This book sure was an experience. It's once again not something I'd normally pick up on my own, but I'm currently in the mood to venture outside of my favorite genres comfort zone, and one of my friends has talked about this novel so much, and also, it's hard to resist a nonbinary/genderfluid protagonist.  

I'm not sure how I feel about this story, or if there's even a story here; it's more, like I said, an experience. The protagonist doesn't so much go through a narrative as experiences things: himself, life, his ability to shapeshift his body into the opposite gender (Paul continues to use he/him pronouns for himself when he is Polly, so I'm doing the same in the review), people, cities, sex—there's definitely a lot of sex here, which may have kept me sort of... detached from the book most of the time. It's not that I have anything against sex; it's just that I'm hella ace, and so this side of life is something that perpetually confuses me. Characters experiencing sex as part of a romance storyline? Cool, I can focus on the romance part and enjoy the scene. Characters experiencing sex for the sake of sex? It's a bit like reading a novel that's all about a job or a hobby that I know nothing of and don't exactly understand the appeal. :D 

Despite that, I found enough traits in Paul to find him relatable and interesting to follow. Unfortunately, I can't say the same about many of the other characters around him—a lot of them seemed pretty one-dimensional. I enjoyed some of the fairy-tailish intermissions that squeezed their way into the 1990s narrative occassionally, but I'm not sure I understood each of their points entirely. Everything about shapeshifters and why/what/who/how they are that way was, to tell the truth, pretty confusing, too. I think that made me enjoy the first part of the book, where Paul was just one of a kind, somewhat more.  

In other words, this novel felt like a kaleidoscope of things: things I liked and things I didn't, things I found super relatable and things I was bored with, things that painted a vivid picture and things that left me confused. It's hard to form a uniform opinion about a reading experience like that, or rate it adequately. I did feel I liked more of those kaleidoscope colors than I didn't. 

This isn't my usual genre at all, but I still enjoyed the book very much. It's sort of a tapestry of lives, intersecting in a cooking class: a young woman chasing her dream and an old woman holding on to her memory; somebody overwhelmed by motherhood and somebody grieving a recent loss; a couple that has preserved their marriage through a rocky road and a couple that comes together as the story unfolds. There is, perhaps, a touch of magical realism in the uncanny ability Lillian, the teacher, displays in selecting the recipes that are most likely to lead her students to the realizations they need to achieve and lessons they need to learn. But then again, is there? It's not like food isn't actually magic. :)

I liked how the book is written: it manages to stay cozy and hopeful even when really difficult subjects are explored. The characters feel alive on the page, and all of them grew on me in one way or another. And every vivid food description was practically its own story. I even took notes on some tricks I want to try when I'm back in the kitchen. 

My impressions after reading this book are pretty mixed. On one hand, I greatly enjoyed the intricacy, inventiveness, and complexity of the plot. There are so many twists and layers here!  On the other hand, it left me completely detached emotionally. The characters felt more like puzzle pieces than people. Then again, this is something I often struggle with when I read plot-focused books, especially mysteries and thrillers.

I would have still given it 5 stars for the plotting along (seriously, how did the author even keep track of this all? wow!), but alas, I'm rounding down. The reason is, quite frankly, blatant fatphobia. It was just... through the roof, and it constantly took me out of the otherwise compelling story to rage and fume. 

A really beautiful book, a kaleidoscope of the stories of women involved in or touched by the Trojan War. Goddesses and mortals, nymphs and muses, queens and war prizes, those caught up in the thick of things and those waiting for the heroes to come home. The ones who are at the center of every retelling and the ones who often don't make it into the abridged versions.

There are a lot of POVs here, slowly forming a single narrative, subtly pointing out how all these lives and fates intersect, influencing each other. How all these women are shaped by war, and by men, and by gods being gods, and by people being people—and how they also affect all of those. Even if it isn't immediately visible. Even if they are too easy to overlook.

My favorite POVs were probably Calliope, as she sings the story to Homer, deliberately twisting the story to draw his attention to those poets don't often see; Penelope, as she grows increasingly frustrated in her wait for Odysseus; and I can't say I liked all those parts with the gods orchestrating the war, because gods at their worst are incredibly hard to like, but I did find them incredibly fascinating.

The prose here is beautiful, the narrative is complex, and the attention to detail breathtaking. I'd like to re-read this book later, at least once—I have a feeling it's the kind of novel where you discover something new each time you crack it open. 

Such a strange and beautiful book. In many ways, this story has all the staples of an epic fantasy. There's a big sprawling world, divided by both distance and time. There's a delightfully complex and inventive magic system that plays a big part in the characters' daily lives. There's a big strife with a spiteful goddess. There's a siege. There's a plot about achieving godhood. 

And yet, the reader is introduced to all of this through a very specific lens: a poly family living in a small corner of the vast world, keeping a house. The story never stops being domestically focused, no matter what great events unfold right in the middle of it, what powers some of the characters wield. When an ancestor arrives with a dangerous secret, the main point is not how that secret might affect the entire world; it's how it will affect this family, this community they're a part of. It's not a story about the world changing; it's a story about several lovable, loving people, and how they manage through it all. If epic slice-of-life is a genre, this book is its peak representative.

As usual, I'm in awe of what Jo Walton does with language, and how she handles her characters, bringing each of them fully to life in all their wonderfully human complexity. And the worldbuilding here! And how language becomes a part of it! And all the wonderful diversity!

Truly a wonderful read, and one that I'm sure will stay on my list of top favorites for years to come. 

I used to love this book as a kid. The last time I had read it must have been when I was eight or nine, which is... a scary number of years ago. Re-reading it now was a fun experience: apparently, I still remember a lot of the scenes by heart, while others felt so new. I legitimately thought something else happened in their place. Then again, as a kid I read this book in translation; perhaps because of that, some accents were placed differently.

As a kid, I naturally was more invested in Arietty and that call of adventure she constantly feels. Now, I found myself looking closer at her parents. For my child self, they were nearly background characters; now, I was amazed to realize how nuanced their characterization is. They're not exactly the people I'd want to hang out with, but their personalities and their relationships to each other and their daughter were so fun to follow. 

I also found myself really enjoying how the story was told, with the "story within a story" framing device, the semi-ambiguous ending, the way the boy who could be the main character of his own tale—someone who's moved overseas to discover a magic world under the floorboards of his new home—simply had a part to play in those not-quite-magic creatures' story. 

There were definitely some issues here that I overlooked as a kid; classism was the most notable. But it was still a very enjoyable read, even now, and the nostalgia might have made it even better. After all, revisiting the books you loved as a child is a lot like revisiting your own past. 

Like all Tamora Pierce's books I've read before, this one was very much a coming-of-age story. However, it also felt pretty difference, both thanks to Beka's narration which seemed a bit different from the usual writing style I expect from the author, and because there's such a big focus on the mystery plot. Which, by the way, was really well-handled—it was fun to follow this investigation, and there were a few quite nail-biting moments. 

Otherwise, I liked the cast of characters and the development they all got, and the found family vibes. Beka's cat companion stole the show more than once. The setting was described vividly, in rich detail, and made me feel like I've really walked the streets of the Lower City. 

The only reason this isn't a five-star read for me is that I never quite clicked with the main character. I liked following what happend to her, but I didn't feel connected to her / didn't enjoy being in her head, I guess? And since the book is written in the form of Beka's journal entries, that often created a bit of dissociation from the story for me. Definitely a me problem and not the book's, or maybe not so much a problem at all as a personal preference—we can't click perfectly with every main character we meet! 

For a story built upon Lovecraftian mythos, this novelette was surprisingly cozy, even though it wasn't without its creepy moments. There's horror here, but it's not the kind of horror that looks to push you away, or make you stop existing; it's the sort that isn't so frightening at all when you look at it closely. Just different. Not what you're used to. Being different doesn't make it terrible, and if it frightens you, it doesn't do so intentionally—and that's exactly how I like my mythos. 

In essence, this is a story about coming home, or rather, about getting ready to come home one day. It reminded me, perhaps predictably, of Ruthanna Emrys's Innsmouth Legacy series, and resonated with me almost as deeply. Perhaps because this part of the mythos is something I've always felt weirdly connected to, on some odd, primal level. 

The ocean will be there, waiting. It can outwait anyone.

I felt like, compared to the first installment in the series, this book has done a bit worse job when it comes to balancing the romance part and the historical urban fantasy/adventurous part. There were moments where the story swung too far into one of those directions. However, it was still an immensely enjoyable read. I really liked the amount of character development here, both for the two protagonists and the side characters who surround them. Also, all the worldbuilding, especially the awesome magic system! So much cool stuff there, and it was all woven beautifully into the plot, information getting revealed as it became relevant, always in a natural way that served the story. The adventure plot was a wild ride with plenty of nail-biting moments. Also, the dialogue! So many cool dialogue-based scenes. 

A tender, enjoyable read that was part friends-to-lovers, part second chance romance, and mostly an exploration of the impact a chronic mental illness can have on lives and relationships. It reminded me a little of Glitterland by Alexis Hall, mostly because the MCs in both books are writers struggling with bipolar, but that's about where similarities end. I wouldn't say one book is better than the other; they're just different stories with different characters, and each has its own value.

The writing style in this one took a bit of getting used to, but it grew on me quickly enough; I felt it did a great job of showing what it's like in Alex's head. I loved the focus on healing and rebuilding, and all the warm family feels. This story felt like somewhat of an intersection of the past and the future, with the character standing on the border between the two, re-examining what brought him to this point he's in and slowly letting his hopes for what comes next become reality. There were a lot of sweet moments here, but the book also didn't shy away from the dark parts of living with a brain that's actively working against you. The disorder I live with is different, but a lot of Alex's experiences (especially his feelings about going on medication) felt extremely relatable.