Guess who read the fan translation at the exact right time! Hell yeah!!!! 

Haha, okay, more seriously, I read Thousand Autumns because I missed reading wuxia. I watched the donghua (cartoon) last year, and quite enjoyed it, so I decided to give the novel a go. Glad I did! Though they have yet to officially announce it, fans founds out that Seven Seas Entertainment bought the English translation rights to Meng Xi Shi’s classic. The fan translations will likely be taken down soon, if they’re not already.

 In 575 CE, three countries war for dominance in the land that will one day become the Middle Kingdom. As their rulers play the game of thrones, so do the members of the marital arts world. Men and women across nations compete for spots on the Top 10 Martial Artist listings. While a tournament is held every decade or so to determine the official ranking, martial artists can duel one another to jockey for position in the meanwhile. One of the top martial sects is the Mount Xuandu, which practices Daoism and maintains isolationist policies. When a well-known member of the Tujue Tribe challenges their sect leader, they answer the call. Said Sect Leader, Shen Qiao, is promptly betrayed, yeeted off a cliff, and carried off by a mysterious martial artist with huge badonkadonks.

Granted, Shen Qiao is blind and has amnesia at this point, but rest assured the badonkadonks are there. I ended my summary paragraph with some humor, because Thousand Autumns be like that. The owner of the fattest tiddies in the land is Yan Wushi, who is a demonic martial artist. He spends most of the novel shoving his huge tits in Shen Qiao’s blind face and asking if A-Qiao would like to go feral yet. To Yan Wushi’s bewilderment, Shen Qiao continues to insist on being nice. Yan Wushi hurts himself in his confusion. Eventually there are kisses, I promise.

The above character relationship dynamic is not an exaggeration, and definitely what initially attracted me to Thousand Autumns. After the first chunk of chapters, however, I had to adjust my mindset. Meng Xi Shi is far more interested in the historical setting and politics. Thousand Autumns isn’t romance with a capital R—this novel is like historical fiction with a love story plot. As an American who has never studied Chinese history, reading all the political machinations was another kind of fun. My brain contained no spoilers! 

As I read, I had two quibbles. One, Meng Xi Shi has a tendency to repeat background information multiple times. Like, well past the point where the info is needed. It felt like word count padding and quite annoying. Two, there’s a criminal lack of female characters. Bai Rong and her journey are a treasure—I appreciated the fleshing out of the “seductive, coquettish female cultivator who wears red” trope. But I would like more. Then again, danmei seems to have very few women as a rule. I did fist-pump the air when Shen Qiao acknowledges that female cultivators face sexism. That felt amazing to read. 

Shen Qiao is star of the show. When my family asked for a quick update on what I was reading, I told them Thousand Autumns is a Chinese historical fiction about the triumph of love and kindness. To me, Shen Qiao embodied that. All the characters, all the kingdoms, experience highs and lows. The karmic cycle proves true, and Shen Qiao rides the waves like no other. I can’t stress enough how much Shen Qiao gets obliterated, how he’s constantly tested and tempted to be selfish and lash out. Instead, he practices empathy, compassion, and charity. It may take tens of chapters, but his good generates good back on himself. In lesser hands, Shen Qiao would descend into a saccharine Pollyanna, but Meng Xi Shi fills his inner and outer world with a vivid interiority. Shen Qiao’s character is not easy or one-dimensional.

While I think the karmic triumph of love is the main theme, other storytelling elements had me curling my toes in happiness. Yan Wushi is the EvilTM type of villain, and I appreciated the surrounding subtextual discussion of righteousness—what is it? What matters more: intentions or actions? Are all actions neutral and the consequences determine if the past act was righteous? Shen Qiao is disabled, and we love a disabled protagonist in this house. We also love an older protagonist, and Meng Xi Shi frequently comments on Yan Wushi and Shen Qiao’s DILF-ness. Though Dumb Husky and his White Cat Shizun has a more complete critique of Daoism, Thousand Autumns pulls its weight. Seeking ascension is most often the privilege of the rich, who don’t have to work for food every day. Selfishly seeking enlightenment is not the answer—it is far better to go out, experience the world, and help who you can. Seeking prestige is boring and useless, as the next generation will always surpass the old. These were all great themes to dig into, and Thousand Autumns used its hefty page count well.

While it was different from what I expected, Thousand Autumns is a fantastic read. I’d especially recommend it to anyone looking for a historical fiction about early medieval China with a gay romance B Plot. If you’re looking for exclusively danmei, I recommend watching the donghua. The cartoon streamlines the politics and focuses more on Yan Wushi and Shen Qiao’s relationship—plus gives a great visual for those badonkadonks. 

After loving Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic, I clicked through the library audiobook catalogue for a solid twenty minutes trying to find anything that could hold a candle to MUSHROOM PEOPLE. Happily, Nothing But Blackened Teeth was available and took me on a whole new adventure.

The strain of new adulthood can tear any friend group apart. The friends of Nothing But Blackened Teeth have taken aggravated damage. After a stint in a mental institution, Cat feels ready to have fun with her clique again. Her longtime-bestie-once-ex-boyfriend Faiz is marrying the woman of his dreams, Talia, but Talia may not share that dream. Talia’s jealous because she thinks Cat has lingering romantic feelings for Faiz, which is ironic because Cat actually has a little bisexual crush on her. Adding sides to this love polygon are the jokester Lin (who may have feelings for Cat) and golden boy Philip (whose gaze lingers too long on Talia). In typical rich boy fashion, Phillip has thrown money at the situation. In a gesture of ostentatious wealth, he’s masterminded an all expenses paid wedding for Faiza and Talia, including first class plane tickets to a Heian Period mansion in rural Japan. The group used to love going ghost-hunting in their Malaysian hometown, and the mansion is haunted, so that’s not too intense of a gift, right?

WHEW, I feel like the telenovela narrator after speed-running a season recap. The queer drama is on HIGH in this novella. In fact, the friends are often too wrapped up in their own drama to notice the manor is haunted. The ghost is visibly disappointed. She worked hard on her haunting techniques, okay! I chuckled, though of course the chuckling turned to gasps of shock by the end. Though Cat and the others are delightfully genre-savvy, knowing the genre isn’t enough to avoid a grisly fate. Also doesn’t help that the ghost bride waits until they’re super duper drunk to attack, haha.

Khaw hides some wonderful broodings under the layers of hijinks. The horror genre’s historical racism, homophobia, and ableism simmer. Khaw’s main preoccupation seems to be what does one do when the apologies and atonement aren’t enough—what happens to the leftover rage? Experiencing the bride and her haunted house is not a recommended route for growth, but it does the job. Seeing the characters move on was an incredibly satisfying, well-earned ending.

What keeps Nothing But Blackened Teeth from 5 stars is the sheer weight of similes. Bizarre thing to say, I know. I love poetic language usually. However, especially in the beginning when the new reader’s trying to get their bearings, every other sentence was an extended simile. It was too much. While the similes are beautiful, some darlings need to be killed for the sake of grounding the reader in the world as it is. Not what it’s like.

Overall though: little horror novella, my beloved. Nothing But Blackened Teeth is worth biting into.

Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic has stared at me from shelves across the country. I knew in a vague sense that I liked classic Gothic stories, and Mexican Gothic is an obvious starting place for the modern genre. I mean, it’s in the title. After reading A Lesson in Vengeance by Victoria Lee, my vague feelings solidified into “oh I really like this genre.” Even as I made this mental pivot, I knew I had to read Mexican Gothic already.

Witty, beautiful, and charming, Noemí Taboada lives a lustrous, lavish life among twentieth century Mexico’s crème de la crème. She enjoys fashion, food, and good conversation as much as the next debutante, but her father cites these “frivolous” ways as a reason to not send her to university. When he offers to finally consent to her anthropology degree if she visits her married cousin, Noemí seizes the chance. Should be easy right? Except her cousin is embroiled in High Place, a country mansion haunted by its past colonial glories, murderous history, and mushrooms.

MUSHROOM PEOPLE. Mexican Gothic is perfectly paced and perfectly creepy. As I reached the end, I felt compelled to screech on Twitter about it. The humid atmosphere is so vivid you can taste it on your tongue. I adored Noemí as a character and protagonist—socialites aren’t usually detectives, but her mastery of social cues and norms helped turn things in her favor. Virgil is wonderfully twisted, and Moreno-Garcia’s work has many, many twists. The entwining of colonialism and eugenics fits so perfectly within the Gothic genre. Mexican Gothic is superb on its own, but reading it directly after The Haunting of Hill House teased out the homages. I listened to the audiobook, and the voice actor performed exceptionally—my only complaint is I would like more please. I’m very eager to read (or listen) to Moreno-Garcia’s other works.

If you like Gothic literature—classic or modern, it doesn’t matter—you must read Moreno-Garcia’s brilliant novel. Drop whatever you’re doing and go. 

To me, Shirley Jackson is a bastion of the USA’s horror genre. As Octavia Butler is to the USA’s science fiction landscape, Jackson is to all dark and spooky Americana. I loved the slow creep of We Have Always Lived in the Castle. After enjoying Netflix’s adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House earlier this year, my bookish head turned back in Jackson’s direction. What do you know: this classic was available on library audiobook.

Dr. Montague is an anthropologist who believes equally in the scientific method and the occult. He’s determined to prove the supernatural exists and determined to do so under laboratory conditions. In pursuit of this lofty academic goal, he rents the haunted Hill House for a hot girl summer. He invites the mercurial Theo, the sensitive Nell, and the playboy Luke as corroborators, experts, and assistants. Possibly on the rocks with her live-in girlfriend, Theo is a lesbian artist and antique shop owner, who once predicted the order of a stack of playing cards. Dr. Montague hopes her possible paranormal abilities will “excite” the spirits of Hill House and/or she’ll help discern them. This reason is also why he invites Nell, who may (or may not) have caused rocks to fall from the sky when her father died. Luke is the heir to Hill House and present upon his aunt’s request—maybe ghosts will stop him from having a scandal every two minutes, haha. In any case, the moment the group sets foot upon the grounds, Hill House protests violently. Illusions, shakes, cold spots, knocking noises, phantom puppy dogs—we got it all.

Once the premise is set, the POV switches to Nell and stays there, for she is the real protagonist of the story. I felt so deeply for her and in her saw so much of myself. Though I enjoy a much healthier relationship with my family, I vividly remember when I first escaped their care and fumbled my way through social encounters with Nell’s same terrified anxiety. Her adolescent self-centeredness; her anxious quest to “be normal” and have somewhere to belong; her desire to be seen as not-a-child; her escape to the imagination, the parade of identity masks, and external observation/disassociation with her body—I was not expecting to be so seen by a haunted house novel. 

And that’s not even getting into the baby queer elements! From the get-go, Nell’s social anxiety and desire war with each other. On the one hand, Hill House is a strange place, populated by strange people. Set adrift, she craves the familiar. On the other hand, she’s desperate for acceptance, for a way to keep these wonderous strangers in her orbit. She scrambles for what her experience has taught her to be an inescapable tie, written in the blood—family. Nell’s narration refers to Dr. Montague as father, to Luke as a betrothed, and Theo as a sister. As the novel continues, this general want for deeper connection then solidifies and narrows onto Theo. Theodora transforms from “sister” to special friend (because we’re not ready for the lesbian word, haha). Luke is regulated to the role of cousin and rival. I had so many flashbacks to college, when I was figuring out my queerness and made family trees out of my friend group. Even the way Nell loves Theo pinged remembrances in my brain. By turns, Nell glorifies and casts down Theo with a corrupted sort of admiration. As much as I love a love story, this more bizarre and unstable relationship suited the situation. Nell doesn’t necessarily love Theo the individual. She loves the ideas Theo represents—living an independent, queer happiness and peaceful fulfillment.

Besides heavily identifying with Nell, the setting consumed me. I laughed so much in this book! An alternate title could be “The Roasting of Hill House." The narration and characters are so mean to the dark wood Victorian Manor aesthetic. They troop around the House insulting its décor, corners, and gall to exist. My “any horror is 3 to 5 sentences from a comedy” theory gained much fodder. The narration signaled that Nell was fully possessed by the House because she complimented it! More seriously, the setting descriptions were achingly beautiful and achingly creepy. The Haunting of Hill House is a beautiful, beautiful novel.

And uuuuuugh! The pacing! The suspense! The scares! The decadent indulgence in tropes! SO GOOD!

If there was a way to rate a novel over 5 stars, I would. Jackson weaves a gorgeous tale in her signature stark prose. Her characters, her themes, her plot, and her atmosphere grip you by the bones. Shirley Jackson is the Queen of Horror, and long may she reign.

My review of We Have Always Lived in the Castle: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/6dbb7fb7-b494-4081-a7bf-d969b58df2e0

After adoring The Scum Villian’s Self-Saving System, I wanted more. Heaven Official’s Blessing seemed a good second foray into the danmei and xianxia genre. It had a high page count, so I would be occupied for awhile. 

I was not.

Because wow??? Heaven Official’s Blessing is so cute, so wholesome, and so devastating that I devoured it lightening fast. Two thousand pages disappeared in a blink. Like Scum Villain before it, the Blessing version I read was an unofficial fan translation. Also like Scum Villain, I neglected to review the novel as a whole, so I thought I’d review it volume by volume as I read the official English translations. Which I’m buying. We’re going to have a whole danmei shelf y’all.

You know that joke “did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” Well, Xie Lian knows the answer (yes, it hurts a lot). Once a god of war, our cheerful, easy-going protagonist is now a humble scrap-collector. But his luck is so bad he can’t even recycle in peace! Other immortals assign him dangerous missions, filled with jealous murder, bride-snatching, scorpion-snakes, and worst of all—his own past. Along the way Xie Lian meets the mysterious San Lang, who has an oddly persistent interest in him…. 

I could heap praise after praise on this book. Xie Lian is a magnificent character, who I wish a younger me could meet. He’s the epitome of the choosing to be kind in a harsh world. While we don’t get a whole lot of the other male lead, Hua Cheng, yet, he steals the scene when he’s present. It’s the first volume, and they’re already in their own little love bubble. Re-reading added riches to riches. Like in her other work, MXTX has her characters give each other “odd looks” or small, unexplained exchanges. Re-readers can fill in these blanks and feel very clever. The writing device works extra well in Blessing due to the running theme of things not being as they seem.

Speaking of secrets and who’s who, I would like to thank the Character & Name Guide for my life. The sheer amount of plot and characters, even in this single volume, is A Lot. While the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation and The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System deal with marital art sect(s) over a couple decades, Heaven Official’s Blessing spans dimensions, nations, and 800 years of backstory. When the blurb says “epic historical fantasy,” they’re not kidding. If you’ve watched the donghua (cartoon), Volume 1 hits the same plot beats: intro, Ghost Bride/General Xuan Ji arc, meeting San Lang, Ban Yue arc, and receiving Hua Cheng’s ring. If you want spoilers or reminders of secrets and shenanigans, there’s a very good fan wiki: https://heaven-officials-blessing.fandom.com/wiki/Heaven_Officials_Blessing_Wiki

While I didn’t read it page for page, the back matter is full of invaluable information for newbies. I’m astounded all over again the lengths the translators are going to make modern Chinese literature accessible for English readers. The illustrations are gorgeous, making the book on its own a piece of art.

Due to its sheer scale, I’m not sure I would recommend Heaven Official’s Blessing to people totally unfamiliar with xianxia and danmei. Though the back matter provides floaties, it’s still like diving right into the deep end. Still, if you enjoy epic historical fantasy, you’re going to love Xie Lian and Hua Cheng’s story.

My review of The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, Vol 1: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/f797e4a5-9dc6-4810-bedd-0b2704a871b0

The Last Sun was far removed from my milieu until my friend Jules started gushing about it. In a game of queer telephone, their friend loved the series, got Jules to read it, and Jules talked about it so much that I wanted to read the Tarot Sequence so I could know what they’re talking about it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve received a book rec this way, and I’m really glad I answered the call. Despite some problems, The Last Sun was a comforting read.

The Masquerade has long since fallen, and it’s all because of the mages. A cataclysm of a world war made it impossible for the magical denizens to hide any longer. After the fighting destroyed their hidden hometown of Atlantis, mages up and moved to Nantucket, Massachusetts—by which I mean they literally teleported entire buildings from famous cities, infrastructure and all, to a tiny island off the USA East Coast. If this sounds a tad mad, imagine having first hand knowledge of mage politics’ lethality, like Rune St. John. Nowadays, this last Scion of the Sun House is a private investigator and mercenary struggling to pay his cable bill. When he receives an assignment to find a missing heir, Rune gets a lot more than he bargained for as he’s plunged once again into this magical game of thrones.

The Last Sun ticks a lot of boxes for me. It’s urban fantasy, for one, and mage society is queer-normative, for another. The motif of the Arcana is a big yes. Rune has a queerplatonic life partner named Brand, who reminds me a lot of Bucky Barnes, whomst I adore. Brand serves as Rune’s Companion, and the concept behind Companions intrigues me greatly. Basically, they’re humans who are raised alongside mage children, act as the mage’s bodyguard, and share an emotional telepathy with their assigned mage. Think the bond between married Vulcans, or maybe Sentinel and Guide. Except the Guide’s the one with superpowers and the Sentinel broods over them like a hen, haha. Anyway, I love that shit.

Overall, the world-building could use some tightening. The Last Sun’s pace is quite quick, and the action is pretty non-stop. Reading a fast-paced urban fantasy was refreshing, and Edwards slips in relevant world-building as needed. However, it got a little annoying that by the end of the book, I still didn’t know all the relevant lore. Some world-building points also raised questions. Do all mages need Companions and sigils? The government consists of a Convocation, Arcana Houses, Domains, and Thrones—how does that work? I texted Jules to ask, but other readers don’t have that luxury.

There’s an incredibly confusing sentence on page 16: “We’re a society, after all, that embraces the idea of group marriage, that finds pure heterosexuality as abnormal as pure homosexuality.” The tone of the sentence made me think Edwards wanted this to be a “Yay!” moment—yay, gay is okay!—but I instead made a “eugh” noise. Saying people must prove their bisexuality…isn’t very queer-positive at all. It seems like Edwards wanted a queer-positive society, but also to discuss homophobia when convenient. For example, the rumor mill calls Rune the “Catamite Prince” for his close relationship to the older Lord Tower. Initially, my pure-of-heart, dumb-of-ass brain thought the rumor teased Rune for being a bottom who likes DILFs, and Edwards wrapped it up in a dildo joke. Rune sure likes those heavenly pillars lol. Later, I figured out the rumors were meant to be negative, for the usual reasons “catamite” is a negative term. 

In addition, Edwards sacrificed a heavier focus on character—Rune, Brand, and their friends are very cool and I wanted to spend more time with them. The Tarot Sequence is supposed to be nine books, and thank God. I wanted more scenes like Brand and Rune in the shower. I’m told the white man sausage fest eases in later books too. Good, because I love women.

The Last Sun does struggle, but the positives far outweigh the negatives. If you’re looking for an Adult gay urban fantasy with mages, I highly recommend the Tarot Sequence. The Hanged Man waits for me at the library.

Incredibly adorable short about our two boys as toddlers. If you want schmoop, here it is!

Here we are: the final book. I don’t think I’ll be reading Rowell again. I’m good. This trilogy is enough, haha.

Any Way the Wind Blows begins days after Wayward Son ended. The gang has been called back to England due to a critical mass of problems forming. Baz’s step-mother, Daphne, has gone missing. Cults of personality have popped up around self-styled Chosen Ones. Penny’s parents finally noticed she’s loose in the USA with a credit card. Agatha’s mental health demands she retrieve her wand. Our beloved characters have some big decisions ahead. Rowell’s descriptor for this book is “an ending about endings. About catharsis and closure, and how we choose to move on from the traumas and triumphs that try to define us.” And ya know what? That’s about right.

I think I’ve figured out an important dividing line with Rowell. She shines with pure, ruthless storytelling skill. She can write a sentence and a paragraph. She can structure a novel. She can create compelling characters. What she has not figured out yet is the socio-political implications of her tales. If stories could exist in a vacuum, the Simon Snow Trilogy would be five stars all the way down. But it doesn’t. Writing doesn’t exist in a blank space, and I want to grab Rowell by the ear and ask wtf she was thinking. Do you know what you’re implying with your words?

As it is, Any Way the Wind Blows left me with a strange melancholy. Rowell touched upon many societal issues and failed to resolve them. It was like minority stress sore spots were poked and prodded for no real reason. The old high-magic families have political clout again in magic society, and they’re undoing the Mage’s laws. Home raids and book burning should be a thing of the past—but the Mage’s insistence that all are welcome at Watford is nicked. That’s bad. Rowell mentions that the Mage’s Men are committing suicide out of shame and despair. There’s an ongoing attempted genocide against vampires. Baz’s home life is as hostile to his queerness/vampirism as ever. In newly upsetting content, blood quantum and magic-white supremacy dovetail with disability rights and mental health, as characters with low magic struggle for equity and Simon struggles with his wings. Anti-Normal racism plunges new depths. These are massive problems on an individual and societal level. Rowell provides no answers nor do her characters go looking for them. Why did I have to read about all these fantasy parallels to real world issues? I didn’t need reminding. I came to escape. There’s a smidgen of hope for the future, but certainly not enough to justify a happy ending. If I had to guess, I think Rowell meant to point towards the conclusion of “do what you can, when you can,” “help whoever enters your sphere of accountability,” or “life sucks, but do your best” but the book’s murky as all get out. I’m stretching too far for these conclusions. 

The two new romances and Agatha’s storyline disappointed me. There are three love subplots in the Trilogy, and they’re all enemies to lovers. I would prefer some variety. Agatha and her journey hit a brick wall for me. After realizing she can’t rely on privilege to protect her, she…continues to do so. True, she strikes out on her own, but I expected, IDK, a training montage at the very least. Sure, she can set things on fire, but she could do that before and it didn’t help. Worse, she chooses a job position that literally killed off the last queer woman to hold it. This decision made me question whether Agatha has grown at all. It felt like she was still setting herself up to be fridged for the next male hero. Where the book leaves her, it feels like Agatha is trapped in her damsel role, and that’s so depressing. The only difference between her and Ebb is that she’s out. Because yes, after insulting her love interest way too much, Agatha falls for a butch lesbian. We STILL don’t see the word bisexual. I screamed.

Like she misses the obvious place to say Simon/Agatha were bi4bi, Rowell also fails to wrap up many plot threads. I don’t know if she meant to write another book or what. The words “Trilogy” stamped all over the cover beg to differ. Some “resolutions” are a single, overheard line of dialogue, which the characters take as FactTM. These moments felt like a cop out and made me gnash my teeth. Here is a list of abandoned plot threads: Baz’s vampire/hunter heritage, the extent of vampire abilities and mage-vampire history, Simon’s wings, Penny living in the USA or UK; how/why is Simon immune to magic. These issues are in addition to the big ones described above.

What gave Any Way the Wind Blows any stars are the characters. Stephen continues to delight. The delayed character growth from Wayward Son happens with impressive speed in this volume. Watching Penny’s journey is marvelous. The kisses and sex scene are wonderfully written, with all the young fumbles in tact. In a moment where we’re not in Simon’s POV (this infuriated me), Simon does a 180 degree turn on his outlook on life and decides to combat his self-destructive depression. The remainder of the book, he and Baz undergo fanfic levels of snuggles, cuddles, and kissing. I’m a sucker for schmoop. The topic of cults is relevant and interesting.

Thus, we finish the Simon Snow Trilogy aka “Harry Potter but Okayer.” My partner pointed out that the Simon Snow Trilogy exists well in relation to Harry Potter, but standing on its own legs, it fails to meet reader expectations. Well said. I’m quite glad to be done with it.

Review of Carry On: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/175a42c6-618d-412a-9178-d20104035b8b

Review of Wayward Son: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/f9975b76-637f-44ff-878e-471c2e63ebdf

Though I had my reservations about Carry On, I itched to read Wayward Son. I requested it at the library, and voilà, here we are.

What happens after you save the world? What happens when your destiny is over? Depression, turns out. Baz and Penny enroll in a Normal (aka Muggle) university, while Simon rolls around on the sofa, trying to find the energy to care. After a semester of no improvement (Simon’s therapist is shit), Penny decides to take drastic measures: USA road trip. Everyone get in the Mustang: we’re confronting our problems.

Rowell describes Wayward Son as a discussion of what happens to the Chosen One after he saves the day and I think it’s almost that. Most of the book fell woefully short of its intended goals and would have benefited from a more rigorous editor. Clearly, Rowell wanted the characters to slow down and think about who they are and what they’re doing with their life. You know, confront their flaws, and deal with mental aftershocks of surviving a cataclysm. However, she poured these desires into the fast-pace mold of the previous book. The results were disastrous. Despite being on a road trip with seven hour stretches of Nothing, nobody talks to anyone. Nobody listened to each other. At first, British people not realizing the breadth of the United States was funny, but then it was like Rowell didn’t know the distance. I nearly lost my mind when the story jumped from Reno to San Diego in the space of three paragraphs. 

The fast-pace spilled over to confusing scenes and conversations. Characters constantly talked over one another. It was like being in a confused group chat, and I wanted to tell everyone to shut up. Like in Carry On, scenes would ping-pong between point of views. This technique worked great for kissing, but was distractingly terrible for fight sequences. I think Rowell was trying to convey how confusing brawls can be—that message would have been better conveyed with a single, confused POV.

Racism took new, bizarre forms in Wayward Son. We again have Rowell’s little asides that mention racism, but don’t think too deeply about it. At one point, the gang attends a Renaissance Faire. Their confusion about the event and its purpose is charming and fun. That is, until Penny decides that the Faire is “cultural appropriation” of…what? British history? The magical community, which Normals don’t know exist? Listen. You can’t culturally appropriate a global superpower. British culture is a dominate hegemony: they appropriate a minority’s culture. Penny should be way familiar with this phenomenon, because she’s British Indian. This moment threw me so hard I landed in next Tuesday.

Then we have the fantasy racism against Normals. During the adventure, our trio meets Stephen, a Normal who befriends magical creatures as a hobby. Stephen is kind, charming, and ever-helpful—and the trio treats him like shit. Despite their magic depending on Normals, despite Stephen having a Mary Sue level of all the answers, our “heroes” insult, ditch, and beat him up. Penny is especially terrible to him, and Rowell sets her prejudice up as a source of potential growth. Early on, Penny realizes she’s not right about everything, so I settled in for some lovely growing pains…only for her to change nothing. Penny does nothing different until the very end of the book. Listen, it’s fine to have character flaws and fantasy racism. It was the lack of Dealing With It that bothered me, especially since they’re on a road trip to Deal With It.

Let’s end with some positives. The world-building continued to be such fun. I love the idea of Quiet Zones, which are places where there’s not enough humans to power linguistic-based magic. Some USA states literally do have more cows than people, after all. I’m a sucker for cool magical creatures. Stephen is a fantastic character. It’s awesome that he’s Black. We need more charming Black men in fantasy fiction. If I had to quibble, I’d say the Hoover Dam littering scene was in poor taste. You know some happy-go-lucky’s are going to throw paperbacks into the Dam “for the water spirit.” 

While everyone else drove about, Agatha’s character continued to be an awesome dismantling of the damsel archetype. She realizes she’s can’t simply run from dangerous places—that’s a stopgap to a larger problem. Further, she can’t rely on wealth and privilege to protect her! I was pleased as punch with everything about the NowNext group. I predicted the twist! Baz’s interior journey was equally rewarding, and I appreciated the free parenting offered by a certain debonair immortal.

Overall, my experience with Wayward Son was uneven. Rowell displayed solid skill on some fronts, but others were bumped along like pot holes. When I described Wayward Son to a friend, they said it sounded like Rowell hadn’t read a lot of road trip stories. Maybe that’s the crux of it—Wayward Son is a road trip without a road trip. We go places, but the characters, awkwardly, don’t.

Review of Carry On: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/175a42c6-618d-412a-9178-d20104035b8b

Review of Any Way the Wind Blows: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/98e43c19-ad87-4d1a-846b-65d48667c627