Snippet: Songs for Ghosts, by Clara Kumagai

 

Seventeen-year-old Adam has just broken up with his boyfriend Evan and is not looking forward to the excruciating awkwardness at school for the rest of term or a whole summer stuck at home with his dad, stepmom and baby brother, Benji.
But then Adam discovers a diary in some boxes in the attic and is quickly enthralled by their poignant story. They were written by a young woman living in Nagasaki in 1911. Adam is enraptured by her life and loves, becoming totally absorbed in her story. And then he starts to be haunted by her ghostly presence...

Clara Kumagai's Songs for Ghosts is a lovely YA exploration of grief, war, and self-discovery, equal parts chilling ghost story, retelling of the orientalist classic Madama Butterfly, and history lesson. Through the dual narrative - in the modern day, a biracial gay teen finds the diary of a young woman living in Nagasaki at the start of the century - we explore issues of consent, war crimes, and the intricacies of family. The tragic protagonist of Puccini's opera is given depth, a rich inner life, and a somewhat gentler fate that also ends up emboding the very fabric of Japan's tragedy. Her section is filled with old tales and references, effortlessly drawing from Japan's history and folklore. Adam's section mirrors and compliments hers well, though his problems may seem smaller in comparison; throughout the narrative loom very real ghostly presences. The soft ending brings a sense of closure.

✨ 4 stars

Review: Cinder House, by Freya Marske

 

Ella is a haunting. Murdered at sixteen, her ghost is furiously trapped in her father's house, invisible to everyone except her stepmother and stepsisters. Even when she discovers how to untether herself from her prison, there are limits. She cannot be seen or heard by the living people who surround her. Her family must never learn she is able to leave. And at the stroke of every midnight, she finds herself back on the staircase where she died.
Until she forges a wary friendship with a fairy charm-seller, and makes a bargain for three nights of almost-living freedom. Freedom that means she can finally be seen. Danced with. Touched. You think you know Ella's story: the ball, the magical shoes, the handsome prince. You're halfway right, and all-the-way wrong. 

"Some angers, you can never get rid of." 

Freya Marske's Cinder House is a lush Cinderella retelling with a twist. We follow the ghost of Ella as she becomes one with the house she lived and died in, tests the boundaries of her haunting, and reckons with the abuse bestowed upon her by her stepmother and stepsisters. The short format makes for a compact novella, where every word has weight. The unusual premise allows the author to write some very interesting turns of phrase, penning the language of Ella's awakening queer desire with references to her being not only a person, but a house too. Every part of the house can manifest her feelings, and it reads oddly at first, but then it works perfectly. 

Ella is angry, but she hungers too. It really is a perfect methaphor, and Marske explores it deftly. As Ella manages to marginally escape the constraints of the house, so begins her exploration of the city and herself. She looks at men and women both, and finds academic satisfaction in a pen friend who answers all her questions about ghosts. At the same time, she sates her hunger by watching ballet after ballet and enjoying both the performances and the attendants. Things come to a head, and all her worlds crash, when the Prince calls for a ball.

Marske combines what we know of the story with a new take and the exploration of the beginnings of an unconventional polyamorous relationship, working under the constraints of terrible magic. It is a queer tale, but not pretty or easy; it pushes boundaries, and it isn't interested in holding anyone's hand.

Cinder House is a profoundly creative novella.

✨ 4 stars

Review: Cage of Starlight, by Jules Arbeaux

 

Don't make waves, don't get attached, and never let anyone see the tattoos. Those rules have kept Tory Arknett alive, alone, and on the run for years in a country eager to put his healing hands to the work of war. When a desperate display of magic outs him to the authorities, Tory flees—right into the hands of cold and competent Sena Vantaras. Caged in a cruel training facility and threatened with placement on the front lines of a brutal war, Tory needs to get out before he gets dead. There’s just one thing to do before he goes: make Sena pay.
But when a mission strands them in enemy territory, they'll have to work together to survive. As they learn more about each other and the myth behind the magic that connects them, Tory and Sena find belonging with each other. But the trackers the facility has implanted in them will kill them in three days if they don't go back. Soon, Tory and Sena face a desperate decision: their freedom, or their lives? 

"Some stories are like that. Someone has to die." 

Jules Arbeaux's Cage of Starlight is a simple standalone adventure, dealing with a young asexual man, his struggle for freedom, and the lieutenant who's tasked with his training. In a world where their kind of magic is reviled but still used by some, and revered by others, the two fight against systemic slavery and try to carve their own path while coming to care for each other. The development is very fast, though, and the emotional beats don't pay off because we didn't have near enough time to get attached. Sena is an intriguing character, but a bit underdeveloped.

The worldbuilding, while interesting, is all over the place too, with long bouts of infodumping that feel disconnected. The magic system was unique, but the strongest aspect of the book were its twists and turns and the attention given to the supporting cast.

Cage of Starlight has a fantastic premise.

✨ 3 stars

 

Review: Bloodtide, by Sophie Burnham

 

Cracks are forming in the empire’s facade. In the wake of startling revelations and personal betrayals, Tair finds herself the Iveroa Stone's new custodian as she embarks on a battle for Luxana's streets. As the fallout of the fighting pit massacre leads to a rise in legionary crackdowns and vigilante justice, Tair is determined to find a better path forward for Sargassa’s future. Up in the Imperial Archives, meanwhile, Selah tries to make sense of her family’s tangled history within the Imperium's shadowed beginnings.
Elsewhere, in the far-flung reaches of Roma Sargassa's badlands, Arran and Theo undertake a covert mission for the Revenants, one that could tip the scales between victory and defeat in Griff's upcoming war. But long-laid plans and careful maneuvering are nothing compared to the forces of nature, and Sargassa's future might just be determined by the coming storm. 

"No one is nothing. No one exists alone." 

Sophie Burnham's Bloodtide doesn't suffer from second book syndrome as it continues the excellent series that started with Sargassa (HERE you can find my review). It may stumble a bit in the execution in the very first quarter, as it juggles many moving pieces and experiments with different formats to account for the seismic revelation from the first book, but once it finds its footing, it's an ambitious rollercoaster from start to finish, digging deeper into issues of slavery, class, and the circle of violence, but also into the resiliency of human nature. The twists keep coming, too, keeping the reader on the edge of their seat or laughing in delight. Predictably, it ends with a cliffhanger, but the stage is perfectly set for what promises to be an epic conclusion.

The worldbuilding expands to explore more of Sargassa, showing the ruins of a time long past. It's delightful to catch on to the references, or sheepishly realize what they were long after reading them. The city is further explored, too, with more focus on the struggles of the servae as the entire community reckons with a perfect storm that lasts days.

The character work is excellent. Everyone must reckon with terrible truths and with the shocking revelation from the first book, everyone grows and changes and matures. Selah is the definite highlight, on a journey to a paradigm shift and the realization that the system was rigged from the start. Even if she was already sympathetic, here she really takes charge and faces her preconceptions. Her relationship with Tair, so fraught after the first book, is given time to breathe, offering no quick solution, but taking most of the book to bring the both of them to the correct mindspace. The revolution's coming, after all, and they're all very busy.

The other PoV characters are given their time to shine, of course. Maybe Theo remains the more static, but they still get some very interesting moments dealing with their gender identity. Arran gets more to do, and the focus is of course on his dual status that puts him at the edge of society, never really fitting in. Darius was the most surprising; a character that was really hateful in the first book, here he gets some moments that really challenge his worldview, and I get the feeling his will be an interesting journey.

Bloodtide lives up to the hype and raises the bar.

✨ 4.5 stars

 

Snippet: The Chimes, by Anna Smaill

 

In the absence of both memory and writing is music. In a world where the past is a mystery, each new day feels the same as the last, and before is blasphemy, all appears lost. But Simon Wythern, a young man who arrives in London seeking the truth about what really happened to his parents, discovers he has a gift that could change all of this forever.

“Some memories tell us about who we are.”

Anna Smaill's The Chimes is a dystopian YA set in an imagined London where the written word has been forbidden and destroyed and memories don't survive the night. It's a very atmospheric piece of writing, a bit longer than a novella, a love letter to the power of music and the importance of memories. The beautiful first half gives way to a more fast-paced second half as the revolution strikes and young orphan Simon falls in love with a freedom fighter. It's a lovely queer tale from a time (merely a decade ago) when it was still difficult to find anything like it for queer youth.

✨ 4 stars

Review: The Sovereign, by C.L. Clark

 

Luca is the new queen of Balladaire. Her empire is already splintering in her hands. Her uncle wasn’t the only traitor in the court, and the Withering will decimate her people if she can’t unearth Balladaire’s magic. The only person who can help her wants the only thing Luca won’t give—the end of the monarchy.
Touraine is Luca’s general. She has everything she ever wanted. While Luca looks within Balladaire’s borders, Touraine looks outward—the alliance with Qazal is brittle and Balladaire’s neighbors are ready to pounce on its new weakness. When the army comes, led by none other than Touraine’s old lover, Touraine must face the truth about herself—and the empire she once called home. 

"Trust is a choice." 

C.L. Clark's The Sovereign is the excellent conclusion to the Magic of the Lost series (HERE's my review of the second book), a vividly painted tale of love and betrayal that reckons with issues of colonialism and imperialism in a lush world filled with lost magic. Touraine and Luca must reckon with their choices and with their respective duties - to their lands, to their families, to their loves. It's a strong novel, filled with impossible choices, heartbreaking and brutal, but love permeates every step of the way.

The character work is exquisite. The love between Touraine and Luca never wawers, but it's put to the test more than once. As their world comes crumbling down with magical desease, war, and revolution, they stay at the center, dealing with the crisis while trying to navigate their relationship and what it means for their lives and their goals. The tension works because they are often at odds with each other, and the complex duties and loyalties make this book shine. The book careens towards a quiet ending after a mad roller coaster of emotions, and it feels inevitable and perfect.

It's a book filled with loss and grief. With so many characters and a war looming, it doesn't feel like a spoiler to say that not everyone comes out unscathed. And every character has their moment to shine; from the deadly courtesan Sabine, to Touraine's previous lover, to the girl that will end up a symbol of the revolution, every character is lovingly rendered and perfectly understandable in their motivations. Others, old and new, are not mere faces, but each of them expertly written.

The worldbuilding expands, exploring another conquered land, its people and their magic; and Touraine's own people and magic, and Luca's Empire and its lost magic. The book manages to give answers and new questions and paint a well-contained secondary world, maybe not especially creative but expertly crafted.

The Sovereign is an incredible conclusion.

✨ 5 stars

 

Review: Don't Sleep with the Dead, by Nghi Vo

 

Nick Carraway―paper soldier and novelist―has found a life and a living watching the mad magical spectacle of New York high society in the late thirties. He's good at watching, and he's even better at pretending: pretending to be straight, pretending to be human, pretending he's forgotten the events of that summer in 1922.
On the eve of the second World War, however, Nick learns that someone's been watching him pretend and that memory goes both ways. When he sees a familiar face at a club one night, it quickly becomes clear that dead or not, damned or not, Jay Gatsby isn't done with him. In all paper there is memory, and Nick's ghost has come home.

"A heart of paper or a heart made from hungry gears." 

Nghi Vo's Don't Sleep with the Dead  is a companion and sequel to the author's 2021 Great Gatsby retelling The Chosen and the Beautiful. As such, it doesn't really work on its own, but needs knowledge of the retelling, more than of the original novel, in order to make some sense. It's a very atmospheric piece of writing, a kind of horror story with a magical realism feel.

Nick Carraway, who spent the first book pining for Gatsby, still can't stop thinking about him twenty years after his death. The novella deals beautifully with queer longing and abusive relationships while exploring more of Nick's past and present. Drawing from the happenings of real history, this story creates a multifaceted narrative that works well enough.

The novella brims with a kind of restless energy, following Nick as he tries to track down Gatsby's dead essence, dealing with cruel devils and the homophobia of the time. The ending stuns with its casual cruelty and the culmination of queer desire.

Don't Sleep with the Dead is a quiet companion work.

✨ 3.5 stars

 

Review: Fate's Bane, by C.L. Clark

 

The clans of the fens enjoy a tenuous peace, and it is all thanks to Agnir, ward and hostage. For as long as she can remember she has lived among the enemy, learning their ways, growing strong alongside their children. When a burgeoning love for the chieftain’s daughter lures them both to a hidden spring, a magic awakens in them that could bind the clans under one banner at last—or destroy any hope of peace. By working their intentions into leather, they can weave misfortune for their enemies… just like the Fate’s Bane that haunts the legends of the clans.
Ambitions grow in their fathers’ hearts, grudges threaten a return to violence, and greedy enemies wait outside the borders, seeking a foothold to claim the fens for themselves. And though their Makings may save their families, the legend that gave them this power always exacts its price.

"Symbol as I was, I was powerless." 

C.L. Clark's Fate's Bane  is a complex tragedy woven with a lyrical, stunning prose. This compact novella details the tragic love between a hostage and the daughter of her captor, as the years go by and their clans keep warring. With evocative turns of phrase, feeling like a folk tale, this heartbreaking sapphic tale explores the cycle of violence and the cycle of stories, exploring queer longing and the insanity of war.

Told entirely from the perspective of the hostage, this novella breezes through years and years of development, but nothing feels rushed; every word is precise and evocative, especially when it describes the eerie spring that might have doomed or blessed them. Their love starts slow, and burns bright, and it might be the only thing that can save them. But nothing is certain, and in that nebulous unclarity lies the real beauty of this story.

This short masterpiece is perhaps not for everyone, with its soft edges of a story narrated around a campfire, a clan story, a tragedy in the making; but its beauty compels and hurts. Its magic is not the loud magic of high fantasy, but a quieter, uncanny thing, like something straight out of Faerie.

Fate's Bane is a stunning novella.

✨ 5 stars

 

Review: To Clutch a Razor, by Veronica Roth

 

A funeral. A heist. A desperate mission. When Dymitr is called back to the old country for the empty night, a funeral rite intended to keep evil at bay, it's the perfect opportunity for him to get his hands on his family's most guarded relic—a book of curses that could satisfy the debt he owes legendary witch Baba Jaga. But first he'll have to survive a night with his dangerous, monster-hunting kin.
As the sun sets, the line between enemies and allies becomes razor-thin, and Dymitr’s new loyalties are pushed to their breaking point. Family gatherings can be brutal. Dymitr’s might just be fatal.

"I know they're monsters. But a man can love a monster." 

Veronica Roth's To Clurch a Razor is the extraordinary sequel to last year's When Among Crows (HERE you can find my review). A perfectly self-sustained novella, this powerful work deals with teams of grief and abuse. Every word is expertly woven, carefully calculated. We drown once more into Polish folklore as the main characters embark into a borderline suicidal mission in Europe, old wounds are split open, and a new understanding shines through the pain.

This is a compact, painful book, and the author doesn't hold anyone's hand as we bear stunned witness to horror. But there's hope in the luminous relationship between the trio, in the friendship between human and 'monster', in the love between owl and man. Niko and Dymitr are doomed, but only they can save each other; Dymitr can only find repentance in protecting Ala. It's a heartbreaking gem of a book.

The prose is exquisite, simple and cutting. The worldbuilding stuns, too, with its cruel simplicity, drawing from myths and old tales. Baba Yaga is cruel and gentle in equal measure. The ending wraps up everything perfectly, but like the first book, it leaves the door open; and I do hope the author will keep writing this stunning series.

To Clutch a Razor is a small masterpiece.

✨ 5 stars

 

Review: House of Dusk, by Deva Fagan

Ten years ago, Sephre left behind her life as a war hero and took holy vows to seek redemption for her crimes, wielding the flames of the Phoenix to purify the dead. But as corpses rise, a long-dead god stirs, and shadowy serpents creep from the underworld to hunt her, she has no choice but to draw on the very past she's been trying so hard to forget.
Orphaned by the same war Sephre helped win, Yeneris has trained half her life to be the perfect spy, a blade slipped deep into the palace of her enemies. Undercover as bodyguard to Sinoe, a princess whose tears unleash prophecy, Yeneris strives to complete her true mission to recover the stolen bones of a saint. Sinoe's prophecies may hold answers, but allying with the fiercely compassionate princess is perilous. Yeneris must find a way to balance her growing attraction for Sinoe with her duty to her people as they conduct a dangerous search for the source of the king's power.

"We have to choose one path, and give up another."

Deva Fagan's House of Dusk is a compact standalone fantasy, packed full of worldbuilding and wonder. Dealing with complex themes of grief and identity, it follows the journey to self-acceptance of a tortured veteran and a young guard, as they and those around them grapple with the return of an ancient evil and with a long-lost past that is not as it seems.

Sephre, fire-wielding nun with a terrible past that she still mourns and needs to accept, is a great main character, complex and capable. Her relationship with those who welcomed her is heartwarming, and the conflict coming from lies and misunderstandings is handled deftly. The other PoV features a young sapphic guard tasked with an Oracle/Princess's wellbeing, and she's just as complex, torn by different loyalties as she comes face to face with hard truths. The two PoVs run parallel for most of the book, and they come together organically in an explosive ending that ties up all loose ends but leaves the door open for a possible sequel.

The worldbuilding isn't especially complex, but it's rich and vividly detailed, a world where god-beasts control certain facets of living and each ordained an order of humans bestowed with certain powers. The hidden truth of this war-torn realm shows the power of stories and perspective, surprising and delighting the reader.

House of Dusk is a solid standalone.

✨ 4 stars