In The Magicians by Lev Grossman, gloomy, disillusioned Quentin Coldwater is transported to a vaguely British magic school in Upstate New York called In The Magicians by Lev Grossman, gloomy, disillusioned Quentin Coldwater is transported to a vaguely British magic school in Upstate New York called Brakebills. Magic is a dry, complicated art, relying on minute details from the position of the moon to the contortion of the hands. In other words, it’s utterly tedious, nothing like the wondrous wish-fulfillment magic of the stories Quentin has read. In this story, no fantastical escape can pull Quentin from the grip of his own self-inflicted misery.
The Magicians would be significantly better if it allowed itself to stop being jaded on occasion. It fails at most points to be a compelling story because it reads like it exists to prove a point, almost like satire, not like something meant to be loved and cherished by a reader. There’s little to hold onto emotionally in this book. The friendships are shallow and dysfunctional, the magic dry, distant, and fatigued. To an extent, this is the intention, as The Magicians is about a person who can’t find wonder in anything, even the most wonderful things—but a story with all lows and no highs doesn’t encourage attachment. The Magicians is good when it focuses on original material and not just subversion. Subverting tropes at every turn is not original; it’s still derivative, and it risks becoming a gimmick. Even worse, it makes a tiring and uninspired story.
The Magicians is a tongue-in-cheek, gritty foil for the whimsical, fantastic magic schools we all know and love. However, it doesn’t feel like adult fantasy as intended, but “adultified” fantasy. It has drinking and drugs and excessive self-importance and philosophizing, but it doesn’t have meaningful relationships, character development, or layers of complexity.
It’s difficult to empathize with these characters, these very pretentious teenagers who are passively miserable and horrible to each other, who’ve unlocked the magic of the universe but never for a minute dream of doing anything greater with it. The characters are witty but superficial, stereotypical, and unchanging. In this case, the pitfall of making commentary by means of subversion is that the book fails to separate itself from the characters’ affectedness. At some point, it ceases to be satirical, succumbing to the pull of Quentin’s pseudo-profundity, and thus becomes insufferable.
Just as the characters don’t come across as real, neither does Brakebills. To me, the school feels like the set of a play, a front attempting to convince the viewer that a more complete world exists behind it, when it’s apparent that it hides only a curtain. A school is a place where characters grow up, make friends, fight, and change as people. Even though Quentin spends years at Brakebills, I don’t get the feeling that this changes him, or that he’s made any genuine connections.
After all these years, Quentin only learns enough about himself to realize that he’s the one making himself miserable, but his realizations never go deeper than that. His character gives the impression of existing to make this one point. Ultimately, this is a theme that doesn’t go anywhere. It’s quite obvious from the start that Quentin refuses to be optimistic, so when he’s called out for his attitude but never develops as a character, the whole book feels like a meandering ramble in Quentin’s psyche that doesn’t go beyond surface-level or affect anything about him. Quentin ends up in the same place as he was at the beginning, which is supremely unsatisfying.
However, some parts of this book are genuinely good. Like many other readers, I enjoyed the Antarctica adventure, and any scene with Alice was great. The concept of this novel is a clever idea. The progression of the plot is just escapism at increasingly extreme levels for Quentin. He tries to convince himself that he’ll finally be happy once another one of his wishes is fulfilled. Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t happen. The Magicians gets especially interesting in the final quarter, when threads from the beginning start to connect. When the writing is good, it’s clever and witty and easy to read. With more sincere and consistent storytelling, more earnest emotion paired with this cheeky writing style, The Magicians by Lev Grossman could be stellar. Unfortunately, it never quite reaches that level....more
Illborn by Daniel T. Jackson has potential but makes a lot of missteps on its way to attaining the epic, dark feel that it chases. The book reminds meIllborn by Daniel T. Jackson has potential but makes a lot of missteps on its way to attaining the epic, dark feel that it chases. The book reminds me of a fantasy soap opera that hasn’t aged well. It’s written in the same episodic style, with alternating chapters from different perspectives that each serve to introduce one plot twist or event. Also like an old soap opera, Illborn has one objectified character who gave me a persistent uncomfortable feeling from start to end.
This book follows four young adults in a grim medieval world who all dream of the same Gate and a hand that beckons them forward, into the golden light. Thereafter, they gain mysterious abilities of healing, warfare, seduction, and mind control. Although these new abilities bring them addictive power, they also catch the eye of the church, whose military force has only one goal: executing anyone labeled a heretic.
Having four points of view is a great way to show off your writing skills, especially by giving each of the four main characters unique voices to match their different stories. However, this opportunity was missed in Illborn. Allana, Arion, Leanna, and Corin all receive the same style of narration. They also speak the same way and use the same mannerisms (or lack thereof), which makes their perspectives feel nearly identical even though they are quite different from each other in terms of mood and plot.
The writing is not emotional enough in key moments considering the enormity and horror of everything happening to the characters. Feelings are consistently told instead of shown. Because each chapter has roughly the same pace, moments when readers should feel content and peaceful are rushed. The development of relationships among characters are revealed almost like in a Wikipedia article, for example: “By the time that several weeks had passed in the Academy, Arion had become close friends with his roommates.” Because of this, I could not grow attached to any of the side characters. Additionally, there is very little attempt to build the atmosphere of the different settings or to make the world feel lived-in and immersive. I think just a bit of this could have gone a long way. Every location feels transitory right now. On the positive side, the episodic nature of the chapters means the pacing is very good. It’s easy to keep reading this book. There is no extreme learning curve or overwhelming exposition.
Here we get into the characters… and one in particular who gave me the ick.
Allana is an eighteen-year-old whose supernatural power is lust, which plays out just as uncomfortably as you might expect. I’m not saying the author wrote her this way only as wish fulfillment or fan service. But I am saying this should have been thought through more. There were ways to make this not feel like objectification. Allana is not a great person herself, but villains aren’t interesting if they’re just archetypes, and villains can be objectified too even if they also do terrible things to other people.
Allana and her victims weren’t given enough respect from writer to character to pull off such a deeply uncomfortable plot. Allana’s motivation of survival is not written with enough complexity, emotion, or consideration to make a compelling character. She clearly has some internal conflict between wanting to survive and feeling bad at least momentarily about violating men’s autonomy, so why was this glossed over every time? The most promising part about Allana’s chapters was the question of morality in the face of self-preservation: how far can you go to save yourself, how many people can you hurt and abandon along the way until you’re in the wrong? There’s so much potential there, and I don’t think it was explored as deeply as it should have been. The book doesn’t have to apologize to the reader for discussing disturbing scenarios, but it should probably spend more time on the meat of the story—this internal conflict—and less on the seduction. That way Illborn would actually explore the character instead of peering at her from some remote, detached place occupied by the readers and writer. She’s never allowed to be more than this shallow depiction. Even when other characters have an emotional moment about her, it always comes back to how she looks, for example, “Her perfect physical form had been cut and bloodied.” The way she defeats her pursuers at the end is so ridiculous and compounds every other objectifying scene that preceded it. Imagine the most cringe-inducing scene you can based on the other information that I’ve given you about her character. That will probably be pretty close to what actually happens.
Another female character whom I was unsatisfied with was Agbeth, who is the wife of Corin, another POV character. His path has not yet connected with the paths of Arion, Allana, or Leanna, so I don’t know what role he will play in the larger plot yet. Corin is the “runt” in a remote clan eternally at war with another clan. It’s never explained why they keep battling each other. This is part of the point—why engage in senseless killing if no one ever gains anything?—but it’s also hard to believe that entire clans would wholeheartedly consent to slaughtering each other when there’s no convincing reason to keep doing so. Throughout Corin’s journey of exile and coming into his powers, Agbeth stays by his side. It’s difficult to articulate exactly what unsatisfied me about her character. She doesn’t have enough of her own personality; we never see that there is anything else going through her head except concern for Corin. Consequently, I thought she read as a wife who gets fridged repeatedly so he can rescue her and come into his full power. There’s nothing wrong with a person taking care of another person, but the complete lack of focus on any of Agbeth’s individuality makes it lean too close to fridging for my enjoyment. Her story is always used to push Corin to do something.
There isn’t much to say about Arion, the fourth POV character. He was the only main character who wasn’t strongly associated with a theme of the book. I was excited for his scenes at the military academy, because I love schools in fantasy, but that was summarized with as little detail as possible. He fought in a battle that took me by surprise because I wasn’t sure why it was happening.
I thought Leanna’s chapters were the most compelling out of the four main characters. I really liked reading about her—she didn’t rely on any of the gray morality that I thought was too shallow with Allana and Arion. If I read the sequel to Illborn, it will only be for Leanna. The final full chapter, which was written from her perspective, was probably the best chapter of the book. It managed to give me chills.
Leanna is the most well-adjusted of the four. She is kind, thoughtful, and trustworthy. She is the only one who’s achieved inner peace. Leanna is training to be a priestess, along with her best friend and tentative love interest Amyss. I wish their relationship had been developed by the author more. We aren’t shown much about Leanna’s feelings for Amyss, so the progression of their relationship honestly shocked me. I thought Leanna had no romantic interest in Amyss because that was never something she thought about. I actually felt a bit uneasy whenever Amyss tried to start something with Leanna because I thought Leanna hadn’t consented, which was heavily implied in the first scene of that kind.
Throughout the book, there’s a lot of fear and dread in Leanna’s chapters. This is especially effective because the first few chapters are so simple and pleasant. Later on, she has to confront the religious fanatics known as Aiduel’s Guards who pervade cities across the fantasy world, seeking heretics to burn and driving even the devout into timidity. They are the law: since they were purportedly chosen by Aiduel to purify heretics, anyone who opposes their tyrannical rule is automatically a heretic themselves.
For a book that focuses so much on religion, I wish more details were given about beliefs. The religion of Illborn is essentially medieval Christianity, and the novel relies on the reader’s possible familiarity with Christianity to fill in the blanks. I thought this backfired. The religion is not specific enough to be a nuanced commentary on medieval Christianity (warfare, zealotry, beliefs, control over society). However, since it isn’t distinguished enough from that religion, it fails to be convincing creatively either. Since the sequel is called Aiduel’s Sin, I anticipate that the author will address this issue and differentiate the world’s religion from Christianity more. Additionally, the larger plot centers around Aiduel, but readers know very little about the god, so it’s impossible to make educated predictions to guess where the series is going. There are very few hints for a book of this size about the question of why when it comes to the characters’ powers.
Unfortunately, I did not enjoy reading Illborn. It was not immersive or thrilling enough for me, especially since the characters stayed at arm’s length and the world felt only roughly sketched.
The Book of Gothel is the story of Haelewise, a girl shunned for her unnerving black eyes and “demonic” fainting episodes. Her mother had always been The Book of Gothel is the story of Haelewise, a girl shunned for her unnerving black eyes and “demonic” fainting episodes. Her mother had always been different, preferring herbs and fantastical stories to church and teachings of purity. But when Haelewise is forced to leave her village, torn apart from her family, she finds magic within her that makes her mother’s tales seem closer to reality than she originally believed.
This book didn’t need to be a Rapunzel retelling. Rapunzel herself was more of an afterthought, and if the name Gothel had been changed, I would have never thought of this as a Rapunzel retelling. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it was confusing to me since the book is definitely marketed as something it’s only loosely connected to.
I was never fully immersed in The Book of Gothel. The writing, while mystical at times, had a stiffness to it that prevented me from getting attached to any of the characters. While I did like Haelewise, I can’t say she stood out to me. The side characters and villains were also mostly unremarkable. Although I don’t think the plot was very complicated, somehow it was difficult to follow and felt convoluted and repetitive.
This novel has a soft magic system, and while I generally enjoy the enigmatic atmosphere that this sort of magic entails, it begins to get on my nerves when it is used as a crutch to get characters out of problems. For example, there is a heavy use of visions that tell Haelewise what to do when she gets into trouble.
This wasn’t a bad book, but it didn’t have any impact on me. I’m disappointed because Rapunzel is one of my favorite fairy tales, but I don’t think The Book of Gothel will stick with me.
The Stolen Heir is paradoxical: captivating and boring, magical and plain, purposeful and aimless. The best aspects were all related to Suren, who livThe Stolen Heir is paradoxical: captivating and boring, magical and plain, purposeful and aimless. The best aspects were all related to Suren, who lived through the darkest parts of the faerie world. Holly Black didn't shy away from the violence and brutality that Suren experienced. I didn't realize I was expecting the characters to escape certain horrible situations until the threats were actually carried out. Another one of the most interesting parts of the book was Suren's relationship with her unfamily—her human parents and sister.
I wasn't excited to see Oak as a teenager. He ended up being a standard male lead: apparently shallow, with layers that seem deep but are actually quite predictable. I still think of him as a toddler, even after finishing the book, which made reading The Stolen Heir kind of awkward. Also, I forgot he had hooves.
The plot twists in the final quarter were so thrilling. They almost made up for the meandering, directionless plot of the rest of the book. Many plot points felt random because I wasn't sure what Suren and Oak were supposed to be doing. The side characters were forgettable, especially Tiernan, who had no memorable characteristics. This was a letdown after the fascinating side characters of TFOTA.
Even though the first half of The Stolen Heir dragged, I ended up enjoying this book quite a bit. It was dramatic, dark, enchanting, and secretive enough to keep me hooked. I read it in a moving vehicle and it was so engrossing that it didn't even make me sick, and that counts for something.
The Grimrose Girls was disappointing. That’s the best way I can describe it. The characters were lukewarm, the plot was simplistic, and the fairy taleThe Grimrose Girls was disappointing. That’s the best way I can describe it. The characters were lukewarm, the plot was simplistic, and the fairy tale connections I was looking forward to failed to inspire any epiphanic moments for me.
This book was a very emotionless journey. The main characters’ arcs felt rushed and padded with filler that could have been removed in favor of making the plot more understandable. The most important parts of the story itself were never explained (for example, everything to do with magic, which everyone eventually accepted and moved on from without explanation). The somewhat vague plot twist makes less sense the more I think about it.
All the side characters existed only to give motivational speeches to the main characters or to die when it fit the plot. I couldn’t tell you anything about their traits or personal lives besides their roles in helping the MCs. For example, Svenja would show up randomly to say things that are supposed to be intriguing but made me roll my eyes aggressively. After her first encounter with Nani, where she led her to her room, she asked for a secret in exchange for being SO generous in that act of basic courtesy. I understand that really rich people act a lot differently, but the characters still need to feel like actual people, not walking plot devices.
The atmosphere fell short of the darkly magical vision I expected. There was an attempt at creating a mysterious and almost pretentiously philosophical aesthetic, but ultimately, it felt totally aimless. (See: Svenja.) Some books have esoteric dialogue with a purpose that adds to a backstory or develops a character’s trajectory. Some books have philosophical exchanges that build a haunting and alluring atmosphere successfully. This book… does not.
One of the major selling points for me about The Grimrose Girls was that there was supposed to be a really deep and meaningful friendship between the main characters. But I didn’t get that. They hardly communicated and acted cold and distant around each other most of the time. I know they were fighting a lot during the events of the book, but if I don’t have any context of how they act when their relationship is stable, how am I supposed to believe they even have this deep friendship? And when Nani joined the group, none of her on-page interactions with the others revolved around anything except the murder, so her sudden friendship with them wasn’t believable to me.
I have a couple of minor gripes that won’t really affect my rating but annoyed me anyway:
❃ Nani being Beauty from Beauty and the Beast doesn’t match to me. She loves books, but does she really? It’s only stated and not shown. She sees this giant library and walks right past it. Her connection to her own fairy tale feels like an afterthought. And also, if she’s Beauty, doesn’t that imply that Svenja, the one transgender character, is the Beast? That’s uncomfortable. ❃ Ella is a scholarship student, which is a big deal at Grimrose because everyone is filthy rich and privileged. But she doesn’t seem to have any plan for her future. I assume she worked really hard for this scholarship, so wouldn’t it align better with her character if she were the one taking all the electives and focusing on job opportunities? Especially since she wants to get away from her stepmother. It doesn’t make sense to have her just drift around with a vague plan to escape when she turns eighteen but no actual drive to accomplish that.
I would have really enjoyed The Grimrose Girls if a bit more time had been spent on developing the things that made it unique. I am unable to care about anything if it’s not developed enough to give me a reason to care. Otherwise the drama has no stakes. All of the elements are present that would make The Grimrose Girls exceptional. But I didn’t spend enough meaningful time with any of them.
There’s a line in “Not the Same Anymore” by The Strokes that always reminds me of this book: The child prisoner grows up to seek his enemy’s throat cuThere’s a line in “Not the Same Anymore” by The Strokes that always reminds me of this book: The child prisoner grows up to seek his enemy’s throat cut. This is the essence of Prince of Thorns: an exploration of how one Jorg Ancrath, after watching his family get brutally murdered in front of him, falls into the depths of his unchecked rage and becomes a Dostoevsky-style psychopath. It’s at once a psychological thriller, a frightening dystopia, a grimdark classic, and a fascinating character study.
Prince of Thorns can be disorienting. The story is told in a refreshingly nonlinear manner. Since it’s written in the first person with Jorg as a very limited narrator with tunnel vision, the scope of the rest of the Broken Empire is never clear. When we learn about some aspect of the politics, culture, or even the side characters, it is only because Jorg found it important enough to point out. We’re not even sure if certain characters are alive or not, since Jorg doesn’t care enough to check. While some characters may seem shallow and two-dimensional, this is because they are only seen from Jorg’s point of view, and he only sees people as things he can use. This sets the book apart from many other fantasy novels that followed, and helps establish Prince of Thorns as a haunting probe into the mind of a truly despicable person.
Jorg Ancrath is many things. He is distressingly hilarious. He is deeply disturbed. He is dangerously amoral. His often directionless rage and resentment is coupled with his heavy depression and despair, adding unexpected layers to his character. He often reveals a philosophical side, his burning love of knowledge peeking out from behind a brutish exterior. Make no mistake, though—he is a brute, a violent and unhinged psychopath. But he is also an abused child hiding a deep sadness and regret. His story is gripping and horrifying and unflinchingly bloody, pulling me in from the very first page.
Prince of Thorns is an iconic book with an undeniable legacy. The modern Crime and Punishment, the fantastical Clockwork Orange—it’s been called many things, but it is truly an original, genre-bending classic that has set the standard for all future grimdark novels.
In a world where girls who bleed gold are called impure demons and girls who bleed red are only valued for marriage, Deka has always felt like she doeIn a world where girls who bleed gold are called impure demons and girls who bleed red are only valued for marriage, Deka has always felt like she doesn’t belong. In her small-minded village, she faces racism wherever she shows her face. When she turns sixteen, she learns that her blood is gold, and she prepares for her death. But instead, she is taken to join an army of alaki, girls like her who cannot die. They are the only hope the empire has to stop the threat of the deathshrieks.
The Gilded Ones left me disappointed and unimpressed. I really appreciated the ideas behind this book—taking a stand against senseless hatred, banding with other victims to stop the heavily oppressive system—but the execution felt so flat.
The themes were laid out so simply without any subtlety, and they were often exaggerated to get the point across. Characters had dialogue that stated the problem, different characters had dialogue that stated the message. You don’t need to read between the lines for anything.
There is barely any worldbuilding. There’s an empire called Otera, which is roughly split between north, south, east, and west. Guess what the people of these four different cultures are called! Northerners, Southerners, Easterners, and Westerners.
I find it difficult to believe that almost all people in a giant empire are genuinely faithful to a single religion. Yes, it is mandated, but practically everyone truly believes in it anyway. Don’t you think someone would have noticed a problem with this system at some point? How do you get people of separate cultures with differing ideologies and ways of life to wholeheartedly agree with each other about something like “let’s kill all women with gold blood”? This aspect felt unrealistic to me.
Women are not allowed to do strenuous work because they can’t shed any blood before they turn sixteen, but I don’t think this is possible in any setting. For one thing, periods don’t always wait until the day of your sixteenth birthday. And then there are the given dangers of simply existing: tripping, brushing your hand against something jagged, biting your tongue, getting a nose bleed, etc. You can’t just not bleed for years. It’s bound to happen at some point.
None of the side characters were interesting to me. They lacked dimension. Either I couldn’t tell them apart or they were described in such a generic way that there was nothing for me to become attached to:
I miss her so much, miss her voice, her smell, the way she always used to smile whenever she saw me.
What have we learned here? She had a voice. She had a smell. She smiled at Deka. But what did her voice sound like? What was her smell? What did her smiles make Deka feel? This is a common problem that I noticed in the writing. I never felt engrossed in the world.
The side characters were static, with little to no development from the beginning to the end of the book. They were the minor moons and Deka was the planet. (I’m not comparing them to planets and Deka to the sun because they weren’t even that important.) The alaki formed a bond with each other that could have been special and inspirational if the other girls besides Deka had gotten any meaningful page time. I really did like how there was barely any girl-on-girl hate that seems to be so common in YA fantasy, though.
Keita changed his mind about the alaki immediately. He had a few deep conversations with Deka that weren’t even written out, just described with very little detail. Then suddenly, she was the most important person to him. I wish we could have seen their relationship build. Watching Keita slowly move past his prejudices would have been really meaningful. But instead we got a romance subplot that came out of nowhere and left no mark on me whatsoever.
The writing could be very juvenile at times, especially with the extremely grating repetition:
Please let me be pure, please let me be pure. Please let mine be red, please let mine be red. This isn’t the cellar… This isn’t the cellar… Please, please, please let me be able to endure what’s next. Please don’t match me with a cruel boy, or one who hates alaki… Please, please, please… Please, please, please don’t punish us for this. Please don’t ask me about what happened with the deathshrieks, please don’t ask me about what happened with the deathshrieks.
There are much better ways to get these points across than repeating the same word or phrase over and over again. I tolerated it the first time. I laughed the second time. And then I just got really annoyed.
This book was missing a spark, the breathless moment that I look for while reading, the attachment I form to the story or the characters. I liked the concept, but I saw the twist from a mile away. I didn’t end up caring about any of the characters or the romance. Eventually, I was just forcing myself to read it so I could finish it and move on. It wasn’t offensively bad and I see why people enjoy it, but The Gilded Ones didn’t hit the mark for me.
How cruel is it to promise a forbidden wlw romance and an internal struggle between a deep-seated yearning for equality and parents' sacrifice for priHow cruel is it to promise a forbidden wlw romance and an internal struggle between a deep-seated yearning for equality and parents' sacrifice for privilege hardly anyone else has the opportunity to reach for... and then not execute it in an interesting way? I wanted to scream, but I yawned instead.
Dani is the top student at the Medio School for Girls, where women are trained to either become a Primera or a Segunda, the two types of wives each man marries. Primeras run the household, while Segundas raise children. It's a problematic, misogynistic system that a rebellion called La Voz is determined to change. But Dani's parents sacrificed everything to help her gain the privilege of being the Primera for a wealthy politician, and she is torn between two choices: protecting and secretly courting Carmen (the Segunda she is technically married to but isn't allowed to be in a relationship with) and joining La Voz full-time, or being the Primera she was trained to be and staying faithful to Medio.
I wanted to love We Set the Dark on Fire so badly, but it disappointed me. It felt very juvenile. The rebellion was like a romanticized idea of a resistance, but was never explored beyond the surface level. Dani, despite being a "spy" for La Voz, did nothing but accidentally eavesdrop on important conversations. She doesn't do any spying, she's just really lucky and everyone else apparently doesn't care who hears the family secrets.
I was looking forward to the romance, but it lacked something. It progressed so quickly, I honestly thought I had skipped part of the book because Carmen and Dani went from being suspicious of each other to being in love with each other within thirty pages. There was a half-hearted attempt to continue that suspicion, but it ended up just being heavy-handed foreshadowing that led to a very obvious plot twist.
I loved the ideas behind this book. The exploration of privilege, the mythology, the feminism, maybe a glimpse into the grey morality of La Voz. But We Set the Dark on Fire felt very flat and forgettable instead.
2.5 stars
In a battle between two men trying to control her, she'd chosen herself.
Olivia Prior can see ghosts, shadows of the long-dead: a bony hand here, a half-formed face there. She carries her mother’s last written words with heOlivia Prior can see ghosts, shadows of the long-dead: a bony hand here, a half-formed face there. She carries her mother’s last written words with her: stay away from Gallant, her family’s manor. But when she’s given a chance to escape the bleak gray walls of her boarding school, she takes it. However, Gallant is hiding something even darker than the ghouls she sees around her, and Olivia is determined to solve this mystery.
Gallant left me feeling unsatisfied and indifferent. This book somehow managed to affect me in absolutely no noticeable way. I’m surprised by how detached I felt while reading this.
The relationships among the characters were very surface-level. Hannah and Edgar only existed to help Olivia. Matthew changed as the book went along, but not in a way that felt organic. He switched from being hostile to treasuring Olivia more than anyone else, and did so across the span of a few days. They didn’t even spend that much time together. I get that he was distant because he wanted to protect her, but the change was so abrupt that it felt shallow.
Even the ghouls didn’t have much of a purpose. They just… drifted around and occasionally acted protective of Olivia. I kept waiting for a twist that would tie everything together, but there was nothing. What you see in the synopsis is it. Gallant doesn’t feel complete. My original opinions of each character never changed because nothing happened that would make them change. It was so unsatisfying.
Everything seems so arbitrary and disconnected. There are rules about the Priors, rules about the wall (which is a strangely short wall, by the way—I’m still not sure what the purpose of a door is if you can just walk around the wall)... I don’t know why it has to be this way. I don’t know how the Prior ancestors fought what’s beyond the wall. It seems cheap never to give explicit reasons for why things are the way they are.
This may be personal preference, but nothing was creepy enough. Gallant was basically a regular house. The staff weren’t suspicious at all. Not even Matthew felt threatening, and he was supposed to be. Even the literal embodiment of Death didn’t feel creepy. What does this book want to be? A Gothic thriller? Because I’m not feeling that. It had the elements of classic Gothic-style fiction (my love!): a haunted house, a precocious child, mysterious paranormal activity, a dead parent’s journal… But they didn’t fit together somehow. The atmosphere was almost there, but I didn’t feel invested in any part of the book. The house wasn’t foreboding enough. The hints weren’t strong enough to actually form some meaningful connection by the end. The final confrontation was very underwhelming. I kept waiting for everything to come together, but the stakes felt incredibly low.
The writing was beautiful, though. So haunting and delicate and vivid. If only the quality of the content matched the quality of the prose.
The potential was breathtaking, but the execution was feeble.
Goodreads really needs to add half-stars, because two is too low and three is too high. EThe potential was breathtaking, but the execution was feeble.
Goodreads really needs to add half-stars, because two is too low and three is too high. Empire of Sand isn't bad. It just isn't good, either. I liked the writing. I liked the two main characters. I liked the concept. It had so much potential be something truly special and rare... but instead it was underwhelming and boring.
The main problem with Empire of Sand is how the length in no way reflects the actual content in the book. I was looking forward to haunting lore and wild beauty, but I got daiva that showed up three times despite being one of the things the book promises most. I wanted to see an intricate city with vibrant culture and panoramic dunes, but I found worldbuilding that was essentially just a regular city and a desert.
Amun and Mehr were good characters in a book that didn't have much going on. I wish the Empire had more of a role in their stories. There weren't enough things happening to Mehr and Amun. I still don't understand the magic system, the storms, the Maha, or the mystics. I feel like I fell asleep during the middle of an audiobook and woke up at the end, even though I read this as an ebook. The conflict was resolved in three pages after way too much buildup. I did enjoy a few of the chapters towards the end, and Mehr was a nice character because of her quiet intelligence.
2.5 stars
Buddy read with my fellow clown. We don't understand what the plot of this book is....more
If I wanted to learn how to walk, I would ask WikiHow.
Ah, how I’ve missed Poppy Ballfoyer and Mr. Golden Violates Consent. In this book, they revisitIf I wanted to learn how to walk, I would ask WikiHow.
Ah, how I’ve missed Poppy Ballfoyer and Mr. Golden Violates Consent. In this book, they revisit some of their favorite skills—talking about nothing, insisting the other is lying, and fawning over eyeballs.
My heart stammered as my eyes locked onto his, orbs a shade of stunning, cool amber.
“I’m doing that because I like lying on top of you.” “Well, I don’t,” I bit out. “That’s a lie.”
Kingdom of Flesh and Fire is basically 2000s YA paranormal Wattpad fiction.
How do I summarize the plot when there is no plot? I can’t believe it took an entire book for Poppy to get from Solis to Atlantia. A whole book. A 637-page book. Nothing happened. No character development, no action. Just Casteel and Poppy pretending to hate each other but then kissing every other page.
He smiled up at me, his eyes twin golden flames.
The world’s Twilight phase is finally dying, right? Don’t worry, Twihards. When the world needed Twilight the most, JLA appeared. She’ll save you with her buff vampires and buff werewolves and the biting of lips.
Casteel watched me sleep? Wait.
”That’s creepy,” I murmured. “The watching me while I sleep part.”
She also stole from ACOTAR (uh, like everything: mates, Atlantians, the characters’ personalities) and Shadowhunters (parabatai). Nothing—and I mean nothing—about this book is original.
It turned his eyes from cool amber to warm honey.
The worldbuilding is still just names of real places with a letter changed. Is this trying to be subtle? What’s the difference between a Craven and a vampry? Nobody knows. The language in this book is confusing, as well. It’s a fantasy book, but words like yeah, okay, weird, hey, sucks, lemonade, weirds me out, nope, and wanna are used.
The golden hue of his irises had chilled.
“Casteel Hawkethrone Da’Neer.” *chokes on my cocoa*
Even Rhysand It’s Your Choice But Not Really is better than Casteel. He’s seriously asking Poppy to marry him after forbidding her from leaving the house? And then he honestly believes he’s giving her a choice? He essentially says she’ll die if she doesn’t marry him. He keeps avoiding the question and ignoring her protests and basically forcing her into marriage. Is this a horror novel?
“It’s official,” Casteel said. “I’m going to have to kill him.” “What? Why?” “I don’t like the way he looks at you.” “How does he look at me?” “He looks at you like I do.”
Not Casteel pinning her to the bed and not letting go when she asks him to repeatedly. Not him killing someone for no reason and Poppy forgiving him because sHe BeTrAyEd yOu (fOr SoMeThiNg MiNiScULe) So It’S oKaY.
The intensity in those amber eyes held me captive.
Poppy and Casteel have this game they like to play called Pretend. No, they are not toddlers. Yes, they are adults. Mature adults? Debatable. But adults nonetheless.
They yell at each other and then Poppy asks, “Can we play pretend?” Then they suddenly tolerate each other enough to get married. Communication at its finest.
Speaking of communication, the queen of abusing ellipses and commas has returned! And she’s better than ever ...more
I'm upset that a book marketed as a feminist breakthrough only portrays feminism as something extremely violent, which is actually a harmful stereotypI'm upset that a book marketed as a feminist breakthrough only portrays feminism as something extremely violent, which is actually a harmful stereotype that this book, which prides itself on breaking stereotypes, perpetuates. It's supposed to be this revolutionary feminist book, but it just preserves misogynistic ideas under the guise of being empowering. For all of its sweeping talk about breaking barriers and supporting women (which I do love, just not paired with what actually happens in this book), it's surprisingly shallow. Every female character besides Zetian either a) dies, or b) is a vain, man-obsessed, conceited misogynist. I really dislike how Zetian is supposed to be some savior to open the eyes of the world, only to keep saying how much women annoy her and how much she hates being a woman. And she also kills a woman for the reason (one we're somehow supposed to support?) that she was protecting her family.
How come Zetian is the one who's a girlboss when she was raised the same way as all the other women and had no exposure to any different ideas? Realistically, she should have the same mindset, but she doesn't. Why? Additionally, Zetian is inconsistent because she claims to care about people's lives (specifically the lives of concubine-pilots), but kills innocent people without a hint of remorse. She's a hypocrite. I don't have a problem with reading about evil main characters. It's the poor writing that's the problem. She's so concerned about the lives of these women (which makes sense, I am too), but she completely disregards everyone else and then somehow thinks she's fit and has earned a position of power. This isn't some sort of nuance in Zetian—it's just lazy characterization.
Annihilate every center of power, so everything will collapse into chaos and people will have no choice but to obey the new most powerful thing—me.
Lovely.
Zetian justifies everything she does with her incredibly frustrating internal dialogue.
It is not me who is wrong. It's everyone else.
She tells herself she's going to save women, only to belittle, look down on, and kill women for whom she doesn't have a good first impression. This... is supposed to be empowering.
The entire reason the plot even started is because Zetian wanted revenge for the death of her Big Sister. But who is her sister? What is her sister like? The bond they have is described very, very briefly, but there's really no reason given for why Zetian wanted so badly to avenge her death.
The writing is juvenile. There are many mistakes. The plot twists are told through rhetorical questions. Action scenes are vague and confusing. The plot relies on deus ex machina and characters with no other purpose than to help the MCs. There's too much telling and not enough showing. The metaphors and descriptive writing are... odd:
Dread hollows through me. I smell a whiff of fear in the temperature-controlled air. A sharp breath lances up his nose.
I liked the creative resolution of the love triangle. That was a great twist and I appreciate how it bends tropes. But... I really didn't feel anything about the romance itself. There wasn't any buildup, there wasn't any real chemistry. Zetian is awful to Shimin for the entire book until the end when she kisses him despite having a bullet in her back and all of her ribs smashed. Convenient.
There were too many descriptions of hairstyles and basically no descriptions of the actual core conflict of this book and the reason it exists: Hunduns. What do they look like? Why are they fighting humans? What is the process of turning a Hundun into a Chrysalis? I'm not sure the author knows, really, because I got this feeling that this idea was never fleshed-out. There's a disproportionate lack of imagery when it comes to Hunduns.
This book has no nuance whatsoever. Subtlety does not exist. Zetian goes on long monologues telling us word for word the message of the book. She takes topics with great potential to be explored further and with more depth and punches them repeatedly, basically. She removes any profundity and pretends to be a savior while actually hurting women more than she helps them. She has no long term vision and it makes me want to cry. Zetian is deranged and delusional, but she's being promoted as someone we're supposed to support.
Feminism is cool. Feminism is great. I love it. It's awesome. The world needs it. But this is not feminism, and pretending it is just undermines the movement.
I was provided with a copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.
3.3 stars
༻✧༺
This was fluffy, wholesome goodness.
Ivan works I was provided with a copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.
3.3 stars
༻✧༺
This was fluffy, wholesome goodness.
Ivan works at Galaxsea, a huge corporation that mistreats animals for the entertainment of tourists. Winston is a painter and an activist. He has ambitious ideas, but when he discovers he's Bonded to Ivan, he is forced to figure out his new life.
The plot of this book revolves around an orca named Seymour and Winston's struggle to free him. Ivan isn't willing at first, but as they grow to know each other better, they change in big ways.
I wasn't crazy about the plot, mostly because of Winston and his rude friends. I didn't like how everyone acted like Ivan owed Winston something, like he had to give up his job to be back with Winston. It was kind of toxic, to be honest. You shouldn't have to give up your entire future just to date someone. The main conflict (Ivan working for Galaxsea and not being straight-up rude to a person in a position of power there) wasn't that big of a deal to me and everyone overreacted. Ivan was just protecting his job. If you want to survive, you can't be rude to your boss. And no one should expect you to be, even if the boss is a jerk. Winston and his mean friends shouldn't have held that against Ivan.
Only a small fraction of people are Bonded in this alternate world. Only the Bonded can see color. The worldbuilding was really intriguing and I liked how the activism was centered on the people who can see color and the struggles they face.
However, I have never been a fan of the whole "soulmates" trope, and this book didn't change my mind. If two characters are destined to be together, where's the conflict?? There's no tension or angst or slow-burn. And the romance didn't convince me. Winston said he loved Ivan after maybe five conversations and one date. It was excused because of the bond, but.... *unimpressed*
I did appreciate that the characters were flawed. They all had pretty big problems, but I think those could have been executed in a better way.
I also really liked the writing. It was dryly sarcastic; a tongue-in-cheek writing style that perfectly captured the personalities of the characters and the mood of the book.
Overall, I liked this book well enough, but I wasn't crazy about it, mostly because of the lackluster and sometimes-toxic romance.
This was probably my most anticipated read of 2021, and I was bitterly disappointed.
She Who Became the Sun reminds me of Mulan and The Poppy War, witThis was probably my most anticipated read of 2021, and I was bitterly disappointed.
She Who Became the Sun reminds me of Mulan and The Poppy War, with none of the humor of the former and none of the weight of the latter. Zhu was like Rin, if Rin had less ambition and less personality. There were two characters named Chaghan and Altan, which reminded me of TPW. And a certain character lost a hand, just like in that series... But maybe I'm looking too much into it.
The only character I liked was Ma. Her gentle acceptance of Zhu was touching, and her perspective was the most interesting one to me. The way Zhu finally felt like herself with Ma was beautiful.
Zhu, on the other hand, was a very boring character to follow. She was described by other reviewers as ambitious and power-hungry, vicious and merciless. But I didn't get that. The only time she felt ruthless or clever to me was at the monastery. I'm not sure if I read a different book, but to me, Zhu hardly deserved what she got in the end. She won a battle and all of a sudden, everyone loves her. She didn't do anything to prove herself worthy.
I did like how we never learned Zhu's real first name. That aspect of SWBTS reminded me of Rebecca. It was intriguing to read about how the Zhu of before was considered worthless and how the Zhu of after was something special. However, I didn't like much else about her character. She's let off the hook too quickly when she gets into trouble. Her problems are solved by plot convenience, and it felt far too easy to me.
Everything happened to quickly, in fact. The pacing was abysmal. Battles were over in a few pages, and I was left with whiplash, wondering what had just happened. And then there would be long stretches where nothing happened at all. The plot was directionless and aimless. The main goal felt murky to me. It was just confusing to read, overall. I felt like I was constantly missing something important, even when I wasn't.
The exploration of gender and sexuality was perhaps the best part of this book. But other than that, I was very disappointed. The characters were dull, the plot was weak, and the pacing was dreadful. I wanted so badly to rate this five stars, but I just couldn't.
2 stars
____
Uneven pacing, poorly developed plot, lackluster characters, and a healthy dose of convenience come together to make one of the most unsatisfying books I've read this year.
~ review to come ~
I was provided with an eARC of this book through NetGalley by Tor Books. Thank you!...more
A Court of Wings and Ruin is the third book in the ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas, and it's wild. The book starts with Feyre spying on the Spring CourA Court of Wings and Ruin is the third book in the ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas, and it's wild. The book starts with Feyre spying on the Spring Court for Rhys, pretending to be Tamlin's faithful wife again so she can undermine his Court from the inside.
I absolutely adored the first part of the book. I love how clever Feyre was, setting up the destruction of the Spring Court while no one knew what she was planning. The way she tricked Tamlin was gold.
After she returns to the Night Court, war breaks out between Hybern and Prythian. She goes on a quest to find the Cauldron, an ancient source of magic that might just stop the war. But not all of the Courts are willing to help her, and she will have to call on other magical creatures and forces to aid her in her search.
I didn't like this part of the book as much. It felt very aimless to me, and drawn out for so long that the plot points lost all meaning. I wasn't bored, exactly, but the plot just felt wrong to me, as if something were missing. It was pretty straightforward in the beginning—find the Cauldron, destroy Hybern—but then a bunch of subplots were introduced. Feyre had to make deals with spirits and gods, she had to avoid Hybern—it was just... a lot, and yet too little at the same time. What do I mean by "too little?" Well...
The pacing was dreadful. That doesn't mean I was bored. The plot built up far too quickly. Unlike in Throne of Glass, where the plot built gradually and climaxed in KoA, the plot here came out of nowhere. The villain, the King of Hybern, was so one-dimensional and uninteresting. His motives didn't make sense, the little history that was thrown in was so random and didn't help make him a better character at all, and his death was so unsatisfying. The character who killed him... well, I'm not going to spoil it, but I don't think they were the right character to do the job. See the spoilery section for more on that.
This series would have been better as just a regular romance, without all this... plot. I only really cared about the Inner Circle anyway. If it were just a faerie romance with great side characters and a found family, I would. Not. Care. That's all I want. Adding a whole epic plotline to the story just drags it down. I much preferred the more introspective ACOMAF.
I really, really loved Feyre in ACOMAF, and now? Not so much. She has too many powers. She can do everything the High Lords can and more. I love how she's the first High Lady, but honestly, she has every power and it gets annoying when she can do basically anything.
However, there are still times when I like Feyre more than Aelin. She's more mild and less overbearing, and I like that in a protagonist. She's persistent when she needs to be, and determined to learn. She understands the meaning of responsibility.
Rhys before the mating bond is superior to Rhys after the mating bond. For one, he was less protective in the beginning of ACOMAF versus ACOWAR. I'm tired of overprotective, aggressive male characters. I miss the Rhysand of ACOMAF, the one with a sharp sense of humor and patient respect for Feyre. He still has some of the traits he exhibited earlier, but they're dimmed in the face of his overpowering maleness that can sometimes turn into toxic masculinity. Thank you, next.
Many thanks to the publisher, who provided me with a free physical ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I am not particularly pleased witMany thanks to the publisher, who provided me with a free physical ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I am not particularly pleased with the outcome of this book. However, there were a lot of redeeming traits that made up for the shortcomings of Beneath the Keep.
For one, the ideas behind this book are excellent. In the author's introduction (see: below), she brings up a lot of great points about the divide between the rich and the poor, the casual cruelty in the way we treat people different from us, and the selfishness that runs our society. However, the execution of these ideas was mediocre at best. The introduction itself hit harder than the message of the book, which was a little murky to me. Was the focus on the massive pay gap? The quiet desperation of the helpless? The better world? The careful ignorance of the government?
I suppose it could be all of these things, but they were each touched on and then put to the side in a way that was wholly unsatisfying. I expected it to raise more questions than it actually did. Instead, it felt like a tired rehash of trite fantasy tropes.
Told from multiple points of view, Beneath the Keep is a sprawling tale of despair, salvation, and rebellion. The Blue Horizon is the driving force in this novel--a determined group of rebels focused on the better world and overthrowing the Queen.
Christian is a fighter trapped within the underground labyrinth called the Creche. Elyssa, Princess of the Tearling, is determined to bring about the better world as her mother treats her subjects with brutality. Niya is Elyssa's handmaiden and a Blue Horizon agent. Aislinn, a poor farmer living during a terrible drought, starts a rebellion that encompasses the entire Tearling.
Christian annoyed me to no end. He was such a hypocrite. He killed for a living, and yet he still judged and accused other people for doing what they could to survive. And later on, he became a Queen's Guard so easily, despite the fact that his loyalties are questionable and his job is suspicious.
Elyssa, while idiotic and impulsive at times, was my favorite character. She definitely degraded later on in the story, and I was more invested in her story towards the beginning. She had a very unique perspective and I'm glad she strayed away from the trope of "I won't kill this man, even if the fate of my kingdom depends on me doing my job," which is absolutely insufferable.
Niya and Aislinn were both rather bland. I didn't care for their points of view at all, as they fell into two very tired archetypes.
The problem with these characters is that they were lacking vitality. They were forgettable and empty, mostly due to the absence of any humor in the story. There were no lasting friendships, happy moments, unrestrained emotions. It was all very dry and serious.
Despite the lack of lightness in this book, the consequences never felt real here. It wasn't particularly dark. This book doesn't know what it wants to be. I think it would have been better if it chose a route--light or dark. It rests in this hazy realm between the two, but it really needed to define itself.
There were also a lot of questions that remained unanswered. I have not read The Queen of the Tearling, and maybe these questions were answered in that book, but the prequel doesn't really make itself clear in many places. For instance, where did Brenna come from? What was the purpose of her character, other than to serve as a roadblock for Elyssa? Why does Brenna need the sapphires? As a result, this book felt rather aimless and lacked direction.
That's not to say this book was bad. It was actually quite good. I was invested enough to keep reading even during the slower moments, and there's something about the Blue Horizon that strikes a chord in your heart. The message is relevant, and a lot of the things the leaders say are reminiscent of things government officials say today. I also noticed a Christ allegory related to Gareth, who acts as a Jesus-type figure (he even got crucified at the end).
Beneath the Keep is filled with great ideas that did not come to fruition. It's lacking a spark, something to bring it alive. But it's a solid prequel, and I'm sure that once I read The Queen of the Tearling my questions will be answered.
3 stars
____
Erika Johansen's introduction:
"...While the conflict in the Tearling is ostensibly between rich and poor, that's too simple a divide. The real conflict is, as it has ever been, between individual selfishness and community sacrifice, between empathy and I-got-mine. This is the great struggle of human history, played out over and over again, and we're still hard at it right now. In a world where "acceptable" solutions to problems now include militarizing bigotry and ripping children from their families for spite, I believe it has never been more important for fiction to discuss the importance of empathy and civic responsibility, and if I'm not sure I do it justice in this novel, I still hope you enjoy the effort. One thing I do know: I'm going to keep hammering on this particular key until we get it right."
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I really do think Vile the Gorgon had some good ideas, but... this just wasn't itI received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I really do think Vile the Gorgon had some good ideas, but... this just wasn't it.
Synopsis:
Queen Mary and King Aurelio are cursed. They must sacrifice their firstborn child to a beast called Vile, the gorgon, or he will wreak havoc on their kingdom, Aeris. But when their first child is born secretly, they can't bear to lose her, and are determined to save their baby and Aeris from Vile.
It felt almost like a first draft; very unpolished and aimless. The experience was like that of drifting, moving from insignificant event to insignificant event while emotionally detached. Most of the plot was filler and didn't advance at all. When the final face-off came, Mary made a leap of logic so random that I was surprised when it actually worked out.
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And then there are the plot holes. As I mentioned before, the King and Queen must sacrifice their firstborn daughter. However, they hide Mary's pregnancy so they don't have to kill their child. But when they have their second child, why don't the people encourage the sacrifice? To them, the new baby IS the first child, and yet no one questions their refusal to sacrifice her.
Worst of all, I didn't actually care about the characters. Mary felt very bland to me, and when an important character died, I was unaffected. Unfortunately, I wasn't very sympathetic to their cause. Risking the kingdom for a single baby? I just didn't really care. It doesn't help that the emotions were written out instead of showed, e.g. "she was scared," "she was nervous," "he was worried."
I'm assuming Aeris is a medieval-type kingdom based on the little worldbuilding that was there, but I found myself raising an eyebrow at the informal, modern idioms and slang.
Also, why do people cut their palms when they need blood for some ritual? Do you know how many nerve endings are in your hands?? Don't cut your palm. You'll be in immense pain. Slice open the back of your arm or something. Anything but your hands.
When I finished the very last page of Vicious, I felt a breathless exhilaration course through my body in a stream of anxious energy. I had an urge toWhen I finished the very last page of Vicious, I felt a breathless exhilaration course through my body in a stream of anxious energy. I had an urge to get up and pace with impatience. I started this book in the morning and finished it that same evening when I finally looked up from my book, shocked by the dark sky. It was like exiting a movie theater after watching a film. Those hours you spent in the blackness of the theater are not actually part of time. They feel like a slice of an alternate world.
And that's how I felt after finishing Vicious. Drained, but full of impatient adrenaline.
This book follows a man named Victor Vale, who is obsessed with revenge. Eli, his old best friend and classmate, is now his rival. They are both EOs - ExtraOrdinaries - with shocking capabilities that could doom or save them both.
What makes a villain? If Eli is evil and Victor is opposing him, does that make Victor a hero? Does his intention excuse his actions?
All the characters are villains in their own way. Eli because he betrayed his own kind. Victor because he's a cold-blooded murderer. They may have started out with good intentions, but in the end, they are both terrible people. The grey morality is stunning. It's not what you might expect and it creeps up on you.
The atmosphere - haunting, eerie, dark - is helped by the writing, which is vividly malicious and clever. Aided by the alternating timeline, which builds mystery, the careful crafting of Vicious is apparent.
And oh, how I love the characters. Eli is a crafty, unpredictable megalomaniac. Victor is a calculating, merciless killer. They are my cinnamon rolls and I must protect them. That sounds wrong.
I love how Schwab kept us guessing. I loved how she made me feel sympathy for both sides and both situations. In the end, I wasn't sure whose side I was on.
Vicious stayed with me for long after I finished. It haunts me.
When someone shoves a book in my face and tells me it's high fantasy, I expect a few things.
1. A thought-out plot 2. Worldbuilding 3. Characters with brWhen someone shoves a book in my face and tells me it's high fantasy, I expect a few things.
1. A thought-out plot 2. Worldbuilding 3. Characters with brains 4. Good writing
According to my checklist, this book is not a high fantasy. It's a.... *checks notes* hastily put-together, jumbled mess of trite tropes traditionally categorized as fantasy. So.
1. A thought-out plot
Princess Lia, terrified of being forced into an arranged marriage, runs away to live a peaceful life by the sea. Because no one will be able to track her. Not even the King's soldiers. And obviously no one in the peaceful town by the sea knows what the missing princess looks like. Nothing about this plan could go wrong. Nothing... at all...
Enter the Prince and the Assassin, who just happened to show up at the same peaceful town by the sea, *the convenience is painful* searching for Lia. The Prince isn't old or decrepit like she was afraid of - he's handsome (oh wow, who would have ever thought). Lo and behold, the Assassin isn't too bad to look at, either! Could... there be... a love triangle? Could... both men... fall in love with Lia? *suspense*
This is the plot up to 15%. And after that, here's what happens.
1. Lia does laundry 2. Lia chops onions 3. Lia bemoans her fate, because how could she possibly choose between the prince and the assassin? There are definitely no other, more important things to worry about.
I'm not joking. This is the entire plot after 15%. *sigh*
2. Worldbuilding
This is supposed to be fantasy. I think. But there's no worldbuilding; just a vague semblance of it.
What I'm given is a bunch of random terms shoved in my face. Of which I remember approximately zero. Because there's no context at all, just names. One might have thought a fantasy novel needed a world...
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3. Characters with brains
The characterization in this book is sooo sloppy. It's like a copy-paste of every other 2000s YA fantasy.
We have Lia, who is exactly like every protagonist out there. She risks the peace between nations because she's worried that the prince might be ugly. And she ruins a perfectly good family heirloom while doing it. She's so predictable that I can guess every thing that comes out of her mouth, and I'm alarmingly good at it.
We have Pauline, Lia's maid, who throws away her perfectly comfortable life with a perfectly kind man to run away with some teenager who has no idea what she's doing. And then she has the nerve to say that this man "will know where she is no matter where she goes," because he "knows her like no other." Excuse me?
We have the Assassin (I lowkey forgot his name), who is also the worst killer in the entire history of killers. He's supposed to murder Lia, because she's risking the peace between kingdoms. But the moment he looks into her ~gorgeous eyes,~ he's lost to lurve. And suddenly he doesn't want to kill her, because she's like no other girl he's ever met before... *gags*
We have the Prince (haha, forgot his name too), who is just... he doesn't exist to me. He has absolutely no personality. I don't even know what to say about him because he's as shallow as a puddle. There's no character complexity here.
4. Good writing
This was just alarmingly, painfully bad. Everything is told straight to my face. There's no depth. And the dialogue is horrible and cheesy and predictable.
I also found a number of plot holes. Lia and Pauline escape too easily, especially since two kingdoms are counting on them. They basically steal a horse and gallop away into the sunset.
And then they ride their horse through a stream to "conceal their tracks." *snorts* A horse is HEAVY. There is MUD at the bottom of a stream. And WATER PLANTS. Smashing water plants and stirring up mud and probably breaking your horse's leg by making it walk over stones is not going to help you at all. But Lia gets all happy because she's being so "clever." And Pauline's like "my lady, you are truly intelligent. So majestic."
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The descriptions were lazy, the pacing was so off, and their entire escape sequence was two pages long. It felt so hastily put-together, as if the editing team just fell asleep in the middle of reading this over. I don't blame them. I would be asleep, too.
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