First of all: I'm not crying, you're crying.

In all seriousness, I have no idea how Becky Chambers does this. Her stories are always so impossibly, impeccably full of kindness that I almost feel unworthy of reading them, and also like I'm becoming a better person simply by delving into these books. That's especially true when it comes to the Monk & Robot novellas.

I honestly loved every step of this new journey. It was a delight to explore the world of Panga—not just the natural world that served as a backdrop for Dex's inner searchings (and a character in its own right) in the first part of the series, although nature remains incredibly important here, as well. But this time, we get to delve into the inner workings of the society, with their green technologies and beautiful religion and my absolute dream economy system and so many awesome, wholesoome, just plain good people.

I loved exploring several different communities with their own sets of rules and customs.

I loved seeing this world both through Dex's eyes, as a part of it, and through Mosscap's outsider perception.

I loved witnessing the growth in both main characters and the bond they share.

I loved that final conversation about purpose and being good enough just as you are.

And I loved that in the end, it was the journey that mattered, not reaching the destination.

(That is to say, I'd still love to read about the destination and learn even more about the people of Panga. I'd love to read about Dex and Mosscap just hanging out on the beach for however many pages Becky Chambers is willing to give me, too. I don't care. I'm not picky. I just want to hang around for as long as possible in that beautiful world where people are more important than the things we get constantly told are more important than people.)

Talk about mixed feelings! :D This book is basically two stories meshed into one, and I liked some of the things about each, while low-key disliking others. In terms of characterization and personal arc, I vastly prefer Greta to Truman. I feel like she was a lot more relatable and well-written, and I wanted to root for her every inch of the way. Her story about finding herself and slightly belated separation from her family really resonated with me. Truman's journey to sticking up for himself was interesting, but somewhat blander in comparison (and also, Greta kind of did a lot of the work for him, when their storylines intersected directly late in the book?). Although I must say I really loved how invested he was in his bullet journaling!

When it comes to romance, though, I actually liked following Truman's and Ash's relationship more. Despite the largely identical timeframes, it somehow felt less insta-love-y and developed more naturally, and the problems they were facing, especially on Ash's side, were a lot more interesting for me as a reader. I really loved the way they got to know each other while Truman helped with the shop, and Ash's insecurities, and his struggles with being his mom's sole caretaker. Honestly, Ash is probably my favorite character in this one. When it comes to Greta and Carys, though, I was kind of hooked on their story during their first accidental date, but afterward... I don't know, I just didn't *feel* it, and I'm not sure how good they are for each other. Carys has this very understandable thing about borders, being the daughter of a covert narcissist; the narrative seems to portray her as the queen of personal growth, but I got the feeling she isn't completely healed and in her efforts to maintain her own borders may intrude on other people's borders by accident. And Greta's borders are rather fragile as she's only learning to stand on her own as someone other than a sister and a daughter; at the same time, she's also not as careful as she should be around other people's borders, as shown in the story. I don't say that I'm certain they'll become to clash and hold each other back in the long run, but I get the feeling they might, despite all those careful conversations about healthy communication they've had.

In terms of characters who aren't the leads or the romantic interests, I feel like there were too many, and as a result few were fully realized. Like, Greta's sisters are basically "the mean one," "the peacemaker," "the twin," and "the youngest one who has a bit of personality." That's just one example. That's a pity, because all of them sounded really interesting. Perhaps the book would have benefitted from a more quantity over quality approach: a smaller cast with characters the reader could actually get to know.

In terms of plot, this is largely a slice of life story focused on inner journeys, and I'm very much digging that. There were a couple of hiccups I've noticed along the way. Like, there was a certain event that happened in Greta's storyline and then impacted Truman's. Truman didn't even learn about it from Greta, and it wasn't mentioned in any of her chapters at all. I get that it wasn't a super important part of her narrative, but I still feel like it should have been mentioned somehow? As a whole, I expected more intersections between the two lead's journeys to tie it more into a single book. 

What I very much enjoyed was a sense of place and setting. The characters' homes, the small Maine town with all of its small businesses, the strees of New Orleans, the bayou, the community garden with the beehive, the cave by the ocean bay—all of those spots were really vivid and added a lot to my understanding of characters who hung around them.

This book also reminded me why I so seldom pick up Roan Parrish's books, even though a lot of them look so cool and when I do read them, I end up finding something to enjoy every time. Somehow, I just can't click with the author's prose. It's so... unobtrusive to the point of being distracting? I know that makes no sense, but that's how it feels. Maybe one day, I'll be able to put a finger on the source of that disconnect. After all, I'm sure I'll keep occasionally picking up Parrish's books, anyway. Like I said: a lot of them look cool!

Well, once again, I have a lot of feelings. And a lot of thoughts, about this book in particular, but also the trilogy as a whole. I think there's a conclusion I've come to: this entire story would work so much better if it wasn't a romance. Maybe it should have been simply a contemporary or, I don't know, something from the realm of literary fiction, even. Something with a focus on all the different way abuse and trauma can affect people, and those around them; a story showing the different journeys, and their intersections, and how sometimes you need to let go and walk forward. If this story was told that way, without following the necessary constraints of the romance genre, I think I would have loved it wholeheartedly. I probably wouldn't even be frustrated by Caspian over and over again, or at the very least my ratio of frustration to sympathy would skew heavily towards the latter instead of swinging wildly back and forth.

Because honestly, while this is very much a story about love, I don't feel like it's really a love story. I can't really buy the happy ending the characters got, because there's so much working against them, including the super different stages they're on. Arden has come such a long way from the first chapter of the first book, it's almost unbelievable. His is probably one of my favorite character arcs ever. Throughout this book in particular, he's been consistently moving forward, exploring life, facing the consequences of his blunders, admitting responsibility when he messed up, setting up his personal borders, and expanding an infinite amount of empathy toward others. Like, Nathaniel would have been trivially easy for Arden to villainize in his head on more than one occasion, but every time, even when rightfully blaming Nathaniel for certain actions and choices, Arden never forgot that this "other guy" who is hurting the person Arden loves with the purpose of fixing him is also a person with feelings and pains of his own. All in all, Arden is constantly on this upward curve where it's clear things aren't going to be easy, but they're going to be fine in the end. I loved reading about all of his relationships with other people who weren't Caspian: how he maintained his friendship with Nick, how he handled his fuck-up with Ellory, and his entire friendship with benefits with George. It all gave me the impression he was headed toward a good place, in terms of life in general.

Caspian, meanwhile... Well, the way Arden puts it at one point, "It kind of feels like there’s me, and there’s what he went through, but that’s the only thing that counts." I would rephrase it as, "It kind of feels like there's life, and there's what he went through," and Caspian keeps dwelling on the latter. Which is, looking at it outside the romance genre constraints/expectation/structure context, valid. He's been through some super bad shit. It never stopped haunting him. His abuser still shows up in his life all the damn time. I still feel like he's his own main problem at this point, but I'd be interested in seeing how he would approach solving it eventually... without Arden doing all the emotional and psychological heavy lifting. Even by the very end of the book, I don't feel like Caspian is anywhere close to the mental place where he should be for this relationship to work. He's only just beginning. Maybe he'll stop playing this "go away, but don't go too far; you make me so happy, I despise who I am with you; I'll give you everything money can buy, but I won't listen to what you're saying" game he's had going on for three damn books. Maybe. But I actually find it hard to believe that he won't start relapsing, or otherwise letting the trauma rule his life. I guess I'm placing all my hopes on Arden's plan to find that queer-friendly, kink-friendly therapist, because yeah, Arden, you're completely right, the two of you can't do this alone.

Honestly, the first 75% or so of this book were so heavy, there were pages that were painful to read, and I still, for the most part, loved reading that big part because it felt genuine. The characters were steadily growing apart, to the extent that they were in each other's life at all, and painful as it was, it felt like the right trajectory somehow. Maybe they should have grown apart, for a good long while, and then met again when they were in more similar places. Instead, the last ~25% happened, and where the previous part of the book felt genuine, this last act was just so... contrived? Artificial? Like, from the moment the side plot with Arden's father popped up, I just felt like this was a hastily plotted fix-it fanfic written with a purpose to fit the genre convention. Like the author was just sitting there staring at the page and thinking, "Okay, but how do I get them into the same room now? Maybe some really bad thing needs to happen. Is there something I can milk out of the previous two books? Oooh, that backstory about Arden's father, let's try that." Everything that followed afterward was like... in the same vein. 

Also, I am super angry that the villain was left unpunished, theoretically retains the power to intrude on Caspian's entire orbit, and what he tried to do to Arden was swept completely under the rug and Arden wasn't even allowed to process it properly because he needed to go deliver an epiphany to Caspian. Just... ugh. 

All those frustrations aside, though, I loved most of the time I've spent with this trilogy. Because of Arden, mainly. I get the feeling he'll remain my favorite character of all time. I also loved the bubble of people he surrounded himself with, the several trans characters leading happy and fulfilling lives, the kink positivity, the friendships, and Arden's mom and her partners (a big separate yay for poly representation). Also, Alexis Hall's writing is fabulous.

I have some super mixed feelings for this book. On one hand, it looked so promising, and it has delivered on some of those promises. I loved the setting, this quaint, friendly little town, and the plot about saving it from the trap of corporate greed. I liked a lot of the side character. I enjoyed the general wintery second chance vibe and the faint sounds of Taylor Swift's 'Tis the Damn Season playing at the back of my mind as I read. :) The prose was fun and expressive. Based on many of the book's ingredients, I should have liked it a lot.

Unfortunately, I think the problem is I absolutely failed to connect with the main characters. Morgan just... didn't seem like a very pleasant person to me? There's some explanation of why she's so shaken at the beginning to even hear about her hometown and why she alienates the people from her hometown, including her father, so hard, but not nearly enough, and even with the extra details coming up over the course of the story, it feels like she's overreacting. She presents herself as this neat, creative, organized, independent person who can't believe her career imploded over one drunken mistake, but she doesn't really act like this neat, organized person. And while she does exhibit some growth and become more tolerable as the plot progresses, I don't know, it's just not enough for me to find her likable and relatable enough to root for? As for Rachel, the LI,  I just didn't feel like I ever got to know her enough to get a feel for her as a character, which is funny, considering Morgan sure thinks and feels about her a lot. But it's like... there's Morgan's POV, and then there are Morgan's memories of Rachels back when they were both teens, and only then is there the real Rachel.

I guess this is one of those cases when the leading characters make or break a story for me, and it's honestly a pity Morgan and I didn't click to such extent. Because there are lots of nice moments and vibes here. It's basically a cheesy queer Halmark movie of a book, reasonably well-crafted and full of holiday-flavored hope—all things I genuinely love around this time of year.

Well. For the first 85% or so, I liked this even better than book 1. Then the last couple of chapters happened and made me unreasonably mad. :D

I loved Arden even more in this book. He continues to be witty, chaotic, and charming, *and* he also ventures out to explore areas of life that aren't directly connected to his relationship with Caspian. Some of them kind of stem from that relationship, like his friendship with Ellory, Caspian's sister. For some of them, he draws strength and confidence from his relationship to spur him forward in pursuing them, like his new job. But ultimately, instead of constantly being starry-eyed and enamoured with his billionaire boyfriend, he is starry-eyed, enamoured, and his own separate person, too. Hopefully, that trend continues in the last book, because it's a damn good trend.

Caspian frustrated me to no end, even in the parts of the book where he's being nice and is clearly trying to respond to what Arden's asking for. Except half of the time he actually responds to what he thinks Arden's asking for, or to what he thinks Arden should be asking for instead, and sometimes the difference is subtle, but it all amounts to one big clusterfuck at the end. Maybe I would have liked him more if this was a dual POV romance, or maybe I would find him even more obnoxious if I got to spend some time in his head. We do get more info on his backstory and his mental state during this book, and while I absolutely get that he is traumatized, his abuser is still around influencing parts of his life, and he's really not in the right headspace to be making all the best decision... I still don't feel all of that justifies him making all the worst decisions, like he does now and then during the book, culminating in that one chapter at the end where everything crashes and burns. There's what's done to us, and then there's what we do with what's done to us, and the way Caspian goes about the last part is mildly infuriating. He is constantly in knots about "not wanting to hurt Arden," except he's so deadset on continuing to hurt himself, he doesn't truly care how much he hurts others along the way. Yes, Arden also didn't always handle things the best way—sometimes he was too pushy and too insistent on getting the truth as soon as possible, although at least he acknowledged that and drew conclusions, whereas Caspian kept making two steps back for every step forward—but a relationship takes two. (Unless, you know, the times when it takes three, or more, but I digress).

Anyway, all this babbling and ranting aside, I think it's safe to say I enjoyed the book—why else would I be so emotional over it? :D Alexis Hall's writing is great, and there were plenty of quotes here that stood out to me. I loved getting to know all the side characters from the first book better, like Ellory and Bellerose and Nick, and it was awesome to meet new ones, like Nick's sister who is such a ray of sunshine. I really liked how the book was plotted, with all the gradual reveals and small subtle foreshadowing moments. And I kind of want to delve into the final installment of the trilogy immediately, but I also get the feeling it might be even more full of drama. So perhaps a palate cleanser is in order first.

I can't believe how many important themes are presented in this book: feminism, race, class, being a refugee, body autonomy, sexual violence, family relationships across generations, allyship—that's not even a full list. At the same time, the story never reads as a pamphlet on these topics or anything. The characters are fully realized, relatable, and easy to root for, even when they make the kind of messy mistakes that are inevitable when you're a teenager faced with all the complications of the world around you. It was great to see how each of those mistakes made Malena, Ruby, and others around them, like Carlos and Saraida, actually think, analyze, and grow from the experience. I also really liked how the plot beats were distributed across the two POVs, such as showing Ruby's big apology at the end through Malena's POV—it felt important somehow.

One thing I especially enjoyed was the inspection of the intersections of privilege and marginalization; how someone can have more privilege than another person in some situations, but also face the kind of struggles the other person never has to come across. It was shown very well with the relationship between Ruby and Carlos. And something I enjoyed even more was the whole subject of allyship, and how important it is, when you're trying to help somebody to be heard, to amplify their voice instead of crowding it out with yours. No one is better at explaining a struggle and the ways to help with it than the person who's actually facing it.

One thing that made the book a bit difficult to read for me personally was the amount of Spanish. Objectively speaking, I really loved it, because it's genuinely important to the plot that centers on Latinx characters. On the other hand, since I don't know Spanish, it also made it harder to get immersed in Malena's chapters—the number of Spanish words without translation made me acutely aware I was reading about people who are foreigners for me, if that makes sense? I absolutely wouldn't want to lose a single Spanish word from this book, but I would have appreciated it if there were footnotes with translations included. A lot of the time, it was easy enough to fathom out the meaning of most words based on context, but sometimes I felt like I was missing out on some important meanings and I had to stop reading and google. On the plus side, I now feel like my knowledge of Spanish is sliiiiiightly above zero! :D

Alexis Hall is among my favorite authors, and yet I've avoided this particular trilogy on his on purpose for two reasons. Reason A) I've heard it referred to as "Fifty Shades but gay," and I'm really the opposite of a Fifty Shades fun. It's not that I genuinely expected Alexis Hall to write an abusive relationship veiled as a kinky one, but here we come to Reason B) the prologue, which I skimmed at one point courtesy of Amazon's "Look Inside" feature, and it did very much read as "Fifty Shades but gay." So I decided it wasn't for me. But then the other day I was talking to a friend whose tastes I tend to trust, and she mentioned absolutely loving this book, so now here I am. Loving it as well.

While this is without a doubt an homage/response to Fifty Shades, the main character is no Anastasia. Arden understands what he's doing, in some ways better than Caspian does, he's dabbled in kink before, he is aware of his preferences and desires, and he doesn't have an inner goddess, which is also a big plus. Also, he's one of the most charming characters I've ever met. I just love his entire chaotic personality. All of his inner monologues were adorably funny, even when they were genuinely dramatic (or maybe especially then). I was maybe a little bit annoyed about his juvenile approach to his own future, in that "if this was my friend meandering through life like that, I would want to smack him," but he's not my friend, he's a book character, so I can just sit back and enjoy his misadventures. Honestly. Arden is a joy.

Caspian is... less of a joy, admittedly. Unlike the character who clearly inspired him, he doesn't have a red dungeon or a tendency to masquerade abuse as BDSM. What he brings to the table is a lot of repression and this deep-set conviction that his dominant tendencies are terrible somehow. He does seem to genuinely mistake dominance for abuse, and so he shies away from it in ways that aren't healthy for anybody involved. Which alone isn't that frustrating and can be a foundation for a great character arc, except since the whole story is in Arden's POV we don't quite see that arc. What we do see is how over and over again, he gives into those tendencies for a bit, receiving enthusiastic consent, and then immediately backs away, closes off, and resists all of Arden's attempts to actually talk it over. And he also keeps insisting it's for Arden's own good and insinuating that Arden doesn't know what's good for him in the most annoying way possible. I get it, the man probably has some big unresolved trauma he needs to work through with a therapist, but that's, like, a guess I'm basing on things that aren't really in the novel. Yeah, as the HFN ending approached, he expressed a readiness to try and consciously introduce kink in his relationship with Arden, but after all of his previous behavior, that doesn't feel like enough. Then again, I suspect that's what the following couple of books are four.

Despite all of my frustrations of Caspian, I did find some glimpses of his less inhibited, "realer" self interesting, especially through Arden's love-struck eyes, and I appreciated the side of him he showed early on during the phone conversation that sparked this all and then way later when he met Arden's family. I also loved the chemistry the two have, and a lot of their banter. So I'm curious to see more of him and to discover new facts about his past and his relationship with his family (gods, his sister is a mess and needs all of the hugs, hope there's a lot of her in the next two books). 

All in all, this is the kind of angsty wish-fulfillment romance where the circumstances require lots of suspension of disbelief, but all the feels are so real and genuine, and it's the feels I'm after. I'll definitely keep reading.

My feelings on this one are kind of... mixed? On one hand, the story was really immersive in many ways. I felt for Charlie, and a lot of the struggles he was facing felt viscerally relatable. His and my packages of intersecting marginalized identities don't fully intersect, but there were so many details here, like tensing up reflectively at the approach of certain people (white cis men, usually), constantly being on the defensive, expecting snide remarks and humiliation, being genuinely, warmly surprised by the barest minimum of basic respect, of getting seen as a human being and not a collection of all the ways I don't fit "the norm"—yeah. Very familiar, albeit for different reasons in different circumstances.

I normally like small town romances, when they're nice quaint small towns where people look out for each other. Sunset Springs isn't a town like that. There's a handful of decent people, but the overall vibe of ruthless bigotry and hostility to anyone who isn't like everyone else reminded me of the place where I grew up. It was honestly a very unpleasant place, and so I couldn't really understand Jack's insistence on loving it and wanting to stay there for good. Maybe it's a personal thing, a personal difference, but... what is a town if it isn't the people? He doesn't like big city life, well, surely there are in-betweens. There are perhaps friendlier, more inclusive places where one could still work with horses but be mostly surrounded by people who won't ostracize you for being queer. Yeah, you can't completely escape bigotry, but honestly, stumbling upon it on occasion and knowing you have a bunch of safe people around you to lean on is way, way better than constantly navigating a cesspool of hate with only a couple of somewhat awkward allies. The reasons Jack gives for staying—wanting to change the town by his presence, to make it better for the next generation—are noble and good, but I'm uncertain about the angle he's taken. Then again, maybe the town doesn't look that wholly terrible through his lens, since he's still a white cis man even though he's queer. But seeing it through Charlie's lens, well, for me it wasn't even a question whether Charlie should leave again given an option!

As for the romance itself, it was nice in parts—I loved the clear communication, for example. But I think the "friends with benefits to boyfriends" dynamic, the way it played out here, didn't quite work for me. I'm too ace for this shit. :D I also felt like some conversations between the leads weren't really natural. The way they were written, it was like the purpose of exploring the characters and their budding relationship was secondary to using them as mouthpieces to explain in detail how racism, homophobia, and transphobia are bad. Don't get me wrong, they are bad! They are awful! And there are moments in this very book that show that way better than these conversations about how they're bad describe it.

I actually liked the somewhat open bittersweet ending, and how it came full circle to Charlie venturing back into the world he'd left back in the first chapter, hopefully intending to do things slightly differently. But there were a couple of moments that were too much on the bitter side, and even though the leads stayed together and all, their future feels a little too nebulous to fit into the genre convention. Maybe there'll be a sequel?

Huge parts of this were so hilarious! I loved the premise and every appearence of Alexis the talking sword. Or rather, the dissing sword. :D The fantasy setting is so colorful, too, with all those different species and small, fun twists on familiar tropes. I expected a bit more feelings from the romance; as it was, it was like... insta-lust followed by insta-love, pretty much? If that's your thing, you're likely to admire it a lot, since objectively Ruby and Lukka have great chemistry and their scenes together are hot and well-written. So this is purely a matter of preference. 

I enjoyed the author's writing style a lot and I'm excitd to pick up a longer work of hers soon!

This was pretty different from what I expected, but a super enjoyable read regardless! I've seen this book billed as a Sleeping Beauty retelling across a few places; in my opinion, it's really not. There are some Sleeping Beauty-inspired bits for sure, but it's more like an original fairytale in many ways. But there's definitely a very strong fairytale vibe, not just because of all the fairies and magic, but in how it's all handled. The heroes face the gravest of threats every few chapters, constantly finding themselves on the brink of death, but it always works out in the end thanks to the power of love and its many facets—what could be more fairy-tale-like than this? At the same time, the end of the story makes it clear that while the main characters have earned the big glorious happy ending, they haven't exactly emerged from their trials unscathed. I appreciated that realistic touch, and how it did nothing to diminish the overall bright hopefulness of facing the future.

I also thought this would be primarily a romance with some fantasy adventure on the side, but I think this is more of a fantasy adventure with a prominent romantic storyline. The focus is very much on righting the wrongs of the past and saving the island. At the same time, the romance between Larkin and Merrick is of course crucial to the plot, and I really enjoyed how it was handled. The attraction between them sparks fairly early on and they both acknowledge it, to each other as well as to themselves. However, they take their time before they start letting it go anywhere, because they're such different people with backgrounds and values that seem barely compatible at a glance, and more importantly, they have incompatible goals for the future. Larkin wants to leave the island as soon as it's saved. Merrick can't imagine his life without the magic that doesn't exist outside of Eidolonia. They grow closer as they both confront some of their beliefs and display a willingness to achieve compromise. It was beautiful to follow. (Also: I can't quite put a finger on it, but I think I caught some Merthur vibes from this pairing??? I wonder if the author is familiar with that fandom!)

The writing style took a bit of getting used to for me. I started really enjoying it about 4 chapters in; before that, I actually debated DNF'ing (so glad I didn't give in to the urge). I think that's because the first few chapters are largely spent setting the stage, explaining the premise, and outlining the core parts of the worldbuilding. Some of it was heavy-handed at times, to be honest. However, as soon as the stage was set and the characters were free to pursue their goals, the story instantly got super fun and engaging.

Speaking of worldbuilding, it's pretty awesome. I liked how the setting both is and isn't part of our real world, being this liminal area that surrounds the fairy lands. I feel there's a great balance between hard magic bits, such as the rules for different types of witchcraft or for interacting with the fairies, and the more loose, fluid enchantments. The fairies here are probably among my favorite—exactly as wonderful and terrible as they should be. Lastly, as I always tend to do, I appreciated the diversity and queernomaritivity. It was especially great to see a prominent nonbinary character, who is also a parent.