This book improved dramatically when encountered in print rather than audio because no one on the page is doing a French accent, which...was a choice made by the narrator in the audio book. Also I spent less time absolutely howling at the main characters for their choices, which is an improvement. If you enjoyed the first book (or even if you were on the fence about it), this book definitely improves and raises the stakes in a way that is super interesting. Part of me still feels like this story is messy and I keep thinking of the wizles rule that we are skeptical of books that posit that queer desire is the revolutionary force. But I'm still curious where this book chooses to go.

Today in books that owe a lot to Tolkien (and also Susan Cooper) and also YA's capacity to go very dark very fast. This was a speedy read with a tight plot that mostly played to both Pacat's and the genre's strengths. I am a bit confused as to why YA ended up with such a body count, though. I somehow feel like adult fiction ends up with fewer bodies sometimes. And this is not a book to read if you don't enjoy playing "spot the influences" but if you do, it feels more like an homage than unconscious recreation and for that I appreciate it.

Pulley's books - and especially settings - are so wild and interesting and odd that I am quite pleased to also discover that she more or less writes the same book every single time.
Also I'm grateful she's finally named that one of her main characters is autistic and I hope she knows that this holds true in every single one of her books. (With, like, the possible exception of The Kingdoms but also Missouri.)
Obviously I loved this; I was looking forward to finally having the time to sit down and read it and it was even weirder than I expected it to be, blending Pulley's extremely careful eye for sociological detail with her usual somewhat bonkers approach to the nature of reality.
The fascinating thing about Pulley as an author is that all of her books ask the question "how can I tell a story where the bad guy is the good guy?" Not the irritating grey morality protagonist is crappy story, but a weirder question: what does the world need to look like for 1) the mastermind pulling and altering the tapestry of history for his own benefit or 2) a member of the KGB or 3) a murdering pirate or 4) (this book) a nationalist leader against immigration.
And the answers are always completely bananas (which is part of the point, of course. The distance between her heroes and the villains who share their ideologies in our world is vast enough to throw into sharp relief how much our versions are the worst), but it's the careful working out of what presumptions of villainy mean and the kinds of people who become and who resist it that makes her books so interesting. Along with, and I cannot stress this enough, the pining.

I resent this book, a little, for being as good as everyone says that it is. It's the kind of interesting that makes me want to say "just read it, I can't describe it" because it keeps doing strange and interesting things with genre conventions and locational assumptions, but also it's a story about the im/possibility of breaking hegemonic power structure because what else is fantasy for?

KJ!
So I absolutely understand why she insists that this book is not a romance because if you go in expecting a normal KJ romance, you will be disappointed. HOWEVER if you go in expecting the complete absence of a love story, you may find yourself pleasantly surprised. Not a Romance, but certainly something of a romantic subplot.
Thank goodness for that.
I do appreciate how this story is sort of a sendup of gentleman detective stories and sort of a sendup of school stories and gave me the same vibes (somehow) Lois Duncan's entire ouevre, but specfically I Know What You Did Last Summer just backwards. That's a compliment.
But also it's KJ Charles so, while it is not at all cozy, it is a particular kind of comforting.

You can definitely tell that this is one of Johnston's earlier books and the seeds of what I really like about her characters is already there. She has a gift for drawing worlds with deft strokes and an eye for writing teenagers in a way that gives them agency without making them or other people around them look absurd.
It was just good fun even if I didn't love it quite as much as some of her more recent work.

I have absolutely no idea how to rate this book so I'm not going to. The perils of operating outside of my field.
Basically I thought this book was fascinating and interesting and just brings so much historical and archeological detail to bear on the topic of what god was like as distinct from our contemporary conception and its antecedents.
And, like, from both a critical and theological perspective, I absolutely appreciated it and really enjoyed it. And I am also always both taken and skeptical of works that are outside of my fields because I don't know what I don't know.
I have two major things and I think the objections come from both the critical and confessional perspective. The first is the thing Tikvah Frymer-Kensky complained about 30 years ago, which is that it's very easy to tell a story that sounds like monotheism invents misogyny and Stavrakopoulou implies that heavily (specifically in the section about nevi'im). And while I have absolutely no desire to defend the misogyny of Tanakh, monotheism did not invent misogyny and the relative freedom of the goddesses should not be taken as a reflection of how women as people were treated either in polytheistic or monotheistic societies. It still sucked to be a woman when and where Ishtar was worshipped. So I found that more than a little frustrating.
The second issue is, in the ire that Stavrakopoulou exhibits against medieval and post-medieval theologians, she ends up making some very odd claims about who has authority over god (or God). That is - at some point, she seems to close the canon of "things you can say about God" right around the geonic period. For centuries, you could adapt the stories of El and Ba'al and Tiamat in a way that leads eventually to the God of the Bible and the Leviathan and that's okay. But to take the next step and say "also God doesn't actually have a nose" is too far. And, like, I DO take her point that theologians of both Judaism and Christianity tend to say "and no one ever thought that in the first place" and that's pretty obviously not true and yet, in her argument against that position, she basically denies the last 1400 or so years of theological arguments that people of faith are making about their own God. From a critical perspective, that's a very odd place to suddenly say people no longer have agency to make observations about the nature of God. From a confessional perspective, it's even stranger because of what it asserts about the God that believers currently are in relationship with.
And it's not Stavrakopoulou's job to build the theological narrative that will make sense out of God's evolution, but I feel like she could have written this book without simply reversing the mistake of the medievalists.

I wanted to like this book so much more than I actually did and I have absolutely no idea what made me bounce off it. It was one of those books that was fine and I just didn't connect to the characters the way I expected to. Which is such a frustrating experience because I can usually point to what it is that makes me not enjoy a book (whether it's about the story or the writing style or the characters) but I just...kept waiting to get properly into this and it never quite came together for me.

A very wonderful Wizles recommendation that means I'm just now excited to read everything else Fellman has written.
The best description I have of this book is "what if The Spear Cuts Through Water met Into Thin Air" but, somehow, a little less depressing than either.
This book is another one that understands why it has a framing device and uses it appropriately to comment on the nature of narrative and the stories we tell ourselves while also making you realize, as a reader, that you could never tell exactly this story without the frame and it's just so good.
Also, I mean, the Holoh are not Jews, but they're not...not Jews either and I mean that as a compliment. And the parallels Fellman draws and, in particular, the way that the dominant religion punishes the Holoh for not following their divine figure and makes a mountain out of a mostly non-event and Fellman uses that (like Arkady Martine in the Tiexcalaan books) to talk about what a people becomes when they are defined by the dominant power that they are not.
It was just so smart and so good and so thoughtful and I loved it so much.

Who doesn't appreciate a good gothic novel? Gloom, evil, lots of fun and exciting terrifying content and the weird liminal space between fantasy and reality.

Maybe the real villains were the privileged people we made along the way?

I definitely would like to see more with these characters.