charles
Going into Fourth Wing, I knew I wasn’t the target audience, but with all the buzz, I wanted to see what it was about. Early on, the book set up a lot of compelling elements—family mysteries, shifting alliances, a brutal training school, political tension, and, of course, dragons. It felt like there were so many directions the story could take.
But as things progressed, most of those threads took a backseat to Violet’s relationship with Xaden. It’s not the relationship itself that didn’t work for me, but rather the relentless focus on it—so much introspection, so much longing, with little to balance it out. The world and its complexities started to feel secondary, which was disappointing given how much potential was there.
That said, I absolutely see why this book resonates with so many readers. If you love highstakes romance with a fantasy backdrop, this delivers exactly that. I just personally wanted a broader view of the world rather than such a tight zoom-in on the relationship. Maybe the sequels will expand on that, but for now, I don’t think this series is for me.
I tore through Witchcraft for Wayward Girls in a day—it’s an incredibly compelling read, with layered characters and a story that’s both gripping and unsettling. Beyond the narrative itself, there’s some heavy thematic material here, especially when considered against the backdrop of current events, making it all the more resonant.
Interestingly, while this is marketed as horror, the horror elements are sporadic. There’s a slow build-up to anything supernatural, followed by a particularly graphic scene that seems to signal a full shift into horror—only for the novel to ease off the gas again for long stretches. It never loses momentum, but it reads more like dark fantasy with horror elements rather than a straight-up horror novel.
One of its greatest strengths is the immersive atmosphere. Hendrix paints a vivid picture of Wellwood House—you can practically feel the oppressive Florida heat and the claustrophobic unease of the girls’ situation. Without diving into spoilers, this is absolutely worth a read, both for the story itself and the broader conversations it invites.
Bennett dives straight into the action with A Drop of Corruption, picking up the pace much faster than The Tainted Cup. Ana is, unsurprisingly, the star—razor-sharp, unpredictable, and always five steps ahead. Din, while ever-present, doesn’t add much beyond observation, making him feel more like a passenger than a true partner.
The story moves briskly at first, though the middle drags a bit before ramping up again for a strong finish. Even so, the intrigue, sharp detective work, and unfolding mysteries of the Titans keep things engaging. With a intriguing finale that hints at even bigger things ahead, this is a solid sequel, and I'll be looking forward to the next entry.
“The House Across the Lake” by Riley Sager is an unfortunate disappointment that heavily relies on worn-out tropes and a lack of respect for its readers, falling short of expectations.
The protagonist, Casey Fletcher, a widowed actress hiding from a scandal, ensconces herself in her family's tranquil lakeside house in Vermont. From her isolated post, she voyeuristically observes the seemingly idyllic life of Tom and Katherine Royce, the glamorous couple living across the lake. The use of the trope of a single, alcoholic woman observing her neighbors unfolds predictably, diminishing any potential freshness in the narrative.
While the plot is initially intriguing when Casey saves Katherine from drowning and their friendship develops, it quickly becomes muddled in the commonplace. The tension Sager attempts to build around the flawed marriage of Katherine and Tom, and Katherine's subsequent disappearance, becomes diluted by the overused narrative framework and the excessive use of alcohol as a plot device.
Most jarring is the major twist introduced later in the book, which seems to show little regard for its readers. Rather than enhancing the story or providing a satisfying surprise, it comes across as a contrived shock value attempt that breaks the bond of trust between author and reader.
The House Across the Lake” relies too heavily on outdated narrative clichés, leaving little room for originality or respect for its readers. The underwhelming execution of what could have been an engrossing psychological suspense disappoints, leaving the reader dissatisfied.
Gabrielle Zevin's “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” attempts to delve into the complexities of friendship and trust through the story of Sam and Sadie, two young video game developers. Unfortunately, the book largely misses the mark, with their relationship becoming a hotbed of constant misunderstanding. This lack of believable progression hampers the narrative, making it difficult for the reader to become emotionally invested in their journey.
Adding to the novel's issues are a number of questionable stylistic choices. Avoiding spoilers, there are a couple of sections in the book where stylistic choices were made that come off as awkward and distracting, doing more harm to the narrative than good.
In conclusion, “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” struggles to connect with its readers due to its underdeveloped characters and weak narrative choices. While the novel explores the relationship between personal connections and creativity, its execution leaves much to be desired
Navigating the pages of “Let Him In” is akin to walking through an atmospheric, foggy moor—there's a tangible mystique and an unmistakable undercurrent of eeriness. The spectral ‘friend' and the chilling portrayal of children linger in the mind, conjuring images hard to shake off.
Yet, while the premise captivated, the prose and the narrative style didn't quite hit the mark for me. The writing, at times, felt dense, and the novel's intricate layers sometimes seemed more muddled than meticulously crafted. Glimpses into a richer backstory felt momentarily tantalizing but often untapped, lending a sense of fragmentation to the tale.
Still, with its chilling undertones and palpable tension, the book remains an enticing read. For those drawn to eerie tales that prompt reflection, it's certainly a journey to consider. But it's worth noting that its particular stylistic choices might leave some readers, like myself, pondering and ambivalent by the end.
“The Book of Doors” is a captivating tale that quickly transports readers from the mundane to the magical. The story follows Cassie's discovery of a mystical book that turns doors into portals to anywhere. This enchanting premise, however, swiftly transitions into a darker narrative, illustrating the dangers of such power.
While the book excels in creating a world of wonder, its early chapters rush through Cassie's pre-magical life and initial explorations with her friend Izzy. A slower, more detailed unfolding here would have added depth. The dialogue sometimes lacks fluidity, yet these moments don't significantly detract from the story's overall charm.
For fans of the genre, “The Book of Doors” offers an enjoyable blend of whimsy and caution, leaving readers longing for more exploration into its magical possibilities.
Mixing a dash of supernatural mischief with a sprinkle of sardonic wit, ‘The Witchstone' is a whirlwind adventure that entangles an unlikely duo in a race against time, blending the charm of urban fantasy with the thrill of a caper.
Laszlo, our demon protagonist, would rather be anywhere but at his day job as Hell's most lackadaisical Curse Keeper. You can think of him as your least favorite coworker, but with more fire and brimstone. Meanwhile, Maggie Drakeford, our young Curse Bearer, brings a dose of reality to the curse-laden fantasy, though she takes her time coming out of her narrative shell.
The Witchstone is a fun and very enjoyable read, but what is perhaps most interesting about it is not the story that it is, but the story that it could have been. It's incredibly easy to imagine the bones of this story being assembled into something completely different than its current incarnation, which, at its essence is mostly a caper of sorts. It could have just as easily been heavily focused on Laszlo and his job as a Curse Keeper resulting in a satire of Corporate America. It also could have been more focused as a quest from Maggie's perspective and her family's struggle with the curse. This isn't to say it would have been better served as something other than what it is, but as I reflect back, I can't help but wonder what those versions would have looked like. It's a credit to the author that the foundation is so solid that the story seemingly could have been taken in a number of directions with relative ease.
If I had one minor quibble, it would be with the character development, especially for Maggie. Towards the end, we get to see real glimpses of a standout character, but she never quite breaks through. Still, the book remains a delightful and quick romp through a world where managing curses is just another day at the office.
Thank you to NetGalley and Blackstone Publishing for the ARC.
If you've ever read Chuck Wendig before, you know exactly what you're signing up for: eerie settings, whip-smart dialogue, and moments so bizarre you can't help but mutter “What the actual...” under your breath. The Staircase in the Woods delivers all of this in spades, even if it doesn't quite hit the heights of some of Wendig's best work.
The premise—a mysterious staircase in the woods, a friend who vanished, and a decades-long obsession—has all the makings of a classic horror setup. And, true to form, Wendig doesn't shy away from diving headfirst into the unsettling and uncanny. The atmosphere is thick with unease, and the dialogue crackles with Wendig's signature sharpness, grounding the supernatural in the banter and bickering of old friends who have all grown into versions of themselves they're not entirely comfortable with.
Thematically, this isn't breaking new ground. You've got your usual suspects—trauma, guilt, the past haunting the present—but it's the way Wendig unpacks these ideas that makes it so engaging. Subtlety isn't his strong suit (and honestly, would we want it to be?), but there's something undeniably satisfying about the blunt-force way he tackles these well-worn themes. It's loud, it's messy, and it's a lot of fun.
The pacing occasionally wobbles, and while the twists and turns are thrilling, not all of them land with the same impact. But even when the story stumbles, it never loses its grip. You're pulled along, willingly or not, toward the final reveal, which, in true Wendig fashion, leaves you unsettled in the best way.
Bottom line, if you're a fan, you'll likely love it. If you're new to his work, this is a solid introduction to the wild and weird world of Chuck Wendig.
The Devil By Name is a compelling sequel that surpasses its predecessor in pacing and flow. While it sacrifices some of the punk charm that defined Fever House, it makes up for it with stronger character development and a more engaging narrative. Overall, it's gripping, well-crafted, and a must-read for those who enjoyed Fever House.
Navola masterfully blends intricate world-building with a gripping narrative, immersing readers in an Italy-esque city-state brimming with power struggles and hidden dangers. The setting, reminiscent of Renaissance Italy, adds authenticity and creates a world that is both familiar and unique.
The story's gradual pacing allows for deep immersion into the world of Navola. This slow build mirrors Davico's journey, drawing readers into the intricacies of political machinations and personal revelations. As the plot accelerates, both Davico and the reader are plunged into a whirlwind of intrigue, betrayal, and suspense.
The cast of characters is well-developed, each operating with their own hidden motivations and agendas. The dynamics of power, family loyalty, and ambition are explored with nuance, adding richness to the narrative.
Navola is a remarkable literary fantasy, offering a captivating blend of world-building, character development, and plot complexity. It is deeply engaging and thought-provoking, making it a must read.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC.
This was an absolute delight—a sprawling, epic quest that's both bonkers and brilliant. Ariel, a young boy in a wizard-ruled town, discovers a sentient AI artifact that becomes his guide and ally. This AI, with its vast historical knowledge, leads Ariel through a world brimming with talking animals, sentient weapons, and wizards.
Sloan masterfully blends science fiction and fantasy into a fast-paced, whimsical adventure. The vibrant cast and richly detailed universe keep you hooked from start to finish. Despite its grand scale, the book reads incredibly quickly, making it a real page-turner.
For fans of imaginative and heartwarming stories, “Moonbound” is a must-read.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC.
I've been craving a book that's a bit dark and twisted for a few weeks now, and after diving into ‘Horror Movie' by Paul Tremblay, all I can say is, be careful what you wish for. The novel spins a tale around a disturbing, supposedly cursed horror film from the '90s. Fast forward to the present day, and we follow the only surviving cast member as he grapples with the demons of the past and the remake of this eerie film.
Tremblay has clearly mastered the art of the unreliable narrator, keeping the reader constantly questioning the veracity of what's presented. We're perpetually at a disadvantage, navigating through twisted versions of the truth, with flashbacks intertwining the chaotic original shoot and the contemporary reboot. It's a narrative dance that keeps you on your toes, unsure of where reality ends and fiction begins.
While The Pallbearers Club was divisive because it didn't fit neatly into any one genre, ‘Horror Movie' has no such problem. However, to that end, it is lacking a touch of the depth of some of Tremblay's other works, among them, a real sense of character development. That said, this one will stick with me for a while (That ending...), even if it doesn't inspire as much of an emotional connection as something like The Pallbearers Club.
This was a perplexing blend of fantasy excellence and narrative meandering. Amongst its strengths are vivid characters and a world so richly painted that it almost leaps off the page. However, it occasionally gets lost in the details, leading to a pacing that alternates between exhilarating and laborious.
This dichotomy is the heart of the book's charm and its challenge. The engaging storyline is occasionally bogged down by worldbuilding, which, while impressive, can detract from the narrative drive. It leaves the reader torn between appreciating the detailed setting and yearning for more consistent momentum. That said, some may enjoy the truly lived-in feel that it provides.
“Incidents Around the House” masterfully intertwines chilling moments of dread with deep psychological horror and a touch of family drama. Through the innocent yet perceptive eyes of eight-year-old Bela, the story unfolds a haunting narrative, where the terror of “Other Mommy” is as palpable as the cracks in her family's facade.
The book excels in crafting scenes that resonate with pure terror, making your skin crawl at the mere thought of what lurks in the shadows. It's not just about the supernatural entity haunting Bela's family; it's the way this malevolence seeps into the family's very core, amplifying the existing tensions and fears.
The blend of otherworldly horror with the psychological and familial gives the novel a unique flavor.. While the pacing has its ups and downs, with some scenes feeling repetitive, these moments do not significantly detract from the story's overall impact.
“Incidents Around the House” is a compelling read for those who relish a story that combines the thrill of supernatural horror with the complexity of human relationships, all wrapped up in a blanket of dread.
This was a refreshing shift from her earlier work, offering a heist-driven narrative that's thrilling and well-crafted. Unlike the melodrama of Shadow and Bone, this novel focuses on action and intrigue, wrapped around a diverse cast of characters. The heist is the star, but the characters, each with their own depth and quirks, help bring the story to life. It's a fast-paced ride with enough twists to keep you engaged, though it avoids veering into shocking plot twists. It's a compact, yet satisfying adventure.
Someone You Can Build a Nest In is a literary chimera, stitching together romance, body horror, fantasy, and a smattering of sci-fi into a narrative as unconventional as its shapeshifting protagonist.
At its heart (Or is it?) is Shesheshen, a monster whose introspections on her next meal are as gruesome as they are fascinating. Wiswell doesn't shy away from the graphic; he dives headfirst into the visceral inner workings of his creature. The descriptions are lengthy, detailed, and not for the faint of heart. Yet, they're not gratuitous. Each gory detail serves the plot, highlighting a stark contrast between Shesheshen's monstrous nature and the unexpected humanity that emerges from her relationship with Homily.
The romance at the core of this tale is warm and genuine, an ironic twist considering it involves a monster contemplating devouring her lover. Wiswell navigates this complex dynamic with a deftly, ensuring the reader remains invested in their unconventional love story.
However, the book does, at times, stumble in its ambitious attempt to juggle its myriad elements. The landing isn't as solid as one might hope, leaving a sense of a narrative that, while intriguing, doesn't quite coalesce as seamlessly as it could have. However, these moments are more than made up for by the warmth and humanity that shine through.
This is not a book for everyone. Its graphic nature might deter some, but for those with a stomach for it, the book offers a unique reading experience. It's a story that, despite its flaws, leaves a lasting impression, with its better parts outweighing the sum of its whole.
This novel might not resonate with everyone, but for those it does, it has the potential to become a cult classic. Wiswell's bold storytelling and the poignant humanity he weaves into the narrative make this one that will not be soon forgotten.
Benjamin Stevenson's “Everyone on This Train is a Suspect” takes a clever, almost cheeky approach to the classic whodunit genre. Set against the backdrop of a writers' conference aboard the Ghan train, Stevenson crafts a narrative that's as self-aware as it is engaging.
Ernest Cunningham, our protagonist and a crime writer himself, finds himself amidst a bevy of fellow mystery writers when fiction turns to reality: a murder on the train. The concept is intriguing: authors who know all the tricks of the mystery trade now have to apply them in real life. It's a setup rife with potential for both humor and intrigue, and Stevenson delivers on that promise.
While the book's playful self-awareness often charms, it walks a fine line, at times bordering on cloying—a trait that some readers may find somewhat off-putting. Unlike its predecessor, “Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone,” which balanced the plot with deeper dives into character dynamics, this novel strips back much of that to focus squarely on the mystery. The result is a story that moves swiftly, though it does take its time to gather momentum.
While the book may not be as twist-laden as some might hope, it doesn't detract significantly from the enjoyment. Stevenson's writing is sharp, and the plot, though streamlined, is still engaging. The book's strength lies in its ability to not take itself too seriously while still delivering a satisfying mystery.
I enjoyed the journey Stevenson took me on but found myself yearning for a touch more depth and a bit less whimsy. The book is a delightful read, but for the next installment, a return to the heart and complexity of the first would be welcome. A little less reliance on its meta-nature and more fleshed-out characters could make Stevenson's next book not just a good mystery, but a great one.
Thank you to Netgalley and Mariner Books for the advance copy.
Foundryside plunges us straight into the heart of an exhilarating heist, showcasing Sancia Grado's prowess as an expert thief. Bennett masterfully crafts these opening scenes with a blend of engaging dialogue, a vibrant setting in Tevanne, and a magical system that is both original and captivating. This initial surge is thrilling, filled with the kind of energy and promise that makes you lean in, eager for more.
Bennett's creation of the scriving magic system is initially a gem, intricately detailed and fascinating. However, as the narrative unfolds, this complexity begins to weigh down the story. The pacing suffers, turning what started as a sprint into more of a stagger. It's as if the book itself is a scrived object that's been overcoded — initially impressive but increasingly cumbersome as more layers are added.
The characters, especially in the latter half, struggle to shine as brightly as the initial setup promised. The plot, which initially seemed focused and sharp, meanders, losing the clarity and pace that made the opening chapters so compelling. This inconsistency in storytelling is reflected in the overall experience of the book — a journey that begins with potential but gets lost in its own labyrinth of details.
In the concluding chapters, “Foundryside” makes a valiant attempt to recapture the initial allure of its opening scenes with a new heist. However, this late effort struggles to match the early excitement, primarily due to the pacing issues and complex expositions that have unfolded in between. The narrative, though rich with potential and innovative ideas, doesn't quite manage to maintain a steady grip on the reader's engagement throughout. This leads to a finale that, while aiming to echo the thrill of the beginning, doesn't fully deliver on the promise shown at the start. Foundryside is a book of contrasts, where the brilliance of its concept and the initial chapters shines brightly, but the journey through its pages reveals the challenges of sustaining that brilliance to the end.
This isn't just a book; it's a cautionary tale wrapped in a gripping narrative. Through the lives of Loretta Thurwar and Hamara “Hurricane Staxxx” Stacker, we're given a front-row seat to a future that feels unsettlingly within reach. The novel skillfully balances on the tightrope between a scathing critique of the prison-industrial complex and an intimate portrait of its characters.
Adjei-Brenyah's brilliance lies in his nuanced storytelling. The gladiator-style brutality, serves as more than just a dystopian backdrop; it's a stark amplification of our current societal trajectory. Yet, the novel avoids being preachy, grounding its narrative in the humanity of Thurwar and Staxxx. Their journey, fraught with moral quandaries and the fight for survival, is painted with a delicate brush, avoiding melodrama while delivering a powerful emotional impact.
Chain-Gang All-Stars is a reminder of the slippery slope between civilization and savagery. It's a thought-provoking, well-crafted novel that urges us to look at our world – and the direction we're headed – with a more critical eye.
Dipping your toes into Alderman's world feels like a sneak peek at a tech-driven tomorrow. It's eerily close to home, making you wonder—given all our tech advancements—where exactly are we headed? The story pulls you in two directions, sometimes feeling unsettling, and at other times, giving you a glimmer of hope.
The core narrative is the heartbeat of the book, exposing the desires and fallout of our tech titans. However, it can feel a bit like completing a puzzle, only to discover a heap of extra pieces leftover. You can see the image it's supposed to form, but you're left wondering about those odd pieces.
If you're expecting super deep, memorable characters, well, this might not be the book for that. The story's the star here. But that's okay because it's got enough juice to make you ponder, debate, and question. All in all, “The Future” takes you on a whirlwind journey. It might not be smooth sailing throughout, but it gets the gears in your head turning, and isn't that the point of a good read?
Thank you to Netgalley, the publisher, and the author for the ARC.
‘The Tainted Cup masterfully blends detective intrigue with fantasy, echoing the iconic dynamics of Holmes and Watson. Din, with his impeccable attention to detail, pairs brilliantly with the thoughtful Ana, making their interactions the narrative's highlight. While the tempo may wane slightly during Din's solo ventures, the overall charm remains intact.
Bennett's prose is crisp, adorned with rich imagery and authentic dialogue. His nuanced humor enriches the tale, ensuring a delightful read from start to finish.
The standout features of this novel are its impeccable pacing and intricate world-building. From the first page, readers are ensnared by the captivating universe Bennett crafts. At its heart, this book remains a murder mystery, even as hints of broader issues linger on the horizon. The narrative never loses its central focus, ensuring a tight, engaging plot.
‘The Tainted Cup' showcases Bennett's unparalleled storytelling, creating a realm that feels vast, yet intimately familiar. I am very much looking forward to the continuation of this enthralling series.
Thank you to NetGalley, Penguin Random House, and the author for the advance copy.
“Silver Nitrate” by Silvia Moreno-Garcia once again showcases her ability to weave a captivating tale, steeped in lost films, clandestine cults, and a thoroughly researched dive into the heart of Mexican cinema. If you're familiar with “Mexican Gothic,” you'll appreciate the measured pace of this novel. However, while “Mexican Gothic” was a slow burn leading to a satisfyingly explosive climax, “Silver Nitrate” can feel like a long fuse, keeping you eagerly anticipating a grand finale that seems always on the horizon.
Moreno-Garcia's knack for world-building is the shining star of this book. She breathes life into the '90s setting with her precise and evocative details, and her characters are well-rounded enough to carry the story. At times, the narrative might feel as though you're peering through a foggy window - the critical events are relayed secondhand or even thirdhand. Yet, it's worth noting that these accounts are brimming with rich details and painted with a beautiful prose that add depth to the narrative.
As “Silver Nitrate” moves towards its conclusion, it quickens its stride, bringing you closer to the long-awaited climax. The book may feel like it's been holding back, but when it finally lets go, the narrative gains a potent momentum. The indirect engagement and measured pacing might have stolen some of the narrative's potential vibrancy, but they don't undermine the book's strengths - it's still a masterfully written and painstakingly researched work. For readers who appreciate patient storytelling and are intrigued by the curious intersection of cinema and cults, this book will indeed hold a unique appeal.
Thank you to NetGalley, Del Rey, and the author for the advance copy.
This is an absolute standout that grips you with its rich narrative and complex characters. It's a book that masterfully intertwines the intricacies of language, magic, and the harsh realities of colonialism.
The story of Robin Swift, from Canton to the enigmatic halls of Oxford's Babel, is both captivating and thought-provoking. Kuang's storytelling is fearless, plunging into deep themes without losing the personal touch of her characters. The plot, at times dense, is balanced with moments of calm that allow the characters to develop and us as readers to unpack and consolidate what we've read before being swept up again in the narrative's intense pace.
The last third of the book is a rollercoaster, leading to an ending that is as inevitable as it is impactful. Kuang shows remarkable bravery in her storytelling, weaving a tale that is both devastating and deeply meaningful.
In short, Babel is not just a great read; it's an experience. It's a book that challenges, enlightens, and stays with you long after the last page.