I've had this one on my radar for awhile, but the time was ripe when facing down a set of international flights. Nothing says "distract and entertain me on a long airplane journey" like a space opera with the cover tagline of "Kidnappers. Alien emperors. Psychic cats. And she's out of coffee." It was as solid a choice as it sounds. 

 

To continue from my previous "I'm behind" review...I remain behind. So. Another (mostly) borrowed synopsis from Goodreads: Captain Eva Innocente and the crew of La Sirena Negra cruise the galaxy delivering small cargo for even smaller profits. When her sister Mari is kidnapped by The Fridge, a shadowy syndicate that holds people hostage in cryostasis, Eva must undergo a series of unpleasant, dangerous missions to pay the ransom. But Eva may not make it long enough to raise the money. The ship’s hold is full of psychic cats, an amorous fish-faced emperor wants her dead after she rejects his advances, and her sweet engineer is giving her a pesky case of feelings. The worse things get, the more she lies, raising suspicions and testing the loyalty of her crew. To free her sister, Eva may have to risk everything: her crew, her ship, and the life she’s built on the ashes of her past misdeeds...and that's before she finds out that the threat is even greater than she imagined. 

 

This is going to be a short review, because this book is exactly as advertised. Nothing more *and* nothing less. The promised psychic cats, crime syndicate kidnappers, mysterious and shadowy secret missions, found family crew, ridiculously entitled alien emperors, sketchy pasts and a very sweet love story (especially hilarious for a character as prickly - perfectly so - as Eva) were all present and accounted for. Except the coffee, which I realize was promised *not* to be there, but was, in fact, conspicuously not mentioned. (Not a big deal, on the whole, but, you know, transparency, haha.) 

 

But seriously, if one can be serious in a review about such a ridiculous book, this was just plain hilarious and entertaining weird space drama. It was adventure after adventure at a nonstop pace and honestly such a fun reading experience, exactly the attention-keeping-without-requiring-too-much-effort book I needed for travel. There was some commentary on the military industrial complex and imperialistic power (as most scifi tends to have), btu done in a way that remained light and humorous, outrageous even...because this is space opera at its highest humor-level, and therefore not believable at all, but in the best way. I was able to ignore some of the world-building details that verged on the "too much/not quite explained well enough" because the details weren't really that important in the scheme of the bigger picture escapades. Sometimes, with more "serious" space operas like A Memory Called Empire and A Desolation Called Peace, those details are central and necessary and I want them. Here I didn't need it and that was ok with me. But if you get bogged down by that, do beware. 

 

Another small, but superfun, detail I liked included the chapter titles with twists on Star Wars names/quotes/situations. Fan service is a win for me in reading experiences like this, where the focus is on entertainment value. And I loved all the Spanish, so much, as per usual for me; the colloquialisms and sayings used really added a lot to Eva's (prickly) vibe and I was here for it.  

 

There's definitely a setup for a sequel/series and, while idk if I want/need more right now, I would not be opposed to picking up when the next need for this specific reading experience hits again. It hooked me more than enough to keep me interested for the next time I'm looking/ready. 

 

“The universe was full of that kind of stuff: beautiful, strange, and mostly forgotten.” 

 

“That was war for you, like a game of musical chairs where seats kept disappearing until only one was left, and people rarely stopped to ask who the hell was in charge of the music.” 

 

“She was only one person, but one person doing something was better than a whole lot of people doing nothing.” 

 

“This is barbaric. […] On the contrary, [...] It's civilized as fuck. Civilization is just bullshit." (what a commentary on “civilization” - phew) 

 

 

Y'all, I read my first book by Tia Willams, Seven Days in June, about two years ago now. And it made my favorites of the year list. So, when I saw the opportunity to request this newest book on NetGalley, let me tell you, I *jumped* on it. I was excited to read more from Williams, plus this one promised a little magic in it, and I am never one to turn that down. 

 

So, I'm super behind on reviews. In trying to catch up, I will be going the lazy synopsis route and giving you the good ol' (truncated) "copied and pasted from Goodreads" version. Thanks for your understanding, haha. Here's that: Ricki Wilde is the impulsive, artistic daughter of a powerful Atlanta dynasty, and quite the opposite of the rest of her family. She knows that somewhere, a different, more exciting life awaits her. So, when a regal nonagenarian, Ms. Della, invites her to rent the bottom floor of her Harlem brownstone, Ricki jumpsont it. She leaves behind her family, wealth, and chaotic romantic decisions to realize her dream of opening a flower shop. And just beneath the surface of her new neighborhood, the music, stories and dazzling drama of the Harlem Renaissance still simmers. One evening in February, Ricki encounters a handsome, deeply mysterious stranger (Ezra) who knocks her world off balance in the most unexpected way and together, once Ricki learns his big secret, they must overcome a curse that has stuck to him for a century. Set against the backdrops of both modern Harlem and Renaissance glamour, A Love Song for Ricki Wilde is a swoon-worthy love story of two passionate artists drawn to the magic, romance, and opportunity of New York, and whose lives are uniquely and irreversibly linked.  

 

Well, I didn;t love it as much as Seven Days, but tbh, that's a hella high bar and I wasn't really expecting to. So with that in mind, I loved this one for what it was! First, and foremost, these characters were phenomenal - fresh and interesting. A spunky former child actor, a Harlem Renaissance era pianist, a quirky YOLO-vibes grandmother figure, and, of course, our MC, a creative florist and burgeoning IG influencer. Bonus: a solid cameo from Eva Mercy from Seven Days and I was just feeling these characters. A lot of it was in the little details, like Ms. Della going out to community gatherings drinking from her own literal china teacup and the specificity of description in Ricki's bouquets and the room of historic music technology in Ezra's home and, for me, the little mention of study abroad in Seville (I did that!). They were just so alive and I loved them all. 

 

The world-building was also spectacular. Which sounds a bit ridiculous because this is a "real life" place and time (or places and times). But Williams really brought it to life: the setting was just as alive as the characters, holding its own against their strong presences. I don’t read much from the Harlem Renaissance time period, in any setting/population, so this was a nice way to add it in and mix it up without being overwhelmed by a time period that I’m just not normally drawn to. It’s always important to get a history refresher, especially from a perspective that isn’t ever taught in a fully fleshed-out way (we often nominally honor the Black jazz musicians and artists/poets of the time, but don’t ever reckon with the need or inspiration behind their work and community). And this was really accentuated by the parts from Ezra's perspectives...his world weariness (*minor spoiler*) due to the immortality meant he had seen and survived so much, especially as a Black man from the Jim Crow South and with a story starting in Harlem Renaissance/Jazz Age Harlem was written so well. A solid, telling, and fairly original, perspective, in that way. Finally, the way that Ricki begins leaving her extra bouquets around Harlem at historical spots, starting a major social media following with that, is so creative. And was a wonderful way to really tie the two time periods, but same location, together even more.   

 

The plot itself was entertaining and fun, but also romantic (and let me add here that I loved the chemistry between Ezra and Ricki). And while I saw the ending coming from pretty far away, I also appreciated the cyclical nature of it and the way it all came together smoothly, and magically! Plus, while I was a bit sleep deprived when I read the ending and maybe that played a part in my reaction, I was surprised at how emotional it still made me...even knowing what was going to happen. That's really solid writing, overall. A note on the writing here though. Potentially because this was an ARC, but there was something about the writing that felt a little less polished than I would have liked. There's a chance some of that was cleaned up before final publication, but it could have been smoother. 

 

Anyways, I'm usually a sucker for the fight for an epic love that actually looks like the everyday little moments; I love seeing my own love story reflected in those moments and always feel that it's such a gorgeous story to tell. And here, it was; it really was gorgeous. 

 

Another vacation with plane travel, another well-timed "off the waitlist" situation for the next book in this series. Romances (especially steamy ones) are just the perfect easy travel reading, and this one *did not* disappoint. 

 

The third book in this steamy romance Greek mythology retellings, Wicked Beauty departs from the family previously in focus (all of Demeter's daughters) and shifts to follow popular retelling favs Achilles and Patroclus, and everyone's favorite love-to-hate-her beauty-victim-villain, Helen. All three have entered a competition to become the next Ares, after the current Olympian holding that title dies. Achilles and Patroclus have been partners, in professional and personal life, for years already, and enter the competition as allies with much experience in battle and tactics and fighting. Helen enters to prove to the world that she is powerful in her own right, more than the predominant public view of her (and a bit to show up her brother, the new Zeus). She has been secretly training for this, but still comes in physically untested, though with quite a bit of knowledge about the inner workings and politics of Olympus. The sparks fly amongst the three of these competitors from the start, both the good kinds and the dangerous kinds. They may hit it off physically, and then even emotionally, but can they compromise through their opposing goals to find a future together?     

 

So, like I said, this one didn't disappoint. I mean, the first two were solid, and what I wanted, if nothing particularly special (IMO). But this one? This one got me. I've only read one other poly romance before (A Dowry of Blood), so I'm new to this sub-genre, but I'm thinking it's a winner for me, because I have *really* enjoyed both. Like, the dynamics of the relationships, in this case it was a throuple, are fascinating, and intertwine with each other in complex and nuanced ways. I love the way poly relationships demonstrate that different people can fill different needs, that one person doesn't have to be your everything, and the support and fulfillment and interplay coming from these relationships with more than two people are just so....full. Like, who wouldn't want more people to share intimacy and foundation with? There's just so much more love to share there! 

 

This was also, again IMO, absolutely the hottest of the series so far. Holy sh*t the sex scenes are long, prolific, detailed and steamy. I mean, the competition to become the next Ares gave a nice structure to the novel, a believable way for these three to be brought together, and a lovely source to bring (needed, for interest) conflict and drama to the story. And the action scenes added there were also entertaining. However, this was very much a "skim-read quickly through those parts to get back to these three together again" situation for me. Partly, honestly, because I was feeling the sex scenes. But also, for real, because I just loved the way they were with each other. Helen, Achilles and Patroclus each have their own strengths and weak spots, internally and externally, and the way the others protect and support and back down where needed in their own ways, and step up without prompting when they sense that’s what’s needed, filled my damn heart. I was so emotionally invested here. And that was really enhanced further by the fact that all three of their perspectives got a voice. I loved that. 

 

There is nothing deep about this novel, but it was entertaining and smoothly written and super steamy - exactly what I was looking for. There is so much completion (pun intended, but also for realsies) in this throuple and it’s too perfect. Robert hit something just right with this third book, and it's far and away my favorite of the series so far, and perhaps one of my fav erotica-leaning romances ever, tbh. 

 

"Vengeance isn’t for the victims. It’s to make the people around them feel better for not doing anything to stop it in the first place." 

 

"Maybe there’s room for both, for us each meeting a different need because of how different we are." 

 

"I like the thorns. What use is a defenseless flower except to shove in a vase and let wither until its once-beautiful petals fall off?" 

 

 

There's very little about a book blurb along the lines of "a group of women secretly helping each other kill off their terrible husbands" that doesn't appeal to me. I mean, I don't usually go for thrillers, but that description led me to believe it wouldn't be the traditional "keeps me awake at night" kind of intense that usually makes me steer clear of the genre. So, here we are. 

 

Five years ago, Geeta's husband disappeared. Rumors abound that she killed him, despite all Geeta's assurances to the contrary. Sometimes, those rumors are convenient...people tend to leave her alone, no one threatening or attempting to control her.  And it seems that other women have noticed. When a woman in Geeta's micro-loan group approaches her and asks for help getting rid of her own husband, Geeta finds herself helping (against her better judgement and intentions). And things escalate from there, until Geeta finds herself as both legitimate accomplice and murderer, embroiled in the middle of an illegal liquor business/local gangster fiasco, facing the surprise return of a perhaps-not-as-contrite-as-he-acts husband, and fighting to protect the life of freedom that she worked so hard to build.  

 

This book brings it, from the beginning, with the drama and the gossip (small town/village vibes, I see you) and the heavy sarcasm about being a woman, a wife, and the “joys of motherhood.” I really cannot count the number of times that I snort-laughed at it all. It's all quite salacious. And that feeds so smoothly into the first requests that Geeta receives from fellow women, asking for help removing their own no-good husbands from their lives. It's funny and ridiculous and entertaining until...it's not quite, anymore. And the thing is, I can't tell as what point that is, or when the turn happens exactly, but at some point, the hilarity of "bad husbands" turns into very real bad husbands, those who physically and emotionally abuse their wives, rape other women, sexually abuse children, and more. And the juxtaposition was pretty jarring for me. While I understand conceptually dark/gallows humor, and have loved books with it before, the way this novel develops, I found myself feeling kind of guilty for finding some of the drama/interactions funny, in the context of those types of abuse/transgressions. It's a fine line to be walked, and I think that that discomfort means Shroff might have actually walked it really well. But still, it wasn't always a comfortable reading experience as I tried to parse and justify my emotional responses. (Reading the Author's Note afterwards did give me a bit of clarity and grace, on that front, which I do want to mention, for transparency.) 

 

Similarly, somewhere in the first half, I made this note while reading: "It feels fairly surface level, but there is an interrogation of caste and gender and the intersectionality of those as justifications for mistreatment (in this case primarily violence against women) that is an important one to recognize and call out." And it began in that surface level way, for sure. But again, as the novel progressed, that exploration got deeper and a bit more nuanced, though considering the type of story being told, with a little bit of satire and a heavy grounding in the exaggerated drama of this women's group, it was limited in the extent to which it could reach. (Similar to above, there was some insight into Shroff's goals on this front in the Author's Note at the end as well - ones that are thematically in line with some of the intent in The Immortal King Rao, though the genres are quite different). Though I will say, it was quite satisfying to me as a reader, if not an actual fix, to see these “invisible" women - these mothers and wives - use that invisibility to their advantage in getting away with murder (as it were, lolz).  

 

I definitely want to point out a few content warnings. Obviously the violence against women (sexual, physical, emotional, verbal...all of it really) was intense and pervasive. The cycle of abusive relationships - interpersonally and as wrapped up with social standards and expectations - was central to the plot. It was fully and fairly examined, but it was ubiquitous and readers should be aware of that. And there was quite a bit of fat shaming throughout as well. Perhaps that's culturally accurate, but it was still a lot. 

 

Shroff created something really unique here. She presents the danger in questioning masculinity, and the belittling of woman that goes hand-in-hand with that, with an unflinching gaze. At the same time, she declares, in no uncertain terms, that what a person does to survive, and what surviving makes them into, is never something to apologize for. And that's a message I can get behind wholeheartedly. So, basically... This was the strangest mix of hilarity - humorous blackmailing and extortion and murder planning and bumbling gangsters - and very important social messaging and awareness on some heavy AF topics. I both appreciated the entertainment and the complexity of the relationships the women had with each other (which were allowed to be supportive and ugly/flawed in equal, and realistic, turns) and was conflicted by it all. A very singular reading experience.  

 

“Her grapes, whether sour or fair, were her grapes.” 

 

“Bystanders shoulder their own blame.” 

 

“But I think that she was capable of anything because everything had already happened to her. [...] She was fearless because she'd already suffered what the rest of us live in fear of.” 

 

“…just another example of women living within the spaces that others defined.” 

 

“It wasn’t [...] so much that women loved their husbands and couldn't live without them. It was that the outside world made life without them utter shit; you needed a man in the house in order to be left in peace. They didn't really do much, but their simple pulse was a form of protection. Like pimps.” 

 

"We're happy to be accessories. Like jewelry, but way more dangerous..." 

 

This was an "impulse seasonal grab" book - it was returned at the library while I was handling checking books back in anddddddd, I turned around and checked it right back out to myself. As you know, I can't say no to a vampire-related story/show. But, I was expecting a super cheesy, kind of silly, but hopefully page-turningly [guilty] pleasure entertainment read. And while it was all of that (in all the good ways those things can be taken), I was surprised by how legitimately good this book was. 

 

Cassie Greenberg is cobbling together an income with a few part time positions as she searches for opportunities to make a full living with her art. As she is on the edge of eviction, she finds a "roommate needed" listing for a literally unbelievably affordable apartment in a gorgeous Chicago neighborhood. Like, the deal is so good that Cassie figures there has to be a catch, but she's running out of options. Her new roommate, Frederick J. Fitzwilliam, is definitely a little strange. He sleeps all day and stays out all night. He dresses and talks like he's living some sort of historical cosplay. And he leaves adorable notes for Cassie around the apartment, appreciates her art, and cares more about her interests and life than she's experienced from anyone in a long time. Plus, he's super attractive. The catch: he's a vampire. So now Cassie has to make some decisions: Can she trust him? Can she continue to live with him? Can she agree to the proposition he has? And how bad of an idea would it be, really, to give in to the attraction that is growing between them?   

 

Alright y'all. Like I said, this book was surprisingly objectively good. Like, the story development felt pretty real (yes, I know vampires are fictional, thank you very much). I was bought into the premise in a way that, while obviously a story, also felt like a very easy suspension of disbelief. The setup - Frederick's need for a roommate and Cassie's acceptance of his proposition on that front - felt natural to buy into. And I bought into it. Also, the writing was really solid. Nothing flashy or groundbreaking, but smooth and compelling, with realistic dialogue and relatable character interactions and decisions. So yea, that all really surprised me. 

 

As far as Cassie and Frederick's relationship goes, the first note I jotted down while reading was, and I quote, "OMG this is utterly and completely charming AF." And that remained true for the duration. They were flipping adorable together. And Frederick, specifically, was so dang earnest, unfailingly. (A specific note here: the whole little section after Frederick reveals his secret ability - which, no spoilers but LOL how silly adorbs - just melted me. I cannot.) And while that's not always a romance vibe I want, it worked so perfectly here. Because, I'd also like to ask how can a book with a lead this endearing can also have this level of steam coming out of the tension build? The slow-build sexual tension was devastatingly good. And then the actual steamy parts themselves (though limited) were worth the wait. Then, just speaking to the rest of the relationship, it was so sweet and supportive (on both sides) and vulnerable (when it needed to be) and also, at times, really cute-funny. I giggled a couple times while reading and that was also unexpected, but a nice touch. 

 

While this could be a little bit of a loose end, plot-wise, for some people, I have to say that I liked that the story didn’t cover the “telling people in my life about the vampire” thing. I get that it has to (will have to?) happen, but it’s a logistical piece that this story was fine without IMO, because it would likely not have had the space and time to be handled with appropriate "coming to terms" by Cassie's very (wonderfully) protective friends. Speaking of which, I felt like the final conflict was dealt with a bit too easily. However, I was so glad that it was an external complication and not an interpersonal communication cause for a "third act breakup," that overall I was good with it. 

 

I just have to end with a quick note or two on vampires, because I cannot help myself. Vampires are so versatile! They can bring any vibe, and this specific vampire brings the not-all-that-common unassuming sincere heartthrob. Loved it. And all the Buffy references?! It’s *blatant* vampire-lover fanservice and I was here for IT. Plus, I always enjoy an interpretation on vampire lore, seeing what an author chooses to use and discard and remold, and Levine did not disappoint on the creativity on that front.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apparently, I am on a roll with choosing books that have some really high quality later-in-life bisexual realizations rep. (See my Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail review.) And I am not mad about it. But also, I actually picked up this book because between the one previous Sebastian romance I've read being great (The Queer Principles of Kitt Webb) and the fact that this one was blurbed a couple times as "for Newsies lovers" (which I *very very much* am), it seemed like a general winner. Let me spend this review trying to describe for you all the ways that that is *so* accurate. 

 

Nick Russo grew up in a rough Brooklyn neighborhood and worked hard to land himself a city reporter position with a big name newspaper. Andy Fleming is newspaper royalty, his late mother having won awards for her journalism, and his father is expecting him to take over running the newspaper he brought up from nothing. But Andy is a little bit lost and a whole lot of scattered, and struggles enough taking care of himself, much less an entire business. Despite Andy's near constant bumbling, and Nick's now-innate self-protective habit of never letting anyone close (being a gay man in the 1950s is unsafe in so many ways), they find themselves growing close in an unlikely friendship. When a personal-life situation ends with Nick offering Andy a place to stay for awhile, those feelings of friendship grow into something more, on both sides. Something beautiful and sweet, but also really fragile under the circumstances and climate. Can Nick and Andy take these feelings that they share in secret and let them exist, for real, in a shared future? 

 

Wow. I mean, I am into romance and queer romance and, obviously, Newsies, but I was still not expecting this book to go as hard as it did. I was invested. I *am* invested. I literally cannot stop thinking about these characters. I had some hesitation because, knowing this was a particularly hostile time for queer people in the US (not that current lawmakers aren't trying to take us back there or anything), but like, I feel like I need to be careful with that type of content, for my own mental health. And I generally dislike this time period anyways (like I might be the only person I know who thought Mad Men was terrible). But I am so, so glad that I went for it anyways, because I *loved* this romance. The newspaper coworker setting was a really cute starting place for this relationship. It's a realistic place for people to meet and, with the "travel" required for journalism, it gave space for a variety of locational interactions in a natural way. I thought the way Sebastian handled the situation that ended with Nick and Andy as roommates was also done really smoothly. It could have easily been forced or awkward, as far as plot development, but it wasn't at all. So good. 

 

OMG the slow burn build and tension in the relationship growth from friends to…more than friends...is exquisite. Oh my heart, and OH the emotional investment. The slow awakening Andy has, facilitated by how much easier it is to just focus on liking girls and ignoring the other part of a more fluid sexuality reality, is so perfectly developed and relatable (for me). I thought that Nick and Andy's "opposites attract" vibes were spot on too. Nick's tough exterior and sweet, protective inside (any other Newsies lovers out there read this and picture Spot Conlon, or just me?) combined fantastically with Andy's muddled exterior and internal strength (at least when it came to the people/things he cared about). Honestly, there were times where my heart almost couldn't stand the "fondness" that kept being highlighted between them. The contradictions of safety and vulnerability in relationships are perfectly portrayed here - clumsy but easy, rough but tender, exposed but safe - and the bone deep certainty they develop and hold on to in each other is everything.  

 

I want to take a moment to recognize the wonderful historical fiction depiction of queer life Sebastian built here. (Wonderful regarding her portrayal and writing, not wonderful as in "the reality was a good one.") It's an important reminder that queer people have always been here, always had to face the impossible decisions to be who they are/love who they love and safety/security. And it's also a gorgeous reminder that there’s also always been community and connection and (even if not widespread) recognition and acceptance and love and hope too. The ending does a perfect job bringing those two realities together, and allowing a circumstantial HEA for Nick and Andy, who deserve all that and more. Not everything is perfect and rosy (and there's a reminder in there that money can purchase certain levels of safety and not everyone has access to that), but the power of promise and anticipation for the potential of the future is strong. And that means something big. 

 

Look, I am devastatingly invested in this adorably hapless couple. Yes, historically the time period required haplessness (and carefully curated paranoia) for real safety reasons that are terrible. But this small fictional literary bubble burst my damn heart and I cannot. Came for the Newsies comparisons, stayed for soul-scorching friends to lovers romance. My god I could have read about these characters in a book three times this long. 

 

 

 “Even if he never does anything about it, he's still queer.” 

 

“The look is - it isn't anything Andy's ever seen before. It's almost a smile, if smiles were made of molten metal and bad intentions.” 

 

“Families might usually be bonded by blood, but maybe sometimes they're bonded by shared secrets, by a delicate mixture of caution and faith, by the conviction that hiding together is better in every way than hiding alone.” 

 

“Fear of exposure has been a constant in his life; he doesn't know how to stop being afraid any more than he knows how to stop his heart from beating. Sometimes he feels like the fear is crowding out everything else, though. He wants the good things in his life to take up the space they deserve, but he doesn't know how to go about doing that, even if it’s possible.” 

 

“Maybe the trick is to put fear in its place so it doesn't take over. [...] He can believe that the future they have is worth more than his fear, and he can do what it takes to make that future as safe and happy as possible.” 

 

 

 

 

The fifth book in the Wayward Children portal fantasy series of novellas that, and with each one I continue to see why, win McGuire awards. This is the series for anyone who has ever felt alone or like they don't belong. The first, Every Heart a Doorway, is one of my favorite books of all time. And don't forget to check out my reviews of the previous four books too... 

 

Come Tumbling Down brings back the infamous Jack and Jill from the opening books of the series, as we travel back again to the Moors that their door brought them too. That world is in terrible danger, as Jill has made the (dramatic) move of switching bodies with Jack, in order to be able to fulfill her dream of being turned into a vampire by the Master. But Jack doesn't plan to let that happen. She returns to the School for Wayward Children, along with the (resurrected - because science has far fewer limitations in the Moors) love of her life, Alexis, to ask her previous classmates for help. And they all, to a one, agree to go with her to the dark and creepy Moors, risking life and possibly more, to do so.   

 

In the vein of the third book (Beneath a Sugar Sky), this book takes the students at Eleanor West's school on a quest through someone else's door. Naturally, this is in direct contradiction to the school's "no quest" policy. But really, what are rules to people who have all traveled to other worlds? As always, I cannot get enough of this group of quirky, lost and cast-off, and ultimately profoundly heroic, misfit friends. There are never too many times that the message of finding family with others who have similar experiences and feelings, even if you have nothing other than that in common, can be heard and appreciated. From logic to nonsense, structure to nebulousness, the bonds of "outsiderness" and "un-belonging" trump everything else in a way that is absolutely, absurdly heartwarming. 

 

To be honest, this is not a favorite of the series for me. We've been to the Moors before, and we've had quite a few stories already centered on Jack and Jill, and I'm just ready to move one. Not that it was in any way bad, or comparatively sub-par, I just felt like the specific lessons of their "two sides of the same coin" situation have been fully mined already. And part of the primary compelling-ness of this series for me is that we get these little glimpses into the hard truths that fairy tales and other worlds can bring, in bite-sized pieces of whimsical and horrific world-building, that are different each time. So, that's personal preference. But it's worth mentioning. 

 

Past that, the longing we see in each of the students of the school that go help Jack, from Kade to Cora to Sumi to Christopher, for the worlds that have become lost to them, is palpable in a heartbreaking way. Even more so when you realize that each is willing to sacrifice everything to help Jack save her own world, even knowing that they may never get the chance to get back to or save their own in the same way. There are such deep emotions there - yearning is always, IMO, one of the strongest emotions, when properly conveyed - and McGuire gives a masterclass in that conveyance. 

 

Plus, the learning curve about the darker and angrier part of life, the ones you have to accommodate in order to fully appreciate the better and lighter parts, is intense. And seeing and accepting how those better parts look different for everyone is so central and important. And, of course, the tough choices one has to make when you've failed someone important in your life, but your efforts to make it up to them are not enough to save them and you have to make impossible choices for the greater good. It's a lot in such a short novella. But it's presented in balance with drama and adventure - reanimated corpse horses, lightning-powered un-real science, battles between acolytes of frightening drowned gods and village people under the thrall of a vampire, body-switching, and more - so you can't help but be pulled along by the story itself at the same time. Do beware that this is all “dark and stormy” vibes – a perfect horror-light read for the autumn months – quite literally, with the always-dark weather and the stormy sea that calls to Cora, and figuratively with the reanimated corpses and resurrected girlfriends/fathers and creepy landscape and constant lightning. 

 

This series of haunting tales that show how belonging and healing are possible, no matter how different you feel, is a fable that will provide a refuge for anyone struggling with that IRL for reasons of sexuality/gender to disability to "weird" interests to...anything you can think of, really. And that feels priceless every time I revisit this "world." And the fact that that refuge is wrapped up in magic and portal fantasy and fairy tales is so special. I may be personally over Jack and Jill, but with this clear conclusion to their story, I am absolutely so ready for the next books. I know they'll be there waiting when I need my own reminder of magic and belonging.       

 

 

“Wood rots, steel rusts, but abstract concepts remain.” 

 

“A tool is only a weapon when it's held by people who want to use it the wrong way.” 

 

“Many things exist in a state of patient paradox, waiting for some change of circumstance to tilt them one way or the other.” 

 

“...the fact that I've been damaged doesn’t make me broken, and you don't need to behave as if it does.” 

 

"The world doesn't stop spinning because you're sad, and that's good; if it did, people would go around breaking hearts like they were sheets of maple sugar, just to keep the world exactly where it is. They'd make it out like it was a good thing, a few crying children in exchange for a peace that never falters or fades. [...] We can be sad and we can be hurt and we can even be killed, but the world keeps running, and the things we're supposed to do keep needing to be done." 

 

“New things are the best kind of magic there is.” 

 

“Sometimes heroism is pressing on when the ending is already preordained.” 

 

“Write your name in lighting, shame the sky.” 

 

“I'm sorry. I failed to be your sister. I didn't realize you needed me. But that doesn't make it right for you to take whatever you want and act like no one else matters. People matter. I matter.” 

 

Years ago, if you had asked me, I would have said that magical realism was my favorite genre. And, while I do still really enjoy it, I don’t read it – am not in the mood for it – quite as often. (Though, when they hit, they hit big. Notable recent-ish favs being: Eartheater, We Ride Upon Sticks, and Nothing to See Here.) Anyways, I was feeling something like it, with the onset of fall vibes and cooler weather, and this one has been sitting on my shelf waiting for exactly this timing… 

This novel opens with Orquídea Divina dramatically inviting all her descendants back to her home to “receive their inheritance” on the occasion of her imminent death. When they all arrive, hoping to finally get answers to the magic and secrets that have long plagued their family, they instead find themselves just in time to watch Orquídea transform into a tree. From there, the story unfolds in two directions. First, we follow Orquídea’s life, learning about her mysterious past and the deal she made that brought her ever closer to the ending the novel opened with. Second, we follow three of Orquídea’s (great) grandchildren – Marimar, Rey and Rhiannon – in the years following her disappearance from their lives. When an unknown threat from Orquídea’s past threatens the safety of the family in the present, they travel together to her home country of Ecuador to find the answers she was never able to give them, and take back the power, the promise and the future of the family from the inherited forces that continue to terrorize it. 

Ohhhhh the magical realism, in the grand tradition of  Latinx authors, is spectacular here. Spectacular. (reference intended) With grandmother growing roots, crocodile-like River spirits, resurrected roosters that lay green-yolked eggs, letters that arrive at their destination magically without addressing, living stars that grant wishes, mysterious biblical plague illnesses, and more this novel has all the magic and wonder a story could hold, and more.  Sometimes I find that magical realism can lean into the obscure and obtuse, but this was perfectly accessible. And I just loved that entire aspect of the book, from start to finish. 

I did have a few questions about the plot. On the whole, it was interesting and well-paced. There was just enough tension to keep me kinda on the edge of my seat, but never so much that I was *too* stressed out (for me, the perfect amount). And if I just lean into the general story-telling and entertainment, it was really solid. However, there were a couple small things that I wasn’t sure about. For example, I feel like the Living Star really should have held a bigger grudge against Orquídea. And I guess that maybe he did, but by the time he comes back in the present he’d already (somehow, and I have some questions about how that happened as well, since then he was back in “custody” when we meet him in the present, but whatever) worked through some of that and had a new/different investment in the success of the family. (no spoilers) And maybe the relatively greater evil they were all afraid of can explain away that forgiveness too. But still. It felt a bit too easy. Also, there didn’t seem to be enough time/space for Rhiannon to mourn for all her losses. And she was young, and maybe the whole family being there for her to fill in is the bigger picture message. But again, it just seemed a little too easy, too flimsy. 

However, to sandwich those plot detail questions with the great things about this book. I loved the themes it is centered around. The way the Montoya family, led by Marimar and Rey and Rhiannon, overcome the past and face the secrets of an old terror, together, in order to claim what is rightfully theirs and move together into a safer and happier future, was fantastic. There were so many secrets that Orquídea kept. And just…what a commentary on how openly talking about the past and lived traumas can help prevent that legacy from being passed on and instead promote healing from it. Lovely. And the three of them were able to both overcome and simultaneously have, and keep, flaws of their own, which I always respect for authenticity reasons. Plus, the way the magical realism details supported these themes in metaphoric and symbolic ways all the through was done so well. 

So, if you, like me, are willing to overlook a few particulars in order to appreciate the greater story being told, the vibes being built and the messages being communicated, then get your hands on this book. You will fall right into it! 

 

“Damn the stars and damn luck. Damn everyone and anything who thought her insignificant. Orquídea Montoya was going to rewrite her fate.” 

 

“In the end, family wasn't about blood. [...] You could be born into a family, but you still had to choose them.” 

 

“There is nothing brighter than a wish. It comes from true hope. Humanity is so full of that. Desperate hope. Joyous hope. Even those in anguish, especially those in anguish, I should say, have hope. The anticipation that tomorrow will be better than the next day.” 

 

“After all, belief was like glass - once broken it could be pieced back together but the fissures would always be there.” 

 

“Lies carve out holes until they make one big enough to escape through.” 

 

“How do you fight a thing that believes it owns you? How do you fight the past? With gold leaves and salt? With silence? With new earth beneath your feet? With the bodies, the hearts of others? With hearts that are tender and bloodied but have thorns of their own. With the family that chooses you.” 

 

First, thanks to NetGalley for the eARC for review (all opinions are my own). I was interested in this one as soon as I read the blurb, and requested it right away. But, as per usual, I didn't get to it until post-publication. Knowing that about myself, I requested that my library get the audiobook (I just am really getting into those, you know) and was hoping it would get added right after the pub date. Unfortunately, that was not the case. BUT, then it was long-listed for the National Book Award and was *immediately* available. And since I had requested it weeks before that, I was conveniently right at the top of the holds list and here we are. Look at me go. *wink* 

 

A Council of Dolls follows three generations of Yanktonai Dakota women, connected over a century by the experiences of massacres, Indian boarding schools, cultural pride and advocacy, family, and a tradition of treasured dolls. Cora was born in 1888, in the wake of the so-called Indian Wars, sent across the country, far from her home and family to be "civilized." Lillian is Cora's daughter, born in 1925 into a tumultuous home life, as her parents (but especially her father) deal with the trauma of their youth, and the family generally struggles with meeting their needs. Cora and her sister, Blanche, are also sent to boarding schools, where Blanche refuses to bow to vicious nuns and Cora finds refuge from tragedy around her in memories of a doll she had to give away before leaving home. Lilian's daughter, Sissy, is both our opening and closing narrator. Born in Chicago in 1961, she has both wonderful and terrifying memories of time with her volatile mother. And she too has a close dool friend, who supports her, in particular, through those terrifying and fragile times. The stories of these women's lives shadow and mirror each other's in many ways, and those tales are told both in their own voices and through the voices and perspectives of each of their dolls.  

 

Well, I can see why this made awards lists. It's incredibly emotionally resonant, with prose that is powerful, artistic, and yet remains accessible and really compulsively readable. I made it through the audiobook in just a few days, because I just kept wanting to pick it up and re-immerse myself in these characters. It doesn't shy away from terrible and heartbreaking truths, but it maintains an equal focus on the cultural and familial connections that provide reason and hope. While all three perspectives (possibly we could ever say four, since the age difference between Sissy's two sections is big enough to set them very apart from each other), were moving and compelling, I was particularly drawn to the first, that of Sissy as a young girl. This is honestly a surprise for me, as child narrators are *very* hit or miss for me (and more often than not, a miss, with the notable exception, recently-ish, of Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line.) In any case, the way that complex topics like land theft and residential schools and forced assimilation leading to language/culture loss were explained to Sissy as a child was incredibly touching and tender and heartbreaking. It was such a highlight (though one would wish it didn’t have to be) of passing on what does remain - the good memories and touchstones along with the bad and traumatic. Similarly, the hypervigilance of Sissy, as a child with an inconsistent/unstable parent (at least in part as a result of an attempt to "toughen a child up to prepare them for the world") is well portrayed and adds to the building heartbreaking-ness of the story, while also being well balanced with the softness of the good memories of a father when he’s there and a mother in her better moments.  

 

Another aspect of this novel that I was lukewarm on, at least to start, was the doll theme and parallels through the generations. Honestly, I am usually lukewarm on dolls - they were really never a "thing" for me, so I don't even have nostalgia to help with that. But to be honest, the dolls as a literary vehicle for the things each character knows but doesn’t want to/isn’t ready for yet (or symbolic of a literal experiencing/fate of their owner), is developed so well. The creepy-factor I usually get from dolls was just, nonexistent, by the end, because of the power with which Power's writing utilizes them. So affecting. Between the dolls and the girls who bonded with them, this novel covers residential schools to massacres to “legal” land grabs to the ‘self-loathing born of brutally effective colonization’ to the intergenerational effects of the realities and memories of these atrocities (and the many ways the legacy of being failed can lead to failure in return), in an overall individual experience of the universal truth of indigenous peoples' treatment at the hands of colonizers (white people) and their government(s). The thing is though (and I know I've said this already, but I feel the need to reiterate), there is also, especially in the work that the older Sissy's perspectives has done and continues to do towards healing, but resonant in ways throughout the generations, a great deal of deep, life-saving, cultural connection, familial support and love, a clear effort towards doing one's best as a parent, and just generally a thread of belonging and yearning and hope that brings a well of, if not necessarily joy or happiness, of a sort of contentment and peace that isn't perfect, but is uplifting/fulfilling all the same.    

 

Throughout this novel, there is a stark acknowledgment of truth, mixed with a delivery of that truth with a profound tenderness, that I feel can only come from (at least semi) autobiographical experience, or an experience that one is intimately familiar with (in the tradition of family stories/lore). The Author's Note/Afterward of the novel does indicate that that is at least partially true for the contents of this novel, and while it would have been a forceful read either way, that makes the heart of this story, the women and the dolls at its center, beat that much stronger. 

 

"Sometimes when you lose every fight, you end up breaking." 

 

"I let out a shaky breath and learn an awful lesson I still don't understand. How when a dream comes true have to feel deserving or else it brings on;y guilt and shame." 

 

"In all the stories I've read and heard about magic, people do best when they just believe. It's when they start poking at it, asking too many questions, that everything unravels." 

 

"My father says that we should welcome all stories to see if they are worth remembering.  You can put ideas on and off just like moccasins. You can wear them and set them aside, hold onto those you find meaningful. Don't be afraid of learning something beyond what we're able to teach you. Even the wisest person doesn't know everything. But it's also important to preserve the ideas that make sense to you, even in the face of resistance--someone telling you that you're wrong and only they know the truth. Such boasting is evidence of a fool, perhaps a dangerous one." 

 

"I just want you to know that what strangers make of you means nothing. Your heart knows the truth." 

 

"We don't see the truth. But our hearts feel it if we listen." 

 

"Creativity that comes from our most courageous, authentic heart opens us to the Flow, an unseen river of images, insights, and visions where we connect across time with all that has ever lived." 

 

"You're the writer, so you'll understand this better than me, but I learned that we can't heal the story by changing the plot, pretending the awful stuff didn't happen. Tragedy just breaks out somewhere else along the line. The story won't heal until the players do." 

 

" Survival is never a waste... Remember what you told me one time, how you felt your main job some years was to stay alive? Well, you did your job, you made it through. Not everyone does. It takes fortitude."
 

“Stories are funny that way. They can kick up your nerves even though you know the ending.” 

 

“There is no true healing without remembering.” 

 

"Wrecked children inherit the power of the destroyed - a formidable energy. They create the ferocious allies they need either to survive or let go and embrace destruction. Mended children carry stronger medicine. Their magic unites the flow of Time with Love, our oldest waters. And so they bring us Home." 

 

I believe I'm on a journey to slowly read through all of Alexis Hall's books - or at the very least all the ones that I can get access to through my US-based library system. I'd been looking forward to this one since pre-publication (that cover!, the witchy-fae vibes, the sapphic historical - regency, victorian, idk? - romance...all in all, yes please). 

 

When suspiciously magical and not particularly enviable things start happening to Maelys Mitchelmore, like a dress unravelling as she's wearing it to an evening party and dessert turning to maggots in her mouth, her best friend, Miss Bickle, suggests that perhaps the cause is...supernatural. With very few alternate explanations, and no direct experience dealing with curses themselves, they turn to "less desirable" persons for help. In particular, the Duke of Annadale (the Lady Georgianna), reputed to be a witch because her family all died quickly and conveniently left her heir to a very large fortune. But as the women work together to find out more and break the curse on Miss Mitchelmore, they find out that perhaps the Duke of Annadale is unfairly accused. And in the process of facing down terrible magic and angered deities and all manner of other not-fit-for-ladies situations, Maelys and Georgianna must also face down their own feelings for each other. 

 

If I'm being honest, this was a *little bit* of a mixed bag for me. First, the good stuff. Starting with the Prologue, and rolling all the way through the Acknowledgements and Author Bio, this is absolutely and without a doubt the most uniquely narrated book I’ve ever read. Robin, our disgraced and exiled hobgoblin narrator, was straight up hilarious and observationally sarcastic, but in a fantastically unreal/magical sort of perspective. Hall really took his normal (high quality) smart, sarcastic writing tone and stepped it up to an 11 here. #iykyk  If I'm being honest, it was a lot. Like if you start reading this and the narration isn't for you, go ahead and stop. It doesn't let up. Personally, I thought it was great; the perfect type of eccentric. Plus, the combination of Hall's normal phenomenal banter, added to the pomp and properness of the historical language, made for fantastic dialogue all the way through. I also loved the creativity in all the forms the Robin takes while staying on the trail of this unfolding and dramatic story of love and magic and revenge: dust mites, candle flames, smoke wisps, mouse, a bird, etc. That was one of my favorite little details. 

 

My biggest issue, and really the primary (and possibly only) reason for my lukewarm-ish response, is that I just never really bought into the relationship between Maelys and Georgianna. And to head off any misinterpretation, no, it is not because it was more "fade to black" than I would have liked nor because of the more straight-laced-ness of the time period it's set in. Hall met (and exceeded) my expectations on both those fronts with A Lady for a Duke. I just never really got invested in them ending up together. I think there's a chance it was related to the narrator, who (as I've said) was entertaining AF, but that style of story-telling kept the characters themselves at a bit of a distance from the reader, so I never got as emotionally invested in the outcome as I would have wanted. Also, and this is more of a me thing, the vibes from both were not really my style. I was much more here for Miss Bickle, tbh. The whimsicality and flightiness of her character is one of my favorite kinds to read. It's just so light and fun, which is perfect for what this novel was. And I do love that that same trait of loving the magical and fairy tale-based, that was generally just tolerated like one would for a child, ended up being instrumental to the HEA...don’t knock something just because it isn’t immediately important to you! 

 

But anyways, the point I was making is that the adventure and curse-breaking and general entertainment level of this novel were great, but the romance, a fairly central aspect, never grabbed me. I think I would have been happier with a general tale of historical, slightly off-kilter (by societal standards), leading ladies taking on those magical adventures and melodramatic curse-breaking. Take from that what you will. But, just know that I still stan Hall's writing and recommend this one if it sounds like your vibes.  

 

 

“I have a fondness for scenes of mortal misadventure, especially those that befall preposterously…” 

 

“…I’ve always found strangers rather fascinating. They have such a wonderful habit of turning out to be beautiful, unexpected, deadly things.” 

 

“I suppose that depends on what you think a witch to be. It might be better to say that I have needed, over the years, to learn a number of things about the world that other people seldom need to learn.” 

 

“Gods are, in many ways, like sharks and, in many more ways, like cats. They are drawn to blood, and love to toy with the wounded.” 

 

“…for her own part, was rather less sure. But it was, she was finding, a sweet unsureness. An uncertainty grounded in the hope of better, rather than the fear of worse. And that, she allowed herself to believe, made it worth pursuing.”