Reviews by just_one_more_paige

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just_one_more_paige

The Fae Keeper

H.E. Edgmon

4.0

adventurous challenging dark emotional hopeful inspiring reflective tense 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: Complicated

Reading (well, listening to) The Witch King last year was an experience of magic and anger and queerness and social justice that just really hit the spot. So, I was excited to get to this second book in this series pretty soon after it came out.

Just a few weeks after the dramatic ending of book one, in which Wyatt brought Emyr back to life and Derek and Clarke Pierce tried to take over, things haven't really calmed down at all in Asalin. Wyatt, Emyr, Jin, Tessa and Briar are all working in their own ways to make this country of theirs (or not theirs, in Briar's case) better. They have closed the door to Faery, are hunting down Derek and Clarke, have abolished the corrupt Guard and are trying to get other Fae kingdoms to follow their lead in revamping the way fae magic is used in order to save the literal land they live in. But there is no rest, or time for reflection and emotional assessment, for this group, as a secret from Faery about the witches real role in society is unearthed, and the split in Fae society over it threatens an inter-kingdom war. Plus, the amount of relationship turmoil amongst the group is intense, and will eventually need the space to be sorted out or it's all going to come to an emotional interpersonal head.

This sequel absolutely lives up to the first! It was actually kind of an exhausting read, with its breakneck pacing and intense emotional reckonings (there are a number of content warnings, with violence and sexual manipulation/trauma big among them - they are listed out in detail in a forward from the authat as well), but in the [good] entertaining reader way. There was so much action in almost every chapter, I could barely catch a breath between dramatic reveals, battles, high stakes decisions, and more. And when there was any kind of downtime from that, the characters used it to start to converse through past (and ongoing) traumas and try to figure out what their relationships with each other are in light of everything that has happened or been disclosed. On that note, I really liked the way Wyatt and Emyr are given page-time to figure out what they mean to each other, the place they hold in each other's lives, separarte of external expectations and on their own terms. (The ending, in relation to this, was perfectly written to close the story and allow for furthering of this emotional path in a believable way.) And, in one of the major exploratory moments on this theme, I loved the conversation about being someone's mirror vs being their mate, the concept of decentering procreation and biological compatibility in partnership in favor of making each other better. It just really rang true, on a profound level, for me. And again, Wyatt and Briar's platonic/friendship love was beautiful, in both its highs and lows, in how they are choosing each other, even past a time of needing each other and the unique challenges and strengths that leads to. Just generally, with all the relationships on page, the way that Edgmon highlights, over and over, that a family can look like whatever you want it to, is so heart-filling.

There were so many other things I loved as well, so here I go trying to list them all out. The narration. The audiobook narrator was the same as the first (Dani Martineck) and they crushed it. There was also a super cool effect to Vorgaine's voice, when they had on-page dialogue, that was super fun and added a great dimension to the audio. The magic itself remains awesome, the witches and the fae are generally two magical groups I favor in fantasy and I enjoy having them both centered here. Plus, the addition of background on changelings and the unveiling of the origins of witch magic and the truth of Faery were great in an epic-fantasy-aspect. And I appreciate still, very much, that the primary conflicts are between fae and witches, and that all the gorgeous queerness of our characters is accepted at face-value, just a part of them the way their wings, height, etc. are. This series is amazing for showing us how things could be in real life if we would just...accept who people are.

I forgot how much I was into some of the small details, like the colored energy auras and Wyatt's daily tarot card pull (I mean, I've always had a soft spot for tarot cards too), and in that case, the way it was integrated even further into his personal and magical growth was awesome. Speaking of Wyatt's growth, while his anger is still front and center, it is a bit more honed here, focusing the "burn down the establishment" vibes (and at least a little less on his own friends/allies) in a more purposeful and productive way. I assume this is at least in part related to the supportive family/friends situation he has now, as well as the work of self-discovery/confidence that he's been doing. Past that, the social justice messages remain a sledgehammer. They're spot on (like the entire illustration of how supremacy of one group hurts everyone by putting arbitrary limits on the majority in order to keep a small few in power - oooof), and important, but deeply un-subtle. Whereas the emotional introspection pieces are much more nuanced, with very insightful points about boundaries, and how sacrifice and martyrdom are neither healthy nor romantic, even when for "the greater good."

What a metaphor this whole novel/series is. The explorations of power and empowerment are deeply delved into, in a very affecting way. The relationships, of so many different kinds, are all so authentic in their love and their flaws. The plot itself was fantastic, fast-moving and compelling, with lots of larger messages and emotional moments mixed with straight up action, and the wrap-up was very fitting. Overall, I was just super entertained and fired up the whole time I was reading.

“Maybe it’d be nice to have skin that didn't feel marked by the things the world has done to me.”

“Becoming a better person is so draining. I've made one single mature decision and I feel like I need a nap.”

"You fight like hell for each other, in whatever world you're in. You fight for a better future. And you use your privilege when you can. That's all you can do."

"There is a difference between equality and justice. [...] Majority rule might sound fair, but it still isn't the right choice when the majority decides to hurt people."

“I can scorch the whole world, but that won’t save the people I love.”

“But anger as deep as mine can never go away. Not really. Not entirely. It just waits to be needed. Forcing myself to be smaller than I am and calling it self-growth isn't the grand solution to my problems I've been acting like it is.”

"Because if we're going to commit to tearing down the systems that hurt innocent people, we can't keep using them to hurt the ones who deserve it, either. [...] Sometimes justice is complicated like that."

"Guilt is such a useless emotion. I can't do anything good with it. Anger gets shit done. Grief helps move me from one place to the other. Envy shows me what I want. But guilt? It's just there, hanging out in my body, making me feel like shit, with nothing to show for it."

"...they're all just afraid. Because they see something different from themselves, and they're terrified of what that thing is going to do to them. They think, because their inclination is to hurt anything they don't understand, everyone else's instinct is the same. They think they'll get knocked down the hierarchy, because they can't understand the concept of a world where hierarchy doesn't exist. [...] They can't separate the the ideas of ---- equality and ----supremacy, because they can't imagine a world where someone doesn't rule - and someone else isn't ruled. And because of that, they treat us the way they do. [...] And they did that. They created their own worst fear."

“If I learned anything about religion in the human world, it's that a lot of people love the shield of a god more than they'll ever love the god themself."

Content Warnings

Unbound: My Story of Liberation and the Birth of the Me Too Movement

Tarana Burke

5.0

challenging emotional informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

This nonfiction has been on my TBR since I first saw it on the "new books" shelf at the library a few months ago. As with all things, it took me some time to get to it. Though especially in this case, knowing how intense of a read it was likely to be, I also had to balance my emotional state with reading timing. But my "mood" and the dual availability of physical and audiobooks at the library meant the time was right.

Tarana Burke is a lifelong activist and founder of the "Me Too" movement. In this memoir (read spectacularly by Burke herself, if you are interested in listening to the audiobook), she recounts her own childhood experiences with sexual abuse, the coping mechanisms (supressing the memories and acting the "good" child on the outside while keeping her"bad" side hidden internally) that she used for years, and the social-emotional effects that "splitting" of herself took. As she speaks about her passion for social justice, becoming deeply involved with the 21st Century Program first as a student herself, and then as a leader, her work with other Black kids, especially young Black girls, made her realized how widespread (and how chronically under-addressed) child sexual abuse was in her community. It took an incredibly difficult emotional reckoning of her own for Burke to finally be able to speak and begin to process her own abuse, but that effort gave her the strength and motivation to start the "me too" movement, creating a community of empathy, acceptance, and support to allow women, particularly and centrally Black women, the space and empowerment to speak their own truths and begin their own journeys of healing.

This is not a very long book, and yet its impact on the reader is profound. For the most part, this review will be me just listing the myriad social insights Burke puts into words that resonated with or impressed me (which were many). But even without me writing that, and just from the quick topical overview of what this memoir covers, I want everyone to know how much I recommend this read. It is...so hard. Burke describes in no uncertain terms her own sexual abuse as a child, as well as a number of others' similar experiences, including her own child's. So please be gentle with yourself getting into this. But past that, the strength and generosity of spirit that Burke shows as the movement she worked so hard to find for herself and provide for other Black women goes viral, outside her control and consent, is amazing. She communicates her pride in how it helped create a chance for so many women to feel safe speaking out, while simultaneously making it very clear that this safe space was very much primarily for white women and didn't extend to women of color in the same way, in the way that Burke originally meant it to. There's a lot of feeling and a lot to unpack, as Burke finds herself in an intersectional position of forced choices, as a victim of sexual abuse and rape or as a Black person, trying to serve others like herself, who are both. Burke is admirable in her frank discussion and handling of it. She is similarly admirable in the way she both acknowledges the difficulties of and calls out the lack of accountability in the Black, and 21st Century, communities for holding different internal and external standards.

This isn't the first book I've read addressing sexual abuse, and like all the others, Burke highlights how much we need to shift our conversation about it. The message of “protect yourself/don’t let anyone touch your privates” has its heart in the right place, but continues to put the onus on the victim, leading over and over to shame/fear/pain and internalizing guilt, to young girls believing that they’re dirty and at fault and rule breakers, instead of placing it where it should be, squarely on the back of the person doing the abusing. This goes hand in hand with Burke's introspection, on her personal (but widely shared), inability to handle what happened to her, and the way that rage and suppression feel safer, despite not actually helping process the trauma. The fact that no one is willing to talk about these difficult types of things (like child sexual abuse) allows so much space for it to continue, because the victims don’t have tools or resources to believe in their innocence, or to understand how much they deserve protection and justice. Reading Burke's own coming of age, both as an organizer/activist and in regards to her willingness to openly reckon with her own history with abuse, was inspiring. You could feel her emotion and passion on the page as she begins to recognize the cycle of adults who have unresolved trauma of their own, and how they are then not equipped to help youth process theirs, in herself - and the amount of courage it takes to break that cycle - is astounding. And the way she connects it to the importance of seeing that you’re not alone, that community and empathy are cornerstones in self-acceptance and grace and coming to terms with the duality and complexity of being your authentic self is truly amazing.

This was an incredibly emotional and affecting reading experience, in ways both traumatic and uplifting. There is space held for progress made, as well as a clear call for more work yet to come. Burke's longing for belonging, pushed along by the bravery of the young Black women she worked with, created the intertwining of courage and community for healing, for empathy and trust and knowing you aren’t alone, in a visceral way. And her organizing to help herself and other Black girls and women find a sense of self worth, a surety that they are worthy and seen and valued and deserve to live, have reasons to live, and find who they truly are (not just who the world says you are) is something truly special. What. A. Memoir.

“The story of how empathy for others - without which the work of 'me too' doesn't exist - starts with empathy for that dark place of shame where we keep our stories, and where I kept mine.”

“It’s the trap in which so many Black girls find themselves, either performing our pain or performing through it.”

“There is no question that self-hate severely limits one's capacity to love fully and wholeheartedly. Capacity and desire are not the same thing, especially in discussions of love.”

“I know how hard it hits when you realize that each life has its own purpose, even the lives of our children, and that purpose is not dictated by our needs.”

“I had set out to reinvent myself, but it turned out that I didn't have to start from scratch. I just had to dust myself off, because the best parts were already there.”

"I felt like part of my role in the organization was as ambassador and success story. Not the 'she finished high school and went on to college' kind of success - but the 'she left a dark place and found community and purpose' kind of success."

“It is wildly irresponsible to make people feel comfortable enough to open up without being prepared with the resources to help them process their experiences and receive continued support.”

“What is the point of a movement for liberation if we can't reflect the same dignity and accountability between each other that we are demanding from people outside of our communities?”

"When is comes to sexual violence in the Black community, the culture of secrecy and silence is more complex than just wanting to protect the perpetrator. The long history of false accusations of sexual violence against Black men along with our tumultuous relationship with law enforcement is a factor. The pain of watching folks twist themselves out of shape finding new ways to blame little Black girls for their own abuse plays a part. And the general ranking of sexual violence as minor in the face of things like structural racism and crippling poverty also plays a role in how hard it is for us to stare down the monster that is sexual violence and call it out by name. I believe that our legacy of living under the oppressive reach of white supremacy has trained us to take on shame that is not ours to carry. It's a training that tells us we must have done something wrong or played a role in causing this harm in some way, however small."

"Survivors were always silenced, or shamed, and the community seemed to value whatever modicum of honor or prestige the predator represented over the lives and livelihood of the Black girls in that community."

Content Warnings

Drunk on Love

Jasmine Guillory

4.0

emotional lighthearted 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: Complicated

I always know that when I want a good contemporary romance escape, Jasmine Guillory has got me! I’m behind (and a little all over the place) on her “The Wedding Date” series, but I thought both The Wedding Date and Royal Holiday were great. This one is her most recently (just) published work, a standalone, but was quickly added to the top of my TBR because, with family that works at wineries, the setting was just one of those “I have to read this one” situations.

Margot Noble co-owns and runs the business side of her family winery, along side her brother (Elliot) who handles the actual wine making. She’s been working super hard to get the winery more press and reach and, honestly, could use a night off. Luke Williams just quit his high-profile tech job and moved back to Napa to help a childhood friend while he figures some stuff out for himself. He picks up a job at a local winery to give him something to do while he’s there. On Margot’s big night off and the night before Luke’s first day, the two meet at a bar and have a fireworks-level one night stand. So, when Luke shows up at work the next morning an Margot realizes her new employee is none other than the guy whose apartment she left that morning…things get complicated, emotional, tense, and as time goes by, realllllly spicy.

Well, Guillory delivers again. This was just a super fun romance to read. It jumps right in with the steamy scenes at the beginning. And then the wait as we build to the next ones is perfectly tense and well worth the wait when Margot and Luke finally get together again. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Guillory has a way with writing sex scenes that are hot and not at all cringey…it’s a real skill. Anyways, Margot and Luke have great chemistry, not just physically, but emotionally as well. Luke feels so perfect (at least to me, haha), like thoughtful and nerdy and responsive, and it fits nicely, since he is a bit younger than Margot and that maturity feels like a requirement to make this relationship a believable success.

They each had their own issues (the imposter syndromes and insecurities and internal second-guessing, for very different reasons, but very similar in vibe regardless) at their jobs/in their lives. These troubles felt very authentic and recognizable to me, and they did cause them to make questionable decisions that challenged their connection with each other. And yet, I truly appreciated that they never quibbled over talking straight when conversations about their feelings for each other came up. As a more seasoned reader of romance now, I prefer these more mature relationship realities, versus the contrived conflicts that often rise from lack of or miscommunication with each other. I mean, yes, there were some small secrets, but at the end, they were accidental and more an issue due to each needing to deal with their own stuff and less to do with each other. Plus, the “third act break” was short and more a reasonable argument than a full on break up/get back together trope. So yea, I was here for that.

Like I said, I thought this was an entertaining, well written and wonderfully steamy romance. Super fun with my (limited/second-hand) wine industry knowledge – some of the common happenings and customer stories are definitely familiar and that’s always fun. Both Margot and Luke were solidly developed separately and together, their need to prove themselves at work (for externally motivated reasons) is something I really identify with, and their maturity levels (while still being vulnerable and emotional) definitely felt genuine. Rock solid work from Guillory; I for sure recommend this one.

Content Warnings

Jade War

Fonda Lee

4.0

adventurous dark tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

The second book in the sweeping and immersive "The Green Bone Saga" fantasy series. It's a chunky one, but so far it deeply remains worth it!

Jade War picks up right where Jade City leaves us. There is a temporary lull in the No Peak vs Mountain Clan war for control over the island of Kekon. Though that moment of quiet is not destined to last for long. And the stakes get even higher here, as the war over jade expands to a national level. Both governments and local gangs in other countries are entering the fray, as far as access to jade and its powers and financial benefits go. The Kaul family is doing everything they can to gain advantage over the Mountain and maintain the sanctity of the way of the Green Bone both at home and abroad, making alliances and political moves and planning assassinations and more.

The dual stars of the first novel, the details of the Kaul family dynamics and the world-building internal to Kekon, remain just as spectacular in this second book. The overall complexity of the Green Bone clan traditions and beliefs, as well as the nuances of the interactions and power struggles and social rules, are so impressive, and one of the major reasons these books pull you in with such strength. This book really does take you further too, not just relying on what was set up in the first one and sacrificing continued depth in favor of plot movement. Lee walks the fine line of detail and intrigue, moving into a more international setting, including a complicated amount of new enemies and alliances and deals and politics, but somehow still keeping things moving with a considerable amount of drama. And I loved that expansion into the larger world. It was great for moving forwards from what we learned in the first book about Green Bone culture and placing it in a wider context, allowing the reader who had (obviously) been set up to sympathize with them, to see some of the ways their (insular) traditions may have dangers/shortcomings in a wider context, but always with that understanding of the harmful aspects of foreign colonizers had brought in the past. Fascinating and incredibly applicable (and accurate) to real life. That context was one thing I had wanted more of in the first book, so I was really excited for it here. I was hoping for a bit more detail on the workings of the jade itself, and I feel like, while I have a better vibe for its role and how it enhances ability, we still don't have an explanation as to how/why it works that way. It may just be a world mystery that we have to accept at face vaule...and I feel better about that possibility after this book, if I'm being honest, so that's good.

Relatedly, the further development of the Kaul family, and the No Peak vs Mountain conflict, mirrored that external expansion. Shae's efforts to get No Peak to look outside Kekon for advantages, and Ayt Mada's similar moves (if less obvious until key moments, as we aren't following her narrative perspective), allowed for great character growth for Hilo and Anden, and Wen to a certain extent (her cooperation with Shae is a wonderful addition - and a cool and positive spin on what is essentially her "disability"). Anden's time internationally helped him realize a lot about himself, with the space to do so, both personally and professionally (as far as his role in the No Peak clan and his use of jade). I enjoyed the glimpses into Shae's personal life as well, even if it was overall fairly tragic, but it gave her some really nice dimension and growth as well. And Hilo's maturing into a true leader, past violence and his role as the Horn, has been spectacular, though the things that make him Hilo, like his way with people (which is just the kind of character trait I love in a fantasy MC) and family loyalty and emotions, are still central to his being. It's a really authentic character path and I'm truly enjoying reading it. Final character comment...we have been following Breo all over the place for two books now and I am dying to finally know what role he is going to play (other than representing another, "normal person," point of view) that makes it that important to know his whole story.

Y'all, so much happened in this book. There was a lot of "slower" setting up a lot of alliances and greater world politics in this one that were super intriguing. And it was interspersed with quite a bit of harsh decision-making and violence (how Hilo deals with Enyi, Doru’s death, THE duel, abortion, what happens to Mudt and Maro and Kehn, and so much more). Honestly, it was both steadily paced and nonstop action, and I am loving the “new beginnings” sort of ending...clearly there is much more to come, but also a lot has been resolved or come out in the open or been reset/reframed, and I feel the build for the finale with great anticipation. While I totally have no idea where the last book is going to take/leave us, I am so invested in and intrigued to find out.

“Out of small resentments, spring great wars.”

“…the possibility of death was like the weather - you could make attempts to predict it, but you would likely be wrong, and no one would change their most important plans due to threat of rain.”

“…he felt no great relief or happiness - only the sort of heaviness that comes from wanting something for so long that the final achievement of it is a loss - because the waiting is over and the waiting has become too much a part of oneself to let go of easily.”

Content Warnings

Monday's Not Coming

Tiffany D. Jackson

4.0

dark emotional mysterious sad tense fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

I have seen many readers rave about Jackson's novels. And I've been meaning to read something by her for quite some time. She has quite a few books out now, and there seems to just be consensus that her books are great; no standout or obvious starting place. So, this ended up being a random choice.

When Claudia heads back to school to start her 8th grade year, she cannot wait to see her best friend Monday after a summer spent apart. But Monday isn't there. In fact, weeks go by and she still isn't coming to school - but no one seems to know where she actually is. And as far as Claudia can tell, no one cares but her. She and Monday are as close as sisters, so Claudia cannot figure out why she disappeared without telling her, not when they had so many plans for high school and dance and...everything...that they can only do together. Plus, after all the rumors from last year and how much Claudia needs her help for school, she just knows that something is wrong. Despite getting continued misinformation and run-arounds from everyone she goes to for help, including her parents, school teachers and counselors, Monday's family, and even the police, Claudia will not stop looking for her friend, determined to figure out why no one can tell her where Monday has gone.

Wow, y'all. I honestly don't know what I was expecting, as there can really be no "happy ending" or "uplifting message" to a story about a missing child that no one can find (or even really seems to be looking for). And yet, this was still way more intense than I was prepared for. First, the obvious. It is horrifying and infuriating that something like this can happen. Yes, I realize that this is fictional. However, this is one of those stories that is fiction only because these characters are not real, not because the situation/plot hasn't or doesn't happen. There are some heartbreaking moments when Claudia sees "red flag" moments but doesn't understand them for what they are, due to a mix of naïveté and overprotectiveness and that self-centered POV that youth have before puberty allows for empathy and perspective. Even worse though, are the ways that so many adults both missed and purposefully ignored those same red flags...and a whole child fell through the cracks, hard, as a result. Like, in how many ways, and by how many people and organizations, were Monday and her siblings failed? Jackson raises important and complex questions about who is ultimately responsible for your well being: your family, community, government, etc., but at the end of the day, the safety nets they should be for each other all failed too. And that is just too real.

Some other really intense content was included as well, which gave a lot of wonderful depth and nuance to the story surrounding the primary "issue" of Monday's disappearance. Considering what I do for a living, and the age of the characters, I really appreciated the way Jackson demonstrated puberty hitting in different ways, and at different times, for everyone. In the 6th-7th grade time on page, they were both clearly in different developmental stages, some due to environmental reasons, but some of it also hormonally. I love that they were given that complexity of consideration. There was a deeply impactful look at the stigma around disability, and how far a kid would go to "protect themselves" and avoid that stigma, even if they have all the best, and open, support from family and others around them. It makes you think about where they get those messages from (peers, media, etc.) that are more powerful than even your close friends/family, and how much work we have to do to counteract how harmful that is. In addition to that (internalized) ableism, there is also quite a bit of homophobic commentary, and an incident of digital sexual harassment that could be tough to read, depending on your personal experiences with that. As one more content warning note, there is an aspect of the story that covers miscarriage, specifically, and something I haven't read much before (perspectivally), the children who would have been siblings, which was really tragic.

There’re a couple other things I want to mention too, that had me reacting strongly, even as they held smaller parts in the overall story. The role that dance played in Claudia’s healing was lovely – art is unique in how it can help overcome and I love the central role it got here. I was particularly frustrated throughout the novel with Claudia’s parents because honestly, for all that they were supportive and caring, I feel like they really dropped some major balls, like getting legit mental health care for the daughter (especially after reading the “twist”) and (while I know it’s a cultural taboo about not getting involved in other families’ business) what little effort they made to follow up on Monday’s situation. I was pretty upset about both those things. The timeline really confused me until very close to the end. And I get it, in regards to Claudia’s “twist,” but also, it was so late that it was actually a lot of effort to go back and try to remember which aspects of the story took place during which of the time periods (it did help explain how some of the things Claudia was doing felt ”too old” for her, as an 8th grader, but still, it was a lot to mentally sort). Speaking of the twist…idk if it was necessary? It was a shocking enough reading experience even without that, in my opinion.

Anyways, this book had so much going on. How Jackson managed to make such a compelling mystery, a “taken from the headlines” crime situation, while also addressing as many social and cultural issues as she did, all in a reasonable-length and accessible YA novel is truly impressive. I was invested from start to finish in Claudia’s voice and narration, as well as the mystery of what had actually happened to Monday. I was horrified and shocked by so many things in the end, but in a great story-telling way. The next time I’m in the mood for a similarly emotionally intense and page-turningly dramatic narrative, I’ll be sure to look for another of Jackson’s works.

“She was my best friend. How could I not believe her? If she was lying, it had to be for a good reason. Right?”

“It’s hard facing a mirror and seeing all you are made of and all you couldn’t absorb.”

Content Warnings

On a Night of a Thousand Stars

Andrea Yaryura Clark

3.0

dark emotional informative tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

Thanks to a random confluence of events, I received an eARC of this book from NetGalley and then was actually able to pick up a physical ARC from the library (we randomly get sent ARCs that are then set out for employees to grab, which is a deeply wonderful job perk). While my Kindle is great for travel reading, I do love a physical book, so I appreciated the chance to read it that way.

It's 1998 and Paloma's father, Santiago, announces that he has been named the next UN ambassador from Argentina. At a celebration party in their home in New York, a guest has a cryptic conversation with Paloma that sparks her interest in her father's past. When he won't answer her question, Paloma decides to use their trip back to Buenos Aires for her father's official appointment ceremony to dig into it on her own. She meets a local university student named Franco, who is a member of an activist group called H.I.J.O.S., whose members are all children of the 1970s dictatorship's desaparecidos. With Franco's help and connections, Paloma starts to unravel her family's history, and as she discovers that there is a *lot* more to it than she'd ever known (and as readers, we watch that story unfold in 1976, in parallel with Paloma's sleuthing), things in the "present day" take a turn for the dangerous.

This was a fairly typical set-up, as far as the parallel past and present unfolding of stories that is fairly common with historical fiction these days. As we get the current day story of Paloma learning more about her father and his past in Argentina, we are able to get glimpses at what that actually looked like at the time, in addition to Paloma's wonderings about it. It's a nice way to fully flesh out the stories and characters without having to rely too heavily on assumption or interpretation, if also a bit predictable as far as "twists" and "discoveries" go. I mean, you know the "plucky present-day MC" is going to "uncover truths from the past that change everything she thinks she knows." However, it was really well paced. I enjoyed the short chapters back and forth; it made it easy to fly through the story. And the "aha" moments were timed well and with solid frequency. I do wish the writing itself was a slightly higher quality - and really that was my biggest gripe with the novel. I actually didn't mind the stereotypical plot devices, as once I realized that's what it was setting up to be, I settled into that. But the writing felt a bit jumpy and kind of juvenile as far as style and language choice/sentence structure. And the dialogue was uneven - sometimes it was really good and other times it felt stilted and forced. Like the right emotions there were right, but the words being used were just...unrealistic…and made the relationship development feel less genuine. There was just so much, topically and thematically, about this book that was so important and I hate that it got lost at times, for me, in the "meh" writing.

Let me take the rest of this review to talk about those topics and themes that were so important. Because Clark has shone a literary fiction spotlight on a period of history that is recent enough to know be actually in history classes, and so purposefully downplayed to make an attempt to forget it, that it needs this kind of light to bring it to/keep it on humanity's radar. I know a bit about the "Dirty War" in Argentina (and the general slew of similar dictatorship-disappearances in South America during this same time period), but mostly from my own studies and a few other novels (a phenomenal one, about 1977 Uruguay, is Cantoras - not just amazing on this time period/topic, but also just overall one of my favorite books - gorgeously written, heartbreaking and hopeful). But everything has always been from the perspective of those that lived through it. I was so intrigued by this novel that is telling the story, at least in part, from the narrative perspective of the children of the desaparecidos. Those youth suffered trauma in so many different ways and, in many cases, still have no closure about what happened to their parents/family members, but with the general lack of effort on the part of...the world, really...to persecute the supporters of the dictatorships, the people that tortured and killed their families, and the overall trend towards trying to bury memories of these dark parts of a country's history, have to pretend to live their regular lives like everything is fine. And I cannot imagine that kind of heartbreak and strain. Especially now that those children are full-on adult ages, this felt like such a new and unique perspective and one that I appreciated getting insight into.

In addition, learning about the illegal adoption situations that happened for children born to people while they were detained, and thinking about how many of them will never even know their true origin stories (a similar concept was explored in The Tenth Muse to great emotional effect as well)...it's a lot to sit with and process. And I love the focus Clark puts on wanting justice and knowledge and for the world to remember what they grew up unable to talk about. It's intense and heartbreaking, but also strong and inspiring. With all that in mind, and in considering that the final chapters do talk, with detail, about the kidnapping and torture and childbirth trauma of a female character, I feel that it is important to give content warnings to potential readers.

I also want to mention that, while there could definitely have been a bit more nuance to the discussion, Clark does a passable job acknowledging how class/money/prestige/priorities/access can protect and insulate one against injustice, showing how people experience the same historical events in dramatically different ways depending on their individual reality. And also how, sometimes, even wealth and status is not enough to protect you; a great message about trying to take a stand and do more while you have the chance to, honestly. There was also an interesting look at how sometimes secrets stay buried and memories are purposefully suppressed, even though perhaps the truth/honesty would be more beneficial than anything else, because some people would rather forget than experience the pain of remembering. Decisions like that affect so many more people/relationships than just an individual, and it's always important to remember that (before it's too late - as we saw a bit of here).

A fascinating read about both the recent history of Argentina itself and the ways it impacts the people of Argentina (and beyond) in the present. The characters' stories were intense and affecting, their development compelling. Though the emotional responses I had were watered down by writing itself, which was disappointing, I really appreciated the perspectives that were given voice throughout this novel, and was kept invested in the story with the plot-pacing and unfolding storylines.

Content Warnings

The Guncle

Steven Rowley

4.0

emotional funny hopeful lighthearted reflective medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Character

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Complicated

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

This was a summer release from last year that I found at a used bookstore and grabbed on a whim. I'm not always into this type of read, but every once in a while a good uplifting book is necessary. And as a last hurrah as summer turns to autumn, the time was right.

When Patrick's best friend, Sarah, dies after a battle with cancer and Sarah's husband (Patrick's brother) confesses that he struggles with addiction and wants to check into rehab, Patrick is saddled with his niece and nephew, Maisie and Grant, for the summer. As the two kids get settled in with Gay Uncle Patrick (or GUP), they work together to overcome grief both new (the loss of their mother) and old (Patrick's great love). And against his expectations, Patrick finds himself warming to the uniquities of the kids, as they, in turn, learn from his eccentricities.

Oh my heart. Oh the humanity. This book is like, exactly what a movie billed as “the feel good film of the year” would make you feel. It walks that perfect line of heart-warming family and healing vibes (the kind that make you cry happy tears), with the humor and sarcasm that are pure entertainment. I listened to the audiobook, which the author reads himself, and the tone was just right. I could not stop listening. Patrick's interactions with the kids, as the childless, single, well-off and kinda famous but a bit recluse-y, with some of those well-worm but loved gay stereotypes (unconventional clothing, drinks by the poolside, a love of old movies and theater, etc.) are so funny. His comfort in who he is, leaning into his outside the "norm" existence, allows for so much self-acceptance for his niece and nephew, especially Maisie, as she is beginning her journey through puberty/adolescence, that it was almost too wholesome to bear. But it's balanced nicely with Patrick's sarcasm and snark, his willingness to speak with them like they're mini adults, gives a level of validation to them that is deeply necessary as they heal. And the way that their presence re-opens Patrick's own heart, allowing him to find a way to accept his own losses, the ones he has been hiding away from the world and wallowing in for years, is beautiful.

There are some other aspects of the novel, like how well Patrick's adult relationships with his siblings is written, the budding romantic relationship that he finds after finally coming back out in society (as it were), and his first efforts in years to rekindle his acting career, now that there are reasons in his life again, that were also lovely. They added depth to the development of Patrick's character and the overall story that were necessary, that were a major part of what made it as great as it was. But they were also not as central as Grant and Maisie and Patrick as GUP, and so I will mention them briefly, but bring it back around at the end.

Honestly, this is one of those books that the journey of reading is, in itself, the prize. I don't need a long review to list it all, or many words of reflection on the plot or anything, because they will all just continue to highlight the heartbreakingly human way that grief and emotional processing happen, and how we cannot do it alone. I chuckled (so many times) and shed a few tears, and overall, I really recommend this "feel good" read the next time you're in the mood for one.

“Grief orbits the heart. Some days the circle is greater. Those are the good days. You have room to move and dance and breathe. Some days the circle is tighter. Those are the hard ones.”

“He had lived a life, and survived it.”

Content Warnings

Of Women and Salt

Gabriela Garcia

4.0

challenging emotional reflective medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

This has such an intriguing and poetic title! Plus, I'm always interested in small/short novels like this - it seems like there is not enough space to make an impact and yet often these are some of the most intense and insightful reads. (I'm thinking of Convenience Store Woman as another that, for all its brevity, made a major impression.) So yea, I wanted to check this one out.

Of Women and Salt follows an intergenerational line of women from two families. The first focuses, in the present day, on Jeanette, a Cuban-American living in Miami, struggling with addiction, who attempts to find herself by traveling to Cuba to learn more about her family's history. Jeanette's mother, Carmen, is dealing with coming to terms with her daughter's reality, while steadfastly leaving her past, the time she spent raised in Cuba, in the past. Carmen's mother, Dolores, remains in Cuba, having done her level best to protect her daughters from the turmoil around them (internal to their family and external in Cuba) as they were growing up. And even further back, we learn of the more historic beginnings of Jeanette's family, back in the late 1800s when Cuba fought for independence from Spain. Jeanette's family story is interwoven with that of Gloria and her daughter Ana, who is taken in by their neighbor, Jeanette, for a short time (on a whim), when Gloria is taken by ICE and Ana is dropped off at an empty home after school. From Cuba to Miami to Mexico to a detention center in Texas, this novel follows women, telling the stories of mothers and daughters over generations, as they survive and live.

Let me start with the writing. It was gorgeous. I listened to a short interview between the author and Roxane Gay at the end of the audiobook and it turns out that Garcia also writes poetry and you can absolutely tell. The writing has a rhythm to it that is both effortless and literary, and the combination gives a gorgeous flow. There were also a few standout moments for me, like the imagery of paralleled birth and death by gunfire (in defense of freedom/liberty), that were particularly searing. The title itself, as I mentioned, is part of what pulled me to this book to begin with, and it delivers on that promise. The ways that the salt of women – sweat, tears, oceans, attitudes – are portrayed throughout, both literally and metaphorically, is poignant. I will say that there were a times where the writing (the POV, the style, a non-linear temporal progression) changed from chapter to chapter, as there were a variety of voices narrating this story. It sometimes made the novel feel more like a connection of interconnected short stories that a single compiled story, which could be off-putting. I think in the end, the rest of what I loved made up for that bit of separation/jumpiness.

Topically, this was a very impactful read, tackling the complexities of intergenerational trauma, domestic abuse, colonialism, addiction, immigration and border-crossing and ICE/deportation. And in such a short work, I was deeply impressed with the nuance with which each was handled. There was depth to each character’s experience that had me fully connected to each, even though our time spent with each was so short. It really helped, I think, that each character’s time in focus give insight to their life, as well as providing insight for a few of the other as well. Lovely dimension. And the language used to describe some of these concepts, questions like “does loss unspoken become an inherited trait?” and observations like “even the best mothers in the world, can’t always save their daughters” and “there is no ‘minor’ in abuse,” no spectrum…it was all just truly on point.

Overall, the way Garcia portrays the cycle of women (and motherhood roles, in particular) is incredibly discerning. She pinpoints how they fail each other and how they make up for it elsewhere. How sometimes even that isn’t enough and, in the end, forgiveness and reuniting don’t happen because the gulf is too big. How even though (each and every time) there is a shared goal of something better/more, the difference in the definitions and abilities to achieve it are different enough to create an insurmountable gulf. It hits in the feels in so many ways, universal in emotion despite the specificity of the individual lives. A lovely short read that definitely embodies the particular power and sorrow of women.

"I want to know who I am, so I need to know who you've been."

“If safe were a place, it would look nothing like any of the options, and I want to scream but I swallow, I want to claw but I smile, because I need to seem good.”

“Motherhood: question mark, a constant calculation of what-if.”

“What kind of fear is credible? There are so many kinds of fear.”

“...there are no real rules that govern why some are born in turmoil and others never know a single day in which the next seems an ill-considered bet. It's all lottery, Ana, all chance. It's the flick of a coin, and we are born.”

“Why? Why dwell, why talk, what good would it do? She had mastered a life without unearthing her own horror stories [...] the past haunted only if you let it.”

“As if anything were about beauty. Or want.”

“…how will I survive, and then the day after that, how will I survive, and when will I stop feeling exhausted from all the surviving?”

“For so long, she'd had a different story about her own trajectory. She marveled at the way memory became static history, this thing so easily manipulated and shaped by her own desires.”

“Women? Certain women? We are more than we think we are. There was always more.”

Content Warnings

Betty

Tiffany McDaniel

5.0

challenging dark emotional reflective sad slow-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Character

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

I’m not sure what made me pick this one up. I know it was a while ago that it came across my radar, because at the time, I put in a request with the library for them to purchase the audiobook, since none of my local ones had it. And I know myself…whatever review said this was amazing that made me want to read it, it also gave enough detail that I knew I’d need the audio to move me through it. Lyrical writing is wonderful, but I prefer to listen to it, to help me keep moving and not get all caught up in the words and reading pace so slow that it’s discouraging and I want to stop. So anyways, I requested the audiobook be purchased…and it took so long for that to happen that I forgot I had requested it. When I got an email saying it was ready for me, it was a super random (happy) surprise!

Betty is a coming-of-age novel centered on the titular character, Betty. Born to a white mother and a Cherokee father, raised in rural Ohio during, at least for the majority of the time this novel focuses on, the 1960s, Betty’s family is everything to her. Though her older brother, Leland, is off on his own now, she is very close to the rest of her siblings: Fraya, musical and quiet and the oldest left in the home, Flossie, close to her age and exact opposite in temperament, Trustan, and artist and adventurous younger brother, and young Lint, sweet and thoughtful but with a speech disability and some other peculiarities that set him apart. And then there’s her parents, her mother, Alka, who swings between being nurturing and harmful towards her children, and her father, Landon, who tells her stories and encourages her and keeps their family moving forwards and teaches them all connection with the earth and their Cherokee traditions. Betty herself is a budding writer, a young girl who is searching for her place in the world, sees and hears (perhaps) more than she should, and struggles with some of the prescribed rights and wrongs that she sees and how the reality of them doesn’t always fit (or play out as) she feels they should, morally. We take a meandering, thoughtful, and sometimes traumatic journey through Betty’s early life with her and watch as her experiences shape the adult that she decides to become.

That was a super character-expositive description of this novel, because honestly, the characters are its everything. I mean, things happen, sure: some dramatic, some heartbreaking, some frustrating, and some deeply sweet and touching. But also, what happens is all just…life. Like there is no plot twist or framing story or anything like that, rather it’s just the same day-to-day and year-to-year survival and occasional flourishing that I am sure we can all find common ground in, when looking back at the “mundanity” that is each person’s individual life story. And yet, this is one of the most compelling stories of “just life” that I’ve ever read. Each of Betty’s family members is unique and nuanced in their development and characterization, each with their own quirks of the type that are often shown only to those closest to you. And each with their own bright spots and trials and tragedies.

To this end, it must be noted that this book comes with myriad content warnings, vivid and impossibly-difficult descriptions of violence, suicide attempt/mental illness, racism, child sexual abuse (and the resulting lifelong trauma of that, and many of the ways it can manifest), substance misuse, animal and child death, and likely more that I am missing. While the opening two thirds of the story and development hold the edges of darkness, the foreshadowing of terrible secrets threatening to spill out, when it finally overflows onto the page, the starkness of one traumatic event after another, makes the final third a jump from tragedy to tragedy that almost became too hard to continue to witness. This is not a reading to be undertaken lightly.

As to the writing, it was every bit as lyrical as I’d been promised. Interestingly, it was even a soft sort of lyricism, one that lulled the reader into a sense of comfort through the deep and pervasive sense of place (physical location and in belonging with a family/home), despite the darkness and intensity of many of the topics and realities it touched on. It must be said that a major reason for that softness came from the presence of Betty’s father, Leland. The space he held while on-page throughout this novel was a tangible one, balancing the harshness of everything else with the safety in a father’s support and love, shown through his actions and words; his stories, of nature and Cherokee culture and more, were simply of a gorgeous and expansive imagination. They carried you away, as the reader, and you could see how they could also help Betty, and the rest of her siblings, figure out surviving too. Watching Leland’s stories show Betty a way to deal with and process that complex mix of being poor, female, indigenous (darker-skinned than her classmates and most of her siblings too) was emotional, but in the kind of good heart-squeezing way, where you know it’s not actually fixing things, but at the same time, it’s giving her a lifeline.

This was a devastating reading experience. It’s an ode to a place, the nature and land of Ohio’s hills and woods. It’s a nod to the women, the indigenous peoples, the reality of poverty, and any combinations therein, that have survived these myriad sufferings. It’s haunting in its cruelty, but also in the shine-through moments of family and belonging and natural beauty. This is a sort of family saga, but zoomed in on a single character, during the few years of her growing up that shaped her the most. It’s a sort of origin story for Betty, on that held that sort of folklore-ish feel to the writing, both for Betty and, truly, for the mythical place her father held in her life. I realized that in that last few lines, which were downright perfect, by the way, as they both ended and began something, the way any good legend does.

“But you can only lie to yourself for so long before it wears ya down.”

“My father used to say when a child is born, their very first breath is sent on the wind to become a plant or insect, a creature of feathers, fur, or scales. He would say that this human and this life are bound together as a reflection of one another. 'There are folks always reachin' for the sky, too large for our world, like giant sequoias [...] Some people are as beautiful and soft as peonies, others as hard as a mountain. You'll come across those who are so unforgettable, they'll leave a rash on your memory as poison ivy does your skin. [...] Like spiders, [...] there are folks who can't stop spinnin' webs in life, either through the work of their tongues or through the work of their hands. [...] But too many are as bothersome as pesky attic flies. [...] You'll need to watch out for those who spread gossip as easily as dandelions spread their seed [...] But really keep an eye on the ones who live on decay, like the fungus that grows on hurt or weak trees."

"Everything we need to live a life as long as we're allowed has been given to us in nature [...] That's not to claim if you eat this plant, you will never die, for the plant itself will one day die, and you are no more special than it. All we can do is try to heal the things that can be healed and ease the complaints of the things that cannot be. At the very least, we bring the earth inside us and restore the knowledge that even the smallest leaf has a soul.”

"I realized then that not only not only did Dad need us to believe his stories, we needed to believe them as well. To believe in unripe stars and eagles able to do extraordinary things. What it boiled down to was a frenzied hope that there was more to life than the reality around us. Only then could we claim a destiny we did not feel cursed to.”

“Women [...] God made us from the rib of man. That has been our curse ever since. Because of it, men have the shovel and we have the land. It's right between our legs. There, they can bury all their sins. Bury 'em so deep, no one knows about 'em except for them and us.”

“Boys are like that. Always tryin' to pretend they're savin' girls from somethin'. They never seem to realize, we can save ourselves.”

"Why we have to bleed to earn it? [...] What happens when we get old and it stops? What then? We stop bein' a woman? Ain't the blood that defines us. It’s our soul.”

“My sister was just another girl doomed by politics and ancestral texts that say a girl's destiny is to be wholesome, obedient, and quietly attractive, but invisible when need be. Nailed to the cross of her own gender, a girl finds herself between the mother and the prehistoric rib, where there's little space to be anything other than a daughter who lives alongside sons but is not equal to them. These boys who can howl like tomcats in heat, pawing their way through a feast of flesh, never to be called a slut or a whore like my sister was.”

“When a man is buried, that should be the end of his sins, don’t you think?”

“I think between the two of them they could have been pretty good at love. Too bad grief made myths of everything.”

“I had spent the majority of my coming-of-age desiring to see a different reflection. I could either abandon the doubts I beheld and be free, or else dwell in the eye of the prejudied, to be chained there. There are too many enemies in life to be one of yourself.”

“I had come to realize that buried secrets are just seeds that grow more sin.”

“No matter how beautiful the pasture, it is the freedom to choose that makes the difference between a life lived and a life had.”

“A girl comes of age against the knife, Betty. [...] But the woman she becomes must decide if the blade will cut deep enough to rip her apart or if she will find the strength to leap with her arms out and dare herself to fly in a world that seems to break like glass around her. May you have the strength.”

Content Warnings

Misrule

Heather Walter

4.0

adventurous dark hopeful tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

Well, the library *finally* got this second book in the duology! I mean, it's not their fault it took so long - there's been tons of issues with our supplier - but I was thrilled to get my hands on it because I have been eagerly awaiting this conclusion after loving the dark turn the ending took in the first book.

At the end of Malice, we are left with the visual of Alyce having shifted into a dragon and essentially destroying all of Briar after one too many betrayals...and of course, Aurora is in her cursed sleep situation. Misrule pretty quickly jumps the reader 100 years forwards in time...Aurora is still asleep, but Alyce has rebranded herself as Nimara and is now the leader of the Dark Court, having waged a decades-long war against the Fae for revenge, and to free and bring together all the "ugly" creatures (shifters, demons, imps, goblins, etc.) in one place, one home, again. Other than Aurora still being asleep, things are pretty much perfect for Nimara. However, when a human, Derek, washes up on the Dark Court's shores, and Aurora is finally awoken, Nimara/Alyce will have to figure out how to keep the home she made for her outcast brethren, win Aurora back (she may or may not have overly embraced the "monster" side of herself while Aurora was asleep), and contend with quite a bit of back-stabbing and secret plots and ulterior motives...plus her own insecurities that just won't seem to let her go. Oh, and there's the powerful vila, Mortania, whose spirit is still very alive and strong within her.

This story was nonstop from start to finish. And I mean that in the "there are battles and death" way, of course, but also in the "constant scheming and secrets-coming-out" way too. There were so many twists, small and large, throughout that I have to admit, a few times I did get a bit lost in them. I actually want to start here, to get my few criticisms out of the way early, because for the most part I had a truly great time reading this. I know I mentioned in the first book how some of the background info about the realms and history of Briar and Malterre and the Fae, etc. all seemed a bit confusing and underdeveloped. And I know I didn't do myself any favors by picking up this second book so long after the first and without a reread, but I have to be honest and say that I didn't get it all as cleared up as I would have liked. There was definitely some clarity, but after a while I ended up stopping trying to figure it all out and to just go with the vibes and flow of the story. That was the right call, and made the reading experience more fun, but definitely I would have loved a little cleaner, clearer world-building. With that, and possibly this didn't help my world-building confusion, there were (as I said) many twists and allegiance switches (both real and fake) that I found myself a bit turned around a few times. Plus, in general, I did feel like many of the characters other than Alyce were fairly surface/type-cast. In particular, there was one new character, Regan, who I mostly enjoyed reading because, to be honest, I couldn't get a bead on her...and when her finale arrived, I liked the way it went, and why, but the writing of it al it unfolded throughout the second half of the novel felt a bit forced on it's way there. It was a weird feel and I really wanted to like it, objectively I did, but subjectively it just felt a little off the whole time.

One last note here, that is related in my head. Alyce spent her whole life being mistreated and lied to and manipulated...and yet continues to not be able to spot it or be suspicious of it where she should be. Now, I know there was some interesting commentary here on one's inner voice and insecurities and how strong they are, but still, after so much duplicity, you'd think she'd be at least marginally more suspicious of everyone, and not just a random few. It seemed very inconsistent, who she chose to believe and who she chose to alienate, and how hard she dug into those, even after myriad experiences to (or being straight up told) the contrary. Minus Aurora, of course, because, ahhhh the blinding power of love (and everlasting hope of belonging), but at least Alyce recognized what she was doing, in that case.

Otherwise, even though this second book felt almost like a different style altogether, as compared to the first, I was really into it. I loved that once Walter went dark and intense, she kept it there. There is really no coming back from certain decisions and I appreciated that she didn't try. Plus, the dark and creepy Maleficent vibes (the "uglier" sides of magic and magical creatures) were awesome - brought to life so well and I had some amazing visuals in my mind. Walter made this novel, this second half of Alyce's story, something altogether new. To that end, the 100 year jumps that were made really fit the story. I do think, after so much hurt, that much time is necessary to assuage feelings and realities, before people are prepared to even think about alternative options/paths. And there were some really wonderful messages in there, on that point, about cycles of jealousy, hate, love, power, and fear and how they can all get tangled up and mimic each other - and what it takes to end that type of cycle. Speaking of the end, though the review isn't over yet, this seems like a place to point out that I loved the ending. I mean sure it had the sorta cheesy fantasy "fixing the world threatening issue" plot finale, which was solid, but also, the way Alyce and Aurora's story ended was....perfect. Nothing else would have felt right or been believable for me, and it gave the exact right combination of sweet and longing and matched the cyclical storytelling style with the time parallels to how the beginning.

Let me say more things I liked, because this review started tough, but there was so much I was into! While the overarching retelling remains Sleeping Beauty, of course, I loved the continued shades of other fairy tales and nursery rhymes sprinkled in, as in the first one (Little Mermaid, for one, and Beauty and the Beast again). I thought the disaster that was Aurora waking up was so great, because really, how could it be anything else (even in the original?!) after having been asleep for that long and everything you know falling to ruin? Finally, and a real highlight, was the high quality fantasy-style exploration of how loving an idea/ideal always falls short of reality. And even better, an unpacking of how claiming to love someone and want to change the world when you have the power, but having trouble with the reverse when the power balance is overturned, gave some profound insight on privilege and the comfort of those visually similar to you. There's great meditation on what it is that makes a monster, and how it’s easier to love a "monster" when the power lies with you, versus the other way around. Walter really dived into the conversation about whether those power/privilege barriers are to large to overcome with a single interpersonal connection, and if not, how do you move past that cycle of the previous ~millenia~ of being at odds and power shifting and revenge and what it actually takes to make things right/better.

Although there were some developmental holes and/or a lack of continuation in the quality and depth of the development from the first book (in the world and character aspects), I felt like this was still a spectacular conclusion to the plot and to Alyce and Aurora's story in particular. I had so much fun reading this book. It has that nostalgic fantasy feel to it, mixing the magical/fanciful with metaphors/messages about life, but all of it is "overpowered" by the adventure of the story and the journey the plot takes you on. I felt fully immersed in the world of Briar and the Dark Court throughout both books and that quality escapism was exactly what I wanted/needed. If you are looking for a fantasy escape in your life, let me really recommend this duology!

“It has always interested me the ways in which a tale will change based on who is telling it.”

“Tragedy teaches us things about ourselves and about others. […] Sometimes we do not like what we see. But we have to look anyway. We have to know.”

Content Warnings

More...