One of the reasons I enjoy K.J. Charles's historicals so much is that they're so well-researched. There were plenty of times I learned some extremely interesting tidbits from her books, and that prompted me to go do some of my own digging on the same subjects, which lead to more learning. That's always a fun thing, for me. This novella deals heavily with the subject I previously knew rather little about, beyond a few cursory things here and there: the world of Victorian pornography. It turned out to be more than a little fascinating, even if offputting at times.

To make it clear, I have nothing against sex work of any sort, provided it is a conscious choice the person made when presented with a number of alternatives that didn't come down to "...or you can always die hungry in the gutter." I feel the same way about any other sort of work. Choices are good and need to be respected. Exploitation is bad and needs to be abolished one day.

This story dug into the places where the "no real other options" situations and the freedom of choice intersect, and the two main characters starting off with polarizing opinions on the subject made this a compelling journey. I suppose I resonated with Vik and his points more, not least because he's overall the sort of character I fall for easily: duty-driven, determined to make the world a better place, fearless when it comes to fighting other people's battles, and yet just this side of a coward when it comes to recognizing his own needs and doing something about it. But also because his arguments made a lot of sense, until he got into the territory where they kind of didn't. Just as Gil's initial points of view felt off to me at the beginning: like, yeah, dude, I get making the best out of a shitty situation, but you're seriously downplaying the "shitty" part and I get why you're doing it, but that doesn't make it right. But then he went on to make points that were really hard to disagree with and even pushed me to interrogate some of my own beliefs, and honestly, this is the kind of stories I enjoy the most: when the narrative clearly shows there's more than one way of looking at the central theme, and the same people can be both right and wrong.

That's what I especially love about "opposites attract" romances, too: those situations when both protagonists very much have a point, fueled by their individual histories and experiences, and instead of one of them inadvertently "changing the other for the better," you can see them both expand each other's horizons. You can see them dig their heels in when it comes to some of their differences, but also take steps to meet each other halfway when it comes to other aspects. That's pretty much exactly what happened here, and it was delightful to read. I also enjoyed the "second chance" aspect of it, and how on one hand, Gil and Vik found it easy to slip into their old dynamic when they allowed themselves to go there, but on the other hand, every step of the way they needed to confront the fact that they've built very separate lives for themselves, and it will take effort and compromise to make those lives compatible.

I also enjoyed the mystery aspect of the story, even though I feel this plotline could have been paced better. There was a point around the middle when it seemed all but forgotten, while in the last chapter and a half a lot of the things just resolved at once (even though every part of that resolution flowed more than naturally out of what happened before, and the small twist made complete sense! It just felt a bit rushed). I also felt like there was one small thread there left unresolved.

Nevertheless, small flaws aside, this was a really good story. I should also mention the narrator of the audiobook: Vikas Adam did a stellar job with this book. I'm especially impressed at how he gave absolutely every character a distinct and recognizable voice; at times, it was hard to believe it was still only one person reading the entire story. He's now definitely on my list of audiobook narrators to look out for!

Full disclosure: I first picked up this book years ago and DNF'ed it pretty quickly because it just failed to grab my interest. Recently, a friend got me to give it another chance, and the same thing almost happened again. Except this time I decided to stick with the book because my friend was so enamoured with it, and usually our tastes run towards similar things. As a result, I did find a good number of things to enjoy about this story, but it definitely took its time growing on me.

When I look back at the book trying to determine what made the first half such a slog, I think maybe a part of it is the slow pacing. Possibly another part is that I always struggle a bit with "Ruritanian" stories, because inserting a brand-new country into a familiar continent with its historical political landscape immediately gets my mind worked up around too much stuff. How does this influence things for real life countries? How does the inclusion of this new geopolitical unit make the entire continent/world work? Oh, we've added magic, too? Hang on, I need flowcharts for all the possibilities. :D That's a total "me" problem, but getting plagued by all those big questions definitely makes it hard to focus on quiet, nearly slice-of-life story like Daughter of Mystery. Perhaps this is why I usually prefer secondary world SFF stories that can be experienced independently of real world history and such.

Back to the book, though: I did enjoy big parts of this quiet, nearly slice-of-life story. Margerit and Barbra both were compelling, fully realized characters. Barbra perhaps more so for me, when it comes to the "compelling" part, mostly because the situation she was in was more interesting and complicating than the more familiar "oh, suddenly I'm a rich heiress!" trope around Margerit. I did feel like this trope was handled well, exploring a lot of the implications of a situation like this, and I thought Margert acted rather cleverly about the whole thing. Sure, she made a number of mistakes along the way, but they were understandable mistakes for someone so young and inexperienced in these matters. But she applied her brain, she kept her eyes open, and she learned, making me believe that this young woman was aiming to be a scholar, not just dreaming of being a scholar. I also really liked how the world was repeatedly shown through different lenses: you can look at things from the "glittering society" level, you can then see how it all works for the servants, then there are all the midway vantage points, etc.

In the same vein, I enjoyed that the initial power imbalance between Margerit and Barbra (because of their "lady and bodyguard" positions) was fully acknowledged and worked with. I do have a bit of mixed feelings about their romance as a whole, though; the pacing of the romantic plotline felt somewhat uneven. First, a lot of thought was put into the slow development of friendship and trust, and then the jump from that to somewhat heated romantic feelings felt rushed and out of sync with the rest of the book. It felt like there were a couple of scenes maybe missing at the time of that transition.

The magical part of the worldbuilding was pretty interesting, with all the mixture of Catolicism and magic; even though some things confused me (because "Ruritanian" stories always confuse me; see above), I was still able to enjoy and appreciate all the cool ideas. I also liked how the inclusion of real life religion didn't feel preachy at all, and the focus of the related scenes was more on the Saints than on God/Jesus.

All in all, this isn't the kind of book I'd call a favorite, but I liked far more about it than I didn't. It's not exactly my thing, but it's good. 

 

This was a pretty enjoyable read. I liked the slow pacing that let me get to know the characters, and the way the past and the present storylines entwined to create a fuller picture. The ending is pretty open, with a number of questions (mostly of the “yes, but how exactly will this work?” variety) left unresolved, but I guess that’s what the sequel is for—and I’ll definitely pick it up at some point. The book is pretty capable of standing on its own, too, though; the characters’ journey toward each other is definitely complete, it’s just that I now want to watch them actually build a life together.

The story is definitely bittersweet, with each of the two leads dealing with quite some baggage, Lance especially. I empathized with his desire to be independent and the way that, due to his complicated childhood, he still keeps falling into the trap of relying on other people. The author did a great job showing how certain childhood experiences shape us and remain relevant in adulthood. Robbie has his own share of deep-set convictions to tackle, what with feeling stuck in the life he chose and his tendency to always put others first. These two complement each other really well in some regards, but I can also see the potential for conflict in the long run, and that’s one the things that made this relationship interesting to follow for me. Another was that, for all of the complications, these two were just so sweet together. The book is full of really heartwarming moments, such as nursing a newborn calf to health together. And there’s that specific rendition of the “only one bed” trope that I’m a sucker for.

I do wish Robbie’s brothers were more present in the main storyline—I feel some on-page interactions between Lance and Danny, at least, could have made the story stronger. The final part of the story also felt somewhat rushed, what with two reveals happening a bit too quickly, without getting processed (especially, without going into spoilers, the family-related one). But all in all, I liked the book very much. 

A quick read with an amazing amount of plot and worldbuilding packed in so few pages. Definitely more of a series teaser than a standalone with a complete feel, but I enjoyed it very much for what it is.

 

There were things about the plot that confused me or, to an extent, annoyed me, but overall, I really liked the feel of the story: the detached, claustrophobic, confusing experience of geeky adolescense. The first brush with things that are too difficult to comprehend and deal with, even for adults. The adults themselves, present and there and in some ways ready to help, but just not close enough. They wouldn't understand, anyway. The gaps between who you'd like to be, and how you perceive yourself, and who you are. All the ways you can be taken advantage of by powers bigger than you are.

A vampire as the centerpiece for the horror part of this plot felt incredibly fitting. Vampires can be the perfect metaphor/vehicle for many bad things, and that definitely includes this brand of isolation.

What deserves a special mention is the depiction of the gradually falling apart D&D group the main character's a part of, and the difference in how the teenage GM treats the other guys around the table and the only female player. That was painfully realistic to me, as an AFAB person who spent a big part of their teenager years seeking escape in tabletop games. I was incredibly lucky to eventually, pretty early on, to stumble upon a group of queer misfits where no one was disadvantaged that way. But still. Familiar.

Things I didn't particularly like:

1. The cover. Don't get me wrong, the artwork is gorgeous, but I have no idea what it has to do with the plot. The vampire depicted on it looks like one of those gothic predators with feelings. The monster in the story is... not that.

2. The "woman in the fridge" trope, present in abundance. To be fair, I felt it was at least acknowledged by the narrative, but I find myself somewhat tired of it these days. 

With a few exceptions, this book told me practically nothing about the author's relationship with the books she's read or her opinions on them. I did learn a lot about the author herself, her family, her boyfriend, her friends, her health, and lots of other things. Some of it was kind of sad. Some of it was laugh out loud funny. 

A lot was both. A lot of it was also weird, but in a relatable kind of way.

Reading this was the equivalent of sitting down with a friend and chatting about absolutely everything that comes to mind. And sometimes mentioning books, too, but you know. As a framing device at best. Or as an excuse to bring up yet another personal anecdote.

Honestly, it was a pretty fun experience. :) 

I picked this book up for the romance, but I stayed for the urban fantasy and the mystery. That part of the book was definitely the main draw for me. The plot is fast-paced and exciting, and the worldbuilding is simply excellent. I wish this was a series, both because the book reads a lot like a series starter and because I just want to spend more time in this version of San Francisco, with all of its creepy faeries and complicated magics. The author has a knack for description that made absolutely every location easy to visualize. It really felt like I was there with the characters.

Roku, the MC, took next to no time to grow on me. I found him a super engaging character; he was fun to follow, fun to worry about whenever he confronted yet another danger the plot threw at him, and his grief for his husband and daughters felt relatable and not overdone. Unfortunately, I can't say the same about the second lead, Trent. I just... never got him, I guess? There were a lot of side characters here who got a lot more of my interest. And the romance/attraction between the two of them felt rushed and, tbh, somewhat unnecessary. Perhaps if this was indeed a series and the relationship between them unfolded gradually, my feelings would be different.

PS: Bob is the best cat ever. Except for my cats, of course. :D 

Definitely a fun read that kept me on the edge of my sit most of the time. I'm amazed at how much action, plot development, and worldbuilding the author has packed into such a short novel (or is it a long novella?). There was absolutely never a dull moment, but at the same time there were a few spaces to take a brief brak and get to know the MC and those who have surrounded her throughout the journey. 

Normally, it's characters that make or break a book for me, but in this case, worldbuilding ruled. All the fantasy races here are absolutely fascinating and inventive. I feel like I would have enjoyed digging through the lore even if there were no particularly compelling characters to accompany me on the journey. I never got to test the theory, though; Hitomi remained relatable and compelling throughout, growing on me more and more with each plot twist she got to struggle against, and while the other characters didn't get much development, they were pretty memorable. 

A deeply engrossing, beautifully written memoir. There is a lot to Joudeh's story; I imagine it took a lot of bravery to let it all out on page—the horrors of living the in war-torn Syria, the difficulties he has faced in his relationship with his father, the personal lowest points, the losses, the moments of hopelessness. At the same time, this book is infused with an incredible dose of hope and inspiration; it was, indeed, dance or die for Joudeh so many times, and each time, he chose to dance.

Speaking of dance, so many ballet-related memoirs pay special attention to the technicalities of classical dance, the exact moves being honed at the barre, the specific details that go into pushing your body beyond the limits to create art. There are preciously little such technicalities in the pages of this book, even though it's evident that dance is something Ahmad lives and breathes since childhood. Dance, for him, doesn't seem to be about exact moves and steps; it just is, whether it's in a studio or on stage, in the privacy of his room or among people, on a roof in the middle of a war-torn city or in Europe with one of the world's best ballet troupes.

One of my favorite thing was how Joudeh described the people that surrounded him durin the different periods of his life. He clearly strives to present everyone as candidely and fully as possible, even the people who didn't have a positive role in his life at all. The way he sees the world is truly as much of a gift as his dance talent.