Review: Crueler Mercies, by Maren Chase

 

After nine years as the people’s beloved princess in the sun-soaked Kingdom of Carca, Vita witnesses the execution of her mother by her father’s hand. Forced into exile, Vita fades into obscurity with her only friends—the crows that visit her window.
Eleven years later, Vita is given a choice: marry an enemy general, granting him legitimacy to take the throne, or die as the forgotten princess. With time running out, Vita meets Soline, an intriguing lady-in-waiting who introduces her to the powerful-but-unstable magic of alchemy. If Vita and Soline can learn to control it—and the undeniable spark between them—they could burn the world of men to the ground.

​“Our legacy will be carved into the very core of this kingdom.”

Maren Chase's Crueler Mercies  is a sapphic tale of female rage, slowly meandering towards a strong ending. Vita's development is delayed when she gets thrown into a tower for years, making her a little slow on the uptake once she gets freed; in that sense she's a believable protagonist, although in the second half of the book she exhibits political acumen that would have been difficult to have with what we know of her life in the tower. Still, her naivete remains and gets put to the test often. Her relationship with the woman tasked as her lady-in-waiting develops organically enough, and Soline is a gorgeous foil, savvier and more knowledgeable.

The worldbuilding is pretty basic; magic as a strong importance in the second half of the book, but it's fainly developed and barely mentioned in the first half, making it feel like a deus-ex-machina. The two warring realms are pretty interchangeable, barring from some basic differencies. The main antagonists though are intriguing enough, and especially the general is menacing in his simple cruelty. The ending is impactful in its simplicity and suddenness.

Crueler Mercies is a nice standalone.

✨ 3.5 stars

 

Review: The Oblivion Bride, by Caitlin Starling

 

In the glittering city state of Volun, Lorelei Steddart never thought she'd be anything but an office drone-until her family all die under mysterious and likely magical circumstances, leaving her to inherit everything. To figure out what's happened, her uncle marries her off to the city state's top War Alchemist, Nephele Corisande, an intimidating older woman who might just be able to save her. But what starts as a marriage of pure convenience becomes something deeper. Soon Lorelei and Nephele must untangle a terrible magic that has metastasized into something new and unstable, born in Lorelei's blood.

​“​Too well did he know the feeling of love where no​ love ought to live.”

Caitlin Starling's The Oblivion Bride is a sapphic science fantasy that packs so much in the form of a very short novella. Written beautifully with crisp prose, it details a tale of grief and love, entwined with a magical and medical mystery that has been killing off an entire family. The theme of arranged marriage is explored well, together with pregnancy, and the relationship between young woman and older general develops naturally despite the constraints of their contract.

The worldbuilding gives up tantalizingly little, just enough to get the lay of the land, but it works perfectly. We get the sense that it's a lived-in, complicated world with many city-states and a distant Emperor set on war. Magic twists together with science, towards an ending that feels very satisfying despite the more atmospheric shift.

The Oblivion Bride is a delicious novella.

✨ 4 stars

 

Review: The Gentleman and his Vowsmith, by Rebecca Ide

 

Lord Nicholas Monterris, the last remaining heir of a crumbling ducal house, must marry to save his family from complete decline. His father chooses Lady Leaf Serral, eldest daughter of his greatest rival, at which point Nic is sure it can’t get any worse. Until he learns the head negotiator is to be Dashiell sa Vare, an old flame he has neither forgiven nor forgotten, a man their rigid class structure forbids him to love.
Locked in the mouldering grandeur of Monterris Court (a house more haunting manifestation of dynastic ambition and ancestral guilt than home), the first dead body is troubling. The second, a warning that someone doesn’t want the contract to go ahead. But while Nic and his wife-to-be team up to banter their way through a secret murder investigation, it’s Dashiell he can’t stop thinking about. What would be worse? To love and have to let go, or to wholly deny the yearning of one’s heart forever?

​“​Too well did he know the feeling of love where no​ love ought to live.”

Rebecca Ide's The Gentleman and his Vowsmith is an achillean romantasy murder mystery with a lot of moving pieces that unfortunately don't work quite so well with each other. The plot, while simple, is all over the place, with the late addition of some twists and turns that don't make much sense. The worldbuilding is again very simple, and while the concept of the binding contracts and the illusion magic is intriguing, it's not developed enough.

On the other hand, the romance is sweet and mired with conflict new and old, and there's a delightful secondary character taking on much of the space and undertaking a compelling arc, a young woman possibly on the asexual spectrum.

The Gentleman and his Vowsmith is a nice romance.

✨ 3.5 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: When They Burned the Butterfly, by Wen-yi Lee

 

Singapore, 1972: Newly independent, a city of immigrants grappling for power in a fast-modernizing world. Here, gangsters are the last conduits of the gods their ancestors brought with them, and the back alleys where they fight are the last place where magic has not been assimilated and legislated away. Loner schoolgirl Adeline Siow has never needed more company than the flame she can summon at her fingertips. But when her mother dies in a house fire with a butterfly seared onto her skin and Adeline hunts down a girl she saw in a back-alley barfight—a girl with a butterfly tattoo–she discovers she’s far from alone.
Ang Tian is a Red Butterfly: one of a gang of girls who came from nothing, sworn to a fire goddess and empowered to wreak vengeance on the men that abuse and underestimate them. Adeline’s mother led a double life as their elusive patron, Madam Butterfly. Now that she’s dead, Adeline’s bloodline is the sole thing sustaining the goddess. Between her search for her mother’s killer and the gang’s succession crisis, Adeline becomes quickly entangled with the girls’ dangerous world, and even more so with the charismatic Tian. But no home lasts long around here. 

"Transformation was artistry until it was put upon you." 

Wen-yi Lee's When They Burned the Butterfly is a surprisingly mature YA historical fantasy that details a gang war, doubling down as a blood-filled sapphic coming of age story and a love letter to the city of Singapore. The main character is a grief-stricken girl burning with rage and with the willpower to settle into a role and take on the reins, and it's refreshing to read about such an unlikable, sympathetic, competent character.

Taking inspiration from a real Singaporean women's gang in the Sixties, the author weaves a tale of sisterhood and the divine, grief and revenge, a tale about finding love and acceptance and letting it go, brimming with violence and tenderness and the jealousy of gods. It's a brutal novel, especially towards the end, and I hesitate to truly call it YA.

The worldbuilding is rich and complex, showing the many faces of Singapore and its postcolonial struggle as people scramble for power and meaning, drawing from old gods of the mainland. The gods, especially the titular Butterfly, are front and center, despite the more subdued beginning.

The characters are perhaps where the book falls a bit short, with so many and so different and so little focus on them, save for the love interest. 

When They Burned the Butterfly is a rage-filled epic.

✨ 4 stars

Review: Six Wild Crowns, by Holly Race

 

The king has been appointed by god to marry six queens. Those six queens are all that stand between the kingdom of Elben and ruin. Or so we have been told.
Each queen vies for attention. Clever, ambitious Boleyn is determined to be Henry's favourite. And if she must incite a war to win Henry over? So be it. Seymour acts as spy and assassin in a court teeming with dragons, backstabbing courtiers and strange magic. But when she and Boleyn become the unlikeliest of things - allies - the balance of power begins to shift. Together they will discover an ancient, rotting magic at Elben's heart. A magic that their king will do anything to protect.

"The smallest amount of hope is more precious than none at all." 

Holly Race's Six Wild Crowns is an extraordinary take on the story of Henry VIII and his six wives, filled with sapphic yearning. Drawing from history, the author creates a fantasy tale where an England-inspired island is led by a king who has to take six wives in order to keep up a magical shield that protects the realm. Things, of course, are not as they seem and we follow two women, Boleyn and Seymour, as they contend with secrets that might destroy everything and with the reality of being married to a mercurial king.

The two wives couldn't be more different: Boleyn is ambitious and truly loves the monster; Seymour just wants to survive. Over the course of the book, they change and grow organically. Readers who expect a happy ending should however be cautioned, as this novel is more akin to a Shakespearan tragedy than a modern romantasy. In fact, the sapphic yearning is mostly that, and mostly one-sided; and while the bisexual Boleyn is shown to reciprocate some of the affection, this is a larger tale about living in a men's world and standing up in sisterhood.

The blurb is a little misleading; there's little spycraft and court intrigue, and the dragons are not what we are used to. It's mostly a character-driven tale, although there's some twists and turns that move the plot into uncharted territory. The gorgeous prose makes up for a worldbuilding that is, maybe, not as innovative as it could have been, but that still works perfectly for the purposes of this book. The core cast is painted vividly: we meet the other wives, of course, each of them with her own goals, and Henry is a cumbersome character.

Six Wild Crowns is a fantastic first installment.

✨ 5 stars

 

Snippet: The Wolf and His King, by Finn Longman

The wolf-sickness strikes always without warning, stealing Bisclavret’s body and confusing his mind. Since boyhood he hasn’t dared leave his isolated holdings—not to beg the return of his father’s lost estate, not to seek brotherhood among the court, not even to win the knighthood he yearns for. But when a new king ascends, Bisclavret must deliver his kiss of fealty or answer for the failure.
Half an exile himself, the young king is intrigued by this uneasy, rough-hewn nobleman. Bisclavret seems a perfect knight: bold, strong, and merciful. But he keeps his secrets close, and the king’s longings are not for counsel alone. As his fascination grows, the barriers between them multiply, until the king battles desperation and grief. Then Bisclavret vanishes beyond reach, just as the greatest threats to the kingdom converge. Only duty to his people stands between the king and ruin—duty, and the steady loyalty of the strangest wolf.

"Always I am tired of running."

Finn Longman's The Wolf and His King is the achillean retelling of a medieval tale about a werewolf at court, teeming with yearning and courtly love and fealty in spades. The gorgeous writing, very atmospheric, gives the reader the impression of reading an old lai. The author experiments with PoVs, weaving an incredible tapestry of second and third person, and writing in verse from the perspective of the Wolf. No character is named, save for Bisclavret, giving a feeling of both deep disconnect and great immersion. The nameless king, the wife, the cousin, the knight in green: everyone's a reflection of the role they take in the old tale, but also vivid characters of their own. We feel deeply the King's yearning for Bisclavret, and the latter's turmoil. This isn't a novel in the truest sense, more of a joyful reclamation.

✨ 5 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: When the Tides Held the Moon, by Venessa Vida Kelley

Benigno “Benny” Caldera knows an orphaned Boricua blacksmith in 1910s New York City can’t call himself an artist. But the ironwork tank he creates for famed Coney Island playground, Luna Park, astounds the eccentric sideshow proprietor who commissioned it. He invites Benny to join the show’s eclectic cast and share in their shocking secret: the tank will cage their newest exhibit, a live merman stolen from the salty banks of the East River.
More than a mythic marvel, Benny soon comes to know the merman Río as a kindred spirit, wise and more compassionate than any human he’s ever met. Despite their different worlds, what begins as a friendship of necessity deepens to love, leading Benny’s heart into uncharted waters where he can no longer ignore the agonizing truth of Río’s captivity—and his own.

"Ain't no being free on the outside if you ain't free on the inside." 

Venessa Vida Kelley's When the Tides Held the Moon is a gorgeous historical achillean romantasy, featuring a merman in captivity and the orphan tasked to build him a cage. This lovely standalone deals with issues of self-discovery and oppression while portraying a tender love story and exploring with care the life of the so-called circus “freaks” of the time. The author's beautiful illustrations enrich the experience.

We stay mostly with Benigno's PoV, though Río gets a few very short chapters told in a lyrical voice. Theirs is a story of fierce resilience and terrible loneliness, but they'll find comfort in each other and, perhaps, in the large and rather queer found family of the circus. The cast is varied and well-developed, although the main villain feels a bit cartoony, and their struggles feel real and important. The author clearly did her research, and it shows.

Mermaids lore is expanded with intriguing beats; the writing is very down-to-earth, peppered with many idioms and colloquialisms from languages other than English. Comprehension is helped by a helpful glossary at the end of the book. The novel is perfectly self-contained thanks to its bittersweet ending, although some steps seem to be missing. It's still a beautiful tale.

When the Tides Held the Moon is a gorgeous reflection.

✨ 4.5 stars

 

Review: Lady Dragon, by A.M. Strickland

 

Samansa and Kirek are two new leaders coming of age in war-scarred lands—Samansa a reluctant human princess and Kirek the favored contender for the draconic queenship. Per tradition, Kirek must undergo the distasteful task of using a mysterious gem called the Heartstone to shift into human form and maintain the strained ties between the species . . . and study human weaknesses, a new and secret task she’s been given by her queen. As the princess and the dragon girl grow closer, they are sent to investigate a potential breach of the treaty and encounter a plot that could reignite an even bloodier war. While fighting to maintain the peace their ancestors fought for and uncovering centuries-old secrets, Samansa and Kirek must grapple with betraying their clashing nations . . . or their unexpected feelings for each other.

"We are not an abomination. We are a marvel." 

A.M. Strickland's Lady Dragon is a YA sapphic romantasy with shifter dragons; a standalone adventure with tightly woven plot, it deals with issues of gender expectation and betrayal. The romance, while sweet and all-encompassing, is quite rushed, but the twists and turns make up for it somewhat, and the worldbuilding shines, especially in the sections dealing with dragons. The author doesn't shy away from making a complex and alien society, with its rules and customs.

The political subplot doesn't shine for its originality, but it does surprise in the ruthlessness of its actors and the resolution.

Lady Dragon is a nice palate cleanser.

✨ 3.5 stars

Snippet: A Drop of Corruption, by Robert Jackson Bennett

In the canton of Yarrowdale, at the very edge of the Empire’s reach, an impossible crime has occurred. A Treasury officer has disappeared into thin air—abducted from his quarters while the door and windows remained locked from the inside, in a building whose entrances and exits are all under constant guard. To solve the case, the Empire calls on its most brilliant and mercurial investigator, the great Ana Dolabra. At her side, as always, is her bemused assistant Dinios Kol.
Before long, Ana’s discovered that they’re not investigating a disappearance, but a murder—and that the killing was just the first chess move by an adversary who seems to be able to pass through warded doors like a ghost, and who can predict every one of Ana’s moves as though they can see the future. Din has seen Ana solve impossible cases before. But this time, with the stakes higher than ever and Ana seemingly a step behind their adversary at every turn, he fears that his superior has finally met an enemy she can’t defeat.

"Duty is thankless, invisible, Forgettable—but oh, so very necessary."

Robert Jackson Bennett's A Drop of Corruption is the highly entertaining sequel to the excellent Tainted Cup (you can read HERE my review), a glorious murder mystery following bisexual disaster Din as he assists the investigations of a brilliant and eerie Imperial detective; but it's also a deft criticism of autocracy. The worldbuilding is, as always with this author, a definite highlight, imaginative and strange, all described tersely and perfectly, with some imagery that's not for the queasy. This gorgeous mystery keeps the reader on their toes, struggling to catch up as revelations abound. One could spend hours lost in this series, in the company of these perfect Sherlock- and Watson-types; let's hope it's not going to be a trilogy, but feature more books.

✨ 4.5 stars

 

Review: As Many Souls As Stars, by Natasha Siegel

1592. Cybil Harding is a First Daughter. Cursed to bring disaster to those around her, she is trapped in a house with a mother paralyzed by grief and a father willing to sacrifice everything in pursuit of magic. Miriam Richter is a creature of shadow. Forged by the dark arts many years ago, she is doomed to exist for eternity and destined to be alone—killing mortals and consuming their souls for sustenance. Everything changes when she meets Cybil, whose soul shines with a light so bright, she must claim it for herself. She offers a bargain: she will grant Cybil reincarnation in exchange for her soul. Thus begins a dance across centuries as Miriam seeks Cybil in every lifetime to claim her prize. Cybil isn’t inclined to play by the rules, but when it becomes clear that Miriam holds the key to breaking her family curse, Cybil finds that—for the first time in her many lives—she might have the upper hand. As they circle each other, drawn together inescapably as light and dark, the bond forged between them grows stronger. In their battle for dominance, only one of them can win—but perhaps they can’t survive without each other.

"So come once again and love me." 

Natasha Siegel's As Many Souls as Stars is a stunning tale of cat and mouse, a sapphic Faustian bargain that spans centuries and three lives as reincarnation makes the chase last longer and cut deeper. Profoundly vicious and filled with hate-driven longing, this gorgeous novel pulls no punches as it asks, perhaps, what it means to be human.

The atmospheric writing lulls the reader as it depicts the many trials of women's lives in the Sixteenth and Eighteenth Century and the more supernatural threat of an obsessed being that thrives on deals. Miriam is a passionate, dangerous antagonist and love interest, her smile a sharp knife and her love perfectly toxic. Cybil handles herself well against such a foe, her intellect razor sharp and her planning careful. Theirs is a dance that can have no other ending, working perfectly.

The novel falls maybe a little short in the pacing, spending little time establishing Cybil's reincarnations, and casting unanswered questions over the workings of the process in the third act. But the gorgeously gothic atmosphere makes up for these stumbles, creating a perfectly contained novel.

As Many Souls as Stars is a lush treat.

✨ 4 stars

Review: Aurethia Rising, by Atlas Laika

 

Elio Henly has been preparing for marriage his entire life. As the Henly heir and future steward of Aurethia, he will inherit great power, including control of a lucrative trade route, and ownership of the most precious substance in the Greater Universe — Avara. The mysterious blue crystal native to Aurethia is the sole treatment for parsec sickness, an epidemic ravaging space travelers within the Greater Universe. But when he meets Cael Volkov, the charming heir of the outfitted military planet, Griea, everything he thought he knew about his homeworld, his family, and his heart is turned upside down.  Cael Volkov has been raised to conquer. Champion in the Tupinaire, commander of the Royal Reserve, and son to the mighty Legatus, Cael knows his mission is gain the Aurethian heir’s trust, learn everything he can about the forest moon, and prepare to take it by force. But the longer he spends with Elio Henly, the quiet, brilliant Aurethian prince, the more he questions everything he was taught, and begins to push back against the rhetoric seeded in him by a lust for vengeance.

"How does one undo a lifetime of inequity?" 

Atlas Laika's Aurethia Rising is a queer sci-fi romance that works perfectly as a standalone, but it's actually first in a series that promises to be explosive. Teeming with political maneuvers and betrayal, this stunning space opera takes more than a little inspiration from Dune to show a political marriage between rival Houses and the powerful love that can be born even in the direst circumstances, while reflecting on greed and capitalism.

Elio and Cael are exquisitely explored, and their courtship is a slow affair whose ending feels inevitable. They're a byproduct of their environment; Elio is painfully naive to the realities of commerce, his family the only one that can provide a substance coveted by the rest of the universe, and Cael was bred and trained for the sole purpose of taking back much needed resources, his whole people confined to a harsh homeland. Yet, they persevere, facing harsh betrayals and a seismic truth. The last PoV character is Cael's cousin, a harsh warrior and a tragic, hateful character. Of the rest of the cast, Elio's sister shines with her strength of will and her ferocious loyalty.

The powerful worldbuilding immerses the reader in a big universe, conquered by Earth's descendants, with a confederation made of many powerful Houses ruling planets and moons; but there's also a hint of otherness, the sense that humans aren't alone. The titular Aurethia is a stunning place, and the lush prose paints everything in vivid, colorful strokes, composing a beautiful symphony.

Aurethia Rising is a gorgeous journey.

✨ 4.5 stars

 

Review: The Isle in the Silver Sea, by Tasha Suri

 

In a Britain fuelled by stories, the knight and the witch are fated to fall in love and doom each other over and over, the same tale retold over hundreds of lifetimes. Simran is a witch of the woods. Vina is a knight of the Queen's court. When the two women begin to fall for each other, how can they surrender to their desires, when to give in is to destroy each other?

As they seek a way to break the cycle, a mysterious assassin begins targeting tales like theirs. To survive, the two will need to write a story stronger than the one that fate has given to them. But what tale is stronger than The Knight and the Witch? 

"I’d rather break the world to fit you." 

Tasha Suri's The Isle in the Silver Sea is an atmospheric tale about the importance of stories, also taking a firm stance against colonialism and monarchy and the erasure of diversity. This gorgeous sapphic standalone vividly paints an out-of-time Great Britain completely disconnected from the rest of the world, taking away the memories of whover comes to live there from over the sea. It's a powerful reflection on connection, racism, and revolution, and a compelling tale of reincarnation.

Incarnates are archetypes, but they're also complex characters with needs and wants and the desire to break free. Drawing on many known English tales and even Arthurian legend, Tasha Suri weaves a stunning tapestry of interconnected fates and creates a beatiful reflection on predestination and the choices we can make. Simran and Vina are fated to love each other and die for each other, but theirs is finally a choice to fight for each other and for freedom. The glimpes of past lives make this story greater, showing the magnitude of these unnatural cycles and their effect on the island.

The world-building is perfectly sculpted by the lush prose, detailling a kingdom that's stuck in the past and refuses to recognize change as a good thing. The supporting cast shines, especially the assassin's tragic figure. The pacing stumbles a bit in the second part, but it leads to a perfect finale.

The Isle in the Silver Sea is another masterpiece from a great author.

✨ 4.5 stars

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

 

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