Book: Can’t Spell Treason without Tea Author: Rebecca Thorne Publisher: Bramble / Tor Books Year: 2024 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “All Reyna and Kianthe want is to open a bookshop that serves tea while firelight drifts between the rafters. However, Reyna works as one of the queen’s private guards, and Kianthe is the most powerful mage in existence. Leaving their lives isn’t so easy. But after an assassin takes Reyna hostage, she decides she’s thoroughly done risking her life for a self-centered queen. Meanwhile, Kianthe has been waiting for a chance to flee responsibility – all the better that her girlfriend is on board. Together, they settle in Tawney, a town nestled in the icy tundra near dragon country, and open the shop of their dreams. What follows is a cozy tale of mishaps, mysteries, and a murderous queen throwing the realm’s biggest temper tantrum, where these two women will discover just what they mean to each other…and the world.”
Review : This is another first for me, notably from the same publishing house as the last book I reviewed, a book that was originally independently published in 2022 and has now been picked up by a major publisher, scheduled to be re-released in 2024. I thought it looked familiar! Turns out I’ve been seeing people post about Can’t Spell Treason without Tea for a little while after it’s independent publishing. With the popularity of Travis Baldree’s Legends and Lattes, it’s little wonder a book that credits Baldree’s debut novel with it’s inception, has done so well! I have also found myself swept up in Baldree’s world, searching for additional cozy fantasy novels since finishing both his books, so this was a welcome surprise.
Thorne has successfully created a cozy, relatively low-stakes, fantasy novel that seems to check all the boxes for me. There’s rich world-building without the confusing word salad that sometimes accompanies fantasy novels, I never once struggled to visualize the queendom or any of it’s surrounding countries; there’s just enough mention of tea blends, baked goods, and rolling fires without going so far down the rabbit hole that the entire story becomes a cook book; and there’s mystery and adventure, peppered with betrayal, gryphon flights, and just a dash of magic. It’s the perfect blend of everything I’m looking for in a cozy, no-anxiety, fantasy novel. Thorne sets us up well for additional books, something I’m greatly anticipating (I know there’s a second book coming! It, like the first book, was also originally independently published, but will be re-released later this year). I even tried to buy book two in it’s independent form, but it’s already been marked up to roughly $150 so, like the rest of you, I will be waiting until the fall for the second installment. And that’s about as high of praise as I can give – I never attempt to buy a sequel of a copy I’ve been gifted as an ARC, I try my hand at getting the review copy for the next book in the lineup, and if I don’t get it, I move on.
There were a couple instances where I felt this book could have benefitted from some additional editing, but I suspect that may come with a bit of time, experience, and additional books. None of it felt so grievous that I wouldn’t read more in the future or wouldn’t recommend the series to friends (which I have already done!), but it’s worth mentioning. First, I realize the series is literally called Tomes & Tea, but the overuse of the word “tome” grated on my nerves throughout the book. I think this book, and subsequent books, would benefit from occasionally referring to books as something other than tomes, but that’s a personal preference on my end and perhaps it doesn’t bother anyone else. And second, there were several instance of dialogue that felt so stilted, it was clear this is a debut novel – and I do thin that’s okay! Like I said, I think some of these small errors will be adjusted with time and experience and I expect that book two, and any further books Thorne decides to write, will likely improve. There’s a lot of overuse of the word “girlfriend” in conversation that doesn’t read true to spoken dialogue, or overly formal wording that doesn’t quite strike me as realistic to a verbal conversation. I’m aware that this is a fantasy and not meant to be realistic, but I do expect dialogue to be at least convincing.
Advice : I highly suggest you mark this one on your calendar! If you love cozy, low stakes, but highly enjoyable, smut-free fantasy, this will be right up your alley. If you enjoyed Travis Baldree’s books, this one is definitely for you.
Book: The Coven Author: Harper L Woods Publisher: Bramble / Tor Books Year: 2023 & 2024 Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “I was raised to be my father’s weapon against the Coven, who had taken everything from him. I would do anything to keep my younger brother from suffering the same fate. My path lead me to the prestigious halls of Hollow’s Grove University, where witches learn to practice their magic free from human judgement. There I come face-to-face with the beautiful and infuriating Headmaster, Alaric Grayson Thorne. He despises me just as much as I loathe him – in spite of the fire that burns between us…”
Review : This is a first for me, a book that has been previously published being sent out as an advanced reader copy. I admit, it took me a little bit of digging to figure out why I received an uncorrected advanced reading copy of a book that was published in 2023; it seems this marketing campaign is running ahead of a special edition publication of The Coven debuting in August of 2024, a month before the sequel releases. Whatever the case, this book has been circulating and doing surprisingly well over the last few months, so by the time I received an ARC, opinions had already filtered their way to me. I received this book and immediately heard from a friend how much they enjoyed it, I know the author has amassed a monstrous following on social media, falling into the category of fantasy romance which means the loyal fans are deeply loyal. I had expectations, to say the least.
Unfortunately, The Coven lived up to the low, low bar of my expectations. Now, before we dive in, please don’t get me wrong! I’m not here to shame anyone for reading smutty fantasy novels, I don’t look down my nose at the books or the readers of the genre. At all. However, it has been my experience that many of these fantasy romance authors, in an effort to churn out as many books as possible for their droves of die-hard fans, often sacrifice quality for quantity. Or even quality for smut. It’s fair to say that I went into this book with a bit of trepidation, knowing Woods’ second book is set to debut just a year after her first – a timeline which is pretty drawn-out as far as fantasy books are concerned lately. I expected this book would sacrifice plot for smut, but what I didn’t expect was the shoddy writing (though, perhaps I should have given the passive voice used in the synopsis).
*Spoilers Ahead*
The Coven is a hard to follow fantasy that very clearly draws on so many fantasy and witchy tv shows. Unfortunately for Woods, I too have watched so many fantasy and witchy tv shows, meaning my mind immediately jumped to all the storylines she’s at times all but outright copied. First of all, the vampire-witch romance trope is unbelievably overplayed, but if you’re going to go that route, at least stray away from names used in tv shows like Vampire Diaries (*cough* Alaric *cough*). I find it hard to believe that any reader interested in a book like The Coven hasn’t also watched Sabrina, Legacies, or A Discovery of Witches. Like I said, the vampire-witch struggle and eventual romance is played out. There’s something deeply aggravating about a controlling, toxic male vampire who for some unknown reason just cannot resist the temptation of an “impossible” and frustrating female witch. We’ve seen it played out hundreds of times through so many fantasy books, movies, and tv series…it’s not compelling. Pun not intended. There’s nothing about an over-done trope that makes me want to continue turning pages. It makes me want to throw the book in the trash.
My second issue with The Coven is that while I can appreciate that Woods chose to include content warnings at the beginning of the book, clueing the reader in that the central male character is nothing but toxic, at the end of the day the portrayal of a controlling, manipulative, and coercive relationship is at best disquieting and at worst misogynistic and traumatic. I have yet to decide where Woods falls on the spectrum with her male main character (MMC) – a content warning isn’t enough, simply choosing not to write toxic men into stories where the reader is meant to find their humanity and fall in love with them is more of what I’m looking for. And this leads me to my third grievance with The Coven, which is the, frankly, hard to believe convolution of the storyline that means we readers cannot actually find humanity with Woods’ MMC because he is, in fact, the literal devil. Woods has created a universe where magic is readily available to those who have magical family lines they’ve been fortunate to be born into. Magic, then, is available through whatever means your family line is able to work with : air, earth, water, life, crystals, and the cosmos. However! In Woods’ universe, this ever-present magic is only available through these forms thanks to a blood pact that was made with the literal christian devil, Lucifer Morningstar. I told you, convoluted.
It’s this blood pact that brings me to my fourth grievance with The Coven : setting. While this book is modern, the witches and their family lines all stem from Salem, MA, as if that trope weren’t played out enough already, though as you can see, Woods is not one to run from an overdone trope. Though we’re to believe that Salem is the pinnacle of witchy activity (and not, I don’t know, any of the sites where thousands of people were burned overseas thanks to an unrelenting witch-trial that barely made it’s way to the States), Woods chooses to use the name of someone who didn’t exist in real life as the witch-mother herself, she who made a pact with the devil. It’s like there are all these puzzle pieces and they’re all close enough to fitting, so you shove and shove at them, hoping they will eventually fit, only to realize they’re pieces from two different puzzles.
Finally, my last, and possibly my biggest frustration with The Coven is the slipshod writing Woods employs. We can see it first in the synopsis, an ever-present passive voice. All I could think as I read this book was how much my high school english teacher would have despised it (content aside). He drilled into my head on a regular basis how insufferable a passive voice is, and to this day it lives in my brain : thou shalt not use a passive voice. The Coven is a lot of “what had happened” – again, as you can see from the synopsis. The writing doesn’t improve as the book continues and given that this is an ARC of a book that’s already been published, I don’t suspect additional editing will truly occur here. This book is how it is, passive voice and all. Woods could have benefitted from removing about 50% of the occurrences of the word “that” as well, something that I would think any editor would notice in a first or second draft. Again, this is an ARC for an already published book. It is what it is.
Advice : If fantasy smut is your thing, this book is pretty dang boring. If quality writing is your thing, run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. Don’t. Bother. It’s a waste of money and time. Trust me.
Book: The Manicurist’s Daughter Author: Susan Lieu Publisher: Celadon Books Year: 2024 Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “Susan Lieu has long been searching or answers. About her family’s past and about her own future. Refugees from the Vietnam War, Susan’s family escaped to California in the 1980s after five failed attempts. Upon arrival, Susan’s mother was their savvy, charismatic North Star, setting up two successful nail salons and orchestrating every success – until Susan was eleven. That year, her mother died from a botched tummy tuck. After the funeral, no one was ever allowed to talk about her or what had happened. For the next twenty years, Susan navigated a series of cascading questions alone – why did the most perfect person in her life want to change her body? Why would no one tell her about her mother’s life in Vietnam? And how did this surgeon, who preyed on Vietnamese immigrants, go on operations after her mother’s death? Sifting through depositions, tracking down the surgeon’s family, and enlisting the help of spirit channelers, Susan uncovers the painful truth of her mother, herself, and the impossible ideal of beauty. The Manicurist’s Daughter is much more than a memoir about grief, trauma, and body image. It is a story of fierce determination, strength in shared culture, and finding your place in the world.”
Review : I was really excited to dive into this advanced copy memoir after reading the letter to the reader Lieu included with the book – but I’m realizing now that much of what was covered in the letter isn’t touched on in the back cover synopsis, so I’m not sure you’re seeing the wild ride that her letter was, so I’ll share a bit of it here with you : “For the last two decades, no one in my family has ever spoken of her or how she died. I would ask questions, but they said I was being too emotional or stuck in the past. Desperate for answers, I joined a cult, tracked down the family of my mother’s surgeon, and sought justice through the help of spirit channelers.” This is all within the first few sentences in her letter to the reader! What a wild ride, I thought, I couldn’t wait to get into the meat of this memoir.
A comedian by trade, Lieu writes in a way that showcases her humor, leading us through her life as the youngest daughter of Vietnamese immigrant parents with off the cuff remarks that leave you laughing out loud, winding deftly through the trauma and emotional turmoil of losing a parent so young, guiding us through struggling to find answers while upholding a nearly impossible personal and familial standard; from feeling lost while navigating ivy league schooling to searching for answers from beyond the veil, Lieu takes us on, what ends up being, a winding and at times rather bumpy road. From the beginning, Lieu makes it clear that body image, food, and self worth are deeply connected within her family – something we can see clearly played out in the tummy tuck operation that ultimately takes her mother’s life at a mere 38 years old. Not only is Lieu constantly criticized for any weight she might put on, she’s also forced to consume every single piece of food that’s put before her, at least once to the point of vomiting. Lieu struggles so desperately for answers as to why her mother might have felt the need to have a cosmetic procedure for so much of her life, all the while laying it out methodically for the reader to understand, like a neon sign flashing in front of our eyes.
It’s for this exact reason that this book should be read with caution – tread lightly my friends, if you have struggled with disordered eating this book may present complications for you. The majority of the book revolves around food, so much so that part of the advanced reader copy package included a few postcards with pictures of traditional Vietnamese foods on them. While I think the point that Lieu is trying to make is an important one, there are a lot of complex emotions and ties to food in this book that may bring up some difficult emotions in the reader. Lieu refers so fondly to the dishes her family members made while she was growing up, speaking kindly of the foods her relatives make when she comes home to visit as an adult, while simultaneously speaking poorly of her body, her body image, and the way her body is objectified by those around her. It’s complex and confusing at times, but only in the sense that those who have not navigated this ground themselves may struggle to understand the difficulty one faces when they’re told over and over to shrink themselves. This book requires a content warning.
There are some pacing issues I struggled with in this memoir, places where Lieu spent so much time, chapters even, and places where she jumped around almost frantically. You probably know how much I hate being told what’s going on, and while Lieu doesn’t do this, there are connections she asks her reader to make that at times aren’t given enough context to make on our own. I’m a little perplexed as to why the pacing is so frenetic an uneven, with certain aspects of her personal story garnering so much attention while others warrant no more than a sentence or two. The time frame is a bit scattered, at times being not quite chronological, jumping from the past to the present of Lieu’s own life, and I feel she might have benefitted from gently tweaking the format.
These few issues aside, I found Lieu’s work to be an important embrace of family history, of breaking down the barriers that exist between family members, and of honest inspection of how generational curses impact our lives. In writing this memoir, Lieu is doing the work to heal not only her own self, but the individual members of her family, and past generations of her family as well. It’s an important read, but it does come with some necessary warning.
Advice : If you enjoy a memoir I really think this is going to be right up your alley. If you’ve struggled with disordered eating, I might avoid this one for your own sake.
Book: Middletide Author: Sarah Crouch Publisher: Atria Books Year: 2024 Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “One peaceful morning, in the small Puget Sound town of Point Orchards, the lifeless body of Dr. Erin Landry is found hanging from a tree on the property of prodigal son and failed writer Elijah Leith. Sheriff Jim Godbout’s initial investigation points to an obvious suicide, but upon closer inspection, there seem to be clues of foul play when he discovers that the circumstances of the beautiful doctor’s death were ripped straight from the pages of Elijah’s own novel. Out of money and motivation, thirty-three-year-old Elijah returns to his empty childhood home to lick the wounds of his fertile writing career. Hungry for purpose, he throws himself into restoring the ramshackle cabin his father left behind and rekindling his relationship with Nakita, the extraordinary girl from the nearby reservation whom he betrayed but was never able to forget. As the town of Point Orchards turns against him, Elijah must fight for his innocence against an unexpected foe who is close and cunning enough to flawlessly frame him for murder. For fans of Where the Crawdads Sing, this scintillating literary suspense seeks to uncover a case of love, loss, and revenge.”
Review : Okay, Middletide is my first DNF (did not finish) of the year. And while I would normally not review a book I didn’t finish, I’m trying to be better about reviewing every advanced reader copy I get this year; while this may be a shorter review than most, I’m going to let you know why I chose not to finish this one. I had immediate red flags right from the start with the author’s note to the reader explaining that while Sarah Crouch took inspiration from the Lummi and Navajo Nations, the indigenous group she writes about is fictional. There was something about fictionalizing a group of people that didn’t sit quite right with me, something that continued to itch at the back of my mind as Crouch introduced us to Nakita and her father, to members of the fictional Indigenous group who also happen to be Christians (her father being the Christian pastor on the fictional reservation). The more I think about it, the more it rubs me the wrong way. Not only was the narrative not served by a white woman writing in a fictionalized Indigenous narrative, but the insistence that they be Christian rather than connected to their Indigenous beliefs felt off balance, at best. I think it’s also worth mentioning that Crouch wrote Nakita as living in a three story home on the reservation, take that how you will.
Crouch puts a great deal of emphasis on her main character, Elijah, being a homesteader; surely through her long-winded descriptions of the food he makes for himself and the plant-life that surround his small off-the-grid-esque cabin she earned the “for fans of Where the Crawdads Sing” title from the synopsis. However, if you’ve been here for a while you might remember that I gave WTCS a 2.5 stars for it’s lyrical writing and I still chose to give Middletide half a star less. Where WTCS crafted an effortlessly beautiful story full of natural elements and wonder, Middletide felt like effort. Crouch included so many drawn out descriptions of Elijah’s food that it became repetitive and frustrating early on, but when Elijah began killing his own food with equally long winded discussions about his bow and arrow, well, this vegan was out.
**Spoilers Ahead**
I was willing to overlook and plow through some of the frustrations I’d come across, hoping to find a quality murder mystery at the heart of this debut novel, but when the narrative took a swift turn into the unbelievable, I flipped to the end, discovered the twist I predicted immediately was true, and shut the book. Crouch asks the reader not to suspend belief, but to be so carried away by cozy conversations about food that we forget the nature of the characters she’s crafted for the reader. When the narrative changes on a dime, it becomes hard to reconcile who we’ve come to see with what she’s asking us to believe – and the real kicker is, if you’ve been reading thrillers for some time, it’s especially hard to reconcile because the plot eerily mirrors another’s work. Jumping from Elijah’s third person narrative to the diaries of a woman he’s been seeing, Crouch asks us to believe that Elijah has been an unreliable narrator and instead believe the diary entries we’re reading, which do not correspond with the third-person telling we’ve been getting until this point. I have a hard time with this, as Crouch is asking us to believe that she is the unreliable narrator as the author of a third-person narrative. Had Elijah’s perspective been first person, I would have had an easier time believing his account might not be entirely truthful, and the twist would have taken hold. Instead, the diary entries we read are so out of sync with what we’ve come to know over one hundred-some pages that it’s impossible to believe them, which is unfortunate because the plot twist reminded me immediately of Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. And sure enough, when I flipped to the back of the book…the diary entries were faked in order to frame Elijah for murder.
Advice : This book certainly has an audience that I think might enjoy it, and if you fall into the homesteading, living off the land, the main characters date but don’t even kiss for months, kind of camp, well this might be for you. If you aren’t, or you’ve read Gone Girl, don’t bother. You already know how it ends.
Book: Shanghailanders Author: Juli Min Publisher: Spiegel & Grau Year: 2024 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “The year is 2040, and wealthy real estate investor Leo Yang – handsome, distinguished, a real Shanghai man – is on the train back to the city after seeing his family off at the airport. His sophisticated Japanese-French wife, Eko, and their two eldest children, Yumi and Yoko, are headed for Boston, though one daughter’s revelations will soon reroute them to Paris. While the years rewind to 2014, Shanghailanders rotates perspectives, drawing readers into the shared and separate lives of the Yang family, parent by parent, daughter by daughter, and through the eyes of the people in their orbit. As their world shifts and brings change for each of the Yangs, universal constants remain : love is complex, and family will always be connected by blood, secrets, and longing.”
Review :Shanghailanders is a complex work of creative genius, told not just from shifting perspectives, but also from an unwinding timeline, the book spans from 2040 to 2014, with each subsequent chapter unwinding time just a tiny bit more. Min’s first novel, Shanghailanders is a breathtaking debut novel filled with family history, peeling back the curtain, giving us a glimpse into the Yang family’s dynamic; toxicity, growth, rejection, and all the layers the meld together to form a family. Beginning and Ending with Leo, the patriarch of the Yang family, Min has bookended her work with a man whose chapters hardly revolve around his inner world at all. I found it fascinating that throughout the entirety of the novel, Min chose to only reveal the Yang family through three male-centered chapters, two of which are Leo, the third being the family’s driver – all three of whom serve only to point us back toward the matrilineal family line.
Shanghailanders is a novel that addresses the fragility of time both in narrative and construct, giving us the smallest glimpses into the years that make up a family, revealing small clues and inward peaks that create the structure the Yangs have crafted their world(s) into. Speaking broadly of time, of bloodlines, and of familial connection, Min paints a much more detailed picture with the narrative, showing rather than telling us that Leo, and likely Yoko as well, has an anxiety disorder that causes apocalyptic dread, that drives his need to see his daughters sinking into independence and stability, that, at times, pushes his family to the brink, threatening to shatter their bubble; that Yuki, the youngest, at sixteen is facing the loss of innocence and the heartache of love lost; that while each family member feels tethered to the other, neither feels the thread of love as connection, that love is not a given. This is a novel filled with longing, with logic, with dread, and the potent, ever present realization that time is a fragile filament that tugs at us all.
I think the most successful aspect of this book is the format, rewinding through the narrative from 2040 until, finally, 2014. Taking us briefly through the years of improved technology, covid, and finally into those pre-pandemic years where the children are barely formed, where love is new, and anxieties aren’t quite realized yet. Each chapter invites us into a new realm of the Yang family, masterfully written, weaving webs so delicate behind the scenes that we cannot see each thread until the final page has turned. Each chapter left me craving more, desperately wishing the timeline was reversed, that I could follow this family into further detail, into more solid ground, wishing and hoping I would be given glimpses into the characters and storylines I most enjoyed. Alas, with each passing chapter, each character faded, each storyline slipped away, and I was transported to younger versions, the groundwork of each prior chapter laid out ahead of me. The longing I felt. Perfection.
Advice : This is a truly remarkable work created with a unique vision. If you enjoy epics, this might just be for you. Spanning 26 years in the reverse, this scratches the epic itch while fulfilling a creative interest and need. I’d mark this one on the calendar.
Book: Earth & Soul : Reconnecting Amid Climate Chaos Author: Leah Rampy Publisher: Bold Story Press Year: 2024 Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “Facing directly into the devastation of climate chaos and biodiversity loss, Rampy leads her readers on a soul journey through grief and loss to also claim the beauty, joy, and possibilities available when we reconnect with Earth. As we follow the author’s compelling personal experiences and engagingly lyrical stories of whales, cedars, sparrows, and more, we see the necessity and urgency of learning from the wisdom of our kin in the natural world. Writing at the intersection of spirituality, ecology, and story, Rampy charts a course for living deeply connected to Earth in ways that are both vitally important for and uniquely suited to these times. Even now when the worlds as we once knew it is ending and a new story lies beyond what we can envision, we hold the potential to lay stepping stones toward a diverse and vibrant world of oneness and mutual flourishing.”
Review : I have so many conflicting thoughts as I sit down to review this book. It gives me no joy to give a book about climate change a 50% review, particularly as the publicist for this book sent this book to me because of my own work in the world of sustainability. I wanted to love Earth & Soul, but I didn’t. Let’s start at the beginning : Leah Rampy, while boasting a PHD, does not have a background in biology, climate sciences, or ecology – her doctorate is in curriculum. While I don’t think it’s necessary for an author to hold an advanced degree, I do believe it hinders the work and the words she’s trying to communicate. Because her field of study has nothing to do with the subject matter, Rampy relies heavily on the works of others, paraphrasing (and citing) books I have been privileged enough to have read in the past. While this might function well in an academic paper or blog post, I find the distillation of the work of others to be an unfortunate book choice. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a book filled with cited sources, don’t get me wrong! I love a well researched book. Where I take issue is how a story is told; Rampy rarely sheds light on her own experiences, choosing instead to simply share what others have written.
Rampy barely pulls the curtains back on her own life, something I think does a true disservice to the impact this book could have made. As I mentioned, she relies heavily on the work and words of others to bolster her narrative rather than allowing her own connection and experiences with Earth to drive the narrative forward. Referencing Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass eight times in 180 pages, Rampy clearly seeks to emulate Wall Kimmerer’s foundational work. Unfortunately, it reads as someone who’s read Braiding Sweetgrass and is relaying it to a friend who doesn’t want to read it themselves. As I have recently finished reading Braiding Sweetgrass myself, I found this particularly glaring. Rampy references indigenous wisdom and knowledge, which I appreciate a great deal as the scientific world is finally coming to understand just how much indigenous wisdom could have helped us over the last several hundred years; I couldn’t help but feel that I would rather be reading about indigenous wisdom right from the source, rather than distilled by a white woman. For reference, there was a singular moment in this book that brought me to tears and it was, unfortunately, a retelling of a Wall Kimmerer story. I found the writing style to be choppy and stilted, there was little flow to this narrative, though in the few places where it did flow (interestingly enough, found during the few brief descriptions of Rampy’s own personal experiences with the Earth), it was quite enjoyable to read.
Rampy’s style seems to be tell, rather than show, which you may know I find an incredibly condescending method of writing. In a chapter entitled “Kith and Kin”, Rampy uses the words kith and kin a combined total of twenty six times over the course of a mere fifteen pages, beating us over the head with the words rather than showing us what they mean to her. The words will go on to haunt the remainder of the book, interspersed so often than you cannot get away from them. I would rather be shown what kith and kin might look like than be told over and over again what it might mean – the impact is lessened this way, becoming more of an annoyance than a moment of understanding. In other books I’ve reviewed, I’ve found the occasion for telling vs showing often comes from an author’s disbelief that the reader would be intelligent enough to figure things out for themselves, to Rampy’s credit, Earth & Soul did not read this way. It did, however, read as though Rampy didn’t know how to show us rather than telling us, and perhaps that comes from her time spent as a lecturer; perhaps she will learn that as she grows as an author, but for now it leaves me continually frustrated by the way she steals the powerful impact this book could have made right out from under herself.
As someone who is invested in the world of sustainability, I found frustration with this book. Rampy discloses at regular intervals that she has lead, what she refers to as, Pilgrimages all over the world. However, she never once discusses what kind of carbon impact she has on the planet by flying to multiple locations all across the globe with groups of people – in a time when many people are assessing their own carbon impact and coming to the conclusion that regular flight travel has a negative impact on the climate, I find it to be a stark omission. I also wish Rampy would have addressed the privilege that comes from having access to around the world flight travel, of the kind of people who might have the disposable income to go on such a journey, the people who are paying money to gaze upon nature without being tasked with making their own sustainable choices. It’s entirely possible that I’m pegging this all wrong, but Rampy doesn’t discuss any part of her climate footprint or the privilege that comes from these trips, so I can only tell you how it feels, which is…not good. During an early discussion revolving around meditating on nature, Rampy shares an anecdote from one such pilgrimage in which someone left a strand of yarn around an area of Earth with a sign telling people to stop and enjoy. Unfortunately, all I could think about was how that person had littered – sewing continued frustration on my end, as someone who works very hard to keep people from littering and to clean up litter that exists in nature already.
Likewise, Rampy twicediscusses the use of cairns, both as a suggestion for the reader and as an example of what her pilgrimages entail. Again, as someone who works in the realm of sustainability, I find it problematic and ignorant on Rampy’s part to suggest readers create cairns. I have learned, and you can find this on many signs in many forest nation wide, to take only photographs and keep only memories, meaning you are to leave nature as you found it (or in my personal opinion, better than you found it). Creating cairns is frowned upon within the sustainability and naturalist worlds for (largely) two reasons : the first being that cairns created by park rangers exist for a specific reason, they are made to mark trails and creating your own can make a negative impact on carefully constructed cairns used for designating directions; the second being that many creatures, like salamanders, take shelter under or lay their eggs under stones, removing them from where they exist already may either damage eggs, damage habitat, or create fewer available spaces in which an animal may find shelter or lay their eggs.
I left this book deeply frustrated. Rampy spends much time discussing the horrifying facts, figures, and statistics of climate change and biology loss, but she spends precisely zero time discussing who’s at fault for climate change. She doesn’t offer any suggestions for moving forward, ways in which we can reduce our carbon footprint, how we might engage with our local government to facilitate change, or what we can implement into our own lives in order to start the process of making change – all of which I suspect would lead to some unpleasant realizations of her own. She doesn’t discuss the greed, resource lust, or corporate entities who have created this world we find ourselves living within and I find that to be another disservice to what she’s attempting to accomplish. At the end of the day, yes, we have to find ways as individuals to create a world that flourishes around us, but the climate issue is not an individual problem and cannot be addressed as such. Rampy fails in this arena.
Advice : This is a first attempt, I believe that’s clear. This book doesn’t read like something that’s meant for those of us who are already working in the world of sustainability, greatly aware of the impacts of climate change on the natural world. It does read like someone who was not so much a believer in climate change and has since changed their mind, which seems fairly evident in Rampy’s own confessions throughout the book – another frustration as she professes to spending her time teaching others about the climate despite not having a background in the sciences. I think, if you are like me, you would benefit from reading Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer instead. I believe Earth & Soul is directed toward people who have not spent much time thinking about the climate and are beginning to change how they interact with the world – this book will lead them toward other resources that will impact them on a much deeper level.
Book: Like Happiness Author: Ursula Villarreal-Moura Publisher: Celadon Year: 2024 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “It’s 2015 and Tatum Vega feels that her life is finally falling into place. Living in sunny Chile with her partner, Vera, she spends her days surrounded by art at the museum where she works. More than anything else, she loves this new life for helping her forget the decade she spent in New York City orbiting the brilliant and famous author M. Domínguez. When a reporter calls from the US asking for an interview, the careful separation Tatum has constructed between her past and present begins to crumble. Domínguez has been accused of assault, and the reporter is looking for corroboration. As Tatum is forced to reexamine the all-consuming but undefinable relationship that dominated so much of her early adulthood, long-buried questions surface. What did happen between them? And why is she still struggling with the mark the relationship left on her life? Told in a dual narrative alternating between her present day and a letter from Tatum to Domínguez, recounting and reclaiming the totality of their relationship, Like Happiness explores the nuances of a complicated and imbalanced relationship, catalyzing a reckoning with gender, celebrity, memory, Latinx identity, and power dynamics.”
Review :Like Happiness, as Villarreal-Moura writes in the acknowledgements, “is a book about loving books”. Incredibly literary, not only did it tick all the boxes in my soul that feel like satisfying brain-floss, it also rang some bells of familiarity that cannot be overlooked. This is a powerfully moving debut novel detailing the uneven footing of the power dynamic between a popular contemporary male writer and a younger female fan (notably, eight years younger). Feeling out of place with few friends at her Massachusetts college during her undergrad program, texas native Tatum makes a bold move one evening, penning a letter to the author of her new favorite book, Happiness. The author, M, is gaining popularity with his breakout novel of short stories detailing the lives of Latinx individuals in the United States. Feeling seen and understood in a way she has not felt in literary circles yet, particularly on a nearly all white college campus where she’s an art history, english lit double major, finding herself immersed in required reading of white Euro centric authors, Tatum feels at home with M’s book. She writes to M and within a few weeks, he writes back, thus beginning a multi-year long relationship between Mateo (M) and Tatum.
Like Happiness is a dual perspective book, though it doesn’t bounce around nearly as much as you may be accustomed to in a book with multiple narrators or points of view. Told largely through the lens of 2015 Tatum, far removed from her relationship with Mateo, writing a detailed account of her often one-sided relationship with Mateo, and a slightly earlier 2015 version of Tatum, receiving a phone call from a reporter in the States, calling because her relationship is celebrated fact and Mateo has been publicly criticized and outed as an abuser. It has been years since Tatum has spoken to Mateo and while she never experienced the abuses so many women are stepping forward to name, she is sure he isn’t an innocent party, both with the other women and with her. Choosing to tell her story to the reporter, she simultaneously decides to tell her story to Mateo and afford herself the closure she was never granted in the past.
Villarreal-Moura spins a tale of power imbalances, grooming behavior, and codependency that at times feels so real it’s hard to remember this is fiction and not a memoir. Over the span of nearly 300 pages, she outlines patterns of abuse so subtle they could almost go overlooked, laying them out chronologically, revealing a masterpiece of manipulation when the final product is fully revealed. **Spoilers Ahead** Laying the groundwork for Mateo’s ultimate betrayal quite early on, Villarreal-Moura is an expert at building a scene. Not only is Mateo a college professor and author, he is a force of magnetism and power in Tatum’s life. He pulls her into his orbit and expects her to stay just where she is, mesmerized and fawning over his very being. He relies on her for attention, commitment, and praise while expecting her to simply go along with whatever he wants to do – and she does. He so encompasses her world that when he’s in it all others cease to exist. Mateo subtly punishes Tatum when she gets a serious boyfriend, though she and Mateo have never approached much more than a platonic relationship, he cuts her down and pokes fun of her intelligence when she doesn’t give him exactly what he wants, and pays off $20,000 of her school loans, leaving her helpless to the encompassing power he now wields over her.
I don’t want to give away the ending, but know these subtle manipulations are nothing compared to the ultimate betrayal Tatum experiences at the hands of Mateo in the end. Putting a final nail in the coffin of their friendship, she is finally able to extricate herself from the leeching parasite of M, allowing her to write her final letter, this book, to him; knowing it will be the closure she needs in order to fully live her life without his shadow in it. As I read, I couldn’t help but be reminded of an article a read a few years ago about an author whose work I’d read and loved, Nick Flynn. And as I thought about that article, I couldn’t help but be reminded of another, similar, articled I’d read around the same time about another author whose work I’d read and loved, Junot Diaz. Both were published authors, one a professor and the other a keynote speaker, both took advantage of women who were younger than them, women who were still in college. Flynn, in particular, has since been accused by multiple women of abuse and misconduct. There is nothing new about this story, though that doesn’t in any detract from Like Happiness; if anything, I found it gave this book extra connective tissue. There’s a precedent here : men in positions of power who wield that power over unsuspecting women who are at a disadvantage due either to their age or their position (a student vs a professor). It’s common. And therefor, it needs to be told. Villarreal-Moura did a profoundly wonderful job telling it.
Advice : If you love reading books about people who love reading books, Like Happiness is truly wonderful. Villarreal-Moura has introduced me to so many things, though none quite as exciting as my new favorite snack of frozen grapes. If you love reading fiction that’s so perfect and timely that it could easily be memoir, this is it. I highly recommend it.
Book: Fruit of the Dead Author: Rachel Lyon Publisher: Scribner Year: 2024 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “Camp counselor Cory Ansel, eighteen and aimless, afraid to face her high strung single mother in New York, is no longer sure where home is when the father ozone of her campers offers and alternative. The CEO of a Fortune 500 pharmaceutical company, Rolo Picazo is middle-aged, divorced, magnetic. He is also intuited boy Cory. When Rolo proffers a childcare job (and an NDA), Cory diets and internal warning and allows herself to be ferried to his private island. Plied with luxury and opiates manufactured by his company, she tires to assure herself she’s in charge. Her mother, Emer, head of a teetering agricultural NGO, senses otherwise. With her daughter seemingly vanished, Ever crosses land and sea to heed a cry fro help that only she can hear. Alternating between the two women’s perspectives, Rachel Lyon’s Fruit of the Dead incorporates its mythic inspiration with a light touch and devastating precision. The result is a tale that explores love, control, obliteration, and America’s own late-capitalist mythos. Lyon’s reinvention of Persephone and Demeter’s story makes for a haunting and electric novel that readers will not soon forget.”
Review : I was a little skeptical about Fruit of the Dead at first, feeling as though I was about to walk onto Jeffrey Epstein’s island with the back-cover synopsis, not so much a modernized retelling of Persephone’s descent into the underworld and Demeter’s journey to retrieve her. Oh, how wrong I was. Rachel Lyon has spun a masterful tale of persuasion, adoration, and tragedy; a poignant retelling and perfect stand-alone novel. Lyon has completely grasped the fever dream of drug use in such a way that left me feeling dizzy and unmoored as I read Cory’s descent into addiction – a powerful parallel to Persephone’s own descent.
Lyon brings Cory into alignment with Persephone, goddess of both spring and the Underworld, quickly and with ease, as she gets to know Rolo Picazo, her new employer. As the CEO of a big pharma corporation, he has access to medications, drugs, opiates that have not yet been granted FDA approval, most notably a small, gel coated, gleaming red pill called Granadone, Grannies for short. A perfect, ripe, shining pomegranate seed, the demise of Persephone herself. Picazo shares a drink recipe with Cory, a mixture of vodka, pomegranate juice, lime, and, you guessed it, the contents of a Granny; called? Fruit of the Dead. And with her first sip, not even 100 pages in, Cory is snared.
After having been camp counselor to Picazo’s seven year old son, becoming a live-in nanny for his son and slightly younger daughter is easy as can be. Plied with as much alcohol and Grannies as she wants, Cory finds Picazo’s island intocicating. And while Picazo himself (middle aged, bloated, sad) is intriguing to her, she only finds herself (eighteen, unsteady, uncertain) mildly attracted to him in ever-so-brief moments that feel more like the intrigue of someone who grew up without a father. Meanwhile, Picazo expresses clear interest in being both a father figure as well as a romantic partner to Cory right off the bat. And like all master manipulators, he removes his mask and reveals himself nearly immediately, declaring himself a narcissist and reading Cory for the perfect victim she, in fact, is. And like most victims, Cory brushes it all aside, looks beneath the lumpy exterior, and attempts to see the good within. All whilst sinking further and further into a fever dream of addiction and loss of control.
This seems as good a point as any to talk about some content warnings, because, believe me, this book is a walking content warning. Not only does the entire book revolve around the explicit experience and physical sensation of being high and / or drunk, it also speaks in detail about sexual assault, physical assault, and the trauma that results from both. This book is not for the faint of heart, nor should it be read lightly. And while it is written with breathtaking prose, if you do decide to read it, please be careful and gentle with yourself if any of the above are problematic for you.
Bouncing back and forth between an elder teen who does not yet know who she is, who has been the victim of sexual assault and has entirely lost herself because of it, who is then scooped up by a predator and fed mouthfuls of little red happy pills; and a devastated mother who begins to unravel and become feral when she cannot get in touch with her daughter, Fruit of the Dead is nothing short of a masterpiece. We not only glimpse behind the curtain of a well curated mother, a woman who manages an NGO, who hobnobs with google executives, who pulls a few strings and gets her daughter prized internship after internship, who works her magic and lands Cory a scholarship to an all girls private school in Manhattan, we are privy to her downward spiral into mania as she loses herself in the search for her missing daughter. While we find Cory grasping at the very idea of her own identity, we see Emer, Cory’s mother, whose identity no longer fits, a mask that slips, falls, and shatters. The two are wrapped together, entangled in a connection neither can escape.
As a true retelling of Demeter and Persephone, the book does not end with a neat little bow tied on it. After all, Persephone returns to the underworld once every six months, leaving our world to the decay of autumn and the darkness of winter. I won’t completely spoil the book for you, but just know that this is not a happy ending. It is a realistic ending. And for that I am profoundly grateful. A perfect, feral, fever dream of a book.
Advice : I encourage you to read my content warning before deciding if this book is for you. If, however, you read the warning and feel okay with the content, I think you should run as fast as you can to your nearest bookstore on March 5th, 2024 and buy a copy of this book.
Book: The Absinthe Underground Author: Jamie Pacton Publisher: Peachtree Teen Year: 2024 Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “For Sybil Clarion, the Belle Epoque city of Severon is a wild, romantic dream, filled with cares, cabarets, and glittering nightclubs. Eager to embrace the city’s freedom after running away from home, she’s traded high-society soirees for empty pockets and barren cabinets. At least she has Esme, the girl who offered Sybil a home, and maybe – if either of them dared – something more. Ever since Esme Rimbaud brought Sybil back to her flat, the girls have been everything to each other – best friends, found family, and secret crushes. While Esme would rather spend the night tinkering with her clocks and snuggling her cats, Sybil craves excitement and needs money. She plans to get both by stealing the rare posters the crop up around town and selling them to collectors. With rent due, Esme agrees to accompany – and more importantly protect – Sybil. When they’re caught selling a power by none other that its subject, Maeve, the glamorous girl doesn’t press charges. Rather, she invites Sybil and Esme to the Absinthe Underground, the exclusive club she co-owns, and reveals herself to be a green fairy, trapped in this world. She wants to hire thieves for a daring heist in Fae that would set her free, and is willing to pay enough that Sybil and Esme never have to worry about rent again. It’s too good of an offer to pass up, even if Maeve’s tragic story doesn’t quite add up, and even if Sybil’s personal ties to Fae could jeopardize everything she and Esme have so carefully built.”
Review : The Absinthe Underground is a sweet and fun adventure, that, while not low stakes, somehow ended up feeling just low stakes enough that it didn’t trigger any anxiety while reading it. Pacton crafted a beautiful scene by introducing us to the world of Fae, showing us rather than telling us what an intoxicating other-world might look like to two girls from this world. However, where she did a fantasy world justice, I felt she let the reader down with her depictions of the city of Severon. With a name like Severon and very little explanation to the time frame of the book, I was at first convinced this story was not only fantasy but science fiction. It wasn’t until I read the author’s note (at the end, after finishing the book in it’s entirety) that I realized Severon was meant to be an 1890’s Parisian equivalent. Something got lost in translation, figuratively speaking.
Likewise, Pacton included real world names like Toulouse and Mucha when discussing poster artists whose work is often stolen for it’s one of a kind collector status, which lent a bit of confusion and complication that felt unnecessary to the story. Sybil and Esme live in the top of a clock tower in a made up city that contains real world artists, something that I have a hard time wrapping my mind around when it comes to necessity. Not enough of the pre-Fae exploration of TAU connected me to Paris in the late 1800s for the real world examples to make sense, Pacton could have made a more significant impact on the story by placing greater emphasis on the time frame and reality of the world Sybil and Esme live in, then trying to tie it to our world. She lost me there.
Spoilers Below
That aside, the Absinthe Underground itself was beautifully described and the subsequent adventure Sybil and Esme embark upon is quite endearing. I did feel, though, that there were several loose ends Pacton left untied; it’s unclear whether they were left untied for a reason or because they were simply overlooked in the editing process. However, one seemingly purposeful loose end does find Sybil and Esme’s adventure into Fae and back into the real world marred by a broken promise to free a human they encountered in Fae and help her find her way back through the door – I find the prospect of another book exciting, I can’t wait to see what Pacton does next! She left several threads throughout the story, dropped like leaves, and I wonder if she’ll pick the all back up in the upcoming book or if we’re simply left to speculate why a forest hag might be frightened of a kitten, whether Sybil’s father was a magician, and why he tried so hard to marry her off and turn her into a “proper” young woman before she ran away. There were small explanations planted throughout the book, but not enough to satisfy the weight each of the aforementioned interactions had on the plot.
TAU was a cute, low-ish stakes middle grade adventure book that has great potential for future iterations, I think there’s room for improvement, but that improvement could surely come in additional books. Overall, I found it easy to read and enjoyable, if not a little slow and sleepy at times.
Advice : If a low-stakes adventure through a fairy realm sounds up your alley, you’ll want to give this one a read when it debuts in February. If you like a bit of a nail biter or a faster paced adventure, this might not be your jam.
Book: The Queen of Days Author: Greta Kelly Publisher: Harper Voyager Year: 2023 Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
Synopsis : “For Balthazar and his family of thieves, stealing a statue during the annual celebration of the god Karan’s was just a good bit of fun…or a way to stick it to the governor who murdered his parents. And yeah, the small fortune in reward doesn’t hurt – even if his boss also hired the mysterious Queen of Days to join the crew as “the weapon of last resort…” Whatever that means. But Bal doesn’t know the ceremony isn’t simply the empty words and dusty tradition; it’s true magic. The kind of magic that rips open a portal for the god himself. Only the idol that Karan’s planned on using for a body now lies broken at the Queen of Days’ feet. And half of it is missing. With the aid of a lovable brawler, a society lady turned bomb maker, a disgraced soldier, and a time-eating demon, Bal must hunt down the missing half of the statue if he has any hope of earning his money, keeping his crew alive…and perhaps even saving all of humanity. But as his journey sends him racing through the city – and across realities – he discovers that doing all this might just doom the city.
The city be damned. It’s time to kill a god.”
Review :The Queen of Days bounces between two points of view; Balthazar (Bal), the leader of a crew of thieves called the Talion gang; and Tassel Janae (Tass), aka The Queen of Days. Bal and his crew have been commissioned by a mysterious patron for what’s supposed to be a simple smash and grab at a largely symbolic ceremony of ruling class elites within Bal’s home city of Cothis. We learn early on that Bal and the members of the Talion gang are not only related to each other, some through illegitimate affairs on Bal’s father’s behalf, but were once the children of the previous ruling elite of Cothis themselves – before Bal’s family was ousted (and killed) by the members of the city for a superstitious belief that they had angered the god of water, Karanis. Several years of drought will do that.
Though the Talion gang are a crew of experienced thieves with years of work under their belts, their patron has a singular request : they must hire and work with the Queen of Days, a masked mercenary with a reputation that precedes her. She’s rumored to be able to defy the laws of nature, to have extraordinary powers, and worst of all, to be a demon of the Nethersphere. She comes to the Talion gang rather mysteriously herself, all but proving the rumors true and creating fear and suspicion within the gang, particularly when she asks for payment in days off their lives rather than in coin. As Bal, Tass, and the rest of the crew work to layout a plan, they become increasingly fractured and disorganized and it takes the remainder of the book to bring them back together into a family unity again.
Spoilers Ahead
As the crew attempts their simple robbery (with a huge payout, mind you), they almost immediately come to find it isn’t quite as simple as they were promised. When the symbolic ceremony turns anything but, Tass takes matters into her own hands and smashes the statuette they were commissioned to steal. Realizing that the ceremony was designed to draw down the god Karanis from the Nethersphere, Tass acts without explanation, saving the youngest member of the Talion gang, Bal’s sister Mira, and escaping the ceremony. When Karanis arrives and finds his vessel destroyed, he takes possession of the current city’s ruler (and Bal’s father’s usurper) Paasch – a move that will not allow Karanis to exist within this world for long. He must find the statue, it must be restored, or he will wreak unstable and unmeasurable damage upon the world. What ensues is about 300 pages of Bal, Tass, and the crew working to figure out what’s really going on, where the pieces of the statue may have ended up, and how they can save themselves in the process.
I chose to give TQOD 3 stars because I found this book to be quite long and difficult to get through. I don’t actually mind an almost 400 page book, I enjoy a lengthy tale, particularly if it’s something I can’t stop thinking about, but that’s exactly the problem I had with this one. I’ve often said that it doesn’t take quality writing to create a compelling story, there have been many books I’ve found lacking when it came quality that kept me turning pages simply because I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen. Unfortunately, TQOD didn’t hit the mark for me. I found myself distinctly disconnected from the characters, I would put the book down and easily walk away, I found myself thinking of other things when I was reading and often had to go back and reread passages in order to figure out what was happening because I was so lacking connection. There were about 100 pages right at the end that found me turning pages to see what was going to happen, but sadly the 200 something pages that preceded it were so uninteresting enough that the final 100 weren’t enough to make me want to give this book a higher rating.
I will say, it was written quite well and utilized a trope many people thoroughly enjoy : found family. I found the world building to be fair, but not great, as I had a lot of unanswered questions about the world Kelly created. It didn’t help that I was so disconnected from the story, I think had I found more connection with the characters I might have found more connection with the world, but there still remain many unanswered questions about the world, what it looks like, and how it interacts with the characters, and why it does the way it does – for example, Kelly mentions a flood mythology that exists within this world, much like exists within our world. I have questions. Fortunately for readers, TQOD is very clearly the first of at least two books so there will be time and room for questions to be answered, but that does rely on readers finding their own connections that will compel them to continue reading, and of that I’m not sure they will.
Advice : If you enjoy fantasy, the found family trope, and don’t mind reading several hundred pages, you just might like this one. I personally found it lengthy and difficult to get through, but if you like a series, enjoy thievery and magic and gods who aren’t really gods, I think this would be worth the time.
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