yourbookishbff's Reviews (650)

It's such an interesting experience to read backwards through an author's catalogue. Having already read Milan's indie-published series, like The Worth Saga and Wedgeford Trials, and most recently, The Brothers Sinister, I'm familiar with her emotionally-charged but delightfully-over-the-top humor and her willingness to tackle political nuances of the time period (particularly dominant forces of imperialism and colonialism) head on. To return to her early Harlequin series is a shift, only because you can see the restraints she's writing within. This feels very classically "historical romance" - male main character instantly lusts after female main character, a woman in disguise and intent on betraying him before she even meets him. You can feel the glimmers of her voice and style here, though not nearly as much of the humor as I've come to love in her books. That said, she executes the primary conflict exactly as I always trust her to - with respect and care for both of her main characters and an innate understanding of how real people operate off-page. She leaves a few notes unchallenged (which surprised me only because she challenges similar scenarios so forcefully in her indie published books) - a backstory for the male main character that has him earning a fortune in India and some deep-rooted classism in the female main character (which is ultimately part of her arc but never feels fully resolved) and side characters. All that said, the power negotiations and explicit discussions around consent are so well done here, as expected - there, Milan never misses! 

I have never been so convinced a book could not work than I was at 98% into this one. I should have trusted, of course, because MacLean sticks the landing and pulls off a character arc I didn't think was possible, creating the only happily-ever-after I wanted for these characters and the only resolution to the primary conflict I could stomach. Holy trauma bonding. 

Sarah, if this was intended to be a Wuthering Heights retelling, please blink twice. 

This is a beautiful reimagining of Wuthering Heights, that brings greater truth and insight to both Heathcliff and Catherine by leaning into the insinuations of the original. We are meant to assume Heathcliff was likely biracial, the son of an Indian sailor or even the illegitimate child of Mr. Earnshaw, in Bronte's telling, but it is unexplored on page, given the white gaze of both author and narrator. In What Souls Are Made Of, Suri expands this assumption, weaves a compelling and believable backstory for it, and brings Catherine into this alternative narrative as well. By doing so, she shines light on the racism, misogyny, and complexity of family and heritage beneath the surface of the original and elevates the story for a new generation of readers. 

Fittingly, Suri's entire storyline takes place in the gap years where Heathcliff disappears in Bronte's narrative, imagining how both Heathcliff and Catherine might have found themselves on different paths, had they only confronted their own trauma and set themselves on paths to healing. We see again and again the path we know these characters took in another, parallel telling, and find relief and joy that they can choose differently in this telling. Suri also gives voice to both Heathcliff and Catherine, making them first-person narrators, dissolving the barriers of Bronte's intentionally distant narrative. 

Lovers of Wuthering Heights will appreciate how deeply Suri is engaging with the original story and expanding it in ways that enter into conversation with Bronte's world and our own in meaningful ways.

This was a book-slump-inducing-book that I wanted to start from the beginning immediately after finishing. I am NOT typically sold on Beauty and the Beast retellings, but this just worked so beautifully for me. I appreciated the progressive interpersonal conflict - first aiming to resolve her lack of confidence in herself and then aiming to resolve their power imbalance and childhood trauma to achieve the happily-ever-after. The push-pull between love and protection was well-done, and neither our Beauty nor our Beast ever felt one-dimensional. The opening scene was a riot, the brothel innuendo had me giddy (while also peeking around a corner for exceedingly-thorough-Nelson), the post-coital conflict had me shrieking with stress and the {redacted} mast scene had me fist pumping and crying in equal measure. This is a HIGH-HEAT MacLean where the intimacy is essential to relational development. I just loved it. The final act was perfect and delivered some of my all-time favorite historical romance beats - sickbed confessions, caretaking, protective women - I just? New favorite MacLean. 

This was a fantastic start to the Bareknuckle Bastards series. I loved the dynamic between Felicity and Devil - emotionally mature woman with a talent for both literal and metaphorical lockpicking eviscerates hot-but-emotionally-constipated Covent Garden smuggler. There are so many moments that stand out - the whispering bench (HOT), the rooftop (SIGH), the hold (SOB). I am grateful to have read this alongside friends, because I would have missed the nods to Rumpelstiltskin (I'm not familiar enough with that story to catch the allusions but love that MacLean has woven these in for savvier readers). If you love high stakes, deathbed confessions, class difference and romances that buck the aristocracy, Wicked and the Wallflower delivers.

Having now read Kaikeyi and Goddess of the River, I appreciate how consistently Patel writes compelling female characters who have complex relationships with intimacy, motherhood, companionship and family. Her retellings explore women in a way that carves out space for all people to be more than they seem and more than they are remembered, and I love reading her characters. Ganga, our goddess-turned-mortal-turned-goddess-again, is no exception and represents so much of what I love in Patel's character-building. And when this story centered Ganga, it worked so well, feeling rooted and intentional and insightful. 

When the story shifted, though, to our large cast of side characters - Bhishma's extended family across three generations, and the many people who intersect with their stories in fortuitous ways - the narrative felt unmoored to me, and the expanded focus made it challenging to connect in the same way with her characters. She's trying to accomplish a LOT in this, condensing the complex tales of the Mahabharata - an epic story in and of itself - into a thread primarily centering Bhishma and Ganga. And I feel like it could have worked had she kept the linear timeline in these sections as well? The addition of 10+ new characters at once, a skip into the middle of action after an extended solo narrative, and then a non-linear storyline filled with a number of asides and flashbacks, made the story feel clunky. 

The final quarter, though, returns to a more linear timeline and centers, again, Ganga and Bhishma, to stunning effect. I loved how Patel concludes the story and the reflections on war and honor, duty and righteousness. Ganga is such a compelling character and her arc in this story is its strongest, by far. Ultimately, I would recommend this to fantasy readers who don't mind referring to frontmatter, enjoy complex retellings and family dramas, love female characters who don't apologize for being whole people, and don't become overly stressed if they can't track third cousins once removed and can just *go with the flow.*

Note: I read an advanced reader copy and did not realize Patel had the family tree available on her website ahead of publication (it is referenced in the ARC frontmatter but is not included). This would have been immensely helpful, and I'm sure readers will appreciate it in finished copies of the book. I so wish I had had it within the advanced reader's copy. 

Thank you to the author and publisher for an advanced reader's copy. 

This was a perfect follow-up to We Could Be So Good, and I know Mark and Eddie will be cozied up in a corner of my heart for a very long time. Like We Could Be So Good, this story excels in the small moments and tiniest gestures. A wide smile, a bowl of cereal with sliced banana, a long-distance phone call, a gifted apartment key all feel as profound as public declarations of love. While this handles heavier themes, like grief and family abandonment, it does so with a gentle touch, a fair amount of humor, and a refreshing amount of emotional maturity (truly, seeing two people assume the best of each other EVEN in arguments is so lovely!). 

I also felt this was less stressful than Nick and Andy's story, simply because we don't have a sub-plot where we're attempting to bust bad cops and there isn't the same looming threat of arrest. While there is still the very real possibility that Mark and Eddie might be discovered and that Eddie's career could be a casualty of that discovery, it is Eddie's frank consideration of this possibility throughout that makes it feel less ominous. I loved how deftly Sebastian shows the push-and-pull for a character like Mark, who was turned out of his home when he came out, has lived without family support since, and lost his partner of seven years without any member of his partner's family even knowing they were together, and now has to find a way to live openly and accept that he deserves someone will love him openly. Eddie's emotional intelligence as he navigates Mark's grief and need for assurance is so moving, and it made the HEA feel secure all the way through.

Once again, Sebastian bakes a five-star trope lasagna, layered with buddy-readers-to-lovers, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn (Mark, please... lives rent-free in my head baby!) and on-page declarations of fidelity (my FAVORITE!). 

I want more books in this universe, pretty please, Cat Sebastian!

Wuthering Heights is a stunning, claustrophobic nightmare of a gothic novel that I appreciate more in my 30s than I did in my teens. I went into this with little memory of the plot - the entirety of my recollection of my senior-year English essay on the subject was “everyone’s awful.” But two of my childhood besties were game for an impromptu buddy (re)read, and there is nothing quite like revisiting a book you didn’t understand on your first read and realizing it’s actually more horrifying than you previously understood (as a parent, the generational cycle of abuse and the childhood trauma wrought by severe isolation, confinement and emotional manipulation color the story for me, now). 

Also on this read, I was more interested in the structure and style. The use of two unreliable narrators is so brilliantly done, where Mr. Lockwood’s diary-style narrative depends entirely on an abbreviated version of Nelly Dean’s narrative, which depends entirely on her retelling of events that happened to other people nearly three decades ago. The layers of bias between us and the events of the story create a feeling of always viewing the action through a fun-house mirror, with the melodrama rendered farcical and the broodiness of the characters and the moors deepening into supernatural terror. 

Ultimately, who but an isolated and introverted young woman confined to the English moors, writing under an alias, defying the strictures of her zealous Christian family members could have written a story even her own sister would later caution is maybe too dark? (Charlotte’s posthumous introduction to the novel is overly apologetic and explanatory to a degree that I really dislike, but her note that her sister’s writing was “moorish, and wild, and knotty as a root of heath” is perfectly said). 

I adore Nick and Andy, Cat Sebastian writing mid-century New York, every single side character, painfully awkward flirting, and even that silly orange cat. This is often described as cozy and low-angst, and that's true for the character interactions - this is flawlessly executed friends-to-lovers, where the characters have deep-seated respected and care for each other, so we always know they will be kind, even when they're dummies. I would note, though, that the external conflict and the periphery of the story is stressy - this is 1950s New York, so it's obviously hostile to queer men, and the threat of the police lurking throughout this entire story had me on edge for a large part of the plot. 
This is for those who love slice-of-life trope lasagna (Can we make that a thing? It's no haphazard trope soup, but a rich and layered dish of all of my very favorite tropes?). If you love friends-to-lovers, caretaking, hurt-him-and-I'll-hurt-you, let-me-make-you-soup, roommates-to-more, etc., this is swoony and delicious. 

Also - I LOVED the bi-awakening we see on page. It is one of the most familiar and affirming I've seen in romance recently, and it gave me lots of fuzzy feelings. 

This was everything I could have hoped for in a Li Tau redemption arc! These two characters are compelling from page one, and their push-and-pull, constant power play, and continual negotiation with each other create such delicious tension and heat. The political machinations in this installment are even more complex than those in Butterfly Swords and (thankfully) more integral to the character conflict and development. Lin's prose - and especially her imagery - is rich and propulsive, and I absolutely loved every beat of this.