I just can't connect with the story. Something about the writing keeps throwing me off (maybe the sudden mid-scene POV changes?). I might try this book again later, because there's certainly some interesting stuff packed into the story. But for now, I'd rather go read something else.

This was quite an enjoyable read! Lots of fast-paced action, witty banter, political conspiracies, threatening the empire in order to save the emperor—what's not to love? I really want to continue with the series now, to see what other adventures the team that got assembled in this book is going to head on. The characters are, without a doubt, the main strength of this story, especially the leads: Amaranthe and Sicarius. I also really liked Sespian and his journey. I wish he got a few more chapters.

I must note that it's the kind of story that requires some suspension of disbelief to enjoy. I don't mean the way you always have to suspend your disbelief when you read about a fantastical setting (the speculative elements here are actually almost downplayed; I can think of only 2 or 3 times where it really mattered that the story was taking place in a steampunk world with magic). What I mean is... Well, let's put it that way: everyone here follows the Rule of Cool.

"This plan is full of holes, doomed to fail, somewhat naive, and yeah, in the highly unlikely chance that it does work, we're going to be gloriously victorious, but I can't imagine it actually working out. Obviously, let's do this!" 

"I'm a villain who turned the emperor into his puppet, and I've overlooked a single small thing: the emperor talked to the wrong person and liked her. Obviously, I can't let this slide. I now have to come up with more evil plans and create a lot of upheaval in the name of stability!"

Yeah. This sort of thing. It's especially visible in the beginning—the first 25% or so. Then, well, I don't think the book ever required me to make fewer wild leaps of logic, but I got used to it and simply enjoyed the ride. Sometimes, you just want to relax and read about witty, likable characters doing cool stuff, and this is just the book for that. 

I initially skipped this book on my journey through the Wayward Children series, because I was more interested in knowing what was going to happen after Beneath the Sugar Sky and to meet Jack and Jill again in Come Tumbling Down. With the nature of this series—installments that form a continuous narrative alternating with "what happened before" books—it's easy to make skips like that. I'm glad that I went back to it and read it, because it's a great addition to the multiverse. I loved getting immersed in the Goblin market with all its rules. I wish I could hang out there for a little longer.

One thing that I found both interesting and somewhat frustrating about the book: how it for the most part skipped the big adventures in favor of showing their effect on Lundi, the metaphorical and literal scars they left, the changes they brought forth. It worked pretty well, but it also left me wishing that I could read a full novel with all of those events. Then again, absolutely every installment in this series has left me with the same feeling, except maybe for the very first book. Show me more! Let me explore all these fascinating worlds from every angle! Don't push me out of it so soon! And that works perfectly with the nature of the series, come to think about it.

All books that, to whatever extent, comply with the traditional Western three-act structure have this part. The beginning of Act I. The introduction. The part before the real adventure starts. It serves to present just enough information about the setting and the overall situation, to introduce the reader to the protagonist, and to hook the reader into the story; to get them invested into the things to come. Some stories, while having overall strong beginnings, don't exactly nail the "hook" part. Maybe they start too early. Maybe they don't put all the focus in the right place. Regardless, it may so happen that by the time the real plot starts unfolding, some readers are already invested in "the world before."

I feel that The Hollow Places is one such story. In all fairness, the stars I'm giving this book mostly come from the first 3-4 chapters. The ones where the characters got introduced, and Carrot kept allowing herself to get distracted from the divorce aftermath by reading fanfic and drinking coffee, and she and Simon were the ultimate dry witty comedic duo exploring that one weird corridor. The ones where the stakes were more personal and everything was full of that special warmhearted quirkiness T. Kingfisher does so well.

And then Carrot and Simon landed in what one of the reviewers called Narnia from Hell and the horror started in earnest. And hey, I picked up this book for the horror! I loved The Twisted Ones, the author's previous horror novel, and I expected to love The Hollow Places just as much. But, unfortunately, I didn't. Oh, the horror is good, make no mistake! It's vivid and visceral, and I love how Kingfisher describes the way her characters interact with horror, the way it slips inside and changes them. The Narnia from Hell was quite the experience. But I kept thinking back to those early 4 chapters and I couldn't help but feel disappointed that, while the story I was actually reading was good, I wasn't getting to read that story I felt I was promised by those chapters. The quirky, weird, more personal one, with potential for more magical realism than horror. So it was kind of... hard to enjoy the story that I was getting and made me focus less on what was going on and more on the moments that reminded me of the promise of the early chapters.

It's a good book, regardless. But maybe the beginning was a little too good? Idk.

 

This was a really fun and relatable read. I mean, sometimes I had to look away from the page because of a certain nearly unbearable degree of secondhand embarrassment for the MC... but that's because I've pretty much recognized myself in some moments. The kind of moments that my brain loves to play on repeat at 2 AM when I'm trying to sleep. Anyway, given that Nicky gets to save the day and have a happy ending and be generally surrounded by people who love him for who he is, even the secondhand embarrassment was surprisingly cathartic. :) 

 

I'm not sure if it's me being genre-savvy or if the plot twists were intentionally written to be as transparent as possible. They were certainly extremely transparent for me, and that's where a lot of the fun from this book came from: I generally knew what was going to happen long before the MC did, but I had no idea how it was going to happen and what was needed to make the MC aware that it's been happening all alone. It's a quality I'm used to finding (and absolutely loving) in fanfic more often than in published books. It was awesome to see it here. Also, fitting, since the MC is a fic writer. (Although I do hope that "best writer in the fandom" is Nicky's own assessment of his talents and not a hard fact. I mean, it's an awesome assessment of one's talents to have! More power to Nicky! It's just that after spending close to 20 years reading fanfic, I know it can be better, okay?)

 

There are plenty of laugh-out-loud moments here, a lot of raw feeling, and the cutest friends-to-lovers slow, slow burn ever. Also, I'm so here for this awesome all-queer cast and all the found family goodness. One thing I can always trust T.J. Klune with: to write a perfect pick-me-up story. I absolutely can't wait to read the sequel!

 

One thing that did make me lower the number of stars just a tiny bit was the presence of what I can only call copaganda. The MC's dad is an awesome character. So is Officer Rookie. I wouldn't want them to be absent from the story in any way. But I could use a bit less of a general "cops are the true heroes and they could have been doing their jobs even better if the Extraordinaries quit messing around the city" feel. It reads weird in today's landscape, and I'm not even American. 

This book has been on my TBR for a while, and I really, really should have read it sooner. The reason I kept postponing is that it was initially recommended to me along with another book, as kind of a package deal: "Here, you'll probably love both of these." I read that other book first, and while in theory it had all the makings of a five-star read for me, in practice many things about it made me angry and frustrated. So I avoided The Murderbot Diaries, fearing it would be frustrate or anger me, too.

Boy, was I wrong. I loved this novella, and I can't wait to embark on more adventures with the Murderbot! The snarky, soap opera-loving, socially anxious SecUnit completely stole my heart. I honestly didn't expect to relate this much to an android built for murder, and yet here I am. But it's not only about the main character; there's a lot of goodness packed in this short book. The setting is painted in pretty broad strokes, and yet there are enough details to hook me and want me to explore it more (I hear there's a full-length novel down the line? YAY!). The plot is fun, tropey in the best way, and full of mystery and adventure. The secondary characters are all interesting and surprisingly fully realized for these word count constraints. I really hope to meet them again in the subsequent installments. Something about this entire story also reminded me a bit of Becky Chambers' books; call it a similar vibe? (I really should re-read Wayfarers, by the way).

Also, that ending? I loved the ending! For the entirety of the last chapter, I thought I had already guessed exactly where it was going. I painted what I expected to be the basic plot of the second book in my head. I sat back to enjoy how exactly this sequence of familiar and beloved tropes was going to play out this time. And then the last page happened, and oh, I really shouldn't have guessed that far ahead.

 

I think this is the first graphic memoir I've ever read, and I absolutely loved it. As an AFAB non-binary person, it made me feel incredibly seen. My experiences with the complicated thing that is gender and everything that surrounds it haven't been identical, but there are so many things in this graphic novel that are still familiar, from all the embarrassing physicality of it, to the deep unease of asking people to use my pronouns along with the deep unease of hearing the wrong ones, to constantly trying to find the right balance in a world that presents you with two types of boxes to sort yourself into—and none of them fits. 

 

It was strangely fun to see the common bits of cultural context the author and I share. All the slash fanfiction. Familiar bands. The mentions of NaNoWriMo. All of it made reading this memoir feel like sitting down for a chat with a friend. That's probably a big part of the reason I devoured it in a single evening. 

 

I should also mention the artwork: I found it lovely and unobtrusive. None of it was unpleasant to look at, except the several things that were supposed to be, none of it clashed with the writing, and none of it made me linger on it studying the details instead of turning the page to read on. That last one is part of the compliment. I think there are comics where you want the reader to pause and admire the art, and then there are the ones where you want the art to be just enough to keep them immersed in the story. This is clearly an example of the latter, and the art does its job beautifully. 

 

All in all, highly recommended to all my fellow genderqueer folx and to anyone who wants to gain a better understanding of what it can be like outside the gender binary.