Tag: review

It’s 1931 in Shanghai, and the stage is set for a new decade of intrigue.

Four years ago, Rosalind Lang was brought back from the brink of death, but the strange experiment that saved her also stopped her from sleeping and aging—and allows her to heal from any wound. In short, Rosalind cannot die. Now, desperate for redemption from her traitorous past, she uses her abilities as an assassin for her country.

Code name: Fortune.

But when the Japanese Imperial Army begins its invasion march, Rosalind’s mission pivots. A series of murders is causing unrest in Shanghai, and the Japanese are under suspicion. Rosalind’s new orders are to infiltrate foreign society and identify the culprits behind the terror plot before more of her people are killed.

To reduce suspicion, however, she must pose as the wife of another Nationalist spy, Orion Hong, and though Rosalind finds Orion’s cavalier attitude and playboy demeanor infuriating, she is willing to work with him for the greater good. But Orion has an agenda of his own, and Rosalind has secrets that she wants to keep buried. As they both attempt to unravel the conspiracy, the two spies soon find that there are deeper and more horrifying layers to this mystery than they ever imagined.

Publication details: 27 September 2022, by Hodder & Stoughton. Review copy provided by the publisher

Rating: 3.5/5

Review

As a fan of what Chloe Gong did with the Romeo and Juliet source material in These Violent Delights, I was very excited for another Shakespeare-inspired story from her, returning to the chaotic stage of Shanghai. Foul Lady Fortune shares a lot with Gong’s first duology, including a number of minor characters who become bigger players this time round, but it does feel quite different in tone, and I’m not quite sure it always played to Gong’s strengths.

One of Gong’s strengths is definitely ramping up the tension and intrigue, and I will say straight up that the last 20% of this book redeemed a rather slow start and threw open a lot of new questions which mean I will most likely read the sequel. Gong also continues to do a fantastic job of bringing a city alive, and it was easy to feel like I was right there on the streets of Shanghai with the main characters, particularly once the action starts unfolding.

But Foul Lady Fortune is also a more political book than its predecessors, and in trying to balance that with a strangers-to-lovers romance, I felt like this book tried to do too much and too little at the same time. There are a lot of various subplots related to Chinese history at the time that were only briefly explained, and didn’t always seem related to what was going on in the characters’ lives – all of the character join various causes at points, but it’s never really clear that any of them have any strength of conviction or meaningful reason to be on one side or another except that the plot demands it.

The political manoeuvring also comes at the expense of character growth. Rosalind and Orion never felt like sympathetic, emotionally complex characters like Roma and Juliette did (even accounting for the fact that Rosalind is meant to be a more stoic character). There is so much happening on the political front that they are given very little time to process what is happening to them or reflect on the development of their relationship, so their romantic moments felt rather unearned when they arrived. There’s also limited development for the numerous side characters, which is a shame, especially since I was looking forward to getting to know some of them, particularly Alisa and Celia, both of whom intrigued me in the original series.

I’m pretty sure I’ll pick up the sequel just to see what happens next, and I will definitely keep an eye out for Gong’s other works – particularly those that seem more romance-oriented – I just wish I hadn’t struggled with the first half of this instalment quite so much so I could give a more positive review overall.

For as long as Sigrid could remember, she’s wanted to become a mighty, fearless valkyrie. But without a winged mare, she’s a mere stable hand, left wondering who her parents were and why she’s so different. So when the Eye shows her a vision where she’s leading a valkyrie charge on the legendary eight-legged horse Sleipnir, she grabs the possibility of this greater destiny with both hands, refusing to let go.

Too bad that the only one who can help her get there is Mariam, an enemy valkyrie who begrudgingly agrees to lead her to Helheim but who certainly can’t be trusted―even if she does make Sigrid more than a little flustered. As they cross the nine worlds, battling night elves, riding sea serpents, and hurtling into fire to learn the truth about Sigrid’s birthright, an unexpected but powerful bond forms.

As her feelings for Mariam deepen into something fiery and undeniable, Fate has other plans for Sigrid. What happens when the one thing you think you were meant to do might end the nine worlds?

Publication details: 26 July 2022, by Entangled: Teen. Review copy provided by the publisher

Rating: 3/5

Review

The Valkyrie’s Daughter is a sapphic take on Norse mythology, focused around Sigrid – the only girl in the Valkyrie training camp without a flying horse, who is desperate to prove that she is worthy of something. I was excited to see what this book could do with the source material, and it does do a good job in that regard: the focus on valkyries in particular allowed for a relatively feminist take on the myths that gave us a wide variety of female characters and allowed them a chance to shine. There are also some fun horse-chase scenes that I really enjoyed.

However; overall, this book reminded me of a slightly aged up version of a Rick Riordan story. It would be a good fit for younger readers who are looking to make the transition from middle grade to young adult, or who have simply read all the available books in those series and are looking for more. But for an adult reader – or a more mature YA reader – there simply isn’t a lot to offer here. There is no nuance in Sigrid’s story – every emotion is telegraphed very explicitly on page – and the plot twists are all very predictable, regardless of whether the reader has any background in the original myths. It does hit the emotional beats well, especially in the back half of the book, when Sigrid’s family origins come into play, and the romance between Sigrid and Mariam is sufficiently sweet, but The Valkyrie’s Daughter isn’t quite the refreshing new addition to the genre I’d been hoping for.

Meet Alys, eldest daughter of a merchant, a merchant who foolishly plucks a rose from a briar as he flees from the home of a terrifying fay Beast and his seemingly icy sister. Now Alys must pay the price to save his life and allow the Beast, the once handsome Philippe, to pay court to her.

But Alys has never fallen in love with anyone; how can she love a Beast? The fairy Peronelle, waiting in the woods to see the culmination of her curse, is sure that she will fail. Yet, if she does, Philippe’s sister Grace and her beloved Eglantine, trapped in an enchanted briar in the garden, will pay a terrible price. Unless Alys can find another way…

Publication details: 14 April 2022, by Queen of Swords Press. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Rating: 3/5

Review

Beauty and the Beast isn’t my favourite fairytale, or my favourite Disney movie, but it’s a story that I’m always drawn to retellings of, because I’m fascinated by how authors choose to reinterpret the elements that are less palatable in the modern age. Thankfully, Jones delivers on that front, in a few different ways.

Knowing that this book featured an aromantic heroine, Alys, was a big drawcard of this book. The representation isn’t explicit – unsurprising given that this book is set in the 1700s, when such words weren’t available – but Alys does very conceptualise that she has never and will never feel romantic love for others, and that this doesn’t make her broken or defective, just different from her sisters, who cannot wait to marry. She stands true to this throughout her time with the Beast, even when pressured, and while I won’t spoil the ending, comes to realise that other, non-romantic relationships can be equally important. There’s also a highly plot-relevant sapphic relationship between the beast’s sister, Grace, and another character.

The other thing I found interesting about this book is how it deals with the Beast’s… well, beastly nature. Rather than trying to humanise him, this book clearly calls out abusive behaviour where it occurs (not just from the Beast but from others), and makes it clear that this is considered unacceptable. It’s not a huge theme of the book, but it’s a nice touch compared to the ham-fisted way the topic can sometimes be treated in retellings.

While I really valued the representation and themes in this book though, I have to acknowledge that it never really excited or surprised me – hence why I’m only giving it 3 stars. The narration is somewhat overwrought and rather distant; I felt like I was watching this story from a distance rather than truly experiencing Alys’ full emotional discoveries as she slowly came to understand herself better. Part of this is the decision to use multiple POVs to tell the story; some of the side characters reveal things to the audience before Alys works them out, which I felt undercut the experience of seeing her react to deceptions and betrayals the reader already knew about. The setting is also rather generic; this book is set in roughly 1700s France, like the original story, but it could have been set in any generic medieval place and it would have been hard to tell the difference.

All that said, I’m glad to see that the already diverse range of Beauty and the Beast retellings continues to be expanded, and it’s worth checking this book out – particularly if you’ve never read a book with an aromantic heroine before.

January Fifteenth—the day all Americans receive their annual Universal Basic Income payment.

For Hannah, a middle-aged mother, today is the anniversary of the day she took her two children and fled her abusive ex-wife.

For Janelle, a young, broke journalist, today is another mind-numbing day interviewing passersby about the very policy she once opposed.

For Olivia, a wealthy college freshman, today is “Waste Day”, when rich kids across the country compete to see who can most obscenely squander the government’s money.

For Sarah, a pregnant teen, today is the day she’ll journey alongside her sister-wives to pick up the payment­­s that undergird their community—and perhaps embark on a new journey altogether.

In this near-future science fiction novella by Nebula Award-winning author Rachel Swirsky, the fifteenth of January is another day of the status quo, and another chance at making lasting change.

Publication details: 14 June 2022, by Tordotcom. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Rating: 4/5

Review

I was after something short and punchy to read for a plane ride earlier this week, and January Fifteenth seemed like a good fit (with the added bonus of getting ahead on my ARCs). It mostly fit the bill as it read very quickly, though it does deal with plenty of tough topics – so some readers may be better off picking up something else for their flight.

January Fifteenth is less a novel and more a series of vignettes about the experiences people might have if a Universal Basic Income (UBI) scheme were to be introduced in the near-future United States. Three of the four stories are explicitly about marginalised or under-represented groups: a lesbian Jew who has survived domestic violence; a black woman and her transgender younger sister; a young Mormon girl who has suffered abuse within the church community.

Something I found interesting about Swirsky’s choice of perspectives is that a UBI program isn’t portrayed as a universally good thing for these people. In some cases the implementation of the program is still classist and racist, as certain recipients must jump through hoops to receive their money (similar to voter disenfranchisement in many countries); in other cases characters question whether giving everyone the same amount of money now is sufficient reparation for historical injustices. There is no easy answers to these questions, but Swirsky isn’t necessarily interested in providing them, simply getting the reader to think through some of the potential challenges we would face were we to ever implement such a system.

Swirsky also does an excellent job of creating a near-future America where things are mostly the same but kind of different: technologies have evolved (phones are now ‘wristers’), and the weather is unseasonably bad but not yet apocalyptic. But January Fifteenth also has the occasionally moment of perceptive wit and isn’t afraid to poke preemptive fun at what cultural trends might continue in the years to come, with a few throwaway moments (you’ll know them when you see them) that made me snort.

The vignette format won’t be for everyone, and it does have a few pitfalls; one section tries to do too much by introducing too many minor characters and unfortunately distracting from the key message in the process, and overall I found the ending a little too abrupt. It’s also less political than I expect some readers will want: the text never makes a decisive statement about whether or not introducing a UBI policy is a desirable choice, nor does it explicitly refute pro or anti UBI statements.

But there’s definitely a lot to chew on here, and I’ll be thinking about some of the questions raised for a while, so I highly recommend it on that front.

In Nadezra, peace is as tenuous as a single thread. The ruthless House Indestor has been destroyed, but darkness still weaves through the city’s filthy back alleys and jewel-bright gardens, seen by those who know where to look.

Derossi Vargo has always known. He has sacrificed more than anyone imagines to carve himself a position of power among the nobility, hiding a will of steel behind a velvet smile. He’ll be damned if he lets anyone threaten what he’s built.

Grey Serrado knows all too well. Bent under the yoke of too many burdens, he fights to protect the city’s most vulnerable. Sooner or later, that fight will demand more than he can give.

And Ren, daughter of no clan, knows best of all. Caught in a knot of lies, torn between her heritage and her aristocratic masquerade, she relies on her gift for reading pattern to survive. And it shows her the web of corruption that traps her city.

But all three have yet to discover just how far that web stretches. And in the end, it will take more than knives to cut themselves free…

Publication details: 9 December 2021, by Orbit. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Rating: 4.5/5

Review

The Mask of Mirrors was one of my favourite books of 2021 and I was thrilled to get an ARC of book #2 not long after I read it (even if I then delayed said review, since I was decidedly not in an epic fantasy mood for a few weeks).

Luckily, I loved The Liar’s Knot as much as The Mask of Mirrors, though it’s a very different book in some ways. Secondary world urban fantasy is something that I wish we saw more of, and this series does it wonderfully. Like the first book, the setting is a real highlight. There are clear Venetian inspirations, but none of it feels paint by the numbers, particularly given the various high fantasy concepts woven throughout, which we learn a lot more about in this book. Nadezra also feels like a lived-in place, as we get lots of little details about both the city and its various inhabitants that help build the big picture.

A side note, but I really like the way that ethnic tensions are seeded throughout the book. This series is not a full-blown war story between rival factions, but you can feel things bubbling along under the surface (with the occasional fiery outbreak), in a way that feels much deeper and more complex to unpick than just ‘culture A hates culture B for reasons’. It’s clear the authors have spent a lot of time thinking through their world-building in all its sociopolitical detail.

But while the world-building remains top-notch, it’s clear the characters have moved on from The Mask of Mirrors. By the end of book #1, Ren had tied herself up in all kinds of knots as she tried to maintain three seperate secret identities, and there was a sense of frantic energy as you knew it had to unravel… but when? The fun, and the tension, came from watching each of our characters trying to hide all of their various secrets, and digging themselves a new hole with every one they climbed out of. To their credit, the authors don’t try to keep this masquerade up past the point that it’s no longer believable – instead, the focus shifts to what it means for characters to trust each other and find common ground in pursuit of their various goals. The result is a much more intimate – but equally tense – sequel, as we see what choices our characters make armed with new information about each other.

I am very curious to see whether our characters’ tentative new bonds can weather the storm that’s inevitably coming in book #3. After all, all our characters – not just Ren – still have plenty of secrets to be revealed.

Jack Tamerlaine hasn’t stepped foot on Cadence in ten long years, content to study music at the mainland university. But when young girls start disappearing from the isle, Jack is summoned home to help find them. Enchantments run deep on Cadence: gossip is carried by the wind, plaid shawls can be as strong as armor, and the smallest cut of a knife can instill fathomless fear. The capricious spirits that rule the isle by fire, water, earth, and wind find mirth in the lives of the humans who call the land home. Adaira, heiress of the east and Jack’s childhood enemy, knows the spirits only answer to a bard’s music, and she hopes Jack can draw them forth by song, enticing them to return the missing girls.

As Jack and Adaira reluctantly work together, they find they make better allies than rivals as their partnership turns into something more. But with each passing song, it becomes apparent the trouble with the spirits is far more sinister than they first expected, and an older, darker secret about Cadence lurks beneath the surface, threatening to undo them all.

Publication details: 3 February 2022, by Harper Voyager. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Rating: 3/5

Review

A River Enchanted had some elements I really liked, and some that didn’t work for me at all, leaving me distinctly whelmed.

Firstly, I’m not sure the comp titles are the right ones, personally. This book lacks the romantic passion of a Sarah J. Maas book (and I say that as someone who aggressively DNF’d her books), and it’s much more whimsical and soft than either Uprooted or the The Witch’s Heart. I’d suggest it’s much closer to something like an adult version of the Folk of the Air series by Holly Black, though that’s not a perfect comparison either.

On the positive side, the setting is excellent, and Ross writes really nicely. Her prose is relatively straightforward but there’s a really strong sense of place, inspired by Scotland, with plenty of quaint cottages and a wild, rugged coastline. I also really liked the spirit-based magic system and the way that enchanted songs, clothing and weapons were incorporated into the storyline; magic, in Cadence, has a very clear price that must be weighed up. Some of the most compelling scenes involve Jack making choices about using his bardic talents to control the spirits, even as it begins to physically weaken him.

Additionally, the mystery of the missing children is well done. Some elements are rather predictable, but Ross slowly unravels the true extent of Jack and Adaira’s (the laird’s daughter) complicated family histories throughout the novel, and there is one twist I didn’t see coming that changes the whole dynamic in terms of the characters’ relationships. I’m on the fence about whether I’ll read the sequel, but the ending of this book does set up some rather interesting possibilities for what choices Jack and Adaira might make next in light of their newfound knowledge.

Where this book really fell down for me, however, is the key relationships and the pacing. Somehow, A River Enchanted managed to be both too short and too long. The first chapter tells us that Jack has a complicated relationship with the island of Cadence and with his mother, having been away at university on the mainland for ten years until he is summoned back. Within a chapter or two more, he’s already reconciled his feelings about all of these issues… and we still have 400 pages to go. Similarly, this book has been pitched as an ‘enemies to lovers romance’, but… it’s not that. Based on how their relationship is laid out in the book, Jack and Adaira used to lightly tease each other as kids before being separated for ten years; any bickering now they have reunited could be described as friendly banter at best, which very quickly gives way to romance.

There is another romance between the older adults, Sidra (the local healer) and Torin (the chief warrior of the East), but it’s all very one-note. Sidra is the dutiful mother and healer, and Torin is a stock-standard emotionally stunted hero, and while they make efforts to overcome these tropes during the book, it wasn’t very compelling to me. The most interesting element that has the potential to change their relationship (a particular secret Sidra is hiding) isn’t even brought into play in the first half of this duology.

All of this combined means we spend most of the book rehashing the same few scenes over and over, and drawing out other elements of the story unnecessarily. A River Enchanted is a story that ultimately could have been told in about 300-350 pages without losing a thing. It is Ross’ adult debut after several YA novels, so I’m hoping she felt the need to overcompensate a little on length and will find a more natural balance in later works.

There’s plenty to like here, and those who like vibes over plot may well find some of the book’s weaknesses to be strengths instead. Unfortunately this one just didn’t quite live up to my hopes.