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Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: murder, death, violence, sexual harassment/assault.

Ayleth lives with her coven, safe and secluded from the White King and his tyrannical rule -- and his brutal campaign against witches. But living under her mother's thumb is so oppressive that Ayleth dreams of a world where she can venture out and become the woman she's destined to be. Unlike her elder sister, who was tragically killed by the King's Huntsmen -- an act that Ayleth blames herself for -- Ayleth's gifts have yet to reveal themselves and, as her mother's second, the pressure is mounting the longer it takes for them to manifest. When Ayleth experiences a touch from across the veil of the living and the dead, she is propelled onto a journey that she could never have envisioned, one that will take her into the heart of the White Palace itself. Forced to make an alliance with a witch from her past she hoped never to see again -- the beautiful, rebellious Jacquetta -- Ayleth tries to dodge the deceit and drama of court life, all while hoping to uncover sacred objects from the long, bloody history of her ancestors... and discovers that her own gifts are not what they seem in the process.

Hi, guys! Firstly, let me apologize for how long it's been since I've updated or actually written a review. Life has been absolutely beyond crazy for me the last few months, and it's been a struggle just to keep up with my everyday life, let alone maintain this blog as well as keep on track with my reading. I'm determined to get back into the saddle, though, so here's a review that's been a long time coming! I was very enthused when I saw that Walter was writing The Crimson Crown, inspired by Snow White and elaborating on an origin story for the wicked queen who terrorizes the world of that fairytale. I'm afraid, however, that it did not quite live up to my expectations, and for me, this was a droll read that felt more like a dud than a success.

Previously, I've enjoyed her Malice duology, although its sequel, Misrule, suffered from many of the problems and setbacks that plague The Crimson Crown. Like Malice, this is a sort of feminist, lesbian take on a traditional fairytale, and I think Snow White was a particularly interesting choice: it's one that's always fascinated me, and I felt it was rife with potential for an adaptation like this. The problem is, The Crimson Crown would have been far more enjoyable had it been marketed as its own original story. The elements from Snow White are extremely scarce; there are dwarves, witches, and lots of apple motifs, but beyond that, none of it feels joined together in a way that makes sense for a retelling. Perhaps this will be remedied in the next instalment, but it'll have to pay off in a big way to make up for the lack of it in the entirety of this (rather big) first book. 

My next problem, and one that is unfortunately quite a hindrance to my enjoyment of this book, is our heroine (antiheroine?). Ayleth is, to put it simply, boring. She has a very limited range of emotions, and it seems as though she's constantly just going through a loop of experiencing the same ones over and over again. She has little personality of her own, and I felt that I could have inserted any other character into her place and it would have made little difference. She comes off rather shallow, without much development, and while she does finally begin to become a little more interesting in the very last half of the book, it isn't enough to save her. I found myself rolling my eyes at her more often than not, and her assessments of situations feel painfully naive -- and while I understand that she is young and a little sheltered, her supposed smarts don't seem to come into play much. She's in her early-to-mid twenties, and yet I had to constantly remind myself that she was not a girl of fifteen or sixteen.

Jacquetta, her love interest, is far more interesting and strikes me as full of hidden complexities, but in all honesty, we get very little of her. Most of the side characters are one-dimensional, acting as little more than scene dressing for Ayleth to get from one plot point to the next. My other disappointment is perhaps more to do with my own expectations than anything, but I'll just say that I expected the romance to be between Ayleth and Snow White, and for there to be some deep intrigue there. What we're given instead was quite the disappointment to me. Yet again, this could merely be my fault for having the wrong impression. I must also say, and it pains me to do so, that the writing is painfully juvenile and comes off rather amateurish; it did not feel as though I were reading a book by someone who has written two other successful novels.

All in all, I was not the biggest fan of The Crimson Crown. I know there are lots who love it; you need merely go to its Goodreads page to see that. For me, it just didn't work, and I thought that Ayleth was far too simple for the complex villain she is later intended to become. I might give the next one a shot, but as it stands now, it won't be something I actively seek out. Walter is, again, a successful author, and I very much enjoyed Malice, but for some reason I haven't been meshing with some of her more recent books.

Recommended, however, for those who love fairytales and glittering courts that hide darkness beneath their glamour--that part was very fun to read! 

Book Review: Forbidden Girl by Kristen Zimmer

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Bookouture for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: murder, death, violence (including gun violence), assault, misogyny.

Rowan and Jules have some things in common, like being the daughters of two of Boston's biggest crime lords. But their fathers are deadly rivals, caught up in a dispute that has lasted for years, leaving many casualties in its wake -- and meaning that any contact between the two girls is strictly forbidden. When Rowan and Jules meet, though, they have an immediate connection, one that neither of them can ignore. Rowan, who will one day inherit her father's empire, is as tough as nails; Jules, who longs to live a normal life, far away from the violence of the world her family belongs to, has aspirations of going to college and having a career of her own, one that won't involved blood money. But as the two women keep seeing each other, they have to come to terms with the fact that it can't be a secret forever, and that their relationship could be the undoing of everything -- including their families.

This is another book I chose in an effort to venture out of my reading wheelhouse. Not that I never read books like Forbidden Girl -- a mafia lesbian romance -- but for the most part, I typically stick to historical fiction, lit fic, and fantasy. However, I've recently been craving a book that is a little out of my norm, something that is a bit more fun and a little less serious, and I thought this would be a perfect option.

If you're at all familiar with the romance genre these days, you'll know that mafia stories are a dime a dozen, particularly since the "dark romance" trope has become more and more popular. With that being said, I'm sure Forbidden Girl is not the first lesbian mafia romance, but it's certainly one of very few. I've talked about this a bit in some of my other reviews, but while heterosexual romances are allowed toxicity, complications, and darkness, nearly all lesbian ones are reduced to something soft and "unproblematic." I say specifically "lesbian," because this is not an issue that gay men face to the degree that WLW do  -- their representation is often allowed to be a little messier, and a little darker, and a little more complex. So, I was very excited and intrigued by the premise of this story, which seemed as if it my hold something quite interesting in its pages.

Unfortunately, Forbidden Girl just didn't quite land for me. The writing is relatively faultless, quite well-done, although it's not my style -- too many witty zingers, not enough exploration of emotional depths -- and I do think that Zimmer is undoubtedly very talented. The plot is pretty thin, but as romances typically focus primarily on characterization and relationship development, this isn't much of a problem for me, unless it's actually nonexistent or too absurd. My main problem lies with Rowan and Jules, our heroines, and the establishing of their relationship: it happens off-page.

Yes, this is a romance, and we don't actually get to see their first kiss, first interaction, or how they came to really be attracted or interested in one another in the first place. It's around the 10-15% mark (I can't recall exactly) when they say "I love you." Other readers might not be bothered by this, but I was baffled by the decision. It felt like a cheap copout to have us already in the middle of their relationship, instead of letting it build and grow in front of our eyes. Isn't a romance half about the anticipation of the first time together, the first date, the complexity of being vulnerable?

It was particularly hard to believe that Rowan, who is extremely repressed with most of her emotions (at least, the ones that aren't anger), would be so easily vulnerable. We could say it's because it's "true love" and Jules unarms her, but if we don't experience any growth to get to that moment, it just falls flat. I really like Rowan's character: she's tough and no-nonsense, but there's obviously a softer core hidden within her, one she has to conceal mainly for her own safety. Jules was less interesting, the princess-type who doesn't have much personality going for her beyond that.

I think it would've been rewarding to get to see Rowan have to go through denial after denial, and it would have made sense not only because of her characterization, but because her romance with Jules is extremely forbidden in the first place. I wanted some back-and-forth, but Rowan and Jules never even argue or disagree, or at least not that I can remember. It was all smooth sailing, aside from the obvious disapproval from their families, and it disappointed me that once again, it seems a lesbian relationship is depicted as absolutely perfect, sunshine and rainbows all of the time. 

There's certainly none of the darkness that mafia heroes are allowed; Jules and Rowan are both good people, who only ever act out of love, kindness, or a desire to protect one another. Frankly, it's boring. It would have been interesting to see Rowan more caught up in the gangster lifestyle, perhaps a little more enamored with it, in contrast to Jules's outright dismissal of it. Or perhaps to see her unwillingly drawn into the violence, but occasionally relishing it nonetheless. Anything else would have added a bit of complexity and depth to them, instead of making them seem so wholly virtuous. 

Also, why is it that these sexy, contemporary lesbian romances are strangely sexless? There's about three sex scenes, I think, with Rowan and Jules, and they are extremely brief - typically less than a page. I found it a bit underwhelming, especially in comparison to the exploration of sex and chemistry that most heterosexual couples get in their romances. This is just a taste thing, as some people probably prefer less, some prefer more, but it's something I've taken note of that strikes me as a little odd.

However, there were a lot of moments where I did enjoy Rowan and Jules, and for that, I think it deserves two and a half stars. This book held a lot of disappointment for me, but I think my expectations were maybe a little different than what Zimmer was intending to deliver, so perhaps it's my own fault. The writing, as I mentioned above, was also very good, and I think Zimmer did an excellent job of delivering on the details of a gangster lifestyle, and it never seemed as if she were confused or perhaps a bit unsure about what she was writing about. The emotional beats aren't quite there (for the reasons I listed, and because there were times when I was slightly shocked by how Rowan and Jules didn't seem to really care that much about certain things that happen at the end), but I think many readers will find a lot to love in this book.

Not quite a success for me, but again, I must repeat that my expectations might've been skewed. Zimmer is a good writer, and I think she does a good job with making her relationships cute and sweet; this wasn't my cup of tea, but I can already imagine that there will be many people who love this book, and enjoy Rowan and Jules's playful banter.

Book Review: Cash Delgado is Living the Dream by Tehlor Kay Mejia

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: homophobia/lesbophobia. 

Cash Delgado is happy with her life. She lives in the tiny town of Ridley Falls, works as a manager at a bar called Joyce's, and enjoys every moment she gets with her six-year-old daughter, Parker. And there's Cash's best friend, too, Inez O'Connor, who has a way of making Cash feel that her every dream is somehow possible. But when Chase Stanton, Joyce's old manager -- and Cash's old flame -- comes back to town, she quickly realizes that her life as she knows it is about to get turned completely upside down. Chase has come to gauge the locals, intent on opening up a franchise bar that, ultimately, Cash knows will destroy Joyce's. To top it all off, Cash keeps having dreams about Inez -- and not the kind of dreams that one has about their best friend. Not to mention, Cash is completely straight... right? Determined to keep Joyce's open and scare Chase off their patch, Cash and Inez work together to figure out how they can maintain the peace in their small town, and as they spend long nights together and Cash continues to be plagued by her dreams, she's forced to confront the fact that she might not know who she is... or that she might have been hiding things from herself so deeply that she didn't even know it in the first place.

For full transparency, I was sent a link to this ARC by one of Random House's  marketing managers (thank you, Jordan Hill Forney!) in exchange for my honest review. Initially, I was a bit reluctant to read this, as I'm typically not a fan of contemporary romances, especially ones that feature a lot of the breeziness and humor. There are exceptions to the rule, of course, like Delilah Green Doesn't Care, but for me, they're few and far between. However, I am pleasantly surprised to tell you that Cash Delgado is Living the Dream was a very enjoyable read for me, and I ended up being glad that I decided to pick it up!

Cash is a relatable character, which, ultimately, is what makes a romance worth reading. She's trying to keep on top of everything, but between being a single mom to a six-year-old, working (usually nights), and paying her bills, she's struggling to stay afloat. She's very happy with her life, though, and she's grateful for the community of Ridley Falls, who have accepted her readily as one of their own. She dreams of maybe owning her own bar one day, and has big plans for Joyce's, but unfortunately, those plans involve money that she simply doesn't have. She manages to make it all work partly because of Inez, her best friend, who is sort of like the fire to Cash's water: she's a little rash, a lot brave, and she helps Cash to be brave, too. 

Now, I do have a few issues with the novel, which is obviously why it didn't end up with a full five stars. I debated between giving it three and a half and four, but ultimately, I decided that it deserved the four, as it's well-written, entertaining, and made me curious about what might be next from Mejia. My main problem has to do with Inez and Cash and the development of their relationship. It's a bit more complicated when you're doing a "friends to lovers" story, because the relationship is already halfway developed, and so you sometimes feel as if you've been thrown into the middle (not with this story, thankfully, but with some others I have read before). Mejia manages to avoid the issue I just spoke of, but the chemistry between Inez and Cash is somewhat lacking. We spend so much time caught up in Cash's head and her dreams that it feels as if the real world Inez and Cash don't do all that much interacting.

Actually, let me be a little clearer. It isn't so much the chemistry, which exists, but rather that the development feels rushed, especially considering there's not many romantic moments between Cash and Inez (that don't happen in Cash's mind, at least). The attraction is certainly there, and they have some very sexy moments together, but I wanted more of their developing feelings. I'd even go so far as to say that this isn't primarily a romance, but more about Cash's attempts to save the bar and her efforts at self-discovery, which isn't a bad thing at all, but can be a little jolting when you're expecting more of a straightforward romance. 

My other problem is one that, to be honest, I think a lot of writers struggle with: writing a believable child character. Parker is just a bit too mature and wise beyond her years, serving more as narrative commentary than an actual child. However, I do think it's really difficult to strike the balance with child characters, so it wasn't too disruptive for me --  I could suspend my disbelief, mainly because Mejia's writing is so great and the story itself is so fun. There's a lot of the contemporary romance "quirkiness" which I sometimes find a little grating, but Mejia pulls it off and somehow makes it feel totally earnest and genuine.

I know I've mentioned it several times by now, but Mejia's writing really is fantastic. The tone maintained throughout is lighthearted and fun, beautifully described, but Mejia never shies away from exploring some of the heaviness of coming to terms with your sexuality and identity. All in all, I think this is definitely a success, and I'll be eager to see what Mejia comes up with next!

I mean, this book has mini donkeys. That's basically a guarantee that I'll like it. 

Recommended, especially for those who like stories of found families and friendship that turns into something more.

Book Review: Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane, #1) by Elizabeth Hoyt

 

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Content Warning: violence, death, child abuse, sexual harassment, sexual assault.

Temperance Dews knows the streets of St. Giles well. She's grown up amongst the rabble and poverty, and now that she is a widow, she finds herself working at her family's orphanage, alongside her duty-conscious brother, Winter. But Temperance and Winter find themselves in a difficult situation: there is no funding for the home, and without a wealthy patron, it is only a matter of time before the doors are closed. Lazarus Huntington, Lord Caire, is just as desperate as Temperance is -- but his desperation comes from something else: the hunt for a murderer. Caire makes Temperance an offer: if she will act as his guide in St. Giles, he will do his best to help her find the foundling home a patron. As the two of them get closer to the truth, however, they also find themselves drawn together, attracted to one another despite their secrets and dark pasts, and Temperance is faced with a temptation she vowed to never give into again.

This is something a little different for me! I used to read a lot of romance novels, and while I still find them fun, my interest has waned over the years. My sister just read this, and she recommended it highly, so I thought I might give it a go myself -- and I wasn't disappointed. Hoyt's writing is simple and to the point, but she has a masterful way of conveying emotions that is pretty much a requirement for me to enjoy a romance novel.

I very much liked the setting for this one -- St. Giles, in the West End of London. Known for its roughness, it played a pivotal role during the Gin Craze, which Hoyt incorporates into her story. The time period caught my eye as well: the very early 18th century, which I feel is often neglected in romance novels, particularly in favor of Victorian or Regency era settings. Hoyt does a fantastic job of transporting us to time and place, although there were occasions where I wished she would have elaborated a bit more on the surroundings of the foundling home and perhaps gone a bit deeper with regards to the lives of those in St. Giles. 

The plot is pretty thin, but I think that's often the case in romance novels, as the focus is more on the characters and their emotional development, so I didn't mind it too much. I did question Lazarus's motivations, and while there is an explanation on them, I found it a little weak. It often seemed that it was nothing more than an excuse to have Lazarus and Temperance forced into working with one another, which I guess isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I never felt fully convinced by Lazarus's part of the story.

The romance itself is excellent, and I loved both Temperance and Lazarus, individually and together. I often find the heroes to be overly cruel or rude to their heroines, but Lazarus struck a perfect balance, managing to anger Temperance and calm her in equal measure. I liked their interplay, and thought the dialogue between them was fantastic. They have a way of balancing each other out, playing off of one another's strengths and weaknesses. The intimacy scenes are also brilliantly written, with what I like most in them: emotional depth. Hoyt is the kind of writer that makes sex scenes feel integral to the story and its characters, and there's a beauty to the way she fits them into the narrative.

Speaking plainly, I think this is an excellent book and, more specifically, an excellent example of its genre -- serious, but without ever losing its playfulness, and with a heroine and hero who both feel fully realized in their characterization, emotions, and pasts. 

The only element that didn't have a satisfactory conclusion has to do with Lazarus's aversion to touch. I can't speak on it too freely without spoiling much of the book, but I found it rushed and a bit too perfectly wrapped up. I wish Hoyt had dealt more seriously with some of Lazarus's issues, and that he and Temperance had discussed them more extensively.

Aside from that, I highly recommend this book! It's a great romance, and I'll definitely be reading some more of Hoyt's works!

Book Review: Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall

 

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Content Warning: violence, death, homophobia, transphobia, animal death, animal cruelty, misogyny, murder, sexual assault/harassment.

It is 1814 and Maelys Mitchelmore, a young lady of good standing, has few worries. She attends balls, spends time with her cousin and her best friend, and considers marriage proposals. Then, one night at a ball, Maelys finds her dress slowly but surely unmaking itself in the midst of high society, and she barely escapes a scandal that could ruin not only her reputation, but her life as she knows it. But then, in a world where faeries, malevolent spirits, and old Gods reign supreme, what can one expect? As Maelys comes to the frightening realization that she is under a curse, she is pushed into pairing up with Lady Georgiana Landrake, a Byronic Duchess who is shunned in society as a witch -- and one who supposedly killed her own father and brothers for her inheritance. But as Georgiana and Maelys grow closer as they try to discover who has resorted to such means against Maelys, they discover that some things are more powerful than curses, and that some things are worse than having a bad reputation.

This has been on my list for a long time, published in June of last year. Having previously read Hall's Kate Kane series, I was pretty sure that this was going to be something I thoroughly enjoyed, particularly since it's a sort of fantasy, lesbian Bridgerton. Either my tastes have changed over the years, which is highly probable since I read those books as a teenager, or I'm simply missing something here that everyone else is getting, because I did not love Mortal Follies -- and to speak plainly, I didn't even really like it.

Humbly narrated by the hobgoblin Robin Goodfellow, of Shakespearean fame, the novel follows Maelys Mitchelmore and her romantic interest, Georgiana Landrake. I thought it was a clever device to use Robin as the narrator, but I'm afraid to say that it seemed to work much better in theory than in practice. Unfortunately, because none of the events are seen through the perspective of Maelys or Georgiana, it leaves the reader feeling distanced from the supposed connection taking place between the two. Maelys and Georgiana both suffer as characters, too: forced to describe them, I could only say that Maelys is strong and innocent, and Georgiana is dark and brooding. Beyond that, there's very little growth or development.

The side characters have a similar problem, never becoming much more than archetypes or comic relief. Miss Bickle, Maelys's best friend, is the best example of this -- she seems to serve no point beyond making zany comments and doing silly things, which left me not laughing, but rolling my eyes. This is a book obsessed with its own cleverness and witticisms, to the point of becoming exhausting. Page after page is filled with "witty" dialogue that seems to go on forever, pointlessly, without doing anything to progress the novel or help with its characterization. I truly cannot emphasize enough how bad Mortal Follies is in this regard, and how truly tiresome it is to read nearly 400 pages of forced humor.

The world-building is also lackluster. There's faeries, mythical creatures, and the "old Gods" -- Romano-British Gods and Goddesses, which makes sense because this is set in Bath. This is, again, a wonderful idea where execution simply fell short. There's no real cohesion to how the world works or how its deities and folklore interact, and so it ends up feeling like little more than window dressing.

I wish that I had more positive things to say, but I'm struggling to think of parts that I actually enjoyed. I did think that Robin Goodfellow was sometimes cute and a little charming, but even this grew wearisome by the conclusion. So much cleverness, so many big words, all with no point. Not to mention that the curse, which I assumed would be the main gist of the plot, is solved by the halfway point, and then we move immediately onto a sort of quasi-second plot that feels aimless. It's just a jumbled mess.

Before I finish this review, I also want to address some issues with Georgiana and Maelys's relationship. I'm not bothered by the age gap, like some other readers were -- Maelys being nineteen, Georgiana in her mid-twenties -- but instead, I found it very frustrating how Georgiana doesn't even seem to really like Maelys in any meaningful way. She's Byronic, she's brooding, we get it -- personally, this is something I love to see in female characters. But it was done in a very shoddy way, and truthfully, there seemed very little romance or interest between Maelys and Georgiana at all, besides the carnal, and even that feels inauthentic. There's no chemistry between them. I believe the author primarily writes romance between gay men, aside from the Kate Kane series, and I'm afraid that it rather shows itself here, particularly when it comes to the sex scenes.

I hate being so negative, but this is simply my honest experience with the book. Many other readers loved this, and so as always, it comes down merely to taste. Hall is undoubtedly a talented writer, but Mortal Follies was simply a little too infatuated with its own wittiness to win me over.

Book Review: Immortal Pleasures by V. Castro

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: racism, murder, death, colonialism, sexual assault/rape, misogyny,

Malinalli is known the world over as La Malinche: a traitor, the Nahua woman who helped Hernán Cortés colonize and, ultimately, destroy her own people. But what they don't know is that after Cortés was done with her usefulness, Malinalli was turned into an immortal blood drinker -- a vampire. Searching for purpose, Malinalli has made a name for herself by reclaiming the stolen artifacts and treasures of her people, carelessly observed in museums around the world, hoping to heal the broken heart that has plagued her century after century. What she longs for most is someone to understand her, to embrace both her human side and her dark, vampiric nature. When she arrives in Dublin, eager to retrieve two Aztec skulls that are tied intimately with her past, she meets a mortal who manages to capture her interest. But this mortal is not the only one who snakes his way into her life, and as Malinalli learns to embrace her desires and recuperate from the traumas of her human life, she will be pushed to the limits of what she understands of vampirism and the human will to overcome. 

Before I'd even finished reading Immortal Pleasures, I knew that this was going to be a difficult review to write. While this is certainly a unique experience, unlike anything I've read before, structurally and narratively speaking, it's simply not a very good book. It's hard to write that, as I try to be as fair as possible when writing these reviews -- as someone who writes myself, I know how painful the criticism can be. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy reading this, because I very much did, but man, is it corny and sometimes way, way too over the top.

Now, I don't mind some corniness in my vampire media, but this was to the point that it was taking all of my self-control not to cringe during certain passages. Sadly, the writing doesn't come off as very polished either, and although Malinalli is such a fascinating figure in history, rife with so much misunderstanding, I found that Castro never quite managed to make her feel believable, either as a human being or a creature of the night. Her character development is as equally cheesy as the rest of the story, and all of it somehow feels extremely juvenile, in spite of the very dark and sometimes disturbing content matter. Malinalli reads very much like a teenager, and although I could buy that this comes from her traumatic past starting at such a young age, it's been hundreds of years at this point, and I would expect at least some maturation in her character.

The rest of the characters suffer from similar problems, and I found both of her lovers, Colin and Alexander, to be a little laughable in their dialogue and characterization. In fact, all of the dialogue comes across as being wooden and stiff, as if they are in a Shakespearean play, reading off of a piece of paper. Much of it feels very much like telling us rather than showing us, and I was surprised by how little we actually get to experience of Malinalli's human life. I expected much more of it, since it's so rich for reimagining in a tale like this.

Onto the fun stuff, though: this is one hell of a ride, and I can't fault it for its constant breakneck pace, the way it relentlessly doles out blood and sex. I truly cannot describe to you how unintentionally hilarious the sex scenes are; there are many other reviews with quotes from the book, and I encourage you to read those if you're having a bad day. I'm not saying this to be cruel or mean, but man, some of those lines are truly hilarious zingers.

In the end, this simply wasn't the book for me. As I always say, I'm sure there will be plenty of people out there who enjoy Immortal Pleasures, but for me, this just didn't quite hit the mark.

Book Review: A Sweet Sting of Salt by Rose Sutherland

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: homophobia/lesbophobia, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, murder, animal death, 

Jean is one of the only midwives for miles around. When she's awoken in the middle of the night -- during a storm -- by a cry of pain, it's instinct that sends her outside. Standing there is a woman she's never seen before, half in the marsh, and to Jean's expert eye, clearly in labor. As Jean helps the woman during and after the birth, it becomes obvious to her that this is the wife of her only neighbor, and that she speaks painfully little English. Doing their best to communicate, Jean finds herself drawn into the mystery of Muirinn's life, put off, for some reason that she can't quite place her finger on, by Muirinn's husband, Tobias. Struggling with her growing feelings for this stranger, Jean gradually discovers that there's more than meets the eye when it comes to her neighbors, and that some secrets are worth killing for.

First and foremost, A Sweet Sting of Salt is perhaps one of the most lushly, gorgeously written books I've had the pleasure of reading in some time. Sutherland is masterly at crafting beautiful sentences, of using words with creativity, but never to the point of making her writing inaccessible or too much. Anyone reviewing this book would be remiss not to mention her talent, and it's obvious to me that she is the type of person who is a natural at what she does. It came as a surprise to me that this was a debut, based on the quality and level of the writing and overall feel of the novel.

Our heroine, Jean, is very likable, feisty but sensible, and although I did like Muirinn as well, I was left with the feeling that we didn't get to know her quite as well. If I was forced to describe her personality, I'd be left sitting a bit blank. She's brave, I suppose, and adventurous, based off of what we hear in the latter half of the book, but beyond that, she struck me as being slightly underdeveloped. Jean fares much better as the narrator of the events taking place, but the relationship between them is rushed. It's perhaps not quite instalove, but something very close to it, and the pacing of their developing interest in each other was a little too quick for my tastes.

In many ways, this book suffers from pacing issues, not only with the relationship between the two main characters. In the beginning everything is happening too fast, and by the middle, too slowly. I think these problems are common for a debut, and while they did lessen my enjoyment some, it wasn't enough to put me off of the book. Most likely, Sutherland's next book will have ironed some of these issues out, so I do advise everyone to take some of the problems I mention here with these elements in mind. 

Something else I didn't like was the coincidental nature of the finale. It was a bit unbelievable, even for a book with fantasy elements based off of a folktale. I didn't like how Laurie's story connects with Jean's, and there were times I was inclined to roll my eyes at how perfectly and easily everything seems to pan out for everyone. It's impossible to discuss without spoiling the ending, but that was perhaps the part I liked least. And one more thing I have to mention: the introspection. It's far, far too much. I'm truly surprised that Sutherland's editor didn't catch onto it, and have her cut the majority of it out. It slows the book down considerably, and nearly manages to make it boring.

Overall, I think this is a beautiful book, and most of its problems come with a first time author. Sutherland nonetheless has created something beautiful here, and I can't wait to see what she'll come out with next!

Book Review: Mrs. S by K. Patrick

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Europa Editions for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: violence, misogyny, homophobia.

At a remote English boarding school, where propriety is an enforced rule, a new woman has taken up the role of "Matron" -- and most importantly, she's a butch lesbian. Used to being an outsider looking in, but slightly taken aback by the way her appearance and "strangeness" is greeted by hostility, she grows restless in her role, concerned about her future, and extremely self-conscious. But then, she meets Mrs. S, the headmaster's wife. Mrs. S is everything the Matron is not: comfortable in her dominance and authority, and very feminine. Captivated by Mrs. S, the Matron quickly finds herself falling into an infatuation, one that will deeply change the lives of everyone around them.

Although it has taken me far, far too long to put up this review, please don't take it as a sign that I disliked this book. In fact, I think it's one of the most beautiful, arresting novels I've had the pleasure of reading this year, and there's quite a lot of stiff competition (like Lucky Red, for example, another ARC I just reviewed). Patrick's writing style is totally and completely unique: none of the characters are ever named, aside from the dauntingly gorgeous and commanding Mrs. S, and although at first you might struggle to get into the flow of Patrick's style, please do yourself a favor and do not put this down.

This is a perfect representation of being "other." The Matron, our main character and narrator, has struggled with this throughout her life, connected always to her lesbianism and butch appearance. Her relationship with her parents is extremely fraught; she comes to the English countryside, and expects her loneliness to be even more solidified, but is surprised to find that she isn't the only lesbian there. This also makes a great example of the saying "we are everywhere" -- that no matter where you go, or what people you meet, you will always find another person who is on the LGBT spectrum. For me, Patrick flawlessly and easily captures what it is like to be an outsider, especially as a woman. The sensation that you don't fit in, that all the other girls are connected somehow, and that you will forever be standing just outside of their circle.

The Matron's relationship with Mrs. S is the primary focus, but there are so many elements at play here, and Patrick handles it masterfully. The ruminations on identity are spot-on, and all of it feels like lived, authentic experience (and I assume much of it is). As their relationship develops, you feel just as the Matron does, confused and baffle and in love and wondering what kind of game Mrs. S is playing -- or if it's even a game at all.

Highly, highly recommended!

Book Review: Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail by Ashley Herring Blake

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Berkley for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: cancer, cheating, emotional abuse (parental), verbal abuse (parental).

Astrid Parker has her life together. Although she's established herself as an ultra-successful interior designer, business hasn't exactly been booming lately, which is exactly why she needs all the exposure from Innside America that she can get. Filming an episode of the renovation of the local Everwood Inn, where Astrid is the lead designer, is just what she needs -- but what she doesn't expect is that she'll butt heads with the carpenter granddaughter of the inn's owner, Jordan Everwood. Jordan is dealing with her own personal issues and failure, and she's not in the best state of mind to deal with what she thinks of as Astrid's "uninspired" design for the inn. But against all odds, Jordan and Astrid find themselves growing closer, even as the showrunners encourage them to have on-camera conflict... and Astrid begins to realize that everything she thought she knew about herself might not be true after all.

I reviewed Delilah Green Doesn't Care on this blog previously, and if you've read that post, you'll know that I absolutely adore it. I'm not huge on contemporary romances, let alone romcoms, but it really struck a chord with me that no other romance has managed to before. Her characters were relatable, the romance was just the right amount of fluffy and serious, and the entire book was just plain fantastic. However, with all of that being said... I'm afraid to say that Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail simply didn't satisfy me in the way the first book did. 

Since this book is, first and foremost, a romance, I think the main issue is that Jordan and Astrid never feel quite as convincing, or as interesting, as Claire and Delilah were. Even when you don't compare the two books, many of the scenes between them are not that engaging. While I like both of them individually, the sparks between them feel sometimes lukewarm. Most of Blake's books have a lot of infodumping, and this one was no exception, but while typically I don't mind it, it felt as if it was doing most of the emotional footwork for the characters in this, never leaving any subtlety to their emotions or motivations. Instead of letting us (and Astrid and Jordan) figure it out for ourselves, we're told how they feel, why they feel it, and then they're immediately sent on the way to fix it.

The scene that sticks out most to me is when Astrid and Jordan go to the theater, and it's probably the best scene in the book, but I also wondered why they were divulging all of these secrets to one another, alcohol notwithstanding. It just felt... a little strange, and they hadn't quite had the development to make it seem believable. The narrative is punctuated by issues like these.

It's not that this book is awful (it's not), but none of it is really convincing. I also have to address how corny this book often is, and not in a cute way. Of course, it's kind of a given that when you read a cute romance (particularly one with comedic elements), there will be some corny moments, but it's usually the kind of corny that makes you smile. In this case, it made me cringe. 

One more thing: Blake's takes on race and gender in this one made me pause. She uses the term "women and nonbinary people" pretty much nonstop, and I hate this. I hate this so much. Why does she conflate women with nonbinary people? What about people who associate themselves with masculinity? What about transmac people, who still identify as nonbinary or genderfluid? I could just go on about this, and it just struck me as so odd. She also describes everyone race first in this book, which felt really weird.

So, would I recommend it? To Blake's fans, probably. If you're a big fan of the romance genre, I think you'll probably enjoy this one, even if it's not the best you've ever read. For me, it was a bit of a drag: not the best, not the worst. I'll leave it up to you wise people whether you decide to pick it up or not!

Book Review: Thérèse and Isabelle by Violette Leduc

 

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Content Warning: homophobia.

Thérèse and Isabelle are two schoolgirls, attending the same boarding school in France. Though Thérèse has convinced herself that she hates Isabelle, she is also fascinated by her, spending much of her time thinking of Isabelle's beautiful flaxen hair. After an encounter one night, the two girls fall hopelessly into a deep, erotic love, knowing that it can't last and yet holding onto each other with remarkable violence.

Originally published in 1966, Thérèse and Isabelle was heavily censored for its frank depictions of love between women, not to mention its explicit eroticism. I've wanted to read this for a long time; it's considered a bit of an obscure classic of lesbian literature, and Violette Leduc is such a fascinating person -- everything I read about her intrigues me more. While the content does include many sex scenes between the two girls, it's not explicit like we think of today. You can turn on HBO and see worse. At the time, in fact, there were actually far more graphic erotic novels, many of them also challenged (Miller's Topic of Cancer and Burroughs' Naked Lunch come to mind), but Leduc's is singular in the fact that it depicts female pleasure with no qualms.

For the reasons I've listed above, it's worth a read, but my main problem is simply that the language is so abstract that it takes away entirely from the purpose of the story. There's more of a focus on the emotional aspect of their sexual relationship than the actual physical action, which elevates the depth of feeling when you are reading about them. It's the kind of obsessive love that only young women can truly understand, a desire to consume and be consumed that leaves all else either nonexistent or simply unimportant.

But back to the language: this doesn't seem to be an error of translation, but rather simply Leduc's style, carving out such obtuse metaphors that it sometimes took me several rereadings of a sentence to truly grasp what it is that Leduc is trying to say. It isn't that I'm unused to obscure or unique styles of prose, but in my opinion, some passages are actually painful to get through because it feels as if they are saying so much without saying anything at all.

I enjoyed the concept of this story more than its actual content, but nonetheless, I do think it's worth a read if you are particularly interested in Leduc (as this is based off not only her own experience as a lesbian, but specifically her experience being in love with another schoolgirl during her adolescence), but the style certainly won't be for everyone. 

Book Review: Bone Weaver by Aden Polydoros

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Inkyard Press for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death (including that of a child), murder, violence, racism, religious persecution, misogyny.

Seventeen-year-old Toma lives in the wilderness of the vast Kosa empire. Although the empire is turning in on itself, in the midst of a deadly revolution, Toma is unaware of the political tensions and ongoing civil war, having not been amongst other humans in years. Suddenly, the unrest is brought to Toma and her adoptive upyri family's doorstep with the crashing of an airship, holding only two passengers -- and one of them is Tsar Mikhail himself. Forced by disaster into a mission of her own, Toma accompanies Mikhail on his journey to destroy Koschei, the leader of the anti-Tsarist revolutionaries, picking up another straggler, Vanya, on their way. As the trio grows closer, Toma will be forced to confront her past and, even more frighteningly, her future -- and all three of them will learn that true monsters don't wear their wickedness on the outside.

Finally, a book from my list of most highly anticipated 2022 reads that didn't disappoint! Bone Weaver is everything I could ask for in a Russian and Slavic inspired fantasy, replete with folklore and monsters, all while addressing the proletariat revolution and the faults of its fantasy empire.

To start off, this book is simply full of monsters. Something that often bothers me when I pick up a fantasy book is that while it proclaims to have pages full of monsters and folklore, they seem little more than window-dressing. That's never the case in Bone Weaver: there are rusalki, mavki, upyri, and more, all written about with an admiration for their haunting, sometimes frightening, beauty. It's obvious from the first page that Polydoros loves writing about these creatures, and although this obviously deals with much more mature subject matter, it reminded me a bit of reading The Spiderwick Chronicles -- and what more could I ask for then that?

As for the characters, all of them are lovable, even when they are not nice or friendly or on their best behavior. Toma, of course, is my favorite, and she operates as the kind of heroine that is naive but not obnoxious (which is hard to do; instead, her naivete feels endearing). Her companions, Mikhail and Vanya, are equally wonderful, although I will say that it took me a while to warm up to Mikhail. Perhaps it's because I'm a bit biased, but I wasn't sure that I would buy into his rehabilitation, into the narrative that he will truly fight for change in his empire. By the end, however, I greatly enjoyed Mikhail's character, and even ended up rooting for him (which took me by surprise). He still wasn't quite on the level of Toma or Vanya for me, but nonetheless, I think that Polydoros did an incredible job crafting every single character we encounter on the page. 

The worldbuilding has real depth to it. One of my favorite things in fantasy books is that feeling you get that, just beyond the page, there's a whole world out there -- real and fully fleshed out -- that we've yet to see. I never, ever say this, but I almost wish that Bone Weaver had been the first in a series. It feels as if there's so much more to explore, even with regards to Toma's background, for example, or Vanya's. My only real complaint about this book is that it simplifies the revolution, and in turn, simplifies its (amazing) villain. However, this is YA fantasy, so I don't mind it being boiled down to basics -- and that isn't to say that there isn't complexity or nuance in this book because there's plenty. 

Highly, highly recommended. This is, without a doubt, the best Russian and Slavic inspired fantasy I've ever had the pleasure of reading. 

Book Review: The Oleander Sword by Tasha Suri

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Orbit for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death, violence, murder, emotional abuse, misogyny, body horror,

After the prophecy that has named her the rightful Empress of Parijatdvipa, Malini is well on her way to deposing her cruel brother. Although she anticipates being defied at every turn, her newly-appointed status as a ruler chosen by the gods has left her more open than ever to criticism and hardship. Meanwhile, Ahiranya has finally found its freedom from imperial oppression, and Priya has risen fully to her position as an Elder. The magic that flows through her body, however, is changing -- and Priya is no longer sure if she knows what she's capable of. As the war rages on, Malini realizes that she needs Priya -- her secret weapon -- and against all odds, they find themselves together once more... but will their reunion end in happiness, or destruction?

I don't read many series these days, but after I finished The Jasmine Throne, I was so happy to find out that it was going to be a trilogy. Not only did I instantly fall in love with our two heroines, Priya and Malini, but I was also captivated by the magic system and the gorgeous world Suri has created. So, does the sequel live up to the amazing potential captured in the first book?

In my opinion, yes. We are once again following Malini and Priya, as well as several other characters introduced in the first book (including Bhumika, who I simply adore), and it felt like coming home to jump into their shoes again. Now, they're contending with even bigger problems than they were before, Priya with her new role as an Elder (a role that she isn't quite sure how to embrace) and Malini with keeping the faith she's engendered in her new followers. This book is much bigger than just Malini and Priya, though, and I felt like there was more of a focus on what's happening outside of them this time around.

The Jasmine Throne got some criticism for its many POVs, and, if anything, I did feel that this problem is not fixed -- if anything, it felt as if there were even more perspectives and characters to contend with. For me, it's not a problem, but I think that some people will struggle with it. There were moments where I wondered why, exactly, we were getting a certain character's perspective, or following a particular storyline, as it seemed to add nothing overall to either the plot or pacing. I'm also confused as to why, instead of allowing us to enter into the head of Varsha, Chandra's new wife, we are given the POV of her brother. I think it would have been more interesting (and fitting) to let us see the world and her marriage through her eyes.

Those are my main complaints; otherwise, I was just as enchanted by this entry into the series as the first. The moments between Malini and Priya were beautiful, and truly made the novel shine. I also love Bhumika, and you really get the chance to fall for her in this book. 

While it wasn't perfect (like I thought The Jasmine Throne was), this is a solid second book, and I'm excited (and scared!) for the final installment. 

Book Review: Set in Stone by Stela Brinzeanu

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Legend Press for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death, violence, murder, rape (on-page), homophobia, misogyny, victim-blaming, outdated racial terms, racism, drowning, incest.

In medieval Moldova, Elina and Mira live totally separate lives. Elina is the wealthy daughter of a boyar, the aristocratic class that employ serfs and slaves, while Mira is a simple potter's daughter, used to going without a meal and trying to fight off the cold. But when the two are inadvertently brought together, there's an immediate spark between them, and they begin to realize that, as women, their stations in life might not be so different after all. As they come to terms with their feelings for one another, Mira and Elina both will have to make the ultimate sacrifice to achieve freedom -- and the possibility of spending their lives together.

Doesn't the premise for this book sound so great? Medieval Moldova is not a time nor place I've ever seen in another book, and it's a culture I'm not overly familiar with. Even more fascinating, the central relationship is between two women, and Set in Stone tackles many issues (some which we are, sadly, still facing today) over the course of Mira and Elina's journey. It saddens me to say I'm not able to give more than three stars here, though. For me, there were too many problems to bump this up to a full four stars. With that being said, let's delve into what worked for me, and what didn't. 

Firstly, Brinzeanu's writing style didn't click for me. It was a little too dry for my tastes, and when it wasn't, the similes felt strangely overwrought. There was more telling than showing, which grew a bit irritating over time. I wanted to actually feel as if I was experiencing the scenes, instead of being told of it secondhand. This problem persists throughout the novel, although I will say that the longer I read, the more acclimated to the style I became. 

Sadly, the characterization also struck me as a touch shallow. While I ended up loving both Elina and Mira, it took quite a while for it to actually feel as if you're seeing the events and emotions through their eyes. I also found the abrupt beginning to their relationship not only strangely paced, but I struggled with whether or not it made sense for young women of this time period and place. Personally speaking, I'm a huge fan of slow-burns, and I think there was more than enough time to work up to their relationship, and deepen it in the process.

That being said, I did root for both of them, separately and together, and this book offers a beautiful (and harrowing) insight into Moldavian culture, religion, class, and, of course, the lives of Moldavian women. There are some beautiful moments, suffused with nature magic and the tenderness of love, but once again, the writing style kept you at such a distance that it was sometimes hard to admire them fully. 

One of my other issues concerns a (very one-dimensional) side character, Dafina. Dafina is a Romani slave, and in the brief instances where she interacts with Elina, she comes off as stereotypically "mysterious," reading palms and telling fortunes. Had she been more developed, it might've not been an issue, but otherwise, she serves little narrative purpose -- well, she does serve a purpose, but it would be a huge spoiler to say how. Let's just say that the purpose is to further Elina's journey, and otherwise, Dafina is just a walking stereotype, there to make cryptic comments and save Elina's hide. The slur commonly used against Romani people is also frequently found in this book. As I'm not Romani myself, I can't say whether or not this is offensive in its historical usage (considering Set in Stone takes place in the Middle Ages). I would love some input on this; all I'll say for now is be forewarned, and it did make me uncomfortable when I was reading it.

Overall, I did like Set in Stone, but nothing about it blew me away. I'm not sure it's the kind of book that will stick with me for very long. If you're interested in the culture and the time period, I'd definitely say give it a shot, but as it stands, for me, this felt more like reading a screenplay. I will consider picking up whatever Brinzeanu writes next, however, as I imagine her second novel will improve upon the issues I've mentioned here! 

Book Review: A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan-Tor/Forge for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death, violence, murder, rape (on-page), victim-blaming, homophobia, self-harm, suicidal ideation (including suicide attempts), PTSD, animal death.

Velasin vin Aaro is shocked when his father announces that he has arranged a marriage for him, in the neighboring country of Tithena. Not only is Velasin unsure of being forced to move to a country he knows little about, but he will also be married to a woman -- and Velasin is gay. But when something horrible happens, revealing Velasin's sexuality, the Tithenai propose that he marries not Laecia Aeduria, but her brother, Caethari. Desperate to get away from his native Ralia, Velasin agrees, but when he arrives in Tithena, it becomes very clear that not everyone is happy about this alliance between the two countries, and will do anything to stop it. Teaming up with his new husband, Velasin and Caethari try to hunt down the murderous faction plaguing them at every step, and discover that sometimes, love can bloom in the strangest of circumstances.

Finally, a highly anticipated book that I absolutely adored! Swept up in the first few chapters, enamored with Meadows's gorgeous use of language, I realized quite quickly that this was most likely going to be the kind of book I just fell in love with. And that's exactly what happened! 

I love books that deal with arranged marriages, as they're often able to explore a side of romance and emotion that is sometimes absent in more quickly formed relationships, and I was so pleased that this one was actually a gay romance. Both Velasin and Caethari are instantly lovable; Velasin in particular, with his sharp, cutting witticisms and sometimes frustratingly obstinate personality, stands out as a character who will leave a lasting impression upon readers. Velasin's manservant (who is more like his best friend), Markel, was also very well-written, and the fact that he is mute and uses sign language to communicate was another exciting addition. We don't often see characters like that (or any disability of any kind), and so it was a breath of fresh air. As far as characterization goes, I do think that Caethari's sisters, Riya and Laecia, suffered a bit in comparison to others. They were both very interesting, and I would've liked to see a bit more of their inner worlds, too.

This book is beautifully diverse, as I'm sure you'll have gathered from some of what I've written above. Caethari's sister, Riya, is a lesbian; there are several nonbinary characters; a transgender character; and most of the cast is dark-skinned, to some degree. How refreshing it was to read something that had no qualms about including a diverse ensemble of characters, and did it without batting an eye. 

As for the plot, it's so unique to find a book in this genre that doesn't follow the tried-and-true fantasy formulas. Although there's plenty of Velasin and Caethari finding themselves, there's also a bit of a murder mystery going on, complicated by the layered politics both of Tithena and Ralia. While many other readers seemed to be disappointed by the revelation of who the villain is, I didn't mind it; I suspected who it was long before the reveal, but to me, it didn't seem rushed or hasty -- just the opposite, in fact. The clues are there from the very beginning, which is more than I can say for some books. I didn't feel cheated, either, as if Meadows had purposefully kept things from me in the narration that would've otherwise helped us to understand who might be behind everything.

The shining star of A Strange and Stubborn Endurance is Velasin and, by association, his burgeoning relationship with Caethari. Velasin has been through hell, and I felt that Meadows handled all of the difficult topics brought up in this book with grace. There is an on-page rape scene, very early on, which many people felt (understandably) uncomfortable with, but for me, none if it felt gratuitous or cheapening to the narrative. Velasin's growth over the course of this huge book was slow, sometimes painful, and beautifully executed. Everything he did, in regards to Caethari, felt like it made sense, and while everyone's journey of healing is, of course, different, I appreciated the slowness and gentleness of Velasin's.

All in all, this book is simply fantastic. I highly, highly recommend it, and I think that this is such a refreshing take on the fantasy genre. It's beautiful, heartfelt, sometimes funny, sometimes very, very dark, and the journey is well worth it.