List: Best Books of 2022

2023 is almost here and here I am, attempting to list my favorite books of the year! This is going to be hard: to avoid a headache, I've decided to list only five titles; but having to choose was excruciating.

Without further ado, in no particular order of appreciation save from this first title who's already among my all time favorites:

You can find my review here. This book has so much heart, and it's so complex and beautiful, that it truly is a must read. If you can read only one book from the many I reviewed this year, make it this one.

You can find my review here. This stunning novel isn't for the faint of heart, exploring the cruelties of Old Hollywood with a dash of faerie, beautiful and dangerous and just as much cruel.

You can find my review here. A delicate exploration of trauma and endurance, of healing despite all odds, of intimacy and acceptance. A lovely book that must be read with caution.

You can find my review here. A perfect second volume for a perfect series, rich and complex and terrifying in parts; love isn't enough when the fate of the world is at stake.

You can find my review here. Perfect for fealty enthusiasts, this book is a loving comfort read set in a richly detailed world and features a thorough exploration of anxiety and power differentials in a relationship.

Review: The Faerie Hounds of York, by Arden Powell

 

William Loxley is cursed. A pale and monstrous creature haunts his dreams, luring him from London to the desolate, grey landscape of his forgotten childhood. There, it will use him to open a door to Faerie—a fate that will trap Loxley in that glittering, heathen otherworld forever.
His only hope of escaping the creature's grasp lies with John Thorncress, a dark and windswept stranger met on the moors. The longer Loxley stays in Thorncress' company, the harder it becomes to fight his attraction to the man. Such attraction can only end in heartbreak—or the noose.

This was terrifying, for me, personally. The pale and monstrous creature? Its descriptions are so vivid that I was about to throw my kindle away. Arden Powell's The Faerie Hounds of York is an atmospheric novella that I couldn't enjoy fully because that thing just kept creeping me out. It's not classified as a horror, but uhhh for me it was! I couldn't focus on the intriguing plot because that thing kept lurking. The romance was bittersweet, with unexpected twists and turns. The conclusion was fantastic.

The Faerie Hounds of York is a solid novella for horror enthusiasts.

✨ 3 stars

Review: The Spear Cuts Through Water, by Simon Jimenez

 

The people suffer under the centuries-long rule of the Moon Throne. The royal family—the despotic emperor and his monstrous sons, the Three Terrors—hold the countryside in their choking grip. They bleed the land and oppress the citizens with the frightful powers they inherited from the god locked under their palace.
With the aid of Jun, a guard broken by his guilt-stricken past, and Keema, an outcast fighting for his future, the god escapes from her royal captivity and flees from her own children, the triplet Terrors who would drag her back to her unholy prison. And so it is that she embarks with her young companions on a five-day pilgrimage in search of freedom—and a way to end the Moon Throne forever. The journey ahead will be more dangerous than any of them could have imagined.

“This is a love story to its blade-dented bone.” Simon Jimenez's The Spear Cuts Through Water defies the boundaries between genres. Is it a sweeping narration of the bonds between people? Is it an oral story? A stunning theater performance? An analysis of the monsters of our own creation? Is it going to make you cry about turtles? Is it a beautiful love story? Is it a tragedy? Is it full of hope? Yes. A sound, earth-shattering Yes to all of the above. This book changes you. I'm trying to find a way to talk about this, but the truth is that this book left me speechless.

The basics, then. The plot, as seen above, is pretty straightforward while also being filled with twists and turns and moments so powerful and touching in their simplicity. At its core, it's also a love story about two violent people, showing them slowly getting closer and finding comfort in each other. But this isn't the story. This is the performance, as shown to the protagonist: you. Is it a real story? Did it happen, in the past of the protagonist's world? Absolutely. Does it blend perfectly with the performance, until you lose yourself in the narration? You bet it does.

If you don't like the second person narration, it's likely you won't like this novel. It's very diffucult to get it right, after all. But this novel gets it exactly right. It doesn't take you out of the book, but rather draws you further in, leading you to the Inverted Theater and its wonders. There are also small segments in the first person, like a chorus in a Greek Tragedy, punctuating the more poignant moments, and it works. Everything works perfectly, like clockwork, creating a stunning tapestry of a novel.

Every character is important. Every small interation counts. Love is the most important thing there is, especially loving yourself. The world is rich, lived in, with astonishing bits of worldbuilding (did I say you'd be crying about turtles?); even the glimpses we get about the present, though less developed, are intriguing. The prose is truly phenomenal, lyrical and evocative. There are terrible depths of depravity and gut-wrenching moments of hope.

The Spear Cuts Through Water is my favorite book of the year. Perhaps it will become yours too?

✨ 5 stars

Review: The Book Eaters, by Sunyi Dean

 

Out on the Yorkshire Moors lives a secret line of people for whom books are food, and who retain all of a book's content after eating it. To them, spy novels are a peppery snack; romance novels are sweet and delicious. Eating a map can help them remember destinations, and children, when they misbehave, are forced to eat dry, musty pages from dictionaries.
Devon is part of The Family, an old and reclusive clan of book eaters. Her brothers grow up feasting on stories of valor and adventure, and Devon—like all other book eater women—is raised on a carefully curated diet of fairytales and cautionary stories.
But real life doesn't always come with happy endings, as Devon learns when her son is born with a rare and darker kind of hunger—not for books, but for human minds.

This was phenomenal. Sunyi Dean's The Book Eaters skirts the horror genre with its visceral description of the way mind eaters feed, but the real horror comes from the isolation of book eater women and the exploitation of their lives and their reproductive system: since book eaters are a dying species and very few women are born, the women get carted off to various families to produce children, until they become infertile and are brought back to the family they were born in. Every once in a while the babies aren't normal book eaters, but are instead mind eaters, feeding on brains: considered monstrous and once killed, they are now exploited as well, as dangerous enforcers, and kept in place by drugs and by a violent organization that abuses its own enforcers.

The subject matter is incredibly dark, but the book is filled to the brim with hope, impossible and everlasting, showing how the power of stories can help breaking free from a restrictive upbringing. Even when trapped, the protagonist Devon keeps her wits about her, willing to do anything in order to survive and to keep her son alive. This brings her to villanous extremes as well, but all the same, you can't help rooting for her to find peace.

For most of the book, it's very difficult to find any positive interation for Devon, leading to thinking of this book as very bleak. But small pockets of light finally shine through: in her friendship with the brother of her second husband, who shows her kindness and acceptance in a terrible household; in the growing relationship with another book eater woman, who's perhaps leading her towards salvation, and in the acceptance of the attraction between them; in the incredibly complex relationship with her son. Scattered throughout are a few chapters from the point of view of Devon's brother, and they feel incredibly violent and intrusive, not only because of their shattered relationship, but also because of what became of him due to a childhood indiscretion. It's the system of the Families, though, of this terrible patriarchy, that is the real villain in the book.

The setting was intriguing; the book eaters live among us, sequestered away in large mansions, and they don't usually mix with humans. There's no explanation given, no origin story; a chapter's epigraph suggests that it might either be aliens or magic.

The Book Eaters is an exploration of motherhood and womanhood that keeps the reader hooked.

✨ 4 stars

Snippet: My Real Children, by Jo Walton

 

It's 2015, and Patricia Cowan is very old. "Confused today," read the notes clipped to the end of her bed. She forgets things she should know—what year it is, major events in the lives of her children. But she remembers things that don’t seem possible. She remembers marrying Mark and having four children. And she remembers not marrying Mark and raising three children with Bee instead. She remembers the bomb that killed President Kennedy in 1963, and she remembers Kennedy in 1964, declining to run again after the nuclear exchange that took out Miami and Kiev.
Her childhood, her years at Oxford during the Second World War—those were solid things. But after that, did she marry Mark or not? Did her friends all call her Trish, or Pat? Had she been a housewife who escaped a terrible marriage after her children were grown, or a successful travel writer with homes in Britain and Italy? And the moon outside her window: does it host a benign research station, or a command post bristling with nuclear missiles?
Two lives, two worlds, two versions of modern history. Each with their loves and losses, their sorrows and triumphs. My Real Children is the tale of both of Patricia Cowan's lives...and of how every life means the entire world.

Think Sliding Doors, but queer and more poignant. Jo Walton's My Real Children is a stunning exploration of the difference that the tiniest choices can make. It's a character-driven piece that only turns more distinctly sci-fi at the very end, leaving the ending open to interpretation; Walton, ever the the practiced writer, deftly paints the two alternate versions of history.

✨ 5 stars

Snippet: In the Vanisher's Palace, by Aliette de Bodard

 

When failed scholar Yên is sold to Vu Côn, one of the last dragons walking the earth, she expects to be tortured or killed for Vu Côn's amusement.
But Vu Côn, it turns out, has a use for Yên: she needs a scholar to tutor her two unruly children. She takes Yên back to her home, a vast, vertiginous palace-prison where every door can lead to death. Vu Côn seems stern and unbending, but as the days pass Yên comes to see her kinder and caring side. She finds herself dangerously attracted to the dragon who is her master and jailer. In the end, Yên will have to decide where her own happiness lies—and whether it will survive the revelation of Vu Côn’s dark, unspeakable secrets...

This is a novella done exactly right. Aliette de Bodard's In the Vanisher's Palace is a queer, sci-fi retelling of Beauty and the Beast where the Beast is a shape-shifting dragon; set in a Vietnamese-like world, this is a post-colonial dystopia weaved with a lyrical prose, and a stunning novella about healing.

✨ 4 stars

Review: Even Though I Knew the End, by C.L. Polk

 

A magical detective dives into the affairs of Chicago's divine monsters to secure a future with the love of her life. This sapphic period piece will dazzle anyone looking for mystery, intrigue, romance, magic, or all of the above.
An exiled augur who sold her soul to save her brother's life is offered one last job before serving an eternity in hell. When she turns it down, her client sweetens the pot by offering up the one payment she can't resist―the chance to have a future where she grows old with the woman she loves.
To succeed, she is given three days to track down the White City Vampire, Chicago's most notorious serial killer. If she fails, only hell and heartbreak await.

This had so much potential. C.L. Polk's Even Though I Knew the End is a short novella that could have had more room to breathe if only it had more pages. If there's something you'll have understood about me over these first few months, it's that novellas are really hit and miss for me; often I find them lacking, underdeveloped. This is no exception: I was really excited about the premise, but the excecution left me hanging; both the relationships and the world-building felt like they were missing something.

It's still a solid story, a good mystery with a sweet established relationship at its core. The protagonist struggles with her fate and with the way a fatal decision changed her life, and throughout the story there is good social commentary. I added half a star because the conclusion genuinely surprised me and gave a new meaning to the narration.

Even Though I Knew the End is an entertaining novella, but it wasn't for me.

✨ 3.5 stars

Review: A Master of Djinn, by P. Djèlí Clark

 

Cairo, 1912: Though Fatma el-Sha’arawi is the youngest woman working for the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities, she’s certainly not a rookie, especially after preventing the destruction of the universe last summer.
So when someone murders a secret brotherhood dedicated to one of the most famous men in history, al-Jahiz, Agent Fatma is called onto the case. Al-Jahiz transformed the world 50 years ago when he opened up the veil between the magical and mundane realms, before vanishing into the unknown. This murderer claims to be al-Jahiz, returned to condemn the modern age for its social oppressions. His dangerous magical abilities instigate unrest in the streets of Cairo that threaten to spill over onto the global stage.
Alongside her Ministry colleagues and her clever girlfriend Siti, Agent Fatma must unravel the mystery behind this imposter to restore peace to the city - or face the possibility he could be exactly who he seems...

This was a fun and poignant murder mystery. P. Djèlí Clark's A Master of Djinn is set in a pre-WWI steampunk version of Cairo and sees the protagonist attempt to solve a gruesome murder while navigating her relationship with a new colleague and the blossoming romance with a mysterious woman. Scattered throughout are references to a novella and two novelettes set in the same city; while I hadn't read these three works before, the lack of knowledge didn't impede my enjoyment of the novel, because the mentions were detailled enough that one could keep reading while not worrying to have missed some information, and tantalizing enough to make me add the three works to my to-read list.

The world painted by the author is incredibly immersive and detailled, an alternate take on history after a monumental change that is only a few decades old: the appearance of djinn in the world. The djinn are fascinating characters, and their incorporation in the daily life, and the change that it brings on things like faith and international politics, is one of the more interesting parts of the novel. I was a little blindsided by the sudden appearance of other supernatural entities, but I seem to understand that they were better explained in one of the novelettes.

Fatma, though hailed by everyone around her as an incredible detective, isn't hyper-competent, and I appreciated that. She's human and she makes mistakes, even mistakes that could hinder the investigation, but she's sharp when it counts, and profound, and funny; she's well-rounded and incredibly likable. There's an incredible attention to detail in even the smaller characters, and this helps paint a vivid mosaic an an interesting story. I enjoyed immensely the romance with Siti, but more than that, the way Siti's character helped explore the issues of racism in the story.

The novel seems to be a stand-alone story, but I got the impression that there could be many more adventures, and I'll eagerly consume anything that comes next; the setting was simply delightful, reminding me of the Bartimeus trilogy in more than one nostalgic occasion.

A Master of Djinn is a perfect read for mystery lovers.

✨ 4 stars

Review: The Councillor, by E.J. Beaton

 

When the death of Iron Queen Sarelin Brey fractures the realm of Elira, Lysande Prior, the palace scholar and the queen’s closest friend, is appointed Councillor. Publically, Lysande must choose the next monarch from amongst the city-rulers vying for the throne. Privately, she seeks to discover which ruler murdered the queen, suspecting the use of magic.
Resourceful, analytical, and quiet, Lysande appears to embody the motto she was raised with: everything in its place. Yet while she hides her drug addiction from her new associates, she cannot hide her growing interest in power. She becomes locked in a game of strategy with the city-rulers – especially the erudite prince Luca Fontaine, who seems to shift between ally and rival.

This Machiavellian debut keeps you on the edge of your seat. E.J. Beaton's The Councillor is full of scheming and politics, with an elegant prose that enriches the experience. The protagonist and sole point of view, Lysande, is an incredibly complex character, a highly competent scholar with a drug addiction, a woman with a few secrets of her own. Over the course of the novel she will also learn the finer points of the art of politics. The tension is built perfectly towards the incredible climax of the novel, where secrets are laid bare and new foundations laid out for what I believe to be the second and last novel of the series.

Magic is feared, and magic users are killed and despised. The world-building is excquisite, with different cultures that are part of the empire expertly and vividly described. There's a true sense of depth, especially when Lysande recalls histories and treatises and also uses them to find hidden thruths.

The characters are all complex and multi-dimensional, with relationships just as complex. The city-rulers shine, but it's also the smaller characters who are depicted perfectly with a few deft strokes. The Iron Queen, dead at the beginning of the novel, had a major part in Lysande's upbringing and is often mentioned, permeating the narrative with her presence. Lysande also has to battle with what the Queen meant for her, and what she did for her country, giving a perfect conflict to the story. I also loved her growing relationship with her new maid, made of fondess, duty, and respect.

This is a queernormative world, so the conflict doesn't come from the romance; in truth, the romance isn't a main focus of the story, though Lysande spends much time thinking about her lovers, past and present, and a mlm romance between two side characters is at the center of a subplot. Lysande is bisexual, and while her past lover is a woman and isn't discarded by the narrative, she's now more focused on pursuing a male lover, or two, each of them with their own agendas.

The Councillor is an excellent first installation, perfect for anyone who wants a cerebral read.

✨ 4 stars

Snippet: This is How You Lose the Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

 

Among the ashes of a dying world, an agent of the Commandant finds a letter. It reads: Burn before reading. Thus begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents hellbent on securing the best possible future for their warring factions. Now, what began as a taunt, a battlefield boast, grows into something more. Something epic. Something romantic. Something that could change the past and the future.
Except the discovery of their bond would mean death for each of them. There's still a war going on, after all. And someone has to win that war.

This novella is a love letter. This is How You Lose the Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, needs no introduction; it was vastly acclaimed and it's still an instant classic. The prose is lyrical, intense, grandiose; the plot a mosaic slowly coming together. This book is an experience.

✨ 5 stars