This book is dumb. I lost brain cells while reading it. I hold every person who overhyped this book personally responsible. I normally do not begin a review this personal and catty, but it astonishes me that an author who is allegedly both prolific and deeply knowledgeable of military matters, could write a story that is void of both literary quality or military strategy. This book is nothing more than a soulless knockoff of predecessors like ACoTaR or Eragon. Spoilers below.

- Why would a military academy force its Freshmen students to walk across a railing-less chasm for their commencement ceremony, ensuring that a huge portion of prospective students die before ever setting foot on campus? Why would a military academy encourage cadets to murder each other, instead of doing team-building exercises? How does this military function if it keeps offing its own soldiers?!

- Why does Violet The Allegedly Bookish and Brilliant fail again and again to notice the obvious?! For example, that Xaden can read her thoughts and feelings, and responds to her private sentiments OUT LOUD?! You don't need a bigger clue that somebody heard your thoughts than them saying, "Yeah, totally, that is embarrassing that I can 100% hear your thoughts." Another example, she knows The Scribes or even The Powers That Be are censoring information, and that the children of the "rebellion" are more sympathetic than her family/teachers wanted her to believe; but she never puts together that there is a conspiracy to scapegoat these kids, or that the people in power might not be trustworthy?!

- Griffin Fliers are supposed to be the assumed enemy of the story, until we get the twist reveal that they are refugees fighting for resources that the Dragon Riders won't share. But it's not a twist, because the griffins are never presented as a real threat. First of all, it's laughable that a griffin would pose a threat to a dragon! XD But secondly, we are never shown a skirmish, a moment of danger, a reason to distrust (or question) Team Griffin. They are a vague threat in the background, like a shadow on the wall that you think could be something sinister, until your eyes relax and you realize it's just a sweater on a chair.

- This book missed most opportunities to really think about the complexities of flying on a dragon. No scales chafing your inner thighs. No increased gravity when doing swift turns and loops. No heat-resistant clothes, or burns sustained from being too near their firebreath. In fact, most flight training is yada yada'ed as "It was really difficult. I fell out of my seat a lot. ANYWHO, wow that guy is hot."

- Xaden's shadow powers are too OP. He can make shields, and cloak people from sight, and overhear conversations had in the dark, and solidify his shadows into tentacles that can lasso things or attack people. Meanwhile, Violet's powers make no sense: How are Lightning and Time-Stop extensions of herself?! How do those relate to her bookishness, her tenacity, her (alleged) cunning, or her compassion?! It seemed like everyone was just given a convenient superpower to get out of whatever "conflict" they were in, but then Violet didn't use her Time-Stop when she needed it most: To SPOILER ALERT save Liam/Deigh! Similarly, how convenient is it that the venin mages' one weakness... are daggers... with which Violet just HAPPENS to be proficient. So contrived! Nothing about this magical system has finesse, intelligent design, or consistent stakes.

- The ensemble is not fleshed out beyond Violet, Xaden, Liam, and Dain, but even that's generous, because the big four are clear ripoffs of other Romantasy characters. Tropes within tropes, people. Beyond them, there are A TON of other characters, but they're all one note: A hairstyle, a gender, a magic power that's used once and never mentioned again. Names on paper, nothing more. And every single character, big four included, exists to tell Violet how amazing she is, even though she fails constantly XD.

- Violet is a clear ripoff of Feyre, and Violet's journey of self-empowerment is NOT earned the way Feyre's is.
Violet: People assume I'm weak because my joints pop; I will go to the gym!
Feyre: I have been abused, starved, neglected, traumatized; but even though it's been impossibly hard, I will endure, and I will lift others even as I slowly build myself.
Similarly, Xaden is the bad fanfic version of Rhys.
Xaden: I have always loved Violet, she's so bang-able!
Rhys: I have always loved Feyre, she inspired me and gave me strength when I was grief-stricken and hopeless.

- This book had mountains and forests, battlements and villages... but it never really used the terrain to any great effect. No bottleneck battles, no difficulty following an enemy that knows how to camouflage in chasms/mists/foliage. No tracking another creature's scent. No difficulty flying around spires, or chasing smaller enemies through ravines... The locations had names, but no personalities, nothing memorable in design. Every location came out of a preset D&D map, with no thought for realistic military tactics. That's the thing about fantasy: It's supposed to bring the fantastical to life! It should feel real. Nothing in this book felt real.

Without multi-dimensional characters, or visceral descriptions of warfare with magic/magical creatures, or rich locational lore, or a cunning and intimidating military... without ANY of those things... this book is just the story of how one girl went to the gym over and over again. That's it. Violet Sorrengail went to the gym, and sometimes went to the library, and had a crush on a hot senior. That's. It!

Not worth the ink it cost to print. Definitely not worth the over-inflated resell price, or the multiple merch tie-ins, or the upcoming TV adaptation! And just the cherry on top: I hate the new trend for YA First Editions to all have sprayed edges as the new norm. Those of us who stuck to physical books did it for the smell! You have ruined New Book Smell! This book somehow took every fad and RAN with it, and got rave reviews for aesthetics over substance. Shame. On. Us.

Do not waste your time and money on this series.

DNF at 200 pages. This book was a chimera, with all the disparate heads biting itself. I think it was trying to be an homage to Grimms' Fairy Tales, and just like the original tales that meant marrying fairy magic, demonic influences, and at-risk little girls, into one cautionary tale. But the book didn't build interesting, sympathetic young women, just a series of mish-mashed references and half-baked vignettes. There were too many PoV's, and they switched too rapidly (sometimes sections were only a paragraph or two long). You're never in one story long enough to care. Also, the format was just awkward: There is a present day countdown to a fight-to-the-death that gets minute by minute timestamps, but then there is a flashback portion with no date and time; AND the narration is first person for one character, third for the other PoV characters, but SECOND person during exposition?! There were even times that the first person narrator was narrating a different character's PoV "chapter". It was odd. Maybe it was supposed to mimic dream "logic". But reading somebody's dream journal would be just as dissatisfying. I do not feel anything for these girls.

This book is the literal opposite of a Sarah J Maas book. In a typical SJM, the leading lady is daring and outspoken. She is outmatched in a bloodthirsty game of Fae courtly intrigue, but through friendships, alliances, training and resilience, she grows to be her enemies' equal in strength and superior in righteousness. She is often the subject of multiple characters' affections, and must be careful to whom she trusts her heart.

In Thorn... *weary sigh*...

1) The main character is a coward. She flees every opportunity to interact with another human being, preferring the cozy company of barnyard animals. She knows she has been cursed by a Fae, and refuses the repeated offers for help from the only other magical person she knows! Even when the plot forces her into a conflict, she either runs away, or blacks out and gets rescued, until the last 30-40 pages of the book when she talks the Fae-tagonist into simply letting her go out of mercy.

2) The typical YA Fantasy love triangle is set up, but not explored in any way. The protagonist actively tries to avoid both the magical prince and the prince-of-thieves, spending huge portions of the book wandering the pastures and streets in contemplation. Even though both young men offer her friendship, she declines, and accepts her ill fate almost contently. Even as other women and children in the kingdom suffer under the courtly drama that the protagonist will do nothing to address, she refuses to "play The Game of Thrones" as it were, fearing that both offers of friendship are disingenuous (despite an enormous amount of evidence to the contrary!). It takes her until the last 100 pages to seek them out, and by then it is too late to protect anyone. Lives could have been spared if the protagonist had interacted with anyone in any way: platonically, romantically, manipulatively - in any single way!

3) The moral of the story seems to be "If you see something, say something." Because for 40o pages, the protagonist witnesses abuse, but keeps to herself. And in the last 60 pages, she has a philosophical debate with every major character about the nature of Justice, and she talks the villain into giving up her bloody revenge. This confrontation is presented as a moment of strength and growth, as if the protagonist speaks for all women wronged throughout history. But it comes across hypocritical, pathetic, and unearned, given how much her own inaction harmed everyone around her. It's dissatisfying to have a realm full of dangerous magical enemies threatening a climactic confrontation... and it all boils down to some girl saying, "Don't."

4) The magic of this world is pointless. It doesn't mirror the protagonist's own personal growth. It isn't used in creative, karmic fashion. Things set up in the beginning do not matter for the conclusion. This entire story could have been told without magic, and it would have been the same book.

About 200 pages in, the protagonist was thinking to herself while out in the pasture: "I wish I could skip to the end of my story." If the main character didn't want to be in her own book, why on earth would any reader. SKIP!

This book is delightful! It's fast and witty, the characters are genre savvy, it's almost like the show Once Upon a Time but more fun. I love that the characters know the flaws of their fairytales, and strive to redirect the course of fate. I love that this universe is both more modern and more magical than the original fairytale, without being over the top. An absolute must-read for fans of fairytale retellings.

This book is a beautiful fairytale retelling that weaves together imagery from so many different stories. While not always succinct, the author is still very skilled at selecting the right evocative words. The world-building and the characters are rich and alive; there was plenty of potential for this to have been a series, or for more books in the same world.

But Spinning Silver has MANY short-comings in its structure and themes:

The first 200 pages are solid. We are introduced to three women whose destinies are loosely braided, but tightening swiftly. They are each, in some way or another, victims of abuse, and striving to reclaim power in their lives. They are also struggling with moral ambiguities: Whether to be selfish or sympathetic, do they honor or disown their families, do they owe good character to an uncaring society and should they protect the society they hail from at the expense of a neighbor's? All delightful quandaries to ponder. And, depending upon our ladies' final decisions, they could end up friends or foils. Ooo, intriguing, right?! Throw in some brooding fairy hunks and you've got YA gold!

But about halfway through the book, the story gets bloated with MORE PoV characters who do not serve these themes or conflicts in the slightest. We have an old handmaiden, who largely complains about being old and useless unless she's knitting. We have a ten year old boy (who may or may not be coded as having autism), who covers his ears every time something eventful is happening because it's overstimulating, and the author makes the baffling decision to have this kid narrate the climax of the book! And finally, we have the possessed tsar, who is haughty, violent, and disinterested in being the tsar. Three narrators who either cannot, or do not want to, effect the plot in any way, and draw focus away from the main characters and central conflict in order to complain about themselves! It's mind-boggling, and infuriating, and boring. And sadly, the choice to give the back-half of the book to these secondary PoV's meant that the book lost a lot of emotional heft, and the story doesn't crescendo or resolve as interestingly as it could have.

Frankly, what the book needed to do was axe everything about Wanda and her brothers. The really juicy part of the story is Miryem and The Staryk King's "Dances With Wolves" arc, and Irina and Mirnatius's "Beauty and The Beast"-ish arc. The two women are crowned against their will, come to empathize with their respective people (who are on opposite sides of both a border and a culture war), even come to empathize with their brooding husbands once they see the magical burden each is carrying, and alternate as friends and as enemies over the course of the book as they grow into their power. Phew! See? Juicy!

Along the way, it is implied that both women have a strong (even magical) connection to their heritage, and it seemed that something was being said by their mismatched elements: Miryem (Human, Sun) is married to The Staryk King (Staryk, Winter), and Irina (Staryk descendant, Snow/Ice/Water) is married to Mirnatius the Tsar (Human, possessed by Summer demon). Were the women promised to the wrong kingdoms, and meant to swap places? Were they meant to resolve each other's curses? Were they meant to temper their wicked husbands, and become the symbolic rulers of the two halves of the year, finally at peace? Maybe, all together, these couples were meant to represent the four seasons, and Irina is Spring and Miryem is Autumn? All of that speculation is a stretch, and sadly, moot. The elemental alignments between the main characters do not matter thematically, it's a red herring. The elements' only purpose is plot, in the stupidest Rock-Paper-Scissors I've ever seen: Summer beats Winter, Winter beats Sun, and Sun beats Summer? How does SUN beat SUMMER?! But that's the secondary climax of the book: Miryem, using the power of a magical Solarbeam, defeats Summer incarnate, a giant lava demon. It's messy. Maybe it has its roots in a fairytale, but with all the seasonal and weather powers played up in this book, I cannot comprehend how two almost identical elements are foils to each other. I shouldn't have to do research to understand the conclusion of this book; the elements introduced should make sense. And the story should make use of its sympathetic core four in equal measure to set up and resolve its conflict.

By the end of the book, all of the themes about overcoming abuse, finding belonging, the morally grey line of duty, and the complex relationships between women, are all thrown out the window in favor of a typical fairytale wedding ending. After 400 pages... I'm not sure what this book stands for anymore. I wish it either had less or more: Cut the filler, or be a series. But have a clear vision for what these characters mean to each other.

It's kind of astonishing that this book came out in 2010, because it has that '80's unsettling fantasy thing down. It is easy to imagine this book as a movie (like Labyrinth) that would leave audiences wrestling with, "That was cool and visually epic, but also traumatizing and weirdly horny. How did they get away with putting kids in this movie, this was so not a kids movie?! I feel awakened and disgusted and nostalgic and I need to go share this with someone."

All of the back cover reviews called this book "dark", which I feel is a lazy description, and doesn't do the story justice. This is a gritty, grotesque, psychologically-realistic retelling of Peter Pan, that takes a long look at the horrifying casual violence in the original story:

- A "lost boy" (read "kid") is not just someone who ran off to have a nighttime adventure, and - thanks to faerie magic - still made it home in time for tea. Lost kids are the ones who fall through society's cracks, abandoned or overlooked. It's the abused, the neglected, or the troubled youths; the ones who have a reason not to trust adults, or to glorify the gang mentality of sticking to their peers. Without proper support and care, The Lost Kids are a feral group of damaged children turned cult in their reverence to their champion (Peter) who glorifies revenge. It's Lord of the Flies, complete with The Devil (The Horned One) compelling kids to murder each other.

- Peter is a psychopath. He looks young, but he's actually a centuries' old groomer and serial killer. Sure, he has Fae-touched charm and mischievousness. But he also has that alien-species' indifference to humanity's problems. Like the faeries of myth, he steals children from their homes, seduces them away with promises of adventure or belonging, and then shrugs off any responsibility for them. He is only loyal to his Fae code: Serve the faerie queen, protect nature, leave no debt unpaid (including an-eye-for-an-eye), honor bargains (but make bargains sparingly, with lots of loopholes, so as not to bind oneself to too many oaths which might contradict the primary one to the queen), and give the appearance of free will to all humans. So long as he's upholding his own code, Peter is infallible, and absolves himself of any fragile, mortal concerns. The reason that there are only 20-30 Lost Kids - even though Peter has been bringing children to the island for centuries with the promise that they'll never grow up - is because they literally never grow up. They die in service to Peter's code, and Peter considers them an unfortunate but acceptable loss.

- Colonial antagonists are not a fun, swashbuckling romp. Religious zealotry, violent "cleansings" in the name of righteousness, mutilation of natives, desecration of resources, starvation, sickness, genocide - these are the realities of colonialism, and this book presents them with all the horror and gravitas they deserve. This is not a story about kids playing pirates, pioneers, and Indigenous Peoples. This is a war story, where child soldiers have inherited inter-generational trauma from clashing cultures who refuse to empathize or compromise. All are caught in a struggle to survive, and none will, because there's nothing left to live for besides the bragging right of dying last as "proof" somehow that their side was Right all along.

- The book honors what it means to be a "fairytale". Before Disney made fairytales all about making wishes and getting married, fairytales were cautionary morality tales. And before that, before they were appropriated into Christian fables, there were myths and legends about The Fae: Progenitors and protectors of nature, the wild, and all the passions associated therein. The inhabitants of Avalon (i.e. Neverland) weave together many famous myths, and personify the historical evolution of these tales from Pagan to Christian iconography. Sure, sometimes a person proves their mettle, does a service for a faerie, and is rewarded with a boon. But other times, a person is trying to navigate tempting falsehoods in order to stay alive, or at the very least to stay "whole". Fae are seductive. They are two-faced, hidden in illusions of beauty, or hidden like dryads/naiads in their natural domain, or manipulating a person's feelings/dreams/memories/perception of time. As perspectives shift about these two-faced characters, so too does the language: Faeries become demons, The Horned King (god of The Wild) becomes The Devil, Haven is Eden complete with the forbidden apples, Peter even gets crucified after treachery from one of his Lost Boys/disciples. With the way that the story transitions from one age to another - magic to mankind, Pagan to Christian - precipitated by betrayals, seductions, a band of "brothers-in-arms", a magic sword that will determine the divine right to rule, and an Armageddon-like clash of forces, The Child Thief pays homage to one of the greatest, most famous, myths of all time: Arthurian legend. This book doesn't just step into its predecessors' shoes, it dons a whole suit of armor.

TRIGGER WARNING BELOW!!!

For all the adoration I have for what this book wove together, and the serious, horrific, tragic look it takes at humanity... I had to knock a star off for two reasons:

1) This book is masculine. The PoV's are all male, there is an inordinate amount of naked boobies noted, and female characters largely only exist as seductresses or victims of male violence. Wendy and Tinkerbell are basically not in this book. (The essence of the originals, their emotional beats, are divvied up between other characters. In the time that they appear properly, Wendy is nearly gang raped, and a Lost Boy threatens to pull off Tink's wings). Tiger-Lily is stabbed to death by a Lost Boy; Peter was practically raped by a witch when he was six; heck the opening chapter of this book is a little girl (Cricket, I presume) being raped by her father. I understand that the original book was also masculine, and that The Child Thief is just staying thematically true to the source's male wish fulfilment while emphasizing the horror of this predominantly-masculine world. BUT I think maintaining that hypermasculinity was a missed opportunity. Survivors' rage or guilt explored through female, non-binary, or queer PoV's would have elevated this book, especially once The Lost Kids clash with the Puritans. I think this story had an opportunity to give voice to the voiceless, to include perspectives not shown in the legends, histories, and fantasy stories that inspired this book. Alas, no such inclusion. The Child Thief stays in the safe, familiar aesthetic of an 80's movie/metal band, and delivers an epic horror-adventure story, but fails to tell us anything new.

2) The final 50 pages or so of this book are tonal whiplash, and I do not understand the choices made. The refugees' return to modern NYC is played for laughs, even though the entirety of the book up until then had been a gut-wrenching look at many, MANY heavy topics. Almost every character dies, including the PoV Lost Boy, our everyman: Nick. And Nick, with his final breath, basically curses Peter for being a narcissistic daredevil who bought the safety of his magical kingdom with the deaths of hundreds of children. But Peter, in the final pages, is presented like a bizarre punk-rock Jesus: He is the son of a God, he has the right to return to the magical kingdom of Avalon (i.e. Heaven), but he decides to stay with mankind for now, and avenge the fallen children by remaining a serial killer. It is stated that magic exists, hidden, in the modern world, and that maybe Peter can coax its revival? But no hope exists for the fallen Lost Children, they cannot be revived, they died in the street as semi-willing participants in Peter's gang war. There is no justice for Peter's crimes. Are we supposed to feel joy, that Peter gets to swan off into the city as an immortal, avenging angel? Should we not be horrified that Peter got exactly what he wanted, learned no lessons, is definitely going to continue the cycle of violence for selfish reasons, and children will continue to be groomed and abused both by man and by magical kind? Why is the ending of this book trying to gaslight me? It shouldn't be funny, or triumphant; this was a tragedy!

But aside from some dated male-gaze and a shounen-ized denouement, this book was MAGNIFICENT! The inspirations were woven together into a terrifying and soulful tapestry. And the social commentary was devastating, in a necessary way. I love the tragic, horrifying honesty of this book!!!

This was the most boring, under-developed, trope-tastic, CW script that I have ever read. For a story that's allegedly about sisterhood, there are almost no meaningful character interactions. The girls just declare themselves BFF's after a few days. Every character was flat: a hair color and a gimmick. The only character who was given any motivation was the very obvious antagonist: She wants to magically cure cancer, so... she murders girls and steals their magic. The magical system of this world is cheesy and inconsistent - sometimes the girls have to chant in rhyme, sometimes they just snap their fingers - but everyone agrees that no magic can beat cancer, so... every death was pointless. The PoV characters get wise that somebody within the sorority is trying to perform a wicked ritual: Vivi is told not to bring a magic-enhancing amulet into the group, but she does anyway, handing the antagonist exactly the ritual components she needed; and Scarlett went to track down the killer, found her, ran away instead of confronting her, and then fretted that she needed to go back out and stop the other girl after all, giving the murderer plenty of time to kill again. But cherry on top: Sisterhood is its own power, and when a coven works together they can augment and share their powers, without amulets or wicked rituals - a fact the antagonist knew, but... didn't like the whole "no magical exceptions for cancer" thing, so she betrayed her coven instead. None of these incidents needed to happen! The heroes AND the villain are equally dumb, vain, and irredeemable for having wasted my time.

If you need a witchy sorority/secret society book, read Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo.
If you just need campy witchy rituals and dark academia, watch Wednesday or Sabrina.
If you need a rubric for How Not to Write a Book, watch Writer Brandon McNulty on Youtube.
There is literally never a reason to resort to reading The Ravens.

This book did a lot of refreshing things right in the way it represented witchcraft, or even elemental fantasy. There's both a scientific and a sentimental appreciation for nature, and magic is described in ways that make sense: Both how to manipulate the elements to yield a natural response AND how we romanticize our connection to the elements. I loved the way in which covens were represented as people who trust and respect one another. They have a common goal, and a common love for the planet. There's no Satanic cult here, no animal sacrifices, no Latin chanted in the dead of night. Just people trying to preserve our one and only home planet. And I love how "spellbooks" are really more like field guides or log books, witches passing on their knowledge of both the planet's and human nature to the next generation.

BUT this book suffers from a technical writing standpoint. For a book that's supposed to be about how people change, all of the characters are mind-numbingly stagnant. Witches are reduced to one personality trait per season: Springs are patient, Winters are blunt, Autumns are melancholy, and Summers are... horny XD. The reductive characterization had me shaking my head a lot, because my sisters and I were all born in Spring, in the same month no less, and we could not be more different. But for the main character, especially, to not change much over time, despite the WHOLE message of the book, was supremely annoying. Clara learns to trust and learns to love, but her epiphanies both feel forced AND feel like they should have happened sooner. She has the same inner-conflict from beginning to end, she ignores every shred of evidence that ought to make her confront her doubts sooner, and it becomes harder and harder to sympathize with her when the answer to all of her problems is so obvious: Friendship is Magic. A six year old could have told her that. And yet, Clara only believes it after she stares directly into the sun. P.S. - Don't stare into the sun. It's realistic that someone doesn't just "get over" their trauma, and it's maybe believable too that someone can put their problems into a new perspective after immersing themselves in nature. But I found myself more sympathetic to Paige and Sang, who supported Clara in her grief, but grew frustrated when Clara wouldn't help herself. Why did it take an almost deific experience with The Sun for Clara to connect to the people in her life, when those supportive people have been there the whole freakin' time?!

My other peeve, was that this book is too preachy. Yes, global warming bad, human influence huge, hug a tree, hug your neighbor, kumbaya! But even though the message about being connected, empathetic, and engaged, is all VERY very important, I found the way that this author delivered that message to be very insulting. She basically points at the audience and says, "Hey you, muggle, you caused this crisis. What are YOU going to do about it?!" She's not wrong... But I didn't open up a fantasy book to get yelled at.

It's kind of ironic that I didn't like the book calling me out for being complacent, that hurt, but I had the same feeling towards the protagonist. I didn't want Clara to pull back from the painful truth, I wanted her to learn something and then do something different.

Ultimately, I didn't enjoy this book, because the protagonist doesn't practice what she preaches, and yet literally the entire world revolves around her. I could see that this book was striving to deliver a universal message, wrapped in a sentimental love letter to Nature. But I just felt like I was reading an emo girl's diary, and couldn't care less about her being her own biggest problem.

A delightful penny dreadful! It was fun to see so many classics, and actual history, woven together in an homage to the era. Audrey Rose is a familiar-feeling narrator with a much-appreciated feminist perspective, like merging Irene Adler and Dr. Watson. Sadly, the flip-side of that coin, is that the story lags and gets padded out in the middle while Audrey Rose complains about corsets, tea parties, and embroidery. I know I'm over-simplifying XD. But truly, she complains so often about the restrictions on women, that I became desensitized instead of sympathetic. Sometimes she's criticizing systemic problems, but sometimes she's just annoyed at the superficial, like which color clothes are in vogue. Her "I'm not like most girls" screams off the page. And her inner monologue takes up more space than the actual details of the whodunnit. The mystery is underdeveloped; often Audrey Rose and Thomas are chasing down hunches and feelings, jumping to conclusions, or just plain falling into the right answer, instead of solving the case with any scientific precision. Which is a shame, because scientific precision is supposed to be their whole thing! For all the love and work that went into this book... it iiiis a bit of a popcorn book. A campy sci-fi thriller.

This book was perfect! PERFECT!!! No notes!!! It was everything I wanted, but didn't get, from Thorn by Khanani Intisar:

- The story has momentum! The protagonist, Vanja, actively tries to outfox the conflicts constricting her. She doesn't just wait out the clock, moping to her death. There is action, mystery, political intrigue, romance, found-family, all braided with a delicate ribbon of fairytale theology. *Chef's kiss!!!*
- The found family, the romantic lead, and the abusive antagonist are all fully fleshed-out, dynamic characters. They are relatable. When any party is threatened/threatening, you believe it. When Vanja grows to understand them, and chooses to trust/combat/outwit/flee from them, you understand their motivations and hers. The emotional beats all stick, nothing falls flat. And the character/relationship growth all feels earned.
- The depiction of abuse survivors living with the ghosts of their trauma, both panicking from triggers and haunting themselves with guilt, shame, what-if's, and unhealthy - even self-sabotaging - coping mechanisms, is done artfully, respectfully, and realistically. I loooove the way this theme is presented in Vanja. Her moments of vulnerability are deeply human.
- Emeric is SUCH a breath of fresh air in YA romantasy!!! It is so wonderful to meet a boy who is romantic, not just horny; intelligent, but not snide; chivalrous, but not brutish; sympathetic, but truly patient and supportive, not pushing his new lady friend to be strong; uptight, but not uncompromising; and first to apologize/admit when he's misjudged someone. *PRAAAAISE!!!* Emeric, you set THE BAR!!
- The magic of the world is well-integrated. Nothing is jarring, no sudden talking animals in an otherwise cozy, non-magical setting. There is ambient magic at all times, like a world that has lived side by side with Faerie since the dawn of time. The various magical deities and creatures which bless homes are worked into the society, their chapels or offerings omnipresent. Honestly, at times, I could see the movie adaptation of this book, I could so clearly visualize, and hear, and feel all the little details of living with casual magic. Beautiful world-building!
- The book has a message about Justice having its day, but it's not preachy. This book is rebellious and defiant, in a good way. It presents a world full of human monsters, and a group of hurt, healing people who howl back in the monsters' faces. It's a comfort to resonate with their pain and share in their victories, big and small.

PER-FEC-TION!!!!