Topherlytle
OK, not trying to be argumentative, but Red Rising just wasn’t as good as people told me it would be. That’s not to say it wasn’t enjoyable. It mostly was. On its own, though, Red Rising was… fine. A good read, but not the sci-fi masterpiece I was led to expect.
I went in hoping for a complex, exciting space opera, but instead it felt like I was reading a new Hunger Games book. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I love a hero’s journey, revenge arcs, and “from the bottom to the top” stories, but here, the beats felt really predictable from chapter to chapter.
It’s kind of like a Marvel movie: some are genuinely incredible, others are just decent, but even the weaker ones are still a fun time. Red Rising landed in that “pretty fun” category for me.
I liked a lot of the characters and I’m planning to complete the trilogy as most have told me that the second and third books are much better than the first.
All that being said, I don’t regret reading it and I can see why some people love it, but overall I was a bit let down.
3 maybe 3.5
OK, not trying to be argumentative, but Red Rising just wasn’t as good as people told me it would be. That’s not to say it wasn’t enjoyable. It mostly was. On its own, though, Red Rising was… fine. A good read, but not the sci-fi masterpiece I was led to expect.
I went in hoping for a complex, exciting space opera, but instead it felt like I was reading a new Hunger Games book. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I love a hero’s journey, revenge arcs, and “from the bottom to the top” stories, but here, the beats felt really predictable from chapter to chapter.
It’s kind of like a Marvel movie: some are genuinely incredible, others are just decent, but even the weaker ones are still a fun time. Red Rising landed in that “pretty fun” category for me.
I liked a lot of the characters and I’m planning to complete the trilogy as most have told me that the second and third books are much better than the first.
All that being said, I don’t regret reading it and I can see why some people love it, but overall I was a bit let down.
3 maybe 3.5
Hell Bent was a slog for me. I really enjoyed the first book and typically love Dark Academia, but this one nearly became a DNF, and I don’t DNF books. I know reading is subjective, but very little worked for me here. It felt less like Dark Academia and more like an adult version of Twilight.
The story isn’t without its standout moments, but I couldn’t connect with the central motivation for the journey to hell—I simply didn’t care. If there’s a third book, I doubt I’ll pick it up. Ninth House is still a fun read, but this sequel just didn’t do it for me.
I guess if you liked Twilight, this might be your thing. The author is clearly talented, but this story just wasn’t my bag.
Hell Bent was a slog for me. I really enjoyed the first book and typically love Dark Academia, but this one nearly became a DNF, and I don’t DNF books. I know reading is subjective, but very little worked for me here. It felt less like Dark Academia and more like an adult version of Twilight.
The story isn’t without its standout moments, but I couldn’t connect with the central motivation for the journey to hell—I simply didn’t care. If there’s a third book, I doubt I’ll pick it up. Ninth House is still a fun read, but this sequel just didn’t do it for me.
I guess if you liked Twilight, this might be your thing. The author is clearly talented, but this story just wasn’t my bag.
I had no idea the mystery-fantasy subgenre even existed, but I'm sure glad I found it. The Tainted Cup delivers a smart and engaging mystery wrapped in inventive worldbuilding, sharp irreverence, and a cast of truly memorable characters. The central contagion used as a plot device is both graphic and imaginative - disturbing in all the right ways. If you're a fan of fantasy, mystery, or stories that lean into the weird without losing their grip on good storytelling, this one is absolutely worth a read.
I had no idea the mystery-fantasy subgenre even existed, but I'm sure glad I found it. The Tainted Cup delivers a smart and engaging mystery wrapped in inventive worldbuilding, sharp irreverence, and a cast of truly memorable characters. The central contagion used as a plot device is both graphic and imaginative - disturbing in all the right ways. If you're a fan of fantasy, mystery, or stories that lean into the weird without losing their grip on good storytelling, this one is absolutely worth a read.
Read this book!
The Raven Scholar had everything, and then some. It's an epic fantasy that somehow feels shorter than its 600+ pages. While it's not perfect and could probably have been trimmed a bit, it has easily landed in my top five reads of the year.
This book is packed: a cast of richly drawn and complex characters, fully realized worldbuilding, palace intrigue, a slightly narcissistic raven, a murder mystery, an ongoing competition, real stakes, and best of all, humor. It's honestly so refreshing to read high fantasy that isn't afraid to weave in perfectly timed quips and ridiculous (yet entirely in-character) moments of levity.
Antonia Hodgson deftly uses each character's personality to drive the story forward, while keeping us grounded in the journey of the primary protagonist. Impressively, even the secondary characters are given meaningful arcs, making every thread feel vital to the larger narrative. It deepens your emotional investment in ways that feel organic and earned.
I hadn't even heard of this book until a visit to Blackwell's while I was in Oxford. A bookseller there told me it was his favorite recent fantasy release, describing it as something that hit all the right notes without being preachy, overly grim, or mind-numbingly slow. Now that I've read it, I couldn't agree more.
This book is a journey, one absolutely worth taking. I alternated between reading the physical book and listening to the audiobook, and I have to say: the narrator is phenomenal. She brings each character to life with distinct voices and emotional nuance.
No matter how you read it, if you're a fan of fantasy, The Raven Scholar is one to put on your shelf. 4.5 almost a 5.
Read this book!
The Raven Scholar had everything, and then some. It's an epic fantasy that somehow feels shorter than its 600+ pages. While it's not perfect and could probably have been trimmed a bit, it has easily landed in my top five reads of the year.
This book is packed: a cast of richly drawn and complex characters, fully realized worldbuilding, palace intrigue, a slightly narcissistic raven, a murder mystery, an ongoing competition, real stakes, and best of all, humor. It's honestly so refreshing to read high fantasy that isn't afraid to weave in perfectly timed quips and ridiculous (yet entirely in-character) moments of levity.
Antonia Hodgson deftly uses each character's personality to drive the story forward, while keeping us grounded in the journey of the primary protagonist. Impressively, even the secondary characters are given meaningful arcs, making every thread feel vital to the larger narrative. It deepens your emotional investment in ways that feel organic and earned.
I hadn't even heard of this book until a visit to Blackwell's while I was in Oxford. A bookseller there told me it was his favorite recent fantasy release, describing it as something that hit all the right notes without being preachy, overly grim, or mind-numbingly slow. Now that I've read it, I couldn't agree more.
This book is a journey, one absolutely worth taking. I alternated between reading the physical book and listening to the audiobook, and I have to say: the narrator is phenomenal. She brings each character to life with distinct voices and emotional nuance.
No matter how you read it, if you're a fan of fantasy, The Raven Scholar is one to put on your shelf. 4.5 almost a 5.
Small Things Like These is proof that a story doesn’t need many pages to be both thought-provoking and deeply engaging. The author writes with a deft hand, inviting the reader to dwell on the idea of kindness and the power of one person to make a difference, even when the systems in place seem designed to prevent it.
I found myself wishing the book were longer, as there’s so much more to explore in the lives of the characters we meet only briefly. Still, I understand that with a spare, quiet tale such as this, part of its strength lies in what is left unsaid. The brevity allows readers to linger, to imagine the fuller backstory for themselves, and to wrestle with how we might respond when confronted with clear injustice.
Small Things Like These is proof that a story doesn’t need many pages to be both thought-provoking and deeply engaging. The author writes with a deft hand, inviting the reader to dwell on the idea of kindness and the power of one person to make a difference, even when the systems in place seem designed to prevent it.
I found myself wishing the book were longer, as there’s so much more to explore in the lives of the characters we meet only briefly. Still, I understand that with a spare, quiet tale such as this, part of its strength lies in what is left unsaid. The brevity allows readers to linger, to imagine the fuller backstory for themselves, and to wrestle with how we might respond when confronted with clear injustice.
Small Things Like These is proof that a story doesn’t need many pages to be both thought-provoking and deeply engaging. The author writes with a deft hand, inviting the reader to dwell on the idea of kindness and the power of one person to make a difference, even when the systems in place seem designed to prevent it.
I found myself wishing the book were longer, as there’s so much more to explore in the lives of the characters we meet only briefly. Still, I understand that with a spare, quiet tale such as this, part of its strength lies in what is left unsaid. The brevity allows readers to linger, to imagine the fuller backstory for themselves, and to wrestle with how we might respond when confronted with clear injustice.
Small Things Like These is proof that a story doesn’t need many pages to be both thought-provoking and deeply engaging. The author writes with a deft hand, inviting the reader to dwell on the idea of kindness and the power of one person to make a difference, even when the systems in place seem designed to prevent it.
I found myself wishing the book were longer, as there’s so much more to explore in the lives of the characters we meet only briefly. Still, I understand that with a spare, quiet tale such as this, part of its strength lies in what is left unsaid. The brevity allows readers to linger, to imagine the fuller backstory for themselves, and to wrestle with how we might respond when confronted with clear injustice.
Look, when you pick up a Douglas Preston novel, you know what you’re in for: a dose of science, a dash of mystery, brisk pacing, decent character development, and an engaging plot. Extinction delivers on all counts. It carries echoes of Jurassic Park, but is still its own thing, rooted in real, cutting-edge science that, if I’m honest, is a little unsettling.
If you’re after deep, thought-provoking prose or literary flourishes, this isn’t that book. Extinction is the reading equivalent of a summer blockbuster or an armchair adventure. Go in with your expectations set accordingly, and you’re in for a good time.
Douglas Preston, and his frequent co-writer, Lincoln Child, are among my most read authors. Their novels don’t demand a lot of mental heavy lifting, but they always deliver a great story. Whether you’re trying to climb out of a reading slump or simply want a dose of pure escapism, their books are a good option.
Look, when you pick up a Douglas Preston novel, you know what you’re in for: a dose of science, a dash of mystery, brisk pacing, decent character development, and an engaging plot. Extinction delivers on all counts. It carries echoes of Jurassic Park, but is still its own thing, rooted in real, cutting-edge science that, if I’m honest, is a little unsettling.
If you’re after deep, thought-provoking prose or literary flourishes, this isn’t that book. Extinction is the reading equivalent of a summer blockbuster or an armchair adventure. Go in with your expectations set accordingly, and you’re in for a good time.
Douglas Preston, and his frequent co-writer, Lincoln Child, are among my most read authors. Their novels don’t demand a lot of mental heavy lifting, but they always deliver a great story. Whether you’re trying to climb out of a reading slump or simply want a dose of pure escapism, their books are a good option.
Small Things Like These is proof that a story doesn’t need many pages to be both thought-provoking and deeply engaging. The author writes with a deft hand, inviting the reader to dwell on the idea of kindness and the power of one person to make a difference, even when the systems in place seem designed to prevent it.
I found myself wishing the book were longer, as there’s so much more to explore in the lives of the characters we meet only briefly. Still, I understand that with a spare, quiet tale such as this, part of its strength lies in what is left unsaid. The brevity allows readers to linger, to imagine the fuller backstory for themselves, and to wrestle with how we might respond when confronted with clear injustice.
Small Things Like These is proof that a story doesn’t need many pages to be both thought-provoking and deeply engaging. The author writes with a deft hand, inviting the reader to dwell on the idea of kindness and the power of one person to make a difference, even when the systems in place seem designed to prevent it.
I found myself wishing the book were longer, as there’s so much more to explore in the lives of the characters we meet only briefly. Still, I understand that with a spare, quiet tale such as this, part of its strength lies in what is left unsaid. The brevity allows readers to linger, to imagine the fuller backstory for themselves, and to wrestle with how we might respond when confronted with clear injustice.
The Book of Doors was not what I expected, and that’s not a bad thing. It is more than simply an adventurous story; it’s a narrative laced with wonder, mystery, grief, fear, consequences, and even time travel. Gareth Brown blends the fantastical with the deeply human, inviting readers into a world where every turn of the page could lead to something beautiful, terrifying, or both.
There’s a darkness to this book, and at times the scenes are far more brutal than one might anticipate from such a whimsical title. Yet those moments serve their purpose, underscoring the stark contrast between good and evil in a way that feels both grounded and, at times, grotesque.
Brown should be proud. Writing a book is no small feat; getting it published and received well is an even greater challenge. He has managed all of that, delivering a debut that is unexpected, engaging, and memorable.
While there are moments I wish had been expanded upon, or that I’m still a bit confused about, I still had a great time. And, I so very wish, I could live in The Fox Library with my friends.
The Book of Doors was not what I expected, and that’s not a bad thing. It is more than simply an adventurous story; it’s a narrative laced with wonder, mystery, grief, fear, consequences, and even time travel. Gareth Brown blends the fantastical with the deeply human, inviting readers into a world where every turn of the page could lead to something beautiful, terrifying, or both.
There’s a darkness to this book, and at times the scenes are far more brutal than one might anticipate from such a whimsical title. Yet those moments serve their purpose, underscoring the stark contrast between good and evil in a way that feels both grounded and, at times, grotesque.
Brown should be proud. Writing a book is no small feat; getting it published and received well is an even greater challenge. He has managed all of that, delivering a debut that is unexpected, engaging, and memorable.
While there are moments I wish had been expanded upon, or that I’m still a bit confused about, I still had a great time. And, I so very wish, I could live in The Fox Library with my friends.
Please read this book. Jonathan Rosen has done something remarkable with The Best Minds. It is a grounded, well-researched, vulnerable, compassionate, and deeply uncomfortable investigation into the various threads that led his childhood best friend to a devastating tragedy.
This book is part memoir, part quest for understanding, and part compassionate indictment of good intentions gone wrong, and of the deeply broken systems surrounding mental health in America.
As heavy and complex as the subject matter is, Rosen has written something remarkably readable. Readers will find natural connecting points while also being invited to examine their own assumptions about mental health, privilege, personal freedom, academia, exploitation, grief, and a host of other complicated realities.
I believe this is the kind of book that lays bare our biases, especially in the black-and-white, win-or-lose ideological framework that seems to dominate U.S. discourse today. The Best Minds should challenge you, encourage you, and make you think more deeply. Perhaps most powerfully, Rosen gently invites readers to recognize their own complicity.
It’s easy to blame government, philosophy, religion, pop culture, opposing political party, or the media for the tragic realities surrounding mental health. But we often forget: we, as individuals, make up those institutions. The problem isn’t just “out there.” It’s also in us.
While the book specifically traces the path of one man’s descent into paranoid schizophrenia, the broader reality is one we all live with. Most of us know someone who struggles with mental illness. Many of us are navigating the tension, fear, and unknowns of it ourselves and as such know the burden that it can, at times, bring.
I’ll end with this: one of the most profound tensions Rosen explores, though never explicitly, is the razor-thin line between empowerment and enabling. The outcomes of the two are drastically different, yet they are often rooted in the same good intentions. At some point, if we care at all, we must be brave enough to examine where we’ve gone wrong and be willing to face the uncomfortable questions and realities we often try and shield ourselves from.
Please read this book. Jonathan Rosen has done something remarkable with The Best Minds. It is a grounded, well-researched, vulnerable, compassionate, and deeply uncomfortable investigation into the various threads that led his childhood best friend to a devastating tragedy.
This book is part memoir, part quest for understanding, and part compassionate indictment of good intentions gone wrong, and of the deeply broken systems surrounding mental health in America.
As heavy and complex as the subject matter is, Rosen has written something remarkably readable. Readers will find natural connecting points while also being invited to examine their own assumptions about mental health, privilege, personal freedom, academia, exploitation, grief, and a host of other complicated realities.
I believe this is the kind of book that lays bare our biases, especially in the black-and-white, win-or-lose ideological framework that seems to dominate U.S. discourse today. The Best Minds should challenge you, encourage you, and make you think more deeply. Perhaps most powerfully, Rosen gently invites readers to recognize their own complicity.
It’s easy to blame government, philosophy, religion, pop culture, opposing political party, or the media for the tragic realities surrounding mental health. But we often forget: we, as individuals, make up those institutions. The problem isn’t just “out there.” It’s also in us.
While the book specifically traces the path of one man’s descent into paranoid schizophrenia, the broader reality is one we all live with. Most of us know someone who struggles with mental illness. Many of us are navigating the tension, fear, and unknowns of it ourselves and as such know the burden that it can, at times, bring.
I’ll end with this: one of the most profound tensions Rosen explores, though never explicitly, is the razor-thin line between empowerment and enabling. The outcomes of the two are drastically different, yet they are often rooted in the same good intentions. At some point, if we care at all, we must be brave enough to examine where we’ve gone wrong and be willing to face the uncomfortable questions and realities we often try and shield ourselves from.
I'm not sure how to rate this one yet.
I'm not sure how to rate this one yet.
Finished my first reread of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and had forgotten just how much this book not only sets up for the future books, but also manages to weave together multiple mysteries with satisfying conclusions—all while expanding the lore, history, and depth of the wizarding world. You really begin to see the personalities and traits of each character start to shine as they deal with the good and the bad in themselves, their circumstances, and the people around them, all wrapped up in a magical parcel.
One of the more profound things Rowling accomplishes with the series—especially evident here—is navigating the surprising, emotional, and at times difficult transition we all experience from childhood to adulthood, while never losing sight of the wonder that surrounds us, no matter our age.
While I can't yet rank the books in order of favorites, one thing I can say is that Rowling really begins to hit her stride in this third book. Not taking anything away from the first two, but there's an almost lived-in quality to Prisoner of Azkaban that brings a deeper sense of satisfaction while reading. I loved it when I first read it in 1999, and I love it even more now.
Finished my first reread of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and had forgotten just how much this book not only sets up for the future books, but also manages to weave together multiple mysteries with satisfying conclusions—all while expanding the lore, history, and depth of the wizarding world. You really begin to see the personalities and traits of each character start to shine as they deal with the good and the bad in themselves, their circumstances, and the people around them, all wrapped up in a magical parcel.
One of the more profound things Rowling accomplishes with the series—especially evident here—is navigating the surprising, emotional, and at times difficult transition we all experience from childhood to adulthood, while never losing sight of the wonder that surrounds us, no matter our age.
While I can't yet rank the books in order of favorites, one thing I can say is that Rowling really begins to hit her stride in this third book. Not taking anything away from the first two, but there's an almost lived-in quality to Prisoner of Azkaban that brings a deeper sense of satisfaction while reading. I loved it when I first read it in 1999, and I love it even more now.
This one took me a good while to finish. Although I'm pretty sure I'm not the intended target audience, I ultimately found The Lost Bookshop to be rather charming. The book shines most when it leans into the love and mystery of books, and the unique hold they have on readers. There were enough twists and mostly compelling characters to keep me reading through to the end.
That said, I did struggle with the abundance of romantic tropes scattered throughout, and a few characters felt underdeveloped. Still, the core story was pleasant enough.
This one took me a good while to finish. Although I'm pretty sure I'm not the intended target audience, I ultimately found The Lost Bookshop to be rather charming. The book shines most when it leans into the love and mystery of books, and the unique hold they have on readers. There were enough twists and mostly compelling characters to keep me reading through to the end.
That said, I did struggle with the abundance of romantic tropes scattered throughout, and a few characters felt underdeveloped. Still, the core story was pleasant enough.
Cabinet of Curiosities is a fun and fascinating collection of curious tales and tidbits, ranging from the mysterious to the comical, the eerie, and the downright bizarre. I'm already a big fan of the podcast on which the book is based, as well as Aaron Mahnke's other work on Lore, so this book was a natural fit for me. It's perfect to keep on hand when you're not sure what you want to read but still want something intriguing. Each entry is short, engaging, and easy to jump into—making it a great companion for curious minds and casual readers alike
Cabinet of Curiosities is a fun and fascinating collection of curious tales and tidbits, ranging from the mysterious to the comical, the eerie, and the downright bizarre. I'm already a big fan of the podcast on which the book is based, as well as Aaron Mahnke's other work on Lore, so this book was a natural fit for me. It's perfect to keep on hand when you're not sure what you want to read but still want something intriguing. Each entry is short, engaging, and easy to jump into—making it a great companion for curious minds and casual readers alike
Ruthless Trust
One of the most formative books in my life. It has been a pleasure to revisit it after 20 years.
One of the most formative books in my life. It has been a pleasure to revisit it after 20 years.
2.5 Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries was... fine, I guess. Once again, I find myself realizing I probably wasn't the intended audience. It had a cozy feel and a few fun elements, but I was hoping for a more adventurous fantasy romp grounded in rich fairy folklore. Instead, I got a book that seemed to be reaching for Pride and Prejudice with faeries, aiming for that same wit and charm, but falling far short of that standard, weighed down by overly flowery language and a lack of narrative momentum.
It's not that the author lacks talent, she clearly has skill, but the book seems aimed at readers who aren't looking for much plot or substance, just an atmospheric tale to linger in. For some, that's exactly what they want. For me, it just didn't quite land.
I also think the primary protagonist is the worst.
2.5 Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries was... fine, I guess. Once again, I find myself realizing I probably wasn't the intended audience. It had a cozy feel and a few fun elements, but I was hoping for a more adventurous fantasy romp grounded in rich fairy folklore. Instead, I got a book that seemed to be reaching for Pride and Prejudice with faeries, aiming for that same wit and charm, but falling far short of that standard, weighed down by overly flowery language and a lack of narrative momentum.
It's not that the author lacks talent, she clearly has skill, but the book seems aimed at readers who aren't looking for much plot or substance, just an atmospheric tale to linger in. For some, that's exactly what they want. For me, it just didn't quite land.
I also think the primary protagonist is the worst.
Do I think the author is a gifted storyteller? Absolutely.
Is this sci-fi? No. This is Lit Fic that flirts with sci-fi.
Do I know how to rate this thing? Not really.
Do I recommend this book? I think so.
When I write reviews, I don't aim for objectivity, I respond subjectively. On an objective level, prose, plot, character development, Death of the Author is a solid. Okorafor's craftsmanship is clear. The structure is creative, the writing is (mostly) sharp, and the central narrative is compelling.
But subjectively? I struggled.
Okorafor has created a fully realized protagonist, but one so deeply selfish and self-serving that I found myself frequently frustrated. And yet, to her credit, I kept reading. That speaks volumes about Okorafor's talent. She pulls you in, even when you're mad at the protagonist. Honestly, the book-within-a-book (Rusted Robots) is something I'd read on its own.
Beyond the character's selfishness and the bordering-on-nihilistic tone, I also wrestled with some of the “interview” chapters. Very few added depth and complexity; most felt shoehorned in and disrupted the flow for me.
And then there's the ending. Oof. I really did not care for the ending. I respect the author's choices, but it didn't feel as satisfying or complete as the rest of the novel. It left me all kinds of meh.
So, where does that leave me?
I'd give Death of the Author a 3.5 for now. I plan to reread it next year and may adjust that rating. Regardless, Nnedi Okorafor is an immensely gifted writer, unafraid to explore the complexity of human nature, family ties, and personal ambition. The novel reflects the messiness of life. And while I personally wished for a bit more hope, humility, or gratitude in its pages, I recognize, some will simply continue to choose self over anything else.
Do I think the author is a gifted storyteller? Absolutely.
Is this sci-fi? No. This is Lit Fic that flirts with sci-fi.
Do I know how to rate this thing? Not really.
Do I recommend this book? I think so.
When I write reviews, I don't aim for objectivity, I respond subjectively. On an objective level, prose, plot, character development, Death of the Author is a solid. Okorafor's craftsmanship is clear. The structure is creative, the writing is (mostly) sharp, and the central narrative is compelling.
But subjectively? I struggled.
Okorafor has created a fully realized protagonist, but one so deeply selfish and self-serving that I found myself frequently frustrated. And yet, to her credit, I kept reading. That speaks volumes about Okorafor's talent. She pulls you in, even when you're mad at the protagonist. Honestly, the book-within-a-book (Rusted Robots) is something I'd read on its own.
Beyond the character's selfishness and the bordering-on-nihilistic tone, I also wrestled with some of the “interview” chapters. Very few added depth and complexity; most felt shoehorned in and disrupted the flow for me.
And then there's the ending. Oof. I really did not care for the ending. I respect the author's choices, but it didn't feel as satisfying or complete as the rest of the novel. It left me all kinds of meh.
So, where does that leave me?
I'd give Death of the Author a 3.5 for now. I plan to reread it next year and may adjust that rating. Regardless, Nnedi Okorafor is an immensely gifted writer, unafraid to explore the complexity of human nature, family ties, and personal ambition. The novel reflects the messiness of life. And while I personally wished for a bit more hope, humility, or gratitude in its pages, I recognize, some will simply continue to choose self over anything else.
4.5 - The Bewitching confirms that Silvia Moreno-Garcia is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors. Her latest novel is a wonderfully atmospheric and gothic read. Set across three distinct timelines, the story weaves an intriguing mystery grounded in both Mexican and American folklore.
The novel unfolds like a snowball rolling downhill, steadily building momentum, tension, and weight until it finally comes to a stop. While many of the reveals may be easy for readers to predict, I suspect that's intentional. The real strength of the book lies in the journey itself, the way the three storylines intertwine and evolve is what makes it so engaging.
That's not to say the mysteries are unimportant; they simply serve the story, rather than being the only thing you remember.
For those who haven't read Moreno-Garcia before, her writing is accessible, efficient, and visually compelling. Her command of gothic literature and horror feels fresh, grounded, and deeply immersive, never veering into camp or hopelessness..
If you like your stories a little gothic and a little spooky, you're going to enjoy this one.
4.5 - The Bewitching confirms that Silvia Moreno-Garcia is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors. Her latest novel is a wonderfully atmospheric and gothic read. Set across three distinct timelines, the story weaves an intriguing mystery grounded in both Mexican and American folklore.
The novel unfolds like a snowball rolling downhill, steadily building momentum, tension, and weight until it finally comes to a stop. While many of the reveals may be easy for readers to predict, I suspect that's intentional. The real strength of the book lies in the journey itself, the way the three storylines intertwine and evolve is what makes it so engaging.
That's not to say the mysteries are unimportant; they simply serve the story, rather than being the only thing you remember.
For those who haven't read Moreno-Garcia before, her writing is accessible, efficient, and visually compelling. Her command of gothic literature and horror feels fresh, grounded, and deeply immersive, never veering into camp or hopelessness..
If you like your stories a little gothic and a little spooky, you're going to enjoy this one.
Fun and comical novella that is pure escapism.
Fun and comical novella that is pure escapism.
Hell Bent was a slog for me. I really enjoyed the first book and typically love Dark Academia, but this one nearly became a DNF, and I don’t DNF books. I know reading is subjective, but very little worked for me here. It felt less like Dark Academia and more like an adult version of Twilight.
The story isn’t without its standout moments, but I couldn’t connect with the central motivation for the journey to hell—I simply didn’t care. If there’s a third book, I doubt I’ll pick it up. Ninth House is still a fun read, but this sequel just didn’t do it for me.
I guess if you liked Twilight, this might be your thing. The author is clearly talented, but this story just wasn’t my bag.
Hell Bent was a slog for me. I really enjoyed the first book and typically love Dark Academia, but this one nearly became a DNF, and I don’t DNF books. I know reading is subjective, but very little worked for me here. It felt less like Dark Academia and more like an adult version of Twilight.
The story isn’t without its standout moments, but I couldn’t connect with the central motivation for the journey to hell—I simply didn’t care. If there’s a third book, I doubt I’ll pick it up. Ninth House is still a fun read, but this sequel just didn’t do it for me.
I guess if you liked Twilight, this might be your thing. The author is clearly talented, but this story just wasn’t my bag.
I've wanted to read The Library Book ever since I first heard about its publication several years ago. Growing up in Southern California, I have vague childhood memories of the Los Angeles Central Library fire and the massive recovery effort that followed. Pair that with a lifelong love of reading, and this book seemed like a natural fit.
Which makes my disappointment all the more palpable.
It's not a bad book by any means, it's well-researched and well-written. But the execution didn't fully resonate with me. The narrative often felt unwieldy, as if the author tried to include too much, pulling the story in several directions at once.
The book is at its best when focused on the fire itself, the history of the Los Angeles Central Library, and the ensuing trial. Where it faltered, for me, was in its constant broadening of scope, covering general information about libraries, library struggles, and librarians. While those are interesting topics in their own right, here they felt shoehorned in, more like pontification than support for any form of central narrative. As a result, some moments that deserved deeper exploration were only briefly touched upon before the story moved on while others dragged on or completely stopped any form of narrative momentum.
I don't regret reading The Library Book. It simply wasn't what I thought, or hoped, it would be. 3.5
I've wanted to read The Library Book ever since I first heard about its publication several years ago. Growing up in Southern California, I have vague childhood memories of the Los Angeles Central Library fire and the massive recovery effort that followed. Pair that with a lifelong love of reading, and this book seemed like a natural fit.
Which makes my disappointment all the more palpable.
It's not a bad book by any means, it's well-researched and well-written. But the execution didn't fully resonate with me. The narrative often felt unwieldy, as if the author tried to include too much, pulling the story in several directions at once.
The book is at its best when focused on the fire itself, the history of the Los Angeles Central Library, and the ensuing trial. Where it faltered, for me, was in its constant broadening of scope, covering general information about libraries, library struggles, and librarians. While those are interesting topics in their own right, here they felt shoehorned in, more like pontification than support for any form of central narrative. As a result, some moments that deserved deeper exploration were only briefly touched upon before the story moved on while others dragged on or completely stopped any form of narrative momentum.
I don't regret reading The Library Book. It simply wasn't what I thought, or hoped, it would be. 3.5
Home Before Dark is haunted house comfort food. If Stephen King’s The Shining is a multi-course meal paired with fine wine, Home Before Dark is a 10-piece nugget meal with an ice-cold Coke from McDonald’s. And let’s be honest, sometimes, that’s exactly what you want.
The story offers enough twists and turns to keep your attention and is always barreling forward. If you're looking for complex characters with rich inner lives, you won’t find them here but that’s not necessarily a flaw. This book knows what it is and leans into it.
Are there eye roll moments, yes. A few plot mechanics, tropes, and some unnecessary TMI from father to daughter come to mind. However, it’s a solid haunted house romp with decent creepiness, a central mystery (that you’ll probably see coming), straightforward prose, and easy-to-digest escapism.
Read this if you're in the mood for something spooky that won't demand much from you as a reader. It’s fun, engaging enough, and a perfect pick as the nights start getting longer in the fall.
Home Before Dark is haunted house comfort food. If Stephen King’s The Shining is a multi-course meal paired with fine wine, Home Before Dark is a 10-piece nugget meal with an ice-cold Coke from McDonald’s. And let’s be honest, sometimes, that’s exactly what you want.
The story offers enough twists and turns to keep your attention and is always barreling forward. If you're looking for complex characters with rich inner lives, you won’t find them here but that’s not necessarily a flaw. This book knows what it is and leans into it.
Are there eye roll moments, yes. A few plot mechanics, tropes, and some unnecessary TMI from father to daughter come to mind. However, it’s a solid haunted house romp with decent creepiness, a central mystery (that you’ll probably see coming), straightforward prose, and easy-to-digest escapism.
Read this if you're in the mood for something spooky that won't demand much from you as a reader. It’s fun, engaging enough, and a perfect pick as the nights start getting longer in the fall.