A big thank you to Net Galley and Mad Cave Studios for an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review!

Confetti Realms is an autumnal delight, its story and atmosphere an equal mixture of Alice in Wonderland and Over the Garden Wall. The Halloween vibes are strong with this one, presenting a world that expertly struts down the line between whimsical and unsettling. 

For a comic that feels so chill and almost relaxing at times, there's a slew of deeper issues that haunt our ensemble cast: taking care of a sick parent, mental illness, guilt, self-hatred. Their emotional arcs bring a good amount of weight and resonance to the story, but they may have hit harder if the introductions to these characters would have been a bit longer. 

It felt like the story started a bit too late and ended way too early. While we get resolutions to the emotional journeys of the characters, the narrative ends too abruptly to be entirely satisfying. Still, I had a good time reading the story and getting a kick out of the utterly horrifying presence that is Tom the puppet. Not a bad way to start off the spooky reading season.

Carroll is an absolute master at setting a horrific scene: the build-up, the tension, the malicious foreboding that precludes a disturbing payoff. She knows how to play with her readers, how to hide small details in plain sight, of instilling us with a similar feeling to that of the main character, that things aren't exactly happening as we remember them or as we're told. We feel just as out of sorts as Abby, where delusion may be slipping into reality and vice versa.

The art of this story is absolutely visceral, where moments of domesticity overlap with nightmarish creatures that look straight out of Hell. I liked the small detail that Abby seemed to be the only character without pupils (that I remember), giving a small hint towards the validity of her perceptions. 

Not everyone is going to be satisfied by the open ending, but I didn't mind it. The horror comes from the vagueness of it all, that all the things that we imagine are going to be scarier than what actually is. We don't get answers, and that can be frustrating, but also terrifying. 

Graphic novels that feature music are a really tough sell at times, seeing as you don't have that auditory element to help fall into the story. I've read some that are fairly passable, but I think this one misses the mark. Not so much because of the music, but every other element seems so flat. The art style is gorgeous; it's one of the better aspects of the comic, but everything else really didn't help draw me in.

I found Beatriz to be such an unlikable lead. Sure, her perfectionist attitude derive from wanting to save her grandfather, but it's the only side we ever see from her. There is no progression of behavior other than going from overly passionate to dangerously obsessive. She's constantly dismissive of other people in the band from the start and I just didn't connect with her. 

There's also some weird anti-indigenous sentiment going on, framing someone from a tribe indigenous to Mexico as a sort of "devil in the crossroads" character. It feels so out of place within the story, which already wasn't doing much for me.

Absolutely phenomenal illustrations, but more could have been done here.

Jonathan Stroud built such a robust, engaging world with Lockwood and Co. It can be eerie, unsettling, and dangerous, where the dead stalk the night and range from being just an uncomfortable nuisance to full on murderous. Having only children being able to see ghosts gives our main characters a good amount of power and agency in the story, though Stroud is good about not painting all adults as pathetically useless. I was a bit confused a bit as to when this story takes place, as it has a sort of timeless quality, but does mention a few modern things here and there. It kind of falls in the same place as A Series of Unfortunate Events at times, where the time period is generally whatever it wants to be. 

The writing is effectively creepy at points, giving a good introduction to horror to younger readers looking for a bit of chill. I don't think it's too much for a middle schooler, but that's coming from an adult that was watching things at that time that they probably shouldn't have. Still, it's a great ghost story that leads our characters into pretty precarious situations.

As always, what would a middle grade fantasy series be without a core trio. I liked Lucy's clear, empathetic voice as she narrates the story, with the charismatic Lockwood and persnickety George at her side. There's a bit of casual fatphobia with the way George is described at times, which is a bit of a downside. They bounce off another fairly well, though, and at least have a entertaining dynamic.

Will probably be checking out the sequel at some point or another. I don't think it's one I would pick up immediately, but after letting this one sit a bit I'd get on it.

Mid-2000s Hot Topic core mixed with Halloween goodness is really all I've ever wanted in a graphic novel. Everything about this comic, from the Invader Zim-esque character designs, which are fitting given that the creator has worked on the Zim comics, to the characters that are 50% snark, 50% feral gremlin energy. I love me a trio that all share a collective brain cell that is oftentimes misplaced. Really, I don't think I've been this satisfied by graphic novel in a while in terms of a story just having absolute fun. 

If I were to have one critique, I would say that the beginning starts on a somewhat shakey note. Gwen seems to have met her monster friends before this story takes place and each time they reference their first meeting I felt a little lost, wondering if there was a piece of the story I was missing out on there. Fortunately that feeling doesn't stick around too long as shenanigans ensue immediately.

Also, having a nonbinary werewolf main character is definitely a good way to get me to put an instant five stars on anything. 

I had such a unique experience while reading this book. I felt totally engrossed within the mind of Sol Katz, a trans vampire archivist in their 40s constantly finding himself at odds with the world around him. Whether it's through the transphobic remarks made by his coworker or the lack of accommodation he faces at work, society has a way of making him feel out of place. I loved the framing of vampirism as a chronic illness, something that Sol didn't choose to happen to him yet it's something he has to plan his entire life around. It grounds the book from being an overt monster fantasy, leaning more towards focusing on someone just trying to make living work for them.

It's definitely more of a character-driven story, as the plot slowly unfurls in the background until maybe the last fifty pages. Going into the direction of a haunted archive seems like a natural route to go down, but the way in which Fellman does it feels so creative and emotionally investing. 

I don't think it's a book that's going to work for everyone. It goes into topics like the process of archiving, fanfiction culture, gender journeys, all topics that can be so personal. I was able to relate to so much of it, so that's probably why I'm giving it such a high rating. There's a sort of lugubrious, cerebral tone throughout the book that makes it seem slower than it really is, but that's another quality that really endears me to it. The book makes you feel like you're just watching someone's life, it's not spectacular or particularly revolutionary, but it's their's. Though it has its differences, Sol's life shares the same goals as most of ours: find purpose, sense of self, love, fulfillment, belonging, etc. 

This novella was the kind of post climax, settling down sort of fluff that I always love reading, an extended epilogue that sends the main characters beyond what we thought was the final page. It was nice to see the characters reacting to a more personal, domestic sort of conflict, Elisabeth facing it sword first, Nathaniel with his playful wit, and Silas' calm, but sometimes scary dutifulness. There is a more laid back quality to the story, but Rogerson still makes some room for emotion and tugging on some heartstrings. I was a big fan of Silas in Sorcery of Thorns so I was glad to see some more focus on his character, glimpsing into his history with Nathaniel's family and a sort of tragic aspect to his being. He also gets a lot of big laughs, what with his slight snobbery and high butler standards. 

At this point, I feel pretty confident that I will eat up anything Margaret Rogerson writes. Her characters are just a joy to read and I can't get enough of them. I think this series so far has ended on a pretty sweet note, so it feels like a continuation it's needed, but I sure as hell would want one if it were in the cards. 

I have such a range of feelings for this book. While written in a way that might not be so accessible for the modern tween, it's insightful, profound, meaningful, reflective, and ultimately believes the truth of its message. It reads like The Little Prince in so many ways,  albeit more domestically, displaying some deep truths in life in a way that resonates with young and old readers. Sure, there are several points where it feels like the characters are just a mouthpiece for the author, especially the uncle, but to read this book knowing the context of the time in which it was written makes it feel a little less overbearing. 

Copper's internal journey throughout the book was such a poignant one, reflecting on his place in the world, his connections with others, and how he will ultimately contribute to the world. The benefits of selfless thinking, of being aware of all that we're tied to, and how our actions affect everyone around us are natural themes in coming of age stories, but there's something here that makes them truly resonating. I think it may be the added history of this story being released at a time where free thought in Japan was criminalized, where the military was gaining more and more power. Its intent to inform youth on ethics, philosophy, and self reflection seems innocent and earnest without being patronizing or condescending. It's a book that treats its readers seriously, which feels like a hard to come by quality at times in youth fiction.

I'm not sure how the modern tween or teen may relate to this book, whether they may find the writing style too abstract, or some of the lessons long winded (I know young me would have probably skimmed through the chapters focusing on Napoleon and the history of Buddha statues), but I think there are some elements that still resonate with the kids of today. 

On paper, Legends and Lattes is an easy book to snuggle into. The stakes never feel too high, but are real enough to give a lax tale a bit of engaging conflict. The main characters are sweet, personable figures, even the more cantankerous ones, so, all in all, the books just radiates positive vibes. For me, though, I never felt like I could settle into it. Now this is a totally me feeling. It could be that I read this at the wrong time when my frantic little mind needed something a little more stimulating. The fact that I had to read it in less than three days since I had to return it to the library also did not help. It's definitely a book you have to be in the right mind/mood for, as it takes a deeper focus on interpersonal relationships rather than a grand quest or narrative.

And really, I love the more character-driven aspect, especially in fantasy. In this genre, large scale plots and brutal character development is the norm, so it's nice to see something more laid back, more personal. The found family trope is always a top tier inclusion and it works so well here. Our main cast is full of characters that defy the typical fantasy expectations: an ex-adventurer orc that's looking just to settle down into an easy life, a succubus that's more interested in her studies and art than more, ah, physical hobbies, a shy rat folk that bakes heavenly pastries like it's nothing. They're not exactly outcasts, just people who live a little differently than one would expect. 

I think I could have used a little bit more of the romance. Maybe a bit earlier or maybe a few more scenes of them bonding, just to add a little more sweetness to the story. The plot settles in a sort of cyclical pace at times, so a little more sprinklings of it may have given it a bit more variety. 

If you're looking for a more laid back, fantastical yet down to earth story, this one may just be the blueprint. 

I was drawn to this book after reading Brook's memorable, moving piece "To the Young Who Want to Die." It was one that really resonated with me and I wanted to see if he had any more writing that was just as striking. Fortunately, this book contains multitudes. 

Brooks' work, at least in this collection, touches on a variety of themes, such as war fatigue, class struggles, racial tensions, womanhood, maturity, etc. I'm not going to lie and say that I understood each poem right off the cuff. Her voice is rich, emotional, and lyrical, something the ear has to be trained for to listen and understand. Some had clear, overt messages and stances, where others deserve a bit more time to study. There is nothing cryptic in what Brooks wants to achieve with her writing, so once you're used to the language you can catch on pretty easily. 

I have favorites from all over this collection, like "And if Sun Comes," "The Lovers of the Poor," "Men of Careful Turns, Haters of the Forks in the Road," "The Crazy Woman," "In Emanuel's Nightmare," etc. There is such profound emotion here that each poem feels like a release or a catharsis, a way to unleash pent up feelings while also informing the reader of very real issues and sentiments. Her writing has a down to earth quality, her words not sending you to this heightened plane of beauty and wafting poetics, but simply revealing what has been in front of you the entire time.