Going by the page count and a couple of reviews I skimmed (and possibly misunderstood), I expected the kind of romance that has a lot in the way of external/non-romantic plot. Instead, most of this story is decidedly slice-of-life, with a super strong focus on the characters' relationship and inner world. Honestly, as much as I often enjoy slice-of-life stories, sometimes it got a little too much for me, probably just because of the sheer length of the book. 

That isn't to say that I didn't like it! I have in fact quite enjoyed multiple things about the book. The relationship between Gracewood and Viola was absolutely beautiful. I just wish there wasn't so much repetition in a few parts of the story, where there were entire sections of the two of them walking in circles around a problem without considering more than a single way to solve them (and even then, it was usually only Gracewood considering it in a vague, "But what if something COULD be done about this?" way while Viola was adamant that there is no solution). When those beautiful pining moments were shown so often from different angles, without a lot of events to offset them, they became somewhat... less poignant than I feel they could and should have been. 

I also completely loved how the subject of Viola being trans was handled. Yes, Gracewood was mad at her for leaving him and making him believe his friend was dead, but never for why she did so; in fact, once he properly processed why she did it, it immediately pushed him toward understanding and forgiveness and accepting that this wasn't about him, no matter how it impacted him. I loved how he started thinking about her as Viola as soon as all the dots were connected, and I really liked the writing choices Alexis Hall made to avoid full-scale deadnaming. Every time Viola's pre-transition life is mentioned, she's referred to by her original last name, and the pre-transition first name her family and friends knew her under is never mentioned. This choice feels like the best compromise one could make while staying true to the historical period's realities.

What I liked less was the handling of Gracewood's addiction, disability, and PTSD. Especially addiction and PTSD. It felt kind of like a lot of it just... got better once he focused on being in London and his relationship to Viola, because he decided to stop letting it affect his life so much or something. I'm really not sure it's possible to bounce back so fast from using opium to the extent he was using it early in the novel. Really, a lot of these themes felt like the author meant really well, but under-researched.

There were plenty of side characters here I completely adored, especially Miranda with her sweet quirkiness and her desperate want to have a good relationship with her brother, and Louise with her awesome brand of no-nonsense tough love. All the parts where either or both of them were heavily featured were my absolute favorites! The ton storyline later in the book brought some colorful awful rich people to the table, too—the kind I want to stab with a fork, but also find it fun to watch them in morbid fascination. It's a pity that the whole storyline with Miranda having a season wasn't tightened up a bit, and interwoven in a more solid way and with fewer gaps with the main plot. There was a lot of potential there.

Overall, I'm still glad I stuck through it through all of the slow, circular parts, because the characters were great, there were plenty of great dialogue, and I've barely stopped smiling since I read the epilogue. There's lots of good stuff here! It just... felt like reading a very clean first draft that could use some tightening and trimming down?

I think I expected... more? On one hand, the anthology absolutely does what it says it does, exploring queerness through the use of monsters as metaphors. On the other hand, in many cases the balance was kind of off. Sometimes, I felt like the author really wanted to just write a horror story with queer characters without pulling the themes together. More often, I felt like the author wanted to write about queerness without necessary delving into all that horror-y monster stuff, but they probably wanted to be in the anthology, too. 

Overall, as it often happens with anthologies, this was a rather "hit or miss" experience for me. Two short stories really stood out for me. One was Wooly Bully by Amber Dawn, for its heavy summer vibes and my favorite brand of girlhood horror. The other was The Minotaur and Theseus (And Other Bullshit) by Ben Rawluk, because it's so liminal and weird, the myths and modern life blending together to the point it's unclear where allegory ends and actual events begin, and has so many great lines that cut to the bone. I can't recall any poems that hit me particularly hard, but I'm not too much of a poetry person, tbh!

For some reason, this book made me so incredibly sad. It's not because there's anything wrong with it! I didn't fail to notice the heartwarming ending, nor the very positive message about being yourself whatever other says. I really enjoyed the beautiful art. All the witchiness was awesome, too: the spellcraft, the magic weapons, the sigils, the overall vibes. But the themes just hit so hard. All those gender roles—isn't it utterly stupid that we as a society keep sorting people into two narrow boxes? And Aster's family: his parents seem like such genuinely nice people, except they lead him to believe that if he only could become the kind of person they want him to be, they probably won't care if he learns the necessary skills from a monster. His grandmother sneaks small bits of support his way, but she never openly speaks up in his favor until he does something completely extraordinary with his talents. Like it's not enough to just be himself, he also has to do a really great job against all odds and be a real hero, and then maybe he's going to *start* getting acceptance. There are all those people who claim to love him, but no one's really trying to understand him, and a new friend from the outside world is quickly able to offer him more support about the things that actually matter than all the people who are supposed to care for him combined. That's all so sad, really, and so familiar in certain ways.

Anyway, this is a really good graphic novel, and I feel like those who would benefit most from reading it are, first and foremost, not those who are growing up different but those who surround them. 

I went in expecting a cute romantic short story. What I got felt more like an outline for something longer, expanded into scenes in a few semi-random places. The big reveal was so abrupt and heavy-handed it felt jarring. The external conflict was so jumbled/summarized that it was hard to figure out what it was about in the first place. A new character... sorry, a whole bunch of them, but only one with a name barged into the plot seemingly for the sake of a MC making two funny-ish quip at someone, then hang back. The characters had the barest hints of personalities.

Still, underneath all of these flaws, the story was so promising! There was a strong start with a nice sense of setting, hints at interesting supporting characters (who never really made it into the plot), and a fun POV voice. Oh, and the author also got Slavic names and diminutives completely right, which is always a plus (and sadly an oddly rare one). This could have been a great wintery fairy tale! It just... so clearly wanted to be at least a novella.

I'm afraid this is one of those times when I've built up really high expectations for a book in my head, and then the book and I just didn't click. There were definitely parts of it that I liked; in particular, I was impressed by the vivid, visceral portrayal of colonialism and all the varied harm it can bring. I liked some of the relationships among the Sands. The prose and the pacing both flowed really well for the most part. There were a lot of interesting worldbuilding elements.

Unfortunately, the main characters just... weren't my cup of tea. Both Touraine and Luca made so many downright stupid choices, it was hard to understand how either of them had survived long enough to begin the plot in their respective positions. Touraine's entire personality seemed to be at odds with the role she was in. She literally gets praised by a friend for thinking before she acts, but the fact is, most of the time she very much doesn't. And Luca so clearly lacked the knowledge and understanding of all things political, which was odd considering the way she was brought up. That just kept taking me out of the story.

Also, the romantic storyline that I expected to be one of the main draws was probably my least favorite aspect of the book. Given the premise and how thoroughly colonialism was explored in other parts of the story, I expected the romance to be more explicitly/genuinely enemies-to-lovers, with higher-stakes conflict, and with an equally thorough examining of the oppressor/coloniser dynamic and its inherent toxicity, hopefully with both leads recognizing the toxicity. Instead, all too often it fell into the usual romanticized tropes with little self-awareness. 

Overall, lots of mixed feelings. Perhaps  I would have enjoyed the story more if it was about the same world and events, but with different characters?

There's one thing to be said for this book: it is immensely readable. I got through most of it in one go despite not liking the story much, just because the prose flowed so well and it was so easy to keep turning pages—like eating popcorn. When my attention began to drift, there was always something to pull me back in, whether it was a clever turn of phrase, a point of tension popping up at the exactly right spot, or a fun background happening.

There were some road trip moments that were genuinely enjoyable, such as the whole part with the middle-of-the-nowhere campsite and the elderly lesbian couple that ran it. I also liked Fallon's friends and all the facetiming scene. They were both really nice and reasonable and I wish they were more prominent in the plot. As for the main characters, though... eh. For a while, they were tolerable; the way Fallon kept breaking the fourth wall and acknowledging how strange her choices may look (BUT EMOTIONS) made it easier to stomach the drama. Eventually, though, that got kinda old. Also, her supposed "type A, always have a plan, etc" personality is such an informed attribute, OMG. She clearly likes making plans, yeah, but following through with them? And actually thinking through the things that matter? Nah. She just keeps going with the flow and reacting emotionally instead of thinking, and Chloe keeps doing the same thing but differently, and it was so frustrating to read a whole book of that. Or rather, of all the miscommunication born out of this.

I don't really mind miscommunication as a trope, tbh, but I feel that it is best handled in moderation. Here, the characters miscommunicated before the start of the story, kicking off the entire thing, and then they kept miscommunicating for the entire book, and then in the final act Fallon even acknowledged that there was a lot of miscommunication here! ...And then kept merrily miscommunicating along, committing all the same mistakes: assuming instead of talking, creating false impressions, putting words in Chloe's mouth, etc. And Chloe basically kept on doing the same thing, too. The characters never learn to communicate. There is no process. There is no evidence of them knowing each other all that well in the first place, despite having been friends for ages. Yeah, Chloe remembers Fallon's hobbies and coffee order, but, well. In her own words, it's not that deep. And since there's no process, the moment of communication at the very end feels like it happens by sheer accident, and I get no evidence that they will ever learn to talk to each other. None. Nill. In fact, I closed the book with a distinct impression that as soon as the honeymoon phase fades, there'll just be more drama and problems with obvious solutions (JUST TALK!!!) that no one will bother to implement even if someone provides step-by-step instructions.

I think I would have enjoyed the story more if it wasn't a romcom, but instead some kind of drama leaning deep into this teenage girl messiness, exploring the leads relationship for what it is, perhaps delving into their family history more. After all, both of them have

Mums who prefer manipulation over honest talk

(still mad about that plot twist, so not okay), so that must have left a mark. Show me the crash and the burn and how sometimes, two people just can't communicate with each other to save their lives because being honest and vulnerable would dredge up too much shit from their entire shared history, and I'm here for it. As a romcom, though... I just don't buy it.

Such a fun read! I love it as much as the first installment, and I'm eager to continue the series. Bell and Rakos were so charming together. Both were also kind of dreadful at maintaining their fake identities/concealing the fact that those identities were fake, but hey, they tried! And I can forgive them for being willing to ignore certain persistent coincidences and weird discrepancies about each other. When you catch feelings and really don't want to think about reasons to keep things casual, that kind of happens. :D 

I absolutely adored the balance of tropey romance and fantasy adventure here. This book truly has it all: awesome banter, believable relationship development, some really hot scenes that were very much part of that development, the leads becoming their best selves around each other... and also magical combat, precarious escapes, tense pursuit scenes with dragons, engaging travel, cutthroat court intrigue, and plenty of excitement in general. All the good stuff I love so much about the fusion of romance and fantasy. My favorite part was seeing Bell deal with all that adventure, passion, and character growth while having chronic migraines. I really liked that while his migraines are triggered by exposure to magic among many other things and that Rakos can help him deal with that specific trigger, the problem itself isn't magical and there's no magic cure. Not that I would wish migraines on anyone, even a fictional character. Just... it's always great to see characters with familiar chronic health issues thrive and grow and end up in a good place.

It was also absolutely lovely to see Julien and Whisper again. So often in romance series where the couple changes each book, the protagonists of previous novels sort of fade into the background to become ever-static models of good relationships. It's nice to see this isn't happening here. While neither Julien and Whisper take super active part in the plot, they clearly continue to exist in the world, they're present, their actions and reactions to the book's events matter, and from the glimpses we get into their continuing relationship, they are still growing together. Aww. What's not to love?

I also continue to enjoy the worldbuilding here: the magic system, how queernorm the setting is, how adoption is treated, how sex work is treated as just another profession, the turbulent political landscape, and all the magical beasts. The big telepathic cats from Prince and Assassin were fun; now how about a teleporting ferret? I'd love a blinkmink pet! Okay, well, that's a lie. I'm probably way too much of an anxiety goblin to have a pet that can be anywhere any moment. But I'd love it if one of my friends could have one for me to play with. 

Oh, and speaking of the political landscape: the whole mystery/intrigue here was really tense and exciting, and I'd love to meet Prince Vana again under better circumstances. But this part of the story also contained the one letdown, slightly reminiscent of the problem I had with the subplot about Whisper's sister in book 1. I really, really wish Irenka's storyline played out differently.

It looked so promising at first, and then it continued looking promising albeit precariously, and then it took the most predictable "curse-your-sudden-but-inevitable-betrayal" path possible. Ugh. Why couldn't her role be more ambiguous?

That's really the only reason this isn't a complete five-star mark for me, but it's come so, so close.

Now excuse me, gotta go buy Tavia Lark's entire fantasy romance backlog.

I continue to be in the mood for comic/manga-shaped stories that resemble D&D games, and it made me recall this series that has been on my TBR forever. I was a bit worried it would be kind of gross with all the monster cooking, but with very few exceptions, it's not. It's actually really fun and entertaining.

I did find that it read more like a LitRPG than a fantasy adventure, even though it's technically not one. But there was just so much focus on the mechanical side of things: the levels of the dungeon, the casual resurrections, the monster-fighting strategies and monster "stats." Between all that and the elaborate step-by-step recipes, I'd even say it felt like reading a fictionalized setting book. Especially since the characters were rather one-dimensional for the most part. It took over half of the book for them, starting with Marcille, to begin displaying more than a single trait/skill per character. 

Still, in spite of the above, reading this manga was a rather enjoyable experience, due to all the monster mythology and all the action scenes. I'm likely to continue the series the next time I'm in the mood for something like this.

This is one of those stories that is basically a D&D adventure in book/comic form, and as a longtime TTRPG player, I always love these stories. My favorite thing here is the party dynamic, the found family vibes, and Orrig being the best party Dad ever. There are also all those fun little details about how adventuring is organized in these setting, with lots of bureaucracy and forms around it, and for some reason, I dig this kind of thing.

Mostly though, the story focuses on the first adventure Thistle, the mysterious masked magic user, has with the party: protecting a magic school during mass demon summonings that go dreadfully wrong. On the surface, this looks like a regular action-y adventure plot, but the way demons (the Drath) are handled here goes pretty deep into the realm of anxiety and feeling of self-worth or lack thereof. These creatures are as insidiously evil as demons should be, and the real harm they deal isn't physical. I really liked how these concepts were handled here.

I also appreciated the way the plot was constructed, moving between a later, smaller adventure and this initial one the party has together, the epilogue and all the promises it holds, and, of course, the vivid, gorgeous art. I did feel like there were a few small parts that felt rushed/under-explored, but overall, this was a really engrossing read.

I've seen somebody call this book "grimdark with a soul," and I wholeheartedly agree. The book is dark. There's lots of gore and violence. The whole story centers on a fantasy city that was already on the brink of a revolution, and then a single young woman's action made out of self-interested steered up all the conflicting factions and toppled the dominoes to create the perfect disaster. People die, things get blown up, and not a single character here can be described as a good person.

And yet, through it all, there's an underlying sense of community and bonds and the importance of them. There are touches of kindness and good humor. There are characters who see beauty despite the darkness, who chase their goals in desperate situations, who persevere and survive and help others do the same. There's hope—misplaced and ill-deserved at times, but a hope still.

I love stories like this.

The characters were my favorite aspect of the book. Each of them was three-dimensional and complex. Some made absolutely awful choices, and yet there always was a deep-set reason. I especially loved the female characters; Harriette, of course, with her ingenuity and quick thinking and pure determination; Rowan who seems like the one beacon of kindness in the book with her fierce royalty to her friends even when their actions hurt her, until you realize how little she cares about anyone in the world who isn't *hers*; Aida with her staunch Lawful Neutral values; Misfit of Kantor who is, simply speaking, a delight (and also a walking horror movie); and of course the Cobbler who at the moment ranks somewhere around the top of my favorite chaotic villains of all time. I would never want to be in the same room or even in the same city with her, but damn, she's impressive.

When it comes to worldbuilding, there are a lot of nice touches, but a lot of it also felt underdeveloped somehow. In some cases, it felt justified. I have a lot of questions about fairies and the whole folk horror aspect, but I can appreciate the fact that most of this stuff is something that happens outside of the city limits and belongs to villages and woods, while the book is firmly grounded in the urban setting. So it makes sense to get just bits and pieces and echoes of that aspect of the world. However, the subplot with the Old World artifacts pretty much lost me. I have very little idea what even went on there. Maybe understanding this requires familiarity with the author's other books? But isn't this supposed to be a standalone?

As for the plot as a whole, it was fun, tense, and full of cinematic moments. I did get a feeling that too many twists and important plot points relied a bit too heavily on coincidences, though, or perhaps on chance and good/bad luck. Each of those moments, taken in isolation, made sense, and each of those coincidences was in some way rooted in the relevant character's past actions, so it's not like there were gods springing out of machines or anything. But because there were just so many scenes that could be described as "the character would surely be dead, but suddenly, X," it felt like a bit much. Still, a lot of those very moments I'm talking about were really, really cool! So I think they could simply use some better balancing against the ones where the characters got out (or into) hot spots via more direct actions of their own. 

Oh, and one last thing: the framing device with the letter? That was fun. It kept me guessing throughout most of the book (whose letter was it? what was its significance?) and the answer was so logical, but also something I'd long discarded by the time I reached the end in favor of a more complex and convoluted option :D A really nice touch.