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

Content Warning: violence, death, homophobia, misogyny.

Bridget is only sixteen when she arrives in Dodge City, a newly-made orphan with nothing to her name but her bright red hair and boldness. It doesn't take long before she's approached by one of the Buffalo Queen's madams, who thinks that Bridget will earn them a pretty penny with her fresh-faced prettiness. As Bridget learns the trade and lives at the brothel, for the first time she finds herself with money and security, and the friendship of other women. But Bridget's relatively peaceful life will change forever when a female gunslinger and bounty hunter, Spartan Lee, rides into town -- and makes quick work of stealing Bridget's heart. Deeply in love and quickly garnering a reputation as a troublemaker, Bridget's lucky streak is running out, and she won't be the only one facing the consequences in the end. 

The word 'cinematic' is used in the blurb for this book, and there's truly no better descriptor for it than that. This is a Western, but one that doesn't simply include women and LGBTQ representation: it centers them totally. It's got all the grittiness and hardness of Tombstone, but also a profound sense of family and connection -- and all the conflicts that come with it.

Our heroine is Bridget. She's known nothing but hardship for the entirety of her sixteen years, and so to her, the Buffalo Queen represents comfort, prosperity, and, again, family. Her two madams take her under their wing, but it's her relationship with Constance, a fellow sex worker, that really ends up helping her to define her life. Bridget is exactly what you look for in a main character: she's tough and bold, but she's also prone to making mistakes and getting herself into situations that aren't easily remedied. What particularly sealed my love for her is the fact that Cravens never shies away from making her sometimes difficult, or petty, or selfish. It makes her instantly human, relatable, someone that you end up rooting for because she is complex and three-dimensional. 

Bridget's lesbianism is also a central theme throughout. It's a major part of how she ends up getting herself into so much mischief and trouble, and it was a joy to read about her discovering herself, unable to hide her thoughts or love on her face and all of the other girls being aware that she was head over heels. Lucky Red is primarily a journey of self-discovery, not only with regards to Bridget's sexuality, but also with her trying to figure out exactly what she wants and what she's willing to risk to get it. Also, despite the fact that there is homophobia at play in Lucky Red, it was a relief to have it juxtaposed by the accepting nature of others in Bridget's life. However 'historically accurate' it may be, it gets tiresome to read the same stories again and again, focusing only on the painful parts of being LGBTQ+.

To put it simply, this is a book I will be recommending to everyone. It's sharp, clever, gritty, and an absolutely fantastic homage to classic Westerns. This one deserves its five stars and then some, folks.

Book Review: Maddalena and the Dark by Julia Fine

 

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

Content Warning: violence, death.

Maddalena and Luisa are opposites: Maddalena from a wealthy, patrician family, Luisa a foundling, forever indebted to the Ospedale della Pietà, the convent school that has taken her in and taught her music. When Maddalena's fortunes change -- due to the questions surrounding her parentage, and her mother who has apparently run off with a lover -- her brothers and father decide to send her off to the Pietà, too, hoping to make her into a respectable young woman who will be married off to an equally respectable young man. When Luisa and Maddalena meet, they feel an immediate connection, beyond anything either of them has ever experienced before. But Maddalena has dangerous plans to secure her own future, and as she draws Luisa deeper into her world, both girls learn that everything comes with a price.

Starting off truthfully, I have very conflicted feelings about this book. The first few pages were captivating, filled by beautiful, flowery writing, but it quickly became a double edged-sword. Having never read anything by Fine before, I didn't know what to expect, but any book set in eighteenth century Venice, featuring a romance between two women, is enough to entice me into requesting the ARC. However, as I went through the novel, I found myself never quite able to fully invest myself in the story, particularly when it came to Luisa's character.

The setting is rich with potential, and our opening, with the bold and slightly calculating Maddalena, certainly caught my interest. Maddalena is like many female characters who end up being my favorites: not quite likable, in a way that actually increases one's interest and enjoyment of her. Luisa, on the other hand, seems all right upon our first meeting with her, but as time went on, I grew increasingly irritated and frustrated with her naïveté and her inability to take any initiative whatsoever. Although Maddalena is manipulative and borders on being unkind, she's fascinating, layered and her motivations change and shift throughout. Strangely enough, it was Luisa who stuck me as being slightly false, and because of this, not very likable.

Perhaps it's partly my fault, but I also wasn't aware that the storyline heavily features magical realism, and that a large part of it includes rather abstract and surrealistic scenes. I'm not against those things by any mean, but I felt that to some degree, it was used to orchestrate and engineer the plotline to the author's liking. Not quite a deus ex machina, but something very like it, which for me, doesn't work. One more thing I'm awfully sore about: the relationship between Luisa and Maddalena. This is categorized as LGBT, and in some ways it is (Maddalena is very obviously a lesbian), but if you're hoping for a complex relationship between Luisa and Maddalena, I'm afraid you'll be very disappointed indeed. Look, I'm a huge fan of toxic, slightly cruel relationships between women (a la Villanelle and Eve, or Frances and Lilian in The Paying Guests), but this flops between being one-sided and maybe? Possibly? Something else. It's confusing, but not in a rewarding way.

Now, for the positives: Again, Maddalena's character is one that has stuck with me for a while, even after completing this book months ago. Fine's writing is really, genuinely beautiful, and I think there was so much potential here, but unfortunately it just ended up falling flat. By no means is this an awful book, but instead, sadly a bit mediocre. 

Book Review: Vita and the Birds by Polly Crosby

 

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

Content Warning: violence, death, homophobia, misogyny, institutionalization.

In 1938, Vita Goldsborough seems to have it all. She's wealthy, a lady of leisure, but in their big house on the East Anglian coast, Vita's brother, Aubrey, does his best to keep her completely isolated from the outside world. But during one of her walks on the beach, Vita stumbles across an artist, sketching the seascape -- and not just any artist, but a female one. Fascinated, Vita does her best to befriend the woman -- Dodie Blakeney -- and as they grow closer, she begins to see a future for herself out from under Aubrey's thumb. In 1997, Eve Blakeney returns to the Suffolk town where she spent her summers growing up, hoping to get some closure after her mother's sudden death. But when Eve stumbles across letters written by Vita to her grandmother, she discovers a family secret that has been festering for decades -- and one that might change the course of Eve's own life.

A historical novel with family secrets and a lesbian romance? As soon as I read the premise for Vita and the Birds, I knew I had to request the ARC. I ended up reading it early, in order to get ahead on my ARCs, and as I've been having quite a stressful time in my life, I'm actually glad it was this one I chose. It's calming, somehow, in spite of the hardships that Vita and Eve are both facing, and it was easy for me to understand the ways that their calming seaside town brought peace to them in the midst of their problems. Crosby does a fantastic job of making small-town English life leap from the page, particularly when it comes to the unique building -- The Cathedral of Marshes -- that acts as the cornerstone of this book. 

Now, although it's listed as a mystery, that's not actually how I would classify Vita and the Birds. There are mystery elements, but most of them were easy for me to unravel without much help from the narrative itself, and unfortunately, some of them actually fell quite flat for me -- I'd like to go into more detail about it, but I also don't want to spoil any plot points for those who are wanting to pick this one up themselves. As a whole, the novel is more introspective, more literary and character-driven than it is a mystery. For me, that's actually not a negative, as I prefer books who focus more on characters than they do on a fast-moving plot, but some people might find it a bit disappointing. I enjoyed Crosby's simplistic, pretty writing; it fit the novel perfectly.

The characters are relatable on the surface, but I actually struggled to connect with them. I liked Vita best of them all, but Eve, Dodie, and many of the other characters remained mystifying to me, sometimes doing things that seemed out of character or somehow just not quite right. Again, I'd like to extrapolate on this more, but I don't want to spoil anything, especially as one of the problems I had with Dodie's character comes towards the end and acts as a major turning point in the plot. Now, I'm afraid I have to go on a little rant.

There's a big problem I've found continuously in lesbian romances in media. Why is there never any buildup in these romances? For straight couples, you get pages and pages and chapter and chapters of barely touching, of hesitant conversations, of unspoken feelings. You would think that in a historical novel, you would get a lot of that in a lesbian couple, but with Vita and Dodie (and many others I've read), it seems as if one moment they're meeting and talking, and the next they've suddenly fallen in love. Is it so much to ask for a slowburn? This isn't a problem unique to Crosby, but it's one that plagues fiction focusing on lesbian/wlw relationships and for me, it's a huge pet peeve.

With all of that being said, I do want to commend Crosby on the beautiful way she paints this story, and I do think I would pick up another book by her. Overall, although I didn't love it quite as much as I wanted to, I definitely would recommend this to people wanting to read a bit of a slow-burn family mystery set in a small English town!

Book Review: In Nightfall by Suzanne Young

 

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

Content Warning: violence, death, underage drinking.

Theo and her brother, Marco, are not excited about spending their summer in gloomy Nightfall, Oregon. After Marco throws a huge party, destroying the house and nearly getting many of his friends arrested, it's their father's idea of a punishment and visit to his mom all rolled into one. Once they arrive, however, Theo is immediately and begrudgingly charmed by the small town, and once Marco meets the beautiful, intriguing Minnow, things start to get a little more interesting for the both of them. Theo, too, is enamored by a crush of her own, but she finds their grandmother a little strange, especially with her one important house rule: never stay out after dark. When Theo is drawn into Minnow's friend group, she quickly realizes that something about the girls is -- off, somehow. And by the end of her summer trip, she might be forced to confront the dark side of Nightfall.

These days, I don't mix much with most YA books. I just don't click with it anymore, probably because I'm not exactly the intended audience anymore. Sometimes, though, you just want to pick up something fun, feel transported back to your teenage years, and for me, In Nightfall is a great example of a book that does just those things. Originally, I was intrigued by the comparisons to The Lost Boys, especially the idea that this was a sort of gender-flipped version, but beyond that shallow first impression, it manages to find its own path -- something that a lot of books with big-name comparisons can't achieve.

Theo is our main character, as we get everything from her first-person perspective, but this is really more of an ensemble type of novel, particularly when it comes to the involvement of her brother, Marco, and their family unit. She's interesting enough, and very likable, with relatable problems that many teenagers (and even adults) will be able to sympathize with. One problem I found with the entire book, however, is that most of the characters don't feel very fleshed-out, and this issue mostly plagues Theo's crush, Parrish, and the group of "wild" girls that Theo and Marco both get involved with. The two characters who assist Theo in her quest to figure out what's going on in Nightfall (and potentially help her fight any monsters who may or may not be terrorizing the town) suffer from the same problem, and I think it feels especially noticeable when they're supposed to be the Edgar and Alan of Young's book.

With that being said, Young does an excellent job of maintaining the sensation of fun and adventure, and I was really rooting for Theo and her family. Young's exploration of changing family dynamics is also spot-on, although I do wish that there had been more time to follow up with Theo's strained relationship with her mother. Another element I have to compliment is the wonderful way that Young builds up the fake town; it feels somehow genuine and authentic, with little touches and details that add a quality of realness, while also managing to keep Nightfall mysterious and just slightly off-kilter. 

What kept me from giving this four stars has to do with In Nightfall's girl gang. I was so excited to see how they would come alive on the page, but unfortunately, their allure was lukewarm for me. Truthfully, I was expecting (and hoping for) a deeper connection between Theo and the girls, especially with its comparison to The Lost Boys. In the film, it's easy to see why Michael falls under the spell of the boys, the classic tale of wanting to belong, even if it means fitting in with people who you don't truly like or get along with. Minnow, Annemarie and Beatrice are more like window-dressing, and their backstories and lives are never fully explored, something that would've made things far more interesting.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book, and I think it'll gather a lot of fans. It isn't perfect, but it's never short of fun, and it's the kind of thing you want to reread when you're feeling down.

Book Review: Big Swiss by Jen Beagin

 

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

Content Warning: suicide, misogyny, homophobia, rape (mentioned, off-page), eating disorders, violence, stalking, animal cruelty, racism.

Greta lives in an old Dutch farmhouse, working as a transcriber for a "sex and relationship coach" in Hudson, New York. She's also a mess. Listening in on people's therapy sessions hasn't done much for her own mental health, but she gets a kick out of it nonetheless, and she's particularly captivated by one of her boss's new clients. Greta calls her Big Swiss (owing to the fact that she's tall and from Switzerland) and for Greta, listening to her sessions is somehow cathartic -- they both have experienced major traumas in their lives, but their ways of coping are about as opposite as you can get. One day, Greta hears a familiar voice as she's at the dog park, and when she realizes it's Big Swiss in the flesh, she quickly introduces herself -- not as Greta, but Rebekah. As the two of them become tangled up in a messy, intense relationship, Greta is forced to face the demons of her past and some of the demons in her present, too.

Let me start off by saying that Big Swiss is not my usual kind of book. I decided to give it a go, mainly because I love messy female protagonists with a dark, dry sense of humor (and the lesbian relationship is a plus, too!), but I think it's only fair to mention this before I properly begin my review. Some people have likened Beagin's style to Otessa Moshfegh, and as I'm a big fan of her books, I thought, why not? It's always good to broaden your horizons. Unfortunately, in this case, I probably should've trusted the hesitation I felt. 

The biggest problem I have is with the two main characters, Greta and Flavia (the titular Big Swiss). At first, I was intrigued by their dynamic, and I even found them oddly charming in some situations, but as the novel progressed, I quickly grew tired of their flakiness, their inability to be kind to one another, and, head and shoulders above the rest, the lack of chemistry between them. It was difficult to understand why they put up with each other, and what attracted them to one another in the first place. Although the 'why' is repeatedly spelled out for us, it doesn't really make sense with the actual interactions we see on-page. Big Swiss, in particular, is not a likable or even interesting character to me. Why Greta is so instantaneously infatuated with her is really anybody's guess.

There's a lot of social commentary here, but most of it falls flat. It's the usual type of dry humor, making fun of everyone for everything, and to put it simply, it's boring. I also don't think that this book is quite as funny as it thinks it is, and instead of laughing or feeling tickled by a lot of the things intended to be funny, I was mostly left cringing. Greta is tactless, almost to the point of stupidity or naivete, and although she's forty-five, I had to continuously remind myself that she wasn't actually meant to be a vapid teenager or twenty-something. 

There's also really no plot to speak of. The ending is a bit disappointing; it feels like a lot of build-up for nothing. I didn't hate this book, but reading it felt like filler, like waiting for something meaningful to happen. Also, there's a lot of casual racism, and I wasn't a huge fan of the way the book handled Greta's questioning of her sexuality, nor did I like some of Big Swiss's comments about lesbianism (the whole "I could never be a lesbian" thing was just kind of weird).

All in all, not my cup of tea, but judging by the very high ratings this book has gotten, I might be the odd one out.

Book Review: Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez

 

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

Content Warning: misogyny, violence, death, rape, racism (including slurs), child abuse, homophobia (including slurs), torture, usage of slurs against the disabled.

Juan is determined to protect his son. A powerful medium, Juan has been exploited and abused by the Order for years, beginning in his childhood, and after marrying and having a child with Rosario -- the daughter of the most powerful family of the Order -- he knows that they will do anything to get their hands on Gaspar, who they plan on using for their own ends. Fleeing across the country after Rosario's untimely death, father and son encounter obstacle after obstacle, from the brutal tactics of Argentina's military dictatorship to Juan's own dark side, a side that often comes out when he is around Gaspar. As Gaspar grows older, it becomes clear that his inheritance is inextricably tied to cruelty, magic, and ultimately, death.

Following many characters and a jumping timeline, Our Share of Night is an epic that does its best to break every storytelling convention you can think of. Written by Mariana Enriquez, an Argentine journalist and author who made it onto the shortlist for the International Booker Prize, this novel is, at its heart, an occult version of the bildungsroman. What I noticed first upon picking this up was her immense ability in creating something that sinks its claws into you. From the very first page, there's intrigue, and also a sense of impending doom, an element that pervades the story from start to finish. We begin in the head of Juan Peterson, a father who is prepared to do anything to save his son from the selfsame cult that has ruined his life. He's mourning the death of his wife, Rosario, the daughter of the wealthy Reyes Bradford family, who also happen to be the foremost leaders of the cult he's so determined to escape. His son, Gaspar, is perhaps a touch too clever for such a young child, mirroring both his rebellious father and mother in many ways.

When Juan and Gaspar are making their way across the country, the military dictatorship -- coming to power during the infamous coup where Isabel Perón was overthrown -- is in full swing. Much of this book is political, and Enriquez deals with those issues both in the form of veiled allegories and in upfront, direct lines that speak of the forced disappearances taking place, of the torture, and the so-called Dirty War tearing the country apart. Enriquez's style of speech and writing is frank, but with characteristic flair and beauty; she never shies away from the ugly, and it makes her stories that much more compelling. Her characters, too, are just as gripping, although I found Gaspar to be strangely shallow in comparison to Juan, Rosario, and the others around him. Juan, in particular, is complex, a multilayered creature that Enriquez isn't afraid of making unlikable. Somehow, against all odds, Juan is sympathetic, a testament to Enriquez's ability to create someone as flawed and interesting as a real person.

For me, this book left me with many questions, and I think that the ending, in all its strange ambiguity, was fitting. This isn't a novel you can pick up and read lightly, and at six-hundred plus pages, it's not exactly something you can breeze through. There's a weight to it, and the sometimes slow pace actually feels beneficial to what Enriquez is trying to impart. I do have a few issues with it, though. Perhaps it's simply meant to be accurate to the time period, but I really didn't like the casual use of racism and racist terms by some of the characters (including those we are supposed to like). It's peppered throughout the book a few times, and while I understand the intent of using it in a character like Mercedes, from a wealthy European family, it was strange to see the weird passage about Gaspar coloring the map and the Chinese. It was pointless, and soured my liking of the book a little. I'd be interested to see these parts in their original Spanish. My other problem is that occasionally, the storyline was just plain confusing. There's a lot of characters, a lot of timelines, a lot of places and people and problems, and every once in a while it became overwhelming.

With that being said, I loved everything else about this novel. It's gritty, fascinating, beautiful, and a wonderfully unique interpretation of cults and magic, made even better by its cultural and political aspects. In many ways, it reminds me of horror books from the '60s and '70s, and in my opinion, there's really no better comparison. 

Book Review: The Witching Hour by Anne Rice

 

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Content Warning: violence, death, murder, racism, misogyny, rape, incest, sexual violence, abortion, miscarriage, torture.

Rowan Mayfair is a brilliant neurosurgeon, the finest amongst her colleagues at her California hospital. Ever since childhood, however, she has been plagued by the knowledge that she is different -- and that her powers are sometimes deadly. When she saves the life of Michael Curry, drowning in the Pacific Ocean, an undeniable attraction starts between them. Michael is convinced that while he was dead, he was given a mission, one that involves returning home to New Orleans, the place he grew up. Rowan, too, has a connection to Louisiana: her adoptive mother made her promise never to go there, and never to have any contact with her family, before her death. But as fate draws Michael and Rowan closer together, they both end up back in New Orleans, and it soon becomes very clear that both of them are caught in a web much larger than they ever could have imagined. Torn between the desire to learn about her family and its history and the promise of a future away from the Mayfair Witches, Rowan will be forced to make a decision that will impact not only her, but everyone she loves.

If you've read any of the latest entries on this blog, you're probably already aware that I'm a huge Anne Rice fan. After getting back into her Vampire Chronicles books, I was also intrigued by the stories of the Mayfair Witches, often purported to be better even than the book I personally consider to be her masterpiece, Interview with the Vampire. What Rice has created in her universe of witches is truly inimitable: complex, beautiful, and above all, grotesque and horrifying. It plays much more deeply on the elements of horror than her vampire books, and speaking with perfect honesty, I now agree with the people who say that this is indeed her best.

Her writing is, as always, gorgeous, perfectly capturing the sweltering Louisiana heat, the feeling of a cultured jungle that permeates the streets of New Orleans. There's nothing quite like reading a Rice book, and somehow, The Witching Hour brings together every gothic element with true finesse. Ultimately, this is a book about family, but with a particular emphasis on matrilineal lines, on the connection between mothers and daughters. Interview with the Vampire contains these themes as well, particularly in the relationship between Louis and Claudia, but here, it is fully realized and becomes a cornerstone of every aspect of the novel.

At its center are two main characters, Rowan and Michael, but throughout a large portion, they take a backseat to the family history and the lives of past Mayfairs. For me, the historical accounts written by the Talamasca are the best parts of this book, exploring their strange powers and lives through epistolary accounts. In many ways, however, Rowan and Michael become slightly less interesting, perhaps one of my few complaints; they seem, somehow, less fleshed out than even the characters who are written about through secondhand narratives. Rowan, especially, suffers a bit from the typical Rice main character problem, being a bit too flawless to be truly likable.

Still, though, I think this book is a triumph in nearly every way. The reason I'm not giving it quite the full five stars, though, mainly has to do with the fact that some sections are painfully boring, and I couldn't quite stomach the details about Julien's life -- he's truly reprehensible, and I can't fathom how he has become a fandom favorite. Also, the racism. Jesus. If you've read other Rice books, though, you probably won't be surprised. Interview with the Vampire will remain at its five stars for me, partly due to nostalgia and partly due to the fact that it's a book I feel changed my life, despite the fact that The Witching Hour is largely superior to it. 

As a whole, I'd recommend this book, and I'm looking forward to picking up the next in this series. It's certainly something that won't be everyone's cup of tea, but The Witching Hour is a fantastic example of what gothic literature is capable of achieving.