I first read Never Say You Can't Survive when it was published on tor.com as an ongoing series of essays, and I was delighted to re-read the entire collection gathered under one cover. I think this is my favorite writing craft book yet, not least because it's so unlike most others I've read.

In most cases, writing craft books, even when they are infused with personal anecdotes and character, are to some extent like textbooks. They are about providing the reader with instruments and methods. They are about achieving goals. Here's how you write a novel. Here's how you construct a character arc. Here's a story structure template and a guide on how to follow it.

And those books are great; I love taking glimpses into other writers' toolboxes, and I always end up borrowing at least one instrument from each, even though I don't always use those instruments in accordance with the original instructions. But this book resonates with me especially, beause—even though there's a great number of tips and tricks to try here—it's not at all a manual on achieving a goal.

Instead, it focuses on the process.

Charlie Jane Anders isn't here to provide us with a new set of rules, or a framework, or a collection of methods that should result in a novel. Instead, this is simply a book about the joy of storytelling. About making the most of every mistake we make along the way and finding exciting new ways to screw up. About using our stories to learn more about ourselves, and the world around us. About the fun one can have both following and breaking rules, and how every alleged bad writing habit (like having a lot of WIPs, for instance) can be turned around to benefit from it. About relying on our stories to see us through hard times, just like the cover says.

It's not a writing guide; it's a great collection of thoughts on being a writer, and it's incredibly inspiring. 

This was a pretty sweet, short read that I wish could have been expanded into something longer. Every part of worldbuilding that did make it into the story was fascinating; understandably, those parts focused more on the magical plants and their properties—the story is called The Botanist’s Apprentice, after all—but the parts that dealt with the overall magic system were my favorites. I’d love to know more about it, and to see more of the setting in general. Not so much the big picture of these alternate 1920s (I think?) with magic, but just the town around the cottage and the greenhouse where the action took place. There were mentions of the world outside, but no real interactions with it, save for one side character whose sole purpose was to bring the two MCs together.

As for the MCs and the romance itself, again, I loved what I got, but I kept wanting more—something like a wider scope, a bigger picture, a deeper insight into their personalities. For example, there was that entire thing about Eli reconciling his Jewish faith and his magical practice that was mentioned… twice, I think? And it felt like something that really mattered to the character and who he is, so I wish it was explored more.

Overall, though, I did have a good time reading this novella, and I liked how it handled two tropes that are usually super hit or miss for me (mentor/apprentice pairing and sex pollen). In this book, both were definite hits with how they were handled. I also absolutely loved all the descriptions. The author really made every place come to life: the greenhouse, Lord-Harding’s kitchen, the guesthouse Eli stays in. There was always just enough detail to create the overall feeling of the place, and it made the setting, however small and near-claustrophobic it was, really vivid. 

To be honest, this book was... profoundly so-so? The writing was really great most of the time, and there were a lot of cool moments and plotlines. But altogether, as a novel, it just didn't work for me. It felt like there was too much potentially interesting stuff going on with too little of it getting enough attention. It didn't help that I just could get invested neither into the romance part nor into the two leads themselves. I kept wanting to know more about the mafia-related subplots, and what game Seth's father was playing, and a lot of the other stuff, but as soon as I caught a glimpse of something interesting, the two MCs immediately grumbled at each other and had sex. There are ways to write plotty romance where the relationship both remains the central focus and pushes other plot threads events. This isn't one of such books.

Really, though, my main gripe with the book is that I just couldn't root for the couple. Both guys seem like interesting people, individually. Together, for me, they just didn't work, and it felt like a lot of the time both their character arcs and their relationship stagnated instead of developing. I just wanted to push them as far apart as possible and then excitedly watch each of them go on his own journey. Not the feeling I want to get from a romance novel, especially when the starting dynamic the story promised looked so potentially interesting.

I guess it's quite possible this is another case of "it's not you, dear book, it's me."

This was a quick, sweet read that put a smile on my face. I'm a sucker for roommates romances, especialy when those roommates don't hit it off immediately. Also, I really loved the MC's entire big queer found family, and I'm excited to read the rest of the series to see all these other people find their personal happiness, too.

I guess I only have a couple of small complaints:

1) For the first book in a series centered around a tabletop gaming group, there really wasn't enough tabletop gaming. :D

2) And I guess the shift from bickering over household chores and timetables to the first sex scene felt too abrupt for me? Then again, it's quite possible that's a "me" thing. I often find myself a bit thrown by romance storylines where sexual attraction blossoms before every other type of attraction. Guess I'm too ace to get it.

Anyway, this aside, I was happy to spend an evening with this book and I'm already shifting the next installment of Table Topped closer to the top of my TBR tower. 

Overall, this is an engaging, beautifully written short story where the MC is convinced for a big part of the plot that she's a side character in a fairy tale, while actually unknowingly getting tangled in a political plot on the eve of World War Two. Then again, it's possible there is magic and myth involved. The story makes it wonderfully ambiguous.

The one problem I had with it is that the story seems to drag on for a little too long. About two thirds in, I felt there was a great ending point that pulled all the threads together and left ample space for that ambiguity I mentioned. However, after that point the story went on, summarizing what happened to the MC after the main plot. It didn't feel particularly necessary, and reading the cliff's notes version of pretty much her entire life felt strange after the way the first part of the story flowed. 

A really sweet story with some of my favorite tropes. Fake marriage! Friends to lovers! The grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one! Aw. Reading this was a great way to relax and get distracted from various life things. I did feel like the story was a bit rushed at times, which is why I'm not giving it 5 stars. But it was still a really nice read, both because of the romance and the MC's personal character arc. I kinda love those moments when a character finally stands up to controlling parents, as well as moments when someone who's been super focused on work/discipline looks up to catch a glimpse of other, more freeing and fulfilling options—and this manga had both.

I'm honestly not quite sure what made me finish the book. The writing was pleasant enough, I guess? Also, I kept waiting for the story to pick up or for the main character to finally start making decisions, and by the time I gave up on that hope, the book was so close to the end, anyway. 

It's really one of those rare cases where I have next to nothing good to say about the plot or the character. It's a collection of cliches. I have nothing against tried and true tropes; I love them! But I feel like they exist to be explored, or twisted, or put together in ways that at least feel fresh. Here, everything is just played too straight. We have a reluctant protagonist who is oh so special because she's the last of her kind (but she thinks herself plain, and she's permanently stuck in the Refusal of the Call stage of her hero's journey). We have a love triangle layered on top of another love triangle, and the relationship we're (probably) supposed to root for is frankly toxic. We have lots of informed attributes—the main character is supposed to be this smart bookworm, but I'm not sure she's made a single smart decision, and while she reads a lot, it doesn't feel like she thinks that much about what she reads or interacts with the information in ways that aren't simply absorbing facts. 

The worldbuilding held promise, although it was clearly heavily inspired by Avatar the Last Airbender. Even so, I felt like there were potentially exciting twists here and I was excited to learn more. Unfortunately, the characters didn't really interact with the world in a meaningful way most of the time. They simply spoke and read about it a lot. The world barely ever expanded beyond a "generic castle with a generic wizard tower." 

Most of the story also felt pretty juvenile. I know it's YA, but there were times when I thought maybe I was reading an MG book, until a character randomly said something that seemed like a heavy-handed reminder: "Look! They're not that young! They mention sex! It's YA, after all!" 

Perhaps this simply wasn't a book for me. 

Even through a big, long reading slump, I really enjoyed this freeform retelling of Romeo & Juliet. It's a queer m/f romance (one of the leads is bi, the other still hasn't found a label that fits her) with a focus on mental health and co-dependency. I felt like both subjects were handled thoughtfully and realistically. There were a lot of familiar moments here, reminding me of the mistakes I made when I was younger. 

It took me a bit to get used to Jubilee's narrator. On the other hand, Michael Crouch won my heart immediately with the way he handled Ridley's chapters. He did a great job making Ridley's anxiety and depression tangible in each line. I also really liked how the texting chapters were handled, with the audio effects and with both narrators present.

I do wish the book was presented in a way that's more compatible with its contents. The cover and the blurb both make me think I'm in for a light-hearted romcom, and this book isn't that. Yes, there are plenty of cute moments, but overall, the story is pretty heavy and involves dark subjects such as suicidal behavior and domestic abuse. I'm glad I skimmed some reviews before I read it; otherwise I would have expected something very different, and it would have impacted my perception of this overall great novel. 

An engaging and enlightening read. It was all the more impactful for me because I read in while in the middle of a conflict situation: I'm a figure skating fan, and the way the 2022 Olympics is going in terms of this sport... well, let's say it's bringing attention to all the darkest parts of it, and the entire fandom is on fire. It has certainly been an interesting experience, comparing what I see around me with the points this author makes in this book. I was able to immediately apply what I've read to some of hte heated discussions I've been a part of over the last week, and let me tell you, it's hard to disagree with the book on anything. The strategies outlined here were actually really helpful in handling those discussions, as well as detaching myself from the situation and simply observing: who is caught up in the high conflict? Who is tackling this as a healthy, productive conflict? What are the practical differences?

Speaking of which, I really liked how the author draws the line between "bad conflict" and "good conflict" and makes it clear that disagreeing is often all right and healthy. I also enjoyed the emphasis on listening and understanding that doesn't equal agreeing. Overall, I've found a lot of useful tips and lessons here and taken a lot of notes. I often struggle in situations where a lot of emotion is involved, and I can see how these strategies will be super helpful in managing that sort of struggles, even outside of the really big heated conflicts.

The one reason that I'm not giving the book full 5 stars is that I felt it was somewhat chaotically organized. The author uses a number of people's stories to illustrate the points she makes, and sometimes the way the book keept jumping between a bunch of them distracted me from the point itself. 

This story felt as "in-between" as its titular character and its beautiful setting. I can't say I'm abundantly clear on everything that's happened in it, but the author surely knows how to set the mood. The imagery is evocative, and the prose flows well. I could practically hear the sea waves in my ears as I read. I liked the inclusions of Scottish Gaelic, even though it made the story more challenging to process for me (I hardly know more than a few words in that beautiful language). Overall, it feels exactly like an old legend told by a campfire.