Despite dealing with difficult subjects, such as PTSD in the immediate aftermath of war, and having a fairly this book feels cozy and quiet. It’s focused on healing in all sorts of ways, and while I felt that some of the nuance was simplified greatly, I appreciated the overall hopeful, gentle vibe. The whole hurt/comfort aspect was pretty well-done, and I’m definitely going to recommend this to those  who are into this trope.

The romance felt kind of rushed, with the characters going from the initial twinge of attraction to deep mutual pining in under 24 hours. I think it more or less made sense for Henry, because he starts off in a really vulnerable state and Theo shows him immediate kindness right when he needs it the most. So he latches on Theo, and there’s that attraction, and it all escalates rather quickly. With Theo, I’m not so sure, but then, I’m overall not sure I’ve got a good understanding of him as a character. Mostly because he’s like… 80% OCD symptoms, 20% personality traits? I’m always very here for mental health rep, but in this case, it felt pretty heavy-handed. On the whole, though, there was some pretty effective chemistry between the two and a lot of nice, tender moments. Even if it sometimes felt like both characters spent more time in their own heads than with each other, lol. I personally enjoy introspection like that, but I can imagine a lot of readers getting a bit frustrated, and this approach really did some not-so-good things to the pacing for sure. 

The magical system turned out to be pretty fun, once I got a good feel for it and for all the small sub-systems like oneiromancy and sortilege. At the very beginning, though, things were a little confusing, which made it harder to get into the external plot with the curse that was stealing Henry’s magic, except the first thing Henry did on the page was *use magic*, and entirely too many chapters passed without giving me enough material to mentally patch this hole in a satisfying way. There were also some other worldbuilding inconsistencies, such as the whole magic college being described in a way that brought to mind a really busy, boisterous campus with students wandering everywhere between studies and entertainment, but then it’s stated at least twice that only about ten students join every year? The math is not mathing.

Despite all those setting-related issues on the bigger, worldbuilding level, I really enjoyed the smaller-scale descriptions. Theo’s rooms, the library, the roof Theo takes Henry to—there wasn’t a single location that didn’t feel real and lived in. The descriptions are lovely and engage all the senses so well. I think a lot of the books coziness comes from how grounded the narrative is in safe, pleasant physical spaces, and that's something I really enjoyed.

Such an entertaining historical fantasy romance! My favorite parts about it were definitely the plotty and worldbuilding-heavy bits. I liked especially how the worldbuilding was revealed, as if in sea waves. First, there’s the magic system becoming more detailed bit by bit, then there’s the faerie subplot, then there’s the big reveal and everything connected to that. The way it was constructed was so appropriate to the vibe and the themes of the story. I  also really liked that in a world with magic that gets actively studied and honed into a science, there was still room for general superstition and “is this hidden reality or genuine myth, and if it’s real, then how (un)like the myths it actually is.” 

Though at the same time, I was also confused by some parts of the setting, such as Soren’s initial reaction to John’s magic being all “what do you mean magic is real?” when later it’s indicated that it’s pretty baked into the society. Yes, it’s not something the nobility does, but clearly it’s a service the nobility purchases. I doubt Soren would be as surprised by the existence of cooks, blacksmiths, or factory workers. So that one discrepancy took me out of the story a bit.

Outside of the above, the book kept me invested for the whole run. The plot was exciting, with something happening all the time. I liked how the mystery was constructed, with the perpetrator being pretty much known from the start and the real question being, “How did he achieve what he did and how do we undo it?” The whole “talking to objects” aspect of the magic system was super inventive and well done. The faeries were a great mix of spooky and beautiful. I liked how the female characters were included into the plot, though perhaps more could have been done on this front.

As for the romance itself, it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea—I’m not big on relationship that start on sexual chemistry alone, and the progression from “we dislike each other but would really like to fuck” to “we’re in love forever” in like a week is just too fast for my personal tastes. But I recognize this is 100% a matter of taste, and I think those who do prefer these specific tropes will find the romantic plot to be rather well done. Hell, at certain points even I felt pretty moved by it!

Such a sweet and wholesome story! I really enjoyed this middle grade romance and the way it tackles so many topics: toxic friendship, friendship break-ups, social anxiety, growing up in the internet age, long-distance friendship, and the way books help us through grief and through other pains life can throw at us. This sounds like a lot, but all these small threads are interwoven together really nicely into a coherent, beautiful tapestry—just like the main character’s knitting project.

The thing that often annoys me in YA and MG, even though I understand where it comes from, is how adults are either absent/useless or they turn into an obstacle for the main characters to overcome, one way or another. Here, there’s none of that. Ingrid’s relationship with her grandmother, in fact, was my favorite part of the book. I loved how, no matter how tough things got for Ingrid at school, she always felt supported and safe at home, and there was enough trust between Ingrid and her grandmother that if Ingrid wanted to keep something to herself for a while, she could just say so (or have her grandmother fathom it out first and help her find the words to put it into). In general, that was just such a good, loving relationship, depicted in a beautifully loving way, and their scenes together constantly made me smile.

I also loved all the geeky, nerdy parts of the plot, like the characters playing the online game together, talking about their favorite book series, or sharing astronomy and knitting facts, and how all of that blended with important conversations about real life issues. I did feel like maybe Lorren was a bit too emotionally mature for her age, and Oliver all around too perfect, to the point that it took me out of the story a little now and then 😅 But really, I didn’t mind because the characters were just so nice. Another random thing I enjoyed were the random bits of queer inclusivity. One of the wrong number texts Ingrid received was about aimed at someone called Todd, and the texter then opened up about helping Todd’s boyfriend with proposal plans. Ingrid doesn’t assume the new online friend’s gender until she knows for sure. When it’s revealed Traveler is a boy, Lorren asks Ingrid if she’s into boys. The MOO the kids play has a “more xp for those who get married in-game” mechanic and allows for same-sex marriages. This isn’t a queer book at all as such, but all these little touches are there and normalize queerness regardless, and I love it, and I love that kids these days get to grow up with books that normalize diversity.

Outside of a couple of characters acting older than their age (mentioned above), I guess the one thing I found a bit grating was the storyline with Ingrid’s Tumblr-equivalent based on the improbable quantities of “wrong number” texts she’s been getting. I guess I don’t need to know *why* she’s been getting so many, but the whole concept didn’t seem to mesh well with the whole concept of her grandmother teaching her to be careful about online safety, anonymity, etc. Especially once the blog started getting popular. Like… someone accidentally texts Ingrid. She posts a screenshot on her blog. The post goes viral. The person who texted her sees the post, checks their text message history, and realizes they now have the popular blogger’s number. They can now post that number somewhere. They can use it to try and doxx Ingrid. Idk, just doesn’t sound very safe, though at the same time, the blog story definitely served as decent connective tissue between other subplots and provided for some fun moments!

I so, so wanted to love this book. From the get go, it seemed to be something right up my alley. I mean, queer lovecraftian romance? I *live* for that kind of thing! And I did find plenty to enjoy about the story, but unfortunately, there was one thing that stopped me from getting properly immersed. Ironically, it’s something that could have been a really strong point in a different book: the author’s voice. The prose is sometimes just a bit too flowery, but overall vivid and engrossing and really beautiful. The problem is, the story is told in two alternating POVs, two women of different backgrounds, personalities, and mindsets. Both POVs are kind of a mixture of first and second person—they’re talking/writing to each other, as this is an epistolary novel. Both clearly intend to pull the reader into depictions of intimate, private experience.

And both of them are identical. Lavinia and Asenath talk in the exact same flowery, convoluted, metaphor-filled style, and there were multiple points throughout the short novel that had me double-checking whose chapter I’m currently reading. And when both POVs are written in the exact same voice, it’s hard not to be aware of the fact that this is actually the *author* talking, not the characters.

So, yeah, despite the prose’s objective beauty, it really messed with my perception of the book and stood in the way of letting me properly enjoy it 😥Which is a shame, because again, the concept of this book is exactly what I want to see more of in fiction, and there were so many amazing descriptions that really set the mood, and the twists on the mythos were perfect and powerful, and the way the narrative touched on perception of disability was so thoughtful, and Lavinia’s whole arc with struggling to reconcile her love for her children and her trauma from everything around their conception and birth left me with a lump in my throat. It could absolutely be a perfect horror romance, if only there were two distinct characters in it.

This was a really heavy read. I can’t say I’ve enjoyed it, because the word “enjoy” sounds like something that should be applied to less stressful experiences. But it’s absolutely a masterfully crafted novel that I’m glad to have read. The way it shines a light on dark times and dark places is fascinating, and I greatly appreciated the focus on the innate human drive for survival and how it can be both a saving grace and a downfall. The narrative explores a lot of things about systemic oppression and generational trauma, but it doesn’t provide answers to all the questions, including the probably most important one: “So how do we live with all this in our pasts?” It very much—purposefully, I feel—leaves the reader to search for it on their own.

It’s hard for me to talk about favorite parts or aspects of the books because my main emotional takeaway from it is, “Wow, this hurts.” But there are absolutely specific thinks I’ve greatly appreciated in terms of how they’re conveyed and how that emotional impact is delivered. In particular, it’s Dana’s second time in the past when she has to witness the patrollers’ brutality toward a slave and she starkly realizes how much more terrible it is in real life compared to all the movies she’s seen, how she’s not prepared to see this and live with it. It’s how her white husband eventually ended up time traveling with her and the stark difference in their perceptions of the nineteenth century, how he just couldn’t grasp certain things he wasn’t at the risk of falling victim to. It’s most of Dana’s interactions with Alice, especially the scene where she lays out Alice’s options regarding Rufus’s interest in her (that one made my blood run cold more than anything else in the book, and there’s a lot of darkness in the book), and a far later one where Alice speaks to Dana about her reasons for wanting, needing to run away. That last one really shows how much Dana has been changed by her experiences, how much she’s internalized from them despite being literally a person from another era.

The writing feels very modern—there was only one time when I was starkly reminded that this was written in the 1970s: a very casual use of the R-word during a flashback threw me off a little. Speaking of those flashbacks, I really liked them—the scenes at the beginning of every new part depicting Dana’s life before the time traveling madness started, her relationship with Kevin, the reactions of their respective families. That extra content provided a sort of a bridge between her present and the past she kept getting plunged in, showing how while the world has come a long way, the past still left scars, and those scars are going to keep being there for a while. 

If I absolutely had to dig for flaws, I would probably mention that sometimes, it was a little too obvious that the characters here are just vehicles for conveying specific ideas and themes, and I would maybe like them to feel more like they could exist outside of this very specific narrative. But this is also one of those books that is completely built around a set of ideas and themes, so it’s less of an actual flaw and more of a “this dish contained parsley, which I like less than I like dill or spring onions” type of complaint.

This was a pretty great emotional rollercoaster, exactly the kind you might except from a YA book that leans hard into the messy, confusing aspects of growing up. I really liked all the friendships and the great relationship the MC had with her sisters. The characters are somewhat archetypical, but there are twists on familiar tropes. The most prominent example is Irene, the LI: she is first introduced as the practically run-of-the-mill mean girl/queen bee, but the more she opens up over the course of the story, the more depths and layers she reveals. She’s honestly my favorite, and a part of me wishes her POV was included in the book, except I also really enjoyed getting to know her through Scottie’s somewhat distorted perception specifically, so the wishing isn’t very strong.

There was a point in the book when I started getting really annoyed with Scottie and how manipulative she was being. Everyone went all about her ex-girlfriend was toxic and bad and had hurt her badly, but with the way Scottie treated Irene and really everyone around her, how was she better? With the way things seemed to be shaping up, it was almost like the narrative expected me to side with Scottie’s bad choices, but there was also Irene pointing out the most non-okay things, even if she largely went along with them at that point, and a bunch of side characters who seemed to be the kind of people who wouldn’t approve of Scottie’s actions if they understood the full picture, so I read on and was rewarded with some great moments of fallout and realization.

Yes, that was the part of the story that was the least romcommy and pretty painful altogether, but I loved the way Scottie had to face her true feelings and everything she’s done while she was hurting. Her conversation about it with her family was awesome—I adored how her parents and sisters all showed her they were on her side, but against her specific self-destructive actions that harmed her and others.

Unfortunately, afterward came my least favorite chapter of the book where all those revelations and the implications behind them got laid out a little too plainly, a little too many times. The author suddenly stopped showing at all and started telling, and at some point I was kind of rolling my eyes, like, I get it! Hurt people hurt people! Can we go back to conveying that point through Scottie’s actual life experiences, as well as through other characters like Irene, Tally, and Charlotte? You’ve been doing so well, book, there was no reason to switch from storytelling to preaching!

Aside from that one hiccup, though, I’ve had great fun. The banter was juicy, the drama was messy, the resolution was cheesy in the best way, and I really, really liked how Scottie’s transition from getting over Tally to falling for Irene to actually being able to be with Irene was handled. Also, big yay for caring family and awesome friends. No matter what was going on in the leads’ lives and how toxic some aspects of it got, each of them always had someone in her corner, and I just found this really, really heartwarming.

This dark fantasy kinda-sorta-romance was off to a very promising start. I immediately liked the setting as it was presented in the first chapter: a kingdom in the aftermath of a bloody war that they could have won, except the king brokered peace that felt like a capitulation/betrayal to many. I was interested in seeing how the veteran MC would fare at court, and what the prince even wanted with him. Unfortunately, the story itself didn’t live up to the premise. In fact, it barely felt like a story, more like a collection of cool dramatic moments that often contradicted each other. I think my favorite part was when

the palace was first presented as this totally inescapable cage for the MC where he had no choice but to do the prince’s bidding or die a painful death, but then he witnesses A Thing that causes an Emotional Outburst and just… escapes. We never even learn how. It just happens between chapters, and then we go straight into the next emotionally charged moment in his new location. And of course, when later in the plot that talent for getting away could come handy, the character no longer possesses it,

because that would interfere with… you’ve guessed it. More big dramatic moments! 🎉

I wish I could end my complaints here, but the least goes on. None of the betrayals were set up properly, it was just “oh, look, X has been one of the bad guys all along,” and nothing at all was consistent. The MC’s feelings and opinions changed based on some arcane unknown factors that mostly amounted to, “what would get him to participate in yet another big dramatic something.” The Decadent Court trope was played so straight it could be used as a laser level. The bad guys were all very bad and cruel and power-hungry, the kind who just want to torture people while listening to the sound of their own voices as they perform villainous monologues.

…Yeah, right, I guess I’ll stop here. 😅 If you’re wondering why I’ve bothered to finish the book at all, well, so do I I guess I was curious about two specific things. One, why did the prince choose Niko? And two, what did he actually want with him? Because every time the subject came up, the guy set different goals. I want you to assassinate someone! I want you to investigate my brother’s murder! I want you to keep me in check in case I get more unhinged than usual! When the actual explanation (I think it was meant to be the true one?) came though, it only left me more confused, mainly because the MC seemed rather unsuited to the purpose and only ever did something toward it because of happenstance and “the plot said so,”, and really, I could name at least 10 simpler, more efficient ways the goal could be achieved without Niko getting underfoot, because that’s what he’s mostly been doing. Also, I still don’t understand why and how and based on what Vasily chose him over just about anyone else at all from outside the palace.

To be fair, there are some interesting ideas past the premise. The whole messy love triangle has something to it, if only it included more subtlety and foreshadowing. Vasily’s arc has a few great moments, if only it also had consistency. The writing is rather good and snappy and conveys all that cool drama well. Most of the scenes are well-structured in isolation, despite not forming a cohesive whole. The worldbuilding contains some interesting details, and the cliffhanger the book ends on promises more of that. Still, I don’t think I’ll be continuing with the series. 

It’s always really hard for me to review poetry, especially when it’s not formal verse (so, you know, most English language poetry these days). So much of it is feelings and vibes, so I guess that’s what I’m basing my impressions on, in big part.

This felt a lot like reading a personal diary, to the point that it made me vaguely uncomfortable and I had to remind myself that no, I hadn’t somehow stolen a secret notebook from under one of my favorite singers’ pillow, I’m allowed to read this. There were some extremely poignant lines, as well as some small parts of otherwise meandering poems where suddenly a mixture of rhythm and rhyme showed up to create clarity and shine a light on an idea. Those really stuck with me.

The way certain imagery showed up across various poems both did and didn’t work for me. Sometimes, those persistent motives linked snippets of life and emotion together in interesting ways, other times, I was a bit like, “Can’t you use a synonym just this once, for variety?”

I think I prefer Halsey’s lyrics to their poems, but this was an interesting experience still. I especially appreciated the poems that spoke about her relationship with creativity and her mental health.

This book very clearly starts a new stage in the series while building up on the plot threads from the first five novels. There’s a big structural change here in terms of switching to dual POV, which helps slightly recontextualize everything that’s happened in the series so far and generally brings a sense of novelty into the narrative. Certain problems that plagued the characters for a big part of the series are shown very firmly as resolved as everyone moves on into the new stages of their lives, but new ones still stem from the events that happened before and the characters still bring all the baggage into these new stages. Narrative decisions are made that feel repetitive at first, but they go into new directions. It’s still the continuation of the same overarching story, but like, if this were a tv show, we’d definitely be in a new season, and that "new season" energy is palpable from the start.

The one thing that immediately stuck out to me early on, even in the middle of all the sadness of the first chapter where Griffin tried to start processing his adopted father’s death, was how Griffin FINALLY acted okay with Whyborne’s magic. FINALLY. I swear the only reason I didn’t yell “HALLELUJAH!” on the top of my lungs was because I started listening at like 2AM and it’s not the neighbors’ fault that I’d been grinding my teeth for almost the entire series waiting for this moment. This was very gratifying. I thought that maybe, just maybe, in book six I’d get to start shipping the romantic leads.

…I did not, in fact, start shipping it, which is really hilarious because I feel like it should be a given that when someone commits to an eleven-book romance series following the same couple, they should be having shippy feelings for said couple, AND YET. I adore everything about this series except for the romance. I grudgingly tolerate the romance and accept that the characters are in love, satisfied with their sex life, and absolutely great for each other in a crisis. Like, when it comes to pulling each other from the brink, giving pep talks during the dark nights of the soul, making grand gestures and declarations in the face of near-existential threats? Sure, they have some absolutely amazing moments there, the kind that often stay to live rent-free in my mind despite my overall lukewarm feelings on the couple. But when it comes to the day-to-day, meh. We get stuff like Griffin conspiring with Christine to not let Whyborne know about certain hardships that await them in Alaska beforehand because “that way we’ll only have to listen to his complaints when we get there, not during the journey” (WTF, Christine, I expected better from you!) and numerous other small moments that make me feel sort of iffy. *Especially* now that we get Griffin’s POV to add to Whyborne’s. 

As much as I’m blah on Griffin as Whyborne’s partner/husband, though, I’ve really come to like him as a character on his own. He’s got such an amazing arc in this book, dealing with grief, internalized homophobia, past trauma, the unexpected supernatural consequences of past trauma, and more, and I’m really happy we get to witness it through his own eyes. His personal journey was my favorite aspect of the book, though I’ve also greatly enjoyed all the other central character arcs. Whyborne’s come such a long way! Truly the epitome of a badass bookworm now 💖 And I love Christine with her drives, and the blunders she makes but then apologize for, and her sense of humor, and her romance arc with Iskander (that one moment when Whyborne and she were stranded underground and she opened up to him about her worries and doubts, I nearly teared up). And Iskander, facing all the changes and adjusting his world views, and so in love with Christine, and just—I really hope he’ll continue to become a more and more prominent presence through the rest of the series, he’s such a great guy.

When it comes to the plot, I felt it unfolded too slowly in the first half, with the characters meandering and not catching important clues. Admittedly, all of them had reasons for those brain farts: Griffin was in the middle of a reunion with his brother and his mind was full of all sorts of other things, Whyborne tried to hold his own in an unfamiliar environment he wasn’t suited or prepared for, and Christine was caught up in the prospect of a great new archeological discovery. But still, I kept wanting to nudge them along. Also, for a while there the whole deal felt like a rehash/mash-up of two earlier books, Threshold and Necropolis. But that feeling of repetitiveness disappeared once shit started really hitting the fan, because the familiar concepts were unfolding so differently. I loved the continued theme of monsters not being inherently evil and how all species can be monsters to each other, and I really liked how the Jake storyline played out. Also, excuse me, the new worldbuilding details? That new faction? Whyborne’s cousins’ plotting? I am now SO looking forward to the rest of the series!

Oh, and speaking of things I’m looking forward two: I really hope that at one point there’ll be a book super focused on the museum Whyborne and Christine work at, because with every glimpse of it I love the crazy plce more and more. The librarians especially, what is even the deal with them, give me more librarians.

Such a fun and heartwarming read! I really enjoyed the combination of the overall romcom vibes and the character depth. Daphne and Miles were great as roommates, friends, and lovers, genuinely bringing out the best in each other at every turn and pushing each other to confront their issues. That’s my favorite type of romance—the kind where the relationship becomes a catalyst for growth. I was also surprised by how well the overlap between the development of their attraction, friendship, and actual romantic feelings worked for me. Normally, I enjoy rather different progressions, but here, their situation and they both in people just made so much sense, I completely bought into it.

I also absolutely adored Miles’s arc. Even though this is a single POV book, his part of the story was so clear, and I felt for him so much. He’s one of those sunshiny characters who are actually hurt and scared inside, and the author masterfully pokes at his wounds while maintaining a sense of hope and healing throughout. It was great to have his younger sister be such a big part of the plot, too, both as means of driving certain points home and because she’s such a great character and the two of them have the best sibling dynamic.

My favorite part was absolutely the way this wasn’t just a love story, but—perhaps even first and foremost—a story of Daphne finding her footing, discovering herself, and separating what she’s been taught to want from what she actually wanted. She stumbled more than a few times a lot of the way, but she ended up in such a good, healthy place and pulled Miles right there after her. I just can’t stop smiling thinking about their ending. Yes, that one chapter near the end got kind of cheesy, but it was a *good* kind of cheesy.

If I have to name any flaws, they’re mostly from the realm of editing (if you’re going to give two characters very similar first and last names as a gimmick, maybe triple-check things to make sure they don’t keep exchanging last names every now and then? 😅) Oh, and while there are plenty of library activities, for a supposed bookworm who loves books so much Daphne doesn’t really spend any time reading (unless it’s for a library activity), not a fan of informed attributes like that. That’s it, that’s literally all I’ve got.