Review: The Chosen, by Ricardo Pinto

 

Young Carnelian has spent his entire life alone with his father, who years ago rejected the savage cruelty of the Masters of Osrakum and was sent into exile. But now a ship has come flying through the winter gales to shatter his quiet world. Three Masters disembark, and as they remove their masks of gold, Carnelian is awed by the light that seems to radiate from their skin. In formal conclave they beg Carnelian's father to return with them to Osrakum to oversee the election of a new God Emperor.
And so Carnelian begins to fulfill his destiny. Along his perilous journey to the Osrakum, he is forced to learn bitter lessons in bloodshed, power, intrigue, love, and treachery--and sets in motion the concluding events in a story four thousand years old.

​“Your bones are my bones.”

Ricardo Pinto's The Chosen is an intense exploration of imperialism and eugenics, set in an Aztec-inspired world. The main character is a young achillean man who has been living outside of the empire due to his father's self-imposed exile. When circumstances call the patriarch back to the capital, a long journey of loss of innocence begins to take place, and the protagonist has to reckon with the cruelty of the ruling class - whom he belongs to - who call all others barbarians and beneath them, treating servants as less than nothing and raping and killing them as punishment for inane transgressions.

Published at the end of the Millennium, this novel is a product of its time, but it's also surprisingly modern. It's a dark reflection on the absolute power and corruption of a caste system that employs every possible means so that the status quo is not threatened. Most of the book is almost a travelogue of horrors, until the capital is reached and a soft romance seems to bloom with another boy, creating also the exploration of the delicate balance of power in a relationship. The two young men's sexual awakening is handled with grace, with no uncomfortable focus due to their youth. The plot is pretty minimal, but the finale cleverly sets up the rest of the trilogy.

The prose is quite simple, but the rich worldbuilding makes up for it. This is a complex, dark world, beautiful and terrible.

The Chosen is an old gem.

✨ 4 stars

 

ARC Review: Our Caged Fates, by Robin A. Costantin

 

In a frozen, hostile world, Elinros is on the run. After spending far too long in her beloved’s clutches—unaware of his true nature—she has now escaped into the arms of the unknown. But beyond Kastìel’s palace lies nothing but an endless forest, shaken by storms, buried in eternal snow, and teeming with monsters.
In that desolate land, Elinros wanders without memories, one step away from freezing to death and hunted by the man she thought she knew. That is, until an unexpected savior arrives, bringing truth, light, and warmth. Nattsòl is just like her: a survivor who escaped their beloved’s trap—and now she’s willing to do anything to get her revenge. But she needs Elinros’ help to stop him. Accompanied by Sliver, Nattsòl’s monster-dog, the two embark on a dangerous journey into the depths of the forest, where almost no light reaches and sinister things hide in the dark.

My thanks to the author for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Robin A. Costantin's Our Caged Fates is an atmospheric sapphic novella about escaping an abusive relationship and finding oneself again. This is reached through the age-old amnesia trope, and it's done in a way that feels fresh and effective. It's teeming with horrific imagery and near-eldritch beings, with female rage and some upsetting body-horror; but it's also a story about second chances and love.

The main character Elinros slowly relearns things about herself, slowly changing over the course of the book; her relationship to fellow survivor Nattsòl develops quickly, since this is a short novella, but it feels believable. Maybe a few more pages would have helped sell the romance more, but it's still a nice touch, and Nattsòl is very well-developed despite the lack of point of view narration.

The final third of the book is where the action and the most vivid worldbuilding really take place, making this novella pop out. The prose is also quite lyrical, something that's to be appreciated even more since English isn't the author's first language.

Our Caged Fates is a quiet gem.

✨ 4 stars

 

Review: The Last Sun, by K.D. Edwards

 

Rune Saint John, last child of the fallen Sun Court, is hired to search for Lady Judgment's missing son, Addam, on New Atlantis, the island city where the Atlanteans moved after ordinary humans destroyed their original home.
With his companion and bodyguard, Brand, he questions Addam's relatives and business contacts through the highest ranks of the nobles of New Atlantis. But as they investigate, they uncover more than a missing man: a legendary creature connected to the secret of the massacre of Rune's Court. In looking for Addam, can Rune find the truth behind his family's death and the torments of his past?

"I am, before anything else, a survivor."

K.D. Edwards' The Last Sun is a queer urban fantasy adventure that's brimming with heart, with a tight plot and poignant moments. It's witty and fast-paced, but also deals with found families while the protagonist faces the aftermath of a decades-old horrific assault, and there's even a bit of an achillean romance.

The emotional center of the book is without a doubt the platonic relationship between main character and sole narrator Rune and his bodyguard Brand. This beautiful bond of love, trust, and friendship defies the expected conventions of the genre, showing a healthy male relationship filled with moments of intimacy. Rune isn't the stereotypical main character of an action-packed urban fantasy either; he's kind and welcoming while being a competent agent and a great fighter. The romance doesn't take center stage in the narration, also because he's very tentative and traumatized, but his love interest is perfect in that regard. 

This trio of characters plays against each other very well, and I'm curious to see how things will develop in the rest of the trilogy and then the nine-books series. The rest of the cast is very well-developed, too, especially the two young boys with problems of their own.

The prose is very simple and matter-of-fact, but the world-building is very intriguing, teeming with some mysteries about the current situation came to pass and with conspiracies in the shadows, tantalizing tidbits that get the reader's attention while keeping, for now, most of the cards close to the author's chest. New Atlantis is a fascinating city, and so is the complex web of intricate influence held by the Arcana, living embodiments of the tarot cards who hold all the secular power.

The Last Sun is an excellent first installment.

✨ 4.5 stars

 

Review: Honor and Heresy, by Max Francis

 

Roy Dawnseve cares more for philosophy than battle. But, in a society that shuns literature in favour of their ongoing war, Roy must face a difficult choice: brave the front lines or investigate the identity of their foes in the Orphic Basilica, an ancient, abandoned library. When Roy chooses to unravel the mystery, it soon becomes clear that the Orphic Basilica isn’t without its own horrors. Strange voices echo down the halls, ghosts roam the bookshelves, and those who stepped foot in the library have either emerged insane or were driven to their own demise.
Roy’s partner in the investigation is Percival Atherton, a manipulative, enigmatic and distractingly charming scholar who has no qualms about belittling Roy. As a fierce snowstorm isolates them from civilisation, Roy and Percival must grapple with their tormented pasts, an unexpected romance, and an age-old conspiracy whose secrets are certain to wipe Northgard from history.

​“​Better it be my nightmare than a whole country's.”

Max Francis' Honor and Heresy is an achillean dark academia novel set in a fantasy world where scholars are put to death. The intriguing premise doesn't live up to its promise, and we're put in a claustrophobic setting, an enormous library, where our two main characters have to do research about a nebulous threat. The novel is mostly about the research, and while the snippets we get of this world's body of work are tantalising, the focus narrows down to the narrator's trauma.

There wasn't a good balance between plot, worldbuilding, and the character's inner life, and what we get is a strange concoction whose abrupt and truncated ending makes no sense at all and falls absolutely flat. Which is a shame, because the bare bones of the novel are really good. 

Honor and Heresy is a missed opportunity.

✨ 3.5 stars

 

ARC Review: Our Crimson Cage, by Ladz

 

Laura Toperz’s husband will be only gone for a week. Despite hiring a new maid to pick up her duties, she expects the days to go by as they do when her husband is present: mundanely and without incident. She is not prepared to solve a murder. Elżbieta dreams of riches. Being hired as a maid for the wealthy Toperz household might just be her ticket to security. After one of her shifts, she sneaks into the manor’s forbidden basement in search of treasure, hoping for valuables or jewels. Instead, she discovers something starving and solitary, begging to be unleashed. Elżbieta can only give in.
Soon, sanguinary terrors descend upon the town. Unaware of her maid’s transgression, Laura remembers the bloodthirsty woman trapped below: Karmila, who comforted her in her youth. Karmila, whom her late father swore was just an imaginary friend. Karmila, who now paints the town and its maidens red. Having escaped under her watch, Laura must decide what she’s willing to sacrifice to bring back peace and quell the lustful frenzy entrancing everyone around her. Even if it means herself.

My thanks to the author for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Ladz's Our Crimson Cage is a gothic fever dream, taking place in Poland during the Nineteenth century and taking more than a little inspiration from Carmilla. This sharp sapphic novella stuns the reader with its decadent plot and explicit language, detailing the awakening of a monster and centuries of generational trauma bordering on the incestuous.

The book starts with a very informative list of trigger warnings that should be heeded. It is not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for anyone having misgivings about a little touch of blasphemy and broken taboos about menstrual blood. It is a vampire story, and it revels in all its gory and explicit elements, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination and leaving the reader absolutely begging for more.

At its core, it's a tale of liberation from society's constraints; from religion and patriarchy and any social constructs. It is not an easy story, but it leaves you questioning.

Our Crimson Cage is a decadent dessert.

✨ 4 stars

 

ARC Review: The Sun King's Noon, by Briar Niran

 

King Richard of Ardenia knows fear well. The veil is his kingdom's only defence against Gloamvarn—a neighbouring realm of monsters—and it is crumbling.
In a bid to gather allies for the coming war, Richard throws open his court for a grand Summer Ball. As he navigates political wiles and new threats, it becomes hard to hold steady. Harder still, when bitter arguments erupt between him and his devoted knight.
Meanwhile, a long-buried secret threatens to shatter his family and court, and through it all, the Gloam King waits with a smile.

​Thank you to Netgalley for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Briar Niran's The Sun King's Noon is the excellent sequel to The Sun King's Dawn (HERE you can read my review). This second book in the quadrilogy doesn't hold back its punches, continuing the tale of asexual king Richard and his struggles both as monarch of a realm in peril and as a man who finds love for the first time and needs to navigate his feelings. As in the first book, his sex-repulsion features heavily and it's handled deftly, detailling the strong feelings of alienation and the first fluttering beats of a romance that he feels he can't have, duty-bound and unwilling to deny affection to his knight. This is done beautifully and delicately, and it's lovely to see such a nuanced exploration of achillean asexuality in a fantasy novel.

For his part, the knight Kaelen also has some maturing to do, and his journey is worth reading. This continues to be a series about strong relationships, both familial and friendship. Richard learns to open up a bit, to seek counsel more, to heed advice; but he's still strong-willed and used to load everything up on his shoulders, with mixed results. He's a flawed character, but they all are: flawed and incredibly human. The complex web of human relationships is further entangled by the introduction of many new characters as Richard reaches for allies against the threat to his kingdom.

The worldbuilding expands with new kingdoms and people, showing complex traditions and still drawing from our own folklore in a way that is fresh and interesting. The looming threat gives urgency to everything, but there are still some lulls of introspection, quiet moments that are very poignant. One particular moment in the second half of the book, a conversation between Richard and a thief, is especially beautiful and brought tears to my eyes.

The villain gets something of a backseat in this book, still appearing in all his menacing self, but not so overtly present as in the first book. This allows for a tighter focus, and for some really spectacular moments towards the end, a much-needed conversation, and a nail-biting finale.

The Sun King's Noon is a great sequel.

✨ 5 stars

 

Review: The Fox and the Devil, by Kiersten White

 

Anneke has a complicated relationship with her father, Abraham Van Helsing—doctor, scientist, and madman devoted to studying vampires—up until the night she comes home to find him murdered, with a surreally beautiful woman looming over his body. A woman who leaves no trace behind, other than the dreams and nightmares that plague Anneke every night. Spurred by her desire for vengeance and armed with the latest in forensic and investigatory techniques, Anneke puts together a team of detectives to catch her mysterious serial killer. Because her father isn’t the only inexplicably dead body. There’s a trail of victims across Europe and Anneke is certain they’re all connected.
But during the years spent relentlessly hunting the killer, Anneke keeps some crucial evidence to herself: infuriatingly coy letters, addressed only to Anneke, occasionally soaked in blood, and always signed Diavola. Devil. The obsession is mutual, and all the more dangerous for it. The closer Anneke gets to her devil, though, the less sense the world makes. Maybe her father wasn’t a madman, after all. Diavola might be something much worse than a serial killer . . . and much harder to destroy. Because as Anneke unearths more of Diavola’s tragic past, she suspects there’s still a heart somewhere in that undead body. A heart that beats for Anneke alone.

​“Every contact leaves a trace.”

Kiersten White's The Fox and the Devil is a horror mystery filled with sapphic yearning. Much like the author's previous novel Lucy Undying (HERE you can find my review), it takes inspiration from Dracula, although at a much smaller level, only pulling out the character of Van Helsing as a starting point. Here we follow his daughter Anneke as she contends with the fact that monster are indeed real, and we follow her investigation across Europe as she hunts a hunter, a horrific serial killer. Having Dracula in mind meant that I had my own preconceptions about what was happening behind the scenes, and it was delightful to be proven wrong.

White instead writes something that is only marginally about vampires, and more about yearning and obsession and finding something to live for again. Despite her inner turmoil, Anneke is a competent character, a sharp detective, and together with her coterie of friends she solves impossible murders. Diavola is a great foil, and once we get to know her better, a fascinating character. The progression of their relationship, from foes to something more, is slow and quiet, keeping in line with the times.

The writing is simpler than White's previous novel, where she experimented with different formats with stunning results, but this is a quieter story. The author did a lot of research about the society and historical figures of the Nineteenth Century, and it shows. 

The Fox and the Devil is an excellent book.

✨ 4 stars

 

Review: This Vicious Hunger, by Francesca May

 

Thora Grieve finds herself destitute and an outcast after the sudden death of her husband only a few weeks into their marriage, but a glimmer of hope arrives when a family friend offers her spot at a university to study botany under a famed professor. Once at the university Thora becomes entranced by a mysterious young woman, Olea, who emerges each night to tend to the plants in the professor's private garden.
Thora soon discovers that a mysterious illness prevents Olea from leaving the garden. Hungry for connection, Thora befriends Olea through the garden gate and their relationship quickly and intensely blossoms. The visceral connection between Thora and Olea unlocks an obsessive desire in Thora as she throws herself into finding a cure for Olea's ailment. But is this really love or is it merely lustful intoxication? Thora's finally found the freedom to pursue her deepest desires, but at what cost?

"Nobody liked to be reminded of the proximity of grief; least of all the young and beautiful." 

Francesca May's This Vicious Hunger is a sapphic gothic horror novel about grief and finding one’s place as a woman in a world where women can do very little, and about overcoming abuse. The themes are very strong and the writing beautifully lyrical, but the plot is all over the place while slowly ambling, and the characters are a bit cardboard, with the sole exception of the narrator. 

The worldbuilding is confusing, using Latin and some imagery that makes it seem like it's a historical novel, but some other things point towards a secondary world. That being so unclear pulls the reader out.

The most intriguing part is certainly the focus on plants and a form of vampirism, but the abrupt end and the lack of closure doesn't do it any favors.

This Vicious Hunger doesn't hold up to its premise.

✨ 3 stars

 

Review: Obsidian Island, by Arden Powell

 

Emery Lapwing is only interested in two things: exploring the natural world, and pretending that he's not in love with his closest friend, Captain James Rawlings of The Achillean. The first is easy: James will sail him anywhere he wants to go. The second, Emery has been doing for the past ten years. Emery's routine is shattered when he and James are swept overboard in a lightning storm. When the storm passes, they find themselves on the glittering pink beach of an unmapped island where no one has ever walked before.
The island hides a dangerous secret, and James and Emery aren't the only castaways falling under its spell. Monstrous creatures stalk their every move and something is taking root in their dreams, luring them deeper into the island's deadly, tropical heart.

"Any being capable of creating art must have a soul, surely." 

Arden Powell's Obsidian Island is an achillean horror adventure set some time during the Nineteen century, featuring four sailor friends with different background as a storm makes them land on a deliciously creepy island. From something much like Castaway, then, the atmosphere switches very quickly as the group - at first separated - reckon with various terrifying natural threats and with a seemingly sentient, monstrous tree. Running parallel to this is the subplot of queer desire in a time and society where queerness was punished with death. 

The best aspect of the novel is certainly the creepiness and slow horror of the island; the interpersonal relationships, on the other hand, are not so well developed, and while the primary couple at least has some meaty history, the secondary couple seems to come out of nowhere.

Obsidian Island is an intriguing read.

✨ 3 stars

 

 

 

ARC Review: The Sun King's Dawn, by Briar Niran

 

Burdened with an inability to desire others, King Richard of Ardenia still finds peace in his unruly siblings, his loyal circle, and even in his young knight, Sir Kaelen, whose yearning stares he has spent years ignoring. But when Richard rides to a borderland village to investigate eerie happenings, all peace shatters. The veil containing Gloamvarn, a neighbouring realm filled with fell beasts and unimaginable horrors, is cracking. Sooner or later, it will fall.
As Richard hunts for a way to safeguard his kingdom, Kaelen stays close, a constant, protective presence that stirs a strange tenderness Richard doesn’t dare name. For the monsters have a new ruler. And the tyrant hungers not only for Ardenia. But its king, too.

Thank you to the author for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Briar Niran's The Sun King's Dawn is a gorgeous achillean romantasy with the slowest of burns, first volume of a quartet, featuring an asexual king and his loyal knight. Told exclusively from the point of view of the king, the novel is a deft exploration of sex-repulsed asexuality and of how alienating it feels to live in a world where everyone expresses their love through carnality. At the same time, it's a novel about finding out one's own way to express love.

King Richard is a beautiful protagonist, complex in his grief and in his belief to be defective. He fiercely loves his siblings, and puts their well-being over his own more than a few times. His loyal knight shines bright with fealty and honor and with the kind of all-encompassing love that the bards sing about, but to the king it's anathema, and source of endless embarrassment and disgust, despite holding deep affection and trust for the knight. This creates a very interesting dynamic that promises to become much more intricate as the series goes on, without the need to somehow "fix" the King.

The worldbuilding and writing might be deemed simple, but they hold up very well, creating the perfect backdrop for the story. This is a secondary world with many creatures from our legends and a basic magical system, but the way it all blends is quite nicely done; the kingdom of the vampire-like creatures especially comes to mind, and there's some really horrifying moments linked to the overall threat of the book, a coming corruption of the flesh. In that regard, threat of sexual violence is also present, but handled expertly in a sensitive manner.

The main villain is perfectly villainous and quite disgusting in his pursuit, while his motivations may at first feel at least partly justified. We feel Richard's despair and horror as the book goes on and the villain's leery overtures become more and more explicit and terrifying. The rest of the cast holds up very well; Richard's three siblings are all well developed, and especially his kid sister is a delight.

The Sun King's Dawn is a perfect first installment.

✨ 5 stars

 

Review: Paladin's Hope, by T. Kingfisher

Piper is a lich-doctor, a physician who works among the dead, determining causes of death for the city guard's investigations. It's a peaceful, if solitary profession…until the day when he's called to the river to examine the latest in a series of mysterious bodies, mangled by some unknown force.
Galen is a paladin of a dead god, lost to holiness and no longer entirely sane. He has long since given up on any hope of love. But when the two men and a brave gnole constable are drawn into the web of the mysterious killer, it's Galen's job to protect Piper from the traps that await them. He's just not sure if he can protect Piper from the most dangerous threat of all…

"Maybe a hero is just what we call someone who doesn’t have the sense to stop before they destroy themselves." 

T. Kingfisher's Paladin's Hope is a fantastic adventure set in the author's World of the White Rat, a series of interconnected series, and while it's the third in the Saint of Steel series and references many other works, it's a perfect standalone or entry point. Starting off as a cozy mystery with mild horror vibes, it quickly turns into a survival game in a death trap, and even deals with the aftermath while delving into issues of racism.

Running parallel to the mystery is the romance subplot between an honorable warrior with a dangerous problem and a bone-doctor who thinks he can't have nice things. The tension can be cut with a knife, and the resolution of their relationship isn't so clear-cut, adding some very good conflict to the mix.

The worldbuilding is incredible, touching on many mysteries and vestiges of times long past while giving away few answers and pulling in the reader for more. We have various god-touched Paladins and an overarching mystery that doesn't get resolved, and a whole race of badgerlike sentient beings with a complex cast system and language; the gnole Earstripe is an excellent coprotagonist, with some real depth and great one-liners.

Paladin's Hope is a delightful read.

✨ 4 stars

 

Review: Holy Wrath, by Victoria Mier

In a city clinging to light during an age of darkness, all healer Ophelia wants is for a Saint to finally claim her. Since being brought to Lumendei as an orphan nearly thirty years ago, she’s worked tirelessly to prove herself worthy of the Mysteries—the sacred, magical power that only the Saints can bestow upon mortals of their choosing. When she’s tasked with caring for an injured prisoner, Ophelia sees the perfect way to prove she’s ready for her Sainting. The prisoner is none other than the Umbra Knight—the most dangerous warrior of Lumendei’s sworn enemy, the Sepulchyre. If she can save the Umbra Knight’s soul by converting her to the Church of the Host, the Saints will surely fight amongst themselves to claim Ophelia.
But the disarmingly beautiful and undeniably deadly knight’s soul is in even worse shape than Ophelia feared. In fact, she insists Ophelia’s beloved God is a murderous liar and her adopted city is built on blackened bones. It’s easy to dismiss as blasphemy, at least at first. Until Lumendei’s gilded secrets begin to tumble from their hiding places and Ophelia herself uncovers a conspiracy ... then she’s forced to consider the idea that Nyatrix—otherwise known as the Umbra Knight—might be telling the truth, and that saving the alluring knight’s soul is the least of her concerns.

"Can a god so eager to punish you truly love you?" 

Victoria Mier's Holy Wrath is a sapphic romantasy focused on religious trauma and bodily autonomy. As such, it's teeming with trigger warnings (chief amongst them, a very graphic flogging scene and attempted rape) and should be approached with caution. The issues are treated with care and respect, but might still be upsetting to read.

The religious trauma is based upon a pretty clear stand-in for Catholic religion, with a Jesus-like figure and Catholic imagery that are rotten behind the veneer of respectability. It's not just an issue of patriarchy, although that aspect is certainly present, but the very core of the religion is corrupted. The first half of the novel is especially crude and horrifying in that regard, as we follow the only PoV, a thirty-years-old woman who has lived in the church for most of her life and is indoctrinated to see all the abuse as just and normal. Fortunately she appears to be having doubts even some time before the gorgeous and deadly enemy captain makes her appearance and starts to awaken in her desires she has been denying all her life because of the rampant homophobia the church exhibits.

The second half of the book loses some of the shine, as secrets are revealed and we fall into more action and a relatively deus-ex-machina resolution that still brings the point of the novel across. The world-building would have benefitted from more attention, though, especially after such a stellar first part. On the romance side, Ophelia and Nyatrix work as perfect opposites, but the dismantling of Ophelia's religious trauma feels very sudden, brought forth basically by the joys of sex. While that is a powerful statement, maybe the book would have benefitted from some more back and forth in that regard, as Ophelia changes much in very little time.

On the other hand, the book excels in the exploration of Ophelia's disability and how it has controlled every aspect of her life while making her seen as defective. In contrast to the church's view, Nyatrix treats her with respect, and those passages on bodily autonomy are particularly poignant. 

Holy Wrath is a gorgeous standalone exploration of trauma.

✨ 4 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: 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

 

Snippet: The Gilda Stories, by Jewelle Gomez

 

This remarkable novel charts the unending life of Gilda, a young woman who - after escaping slavery in Louisiana in 1850 - is made into a vampire. After being initiated into eternal life as one who 'shares the blood', Gilda spends the next two hundred years searching for a way to exist in the world.

“Pledge yourself to pursue only life, never bitterness or cruelty.”

Jewelle Gomez' The Gilda Stories is a lesbian classic and an extraordinary exploration of the horror of slavery and racism, combined with all the trappings of a vampire novel. This literary classic doesn't have a plot per se, but it's more of a sequence of moments over the course of two hundred years, and the reader follows happily along as Gilda meets people and makes fundamental changes. At its core, it's a novel about being Black and queer in America, and about giving back what you're given. It's a healing experience, a beautiful read.

✨ 4 stars

Review: Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil, by V.E. Schwab

 

1532. Santo Domingo de la Calzada.
A young girl grows up wild and wily—her beauty is only outmatched by her dreams of escape. But María knows she can only ever be a prize, or a pawn, in the games played by men. When an alluring stranger offers an alternate path, María makes a desperate choice. She vows to have no regrets.
1827. London.
A young woman lives an idyllic but cloistered life on her family’s estate, until a moment of forbidden intimacy sees her shipped off to London. Charlotte’s tender heart and seemingly impossible wishes are swept away by an invitation from a beautiful widow—but the price of freedom is higher than she could have imagined.
2019. Boston.
College was supposed to be her chance to be someone new. That’s why Alice moved halfway across the world, leaving her old life behind. But after an out-of-character one-night stand leaves her questioning her past, her present, and her future, Alice throws herself into the hunt for answers . . . and revenge. 

"We grow together in this garden."

V.E. Schwab's Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil is a somptuous tale of revenge, hunger, and female rage. Set in three different time periods, it meanders with little plot and beautiful atmospheric vibes, reading like one of the early Anne Rice novels. At its core, it's a story about what we are willing to do to survive in a world that tries to control us, a world where women are silenced. Even the latest portion, set in more recent times, shows how things might not be like in the Sixteenth Century, but women are still used and abused. And when the characters have the means to escape such a prison, it's not pretty. Schwab's vampires are full of contradictions, soft but violent, ruled by a hunger that cannot be sated.

Each of the three main characters is so completely different, in how vampirism takes and in their own needs and desires, but each of them longs for freedom. Sabine is larger than life, a creature of paroxysmal desires, made vicious by marital rape; uncaring of anything but her comfort, she lashes out and hers is a slow descent to madness, one all vampires must feel sooner or later. Charlotte lived a sheltered life, making her susceptible to the trap springing around her; she contains the most contradictions, a sweet girl whose need for warmth and connection leads to terrible acts maybe not of her doing, but maybe something that she could prevent. Alice is half formed, her past trauma revealing itself through flashbacks, now a young woman in need of direction and a new hope; of the three of them, she is the only one that can live her sexuality freely, but that doesn't mean that she's any more free. Their lives intertwine and tangle them together while they try to make sense of their new state. 

Schwab draws on the mythos, taking from Rice and Stoker and Le Fanu and making new rules. The poem at the heart of the novel, the metaphor of the rose, is quite evocative and once again it reminds of Rice's Savage Garden. We see other vampires, adding to the context and showing different ways to be a vampire, perhaps some better than others. The book careens towards an explosive ending that may seem a little abrupt after the intense buildup, but it works incredibly well.

Half star off because at this level of notoriety the author should have someone check if the sprinkled foreign language - in this case, Italian - she uses is actually correct. I also have my doubts about seadas being served in a restaurant in Rome in the Fifties.

Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil is a terrific vampire novel.

✨ 4.5 stars

 

👩🏽🩸👩🏻‍🦰 So you want to read about sapphic vampires?

Click here to see what I've reviewed so far! 

Review: The Lure of Their Graves, by Laura R. Samotin

Dimitri Abramovich may have won back the throne of Novo-Svitsevo, but even after defeating his former husband, the usurper Alexey Balakin, he seems no closer to securing lasting peace for his people. Enemies are closing in on all sides, and pressure is mounting for Dimitri to play the one card he has left in a bid for stability—offering his hand in marriage for a second time.
But Dimitri is still healing from the tragedies of the war, his return to the throne, and Alexey's years of torment. Vasily Sokolov is the only person with whom he feels safe, and giving up the comfort of their budding relationship feels unfathomable, even if it's the only way to sever the alliances being formed among the countries surrounding Novo-Svitsevo. So as Dimitri and Vasily reckon with political treachery, the lasting consequences of Dimitri's resurrection, and the sinister legacy of Alexey’s use of the Holy Science, they must also work to understand what it means to love each other even as they prepare to let each other go—which might prove the most difficult of all.

"Nothing of me is left in you. You have no claim to me."

Laura R. Samotin's The Lure of Their Graves is the epic conclusion to a poignant duology about surviving abuse (HERE you can find my review of the first installment in the series). After the first book's gut-wrenching finale, here is a tale about healing, something that takes a lot of time and a lot of false starts, especially when one is also faced with threats against the kingdom. This book is especially angsty, a feat after the already bleak first installment, and many chapters are tinged with despair, especially when it comes to the political marriage aspect.

Dimitri lives for his kingdom, and the agony of having to choose a spouse for the good of his kingdom, instead of following his heart and choosing Vasily, almost tears him apart. This is amplified by the fact that he can't envision a sexual relationship for its sake and the sake of the kingdom: he's described as asexual, possibly demisexual, and the marital bed would be a violation almost worse than what he survived during his first marriage. Vasily's chapters are just as painful, because he sees the choice in fronts of Dimitri and knows that he has to do what's best, but it kills him. Their encounters are mired with so much pain, and so much love, that one has to pace the reading or else be overwhelmed with emotion. And yet, it's such a hopeful book, and gentle, and kind. It's also very explicit in its descriptions of the sex scenes between Dimitri and Vasily.

The supporting cast is a delight, expanding on the core characters of the first book, Dimitri's found family, and adding Dimitri's suitors from other realms, and others. The suitors are vibrant characters, very different from each other, each of them with their own goals and needs, and we can't hate them, even though their mere presence is agony. On the other hand, we're once again subjected to Alexei's hateful POV, and he's just as skeevy and completely oblivious to the damage he caused as in the first book. His threat is one that has to be confronted too, but there will be help from an unlikely source, bringing to a close and to a satisfying ending another heartbreaking subplot from the first book.

The world-building, inspired by Jewish and Eastern European folklore, continues to be fascinating. It's not expanded upon, but what we already knew is enough to frame the story without weighing too much on the mental journey of the characters.

The Lure of Their Graves is a powerful conclusion.

✨ 4 stars

Review: Someone You Can Build a Nest In, by John Wiswell

Shesheshen is a shapeshifter, who happily resides as an amorphous lump at the bottom of a ruined manor. When her rest is interrupted by hunters intent on murdering her, she constructs a body from the remains of past meals: a metal chain for a backbone, borrowed bones for limbs, and a bear trap as an extra mouth.
However, the hunters chase Shesheshen out of her home and off a cliff. Badly hurt, she’s found and nursed back to health by Homily, a warm-hearted human, who has mistaken Shesheshen as a fellow human. Homily is kind and nurturing and would make an excellent co-parent: an ideal place to lay Shesheshen’s eggs so their young could devour Homily from the inside out. But as they grow close, she realizes humans don’t think about love that way.

"Hatred was the fear people let themselves enjoy."

John Wiswell's Someone You Can Build a Nest In is a cozy horror story about love, loving yourself, and overcoming abuse, from the perspective of the monster, a blob who can rearrange her insides and her outsides to her liking. Her voice is so clear, and funny, with her matter-of-fact observations about humans and what little she understands of them, but she's also a deep character, with what seems to be a moral compass and a clear understanding of what is right and wrong in the human world.

The narration swings wildly between mild gore and sweet musings, in a mix that makes for an incredibly interesting read. We follow Sheshesen's terrible first day after hibernation, and we see her stumble right into some horrifying human drama while rapidly falling in love with a woman who saved her, not knowing what she is. This book has some pointed things to say about what trauma does to a person, and what it means to fall in love with traits that are trauma responses, and how to be there for someone who grew up in an abusive household.

I didn't see the twist coming, but keener readers might have no problem identifying it. I do think that it takes away some of the strength of the story, because it's a neat explanation and doesn't allow for true accountability, but the strong ending makes up for it. I also might have missed the logistics of some things.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In is a wild tale from start to finish.

✨ 4 stars

Review: But Not Too Bold, by Hache Pueyo

The old keeper of the keys is dead, and the creature who ate her is the volatile Lady of the Capricious House⁠―Anatema, an enormous humanoid spider with a taste for laudanum and human brides. Dália, the old keeper’s protégée, must take up her duties, locking and unlocking the little drawers in which Anatema keeps her memories. And if she can unravel the crime that led to her predecessor's death, Dália might just be able to survive long enough to grow into her new role.
But there’s a gaping hole in Dália’s plan that she refuses to see: Anatema cannot resist a beautiful woman, and she eventually devours every single bride that crosses her path.

"I hate being seen."

Hache Pueyo's But Not Too Bold is a Mexican novella leaning heavily on the weird side, with an ephemeral mystery plot that's more there to push the story along. The narrative follows Keeper of the Keys Dália as she investigates a theft under orders of her employer Anatema, a spider eldritch being who lives as a recluse on the third story of an isolated mansion filled with devoted servants. Anatema is appropriately terrifying, the detailed descriptions of her appearance a nightmare not only for arachnophobes.

This is a short story about learning to be seen. It's not just the eldritch being who needs to learn that and to trust her servants and her wives with her appearance, but also Dália, with her reluctance to be anything other than a servant with no aspirations and desires. Slowly, she finds herself willing to take risks and accept and embrace her desires - in short, being bold. The sweet ending perfectly encapsulates the titular motto.

But Not Too Bold is a short delight.

✨ 3.5 stars

Review: Lucy Undying, by Kiersten White

Her name was written in the pages of someone else's story: Lucy Westenra was one of Dracula's first victims. But her death was only the beginning. Lucy rose from the grave a vampire, and has spent her immortal life trying to escape from Dracula's clutches--and trying to discover who she really is and what she truly wants. Her undead life takes an unexpected turn when, in twenty-first-century London, she meets another woman who is also yearning to break free from her past. Iris’s family has built a health empire based on a sinister secret, and they’ll do anything to stay in power.
Lucy has long believed she would never love again. But she finds herself compelled by the charming Iris, while Iris is mesmerized by the confident and glamorous Lucy. But their intense connection and blossoming love is threatened by forces from without. Iris's mother won't let go of her without a fight, and Lucy's past still has fangs: Dracula is on the prowl again. Lucy Westenra has been a tragically murdered teen, a lonesome adventurer, and a fearsome hunter, but happiness always eluded her. Can she find the strength to destroy Dracula once and for all, or will her heart once again be her undoing?

"We're mausoleums, holding the girls we were with tenderness, and love, and strength."

Kiersten White's Lucy Undying is a sapphic and feminist retelling of Dracula, told through the perspective of Lucy Westenra and spanning one hundred and fifty years. There are two timelines; one set in the present, where a young woman escaping a cult finds young Lucy's diary, detailing her version of the Dracula novel, and the other detailing the years after the end of the Dracula novel, with Lucy searching for meaning, for Dracula, and for herself. The two storylines converge into a soft sapphic romance and an explosive ending where a conspiracy is unearthed and dealt with.

This is a novel about sapphic yearning, finding your true self, forgiving yourself, and the struggle against patriarchy. It's also a radical retelling of some core aspects of the original novel, and staunch fans of the book might not appreciate those changes, but they work in the context of this story, and make for an interesting perspective. The way these changes are tied to the present storyline works well enough, turning the book into a kind of thriller.

The final third of the book loses the balance of the first two thirds a little, as the cult storyline takes precedence and a new PoV is added in the form of short glimpses into the mind of a predator. Almost like in Dracula, the author plays a lot with different kinds of narrative styles, employing first person narration, second person, letters and texts, a third person section, and bits that read a little like Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire. This might feel chaotic at first, but it's handled deftly enough.

The book shines with the vividly painted vampires Dracula created over the years, especially three figures that return again and again in Lucy's tale, and gives justice and agency to Lucy, painting the tragedy of being a young woman trapped by societal rules. Her journey is really the focal point of the novel, while also portraying the trappings of modern day cult-like organizations.

Lucy Undying is a sumptuous retelling.

✨ 4 stars