Margaret Rogerson succeeds yet again at delivering a story that, while I'm not completely gushing over, still really enjoyed and found myself really engrossed in the world. It's nestled quite comfortably between Sorcery of Thorns and An Enchantment of Ravens in terms of how much I liked it. It's a little bit more sure of itself plot wise, something it has over the latter title, but its magic system isn't as well defined as the former, plus I have a little bit more of a positive bias towards stories that heavily incorporate books and libraries. As its own thing, Vespertine gave a fantastic, exciting start to a new series that I'm so ready to dive into when the next installment comes out.

Rogerson did a great job of crafting a reluctant, self-doubting, standoffish protagonist while also making her incredibly likeable. Due to her past trauma, Artemisia has trouble interacting with others and expressing herself, her face constantly giving an intimidating look no matter the situation. It was easy to empathize with her insecurities, as she holds onto a need to isolate in order to keep herself from spaces in which she feels she doesn't belong. Despite these feelings, she shows a great amount of determination and resolve when fighting to keep people safe. Normally with these types of characters, there is a touch of cynicism to them, some sort of vengeful spite towards humanity, but that's not what Artemisia's arc is centered around. Of course, those feelings are more examined through the revenant, her inner ghost companion, who is a wonderful source of banter throughout the book.

There is nothing so wonderful as a curmudgeonly, sassy ghost ranting about nuns and trying to be oh so spooky when the effect clearly isn't working. While certainly ghoulish, the revenant repeatedly looks out for Artemisia, warning her of physically taking things too far and reminding her when to rest. Sure, this might be because they share a body, but the care is felt more as the story goes on. I for one completely approve of this emotional support ghost and its unceasing verbal spars at the smallest things. 

The hierarchy of spirits and their different abilities depending on how they died was so interesting. It brought so much more to this world, especially in how this world interacts with its dead and the way people channel them through relics. I'm curious as to how this is going to be explored further on, to see what kind of dynamics are formed between those that work with spirits and keep an open dialogue with them and how that influences their work. I really just want to see more of this world since there is so much possibility already in this first installment.

There were some kind of plot beats that somewhat tripped me up. I'm not a fan of the whole "main character needs to have suffered at great lengths in order to become worthy and have perspective enough to become a hero" especially when it's framed as the god of that world allowing it to have happened. I understand that this is something countless fantasies have done in the past. I think justified suffering just rubs me the wrong way in certain instances. I know heroes have to be tested and face trials because a story needs conflict to really exist, but the way it's framed here just for one small scene just brought me out of it a bit. Other than that, Vespertine is very much a worthwhile read and I really recommend it to people who have enjoyed Rogerson's other works.

Wells certainly has a penchant for emotionally aloof and antisocially prone main characters, but I'm all for it. In a world devoid of humans and populated by a slew of humanoid creatures, the story offers a setting completely alien to the reader, which leaves a lot up to the imagination. At first, it was somewhat difficult for me to properly visualize all the differences between the species. The book already has an appendix for how to differentiate between the Raksura and the Fell, so it would have been helpful to have another that focused on the other races in the world. 

I don't know if this is just me, but I thought that it was somewhat odd that, despite possibly coming from a similar ancestor, the Raksura are an all sentient, rational thinking race among all their classes, but the Fell are a mostly animalistic hivemind species aside from their rulers. It kind of made for a messy parallel and I think was to make the reader empathize more with the Raksura and showcase the Fell as entirely evil with no capability for civility. I suppose it certainly helps side with the heroes as the two constantly slaughter each other, but it makes for a pretty boring antagonist that is simply evil scary monsters just because. The story seemed like it had a few opportunities to go deeper than that, as Cloud has a history with them and Wells has shown that she is capable of more nuanced storytelling, but fell off about halfway through.

I wish there had been more time set aside for Cloud to truly learn about his people and reflect on his place in their society before they thrust him into the hierarchal issues and the disputes with the Fell. Cloud has only just found his people for the first time after losing his mother and siblings as a child, wandering alone and hiding what he is from others, and I don't think we get a lot of him reflecting on what that truly means. Also, imagine going through all that, and discovering that your main purpose in that society was basically to breed. Again, may just be a personal thing, but I know that would certainly lead to an existential dilemma for me. Personally, I'm not a fan of society structures as, "you're born as this class, so obviously you must serve that role forever" seems too dystopic for my tastes. Wells subverts this with Chime in a way, but again, doesn't really tap the full ramifications or intrigue behind it. 

I'm on the fence on whether to continue this series. There were several points where it dragged, leading my eyes to glaze over and hope that it would pick up again. If I find other readers of the series that give a compelling argument to continue, then I would consider it. 

O'Neill, throughout all of their work, knows what it takes to make each of their worlds atmospheric, engaging, and magical. It's mainly through their artwork, which is just totally immaculate here. The night scenes, will covered in a dark, expansive sky, still have a certain glow about them, coming from Anya's lantern and the ethereal presence of the moths. The adding of animal characteristics to the characters also bring about a certain kind of charm, though I wonder if there was a purpose behind these designs beyond aesthetic. The art itself make it worth checking out, but I don't think it ultimately saves a story that seems somewhat empty.

I think, as I was reading, I never felt totally ingrained in the world. It seemed almost aloof in nature, not really explaining certain things or leaving other elements up to interpretation. I mentioned the story seeming somewhat empty, which kind of makes sense for one that has a desert setting and deals with feelings of loneliness in a community and isolating yourself. But there's not really much else that compensates for that space, not in depth worldbuilding or interesting character dynamics. The message is a reassuring one, that your responsibilities in your community shouldn't be a source of isolation, but rather a way to get closer to them. It's a simple, reflective story, which is fine, but I think I was expecting more out of the premise.

I've been hearing a lot of good things about T. Kingfisher and how I would really jive with her work. Well, diving into a story with a main character that has trouble really understanding the world around her while also bringing together a group that may qualify as one of the odder found families definitely wins me over. 

I think what really endears me to this book is how much I appreciate Marra as a character. I love how, despite how constantly and profoundly out of her depth she is, she is still determined to do anything to protect her family. That, while she is surrounded by people who, on the surface, are more exemplary and powerful, she is capable of working marvels. What makes her stand out among other royal heroines is that her abilities are not tied to skills she earned through her title or some kind of destiny, but a certain domesticity she finds comfort in and developed all by herself. Marra is a self made woman, wanting to make herself of use to others instead of sitting around, waiting to be used as a chess piece. I think there's something amiable in depicting a sort of power in the mundane, that, with enough determination and love, could be as strong as any weapon or magic.

The writing style makes it so immersive as a dark fairy tale. Kingfisher always nails the tone of a scene, whether it be unnerving, reflective, mysterious, or tinged with a hint of humor. There were some elements I think could have been expanded upon. I wish we got a little bit more characterization from Prince Vorling other than what we got as second hand accounts. Most of the time, he never really felt like a threat, just something far away and not really tangible, despite his lingering marks on Kania. I really wanted to see more of that Goblin Market as well. So very ripe with fantastical possibilities.

Also, sort of a nit pick, but I feel like the story didn't absolutely need a romance. Marra is adorable with Fenris, but it never seemed imperative or necessary for them to get together. It doesn't hurt the overall narrative per say, but I don't think it really adds anything other than more typical happy ending tropes.

It's odd how I went into this book having both some expectations, mostly due my friends and everyone else lauding it extensively, and no expectations at all. This pretty much happens whenever I'm 3-5 years behind reading the latest hot titles. But Elatsoe really does live up to its clout. The world has a somewhat normalized take on the paranormal, where vampires, or "cursed" individuals, magic users, and faeries are a known part of the world, interacting with society with life pretty much going on as normal. Well, aside from the string of mysterious deaths that seem to linger around a small town in the middle of Texas. It presents a setting that is both familiar and yet holds a bit of intrigue in a sort of alternate Earth containing all the history of our world with just some extra bits.

I loved the incorporation of Lipan Apache culture in the story, giving it an identity all its own and more weight to its events. The theme of oppressors actively displacing and sacrificing the oppressed to survive and further their own needs will always be haunting, especially when tied to the history between colonizers and indigenous peoples. Little Badger gives an equal amount of lamentation for the crimes of the past and present, while also celebrating the endurance of culture and its teachings that are passed down throughout the ages. 

A big plus for making Ellie's asexuality just a casual feature of her character rather than making it an entire plot point. As an asexual person, I'm glad to have any normalizing representation that's more than an entire story where the protagonist has to repeatedly defend and validate their sexuality to other people. Here, it's just a part of her being, no big thing, and that's the way it should be. 

If I had any criticism, I would probably say that the writing style was a bit simple for me, more like a middle grade novel than a YA, but I'm not going to hold that against it too much since we need more variation in styles for teens. Besides, it didn't ultimately affect the way I engaged with the book or lessen its messages or impact. Elatsoe is a promising debut and I'm looking forward to digging into Little Badger's next story.

A sea faring journey is just what I needed to get in the mood for a summer that feels not too far off. I will say, this book definitely lives up to its promise of adventure, due to its tense, bloody action and introduction to a world with a interesting magic system, though I did find myself constantly confused and unable to really visualize soul magic. I think the book's greatest strength is its setting, where each island holds its own kind of magic and traits. Though we didn't see every island, I'm sure the rest will be left for the sequel to explore, there was enough to sate me for this particular journey. 

When it comes to our main crew, I think I have to echo some other reviews by saying Amora comes off as the least interesting. Bastian has his charm and inner turmoil that he tries to keep behind a mischievous facade, Ferrick, his foil, a bit more straight laced and focused, while also having the neat featuring of regrowing limbs, and Vataea, a mermaid with a sultry, yet scary strength. And Amora is...just there. She's the princess, our main character, the one who believes she alone can save the kingdom, which somewhat makes me feel like she views her crew as nothing more than lackeys and sidekicks who are but tools to help her get to each destination while she does the most self-sacrifical work. I know she's meant to be a stubborn royal who was most likely raised to believe so, but it still doesn't exactly put her in the best light to the reader. 

The writing itself kept my attention, but the plot had the standard twists and formula one finds in most YA fantasy. Nothing wrong with a formulaic plot, but there should be some sort of window dressing or aesthetic that keeps it from fading into the background with all the rest like it. My mind was starting to expect certain plot beats, only to go "ah, there it is" when the shoe inevitably dropped.

Seriously, how many more "this close personal relative of mine was the true villain all along and I didn't want to tell you so that you could trust me" plot threads do we need? I say this more in Bastian's case than Amora's, as I believe them being brothers doesn't really add anything to the story. I mean, Bastian already had a personal stake in the matter since Kaven cursed him. We don't need to complicate things even more.

I'll probably get to the sequel at some point, just to see how things wrap up, but I think I may donate my owned copy, as I don't think this is a title I'll come back to again.

The charm of the Jazz Age is in full swing in this book, with its delightfully silly slang and seedy, corrupted dealings that lurk under the glitz of 1920s Chicago. I know some readers may find a lot of the 20s speak overbearing and confusing, but I think it endears me a little bit more to it. Naturally, Ruby, a self-proclaimed flapper, uses it more in her POV chapters than Guy, so it adds a little bit more characterization to her, as well as giving the dual narrations their own tones and styles.

Ruby is a spitfire of a gal, a real hotsy totsy that uses her mind reading abilities to murder abusive men that have no empathy towards the women they murder or take advantage of. If you're in the mood for a "we support women's wrongs" sort of book, this one will definitely take the cake. The book doesn't really go into any sort of moral ambiguity towards Ruby's actions. She believes what she's doing is necessary, knowing that innocent people would get murdered if she did nothing. Murder is a last resort, saved for those with no chance at redemption. I think if this were a book that tried a little bit more with its theming or attempted to tell a grander narrative, it would have seemed a tad shallow, but since it tries for more of a simpler story, I'm going to let it pass.

I was mostly entertained with the book, but I definitely thought it could have gone deeper. At its core, toxic masculinity and how it affects people, both men and women, is its most apparent source of conflict beyond the physical characters. Ruby has had to read the uncouth dangerous thoughts of men who have no issue hurting others for power and control. She knows how they devalue women, and so she tries to protect as many as she can. I think Kulper could have gone further with this angle if she incorporated it into Guy's story as well. As it stands, Guy, a shapeshifter, is more concerned with controlling his ability, thinking it makes him a freak and may have contributed to some horrible things from his past. 

I wonder if making toxic masculinity a part of Guy's journey as well would have done more for strengthening certain themes of the book, as well as give him a stronger connection with Ruby. In a world and time where the strong, debonair man reigns supreme and is the set standard, Guy, a shy, flustering nerdish type, would have no doubt felt the pressures of society to become something greater in order to flourish. Using his abilities to contort and mold himself into what society wants, only to realize that those expectations were dangerous and twisted, would have been a great source of internal conflict, showing that toxic masculinity harms not only women, but also men in the long run. If pulled off well, it could have made for a more interesting and layered read.

As it is, Murder for the Modern Girl is more of a popcorn sort of book, enough to be entertained, but nothing too insightful. I still had a lot of fun with it, especially with its aspects of magical realism, the aesthetic of the time period, and Ruby's gumption and determination. Kulper has another book set in this world coming out soon so I definitely will be checking that out when it releases.

Reading this book was like shooting a glorious cocktail of Joan Jett, The Craft, and glorious butch lesbian energy straight into my veins. Angry girl gangs are a trope right up my alley and The Scapegracers doesn’t disappoint. What I really appreciated was the core dynamic of the group. With your typical girl groups à la Heathers or Mean Girls, once the power structure is threatened, the girls basically turn on each other and rip the others to shreds. Here, it’s clear that these friends are ride or die for each other to a somewhat intimidating degree. If anyone dares to hurt one of their own, it’s open season and the aftermath is going to be bloody. High school party legends Jing, Daisy, and Yates never really fall into the holier than thou popular rich girl group stereotype, as they readily bring witchy loner Sideways into the fold once they see that her abilities are no joke. Despite their reputations, they’re very earnest in their intentions, and do what they can to make her feel welcome. It’s a welcome departure from the usual popular kids embracing the school loser story and leads to some great interactions between them all. 

Sideways is a character that is all barbed wire and jagged edges. Like many an angry queer teen, she desires to kick a hole square in the face of the universe and disregard any sort of conventional living. Some may find her personality and narration abrasive, but it absolutely jives with the tone and direction of the story. She is just the right amount of pissed off for the audience to cheer her on while not being totally put off by her attitude. I think what also really helps is that we are shown constantly that Sideways is not a totally unfeeling person. There are people that she loves, like her amazing, incredibly supportive dads, Julian and Boris, as well as her new friends and mysterious crush. It goes a long way in humanizing her and shows that what she ultimately wants is some sort of connection to others.

Tangent here, but Julian and Boris are probably some of the best parents I’ve come across in young adult fiction. Julian is the kind parent prone to flustering over the safety of his daughter, but at the same time is all for her joining up with a girl gang to act as a counter for the wealth of meathead jocks in the area. Boris is the more reserved of the two, still caring for Sideways and shares many interests with her, but is also respectful of her space and her secrets. Again loving the shakeups to the typical YA format of an angsty teen who is constantly at odds with their parents that only serve as another obstacle for them to face.

The treatment of magic in this world feels very unique, as it focuses more on its physical effects to the caster rather than solely on its outcomes. Magic is treated as this force that runs all throughout the body when in use, feelings of electricity and chills, coupled with coppery tastes on the tongue and sensations that defy reality. It makes magic more than just saying a cryptic word and hoping that it works, it is an elemental force that you dish out with your entire body. The magic in Scapegracers is chaotic, twisting and shaping itself based on the specific witch, better when done improvised and in the moment. I really like this interpretation, as it appears as this unpredictable power that can be called on in certain situations rather than completely mastered. 

On the whole, a fantastic read if you’re looking for some hardcore witchy vibes and a tough-as-nails girl gang that would definitely conquer the world if given the chance. I found it a bit slow to start at the beginning, but after a few chapters it really picks up and doesn’t slow down until the very end.

Always had a soft spot for stories featuring two characters from different worlds who come together and find that they have more in common than they realized. Caylin and Reema are two characters that know the trauma of loss, to varying degrees sure, but they know what it means to lose someone dear to you. They bond through caring for an injured fox, sympathizing with a creature that is deemed unwanted by society and has access to a kind of freedom they long for. Though getting off to a rocky start, the two develop a close friendship, bringing out the best in each other and staying resilient in troubled times.

An inspirational story for sure, great for helping children empathize with refugee stories and introducing them to the harder aspects of life certain children go through.