I recieved an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

The Third Daughter was a fine, but underwhelming read for me. Tooley's prose was servicable, but not standout- something about the pacing chafed with me- and the plot was, at least for me, irritatingly predictable. I certainly don't want twists and turns without an ounce of foreshadowing, but I- and a friend I spoke to who happened to get the same ARC- saw things coming from so far off that we didn't even concieve of one of the big, end of novel reveals *as* a reveal, until all the characters were dramatically gasping over it- we thought we were already supposed to have worked it out. The worldbuilding was very much "generic fantasy world," with a couple of frustrating- at least for me- obsfucations: for example, it was very ambiguous how common magic actually was, and how it was culturally regarded and engaged with.

Tooley's lead characters carried me through this read- they weren't showstopping, but I did care enough about them to finish this novel. Elodie is an entertaining protagonist- morally grey, shrewd, and ambitious, and dangerous in an intellectual way rather than a sword-wielding way, and I would love to see more girls like her in YA fantasy. Sabine was more interesting as a vehicle for the themes she brought to the table, but I wish we'd had a little more depth on these fronts. I was invested in their unfolding relationship to begin with, but somewhere along the way, these two lost me. Additonally, whilst Elodie and Sabine were believable, the rest of the cast felt like absolute ciphers: bland, interchangable, with surface-level motivations and unconvincing relationships with the protagonists. Elodie's relationship with her childhood friend was particularly egregious on this front for me: I don't feel like it had the neccesary establishment early on for the emotional pay-off Tooley was trying to deliver towards the end of this novel.

I also think it's worth mentioning that The Third Daughter being marketed as a matriarchy is a disservice to it. I was excited for worldbuilding that did something interesting with this idea, but the only matriarchy in this fantasy setting is within the royal family, where women inherit. Otherwise, in the church, in the home, in business, and in criminal underworlds, it's clear that women defer to men and men are expected to lead, and men and women are expected to embody the same traits, dress in the same ways, and adhere to the same rules as they did/do in the real world. This was dissapointing to me personally- I was hopeful, picking up a sapphic book, with a gender-based prophecy, and with two nonbinary characters within the first few pages (neither of whom return or do anything significant) that there would be sometruly interesting exploration of gender roles in this novel, but besides the specific inheritance laws within the royal family, this is another patriarchal fantasy world.

I started out really engaged with this novel, but sadly, that investment ebbed away as the plot awkardly unspooled itself. I think this is very much a totally, middle-of-the-road read for me: defintiley a 2.5, but I'll round up for the sake of the sapphics. I don't think I could personally recommend The Third Daughter, but nor would I really warn someone away from it- there's nothingfundamentally wrong with it, but there's so many novels that execute on very similar premises much more succesfully.

Having engaged with more and more work with Lovecraftian undertones recently, I thought it was about time I get around to actually reading some Lovecraft. The Colour Out of Space was interesting to read: the concept of an incomprehensible colour as a horror-element was certainly an intriguing one, and it’s clear to see how it has influenced other writers. I can’t help but think other writers have executed similar concepts with far more success, though. The narrative voice felt extremely detached and mechanical, and there was no sense of suspense, tension, or even mystery. Although I’m happy I read this and sated my curiosity, I think I’ll seek my eldtrich horrors from other sources in the future.

I received an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Let Me Out was decidedly okay. Like a lot of standalone graphic novels, I think it falls into the trap of trying to have too many main characters: I didn’t have a good sense of the kids’ dynamics, or even a grasp on all of their names by the time we reached the finale, and I definitely wasn’t emotionally invested in them.

I love the tropes and themes at play here, but I don’t feel like Let Me Out really got its teeth into them so much as brushed past them lightly on its way by. I wish this could have been much longer- I know the ending is open to a sequel, but I feel like a slow buildup would’ve been useful not just for added nuance but to build up the eerie atmosphere more gradually. The pacing here simply didn’t work for me.

The character designs are good, and there’s some memorable panel composition, and nice use of limited palettes- in short, the art is giving my middle-of-the-road rating a bit of a boost.

All in all, there wasn’t really anything objectionable about Let Me Out- but I wouldn’t call it a memorable read or be particularly inclined to recommend it as it didn’t really evoke any emotion in me as a reader.

I received and ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Having heard only vague but lovely things about Frontier, I was very excited to see Floating Hotel come available, and I think Curtis very handily lived up to her budding reputation and the Becky Chambers comparisons.

I adored the narrative structure of this novel, much to my own surprise. Having each chapter from a different POV, with little exception, sounds incredibly difficult to pull off, but Curtis does so with fluid elegance and believability. Each chapter’s narrator feels distinct, but somehow the reading experience isn’t disjointed whatsoever. I absolutely loved the experience of spending a little time in so many people’s heads: seeing characters we’d got to know through narration filtered through the eyes of others, or jumping into the POV of someone unexpected, or who you’d been hoping to inhabit. Moreover, you will wholeheartedly love everyone you spend time with, however short, in a way that is fundamental to themes of the novel. Curtis writes with such astounding empathy, and her strength of imagination goes beyond the interior lives of others…

…Floating Hotel also features, for such a short and character driven novel, some extremely impressive, inventive, and honestly fun worldbuilding- all of which is delivered so seamlessly, you hardly even notice it. The more immediate setting feels like its own lovable character, and despite being short, the pace of this book is pleasantly leisurely: with a few twists and turns along the way. Curtis’ prose is uncomplicated, and often very lovely. Early on in the reading experience, I was inclined to think of this novel as “cosy sci-fi,” but as the stakes were revealed I wondered if it could truly be described that way! Still, as someone who has never read a cosy murder mystery, I feel like this book might have something of that atmosphere- real stakes, but with a beautiful backdrop and a pervasive sense that everything is going to be okay in the end. (Mostly.)

Speaking of the end… I suspect that this is going to be a mostly personal opinion, so please take it with a grain of salt, but I wanted a little more out of the resolution- which is why this is a four star read for me. I appreciated the thematic implications, absolutely, but with so many moving parts to the story, I was really holding out for everything to line up in a beautifully satisfying and surprising way- and yet, the mystery, if you’d call it that, resolved pretty much precisely according to my suspicions, and not in a “aha, I’ve picked up on your clever clues!” way, but more in a “yeah, I figured that made the most sense” way, which was disappointing. If the moments where everything came together were as graceful as the rest of this novel is, I’d award it five stars in a heartbeat. And maybe Curtis’ consistently excellent prose and canny ability to conjure up atmosphere actually lets her down here- an underwhelming ending wouldn’t be nearly so noticeable in a less impressive novel.

Ending aside, Floating Hotel is utterly worth your time. It’s beautifully written, and beautifully imagined, and beautifully human, and I’m fairly confident I’ll seek it out again for a reread sooner than even I think.

I wrote shortly after finishing The Kingdoms: “this made my brain feel like scrambled eggs, but I was still able to follow it,” and whilst that might not be clear, I meant that entirely positively. The Kingdoms is so intricately plotted, I’m absolutely desperate to see how Pulley did it (There has to be a spreadsheet, right?). Whilst not reading it, my thought continually wandered back to it, and I found myself racing through it, snatching chapters in every spare moment I could. The Kingdoms is imaginative, and consistently intriguing, and populated with very vivid characters, with extremely palpable emotions. In fact, palpable emotions seem to be one of Pulley’s unique strengths as a writer here: the protagonist’s emotions saturate her books, and here, that has the effect of grounding a very wild story that could easily lose its reader amongst the shifting tides– but doesn’t for even a moment. It’s always a strong sign when you put down a book excited at the prospect of rereading it, and I cannot wait to do so.

I recieved an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Yellowface 100% lived up to the hype for me. The only other Kuang work I'm familliar with is Babel, and since I know that The Poppy War is also fantasy, I was curious about how her voice would translate to a contemporary thriller. Kuang absolutely kills it- if I hadn't known this was by her, I would've never guessed (well, maybe the preoccupation with translation would've tipped me off, but I think I would've assumed it was merely a nod instead.) Yellowface was absolutely what I'd call compulsively readable- I was glued to it, staying up far too late to read, finishing it under 48 hours- all of that stuff. I've seen people mention having to take breaks from June's narrative voice, and I can understand that- for me, though, this was a car crash I couldn't tear my eyes away from, and I loved every second.

I can't get over June as a protagonist- she's deplorable, obviously, but I think Kuang did a fantastic job at making her, for lack of a better phrase, believably delusional. If you take June's actions out of contexts, they beggar belief: how could anyone do such a thing to someone they still call a friend? Kuang shows you the insidious rationalistion in such a compelling way, you can absolutely see how our protagonist got herself into this situation, and is still convinced she isn't the bad guy, and even feel for her, despite how absolutely awful everything she's doing is. And she's still a person, and the narrative doesn't let you forget it, which is fantastic. Because it's people who do these sorts of things in real life, too.

Like Babel, Yellowface is thematically rich- some themes are directly confronted and some are explored in a subtler fashion. I personally deeply enjoyed the exploration of the line between inspiration and theft, particularly on Athena's part, as the foil to June, here. I think I could read and reread this and get more out of it each and every time.

I could probably wax poetic about this book forever, but others have said it better, and you could be reading a long review for me, or you could be reading Yellowface, and I promise the latter is much, much better. So: Just go read Yellowface.

The first installment of a graphic novel series is often difficult to review: in many ways, it feels like reviewing the first few chapters of a novel. I can say with confidence that The Price of Magic is a very strong start, and sparked a definite desire to continue with the series. There are some interesting ideas being set up here, both in terms of world-building and individual characters.

I will say that I’m grateful not to have read the blurb, and would recommend curious readers skip it, if it’s not too late- with the knowledge that this series draws inspiration from Madoka Magica and similar fare. Despite being aware of the impending change in tone, precisely how the story reached that point definitely surprised me.

I enjoyed the anime-inspired art-style, the fantatical landscape, and the memorable character-designs: it was especialy nice to see some diversity amongst them, both in terms of race and body-types. This is certainly worth your time, especially if you’re a fan of fresh takes on the magical-girl genre.

I received an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

A Trans Man Walks Into a Gay Bar is a sorely needed book right now, with all that’s going on and all the pointless animosity directed at the trans community by certain cohorts of the wider queer community. Nicholas explores queerness eloquently, unflinchingly, and holistically. I’m confident that any trans person who identifies as anything other than straight will see at least a sliver of their own experience reflected back at them, even if it’s in an unexpected way.

This is a collection of essays- a problem I occasionally have with books of this format is the disjointed feel they can have, but ATMWIaGB has a lovely through-line. When I first picked it up, I only intended to read the first couple of pages, and got halfway through the book before I turned out the light. Nicholas weaves his personal experiences with queer history and culture so seamlessly. He’s raw and honest, and all of those other things we usually say in praise of good memoirs.

It can be extremely isolating to be a trans person navigating their sexuality, now more than ever. ATMWIaGB is timely and honest- like an interesting chat with an (intelligent and well spoken!) queer friend in a coffee shop. I believe this book will make lots of people feel less alone, and for that quality I highly recommend it. It also seems like an approachable read for cis people, queer and straight alike, who might be interested in the spaces where gender and sexuality intersect.