinct strengths, ambitions, and vulnerabilities. Race tackles the trope of women in competition with nuance, illustrating how their personal goals both bind and divide them. The result is a study of female relationships that feels authentic and resonant, unflinchingly honest about rivalries yet hopeful for solidarity.

Elements of Tudor history are seamlessly blended with fantastical world-building: dragons symbolize the volatile power, magic reflects the shifting loyalties of court, and historical figures’ true personalities - like Boleyn’s intelligence and generosity - shine through more accurately than in many traditional retellings. For fans of epic fantasy and historical drama alike, Six Wild Crowns delivers the best of both worlds. Think A Song of Ice and Fire meets The Tudors, with fresh depth and nuance.

Thank you to NetGalley and Hachette Audio for the audio ARC in exchange for an honest review.

The Adventures of Mary Darling is a brilliantly imaginative reworking of Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie, told through the eyes of a character often relegated to the background, Mary Darling, the mother of Wendy, John, and Michael. Pat Murphy brings her front and center, turning her into a rich, compelling protagonist whose story blends whimsy with sharp, subversive commentary.

What begins as an adult fairy tale soon deepens into something far more layered. Murphy infuses the narrative with real historical context, interweaving elements of feminism, colonial critique, and the experiences of Indigenous Americans with literary flair. The inclusion of Arthur Conan Doyle’s characters - Sherlock Holmes and John Watson - adds yet another surprising dimension, creating a genre-crossing adventure that feels both playful and profound.

Mary Darling herself is a standout. She's a mother, yes, but not a passive one. She drives the story, pushing against the limited roles expected of women in her era. Her journey is one of self-discovery, agency, and connection with other women from diverse backgrounds. Watching them collaborate and support one another is a powerful and refreshing theme throughout the book.

The prose is beautiful, the tone balanced between whimsy and emotional depth, and the characters feel fully realized, complex, flawed, and vibrant. This novel doesn't rely on nostalgia or stereotypes. Instead, it breathes new life into a familiar tale by exploring the unseen and unspoken beneath the surface.

Pat Murphy’s The Adventures of Mary Darling is a masterful example of how retellings can both honor and transform their source material. It’s thoughtful, beautifully written, and delightfully unexpected. A must-read for fans of literary reimaginings with something real to say.

Thank you to NetGalley and HighBridge Audio for the audio ARC in exchange for an honest review. 

The title of this book is misleading. I got 20% of the way through the book and centered more on Greek men than on Trojan women. While the prose was beautiful, it dragged, making even the attack at the very start dull. 

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women That a Movement Forgot by Mikki Kendall is an essential and groundbreaking examination of feminism that challenges traditional narratives and pushes for a more inclusive approach. Kendall’s work critiques not just the patriarchy but also the limitations of mainstream, often white-centered feminism that has historically marginalized the voices and needs of women of color and those from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds. 

Through a collection of insightful essays, Kendall explores how feminism is too often focused on the struggles of middle-class, white women while leaving behind women who face intersecting forms of oppression. She delves deeply into topics such as racism, poverty, education, custom, career, and motherhood, highlighting how these factors shape women’s experiences in ways that are often overlooked. Kendall's writing is both candid and thought-provoking, offering a lens through which we can better understand the complexities of feminism in the real world. 

What makes Hood Feminism so compelling is Kendall’s ability to weave personal narratives with social critique, making her arguments both deeply emotional and intellectually challenging. She questions the very definition of feminism, urging readers to consider how the movement can truly become inclusive and effective for all women, particularly those who are disenfranchised. The book is a call to action, encouraging us to rethink and reimagine what true feminism should look like, a perspective that is as diverse, inclusive, and multifaceted as the women it seeks to empower. 

For anyone interested in a feminist perspective that goes beyond the mainstream narrative, Hood Feminism offers a necessary and refreshing critique of a movement in need of reevaluation.

With The Cardinal, Alison Weir continues to expand her ambitious Tudor historical fiction series in ways that both surprise and enrich the larger narrative she’s been building. While I didn’t expect a novel centered on Thomas Wolsey to capture my interest, Weir’s storytelling once again proves she can take even the most polarizing historical figures and breathe vivid, human complexity into their stories.

What stands out most is how this novel reframes familiar Tudor events through the lens of someone who has often been sidelined or villainized in stories about Henry VIII and his queens. Seen from Wolsey’s perspective, we get a fresh and nuanced view of the politics, rivalries, and shifting loyalties that shaped the early Tudor court. It was especially engaging to revisit moments from The True Queen and other novels in the series—this time with context that challenges earlier interpretations.

While I don’t always agree with Weir’s historical interpretations, I respect her approach. She uses historical evidence as a foundation and builds thoughtful, plausible speculation around it. Her decision to explore Wolsey’s romantic relationship with Joan Larke, as well as his private pain over their children, added a layer of emotional complexity that made his ambition and contradictions feel real. He’s portrayed as proud, greedy, and deeply driven—but also generous, self-reflective, and unexpectedly vulnerable.

I particularly appreciated how the novel handled his relationship with Katherine of Aragon. In The True Queen, Katherine viewed Wolsey as one of her greatest adversaries, but The Cardinal reveals how that perception was shaped more by political necessity and misunderstanding than any actual betrayal. This mirrored a broader theme throughout the book: how everyone in Henry’s orbit blamed each other for their misfortunes, while rarely holding the king himself accountable. Even Wolsey ultimately views Anne Boleyn as the sole cause of his downfall, overlooking Henry’s own agency in the matter.

The novel also shines a light on the lives of lower-class individuals in Tudor England, giving texture and weight to a side of history that’s often overlooked in stories focused on royalty. This broader social scope grounds the novel and gives it a richness that complements the high-stakes political drama.

The Cardinal is another strong entry in Weir’s interconnected Tudor universe. It's thought-provoking, emotionally layered, and filled with sharp political insight. I’m more excited than ever to see what comes next—and still holding out hope for novels centered on Margaret Tudor and Mary Tudor, the French Queen.

Thank you to NetGalley and RBmedia for the audio ARC in exchange for an honest review.

One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig is a darkly atmospheric fantasy with a gorgeously crafted world and one of the most intriguing magic systems I’ve come across in a while. Set in a kingdom cursed by magic, the story follows a quest to collect ancient cards, each granting a unique ability, but always at a personal cost to the user. The card-based system is not only creative but seamlessly woven into the world’s politics, history, and stakes.

Gillig’s writing is richly descriptive, and the dark fairytale tone gives the entire novel a lush, eerie quality. The plot (centered on breaking a spell that causes magical sickness) is compelling, and the high-concept setup hooked me early. The pacing, mystery, and sense of danger are all well handled, making the story entertaining and often tense in a satisfying way.

However, while I admired the worldbuilding and was drawn into the premise, I struggled to connect with the characters. Their relationships, motivations, and emotional stakes never quite clicked for me. I often found myself thinking, “This moment should hit harder,” or, “I should care more about this dynamic,” but I didn’t. The character work felt distant, and as a result, even the most dramatic scenes didn’t leave much of an emotional impact.

Overall, One Dark Window is a beautifully imagined, thematically rich fantasy that delivers on setting and magic, but falters when it comes to emotional investment. If you're a reader who values immersive worldbuilding and unique magic systems over character-driven narratives, this may be a great fit.

Octavia E. Butler: H is for Horse is an excellent and unique exploration of the legendary author's unpublished early works. Chi-ming Yang does a fantastic job of delving into Butler's childhood and teen years, revealing how her love of horses intertwined with the development of her writing. The book offers a fascinating glimpse into Butler's early creative mind, showing how her youthful obsessions and experiences shaped the groundbreaking stories she would go on to write. The combination of unpublished writings and drawings makes this a must-read for fans of Butler's work and anyone interested in seeing the early influences of a literary genius.

Thank you to NetGalley and HighBridge Audio for this audio ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Passing by Nella Larsen is a quietly devastating, deeply nuanced novel that examines the complex intersections of race, class, identity, and belonging in 1920s America. Written during the Harlem Renaissance by a Black author intimately familiar with the themes she explores, this short but powerful novel still feels deeply relevant today.

The story follows Irene Redfield, an upper-class, mixed-race Black woman who can pass for white but chooses not to. When she reconnects with her childhood friend Clare Kendry, who is also mixed-race, but living her life as a white woman married to a racist man, Irene’s life starts to shift. Larsen’s prose is elegant and restrained, allowing the emotional and psychological tension to simmer just beneath the surface.

What makes Passing so brilliant is its subtlety. Larsen doesn’t rely on melodrama or explosive revelations. Instead, she builds unease through the smallest gestures, glances, and conversations. One particularly striking example is the scenes where Irene must endure polite conversation with Clare’s husband, a man who openly despises Black people while assuming Irene is white. The way Irene navigates these moments by hiding her fury while maintaining social decorum is both chilling and masterful.

The novel also examines the internalized effects of racism and colorism within Black communities. Irene’s mixed feelings toward Clare - admiration, jealousy, and fear - mirror the complicated emotions tied to visibility, safety, and personal freedom. As Clare re-enters Irene’s life, what begins as a seemingly civil reunion evolves into a slow-burning exploration of identity and resentment.

This is a character-driven, psychological work that kept me enthralled from beginning to end.

Behooved had a lot of potential, but ultimately didn’t quite deliver for me. Though marketed as an adult novel, the writing style often felt more appropriate for a young adult or even middle grade audience. There was a lot of telling rather than showing, with overexplained character emotions and plot developments that left little room for reader interpretation.

That said, there were some elements I appreciated. The setting, in a universe where gender equality and queernormativity are the norm, was refreshing and welcome. I also enjoyed the dynamic between the main couple—a strong, duty-focused woman with combat skills and a bookish, non-warrior man. The early setup of a slow-burn romance was promising and could have added depth to their relationship. Unfortunately, that slow burn was short-lived. The romance suddenly accelerated without enough development, making it feel unearned.

The magic system and broader world were intriguing, but the world-building felt rushed. Key elements were introduced and then quickly glossed over, giving the impression that shortcuts were taken to move the plot along.

Overall, while Behooved had some original and thoughtful ideas, the execution left me wanting more depth, consistency, and trust in the reader’s ability to follow the story without constant explanation.

Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio for the audio ARC in exchange for an honest review.