Snippet: When Among Crows, by Veronica Roth

On Kupala Night, Dymitr arrives in Chicago’s monstrous, magical underworld with a perilous mission: pick the mythical fern flower and offer it to a cursed creature in exchange for help finding the legendary witch Baba Jaga. Ala is a fear-eating zmora afflicted with a bloodline curse that’s slowly killing her. She's just desperate enough to say yes to Dymitr, even if she doesn’t know his motives.
Over the course of one night, Ala and Dymitr risk life and limb in search of Baba Jaga, and begin to build a tentative friendship. . . but when Ala finds out what Dymitr is hiding, it could destroy them both.

“Magic is crooked, and so are we.”

Veronica Roth's When Among Crows is an excellent novella about grief, regret, and redemption. With a few deft strokes and a masterful economy of words, it paints a complete story with fascinating protagonists and explores a well-described world teeming with creatures from Slavik folklore. Chicago comes to life and so do banshees and stryga and zmory. The queer development was a welcome surprise, an ephemeral attraction growing into acceptance and love.

✨ 4.5 stars

Snippet: The Wizard and the Welshman, by Laura Rayndrop

London, December 1886. A woman is gruesomely murdered, a mysterious organ missing from her cracked-open chest. Investigating the case, Kensington’s top inspector, Hal Hawthorne, quickly discovers that the victim wasn't human—and neither is her killer. When he saves the captivating wizard November from becoming the next target, Hal is thrust into a world of nightmarish creatures and dark magic. But the deeper Hal becomes entangled in the case, the more he comes to believe that November isn’t just a wizard with mind-bending powers, but also holds the key to unraveling the web of dark magic and murder.
Can Hal solve the case and protect November, or will the murderer claim him and destroy Hal’s life forever? And what will Hal have to sacrifice to stop the killings and save the man he’s come to love?

“Every person who entered a crime scene took something from it.”

Laura Rayndrop's The Wizard and the Welshman is a cozy way to start the new year, a romantasy mystery featuring a no-nonsense cop with a painful past, a male sex worker with a secret, and a chaotic world-building. The mystery at the heart of the story is a series of gruesome murders; to solve the case, the cop will have to tangle himself with a magical underworld he had no idea existed. The story is pretty simple in its beats, but simple is good sometimes. The worldbuilding is where it falls flat, with a plethora of magical beings all lumped together and no clear worldbuilding. This is balanced by a heartfelt exploration of child trauma and homophobia, culminating in a precious moment at the end. This book is the first in a trilogy.

✨ 3.5 stars

Review: Don't Let the Forest In, by C.G. Drews

High school senior Andrew Perrault finds refuge in the twisted fairytales that he writes for the only person who can ground him to reality—Thomas Rye, the boy with perpetually ink-stained hands and hair like autumn leaves. And with his twin sister, Dove, inexplicably keeping him at a cold distance upon their return to Wickwood Academy, Andrew finds himself leaning on his friend even more.
But something strange is going on with Thomas. His abusive parents have mysteriously vanished, and he arrives at school with blood on his sleeve. Thomas won’t say a word about it, and shuts down whenever Andrew tries to ask him questions. Stranger still, Thomas is haunted by something, and he seems to have lost interest in his artwork—whimsically macabre sketches of the monsters from Andrew’s wicked stories.

"We let our love for each other cut us to the bloody core."

C.G. Drews' Don't let the Forest In is an excellent YA horror story about loneliness, grief, and rage. The only POV, an asexual boy struggling with bullies and with his growing feelings for his roomate, has to face a sudden supernatural threat that might have even come from himself. His codependent relationship with his roomate, an angry boy abused by his parents, and the similarly codependent relationship with his twin sister, the only one who believes in him, are explored beautifully, creating a tangle of emotions and a marvelous exploration of asexuality.

Growing parallel to this is the exploration of the bone-chilling threat coming to their isolated prestigious school, turning the surrounding forest into a place of untold horrors. The body horror imagery is quite strong, and so is the constant sense of something being utterly wrong. Things come to a head in the moving finale, where the readers realize all the pieces were there all along for them to fix the puzzle. I'm not ashamed to say I didn't figure out the twist until it was spelled out, but it was exhilarating to return to the previous pages and find the clues in plain sight.

More enterprising readers might figure it out sooner, but it shouldn't take from the overall enjoyment of this little gem. At its core, it's a story about the extent of what we would do for the people we love, and whether that's even right or wrong. The answer isn't so simple.

The prose is exquisite, very lyrical and also explicit in its horrific descriptions. The novel features illustrations and short fairy tales that are the very same that are described in the book, as the main characters are respectively an artist and a writer, and the role of their works is quite interactive.

Don't let the Forest In is a quiet marvel.

✨ 4 stars

Review: The Shabti, by Megaera C. Lorenz

Can you flimflam a ghost? It’s 1934. Former medium Dashiel Quicke travels the country debunking spiritualism and false mediums while struggling to stay ahead of his ex-business partner and lover who wants him back at any cost. During a demonstration at a college campus, Dashiel meets Hermann Goschalk, an Egyptologist who’s convinced that he has a genuine haunted artifact on his hands. Certain there is a rational explanation for whatever is going on with Hermann’s relics, Dashiel would rather skip town, but soon finds himself falling for Hermann. He agrees to take a look after all and learns that something is haunting Hermann’s office indeed. Faced with a real ghost Dashiel is terrified, but when the haunting takes a dangerous turn, he must use the tools of the shady trade he left behind to communicate with this otherworldly spirit before his past closes in.

"Are you actually suggesting that we try to flim-flam a ghost?"

Megaera C. Lorenz's The Shabti is an atmospheric ghost story set in the Thirties, featuring two protagonists in their forties while they try to solve a mystery and they helplessly fall in love. The only POV, a former swindler with a conscience, gets increasingly attached to an impossibly kind Egyptologist plagued by an infestation problem, and the resulting closed door romance is a sweet affair that warms the heart.

The supernatural threat stems from a possessed figurine, the eponymous shabti, and dealing with it results in very suggestive pages, especially during the scenes set in dark places. Another far more human threat comes from Dashiel's jilted lover and former associate, grounding the narration when needed.

The attention to detail shown in the descriptions of Egyptology of the time, also shows in the usage of appropriate language for that time period, featuring old-timey turns of phrase that make the reading experience a delight. The author also takes their time exploring the world of fake spiritualism with a firm hand, but the chaotic ending doesn't really stick the landing.

The Shabti is a fun adventure for ghost story lovers.

✨ 3.5 stars

Review: A Wolf Steps in Blood, by Tamara Jerée

Yasmine is a red wolf girl stuck in rural Alabama. Her world is small: pick up shifts at the greasy late-night diner and endure her pack’s petty squabbles. She’s not good at being a wolf or being human, directionless in life and disconnected from her ancestors. Blessed by a century-old enchantment, the local red wolves have escaped extinction by blending into the human world. But with the old witches’ blessing wearing thin, the wolves face an uncertain future.
An answer arrives in the form of an exiled blood witch whose magic is steeped in reckless grief. Kalta rides into town in her dead brother’s truck, prophecy following on her heels. Despite the danger Yasmine can smell swirling around the witch, a fated bond tangles their futures—and those of all the wolves.

"I want to tear out the throat of the world."

Tamara Jerée's A Wolf Steps in Blood is a sweet novella about a werewolf finding her place in her pack, seeking peace in her shifting, and meeting her fated mate. When a witch hiding a painful secret passes through, the two form a bond that defies all logic and allows Jasmine to grow, reclaim her ancestry, and try and mend her family too.

The lovely and evocative prose carries the reader through the quick adventure as the pair find companionship, learn to navigate their relationship, and find closure and a sense of belonging. The worldbuilding is minimal, but it gets the work done. This is a quick palate cleanser between heavier reads.

A Wolf Steps in Blood is a quiet beauty.

✨ 3.5 stars

Review: The Lost Future of Pepperharrow, by Natasha Pulley

1888. Five years after they met in The Watchmaker of Filigree Street, Thaniel Steepleton, an unassuming translator, and Keita Mori, the watchmaker who remembers the future, are traveling to Japan. Thaniel has received an unexpected posting to the British legation in Tokyo, and Mori has business that is taking him to Yokohama. Thaniel's brief is odd: the legation staff have been seeing ghosts, and Thaniel's first task is to find out what's really going on. But while staying with Mori, he starts to experience ghostly happenings himself. For reasons Mori won't--or can't--share, he is frightened. Then he vanishes.
Meanwhile, something strange is happening in a frozen labor camp in Northern Japan. Takiko Pepperharrow, an old friend of Mori's, must investigate. As the weather turns bizarrely electrical and ghosts haunt the country from Tokyo to Aokigahara forest, Thaniel grows convinced that it all has something to do with Mori's disappearance--and that Mori may be in serious danger.

"Grace is not a thing you performed, but a weight you carried".

Natasha Pulley's The Lost Future of Pepperharrow is the stunning conclusion to the duology that began with The Watchmaker of Filigree Street. The journey of Thaniel and Mori, together with their adoptive daughter, reaches new highs and lows as we learn more about Mori, his morality and the lengths he's willing to go to to protect who he loves.

Mori is such an intriguing character because in another book, he could easily be a villain (in fact, some characters think he is). But we see him through Thaniel's loving eyes, we see his vulnerabilities and strengths, and we can't help but be completely enamored with him, with his quiet strength and his resolve. His are the lines that make us dissolve into a sobbing mess, his the trials and tribulations, in the pursuit of something he eventually can't even remember.

Thaniel gets a much needed depth too, and it's fascinating to see how he navigates his relationship with Mori, with the orphan Six, and with the new character Pepperharrow, a tragic and compelling figure. All the new characters felt alive and believable, with complex motivations of their own, and I was delighted to even find some old faces from the first book.

This sequel was so much better, both in composition and pacing. The prose was of course lovely already in the first book, but the author has such graceful writing, like a warm hug even in the direst circumstances. I loved that we got some more information about how Mori's clairvoyance works, and the ether, and glimpses of this alternate history. I especially loved the change in setting, with the author taking us to Japan and demonstrating a deft hand in painting the country through the eyes of a stranger. I enjoyed her choices in terms of dialogue and her note about it at the end.

The Lost Future of Pepperharrow is a masterful conclusion to a lovely duology.

✨ 5 stars

📚📚📚 IF YOU LOVE THIS, YOU MIGHT LIKE:

* The Kingdoms, by Natasha Pulley

for: memory, time

Review: The Knowing, by Emma Hinds

Whilst working as a living canvas for an abusive tattoo artist, Flora meets Minnie, an enigmatic circus performer who offers her love and refuge in an opulent townhouse, home to the menacing Mr Chester Merton. Flora earns her keep reading tarot cards for his guests whilst struggling to harness her gift, the Knowing - an ability to summon the dead. Caught in a dark love triangle between Minnie and Chester, Flora begins to unravel the secrets inside their house. Then at her first public séance, Flora hears the spirit of a murdered boy prostitute and exposes his killer, setting off a train of events which put her life at risk.

"We are all ghosts".

Emma Hinds' The Knowing is a dark atmospheric piece about abuse and recovery, with a number of chilling scenes. The true horror, as in the best books, comes not from the supernatural elements (Flora has the ability to see and be possessed by ghosts) but from the abuse and harsh threatment of women during the Nineteenth Century.

This book doesn't hold its punches, tackling dark themes like incest, rape, forced abortion, and pedophilia. Flora was taken in by an abusive man when she was very young, and so was Minnie, a past circus performer with dwarfism. The two of them are quickly drawn to each other, but their own relationship isn't devoid of red flags. The so-called "love triangle" in the blurb is less that and more of an "abuse triangle", with Flora and Minnie seeking comfort in each other. The complex tangled web of their intersecting lives makes for a poignant reflection on abuse and the lies we tell ourselves in order to survive.

The supernatural part is handled well and it's appropriately harrowing, with ghosts that are victims of violent crimes and bent on revenge. I appreciated the focus on the card reading, another facet of Flora's Knowing, one she can teach others as well; her healing seems to settle in one such scene.

With this kind of setting I wasn't certainly expecting an HEA ending, but while a sudden tragedy strikes in the second half of the book, things end up looking up, in a way.

The Knowing is a gritty debut.

✨ 3.5 stars

📚📚📚 IF YOU LOVE THIS, YOU MIGHT LIKE:

* Wild and Wicked Things, by Francesca May

for: flawed characters, abuse

Review: Providence Girls, by Morgan Dante

Love changes you. So do the Outer Gods. Alone in a cottage, Lavinia writes to the woman she loved. Fifteen years ago, middle-aged Lavinia Whateley escaped her hilly Massachusetts town when the townsfolk decided to sacrifice her on Halloween. After almost dying in the woods, she's saved and housed by the stoic and mysterious Asenath Waite, or Azzie. On the coastal outskirts of East Providence, they start to fall in love.
However, things change when Azzie, with her secret past and the strange "scars" on the side of her neck, begins to transform into an eldritch creature of the deep.

"To dance fiery and without abandon after you've lost everything". Morgan Dante's Providence Girls is a sapphic horror story that draws heavily from Lovecraftian lore. Brimming with body horror and upsetting imagery, it's a tale of finding comfort and compassion against all odds, of finding solace in companionship. The book starts off with a helpful list of trigger warnings. I don't usually read horror - I'm too much of a scaredy cat - but the plot intrigued me and I told myself it couldn't be that bad. Boy, was I wrong!

Being unfamiliar with Lovecraft, I was wholly unprepared for what was coming, while still being somewhat familiar with the concepts enough that when certain names started dropping, I realized what was going on. Still, I kept reading because the prose is absolutely lovely, filled with stunning turns of phrase; the story is also incredibly compelling. It's set up as an epistolary novel, with an older Lavinia recounting their months together, while Azzie is writing as events unfold, and Lavinia is reading Azzie's words in the present. The format meant that I thought I had the outcome figured out, but I was pleasantly surprised.

For all the unspeakable horror in the story - not just the Lovecraftian horror, but the more mundane horror of domestic abuse - this is such a tender story of resilience and love. It's an ode to healing and overcoming your trauma, and to find body autonomy again.

Providence Girls is a delightful novella, but I wouldn't recommend it if you're squeamish.

✨ 4 stars

📚📚📚 IF YOU LOVE THIS, YOU MIGHT LIKE:

* The Faerie Hounds of York, by Arden Powell

for: body horror, disturbing imagery

Review: The Magpie Lord, by K.J. Charles

Exiled to China for twenty years, Lucien Vaudrey never planned to return to England. But with the mysterious deaths of his father and brother, it seems the new Lord Crane has inherited an earldom. He’s also inherited his family’s enemies. He needs magical assistance, fast. He doesn't expect it to turn up angry. Magician Stephen Day has good reason to hate Crane’s family. Unfortunately, it’s his job to deal with supernatural threats. Besides, the earl is unlike any aristocrat he’s ever met, with the tattoos, the attitude... and the way Crane seems determined to get him into bed. That’s definitely unusual.
Soon Stephen is falling hard for the worst possible man, at the worst possible time. But Crane’s dangerous appeal isn't the only thing rendering Stephen powerless. Evil pervades the house, a web of plots is closing round Crane, and if Stephen can’t find a way through it—they’re both going to die.

"There's no good doing the right thing unless you stop people doing the wrong thing". K.J. Charles' The Magpie Lord is a fun victorian gothic fantasy novel that's brimming with heart, featuring a trip to the countryside to deal with a case of magical attacks that seems to have no explanation. The book starts heavily, with an attempted suicide, but this is quickly explained to be caused by a curse and then dealt with efficiently. Touching upon heavy themes of classism and consent, and featuring some body horror and mentions of incest, the novel lightens these subjects up with stellar dialogue and a strong romantic attraction between our two leads.

The magic system is intriguing, featuring also a bureaucractic aspect that I guess will be better explored in the other two books of the trilogy. We have magical ancestors, blood magic, creepy apparitions, sex magic, tingly touch-magic; many elements that contribute to make this a deliciously eerie book. It reminded me, at times, of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, but there's no Faerie here. When the eponimous Magpie Lord and all things connected are revealed, things get very interesting.

The main characters are fantastic; one a lord banished from his home due to his proclivities, the other a magic practicioner with a justified grudge, they clash beautifully. Their relationship grows organically, but despite the steamy scenes between them I wouldn't classify this as a romance, nor a romantasy. The main issue is the magical mystery and the many abuses from people in power. Lucien's past in China is teased relentlessy, with constant comments and little references that whet the appetite. Stephen's backstory seems to still keep some things hidden, but what we have is enough to get a measure of him as a just man. Lucien's manservant is another well-rounded character I hope will have more focus on the next books. The villains is where this book falls a bit short, since they're unveiled at the end, to be people we've never seen. A good mystery should show us the culprit, try to make us guess.

The novel features period-typical homophopia, countered by the freedom Lucien enjoyed in China. This makes for an interesting dynamic with Stephen, although the constant mentions of their size difference and respective heights was a bit grating, veering somewhat into seme-uke territory; but the book makes up for it with constant and thorough discussions about consent and agency.

The Magpie Lord is a steamy magical mystery with great promise.

✨ 4 stars

📚📚📚 IF YOU LOVE THIS, YOU MIGHT LIKE:

* Witchmark, by C.L. Polk

for: magical romance, political struggles

Snippet: The Shadow Cabinet, by Juno Dawson

Niamh Kelly is dead. Her troubled twin, Ciara, now masquerades as the benevolent witch as Her Majesty's Royal Coven prepares to crown her High Preistess. Suffering from amnesia, Ciara can't remember what she's done--but if she wants to survive, she must fool Niamh's adopted family and friends; the coven; and the murky Shadow Cabinet--a secret group of mundane civil servants who are already suspicious of witches. While she tries to rebuild her past, she realizes none of her past has forgotten her, including her former lover, renegade warlock Dabney Hale.
On the other end of the continent, Leonie Jackman is in search of Hale, rumored to be seeking a dark object of ultimate power somehow connected to the upper echelons of the British government. If the witches can't figure out Hale's machinations, and fast, all of witchkind will be in grave danger--along with the fate of all (wo)mankind.

"You've taken things apart and put them back together". Juno Dawson's The Shadow Cabinet is a good sequel that build on the excellent first book to create another solid, funny, and poignant reflection on feminism, intersectionalism, and incel-like groups. The plot thickens and consequences are reaped; twists and turns keep you on the edge of your seat. This was a page-turner that I devoured in one sitting. The lovely wlw couple from the first book gets some excellent focus.

✨ 4 stars

Review: A Long Time Dead, by Samara Breger

1837. Poppy had always loved the night, which is why it wasn’t too much of a bother to wake one evening in an unfamiliar home far from London, weak and confused and plagued with a terrible thirst for blood, to learn that she could no longer step out into the day. And while vampirism presented several disadvantages, it more than made up for those in its benefits: immortality, a body that could run at speed for hours without tiring, the thrill of becoming a predator, the thing that pulls rabbits from bushes and tears through their fur and flesh with the sharp point of a white fang.
And, of course, Roisin. The mysterious woman who has lived for centuries, who held Poppy through her painful transformation, and who, for some reason, is now teaching her how to adjust to her new, endless life. A tight, lonely, buttoned-up woman, with kindness and care, pressed up behind her teeth. The time they spend together is as transformative to Poppy as the changes in her body, and soon, she finds herself hopelessly, overwhelmingly attached. But Roisin has secrets of her own, and can’t make any promises; not when vengeance must be served. Soon, their little world explodes. Together and apart, they encounter scores of vampires, shifty pirates, conniving opera singers, ancient nobles, glamorous French women, and a found family that throws a very particular sort of party. But overhead, threat looms—one woman who is capable of destroying everything Poppy and Roisin hold dear.

"I want to watch you split the world like an orange and drink the juice". Samara Breger's A Long Time Dead is a phenomenal standalone sapphic vampire tale that reads like the best Anne Rice. Breger's vampires seem to borrow a few things from The Vampire Chronicles, but they're so full of life that it's a joy to read. We're thrown right into the thick of action as Poppy wakes up after being turned and she spends the first part of her new life being helped through the transition by a tragic figure that she immediately comes to love. What follows is a slow and tormented and rich journey towards a found family; a tale about belonging and about overcoming abuse in a relationship.

Poppy isn't a gloomy protagonist; she's a ray of sunshine, and she cares deeply. Even when she faces hardships, she keeps her sunny personality. She's crass at times, but she's so alive, in every way. She loves the joys of food, and in fact the loss of it is one of the first things she bemoans when she realizes that now she has to feed exclusively on blood. Before being turned she was a sex worker, and she's always very candid in her desires. The numerous sex scenes in the book are never gratuitous, and they're so well written.

In general, the prose is fantastic. There are turns of phrase that grip you and amaze you and leave you reeling. Breger plays with the tropes of the genre and crafts a unique tale brimming with exhilarating tidbits and cameos and also fully exploring Catholic guilt. The choice to give very few chapters to Roisin works well, because we're given front seats to the depth of Poppy's devotion. Roisin is driven and consumed by the need for revenge, self-sacrificing; but gradually she finds her will to live again.

The rest of the cast is delightful, from Poppy's oldest friend to the Coven she finds, five vampires that welcome her into their lives and love her unconditionally; from her new mortal maid, just as foul-mouthed as her, to the incredible villain, a despicable and amoral character. Every thread is accounted for, every hint acknowledged and resolved and brought to a satisfying conclusion.

A Long Time Dead is a joyous gothic tale.

✨ 4.5 stars

Snippet: When the Angels left the Old Country, by Sacha Lamb

 

Uriel the angel and Little Ash (short for Ashmedai) are the only two supernatural creatures in their shtetl (which is so tiny, it doesn't have a name other than Shtetl). The angel and the demon have been studying together for centuries, but pogroms and the search for a new life have drawn all the young people from their village to America. When one of those young emigrants goes missing, Uriel and Little Ash set off to find her.
Along the way the angel and demon encounter humans in need of their help, including Rose Cohen, whose best friend (and the love of her life) has abandoned her to marry a man, and Malke Shulman, whose father died mysteriously on his way to America. But there are obstacles ahead of them as difficult as what they’ve left behind. Medical exams (and demons) at Ellis Island. Corrupt officials, cruel mob bosses, murderers, poverty. The streets are far from paved with gold.

This is a lovely immigrant tale. Sacha Lamb's When the Angels left the Old Country will seem very familiar to Good Omens fans, but Jewish culture permeates the narration and the story couldn't be more different, a tale of antisemitism, friendship, and justice. The relationship between the genderless angel and the small demon is the best part of the book, but all the small interations with all the people they met on the way are truly delightful, and Rose is a perfect co-protagonist.

✨ 4 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

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

Snippet: Devotion, by Hannah Kent

 

Prussia, 1836. Hanne is nearly fifteen and the domestic world of womanhood is quickly closing in on her. A child of nature, she yearns instead for the rush of the river, the wind dancing around her. Hanne finds little comfort in the local girls and friendship doesn't come easily, until she meets Thea and she finds in her a kindred spirit and finally, acceptance.
Hanne's family are Old Lutherans, and in her small village hushed worship is done secretly - this is a community under threat. But when they are granted safe passage to Australia, the community rejoices: at last a place they can pray without fear, a permanent home. Freedom.

This book stays with you for a long time. Hannah Kent's Devotion is a delicate, mesmerising tale of love and loss, written with an absolutely stunning prose. The memorable half-way point of the novel veers the story into the more magical aspects that could be surmised from the first half: Hanne has some kind of magical ability, being able to hear the song of nature. In Australia she will find different songs and see her community change and thrive. The doomed love story with Thea strikes a perfect balance between devotion and obsession, showing the lengths we go to in order to stay with our loved ones.

✨ 5 stars

Review: Her Majesty's Royal Coven, by Juno Dawson

 

At the dawn of their adolescence, on the eve of the summer solstice, four young girls--Helena, Leonie, Niamh and Elle--took the oath to join Her Majesty's Royal Coven, established by Queen Elizabeth I as a covert government department. Now, decades later, the witch community is still reeling from a civil war and Helena is now the reigning High Priestess of the organization. Yet Helena is the only one of her friend group still enmeshed in the stale bureaucracy of HMRC. Elle is trying to pretend she's a normal housewife, and Niamh has become a country vet, using her powers to heal sick animals. In what Helena perceives as the deepest betrayal, Leonie has defected to start her own more inclusive and intersectional coven, Diaspora. And now Helena has a bigger problem. A young warlock of extraordinary capabilities has been captured by authorities and seems to threaten the very existence of HMRC. With conflicting beliefs over the best course of action, the four friends must decide where their loyalties lie: with preserving tradition, or doing what is right.

This isn't just a witchy tale. Juno Dawson's Her Majesty's Royal Coven is brimming with discussions of gender and intersectionality that enrich the narration and make it a unique story. The major conflict of the story reveals itself at the halfway point, turning an already interesting storyline about fate and fatalism into a heartfelt defense of the right to be what we are. I won't name the transgender character because their identity isn't mentioned in the summary and the story is constructed in such a way to make it an earth-shattering reveal, but I have to note that I had accidentally spoiled myself and yet that knowledge made the experience of reading the first half much more poignant.

The once tight-knit group of friends at the center of the narration is made up of well-rounded, flawed characters. Their relationship is at times fraught, but always bound by the shared trauma of a past war which is very much still present, simmering in the background and sometimes steering their choices. Of the four named in the summary, Helena and Niamh take pretty much center stage, their actions driving the book to its brutal conclusion. One could hope the other two will feature much more in the next book: Elle's side-plot has some thorny complexities; Leonie's coven needs to be fleshed out more. Leonie's wlw relationship also took the backseat against the focused plot. But there were tender moments, and conflict, and it seems to be setting up for a bigger spotlight.

I must warn that the narrative is firmly set in our present. Something in the summary made me think it would be set in the past, and I saw I wasn't the only reader thinking that, so it bears warning. I loved the backstory, the history of the coven going back to Elizabeth I and her mother. I'm definitely biased because I love Elizabeth I, but it seemed like the perfect starting point for the narrative. The book also strongly reminds me of the Freeform series Motherland: Fort Salem, which is a plus as far as I'm concerned.

The book features a transphobic character who is pretty vocal about their hate, so one should proceed with caution.

Her Majesty's Royal Coven is a moving journey that isn't afraid to pull any punches.

✨ 4 stars