Listen Closely is the kind of book I wish my teenage self had been able to read. Despite having left my teens behind quite some time ago, I still found myself staying up all night to keep reading this gorgeous novel, and ended up devouring it in one sitting. 

It’s impossible not to root for Jude and Aiden, and watching their romance (and friendship!) blossom in synchronicity with their passion and creativity with regard to audio drama, a medium I adore beyond words, was so special. It was also incredibly beautiful to see two trans characters falling in love despite having to face transphobia in their creative careers: and very gratifying to see how they grew as a result of their relationships with another. Egan struck an incredible balance in tone and managed to create a deeply hopeful story that simultaneously doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of the current moment. I just can’t express how lovely it was to finally watch two trans characters fall in love on the page, and their mutual transness to be a contributing factor to their love stories, such as the very tender scene with the trans tape, rather than a detriment, obstacle, or source of tension.

Our two leads’ relationships with the other characters around them were also consistently organic and intriguing, and supported their overall character arcs beautifully. Egan also portrays the characters’ neurodivergence with so much nuance and care. And did I mention this book is also funny? I really couldn’t ask for more from Listen Closely on any front and I’m so excited to read more of Egan’s work in the future.

This is such a special book and I really hope it receives the love and acclaim it deserves. It will have a special place in my heart forever. 

I had the pleasure of interviewing Egan for The Hidden Bookcase podcast- I’ll amend this review with a link when that’s available. 

I received a free audiobook of Paper Doll from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Paper Doll is a lovely listening experience- much like sitting down for an intimate chat with a friend. Mulvaney is irresistibly likeable and it was a real treat to spend so much time listening to her vivacious, bubbly voice. In Paper Doll, she remains as effortlessly funny as she does in her social media content. I can’t imagine even those unfamiliar with her wouldn’t be won over after this memoir. 

This isn’t a deep, philosophical, intersectional mediation on transness and it doesn’t pretend to be. This is one individual’s journey- not just through her transition but through her fame and coming-of-age as a young adult. It’s thought provoking and honest. I had an awful lot of sympathy for the pressures Dylan faced getting thrust it into a very particular kind of spotlight- I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and it was fascinating to hear how she dealt with (and struggled to deal with) the position. I’m so proud of the grace she’s handled everything with- speaking as just one trans person, she’s doing far better than I would’ve in her shoes (I can’t walk in heels anyway!)

I think pretty much anyone could get something out of this memoir- a glimpse into a very interesting life, that for most people, is going to be very different to their own. I’d recommend giving it a shot, whether you know of Dylan or not. 

Sunbringer has simply never heard of second book syndrome. Kaner builds masterfully on the work of Godkiller here, expanding on everything- on the world, on the characters, and on the themes she approaches with nuance and clarity. Her prose remains gorgeous and evocative- I was so transported to this beautiful and terrible world- and her characters compelling, complex, and extremely loveable. I know other reviewers were disappointed by the characters' separation, but I found their various desires to reunite a fantastic fuel to the fire, and found it to be equally fascinating to watch them develop in isolation. I also think it's worth noting the care with which Kaner is tackling some immensely difficult topics- the depictions of war and oppression here were at times difficult for me to get through, but I think this was a huge strength. She never loses the human element or cost in favour of falling into the fantasy trope of giving the reader some flashy spectacle, which would undermine the themes here terribly. That said, the denouement feels quite justifiably huge and harrowing- a very worthy close to this novel. I gasped aloud more than once, and I think the setup for the finale could not be more ideal- Kaner consistently takes the story in the direction that, in my opinion, is the most interesting, rather than settling for obvious resolutions. I could not be more eager to get my hands on the final book in the series. 

I discussed this book, along with Godkiller, on SFF podcast The Hidden Bookcase. For my full thoughts, visit: https://open.spotify.com/episode/074RB262Sq7Tl04lm2J7zO?si=e25cd87cd814463a

This was such a gorgeous conclusion to the trilogy, and so immensely satisfying. I'm in awe that Marske paid off everything that needed paying off with regard to the overarching plot whilst crafting a romance that is perhaps the most compelling of the whole trilogy, and I don't say that lightly. 

I was repeatedly wonderstruck by just how real Alan and Jack both felt- their inner psyches, their dialogue, their insecurities, their projections to the world around them- Marske's character writing is truly masterful. There's also a danger with romance series where characters begin to feel a bit samey as the author's proclivities for a certain "type" begins to shine through, but there's not a sign of that- these two felt so wholly original. Romance isn't my go-to genre, but I have read enough period romance to say that this was the most believable exploration of the power dynamic that comes along with a big class gap I have ever come across- which in retrospect, makes absolute sense from Marske. I can't find a better way to phrase it than to say that Marske wholly inhabits her characters- they could be doing the most mundane thing in the world, and she is still fully considering all their experiences and quirks and beliefs, and it colours her writing beautifully. 

The final confrontation was tense, enjoyable, and resolved in an interesting way, and the ending was genuinely so touching and sweet- I don't know if I've been as heartbroken to say goodbye to a group of characters since I was a teenager.

I genuinely can't praise this book highly enough- perhaps I would find the words if I was as talented a writer as Marske. This series has a special place in my heart, and will for years to come. 

I spoke at length about this book (and the rest of the trilogy) on The Hidden Bookcase- for my full(er) thoughts, listen here: https://open.spotify.com/episode/00qmzOfdNezNvXtZnM1YRm?si=7c43b8131aba4a39

Having followed the development of Artifice & Access since almost its inception, I had built up my hopes for this anthology- I can say happily that they’ve absolutely been met. There’s wonderful breadth here, both in terms of representation and in terms of how each writer responded to the prompt of fairytales, whether they were crafting new ones or retelling those that already exist.

I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.

As with any collection by multiple writers, there were stories that resonated with me more than others, but whilst I often struggle to rate them, I happily elected to give the anthology as a whole five stars as every story was thought provoking and the range of voices and perspectives included here is really what makes the book. Personal favourites for me included To Make Her Eat- as an almost-lifelong celiac it was exciting to see a character that shared my illness on the page, and I thought that the way that Stevenson found a way to make it into her strength was just so clever, Stroke of Midnight, Shoes of Glass, for its traditional fairytale voice and its defence and prioritisation of rest, and A Night For Mischief, for the instantly loveable characters, engaging prose, and the intriguing world being hinted at- I really wanted that one to just keep on going!

I’d highly recommend this heartfelt anthology to any fantasy readers (and writers!) disabled or abled: there is so much to take away here, whether it’s from a place of catharsis and solidarity or allyship. I’m excited to read more work by these talented writers and I sincerely hope this is the first in a long line of similar projects- I’d read a sequel anthology right away if it existed.