What is there to say about the book that gave the world Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots' theory of socioeconomic unfairness? A masterpiece.

Beautifully written. I suspect I'd have rated it even higher if I had more than passing familiarity with The Great Gatsby.

Sparklingly original. A wonderful fresh take on the supernatural detective genre.

A fantastic return to form after a disappointing sophomore slump.

This was pure joy in action. The author's genuine love of science shone through in every scene; not just in the main character's scrappy solving-every-problem-through-applied-science approach to saving the universe, but in the way the author's imagination has run riot to create fantastic creatures and scenarios that are nonetheless well-reasoned and logical (what would an alien life form really look like? How would evolving on another world affect the basic building blocks of life?).

Fast-paced and action-packed, balanced with the occasional chemistry experiment for added spice. A cracking read and an all-around good time.

It's been at least a decade since I read through the Discworld books, but reintroducing myself to the Watch still feels like coming home. As much as I love Death and the witches, it's Carrot, Vimes, and Ankh-Morpork that have always truly meant Discworld to me. I've forgotten a lot over the years, but never that. (Or, for that matter, Vimes' “Boots” theory of economic unfairness.)

Not as strong as the first book for me, but it's hard to keep up the tension when the previously unseen, ominous shadowy threat has to make an appearance on stage. The crew of the White Raven were as great as the first time around; my disappointment was mainly in the ultimately petty and small-minded motivations of the Axiom faction revealed this time around. Still a great fast-paced read - I read it in one sitting - and I'm looking forward to the next one.

Space opera at its finest. Shades of Firefly crossed with The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet. The banter was razor sharp and witty, the characters a ragtag bunch of found-family misfits. Aliens who are actually alien, high-stakes plot, and lots of things blowing up. Fantastic - BYO popcorn.

DNF at around 40%. Disjointed, stilted, and impenetrable.

10/10 idea, 4/10 execution.

This was a disappointment. I understand the appeal of slow, introspective stories that examine and comment on humanity, but not when they're so slow that I spent the whole book waiting for something to happen.

The summary sounded so fascinating, but I just never managed to believe in Klara, or her actions. Even knowing that she was designed to be nothing but a perfect companion in all things, I find it hard to believe that she could maintain her ignorance and naivete about the world to the extent that she did. Her belief in the power of the Sun was just too much for me. You can't convince me that she wouldn't have been programmed with basic knowledge of human anatomy, human needs, and human culture - things that would have been useful if she needed to save her owner's life, or to improve her responsiveness and usefulness to her owners needs.

The prose was lovely, the story and world-building lacking. Averages out to a solid ‘Meh, OK' from me.

Diving into this massive series was a daunting prospect. At somewhere around forty to fifty hours of listening time per book, I was wary of drowning in bloated, unedited waffle.

Was I right? Not exactly. Could the books use a solid edit? Absolutely. While this type of sprawling fantasy epic lends itself to slow, extensive world-building, there are times when The Way of Kings veers too far into unnecessary exposition and bogs down the whole narrative. Sanderson also seems to have a great love of making all his characters do nothing but blush, flush, feel a chill, hesitate, or raise an eyebrow. To be fair, it may have been more noticeable because I was listening to an audiobook rather than reading text, but after the first half dozen repetitions of those same phrases it started to become jarring, taking me out of the story and reminding me that there was an author behind the scenes.

That said, the story that Sanderson is building here is fantastic. The mythology, social structures, magic and history are all wonderfully crafted to fit together in a fully realised world. The little touches, such as women's safehands, men's reading taboo, and how that impacts on day-to-day life and morality, help breathe life into the world without falling into the ‘different for the sake of different' trap.

A strong start to what I'm hoping will continue to be a fantastic series. This is epic fantasy of the best type; a story that earns the label on its merits, rather than simply by its length.

One of those unfortunate books that feels like nothing so much as an endless introduction.

What a great way to start the year. I somehow missed reading this when it first came out even though it caught my attention enough to buy (great premise! fantastic opening! eye-candy cover!), and it ended up sitting in my TBR pile for two years, beautiful and unappreciated.

While the idea of spies, secret poisoners and the ‘power beside the throne' is well-worn in fantasy novels, City of Lies managed to keep it fresh and interesting by throwing in racial tension, ancient mythology/religion, conspiracy, war, siege, murder, and mystery. I loved the fact that the characters had so much more depth than a lot you find in fantasy books (as if the presence of magic makes the cardboard people glossy enough not to matter). Jovan's anxiety especially felt claustrophobically familiar at times. Well written, well plotted, and just an all around good read for anyone who enjoys quality fantasy.

I'm now in the process of hunting down Hollow Empire to devour immediately.

A hot mess of a book, and not in a fun way. Ready Player One was a fun, fresh idea that resulted in a thoroughly enjoyable, gleefully nerdy romp through 80s pop culture and video games.

RP2 is a tired rehash of the same idea. The writing, never Ernest Cline's strongest point, is woeful to the point of seeming unedited. I was ready for it to be over when a sentence along the lines of “he angrily shouted at me in rage” popped up.

Player Two should have sat this one out.



After reading first The Binding, and now The Betrayals, I'm ready to declare Bridget Collins (or more likely: her publisher's marketing department) the master of the bait & switch.

Is The Betrayals a decent story? Sure.

Does it live up to the blurb on the back cover? Eh... not so much.

What makes this so frustrating for me is that the main appeal of these books was the core idea, the main thread of story promised in the summary. To have something close but not quite there feels like a tease. If, like me, the blurb makes you expect magic and mystery, you're likely to be disappointed.

Well. On the plus side, the artwork is pure cover porn. Gorgeous.

Visiting this universe is always such an interesting experience. I love the level of detail that goes into combining 60s technology and social structures with space flight and lunar colonisation. The way they work the maths in particular is just magical. While Nicole didn't quite speak to me the way Elma did as a protagonist, I still enjoyed her perspective and was drawn into her trials and triumphs.

A little heavy-handed with the metaphors (see: literal collars put on married women) but an interesting idea nonetheless. While Beatrice suffers a little from Mary-Sue syndrome, you can't help but be drawn into her world, and want to fight alongside her.

I liked that the romance was fairly understated, and always took a backseat to the main drive of the story and motivation of the characters. It's refreshing to read about women who are allowed to know their own minds, and choose to pursue their passions rather than partnering up.

I'd enjoy reading more about Beatrice and the women Magus of her world.

I feel like the feminist struggles, alternative historical fiction, and magical realism combined to create a Venn diagram with ‘books I'm guaranteed to love' at the centre. The beautiful, lyrical prose was just the icing on the five-star cake.

My one quibble was that I didn't particularly like any of the characters. I could see glimpses of the sympathy the author was trying to make me feel for them, but it never quite stuck. It wasn't enough to change it from a five-star for me, as the writing and the ideas behind the world were the major appeal. Readers who are primarily drawn to well-crafted characters may struggle to connect with the story.

A dreamlike story that's all about a journey rather than a destination. If you threw the Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, The Magician's Nephew and the Wayward Children books in a blender you'd probably come close to recreating the feel of diving into this book.

A short but enjoyable read, full of the best of fairy-tale strangeness, wordplay, and unforgiving dangers.

This was lovely. Piranesi was such a well drawn character, and seeing the world (halls) through his eyes gave an amazing perspective that made it seem completely alien. I'd love to know more about the sea and the floods, the statues, the House - all of it.

Although suffering from a mild case of Stereotypeitis (Eccentric Rich Guy - check. Flamboyant Gay Friend - check. Brooding Loner With Childhood Trauma - check), Tuesday Mooney still manages to deliver a lighthearted romp with plenty of snappy dialogue and a dash of mystery. The citywide scavenger hunt started by the dead billionaire has shades of Ready Player One, although in this book it's used more as a plot device than the main thrust of the narrative.

The sudden shift in tone at the end left me with a slight case of reading whiplash (the Deus Ex Machina is... ghosts are real?), and felt like it undermined a lot of the emotional journey we were shown in Tuesday's childhood. Suddenly it's not a story of her coming to terms with her loss and accepting that ‘voice' as part of what makes her successful at what she does; it's a straight up “I was right!” vindication. Which leads to so many questions about Vince, Dorry's mother...

All in all, despite the unevenness, I enjoyed reading this. I'd definitely read another book featuring Tuesday, especially if she brings along Dex and Dorr.

This was such a timely read for me. Had I picked this up last year, I think I would have found the premise of a pandemic making public gatherings permanently illegal, and of Rosemary's paralysing fear of shared spaces, a bit hard to swallow. But then, 2020. And of course now it barely seems like fiction; both the sweeping disease and ever-present threat of infection, and the easy acceptance of authoritarian regimes by a fearful, insular population.

But that's all backdrop. What really shines through here is music. The author's deep love for and knowledge of music comes out in the way it is used to carry the story, doing a lot of the emotional and plot heavy lifting. While this would still be a great read for anyone without a musical background, the use of music as metaphor in the prose adds a wonderful extra layer, such as a character's feelings being described as an unresolved chord progression, hanging on the subdominant.

I thoroughly enjoyed this, despite the unfortunate COVID-19 parallels.

I finished reading this less than a week ago and I'm already struggling to find anything much to say about it. If you graphed my enjoyment of this book you'd end up with a shape like a slide; it started relatively high, then steadily tapered off until it was almost touching the ground.

I think the narrative lost its way somewhere along the line. From a light, whimsical story, with hints of strangeness, into the dark, drowning hole of severe mental illness and grinding depression.

I forced myself to finish, hoping that it would end up being as charming and lovely as the cover and description implied, but was left cold and slightly irritated at the amount of time invested for such a poor payoff.

Meh.

Every time a new Sandman Slim book comes out I'm reminded how perfect MacLeod Andrews is as narrator. Hearing him enunciate “I barked some Hellion hoodoo” makes my life complete.

A slow, beautiful, dreamlike book. A simple but meaningful story wrapped in glittering prose, with generous lashings of rich descriptions, vibrant characters, and ethereal style.

One to savour.

Oh, I liked this. A lot. I know that inevitably any ‘magical school' theme means there will be Harry Potter comparisons, so let me just say - nope. If anything it's got more in common with the tone of ‘The Magicians' by Lev Grossman, or ‘Magic for Liars' by Sarah Gailey. This is not Hogwarts, and there's no kindly magical mentor coming to bestow wisdom or save your ass when you get into trouble.

The world building behind this book is incredible. The layers and depth woven around the concept of the Scholomance and the structure of the society are carefully considered, and it shows. I loved the way this was written, and the way it showed how easy it is for just about anything to become normalised over time. Reasons and history get forgotten, time turns them into tradition, and after a while no-one questions why things are the way they are. The graduation survival rate is in the single figures? OK, let's just throw more people in there to up the chances of any one kid surviving, rather than addressing the monstrous root cause of the problem.

Also, El is just fantastically sassy in that scrappy underdog way, and I enjoyed the second-hand stress of wondering whether she was about to get eaten every time she opened a door or walked down a hallway.

Not a magical school I'd ever want to visit in person, but one that I thoroughly enjoyed reading about. The fact that this book is labelled #1 of a series makes me very happy; although it stands alone as a complete story, I'd love to read more about the fascinating world Naomi Novik has created here.