Meeting your in-laws for the first time is always a nerve-wracking event.
Toby and his son, Luca, are headed to Texas with Toby’s wife, a pediatricianMeeting your in-laws for the first time is always a nerve-wracking event.
Toby and his son, Luca, are headed to Texas with Toby’s wife, a pediatrician and heiress named Alyssa. Alyssa has given Toby every reassurance she can muster about her family, because Luca is starting to show signs of being queer and Toby doesn’t want him around bigots; and, well, Alyssa’s grandfather is a famous televangelist. Alyssa tells him her family is too rich to be bigoted. Well, you can see how well this is going to go.
I liked the idea of this book much more than I liked the book itself. I liked the individual story components more than the whole. I liked the tropes, but not how they were assembled. Does that all make sense? It was like the ingredients were all there but the measurements were wrong and it was baked wrong.
For one, it was baked too long. This book was too long by far. The third act of a thriller should be where you kick it up a notch, but I honestly thought the third act was the slowest of the entire book. I kept saying, “We’re not done yet?”
Second, the repetitiveness. By the end of the second act my eyes were starting to glaze over every time I read the term “mind palace”.
Third, the ending. I’m sorry, but I can’t vibe with the ending. It wasn’t good.
I am going to list off a few TWs for you: incest, “wilderness” camp, homophobia, internalized homophobia, transphobia, CSA, suicide. Those are the big ones.
In the end, it was a very average novel that was well-written for the most part but just didn’t vibe as a whole.
I was provided with a copy of this title by Netgalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Since this review is rated three stars or lower it will not be appearing on my social media. Thank you.
There is a difference between envy and jealousy. People seem to forget that sometimes. Jealousy is a secondary emotion borne of fear or anger. Envy isThere is a difference between envy and jealousy. People seem to forget that sometimes. Jealousy is a secondary emotion borne of fear or anger. Envy is when you’re aware that you resent that someone else has something you covet. Most of the time, envy is a subtle thing. Like, “Oh man, I really like those shoes! Those are much better black heels than mine!” Other times, however, envy can grow into something painful and blistering hot. Envy can make people murderous.
In Rouge, we have an envy pas de deux: a mother and daughter who sadly can’t keep away from the toxicity of envy between one another. A daughter who feels so different from her mother due her darker skin color (from her Egyptian father) and dark hair when her mother has red hair, blue eyes, and luminously pale skin. A mother who feels envious of her daughter’s skin because she believes it will age so much better than hers will. A daughter who’s envious of all the men who parade through her mother’s life and take up all the time, love, and affection her mother could be giving her. A mother who’s become so narcissistic she is oblivious to the wide rift she’s created between her and her daughter, how toxic it’s become, and how she’s unwittingly left it so open to dangerous influences.
The sharply funny, barbed satire prose passages lambasting the skin care industry were some of my favorite passages in this book. I just couldn’t keep from smirking at the laundry list of products, even if I’m guilty of using a night cream that does indeed have snail slime in it myself. What was tragic about Belle’s (our main character’s) hyper-vigilant use of these expensive products in a ritualized manner was how she thought she needed to do all this to look more like her mother. She grew up thinking her mother was perfection and she was obsessed with trying to reach it, even if her melanin-rich skin wasn’t meant for it.
The rest of the book, the cult-ish/secret society part of the whole story, was written so impeccably I just don’t know how words could describe it very well. It was all vibes and atmosphere. It had the rich darkness of gothic fiction, the fantastical elements of urban fantasy, the creepy eeriness of occult fiction, the gore and shock of supernatural horror, and the overall lovely, elegant swoop of literary fiction. The whole thing is simply covered in beauty, lust, envy, blood, pain, and grief. I loved every page.
I was provided a copy of this book by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
File Under: 5 Star Review/Cult Fiction/Dark Comedy/Gothic/Literary Fiction/Occult Fiction/Psychological Fiction/Satire/Secret Society/Supernatural Horror/Urban Fantasy
Merged review:
There is a difference between envy and jealousy. People seem to forget that sometimes. Jealousy is a secondary emotion borne of fear or anger. Envy is when you’re aware that you resent that someone else has something you covet. Most of the time, envy is a subtle thing. Like, “Oh man, I really like those shoes! Those are much better black heels than mine!” Other times, however, envy can grow into something painful and blistering hot. Envy can make people murderous.
In Rouge, we have an envy pas de deux: a mother and daughter who sadly can’t keep away from the toxicity of envy between one another. A daughter who feels so different from her mother due her darker skin color (from her Egyptian father) and dark hair when her mother has red hair, blue eyes, and luminously pale skin. A mother who feels envious of her daughter’s skin because she believes it will age so much better than hers will. A daughter who’s envious of all the men who parade through her mother’s life and take up all the time, love, and affection her mother could be giving her. A mother who’s become so narcissistic she is oblivious to the wide rift she’s created between her and her daughter, how toxic it’s become, and how she’s unwittingly left it so open to dangerous influences.
The sharply funny, barbed satire prose passages lambasting the skin care industry were some of my favorite passages in this book. I just couldn’t keep from smirking at the laundry list of products, even if I’m guilty of using a night cream that does indeed have snail slime in it myself. What was tragic about Belle’s (our main character’s) hyper-vigilant use of these expensive products in a ritualized manner was how she thought she needed to do all this to look more like her mother. She grew up thinking her mother was perfection and she was obsessed with trying to reach it, even if her melanin-rich skin wasn’t meant for it.
The rest of the book, the cult-ish/secret society part of the whole story, was written so impeccably I just don’t know how words could describe it very well. It was all vibes and atmosphere. It had the rich darkness of gothic fiction, the fantastical elements of urban fantasy, the creepy eeriness of occult fiction, the gore and shock of supernatural horror, and the overall lovely, elegant swoop of literary fiction. The whole thing is simply covered in beauty, lust, envy, blood, pain, and grief. I loved every page.
I was provided a copy of this book by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
File Under: 5 Star Review/Cult Fiction/Dark Comedy/Gothic/Literary Fiction/Occult Fiction/Psychological Fiction/Satire/Secret Society/Supernatural Horror/Urban Fantasy
Merged review:
There is a difference between envy and jealousy. People seem to forget that sometimes. Jealousy is a secondary emotion borne of fear or anger. Envy is when you’re aware that you resent that someone else has something you covet. Most of the time, envy is a subtle thing. Like, “Oh man, I really like those shoes! Those are much better black heels than mine!” Other times, however, envy can grow into something painful and blistering hot. Envy can make people murderous.
In Rouge, we have an envy pas de deux: a mother and daughter who sadly can’t keep away from the toxicity of envy between one another. A daughter who feels so different from her mother due her darker skin color (from her Egyptian father) and dark hair when her mother has red hair, blue eyes, and luminously pale skin. A mother who feels envious of her daughter’s skin because she believes it will age so much better than hers will. A daughter who’s envious of all the men who parade through her mother’s life and take up all the time, love, and affection her mother could be giving her. A mother who’s become so narcissistic she is oblivious to the wide rift she’s created between her and her daughter, how toxic it’s become, and how she’s unwittingly left it so open to dangerous influences.
The sharply funny, barbed satire prose passages lambasting the skin care industry were some of my favorite passages in this book. I just couldn’t keep from smirking at the laundry list of products, even if I’m guilty of using a night cream that does indeed have snail slime in it myself. What was tragic about Belle’s (our main character’s) hyper-vigilant use of these expensive products in a ritualized manner was how she thought she needed to do all this to look more like her mother. She grew up thinking her mother was perfection and she was obsessed with trying to reach it, even if her melanin-rich skin wasn’t meant for it.
The rest of the book, the cult-ish/secret society part of the whole story, was written so impeccably I just don’t know how words could describe it very well. It was all vibes and atmosphere. It had the rich darkness of gothic fiction, the fantastical elements of urban fantasy, the creepy eeriness of occult fiction, the gore and shock of supernatural horror, and the overall lovely, elegant swoop of literary fiction. The whole thing is simply covered in beauty, lust, envy, blood, pain, and grief. I loved every page.
I was provided a copy of this book by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
There’s slow burn, and then there’s just a book that never catches light.
The Monstrous Kind doesn’t lack for atmosphere or aesthetics, believe me. ItThere’s slow burn, and then there’s just a book that never catches light.
The Monstrous Kind doesn’t lack for atmosphere or aesthetics, believe me. It also doesn’t lack a sense of romance or chemistry between characters. The dialogue is actually the best part of the novel, which is nice when dialogue tends to be a problem in some other gothic fantasy novels.
None of these positives can make up for the host of negatives that this novel is composed of, however. From its slow, predictable, and writ beginning that failed to engage me, to the absolute cookie-cutter trope-ish characters, to the painfully apparent foreshadowing and false leads, and scenes that were obviously filler and could have easily been cut to help the dreadful pacing of the story, this book just never took off. I can honestly say I didn’t even become halfway interested in how the story might end until almost 60% of the way through, and by then I had already guessed how everything went together. I just wanted to see how they were going to assemble it all at the end.
Even there I was disappointed.
I can’t recommend this book. I just think it’s a lackluster example of gothic fantasy in a world where there are thousands of gothic fantasies that outshine it by far.
This was a lovely, if terribly sad, book. Even with how sad it is, I found it almost impossible to put down because the writing is just so elegant andThis was a lovely, if terribly sad, book. Even with how sad it is, I found it almost impossible to put down because the writing is just so elegant and the story is engrossing.
It’s interesting how sometimes the same old story can captivate you just being packaged in a slightly different way. Here, Morgan takes a basic plot we’ve definitely seen before: two women who are both running from their own kinds of ghosts and end up fighting them together in some sort of way, and keeps one woman’s ghosts mundane and turns the other woman’s ghosts supernatural. I also found myself surprised to be as invested in the story as I was, given I knew what was coming most of the time and knew most of what was going to happen in this book. Did I know it all? No. But I knew enough that there were few surprises. Usually, this would make me whine and moan, but I kept on being just as invested as I was from the beginning. I think that may have been because the writing was just that good and because I cared about the characters that much.
Two things that I loved so much about this book: One, the time period this book is set in. I love a good historical fantasy setting, and books set in the late 1960’s are some of my favorites. It was a time of so much social, political, and religious upheaval. It makes for excellent storytelling fodder. The second thing is the geographical setting of this book. The isolated, gothic-like setting of a very isolated island somewhere (I’m guessing from the text) in Puget Sound made not only for picturesque passages full of evocative imagery, but it also matched the mood of our protagonists and gave the story the supernatural feeling of liminal space that I found to be essential to the story being told.
There’s this ribbon woven through the text of this story about the spirit world and whether or not it’s tied to religion and faith or not, or whether it matters at all. Is it a gift or a curse? Burden or blessing? This question goes unanswered and I believe that’s the moral of the story. It’s all in what you carry with you.
I recommend this for fans of elegant prose, books about women fighting back without violence, books about unlikely and fast female friendships, and fans of 1960’s historical fantasy.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. This review was written without compensation.
I should begin by saying I might be a bit biased because Ava Reid is one of my auto-buy authors. I love everything she has written so far, and I lovedI should begin by saying I might be a bit biased because Ava Reid is one of my auto-buy authors. I love everything she has written so far, and I loved A Study in Drowning, too, even if my love for it is more complicated than the love I feel for, say, Juniper & Thorn.
I’ve seen numerous reviews from people who’ve said this book gives them all the “fall feelings”. Well, then I feel sorry for what you think fall is, because this book made me feel incredibly sad, heavy, and emotional. I felt as weighed down as all of Hireath (the Myrrdin family home mentioned in the book’s blurb) feels in all its waterlogged sorrow. (Interestingly enough, I know the word Hireath from its Welsh origins, and while there is no direct English translation, to the Welsh, it’s a feelings that mixes longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness or an earnest desire for what–or how–something used to be).
Wales plays more than one part in this story, as Emrys Myrddin was the name of Merlin, King Arthur’s court magician, in the oldest known Welsh texts. Sadly, in those old texts, Merlin was just as atrocious a figure as Emrys is in this book, in the worst of ways. Also, notably, A woman named Angharad James was quite a notable poet in Wales from the mid 17th to mid 18th century. Both her son and husband died before her, and she wrote a beautiful elegy for her son. The manuscript survived and you can find it online.
I think my complicated feelings with this book begin with how much I identify with Effy, our female protagonist. It’s in her struggles to be taken seriously in academia, her mental illness issues, and her trauma. (BTW, here is a good place to suggest that you look up a list of TW/CWs before you read this book, if you’re the type of person who wants to know what they’re getting into before they start a darker book). For Effy, books have been her only friends and her only escape for her whole life, and I feel that sentiment in my bones. Books never leave like people do. Books never die. Books never physically harm you. Books are reliable, a portal out of here. And Effy, well, Effy has needed something to rely on her whole life because she’s had no one else to rely on. The only problem is she ended up relying on a single book to hold onto everything for her.
This book has a lot to say about misogyny, r@pe culture, victim blaming, grooming, the theft of women’s intellectual property for the sake of putting a man’s name on the work, prejudice against women in academia, philosophies behind what you believe and what you know, unwanted children, folklore, mythology, the younger generation changing the power structures, and more.
But what I find I enjoy more than anything when I read an Ava Reid book is the writing itself. The prose. The atmosphere. The imagery. The sentence structure. The way you can almost smell the sea, feel the ocean spray, shiver in the cold, smell the damp, feel the wood flooring bow beneath your feet, see the termite holes in the baseboards. Her books are immersive and evocative. You can feel the heavy doors and freezing water. You can see the trees flying through the air and the curving roads. And this is why I can’t help but love Ava Reid: her writing, just pure and undiluted, is magical all on its own.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
File Under: 5 Star Review/College Romance/Dark Academia/Dark Fantasy/Disability Rep/Romantasy/Gothic/Standalone Novel/Spice Level 1/Women’s Fiction/YA Fantasy/YA Fantasy Romance
Merged review:
I should begin by saying I might be a bit biased because Ava Reid is one of my auto-buy authors. I love everything she has written so far, and I loved A Study in Drowning, too, even if my love for it is more complicated than the love I feel for, say, Juniper & Thorn.
I’ve seen numerous reviews from people who’ve said this book gives them all the “fall feelings”. Well, then I feel sorry for what you think fall is, because this book made me feel incredibly sad, heavy, and emotional. I felt as weighed down as all of Hireath (the Myrrdin family home mentioned in the book’s blurb) feels in all its waterlogged sorrow. (Interestingly enough, I know the word Hireath from its Welsh origins, and while there is no direct English translation, to the Welsh, it’s a feelings that mixes longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness or an earnest desire for what–or how–something used to be).
Wales plays more than one part in this story, as Emrys Myrddin was the name of Merlin, King Arthur’s court magician, in the oldest known Welsh texts. Sadly, in those old texts, Merlin was just as atrocious a figure as Emrys is in this book, in the worst of ways. Also, notably, A woman named Angharad James was quite a notable poet in Wales from the mid 17th to mid 18th century. Both her son and husband died before her, and she wrote a beautiful elegy for her son. The manuscript survived and you can find it online.
I think my complicated feelings with this book begin with how much I identify with Effy, our female protagonist. It’s in her struggles to be taken seriously in academia, her mental illness issues, and her trauma. (BTW, here is a good place to suggest that you look up a list of TW/CWs before you read this book, if you’re the type of person who wants to know what they’re getting into before they start a darker book). For Effy, books have been her only friends and her only escape for her whole life, and I feel that sentiment in my bones. Books never leave like people do. Books never die. Books never physically harm you. Books are reliable, a portal out of here. And Effy, well, Effy has needed something to rely on her whole life because she’s had no one else to rely on. The only problem is she ended up relying on a single book to hold onto everything for her.
This book has a lot to say about misogyny, r@pe culture, victim blaming, grooming, the theft of women’s intellectual property for the sake of putting a man’s name on the work, prejudice against women in academia, philosophies behind what you believe and what you know, unwanted children, folklore, mythology, the younger generation changing the power structures, and more.
But what I find I enjoy more than anything when I read an Ava Reid book is the writing itself. The prose. The atmosphere. The imagery. The sentence structure. The way you can almost smell the sea, feel the ocean spray, shiver in the cold, smell the damp, feel the wood flooring bow beneath your feet, see the termite holes in the baseboards. Her books are immersive and evocative. You can feel the heavy doors and freezing water. You can see the trees flying through the air and the curving roads. And this is why I can’t help but love Ava Reid: her writing, just pure and undiluted, is magical all on its own.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
File Under: 5 Star Review/College Romance/Dark Academia/Dark Fantasy/Disability Rep/Romantasy/Gothic/Standalone Novel/Spice Level 1/Women’s Fiction/YA Fantasy/YA Fantasy Romance...more
Dark academia, to me, are those books set in a collegiate atmosphere (they don’t even have to necessarily be set in a cGothic dark academia heck yeah!
Dark academia, to me, are those books set in a collegiate atmosphere (they don’t even have to necessarily be set in a college, but the atmosphere needs to be collegiate in nature) where the plot of the book is centered around the darker and more predatory aspects of academia: publish or perish, predatory lending practices, racism, secret societies, homophobia, corrupt officials, and so on. All That Consumes Us is gothic in nature due to the isolated setting of not only the liberal arts college it takes place in (fictional Corbin College), but also because the secret society at the heart of the plot, Magni Viri, lives in an isolated Victorian dorm building on the oldest and most isolated reaches of the campus. The students of Magni Viri really are set above and apart from the rest in more ways than one.
As for the dark academia aspect of the book, the dark and predatory side of college here is in how each student of Magna Viri is recruited: They all have dreams, skill, and ambition, but they need a little more push to get them to the top. Magna Viri dangles a carrot in their faces and usually warns them that there will be a stick. They just don’t know how hard that stick will whack them until it’s too late. By then, they’re stuck. The director of Magna Viri dangled the carrot in front of Tara, our protagonist, but never bothered to tell her about the stick. Telling you anything more than that would make this review spoileriffic.
This is an enjoyable book, and a great fall read. I loved the creepy, New England vibe to the book. Did it feel like a college book? Not really. Did it feel like Waters was trying to drive the dark academia vibe down my throat? Yes. Did I need The Secret History mentioned so many times in one book? No. Did I enjoy the plot itself? Yes.
I’m going to go ahead and recommend it because it was fun and I liked the way the plot was approached, even though I felt it was a little immature in its approach. It’s also well-trodden territory. But it was a tasty treat anyway.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
My Darling, Dreadful Thing (hereafter referred to as MDDT in this review) is an absolutely lovely, dark, and haunting piece of gothic fiction with delMy Darling, Dreadful Thing (hereafter referred to as MDDT in this review) is an absolutely lovely, dark, and haunting piece of gothic fiction with delicious hidden pockets of horrid secrets tucked away like terrible treats right up until the end.
We’re in the Netherlands and it’s the 1950s (probably early 1950s). Our protagonist is Roos, who is being examined by a psychiatrist (sadly, a Freudian) to ascertain whether or not she’s mentally responsible for the death of her employer, a Mrs. Agnes Knoop.
Roos is of the opinion that she both is and isn’t. It’s a long story, and it starts when she’s only about five years old and her mother traps her for interminable hours underneath the floorboards of the house in order to better play a fake spirit medium.
MDDT is told in two timelines, with two formats: One is the main story, told from Roos’ first-person POV, and the other is in the format of interviews the psychiatrist has with Roos in order to evaluate her mental state. This format can be hard to nail, but I thought van Veen did an absolutely fantastic job showing both sides of the coin. The psychiatrist comes across as understandably and realistically skeptical, and even though he’s a Freudian thinker (yuck), he never comes across as vulgar. He also does also seem to be truly interested in understanding Roos instead of exploiting her.
The main story, Roos’ story, is the stuff gothic fiction dreams are made of. A cruel mother, a childhood full of suffering, and a rescue from that wretched existence by a rich and lovely widow who brings Roos to her estate ostensibly just because she they are so similar and she couldn’t stand to see Roos suffer in those conditions. However, in every gothic novel there must be a Manderley or Thornfield, and Rozentuin is the setting for where everything goes wrong in this book, because Rozentuin is where all those horrid secrets have been tucked away and left to fester. With Roos, Agnes, their respective spirit companions, and Agnes’ slowly-dying sister-in-law all inside this old house with all their combined secrets and personal ghosts it’s not too long until things start to go terribly wrong.
It was really a terrific book and satisfied every need I have when it comes to gothic fiction. I definitely recommend it.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
…And the reward for the longest novel I devoured in record time this month (that wasn’t a spicy romance) goes to The Witchwood Knot, which is my first…And the reward for the longest novel I devoured in record time this month (that wasn’t a spicy romance) goes to The Witchwood Knot, which is my first Olivia Atwater book and certainly won’t be my last because it simply hit every single one of my cozy gothic fairy tale buttons while maintaining a certain sense of style and panache that you don’t see too often when it comes to the cozier tales. That flair sets this story apart from so many cozier gothics that can often cause me to drift off in the second act. Not this book. This book kept me captivated from the start.
(Note please that there is an author’s note at the beginning of this book regarding TW/CW when it comes to sexual harassment of both woman and child. Take care of you.)
This book simply wouldn’t work without our FMC, Winifred, exactly as she is. She’s a terrific female protagonist, made just the way I like them: full of spite. Let’s just say I identify. She’s also intelligent, cunning, deceitful, and careful. I absolutely love her. She’s had to learn some hard lessons, both mundane and arcane, to get where she is today, and that makes her unique. Her unique outlook on life and on everything faerie is the framework for everything we readers see and understand of this story for a good long while, so it’s marvelous that she’s as intriguing and engaging as she is.
Likewise, the flip-side of Winifred is our MMC, Mr. Quincy, the mysterious and vexing “butler” of Witchwood Manor. He’s everything Winifred is, save he’s full of frustration and anger instead of spite. He’s trapped within Witchwood Manor, bound to an oath he can’t undo, and is almost as alone as is possible. He hides behind cruelty and illusions, but is filled with fear.
Atwater has an unmistakably lovely way with charming, lovely prose and with the elegant and polite dialogue of the Victorian period. Reading the dialogue exchanges between Winifred and Mr. Quincy are like an amped-up version of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, if Elizabeth carried a knife with her at all times and Darcy were willing to turn her own fears on her. When they aren’t exchanging witty repartee and they drop the social mores, these two melt so deliciously it’s like milk chocolate.
I love Atwater’s use of faerie lore. It’s amazing. Most of it is well known, but it’s the little stuff that means so much, you know? Like how important the number three is to faeries. How the scent of bayberry is associated with protection from evil (and that it’s easier to carry bayberry perfume while traveling than to carry candles of it). The way some believe mirrors are portals to the other side. It’s these touches that always impress me when it comes to worldbuilding. I love it when authors do their research and do it well. When it comes to historical fantasy, an author must do double duty by ensuring the historical and fantastical aspects both are accounted for and Atwater has done exactly that.
It’s a simply wonderful novel. I can’t recommend it enough.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. This review was written without compensation. Thank you.
File Under: 5 Star Review/Book Series/Dark Fantasy/Fairy Tale/Fantasy/Romantasy/Fantasy Series/Gothic Fiction/Historical Fantasy ...more
Dude, I’m an atheist, but all the main characters in this book totally could learn some lessons from Proverbs: Pride goeth before destruction, And an Dude, I’m an atheist, but all the main characters in this book totally could learn some lessons from Proverbs: Pride goeth before destruction, And an haughty spirit before a fall. Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, Than to divide the spoil with the proud.
These people are greedy to the point of avarice: filled with envy, lust, pride, privilege, and ambition. They won’t listen to warnings. They won’t listen to each other. They won’t even listen to their own instincts. They trod over grounds not their own and are surprised when things go wrong. Even when they are told to go, they stay. When things go awry and it’s clear they might be in danger, bruised egos refuse to give in.
One could say they were doomed from the start.
This is my huge problem with A Haunting on the Hill, and the sole reason I can’t rate this book five stars: I hate them all. I don’t hate them in that, “I love to hate you,” way. No. I just find them all either plain annoying or they just plain disgust me and I want to throw my Kindle at them. It’s hard to fully enjoy a horror novel when you can’t really find anything redeemable about your so-called protagonists.
Other than the characters, I found everything else about this novel to be spectacular: the ambience, the plot, the pacing, the world building, and the supporting characters. The fact the book seems like it was almost written like it hopes to be adapted for the big screen someday was a touch annoying, but I’ve seen that before and it wasn’t that huge of an issue.
One of the things I enjoyed the most in this book were the murder ballad excerpts. Can we talk about these? These lovely murder ballads? I was here for every single time a ballad came up in this book. They were my favorite part of the book. Not only did they add color and character to the plot of the book, but they added so much nuance to the book as a whole. An absolutely brilliant touch!
I’d say that if you can stand the characters, you’ll adore it. If you can’t stand the characters it’s still a totally worthwhile read.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. This review has been written freely, without any recompense. Thank you.
By the time I was 10% into this book I was seriously feeling sorry for Anna, the protagonist of this story, because if I had a family like hers I woulBy the time I was 10% into this book I was seriously feeling sorry for Anna, the protagonist of this story, because if I had a family like hers I would never voluntarily go on a trip to Italy with them (even if they were paying for the whole thing). I love my family and we’re very close, but we would be tested to travel to Europe together and even pretend to try and stay civil. The family in this book? Let’s say they’ve got denial down to an art. Wow.
By 45% I remembered a secret only stays a secret if you never tell anyone…and I wished Anna had a family with a scintilla of tact. I also realized Anna and I had a lot of things in common: Being used to taking the blame for the bad things that happen to our family, apologizing constantly to our family members for things that aren’t our fault, keeping our mouths shut when we want to say something because we know it’s either going to upset someone or no one’s going to believe us, and making sure to dumb ourselves down around our loved ones lest they accuse us of “acting smarter” than everyone else (or “showing off”).
AKA: Both Anna and I are the black sheep of our families.
This book is an absolute blast to read: Engaging, compelling, intriguing, intelligent, fierce, creepy, insightful, sometimes funny, and sometimes sad. It has lovely (in that haunting, bloody way) nightmare sequences, creepy daytime scenes inside the house that might be hard for those with squeamish stomachs, truly scary calls involving Anna’s family, and lots of fascinating Italian art history information that not only worked well into the story of the book but was also just plain cool to read. This book shines its brightest when it focuses on Anna, especially in the last 20% of the book, but also anywhere else in the book. All in all, it’s just a fantastic read.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
I’m among the few that didn’t really enjoy What Moves the Dead that much when it was released. I found it to be underwhelming when I reviewed it, but I’m among the few that didn’t really enjoy What Moves the Dead that much when it was released. I found it to be underwhelming when I reviewed it, but I like Kingfisher so much I decided to read the sequel anyway and I’m glad I did because I loved What Feasts at Night so much better than What Moves the Dead.
I think what threw me off with What Moves the Dead was the inevitable comparison with Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher. I just couldn’t let it go and I think that may have compromised my ability to enjoy that story. With What Feasts at Night, we’re removed from the Usher household and on a new journey with Alex Easton. There’s no prior story association for me to be hung up on and so I got to enjoy this story just as it’s presented.
What I loved the most about this book was the dry witticism of Alex Easton. Alex’s voice is strong and clear and so funny to me. I laughed so many times reading this book because my sense of humor is skewed much the same way. Alex is a genuine character and one I loved reading. I could read an entire novel in Alex’s voice, but if Kingfisher wants to keep writing novellas featuring Alex Easton in creepy gothic occult horrors then I’ll totally keep reading them just to laugh the way this book made me laugh.
It was lovely to see the esteemed Miss Potter and the besotted Angus again, as well as meeting new supporting characters that made for a colorful and entertaining cast.
The world building and story in this installment were so much more my speed this time around. Some nice moth core (it’s a thing) aesthetics, nightmare lore, superstitions, folk treatments, and musings on PTSD. It’s well-constructed, even if I felt the writing could’ve been better in a few places. The imagery was top-tier though.
It’s a great sequel to What Moves the Dead. I totally recommend it.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
Mary and the Birth of Frankenstein is a dual timeline reimagining of Mary Shelley’s life before she completed her novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern PMary and the Birth of Frankenstein is a dual timeline reimagining of Mary Shelley’s life before she completed her novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. In one timeline, we are with Mary in Dundee, Scotland, in 1812 as she fostered long-term with the radical Baxter family. In the other, we are with Mary in 1816, “the year without a summer”, on Lake Geneva in Switzerland with her husband Percy, their son William, and her stepsister, Claire. They’re splitting their time between their smaller cottage where they stay with William and his nanny and Villa Diodati, where Lord Byron and John Polidori are staying.
I absolutely loved this book. Adored it, even. Percy Bysshe Shelley is one of my favorite poets, and the mythology of the events surrounding what happened during the “year without a summer” at Villa Diodati is a fascinating subject to me. Mention Villa Diodati within my hearing range and I immediately will swivel my head in fascination. Not to mention the fact Mary Shelley is one of my heroes.
This book was originally written in Dutch, but as far as I can tell, the translation was exceptional. The prose was smooth as silk and never felt awkward to read. I don’t know if this is what translators want to hear, but it didn’t feel like a translation–it felt natural.
The book itself does take some liberties with history when it comes to Mary’s time with the Baxters, but since the book’s most fanciful, whimsical, and even mystical moments take place during this timeline it would make sense for Eekhout to shuffle some things around to make room for her narrative. Mary is only 14 when she arrives in Dundee, happy to be away from crowded London, her indifferent father, the stepmother she doesn’t get along with, and her overdramatic stepsister. She is immediately transfixed by Isabella Baxter, who is a year older than her, and they form an incredibly close bond. It’s here that Mary hears the most stories and begins telling her own. It’s here that Mary discovers the first villain in her life that takes something from her.
No one knows quite for sure what all happened in 1816 at Villa Diodati. We know this is where Claire Claremont fell pregnant with the child that Lord Byron would own up to fathering. This is where Mary Shelley started to pen her infamous novel. Some say this is where Percy Bysshe Shelley became convinced he saw his doppelganger one night. In Eekout’s book, however, this is the place where Mary Shelley remembers the villain she met in Dundee and the stories she heard there. This is where her anger at men and marriage grows. This is where her grief simmers and her depression deepens. This is where she takes up the effort to write a ghost story and decides to write about a monster, instead.
I will tell you that this book is all vibes, imagery, and emotion. While Eekhout is careful not to neglect her supporting characters, you can be sure the focus of her energy is definitely on the complexity that is Mary. You can tell she’s studied Mary Shelley extensively and has her vision of Mary down to a science because her characterization is utterly consistent.
The worldbuilding is lush and atmospheric and the prose is languid, even dreamy in places. It’s a well-crafted and beautiful novel and a lovely fall read.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
The Haunting of Velkwood is a stunningly beautiful and truly eerie novel not only about confronting the ghosts of your past (quite literally, in this The Haunting of Velkwood is a stunningly beautiful and truly eerie novel not only about confronting the ghosts of your past (quite literally, in this case), but also about the isolation and empty promises of America’s suburban neighborhoods and the manner in which such a way of living encourages neighbors to pay no attention to what happens behind other’s closed doors lest your closed door be the one that comes under scrutiny.
I haven’t enjoyed a horror novel this much in months, and I truly think it’s because I really got to sink my analytical claws into it. In university I studied human geography and urban planning, and one of my great areas of interest was the dangers and perils of suburban living to the human psyche and familial relationships (especially between parent and child). The Haunting of Velkwood really allowed me to stretch the parts of my brain that are absolutely fascinated with how dangerous it is for humans to live in isolated and homogenous groups like the titular one in this book.
People fear what they don’t understand, and that is true of Velkwood Street both before the main narrative of this book and during the main events. What happened? Why? Who was involved? Who’s still in there? Are they alive? Dead? Something else? Can it be fixed? What will happen if they just let it be? Should they poke the bear?
The story and Kiste’s lovely writing are as haunting as the shadows in the depths of the main character’s eyes. A evocative and sad tale of how you can never truly go home again, especially if home was never truly safe to begin with.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
Ideally, I like to give any ARC I read about 25% of its length to impress me before I either decide to DNF the book or to soldier on and see if I can Ideally, I like to give any ARC I read about 25% of its length to impress me before I either decide to DNF the book or to soldier on and see if I can complete it, despite knowing it’s going to be a slog and I’m not going to enjoy it much. Such was the dilemma I felt at the 25% mark of The Carnivale of Curiosities. I chose not to DNF it and to continue on, hoping for some sort of redemption in the rather one-dimensional characters that seemed plucked from some sort of B plot in a Six of Crows spinoff or a pick up in the plodding pace of a sagging plot.
Really, neither happened for me.
For a book that had a really great opening sentence to hook the reader, the book itself seems like a mish mash of Six of Crows, The Night Circus, movies like the Prestige and tv shows like Penny Dreadful or Carnival Row. Fantasy just on its own stands on the shoulders of giants because it’s genre fiction; in the case of historical fantasy writers need to be even more careful because they have that historical, real world ephemera that’s floating around their world building and plot too. You can’t stray too far outside the bounds of what really happened unless you want to classify your book as Alternative Earth fiction (think Steampunk or Gaslamp).
I just ended up thinking this book moved too slow, was too predictable, the characters were just not given the care and attention they should have been, and it really shouldn’t take until you’re into the second act of the book for the inciting event to happen, no matter how long the book is.
That being said, Gibbs is an excellent writer when it comes to setting a scene and when it comes to prose. I think that some better editing would have made this book shine. I hope to see more from her in the future.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you. As per personal policy, this review will not be posted to any social media or bookseller website due to receiving a rating of three stars or lower. ...more
What’s the worst thing about this book? That it had to end. What’s the best thing about this book? That it knew exactly how and when to end.
That’s thWhat’s the worst thing about this book? That it had to end. What’s the best thing about this book? That it knew exactly how and when to end.
That’s the power of a well-written novella: Knowing what to say, how to say it, when to end it, and how to end it well.
I have made no secret of the fact The Woods All Black was one of my most-anticipated titles of 2024. Lee Mandelo’s Summer Sons has lived in my head rent-free since I read the ARC and I was beyond excited when this title was announced. Historical horror? Trans romance? Revenge? 1920s? There was absolutely nothing about this book I’m not 100% here for and now that I’ve read it I can confirm it was absolutely everything I hoped it would be and more.
Leslie Bruin, a WWI war nurse, joined up with the Frontier Nursing Service after coming home to America to help keep women and children healthy even if he doesn’t quite agree with the Service’s eugenics-based mission. He means to work around the margins as he travels from posting to posting. His latest posting is taking him to a very rural town in the hills of Appalachia. Unbeknownst to him, things in that town have happened between when his services were requested and when he arrived that have triggered feelings of ill will between him and the town’s inhabitants before he even arrives.
Yes, the messaging writ large in this book surrounds transphobia, hate crimes, religious zealotry, queer love, and traditional gender roles and conformity. What’s also of great interest is the guilt-shame-fear culture of insulated communities like you’d find in isolated areas of Appalachia, where you’ve known everyone that lives there your whole life. It’s that tumult of feelings in your stomach where you can’t tell if you feel guilty for your actions or ashamed, but you’ll never admit you might have been scared.
The writing is haunting, erotic, bloody, and vengeful. It’s not a southern gothic ballad but a southern gothic folk song, full of revenge and blood-soaked honor.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
I was loving this book so much up until we got to the third act. Then, by the time we got to the end, I wanted to throw my Kindle across the room. I fI was loving this book so much up until we got to the third act. Then, by the time we got to the end, I wanted to throw my Kindle across the room. I felt I had invested so much time and patience in this book that had gone from eerie, macabre, dark, and fascinating to scrabbling and messy and then it just slammed headlong into, “What the heck was that?”, and a general feeling that I had just wasted a great many hours of my time.
I love a good gothic horror mystery. I love good folk horror, and Jewish folklore is filled with some good material. I loved the premise of this book, and E. Saxey started this book out well! I was a happy little mouse, ensconced with Judith (our protagonist) as she stays alone (without a chaperone!) to grieve the loss of her sister’s fiance alone while her sister, mother, and her fiance’s brother are touring Italy together (they are, of course, under the assumption she has a chaperone, which is a con she set up herself so she could have the house and its quiet to herself). Sam, her sister’s fiance, perished roughly a year ago in an accident at a village festival when he fell and drowned in a river, though his body was never recovered.
Judith and her sister, Ruth, are big on rituals and harmless, made-up magic. Their father raised them on the folktales and mythology of England and fairy tales of the west when they first came to London. While their mother is selfish and cared not for much beyond wealth and their large house, their father spoiled them with pre-Raphaelite paintings, dresses straight out of middle ages so they could swan about like princesses, and a grand garden with a lake suited for two girls who wanted nothing more than to read about Lancelot and Guinevere or the Lady of Shalott. They were good Jewish girls, of course, until after their father died and they started keeping company with their new neighbors, Sam and Toby, and their mother never bothered to ensure her daughters’ reputations were kept secure. Ruth saw Sam as a sign that her prince had finally come. If only that had been true.
The first two acts of the book are filled with rituals, dread, fear, mystery, doubt, isolation, darkness, cold, feelings of wrong, rot, and decay. The feelings of being pushed, invaded, taken advantage of; but also the feelings of wanting to help but because you’re selfish, because you want, because you’re in the position to take.
Then, in the third act, it just starts to fall apart. Judith’s excuses for her actions fall thin and I lost my patience with her as a reader. The mystery has essentially been solved and yet she keeps hesitating to do the right thing. It feels like the book should be over and what hasn’t been resolved I had already guessed. The ending just unravels like a poorly-woven sweater, without any control to it. Then, the book just ends. No resolution. No denouement. It was like walking into a brick wall. I don’t know why E. Saxey chose that ending, but in my opinion it wasn't a fit ending for the book and it was a very poor choice. This review would’ve easily been a four star review without that ending.
I hope you like it better than I did.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Per personal policy this review will not appear on any social media or bookseller websites due to receiving a three star or lower rating. ...more
It’s not a good house for anyone, actually. Maybe a solitary adult male, but it seems that hypothesis has yet to be tested. Honestly, I think the housIt’s not a good house for anyone, actually. Maybe a solitary adult male, but it seems that hypothesis has yet to be tested. Honestly, I think the house just needs to be left alone. Maybe even knocked down. I don’t care how pretty and old and historic it is.
This book was honestly a creepier read than I thought it would be, but I think that may have something to do with being a mom. (If you aren’t a mom and it still creeped you out, then please feel free to let me know). I don’t creep out easily. I don’t get scared watching most horror films or reading most horror books, but one trigger I do have is my fitness as a mother and/or my capability to keep my children safe. A large part of this book has to do with mothers questioning their ability to keep their children safe and their fitness as a mother.
The setting does nothing but add to this dread. The titular house is called The Reeve, and it’s on a cliff in Dorset County in England. The house was built in the early 19th century, on top of those legendary Jurassic-era cliffsides, and has hardly been updated since. There are woods on one side of the property, and a large garden. In the early timeline, there’s a pond on the grounds. In the later timeline, the pond has been haphazardly filled in and covered with grass. This dwelling is far, far from any major city, sitting on the very southern coast of England where no one but locals and tourists have much interest in coming through because there’s not even a ferry crossing near the area. It’s isolated, on top of a hill, and doesn’t exactly look inviting. Not to mention, the locals all know The Reeve has a history to it, even if they don’t like to talk about it.
In the past timeline, set in the late 1970s, the story is told from the point of view of Lydia, a nanny for a widow named Sara who has four children. When Sara’s husband died, she sold their home in London and moved all of them out to The Reeve, which Sara’s husband had purchased for them as a summer home before he passed away. Sara works from home as an accountant, Lydia cares for the children, and a local lady named Dot comes in and does the cooking and some light cleaning.
In the present timeline, The Reeve is purchased by Nick and Orla, who were looking to move to the countryside and closer to his mom and dad. However, Nick didn’t even consult Orla before purchasing the home, and she felt obligated to go along with his decision. Their son, Sam, has selective mutism, and they have an infant girl as well. Nick promises to be home every weekend as he works during the week in Bristol, to help with the massive amount of repairs the house needs, and to buy Orla a car since he’s taking their only one. Nick, of course, either falls short on these things or doesn’t follow through at all.
Collins writes this book with an incredible sense of atmosphere and imagery. Her imagination is vibrant and she manages to capture on page these scenes filled with a combination of morbid wonder and fascinating dread: ghostly children sitting together on tree branches, ghost-white limbs disappearing around tree trunks, bushes, and through fields of tall grass. Dark hair whipping around a corner. A marble rolling down the stairs. Do ghosts live in a realm that adheres to temporal linearity? Are ghosts trapped only in their present and future, or is it possible that we can see ghosts of people who haven’t died yet?
I saw something that called this a feminist tale, and I have to disagree. Lydia doesn’t fully understand, comprehend, or try to empathize with Sara’s grief. All the women in town know there’s something wrong with Orla, yet they only make a token effort to intervene and support her. In the end, everyone–even the women–give up on Orla and Sara. No one tries to rescue them. It feels as if the mothers pay the price for the children, and that’s not feminist. Not at all.
Sadly, in a lot of cases it is realistic. And then those children are left without their mothers. Who says if they’re better off after that?
This book will creep you out and freak you out, but then it’ll make you think about the sacrifices women make in the name of motherhood and all the additional sacrifices we ask them to make. Ultimately, how much is too much to ask of a woman?
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.
This is the first time a Catriona Ward book has let me down.
When I started out this Russian nesting egg of a novel, I absolReal Rating: 3.5 / 5 Stars
This is the first time a Catriona Ward book has let me down.
When I started out this Russian nesting egg of a novel, I absolutely loved it. I was digging it. However, the longer this book went on, and the more layers Ward unveiled, the less I enjoyed it. Simply put: It became messy. It became less interesting. It became hard to keep track of. It lost propulsion. The pacing lacked off. I simply started to lose interest. By the end, I didn’t really care how it ended as long as the book just finally ended. I haven’t been this disappointed in a book in a very long time.
For the entire first act or so, I did truly enjoy it: the set up, the characters, Ward’s truly incredibly creepy prose and incredible world building. The book felt like it held so much potential in its pages…only for it all to fizzle out like the whole book has been rained on and it to become a damp mess.
The 3,5 stars I’m awarding this book comes purely for the portion of the book I loved and the passages here and there after that part that I thought were really beautiful. I’m not willing to go so far as to give this book three stars, because it’s not a simple, average novel I’d just toss away. It’s still Catriona Ward. It just doesn’t feel like her best effort.
I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone.
Thank goodness Poppy Ireland is a great writer that can craft a compelling story and create interesting characters, because otherwise I might not haveThank goodness Poppy Ireland is a great writer that can craft a compelling story and create interesting characters, because otherwise I might not have stuck with this book until the end. Why, do you ask? Oh, because of the dreaded slow burn. And by slow burn, I mean dang near the end of the last act and it’s not even that explicit.
You guys know me: I’m a thirsty girl. I love my fast to medium burns, and I like my spicy scenes to be just that–SPICY. The single steamy scene in this book is closer to a regular ol’ romance novel than what I’m used to reading. It was quick and it was… normal? Normal-ish? Whatever it was, it wasn’t my usual cup of jet fuel.
Luckily, Ireland gives us readers who are used to jet fuel spice scenes something to hold onto in the form of an intriguing FMC who truly loves her father, a compelling storyline, a pair of star-crossed lovers, a rumbling of conspiracy under the surface, buckets of secrets left to be spilled, and fun supporting characters.
I think Ireland may have used this first book to get the vast majority of world-building and character development out of the way so in the next two books the storyline and romantic relationship can really shine through without too much exposition getting in the way. It’s a smart move I wish more authors made, but it does tend to make the first books in these series a little harder to read for us readers who like our spice. But if you can hang on, the story pays off, and I think we’ll all appreciate the next two books all the more.
I was provided a copy of this book by the author. All thoughts and opinions expressed in this review are mine alone. Thank you.
File Under: Fantasy Romance/Shifter Romance/Coming of Age/Contemporary Romance/Gothic/Paranormal Romance/Romance Series/Spice Level 1 ...more
Okay, okay. I’m a sucker for certain tropes. I’m totally going to admit it. That’s totally the reason I snapped this book upReal Rating: 3.5 / 5 Stars
Okay, okay. I’m a sucker for certain tropes. I’m totally going to admit it. That’s totally the reason I snapped this book up.
It’s dark!
Our FMC has gone through some deep, dark stuff!
It takes place at a Catholic boarding school!
It’s bully RH with mm content and a little bit of ff!
Oh, a little professor/student cum priest/penitent action?
Oh, and it’s got a secret society twist?
Well, heck. Count me in, sugar. All of that is like catnip to me.
I gotta tell you: It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad, either!
It’s got some obvious flaws in copy editing and proofreading, and the writing is a bit immature. There are some jumps between scenes that don’t make a lot of sense or leave plot holes. These mistakes aren’t things that can’t be fixed with time and experience by the authors. Both Amber Nicole and Jenn Bullard have room to grow in their writing when it comes to this series and I’m sure they’ll come back in the second book with the notes in hand from the reviewers of this installment and it’ll make editing the second installment that much easier and the read will be that much smoother. I’m a big believer in growth.
The bones of the story are good. The tropes and fun stuff this book is framed around are sound and have the makings of being an excellent series. The characters have the outline of being fantastic characters. Therein lies the issue: It’s all potential unrealized. Everything about this book has the potential to be great, but this book reads like the rough draft of what will eventually be a fantastic book once everything is fully fleshed out and realized.
Some proofreading, copy editing, and content editing would smooth out the continuity, spelling errors, grammar issues, and plot holes. The authors spending some more time with their characters, fleshing them out and bringing them from mere outlines to full realization, would definitely make this book among some of the more excellent novels in this genre.
What's great is even with the deficits this first installment has, I still enjoyed the read for what it was. It’s still a story that intrigues me and I enjoyed reading simply for what it was. It simply could’ve been much better.
I was provided with a copy of this title by the authors and Peachy Keen AS. All opinions and views expressed in this review are my own. Thank you.
File Under: Alphabet Soup Romances/Polyamorous Romances/Contemporary Romance/Dark Romance/Gothic/LGBTQ Romance/Romance Series/Read at Your Own Risk Romance/RH Romance/Why Choose Romance/Spice Level 3/Secret Society/High School or Boarding School...more
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