The opening of the book introduces us to our narrator/detective, Ernest Cunninghum. He promises us that he will tell the truth at all time and follow all of the rules of detective fiction and mysteries. With that we are plunged into chapter one with Ernest’s brother Michael showing up at his house in the middle of the night with a dead body. We jumped ahead three years to a family reunion. Everyone is pretty mad at Ernest for having testified against his brother so this whole situation is pretty awkward. The situation becomes even more awkward when a random man is found dead the second day of the reunion. Fairly quickly the family gets drawn into this murder and each of their own past killings are are revealed. For Ernest is completely correct, everyone in the family has killed someone.

This was just a proper fun time. Ernest was a delightful narrator, telling the story directly to the reader. I have to imagine as an audiobook this is a great time. Given that the book is aware that I was reading this as an ebook, I would think any other version of the book would continue that self-awareness. I loved how Stevenson is aware of how the format of the book itself tells the reader something about who the murderer (or murderers) are. If we’re over halfway through the book, we know that the murderer has already been introduced. He tells us in the prologue the chapters in which anyone dies or we are informed is dead, playing with that material awareness and then still bringing the reader on a twisty ride but with all the clues clearly laid out for us. And I mean clearly. We are given a clear and specific list of all of the clues right before Ernest reveals the answer. The reader is directly given a chance to see if they can solve it themselves (and I will say I got a couple of the reveals correct!).

If you’re looking for a gripping, meta-aware mystery novel with a compelling narrator and believable set of twists and turns, I would definitely recommend this book. I’m already looking forward to reading the next one.

Although no where near as weird as some of the other books I’ve read this year, this one was also odd in a surreal almost dreamy way. Karys is a deathspeaker, someone who has made a pact an Ephirit to receive the ability to look past the Veneer, i.e., into the world of the dead, and speak to ghosts, etc. This also gives her a certain level of access to “see” the magical workings of the world. The issue with these pacts is that eventually the Ephirit who holds the pact will “call” the pact and the human the pact is with will die. Karys has been trying to find ways to avoid this fate for significantly longer than most people are able to stay alive after making a pact. She doesn’t want to die.

Unfortunately for her, at the beginning of the book she gets entangled in a situation that seems to be on a straight track to her death. She binds Ferain, a foreign ambassador to her…shadow? her soul? her body? All of the above? Regardless, they are entangled in a deep and equal parts horrifying and comforting way. And everything progresses from there; we add new people to the party and always new complications and backstories. The writing was immersive and compelling; the characters deep; the world bizarre and fascinating. We are in Karys’s point of view exclusively, but you could tell all of the second characters had their own lives that Karys wasn’t necessarily privy to. She would overhear snippets of conversation or looks shared between other characters that carried weight that Karys didn’t understand. The fact the reader through Karys doesn’t have a good grasp on the lives of the other characters paints Karys, especially in the first half of the book, as pretty selfish, unwilling to ask for or receive help, and more committed to self-preservation over anything else. Her original motivation for helping Ferain is purely transactional, and even as she develops a fondness and (emotional) attachment to him, she keeps trying to convince herself that their whole relationship is purely transactional.

I am of two minds about the book’s ending. The ending leaves space for a second book, but I also want this to be a standalone and let the tragic ending stand. Karys gets what she claimed she always wanted, but it turns out to be nothing at like she imagined or truly wanted. Enough books don’t end tragically lately; I suppose that’s not what people are really looking for, but I loved seeing how different final chapter Karys was from the first chapter. Adding another book that continues her story would follow in a more traditional fantasy duology/trilogy structure, and I want this book to be weird and contemplative and sad. At the same time, I want to know more about Karys and Winola and Heiki because I liked them and liked their relationships. So I don't know what my final takeaway is from this book; I guess I'll see what Hall's next release is.

I was enraptured with this book! When I’ve previously talked about Parliament House Press, I noted that their website promises urban fantasy but that two of the three books I’d read from them were not urban fantasy. That said, I found A Shot of Gin to be the most well-written. Well, my belief that they really need to continue expanding their urban fantasy offerings is affirmed with A Midnight So Deadly (although, yes, this one is also science fiction).

The book is a dual POV that follows Maeve and Peri. They are both dreamers, which is a new career that emerged after the development of technology that allows you to record and share your dreams. Peri is well-established in this world, while Maeve is on the brink of really breaking into the industry. Unfortunately, they both start to experience some odd and dangerous things, sending them into an entirely new world.

The set-up and build-up are both well-executed. Maeve and Peri are fully realized characters with clear personalities (although I did think Peri was older than Maeve). I understand their motivations and internal conflicts and sympathize with them easily. They are people who are easy to love and care for. As we are drawn deeper into the plot, every element of the book we’ve been presented with becomes relevant in different ways to the choices the characters make, each of which has consequences, good and bad. I loved the idea of being able to record dreams and the exploration of how that would impact society. The fact dreams were immediately monetized just makes so much sense to me and was kind of funny. Simultaneously critiquing this choice through the unintended ramifications was also a smart decision and gave the story bigger stakes than just the characters trying to figure out what’s going on with them individually.

My biggest critique of the book is that the ending did not land. While I do think that it was a fitting ending, it was rushed, and the explanation of everything that was going on was thrown at the reader so quickly that you don’t really have a chance to process every part of it before the book is over. Maeve and Peri are able to figure out solutions to all the problems set up in the book far too quickly. I like their solutions, and think that the consequences of those solutions make a lot of sense. I wish coming to those conclusions and enacting them took longer, particularly since Maeve and Peri had not been in the same physical (or dream) space for the entire book up to this point, so giving them some inter-personal conflict as they figure out how to work together would’ve helped start to establish their relationship (because I’m pretty sure this is going to be a series).

I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who is looking to get into the urban fantasy genre from a different angle than the more common paranormal fantasy as long as you don’t mind a bit of a rushed ending. If you’re a character-driven reader, then you’ll particularly enjoy this one too.

In my estimation, this is one of T. Kingfisher’s best yet. She has perfectly blended and balanced the creepiness, the fairy tale vibes, and the found family sincerity. My critiques of her other books have all come back to the idea that something vital was missing that would catapult the book over the edge for me. On the surface so many of her books are right up my alley, but I was left feeling uncertain, unable to fully commit to loving one of her books. This book though combines everything that is great about Kingfisher’s writing into one (almost) perfect package.

The book is a dual POV between Cordelia, a fourteen-year-old girl, and Hester, a woman in her mid-fifties, and the relationship they build because of Cordelia’s mother, Evangeline. Evangeline is the titular sorceress, and she is not a good person, in fact, she is a very abusive person, who does not care one whit about anyone else. She fully views her daughter as an extension of herself—and I don’t mean that metaphorically. Evangeline takes control of her daughter’s body to force her to do and say what her mother wants. Evangeline makes her living as a mistress of wealthy men, but when her current victim (for lack of a better word) breaks things off with her, she needs to find a new “benefactor.” This is where Hester comes in, not because she is going to be a benefactress though. No, Evangeline has set her sights on Hester’s brother, Samuel. Once Evangeline and Cordelia move in as part of Evangeline’s quest to get Samuel to marry her, Hester becomes increasingly suspicious of the woman and her relationship with her daughter. Thus she begins a quest to save her brother, get Cordelia away from her mother’s clutches, and hopefully send Evangeline packing.

As with Kingfisher’s other books, the book moves on the power of its characters and their relationships. Even with a perfectly good teenage girl right there, Hester is truly the book’s heroine. I deeply respect Kingfisher’s insistence on basically screaming from the rooftops that we need to stop letting teenage girls take care of all the world’s problems when there are perfectly good adults around. Cordelia is a victim, and she needs an adult to step in and care for her because she’s a literal child. This was most evident previously in A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking, but all of Kingfisher’s heroines are adults, usually adults in their 30s or older. It just isn’t something you see very often, and I really think should be more prevalent.

Cordelia’s plight as a victim of abuse is so heartbreakingly depicted, particularly when paired with Hester’s slow realization of what is going on. As the reader, we know everything Evangeline is doing to Cordelia, so when we see Hester trying to assume the best or repress her suspicions we want to scream at her. But at the same time, most people don’t want to assume a parent is abusing their child, we want to find another explanation for a child’s strange behavior. Kingfisher presents us with a clear picture of why so many children are abused and no one ever finds out. Even when Cordelia is living in Hester’s house she isn’t able to figure it out for weeks.

Evangeline is probably the weakest character because she isn’t given too much of a backstory; she is more of a bogeyman. But this also makes sense. Most of what we see of Evangeline is from Cordelia’s perspective and her mother is a bogeyman to her. Incredibly isolated, Evangeline is pretty much everything Cordelia knows. From Hester’s point of view, Evangeline isn’t a person to get to know in any way; she’s just a problem to be removed. So the lack of characterization makes sense, but I am curious about her backstory as we get a few snippets—but of course Evangeline could be lying about everything.

The cast of other secondary characters were all absolutely charming. They are primarily Hester’s friends and have known each other for decades, so they have the easy camaraderie of people who have grown up together, who have years of inside jokes and history and shared experiences. I fully believed that Penelope, Hester, and Imogen were long-time girlfriends who had gotten up to all kinds of mischief together. They were a delightful trio, and I hope that every woman has friends who will immediately agree to destroy an evil sorceress with you. Samuel, Hester’s brother, is such a guy. He is affable, not terribly bright, and generally just wants to have a pleasant time with pleasant people. He’s the closest thing this book has to an actual damsel in distress, because the time bomb of the plot is saving him from Evangeline. Finally, Hester’s love interest Richard. They have a very complicated history that serves as a vehicle for Kingfisher to explore Hester’s insecurities as an older woman in some vague Victorian-esque Britain—her looks, her standing in the world, the fact that she’s only allowed to be an unmarried woman in her 50s because of her brother’s sufferance and his money. Richard himself is a delightful person (albeit something of a rule-follower), who is madly in love with her, even if she resists his advances.

My biggest critique is that there is one fairly minor plot point that is briefly made into a bigger plot point near the end and then never really resolved. The action of the book moves in a completely different direction, and we leave that question unanswered. The answer isn’t necessary any longer, I’m just left wondering why we made it a big deal to begin with. All-in-all though I would highly recommend this book to anyone who has previously enjoyed Kingfisher’s work or to someone who didn’t quite like her previous work but like the concept of her work. Or, if you’re unfamiliar with Kingfisher at all, I would recommend this to anyone who likes twisted fairy tale retellings (this is apparently a retelling of “The Goose Girl” which is a fairy tale I’m unfamiliar with), found family tropes, and characters with mommy issues.

The third book in this series picks up where the second one left off pretty much. I like how the books keep picking up where the other one leaves off; I feel like a lot of series have fairly large time jumps between books, so I'm enjoying how these books are more of a continuous journey. It feels kind of like a TV show in some ways, each book as a new season with some new characters introduced and mini-plots as we work toward the big bad. I also greatly appreciate that each book starts with a short recap of what's happened in the previous books. 

I very much liked the setting for this book. Coralind Station sounds like such a cool place to visit; all of these gardens from all of the Known Universe brought together to provide beauty and food and experiences for everyone. That said, I was a little confused about what Festival was actually celebrating and why they were having it. I wanted to see more of the events of Festival; I thought maybe it was something like Carnival but I'm not sure. And that gets to the core of what my main problem with this book was: A lot of really cool and interesting things were introduced, but we jumped over them so quickly I was left feeling unfulfilled. I love this characters; they are so interesting and complicated, and we were given so many new pieces of character hooks, but they weren't developed very far. I know some of them are going to be pursued more fully in the next book, but not all of them. For instance, Skidoo's storyline did not feel as integrated into the rest of the book as the other character's. 

All that said, this book was still a lot of fun. The series is a lot of fun. The characters are a lot of fun. If you're looking for a good space-faring romp with great character, I would definitely check out this series. I think you'll have a good time. 

The first part of this book focuses on character development primarily. Everyone just escaped from a very traumatic situation that resulted in serious loss and sparks a lot of change, and the rest of this book will continue in that trajectory, particularly in introducing two new characters and a new villain. All of our characters develop some more depth, backstory and side quests in interesting ways. Although I understand the structure, I also became frustrated that we took so long to get to any real plot. These characters work best when they are working together on something, confronting some specific problem, and the fact so much of this book is internalized really did it a disservice. I did very much like our new crew additions, and Atlanta’s character arc is really compelling. She’s an interesting character who is really having to grapple with complicated issues of identity and independence in the face of being cut off from everything she knew. 

What a truly bizarre little book that is somehow very sweet and whole despite being about a giant carnivorous mouth in the ground. This book is multi-POV. We are first introduced to Rusty who is a mid-50s loner who is randomly bequeathed 9 acres of land, a house, and Mouth. He is instructed to feed Mouth, a literal mouth in the ground, many mice every day which he can acquire at the local pet store. In addition to being a mouth in the ground, Mouth is also our second POV character. It is quite sad about the death of Wayne, the previous human caring for it, but is excited to be making a new friend. The third POV is the pet store employee who becomes suspicious of how many mice Rusty is buying; she know snakes do not eat that many mice. So she follows Rusty home one day and discovers Mouth. After an initial rough start, the human pair form a bond over the traumatic pasts they are running away from and the traumatic present they’re in, but the hopeful future that might lie before them if they’re willing to embrace this little found family.

I do think this book could’ve been a little bit longer honestly. There are some plot points and character developments we speed-run through a little bit. I wanted to see the relationship between everyone spend a little bit more time developing before we get to the climax of the story. One of the strongest points of weird fiction is the imposition of something so bizarre and unusual on readers and characters, we are forced to confront some unseemly or unfortunate reality. This book does do that, exploring the idea of “are monster made or born” in a unique and refreshing way.

Do you ever read a book that’s so much fun you basically have to immediately go out and get the next one? That was my experience with Silver Under Nightfall. Was this book some absolutely revolutionary piece of writing? No. But it was a fun and emotional ride that hit the highs of joy, hilarity, and found family with the lows of devastating daddy issues and zombie-vampires. Remy is a sweet, precious baby who I want to protect at all costs. All of the vampires who are extremely protective and possessive of him are deeply relatable because they all care about him so deeply and value his safety above everything else. We love some simps.

If you’re looking for a fun vampire ride with strong world-building, nuanced character development, and people who sincerely care for each other even in the worst of circumstances, I would definitely recommend checking this one out.

I’m gonna be honest: romantasy is really not one of my genres. But I was drawn in by the first book in this series, The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy, primarily because the main character is an undertaker, and there was a letter trope, which I love. And then I did very much enjoy the book. Primarily because it delivered what romantasy claims to do: balance a fantasy plot and a romance plot. So when I learned that Bannen had a second book coming out set in the same world, I immediately got myself on the holds list at my library. And this one was even better because there were dragons.

Frank and Twyla are both in their 50s and after Twyla’s husband died and Frank’s wife left him, the next-door-neighbors struck up a a friendship. When Twyla’s daughter decides to go to medical school, Twyla needs to get a higher-paying job. So Frank petitions for her to join the marshals (magic park rangers), and now not only are they best friends but partners in not-crime. Their routine is entirely disrupted when they discover a baby dragon—particularly because dragons are thought to be extinct. Quickly they are sucked into conspiracies and mysteries and so many confusing emotions.

I had such a good time reading this. I was kicking my little feet and clutching my heart and laughing out loud listening to this (aside: the audiobook narrator did a great job!). A super fun time if you’re looking for something light-hearted and cute.

The Thick and the Lean is set in a world like ours in religion, class, philosophy, and race, but rather than a world that thrives off the repression of sex, the people of this culture take every opportunity to indulge. Instead, the shameful activity is eating. Food is heavily restricted, with most people opting for a liquid-based diet that provides only the bare minimum needed for survival. This is the belief of the ALGN, the dominant people group of this area, but there are two others: the Free-Wah and the Ahinga, two people groups who are oppressed and suffered mightily at the hands of the colonizing ALGN when they arrived hundreds of years before. The Free-Wah and the Ahinga do not ascribe to this restrictive diet religion, although the hegemonic beliefs of the ALGN heavily curtail their food practices. The book's first two parts heavily focus on this religious tension and provide a double layer of critique of contemporary American society. First, there is the critique of diet culture and the pressures for women to continually make themselves smaller physically, vocally, emotionally, mentally, and in so many other ways. Second, while not discounting anyone who suffers from eating disorders, this book also levels a harsh critique of fundamentalist and evangelical Christianity’s purity culture. For many, if not most, readers, applying the language of purity culture to food turns the first two parts of the book almost into a satire of purity culture. There’s a poignant scene where one of our main characters, Beatrice, is at a church lock-in (if my reader is not familiar with this practice is very common for teenagers in evangelical churches), which is usually dedicated to teens worshipping and learning about Christian beliefs. The same thing is happening here, but the worship they are engaging is in various sex practices with any number of fellow teenagers. But Beatrice discovers a secret larder in the church kitchen and gets in serious trouble for making a grilled cheese sandwich, just like teens in churches in contemporary America would get in serious trouble for sneaking off to have sex at a real church lock-in.

This brings me to the main characters: Reiko and Beatrice. Reiko is a poor girl raised in the city. The only operative principle of this religion is to become closer to angels rather than humans. Humans can transcend their animality and become more angelic. So this city is built in tiers, with the richest living at the very top and never touching the group. Reiko comes from the lowest part of the city, where the poorest live, mired in dirt. She is also a member of the Free-Wah people and has a rich (if impoverished) food culture. So when she is given a scholarship to a university in the Middle, she experiences extensive culture shock. She thrives in this setting, but her scholarship is ripped away. She can either go into massive debt to continue her education or leave. She picks a third option: a life of crime. Beatrice grows up in Seagate, a strict fundamentalist commune that operates/owns a corporation. All the adults in this commune work for this corporation, primarily interested in developing various supplements and pharmaceuticals that will remove people’s appetites and ability to taste and provide them with all the nutrients they need. Unfortunately, Beatrice is very interested in food. Through clandestine internet chatrooms, she discovers an underground of chefs, recipes, and food, spurring her to flee Seagate for the city where she can (hopefully) pursue her culinary dreams.

That’s the end of part one. In the rest of the book, we follow these two girls as they grow into adulthood and attempt to fulfill their dreams and goals while the world crumbles further around them—more people pushed into poverty to allow those Above (literally) to rise even higher. The stories are told in parallel; the two do not join at some point to become rebels or form a relationship or anything like that. They live their separate lives, allowing the reader to see many different angles of this world and the various impacts of the ALGN's religious (and, therefore, economic) beliefs and practices. Thus, if you are someone primarily motivated by plot and, when confronted with systemic injustice in a book, want to see the system destroyed, this will not be the book for you. We leave the world worse than when we started the book with only the small steps of some of the characters toward making a better world. This is a book about worldviews and how characters navigate those worldviews. How can they balance, if they can, their well-being and the tragedies and horrors of the world? This is the kind of book I love, so I gave it four stars; one deducted only because the plot at points became a little too convenient even for a low-plot book. I would definitely recommend if you are interested in these topics and these kinds of critiques.