Roo

Rating: 3.5 stars

This was my first foray into John Gwynne novels, and I was pulled in by the clear references to Biblical angels and demons in a secondary world fantasy setting. As I delved deeper in, the mashup of mythological influences seems to be a little Norse, with giants and wyrms, alongside the Biblical, which was unexpected, but I did enjoy.

My feelings for this book are... amorphous, is perhaps the best word for it. I left the book feeling like we had just been through an extended prologue. You can argue that any first book in a series is just that, but for what is given as the blurb, it felt a lot like we were arranging the chess pieces for the game, rather than actually experiencing the match between these two destined figures. By the end, I could definitely see why we were given these scenes, but the downside to this is that I also felt whilst reading the book for a good half of it - which, should be noted, is about three hundred pages - were just a waiting game for something to happen.

We follow a series of point of views, ranging from a young boy on the cusp of becoming a man, a series of warriors, a young woman, an outlaw and an advisor, all of which intersect at points with other points of view. Though it's not the huge array of POVs that I've read in the City of Last Chances, the names are thick and fast, and it can leave some confusion in the opening chapters of who you are reading - the young nobleman who's not welcome at home because his mother died in childbirth with him, or the young nobleman who's not welcome at home because his cousin has a petty grudge that's growing alarmingly more dangerous as they get older? It's not helped either by the fact that many of these characters are scattered across the map, and it certainly felt like I couldn't find half the places mentioned on said map to orientate myself with who was where (and then who was travelling where).

Additionally, most of the POVs are of a similar type. This is no warrior, wizard, rogue, cleric combo in this book. Instead, Gwynne clearly loves his warriors, and uses them to set the Banished Lands of the Faithful and the Fallen as a grim, deadly place that is well steeped in violence. But, he also uses them in such a way that hammers home certain ideas as well - that violence should be bound to honour and certain codes of conduct, setting the stage for a grand good versus evil conflict that also talks about how we, as people, can choose good and evil through small actions too.

However.

Though I am aware that Gwynne is a male author, and therefore may not have felt comfortable writing a large array of female characters, it also feels telling that the one female POV we have, largely tends to focus on the arc of another POV character, rather than her own. She stands, largely, to be a witness to scenes that motivate the men around her and inform of grand events about another POV character. While some other characters do also do some aspect of witnessing in service to the overarching plot in their POV, it feels most egregious with Cywen, because she largely lacks her own individual plot. She exists to serve another character, whereas other “witness” characters as I might call them, such as the two nobleborn warriors, have their own motivations about finding a way and place in a world where their homes have rejected them. Cywen feels largely... forgotten, even by her own family members, unless it serves a dramatic point.

There are other complaints I have too. John Gwynne is writing a more classical tale, and so the roles are quite stark. The good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, but there was a moment, a good say a hundred and fifty pages, where there was an honest to God ambiguity as the two figures of prophecy. They are revealed as figures of interest for supernatural forces, but without the knowledge of who is who. But quickly, it becomes very apparent which falls on which side and which believes - willingly or not - a lie. I would have loved if Gwynne had allowed that ambiguity to hold a little more, to make me question and flip back and forth over who was the Bright Star and who the Black Sun, perhaps even over the course of several books. Instead, by halfway through, I knew who it was, and could not be convinced away from that opinion. All that followed only strengthened that conviction entirely, until I was actually confirmed correct. While the knowledge of this did, in some ways, strengthen a future arc for a POV character, I still feel like there was a missed opportunity to deepen the characterisation of some characters by having that hovering question of who was who. And if there is that deeper theme in the book of even small actions having the capability to be good or evil, it could have deepened that too.

Additionally, the prose is sparse. True, this becomes something to personal taste, but I was begging Gwynne for not even purple prose, but the smallest hint of lilac involved. Some artistry and flair, an evocative descriptor - sometimes, there is a fragment of it, but Gwynne likes to hold back. Sometimes, sparseness in prose can hit like a fist to the gut with its sheer, devastating simplicity, but mostly I personally felt that it lead the narrative to feel a little lacking. However, this was Gwynne's debut. I felt the action scenes were good, which is not something that all writers can get right, and I recognise that there could be improvement.

Lastly, don't put in a random small chapter of lore at the start - not as the prologue mind you, but the second chapter - and then never again, because that makes it clear it is lazy shorthand for your info dumping. I feel, we, as readers, allow this kind of short hand when it is a prologue, but once that narrative kicks in, I get a lot less forgiving for awkward wedged in attempts to explain world lore. A few more of those chapters interspersed, telling me of the Scourging, of Giants, of the Ben-Elim, of the magical items crafted from a fallen star and why they are so important to this world, would have worked wonders to make that chapter not stand out as starkly as it did - and given we have a named character who is a loremaster, they could have been tales from Heb for easy integration. I had the same feeling with the flashbacks in One Dark Window, which were a few at the start of the book, and then never again - it becomes a sledgehammer of info dumping, and if you don't follow that through, it just sticks out. Interweaving it through the narrative helps to bind it into the story. It will always stand out, but at least it is not alone and becomes an expected part of the rhythm and flow of the book. To once again reference City of Last Chances, the mosaic chapters, (where the POV shifted from a close third singular person to an omniscient third person that floated above and focused in on many characters at that same time in the city of Ilmar) stood out on first introduction, but then became a great way to see how all the different plot threads and POVs were intermingling. I didn't mind the difference in narration and wondered soon when I would get that next update on how everything was slowly weaving together. Similarly, I would have loved extra peeks into the world lore.

Largely, I left the book feeling like I had a good time with a few caveats. I'm intrigued where the plot goes, but there are areas where I wish it would improve too. If we're playing a tale of good and evil, don't try to remain ambiguous to the reader for a hundred or so pages, even if you are leaving it ambiguous to the character. If you're going to write female characters, do not use them simply to witness things about your male characters - treat them as you would another character, and give them, also, some kind of narrative, a journey and a destination. And please, add a touch of purple into the prose if possible. When playing with angels and demons, those that fell from grace, where the land bears the marks of Scourging from an actual god, these things should require metaphor in order to try and fully comprehend what has happened or the grace and power involved in them. Simple, plain words should not adequately do the job of description. Sparseness is fine, when pared with appropriate flair, and I hope Gwynne learns the balance between the two.

So I will continue on. I'm not offended by the characters, but there are some issues with execution that I truly hope at the teething problems of a debut author. Follow up books I've heard improve, which lends credence to this idea.

Rating: 4.5 Stars

And we're back with the Palleseen sway, this time as part of their advancing army on their quest to extend their Perfection across the entire world. But, for a novel of war, we're not on the frontlines as a soldier, but instead in the front lines hospital tent, as part of an experimental group that defies ordinary rules of Pal doctrine of Perfection in service of the greater good that includes a character from the first book, Yasnic (or Maric Jack as he comes to be called here), and the hodge podge others with an ability to heal.

Ultimately, what you get is a book that ruminates on war, and specifically the violence of it. The lives lost, the callousness of forward momentum, the cost paid in the blood and ability of those lower down on the food chain by those orders sent from up high, and even how anything can be twisted into weapons by those who have a mind to do so. This is a bloody book, where the opening chapter calls the hospital tent “Hell” so convincingly that I was, for a moment, truly thinking that there was a portal to Hell on this frontline and the soldiers of the Palleseen army were being tended to by demons. Admittedly, this particular series has Hell and demons both, so it was certainly possible, but it almost hits further when you realise that though the name is not literal, it might as well be.

The flaws from City of Last Chances - notably the many rotating POVs and flurry of information that comes at you thick and fast - are much reduced here. The cast is smaller, and more concerned with the field hospital specifically, so it gives you more chance to get acquainted with the names and used to them. It's easier to parse, basically. The characters aren't always great, in fact, most of them would be villains in some other story, but as it is, these are your protagonists, and in the shadows of the Pal army, you are still rooting for them, because they are lesser evils than the ones ordering them to do greater damage. Unlike Ilmar, which we left with a lot of unexplored mysteries, this book does better to wrap itself into a neater conclusion. Not quite a full ending, but a satisfactory one that left me feeling even a little hopeful for the world, for just a short period of time.

I devoured this book, and I loved the magic and the cruelty on display, being displayed exactly as cruel as it is. There is not a held punch here, you feel the injustice and the pain and torment. That's not to say that there wasn't some flaws. Some aspects I did take a little double look at it. For example, Yasnic develops a new relationship, but I didn't necessarily buy the strength of his feeling from the scenes I was shown, not to the breadth that they actually changed him. Similarly, there's a character called Banders, who has a surprising connection to another smaller character, to which I felt was slightly all too convenient. Explainable, yes, but perhaps, not quite as easy to swallow as it was meant to be. But for all that, I enjoyed the crap out of this book. I wonder if we will see any of these characters again in future novels, and though the answer is probably no, that does sadden me, because I enjoyed them.

In all, once again, a hell of a book, with strange magic, a world brimming with ideas, and a core that examines the full horror of war and trying to survive it.

Rating: 2.25 Stars

Did I read this entire book in a single day? Yes, I did. Do I feel like it necessarily is the highlight of my recent reading experience? No.

The world I felt was interesting, and I may still continue these books by borrowing from my local library. I liked the idea of gods as physical, tangible beings, I liked the world structure as amongst the trees and the various sections of society being linked to the ecosystems of the trees (canopy, floor, and inbetween). However, when I finished reading the book, I felt... dissatisfied.

Our main character is not always likable. In fact, for vast amounts of this story, she isn't likable in the least. But that sets her up for a particular type of arc, one of sacrifice and realisation and the folding away of selfishness in service to others, which is something that I can respect. People aren't born good, it is a thing we learn, either from our parents or from experiences, and becoming good later in life should be rewarded. And yet, when I came to the end, I didn't feel like this character's pain and trials came to any kind of hopeful conclusion. Even when Unar was at her worst, I could not entirely hate her, because I knew her motives and reasoning and still somehow it felt like the author did not like her.

Similarly, the way that the world is set up feels like it is poised for a certain kind of arc as well, only for that to also not have the pay off it feels like it honestly deserved. I left this book feeling... saddened and slightly bitter, watching all these threads come to a pay off that I neither liked nor felt was particularly respectful of the threads themselves. It is like seeing everything go into making your favourite dish, and yet when it comes out, it is something else entirely that makes you wonder if it was even worth the cooking in the first place. It was just so entirely of a let down that I wondered if it would not have been better if the great moments of catalyst in this story had effectively never happened.

It's a confusing thing to read a book like this, one with a world idea that you like, and the building of plot and narrative that you enjoy, but when it comes to the end, you are completely let down. It sours the experience. I think, truly, that if the book had had an ending more in line with what I thought was going to happen, that easily I would have had this book at a 3.5 or 4 star rating, but it didn't. It fumbled the ending of character arcs and plot arcs in such a way that I came out of it going, “is that it? Did all this need to happen for the end result?” And perhaps, there's something to be said for continuing the series, that perhaps some of these threads are picked up again and rewoven, but an ending for a book in a series should make you want to keep reading. It shouldn't make you put down the book and think, “I almost wish I hadn't read that, because I am so unhappy with where this ended”.

So now I sit, confused as to my rating. 2.25 stars feels valid. I did, after all, absolutely smash out this book because I did not want to put it down. But also, when it was time to put down this book, I left with such... emptiness inside of me, and that is not ringing praise either.

Rating: 4 stars

T. Kingfisher, I love you.

I read romantasy, sometimes. Mostly I'm disappointed by it. So when people ask me what romantasy books I do enjoy, I point them in the direction of Juliet Marillier mostly, and now, also, T. Kingfisher. I actually felt there was a connection between the two main characters, I loved the side characters, I loved the world that we got and I just... loved it. It was like... watching the Mummy, but cozier, and more fairytale-esque. I'm talking, swashbuckler, quippy but with heart.

Is this the great plot of world shaking proportions? No, it's about a widow trying to get her inheritance so she can be independent of her in-laws, who are trying to trap her in marriage so they can take the money from her. The plot is small here, and yet, I was thoroughly invested the entire time in how that was going to happen, in how the man trapped in the magical sword was going to be freed, and in their relationship. There's no great prophecy looming here, but there is a priest that is a lawyer, and he's absolutely down to prosecute in your defence, and for hilarity, many different conversations about what it means to be a man in a sword, and the limitations and boundaries of that magic and how it can be tested.

It is a small time drama, but also, a story about finding independence and forgiveness and someone who cares about you, be it as a friend or as a lover. And it is sweet, and funny, and I enjoyed myself. Sure, sometimes I could do without all the description of Halla's breasts that came courtesy of Sarkis' narration, but I didn't feel like his connection to her was primarily based in the physical, which is more than I can say for some other romantasy books. There's a few lingering plot threads that didn't get wrapped up entirely, and I don't know if there will be further books in this series.

Ultimately, it was a light, funny read with a sweet romance and a light touch of the fantastical that felt like a good book to curl up with after a hard day at work for a little bit of escapism.

Rating: DNF at 54%.

Quicknotes version:
- interesting world premise (humans forced onto an inhospitable strip of land between a mountain and an abyss, with their small population predated by avian monsters on a regular basis, creating an atmosphere of such desperation that some will choose to throw themselves into the abyss rather than continue to live) that is almost immediately discarded. I would have loved more of a survival horror/fantasy vibe in polar environments, taking from like Snowpiercer in terms of grit and atmosphere, as opposed to that being the background that we left behind.
- I do not believe the “slow burn” in the slightest of the blurb. The main character is taken as a sacrifice and immediately clocks the love interest in such a way that makes it completely obvious that they're going to get together and have many scenes of smut down the track. Not against it, but was against the way that lust was meant to have this underlying feeling of love developing, when they were enemies, she was about to be killed by his people, and it felt like there was nothing actually there to underpin that feeling, and the speed of it honestly made me roll my eyes. Slowburn? I think of months, not maybe a week.
- prose was pretty okay, actually felt the cold of the world when it was being described, kind of intrigued by the mystery of the Glacians, but also, not enough to continue what was an experience that honestly made me sigh in discontent almost every other chapter past a certain point.
- the combination of leaving the setting that intrigued me and the romance that felt paper thin and utterly transparent, I just couldn't. It wasn't for me, if it is for you, go ahead, but not for me. I like an enemies to lovers that actually recognises that you can find someone hot and still hate their guts, and then people slowly win respect for each other before they even crack a smile in the other's direction. This was not that, which is what it is. I gave it a good shot, but it just wasn't for me.

Rating: 3 Stars
Full disclosure, I received my copy of this book as an ARC copy when attending a comic-con in 2023, as a free gift with purchase from a book selling stall. No review was solicited, and all opinions here are my own.

We're doing this quickfire, because I've got some thoughts but I feel like my review in totality needs a further book in order to do full justice.

- Interesting world. Genuinely unique ecology, flora, fauna, environment. The two hemispheres of the world warring over the tilt of the axis, because one side prospers while the other starves is a good concept that forever drives the plot forward and gives meaningful motivation.
- Interesting magical system. The way in which to get this “magic” honestly reminded me of the Jaffa and Goa'uld from Stargate SG1.
- The forest vibe of the book is straight from ye old fairytales of the day, and by that I mean, the forest is dark and scary and deep and you have miles before you can go to sleep. It is at times alien, it is dense, it is unknowable and vast and cares nothing for tiny human lives, and I ate that right up. Given where this book ends, I'm so excited for further exploration of the Wyrdwood. Think, fairytales meets Annihilation almost, with a helping of eldritch monstrosities.
- Grammar and sentence structure was... interesting. Perhaps simply because this was an ARC book, but it met unpolished. This is not the author's first rodeo, so I have to assume some of this is stylistic choice, but capitalisation and sentence structures were.... sometimes very bad. The author did play with some of these choices in context of scenarios that made it make sense - for example, Cahan being disorientated from being effectively beaten and one could say, magically starved. But sometimes, I didn't feel like the context gave enough justification for the writing structure itself to be affected.
- On a similar thread, I wish the prose was more than it was. Honestly, this was the thing that held me back the most in my rating. I felt like we were being dictated the feeling of the world or the character, as opposed to actually feeling with them. Not all prose has to be flowery, but I wanted some of description, something to evoke sentiment within me, not just be told what was happening.
- I both read the book and listened to the audiobook, and the narrator was honestly great, top form, no notes.
- Slow beginning. I understand why the book started where it did, but I honestly think a little repositioning and plotting could have established the points earlier and given the book more of a running start, because by about midpoint, when you can begin to feel the plot coming all together, you're looking back at the start going “why did we take so long to get here?”. By the end, you kind of understand what points in the start were needed to make the end point happen, but still, it drags its feet.
- I am continuing. There is a nugget of the story that is about hope and people in a hopeless, cruel world, and I just wish that the prose elevates itself to match the story and the world, because that's my primary issue. Not the characters, not the world, not even the plot, but the execution of it all. Even when we aren't in the mind of a taciturn, stoic, barely speaking Cahan, the writing remained so sparse and I was begging it to give me more. Some seasoning with the boiled chicken, if you will. The jury is out until book 2, Warlords of Wyrdwood, but I'm honestly on the fence just because of the execution of prose.

Rating: 4.25 stars

If I had to describe Ordinary Monsters, it would be a story about Victorian children necromancers with heavy Gothic atmosphere that pulls from the pennydreadfuls of yesteryear, and it's such a brooding, creepy vibe the entire way through. Body horror, eldritch creatures, and of course, death, all of these are within these pages, and they combine to create such a strange, Gothic plot that is both simple and timeless. The door to Death is threatened, and the dead await to pour into the world. Only this odd group of cast aside children and the adults trying to protect them are what stands in the way between the living and the dead.

There was so much in here that I genuinely enjoyed. The themes of love and belonging that permeated the entire book, how women were throughout the entire book in important positions when the ambiance of such tales would usually skew towards their exclusion. Even for me, who does not like horror, I could enjoy the creepy atmosphere being built, and how it was built from as much of the mundanity of Victorian England, with it's smoke and fog and soot filled air, as from the inclusion of the strange and deathly. It's definitely fitting for heading into Halloween, and good for those cold rainy days, but for all these dark notes, I wouldn't say that this is a book of darkness.

Fundamentally, to me, this is a book about the love shared in bonds and trust between people. Between children and those who care for them, children and their friends, people who form partnerships in their work. A lot of the brightness of this book comes through these relationships and how these characters bond together and strive to help one another, if only for the reason that they care for each other. And honestly, I think that this is where I love to see stories travel, through dark places and themes - and there are some very dark themes. One of the characters is mixed race and introduced in late 1800s America, and is treated with as much cruelty as you would expect of that time and place, all the more worse for the fact that he can heal - but with a brightness inherent in the way that humans can interact with one another, with love and compassion and friendship.

Rating: 4 Stars

Ah, Robin Hobb.

If you liked Assassin's Apprentice, I feel like you will enjoy Royal Assassin. If you struggled with Assassin's Apprentice, you will struggle again, and as Royal Assassin is even longer, the struggle will be worse. I always find to know this upfront to be good - the second book in the Farseer trilogy is written in much the same vein as the first, so if you came to Royal Assassin, hoping for a change of pace from the first book (given the end of it), I am sorry to tell you that you will leave largely disappointed. However, if you made your way through Assassin's Apprentice and found its slower pace to your liking, I do believe you will enjoy Royal Assassin.

With that out of the way, let's talk Royal Assassin. Though the book covers what I believe is only, at maximum, two years of Fitz' life, Hobb is drawn to detailing the minute details of Fitz' life as it shaped and honed him into the man who writes the chapter epigraphs. Something that I have constantly needed to adjust to within these books is that what plots I expect to be book plots, are actually plots for the wider trilogy, and so don't resolve quickly. They are threads, twining throughout, from the first book and now through the second and into the third. In the modern landscape of faster, more plot orientated fantasy books, I did sometimes need remembrance for the fact that this is a book far more concerned with the characters. If I was reading these books at time of release and had to wait for each next, I imagine I could feel slightly annoyed at this fact, for needing to wait for answers, but there is also a kind of slow revealing of mysteries that tantalises too. I don't think either approach is wrong, but if you cannot allow the book to be a slow revelation, then I wouldn't recommend it to you, because it demands your patience.

What then is the plot of this book? I believe the title is an apt descriptor - this book concerns itself with the realities of being both a bastard born to a royal lineage, sometimes hated and reviled, sometimes treated as almost a prince himself, and the realities of being an assassin. To be a royal demands to be seen, to be an assassin demands to be hidden. To be royal demands to lead, to be an assassin demands to serve. Ultimately, the plot of this book, to my mind, is how Fitz must navigate the two worlds that both lay a hold on him.

So, why the four star? Because I read this book, finished this book, and then spent two and a half hours when I needed to be asleep to get ready for my work, staring at my ceiling and processing. Because these characters nettle under your skin and find a home there, and you feel honest emotions about them. I would never say, in my experience, that I am ambivalent about the characters in this trilogy. I have been enraged, disappointed, hurt, upset, happy, frustrated, all of these - and if there are a lot of negative emotions there, it is because Hobb also is quite fond of taking the rug from under her character's feet and watching them fall. There are mysteries here, of the Elderlings, the Forging, even just the Fool, and the answers are slow to come and make me greedy like a child seeing an inviting cookie jar in front of them.

Ultimately, Royal Assassin reads much like Assassin's Apprentice. If you liked one, you'll like the second. It asks for your patience and your investment, and if you don't mind a slower novel, but also one that doesn't mind to batter at your emotions, then it is worthwhile read.

Rating: 4 Stars
First things first, this is not a book that aims to tell you a story through poetic prose and diving into character. Not to say that these things aren't touched upon, but as many reviews note, this book is true to the framing device. That is, this is a historical recounting of the Targaryen dynasty up to the surviving generations of the Dance of Dragons within Westeros, and as such, is more akin to reading a textbook than it is like reading a few chapters from a Game of Thrones.
However, if you can let yourself slide into the new narrative and the ways in which George R. R. Martin is trying to tell you important details about the Targaryens and Westeros, then it's a rewarding experience that enriches the ASOI&F by giving extra history, clues and connections. In terms of being able to give as much information as possible without creating an absolute tome, the framework of the book is without equal, and we largely follow the Targaryen dynasty, but sometimes touch upon other stories that interlink with the story of the Iron Throne, Westeros and the last dragonlord family to survive the Doom of Valyria.
At times, it can read a little too much like a history book. Names become an almost blur as they move past you, a fact unhelped by the often repeating dynastic names. But, for what it is, I enjoyed it greatly. My favourite aspects were diving into the wider world beyond Westeros, when chapters touched upon the lands outside of the Seven Kingdoms, from the remnants of Old Valyria to strange voyages and experiences travelling even further west of Westeros.
In particular in the sections concerned with the Dance of Dragons, multiple sources are used to convey the story, at times at odds with one another, and there is a self awareness to the book about how history is written by those who win the power to define it. There is definitely thought put behind this book. It would be easy to Martin to simply pen a history of the Targaryens, and it would sell even if it was as dry as dust. Aegon the Conquerer went here and did this and won that, for example. But Martin takes care to make the book still entertaining and play with how the concepts of power, history and remembrance can interplay and influence one another. Sometimes, it strains at belief. Am I truly to believe the words attributed to kings and queens in solitary meetings were able to be noted? Whether or not you take the view of Martin simply trying to inject a bit of drama into the more dry style of a historical recounting, or that what we see is Martin playing with themes of propaganda, it goes a long way to endear the reader to actually care about characters, events and moments beyond the base facts, and that, to me, is a mark of a good book written in this style.
If this book were as dry as any educational history book, it would be hard to get through. To me, this book rates a four stars because it wasn't hard. True, it wasn't always easy. Names, as I have mentioned, became blurs. At times, I felt very much in the slow point of history. But, largely, it was a still entertaining take at a historical recounting, and that is a framework device that rarely lends itself to that task.

Rating: 3.25 stars

Godkiller is a good book. Not a great book, but a good book. Godkiller has an interesting premise, with a plot that ties together four characters that have competing interests and throughlines to create an overarching plot that - at times - is rife with tension. But what stops this book from becoming great is the ways in which is struggles with balancing the characters, their plots and the overarching plot into a tightly plotted and executed narrative. The bones are there, it just needed a little more polishing.

I enjoyed Godkiller. The opening chapters and the last were hooks to me, with the back end successfully managing to win me back after what I felt was a bit of a meandering middle. The problem is, there was a meandering middle in a book that comes with an inbuilt time pressure, and a short one at that. One character is on a time sensitive mission that they feel they cannot fail, but yet, rarely did I feel that pressure being put forward. My great over arching thought of this book was it needed to have a few screws tightened before it was put out. I had no issue with the language, with the prose - the main issues I had were ones of editing and overall narrative flow.

The premise of Godkiller is an automatic hook for me. Gods have been thrown down? Gods are reliant on belief in order to live and are greedy and murderous to their own kind for it? This is a wonderful premise, and Kaner shines when we are exploring the caprice of the gods. They are both delightfully understandable as beings of want and desire, and also completely alien in how they view life as mattering little compared to their glory. The idea of a war of gods is wonderful, and I was most hooked into the story when the story was fundamentally revolving around this idea of what it means to have gods that are killable, and why humans would want to throw them down and how it can be done. The ideas behind wild gods, their curses and the return of gods was also a wonderful exploration, and had me wanting to discover more.

The characters were serviceable. I could understand all four of the protagonists, but sometimes I did feel a little like the ways that they interacted with each other were a bit ham fisted. I didn't quite buy the romance that was seen on the page in the back half of the book, and would have liked a little more time for that build up, but for the characters as they stood alone, I understood their motivations and their reasons. Independently, I was happy with them, it was just in the way that some of them acting with each other that had me wondering if I was missing something. The turn of the villain in the last quarter felt a little mustache twirling, but I am not opposed to it entirely, as it brings another interesting facet to the premise that I would genuinely like to see explored.

However, in some ways, Kaner's own writing got the better of her. I truly believe a round of tight editing would have served this book so well, stripping away excess details that don't matter, like a bartender shaving ice for a drink in a bar, in service of creating a faster pace in the plot itself. Doing so would increase the feel of the time pressure within the plot, which in turn, ups the danger of it. Another aspect that I felt didn't do service to the novel was a confrontation that happened off screen between viewpoint characters - a confrontation that would have served nearly all of them to be shown. I almost felt like I had a chapter missing. In that midbook meandering, it would have created extra tension and heightened danger that I felt was missing, and yet, it simply wasn't there. The scene - which we are told about in retrospect - fundamentally changes the way that all characters view other each other, in multiple aspects, resolving some issues and creating more in other ways. It felt important, and yet, we didn't have it. It still makes no sense to me how we spent time in a tavern, laboriously going over how a specific drink was made, and yet a pivotal confrontation that sets up skills needed for the next book (at least, it seems to be), was not included at all.

I am aware that this book was originally self published before being picked up by a publisher, which could have been part of the reason that some of it felt a little rough around the edges. Editing by an experienced professional can be time consuming and costly, and there are often multiple rounds of edits that go into a normal traditionally published book, in my understanding. In a self published situation, this may not have been possible, so I allow it grace, with the understanding that the second book which is traditionally published may seem growth in that regard.

I would be remiss however to state that my review here was not affected by a book that I have read in the last year that involves gods, god wars and the power and politics that belief in gods begets. That book series has become a new favourite of mine, and in some areas, the two books tread a lot of similar ground. There were points where I stopped reading and only could think, “I've read this done better in another book”, and comparison is the thief of joy. This book still does the exploration of godhood and divinity well, and I wish I could read it without having read all the other books that I have ever read to give it a review that isn't biased by other good reading experiences, but I can't. All I can do is acknowledge that it has tread similar ground to a beloved book I have read, and in some cases, came up wanting against it. I don't feel that what Godkiller explored, it did so in a manner that was bad, simply that it didn't hit the same level as another book that I have read and immensely enjoyed.

Ultimately, I think I will continue this series, at least into Sunbringer. I've rated books previously around this rating, and been unsure of them, but the difference between those books and this is I truly believe my issues here are more to do with editing and a novice writer finessing their craft, as opposed to deepseated thematic and character issues. Kaner has a clear idea of her world and her premise and that shows, and the book is honestly at its best to me when it's deep in the exploration of the idea of what makes a god, and how would a god act, if they were made only stronger by the belief invested in them? My issues here are about the set dressing, not the architecture, and that is things that can be addressed with time, practice and editing.

So, Godkiller's good. I'm hoping with Sunbringer, it truly becomes great - and I have the hope that it will.

Rating: 4 Stars

In a city under occupation, a thief picks a pocket, and starts a cascade of events that could change the city entirely in the space of a fortnight.

This book is not for the faint of heart. It is a complicated, sometimes unwieldy book that tells you to keep up or be left behind, and yet, I also vastly enjoyed it. Picture, if you will, a camera following behind your viewpoint character. You watch them weave through the streets, until a great explosion occurs. The camera circles, taking in the fire bursting out, and you expect that when the circle ends, you find yourself perched back on the shoulder of the same character. Except, in this book, it does not - it finds a new home, and you follow along that character, as they weave themselves through the resulting aftermath, and you find new angles to look at the resulting ripples of consequence as they present themselves, the camera following along until it finds a new shoulder to perch on, and then another. This is the first challenge of the book - an almost staggering number of viewpoints that come thick and fast in the opening third of the book, almost never repeating until you are into the thick of it. And Tchaikovsky doesn't truly believe in holding your hand through these viewpoint changes - names, titles and descriptions come just as densely, and you either remember the names, consult the dramatis personae at the start of the book, or use enough of your own memory and context to put yourself into the scene. It gets slightly easier by the time you cross the first third mark, as the number of viewpoints being introduced whittles down to a select few here and there, but for the first third, reading can be a slow, confusing process wherein you try to remember who is what and where and why?

The downside to this is of course that character development in such a novel is not the main focus. This book is driven by the action, as the city is swept up in the resulting consequences of one arguably small theft. For a select number of the viewpoints, there are narrative arcs completed, with the character at the start and at the end a different character entirely, but for the majority, they are the way they are, whether you like them or not. And mostly, you will not - this is a city under occupation, and those that have survived the totalitarian grip of the Palleseen Sway have done so through subterfuge, bribery and underhanded tricks. This is not a heroic fantasy, and yet, still, you can find aspects in these characters that you want to explore, or if not, that you hope will find their comeuppance, and for some, both at once. Tchaikovsky has written characters that make you compelled by them, either to see them fall, see them rise, to see how they wrangle themselves out of their corner or even more simply, to see the corner of Ilmar that they inhabit.

The city - as befitting the fact that the book is named for it - is where I truly felt Tchaikovsky shined most. While I enjoyed the story told - even as I wished it had turned into something else, I can still respect the resolve the author had to start a tale in one way and finish it in a way absolutely befitting what the tale was, and not curtailing it into something nicer - I truly wish I knew more the city. I don't know if Tchaikovsky intends to create more stories about Ilmer, and that is a disappointment to me, because the city itself is ripe with opportunities for more stories. From the Anchorwood, which holds a mysterious portal to other worlds, to the Reproach, cursed forever to enchant and take control of any who wander in, to Mirror Allor, where refugees from another nation work their magic and bind demons, these were all fascinating pieces of background that I wanted Tchaikovsky to dive into. We got tastes of it, hints of mysteries that could be solved, and yet, we skimmed across the surface of it all because the novel was focused on the powderkeg of the city set alight by the theft. But what could be, I wondered, if the author settled into just one of those mysteries, in a novella, or another novel entirely? I'd buy it in a heartbeat, just wanting to unravel those threads that beg for further teasing and elucidation.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book. It was weird and strange, and had at times, a very blunt and brute force commentary on the rigid politics reminiscent of Nazi Germany, the cost of industrialisation and the yoke of capitalism. It was, at times, slow and hard to read, and yet when I consider the book as a whole, I come out of it going I enjoyed my time and effort spent here. It was filled with interesting ideas, and characters that compelled me to feel - even if not in positive ways - and it was a dark, interesting setting. If you want an easy, or light, read, I don't think this is the book for you. But if you're after something else, that strays towards the weird and the dark, I'd certainly recommend giving this book a shot.

Rating: 4 Stars

This book enchanted me and hurt me, all at once.

First things first, this is the story of Fitz. It's not the story of that one summer where shit went down and all the action happened, but a tale told retrospectively by Fitz's narration over the course of his life from his first childhood memories to somewhere around perhaps fifteen. The story is told in the leaps and lulls of memory, where things like ages and years are hazy and the description of countryside and contentment are dreamlike. In short, this isn't an action orientated book, nor what I would consider a plot driven novel, though there is a plot that is somewhat resolved and somewhat unresolved by the time the novel ends. Far more, this is a character story, and you do yourself a disservice by going into it believing otherwise. The plot, the pacing, the prose, all speaks towards the character driven nature of the book, and is more content with lingering in Fitz's discovery of the world and his place in it as opposed to moving along to the next piece of plot.

In terms of prose, it's fable like. Hobb evokes the idea of someone telling a story so magnificently, it feels like I could have been sitting down by a fire and having Fitz tell me of his world. In one way that the prose blew me away, was how we are introduced to the Wit - so seamlessly into narration and thought pattern so it took me a while to realise its implementation was not metaphor, but reality, a blurring of lines between two characters done so subtly and brilliantly. When you give Hobb time and patience to let her story breathe, it's worth being in this world, even as it tugs on my heartstrings and makes me feel so many varied emotions, from love to hatred to anger to heartbreaking sadness.

In random other qualities, in other books, titles and locations being named so literally would be an aversion to me, a piece of imaginative void that should have been filled, but given the construction of the world, with the naming nomenclature of noble born characters and how that was woven into their society, where princes are named as Chivalry and Regal and Verity, it makes sense. There's a simplicity and cohesion between it that just strikes me so wonderfully.

Characters are not always likable. In most cases, I would say that that is because they are rendered more for realism. There are some characters that I spent the entire novel oscillating between loving and hating, unsure of where I truly landed with them. Admittedly, there were some that were what they were from the outset, and critiques could be made that the villain of the piece was too obvious and too much of a caricature to be anything but. I admit this has some truth to it - I was suspicious of them throughout the entire piece. But for the others, for the ones that had me saying that they were the best and then shortly thereafter the worst, I can be conflicted in my feelings and yet still understand them. I understand their motivations and reasonings, even if I dislike them and disagree with where they led the character. I hope as the series continues that we get more characters like this, as opposed to the more two dimensional drawing of the villain.

Did I enjoy this book? Yes. I enjoyed the moments of wonder with Fitz, his exploration of the world, his time spent with the animals. Did I hurt in this book? Also yes. At times, I was tempted to throw this book across the room because it hurt me - I felt my emotions, and that's a good book. That something in its paper and ink contents could be so emotionally charged that I have a visceral reaction speaks volumes of the story being told and how it was spun around me to captivate me. However, in fair warning, animals are harmed in this book, on page and with malicious intent. For any animal lover like myself, it can be hard to stomach.

And yet, for all that, I'm going to continue. I'm intrigued by the world, by the plot threads still left unwoven and dangling. I know to expect pain, and yet, I still feel like it will be worth it, for the glimmers of joy amongst it all and the heart carried within it.

Rating: 4 Stars

This is a reread of the Winner's trilogy, and even clearly out of the target demographic, I still dearly love this series.

A few things to bring up before we head into the review - this is a very low fantasy world. Magic? Not in the wheelhouse here, neither are dragons. A strong point in this book is also the romantic pairing, but not just in their romance. The interplay between the two characters and the opposing sides that they fall on do have a lot to do with the plot and pushing it forwards. This does mean that it takes a little longer for the mainline plot of the novels to kick in, as we require the time to build the relationship between the two protagonists, in order to create any believability.

First of all, the prose. I find Rutkoski's prose to be beautiful, and her ability to spin an evocative metaphor is on show. I like my prose a little bit of the showy side, and Rutkoski does enough to hit that poetic longing that I enjoy, without straying too far into the purple prose aspect of it all. It's not an overly convoluted prose style, and it doesn't require an awful amount for the reader, but it has a sense of lyricism that I have always genuinely appreciated.

Second of all, the characters, notably Kestrel, the female protagonist. Kestrel was created either during or shortly after a boom of female characters that were warriors. I don't blame the audience for wanting characters to be more than passive bystanders or damsels in distress, but Kestrel toes a different line. When I first read this book, I remember being so pleased and refreshed by Kestrel, because while Kestrel isn't a warrior able to go head to head with her enemies with a sword, she was a strategist, and the book never shies away from the consideration that her intellect could be just as cutting and cruel as any piece of sharpened steel. For the majority of the book, we see Kestrel in dresses and ribbons, and yet, never once do I doubt that she has the ability to stand on her own and win over others and exert her own will on the world, not through strength of arms, but through the cunning of her mind.

And, even better, we never see her looking down on other types of strength. Endurance, force of arms, even just the softness and loyalty that she could easily manipulate in others - Kestrel respects them all. In so many books, in order to make the warrior woman seem stronger, that same character then espouses the weakness of womens work or of mothers, but not here. Kestrel, at the time I first read these novels and still to now, is a refreshing example of a female character who is not the strongest, but does not disparage of a lack of strength, who proves strength is not a facet of simply muscles and physicality, but a many faceted thing that people can embody in multiple ways.

Onto some other aspects - yes, we are dealing with themes of colonialism, war and revolution, as the main characters fall on two ends of the spectrum in the society, conqueror and conquered. I am wholeheartedly admitting here that I am not the right person to speak to how these themes are handled. My gut instinct says that it is handled with a degree of grace, showing the privilege of Kestrel, even in her thoughts showing with an imperiousness towards her slaves, labelling the slaves as they are and not simply as “servants”, and in allowing Arin's anger and the anger of the Herrani people to be shown. You never get the sense in the writing that the Valorian empire is a good one, but whether or not it goes far enough to show this is something that I can't answer, from my own place of privilege. Undoubtedly, some people may believe that the romantic pairing between Kestrel and Arin is not acceptable under any circumstances, and I would be hard to argue against them. From my point of view, I feel like Rutkoski was trying to handle the story and the pairing with care, but perhaps the care was curtailed with trying to remain within the constraints of a YA novel.

Overall, I greatly enjoy this series for what it is - a low fantasy, YA series about a strategist girl and the slave she buys, and what that sparks for their society around them. I enjoy the relationship cultivated between the two, and buy that it is more than simply an attraction based upon physical appearance. I enjoy a different kind of character than what is normally seen for women, and how she navigates the challenges of the plot, all through a prose that I find delightfully lyrical.

Rating: 4 Stars

First things first, I am well aware that I am not the target audience for this book. It's also not my first time reading it. When the Disney+ adaptation came out, I decided I was overdue to reread a series that managed to wring out my emotions even when I was freshly out of high school and still not the target audience, and it remains much of the same reading experience as I had previously.

I can't speak to the prose, because I am so clearly not the target audience. It feels like it would be easy to parse for someone of the ages between 11-15, and so it's probably just fine. Some of the characters do fall into very shallow characterisations, but given what I know comes next, and the age that these stories are meant for, I won't talk too much about that. A lot of these things are very much a product of the time of writing, and narrative shorthand meant to position the reader in an appropriate frame of mind for the rest of the book. A girl described as ugly becomes a narrative antagonist, etc. While an older audience might want for greater depth in this regard, you must be very aware that these books are not for an older audience, but for middle age school children.

But what ranks these books so highly to me is the themes that pervade throughout. Themes of true friendship, that family can be what you make it and not what you are born to, of emotional vulnerability and love, are all lessons that we should be giving to our children. Through Percy Jackson, we see a hero who is unafraid of his love for his mother, but also recognises that just because he was born to a father, doesn't mean he has to love him for that fact alone. Percy also is emotional throughout the book, and that is never downplayed or looked down upon. It's right that he is sad, and it's right that he is angry. These moments of emotion are so important, because they help to normalise the experience of children reading to say that you are not only allowed to have emotions, but characters that you look up to have them as well. In this series, the model of what is considered heroic also allows for moments of weakness, vulnerability and doubt.

Aside from all of this, the book is also - expectedly - rife with Greek mythology. For the children who have already fallen into their ancient Greek mythology stage, there's hidden little notes that they will see and understand and feel partly like they have found a secret. For kids not yet in that stage, it's filled with enough knowledge and explanation of Greek mythology to plant a little seed of curiosity in their mind. Combined with the nature of the book and the way it invites in play, it could very well help expand a child's interest in the ancient era of our world and the societies that played large roles within it.

But as to that nature of play - how many times were you reading a book as a child, and imagining yourself within it? An easy cultural touchstone is obviously the Harry Potter books, and children who awaited their 11th birthday for their Hogwarts letter and proclaimed their Hogwarts houses, but there are many more books out there that invite that sense of play and inclusion within them, not least of all these books. It's easy to read and wonder, what cabin would you belong to? What monsters would you fight, and quest would you go on? This sense of play invites young readers to get involved - in the stories, in the characters, and in imagining themselves within the pages, stoking a love of dreaming, creating and reading. And that's why I rate this book so highly, because I value so much of what it does - drawing readers in, inviting them to imagine themselves within the pages as another demigod at Camp Halfblood, stoking a curiosity in our own world, and thinking about what it means to be a hero, and what constitutes a family. All these are so important when growing up, and the book intertwines them all in a fun story that rollicks along, even to the adults along for the ride.

Rating: 3 Stars

My feelings for this book are ultimately very simple: it was an enjoyable read, but I don't think I'll ever feel the need to pick it back up again.

The concept is intriguing, but it never fully hooked me. The characters are interesting, but their way of banter and speaking is sometimes so overly concerned with being flippant that it rides the edge of wanting a roll of the eyes. It's a very serviceable book, is perhaps the best way I can think to explain it. The plot had stakes, the characters had reasons to be involved, but that certain oomph that tugs around the reader's heart was just not there for me. The artwork inside was beautiful.

Ultimately, there was nothing wrong with this book, but in terms of what was there for me, there was not enough to justify a return adventure within the pages. And this is fine - not all books are for all people, and not all books are ones that you read and grow to love. I respect it for what it was, but acknowledge that as well. If you like an urban fantasy tale with a certain love towards the nature of humanity and an irreverence in its spirits, then I think you'll have a good time here. But as to whether or not it deserves to stay on my shelves, sometimes, things must end, and when they are done, they are done for good.

I received an ARC copy of this book from NetGalley, in exchange for an unbiased review.

Rating: 3 Stars

This is a book that is full of promise, but like an uncut gem, does need perhaps another round of editing and polishing in order to make it truly shine.

A Sanctum of Souls is set a few millennia after the death of the Gods of the Ascended Pantheon, and humans have found a way to fill the divine void with their own politics, infighting and aspirations. Unlike other worlds and books where the death of the Gods spells out an apocalypse for the people, in the world of Thearus, the world moved on. However, in the absence of the Ascended Pantheon, when two gods previously imprisoned are about to be unleashed on the world, there is nothing to stop the chaos they are about to unleash, barring the actions of a group of mismatched mortals who must juggle their own self interests against that of the world.

The concept by the author is certainly one that is an easy hook for any fantasy reader. In many stories, death of the gods leads to a downward spiral that culminates in the death of the universe, but here, it is not so. This sets up in your mind a truly grand story where mortals will face down – and perhaps even manage the impossible feat of killing – gods. For any fantasy genre fanatic, the hook is well and truly baited, and it's easy to immediately dive into the book.

It's clear from the get go that the author has a vast sprawling world in their mind for this story, filled with different cultures and religions. I'm not entirely sure of the inspirations for some of these cultures draw from, but I was put in mind of the Mongols and Arabic cultures, though I may be off base. Regardless, this is not the proto-typical medieval Europe setting, and it's a wonderful thing to see. The bulk of the story does not take place over a great vast landscape, but we hear enough to know that the world outside the main story is vast and varied, and hopefully with the next instalments, Malone will be able to take the reader to these other cultures and show us his imagination and creativity. I wish the magical systems in play here got a little more exploration and explanation than they did on page, but once again, that may be something that Malone is holding in reserve for a future novel. For what we did see of the magic, the various branches of it did all appear to follow similar themes and constraints, so I do believe Malone has put thought into the magic system of this world.

For those of you who love diverse books, there is diversity of skin colour and a strong selection of women helming the story forward. I would note that most of these women do fall into the warrior woman role, but given the story, I will make the allowance for it. There are some small things I can note, but in general, I was pleasantly surprised to be reading and find a large cast of women, both in the foreground and the background, that were simply noted as being there, not for being extraordinary and exceptions to the rule, but just as a matter of course. It is refreshing indeed to find a book and a world wherein sexism appears to not even be a singular thought, and similarly, racism appears to not exist in this world. Though it did not seem diverse in sexual orientation, romance was most certainly not at the forefront of this book, so it remains to be seen if some of the representation will be found in later books.

The prose leans towards purple, with Malone seeming to quite enjoy describing the world to the reader. For someone who loves those descriptions, from the material of the halls to the silks that each character wears, this book is lush paradise. However, I did find it to get a little monotonous. Nearly every named character is treat to a full description, from their armour to the colours of the silks they were, and it becomes obvious quickly that these descriptions are not authorial shorthand for “pay attention, this character is important”. Similarly, nearly every hallway's lighting is described, which adds to the length of the novel in a way that I felt was a bit superfluous, sometimes even slowing down pacing and taking back from the atmosphere Malone was building to describe something that felt like it added very minimally to the scene. While authors are often taught to show, and not tell, I don't believe it means that the author has to authentically write down everything they picture within their mind. Undoubtedly, Malone has a vivid imagination, but the over description I think can get in the way of the story he is telling.

In example of something that really drew me out of the narrative, in one fight scene, the exact same descriptor (“midnight”, referring to the colour of a sect's clothing) was used four times, all within a few sentences of one another. The same character is described as “(a) midnight robed warrior”, “midnight clad assassins”, “(a) midnight clad warrior” and has “hands of midnight” – by this time, it is well established that members of this sect are clad in black, and yet the notion is continually pushed to us. Sometimes, the wheel doesn't need to be reimagined for it to be effective – not every descriptor must be elegant and lush. Sometimes, black can suffice, or in such a case as this, where the colour of clothing has been firmly established, the descriptor can be left alone a time or two, trusting in the reader to remember.

That's not to say that all of Malone's prose suffers. He was absolutely able to write some lines that felt poetic and evocative, with one of my stand out favourites being “it was the sound of death dogging them all, vengeance meted out by the violence of the blade”. But purple prose does have its drawbacks. For as lush and lovely as it can be, evoking moods and atmospheres that are hard to convey with simple description, sometimes, it merely confuses. Some of the descriptors here are like that – in a battle scene, twice the descriptor “bruised” is used, but not in reference to skin or injury. Instead, it is “bruised sparks” and “bruised smoke”, and I'm not sure what I am meant to picture. Perhaps a cloud of smoke mottled dark blue and purple, but as that's the only description I have, there's nothing else to use as a reference point. The author is clearly trying to be evocative and descriptive, and I do love that, but I also need to be able to understand what they are trying to show me in my mind. I don't think any of this is a deal breaker, and again, I must argue that I truly believe that all of this could be easily fixed with another round of editing and polish. None of these issues are story breaking, none of them inherently hurt the novel, but it does leave room for the story to be improved.

For my further criticisms, I have a few, some minor, some a little more encompassing. There are a few different typos within the text, but nothing too major or overt. Once, the word “father” was used in place in “farther”, and there were a few instances of “fauna” being used when the entire paragraph around it referred to “flora”, or plant life. These are nothing that another round of editing wouldn't pick up and fix, and that is something that I felt would have aided the novel greatly. There are some lines that when I read, I couldn't help but think, “editing would have improved this”, because either my ability to understand what Malone was trying to convey was simply not up to task, or there was something missing. In example, the sentence, “lavender night, Korian mused, a poisonous flower commonly found in the venom that shared it's namesake”, confused me greatly. Was Malone trying to convey that there was a poison concocted from the lavender night plant, and they both bore the same name? That seems the most logical, but the phrasing is so awkward that I had to read the sentence multiple times to grasp it. Venom, by definition, is something injected by an animal into prey, so a poison derived from a flower should ideally not be labelled as such, and a simpler way to phrase the same thought might have been “lavender night, [...], a deadly flower used to create the poison that shared its namesake”, changing little enough of the sentence but greatly improving its clarity.

Another example was this sentence, “A ruby satin blanket draped her from the knees down, falling upon great bovine hooves; the blanket was a matte gradient of black, building up to a pale cerulean”, to which I stared at the sentence for a good minute, trying to figure out if there was a second blanket, or somehow the blanket was black, blue and red, all at the same time. And in one other example, less related to description, but more related to exposition, in the first chapter, we have the narration recite what amounts to be a dictionary definition like translation of a foreign phrase. However, at this stage, the exact phrase we are learning of has not been mentioned in speech or even thought, making it feel a little like an obtrusive sidenote rather than a seamless piece of worldbuilding.

Again, I cannot overstate how much I think a lot of this could have been improved with a round of editing. What was longwinded in description could be shortened, what was confused in description could be clarified, and what felt like it stood out through rough integration into the text could be smoothed out. I don't fault the author in this at all, because I understand the cost of editing, especially as an independent author, can be restrictive, but I merely want to emphasise my point that this book has good bones to it, a good solid core, that just needs a little finesse to it to make it truly shine.

My last notes and critiques come in the form of dialogue, pacing and a stylistic choice that the author used. For the stylistic choice, nearly every section of the book – chapter and chapter sections included – ended in the use of ellipses. I found this to be a little trite, taking away from the gravitas that a well used ellipse can evoke in the reader, but I am very aware that this choice may just not be for me, and others could enjoy it perfectly well. Dialogue I feel is also a bit of a stylistic choice, with it being very formal, even when the characters are not in formal settings. At first, I thought it was the author's shorthand for world exposition, as characters will often refer to one another by full names and titles, but as the trend continued, I realised it was merely how the author wanted the characters to speak. If you are someone who enjoys more modern fantasy, the dialogue may come across as overly stiff and stilted to you, but to someone who enjoys the more classical fantasy, you may find the dialogue to be suited to you. This is all a manner of personal preference, and in full honesty, I myself am a fan of modern fantasy as opposed to more classical, so I will not make much more comment about the dialogue, understanding that I am probably not exactly the target audience and cannot give the best and most fair review of it.

And lastly, pacing. I feel like this is perhaps my most major criticism of the story, and though I do also think that editing could have smoothed out this rough edge of the story, I do think that addressing it might be a larger task than the others I've noted. The way that we are introduced to the Penitent Sanctuary, the way that the driving plot to this story is introduced, takes what I feel is far too long in set up before the pay off, to the point that I felt like the main plot of novel was only truly beginning to kick into effect in the last 40%. It means the first half of the novel feels slow, even though it is filled with action sequences, by the time you get to the end and really feel how the plot has weaved itself together. Without getting into spoilers, I felt that at least two or three of the nine characters who are part of the group could have easily found their way into the Penitent Sanctuary, and we would not have faced a significant loss from starting their story at that moment. What we learned as readers prior to that moment was nothing that could not have discovered through character narration and internal thought, and would have helped to create a forward drive in the narrative that to me, simply felt like it came too late. Related to this, but by 91% through the story, I also was at a loss for how one plotline felt simply... inconsequential. I didn't see how the character's plotline throughout the novel would tie into the end, so the chapters spent with that character felt like something from a different novel. Perhaps, this character and their plotline here is due to become important in another novel, but in this novel here, it felt extraneous.

Overall, there were problems with this novel, nothing that was too egregious, but things that could be improved by a little more time spent in editing and polishing. For a first outing by a debut indie author, I find A Sanctum of Swords to be impressive, with a vast world that is tremendously open for grand, epic stories, but the book itself can get a little bogged down from its lofty aspirations in the minutiae of description, purple prose and pacing issues. The bones are good and the story has potential, but it doesn't quite come together as a finalised product with a neat bow. That all being said, I'd certainly love to keep an eye on Malone's future as a writer and see what he produces in the future.

I received an ARC copy of this book from NetGalley, in exchange for an unbiased review.

Rating: 3 Stars

This is a book that is full of promise, but like an uncut gem, does need perhaps another round of editing and polishing in order to make it truly shine.

A Sanctum of Souls is set a few millennia after the death of the Gods of the Ascended Pantheon, and humans have found a way to fill the divine void with their own politics, infighting and aspirations. Unlike other worlds and books where the death of the Gods spells out an apocalypse for the people, in the world of Thearus, the world moved on. However, in the absence of the Ascended Pantheon, when two gods previously imprisoned are about to be unleashed on the world, there is nothing to stop the chaos they are about to unleash, barring the actions of a group of mismatched mortals who must juggle their own self interests against that of the world.

The concept by the author is certainly one that is an easy hook for any fantasy reader. In many stories, death of the gods leads to a downward spiral that culminates in the death of the universe, but here, it is not so. This sets up in your mind a truly grand story where mortals will face down – and perhaps even manage the impossible feat of killing – gods. For any fantasy genre fanatic, the hook is well and truly baited, and it's easy to immediately dive into the book.

It's clear from the get go that the author has a vast sprawling world in their mind for this story, filled with different cultures and religions. I'm not entirely sure of the inspirations for some of these cultures draw from, but I was put in mind of the Mongols and Arabic cultures, though I may be off base. Regardless, this is not the proto-typical medieval Europe setting, and it's a wonderful thing to see. The bulk of the story does not take place over a great vast landscape, but we hear enough to know that the world outside the main story is vast and varied, and hopefully with the next instalments, Malone will be able to take the reader to these other cultures and show us his imagination and creativity. I wish the magical systems in play here got a little more exploration and explanation than they did on page, but once again, that may be something that Malone is holding in reserve for a future novel. For what we did see of the magic, the various branches of it did all appear to follow similar themes and constraints, so I do believe Malone has put thought into the magic system of this world.

For those of you who love diverse books, there is diversity of skin colour and a strong selection of women helming the story forward. I would note that most of these women do fall into the warrior woman role, but given the story, I will make the allowance for it. There are some small things I can note, but in general, I was pleasantly surprised to be reading and find a large cast of women, both in the foreground and the background, that were simply noted as being there, not for being extraordinary and exceptions to the rule, but just as a matter of course. It is refreshing indeed to find a book and a world wherein sexism appears to not even be a singular thought, and similarly, racism appears to not exist in this world. Though it did not seem diverse in sexual orientation, romance was most certainly not at the forefront of this book, so it remains to be seen if some of the representation will be found in later books.

The prose leans towards purple, with Malone seeming to quite enjoy describing the world to the reader. For someone who loves those descriptions, from the material of the halls to the silks that each character wears, this book is lush paradise. However, I did find it to get a little monotonous. Nearly every named character is treat to a full description, from their armour to the colours of the silks they were, and it becomes obvious quickly that these descriptions are not authorial shorthand for “pay attention, this character is important”. Similarly, nearly every hallway's lighting is described, which adds to the length of the novel in a way that I felt was a bit superfluous, sometimes even slowing down pacing and taking back from the atmosphere Malone was building to describe something that felt like it added very minimally to the scene. While authors are often taught to show, and not tell, I don't believe it means that the author has to authentically write down everything they picture within their mind. Undoubtedly, Malone has a vivid imagination, but the over description I think can get in the way of the story he is telling.

In example of something that really drew me out of the narrative, in one fight scene, the exact same descriptor (“midnight”, referring to the colour of a sect's clothing) was used four times, all within a few sentences of one another. The same character is described as “(a) midnight robed warrior”, “midnight clad assassins”, “(a) midnight clad warrior” and has “hands of midnight” – by this time, it is well established that members of this sect are clad in black, and yet the notion is continually pushed to us. Sometimes, the wheel doesn't need to be reimagined for it to be effective – not every descriptor must be elegant and lush. Sometimes, black can suffice, or in such a case as this, where the colour of clothing has been firmly established, the descriptor can be left alone a time or two, trusting in the reader to remember.

That's not to say that all of Malone's prose suffers. He was absolutely able to write some lines that felt poetic and evocative, with one of my stand out favourites being “it was the sound of death dogging them all, vengeance meted out by the violence of the blade”. But purple prose does have its drawbacks. For as lush and lovely as it can be, evoking moods and atmospheres that are hard to convey with simple description, sometimes, it merely confuses. Some of the descriptors here are like that – in a battle scene, twice the descriptor “bruised” is used, but not in reference to skin or injury. Instead, it is “bruised sparks” and “bruised smoke”, and I'm not sure what I am meant to picture. Perhaps a cloud of smoke mottled dark blue and purple, but as that's the only description I have, there's nothing else to use as a reference point. The author is clearly trying to be evocative and descriptive, and I do love that, but I also need to be able to understand what they are trying to show me in my mind. I don't think any of this is a deal breaker, and again, I must argue that I truly believe that all of this could be easily fixed with another round of editing and polish. None of these issues are story breaking, none of them inherently hurt the novel, but it does leave room for the story to be improved.

For my further criticisms, I have a few, some minor, some a little more encompassing. There are a few different typos within the text, but nothing too major or overt. Once, the word “father” was used in place in “farther”, and there were a few instances of “fauna” being used when the entire paragraph around it referred to “flora”, or plant life. These are nothing that another round of editing wouldn't pick up and fix, and that is something that I felt would have aided the novel greatly. There are some lines that when I read, I couldn't help but think, “editing would have improved this”, because either my ability to understand what Malone was trying to convey was simply not up to task, or there was something missing. In example, the sentence, “lavender night, Korian mused, a poisonous flower commonly found in the venom that shared it's namesake”, confused me greatly. Was Malone trying to convey that there was a poison concocted from the lavender night plant, and they both bore the same name? That seems the most logical, but the phrasing is so awkward that I had to read the sentence multiple times to grasp it. Venom, by definition, is something injected by an animal into prey, so a poison derived from a flower should ideally not be labelled as such, and a simpler way to phrase the same thought might have been “lavender night, [...], a deadly flower used to create the poison that shared its namesake”, changing little enough of the sentence but greatly improving its clarity.

Another example was this sentence, “A ruby satin blanket draped her from the knees down, falling upon great bovine hooves; the blanket was a matte gradient of black, building up to a pale cerulean”, to which I stared at the sentence for a good minute, trying to figure out if there was a second blanket, or somehow the blanket was black, blue and red, all at the same time. And in one other example, less related to description, but more related to exposition, in the first chapter, we have the narration recite what amounts to be a dictionary definition like translation of a foreign phrase. However, at this stage, the exact phrase we are learning of has not been mentioned in speech or even thought, making it feel a little like an obtrusive sidenote rather than a seamless piece of worldbuilding.

Again, I cannot overstate how much I think a lot of this could have been improved with a round of editing. What was longwinded in description could be shortened, what was confused in description could be clarified, and what felt like it stood out through rough integration into the text could be smoothed out. I don't fault the author in this at all, because I understand the cost of editing, especially as an independent author, can be restrictive, but I merely want to emphasise my point that this book has good bones to it, a good solid core, that just needs a little finesse to it to make it truly shine.

My last notes and critiques come in the form of dialogue, pacing and a stylistic choice that the author used. For the stylistic choice, nearly every section of the book – chapter and chapter sections included – ended in the use of ellipses. I found this to be a little trite, taking away from the gravitas that a well used ellipse can evoke in the reader, but I am very aware that this choice may just not be for me, and others could enjoy it perfectly well. Dialogue I feel is also a bit of a stylistic choice, with it being very formal, even when the characters are not in formal settings. At first, I thought it was the author's shorthand for world exposition, as characters will often refer to one another by full names and titles, but as the trend continued, I realised it was merely how the author wanted the characters to speak. If you are someone who enjoys more modern fantasy, the dialogue may come across as overly stiff and stilted to you, but to someone who enjoys the more classical fantasy, you may find the dialogue to be suited to you. This is all a manner of personal preference, and in full honesty, I myself am a fan of modern fantasy as opposed to more classical, so I will not make much more comment about the dialogue, understanding that I am probably not exactly the target audience and cannot give the best and most fair review of it.

And lastly, pacing. I feel like this is perhaps my most major criticism of the story, and though I do also think that editing could have smoothed out this rough edge of the story, I do think that addressing it might be a larger task than the others I've noted. The way that we are introduced to the Penitent Sanctuary, the way that the driving plot to this story is introduced, takes what I feel is far too long in set up before the pay off, to the point that I felt like the main plot of novel was only truly beginning to kick into effect in the last 40%. It means the first half of the novel feels slow, even though it is filled with action sequences, by the time you get to the end and really feel how the plot has weaved itself together. Without getting into spoilers, I felt that at least two or three of the nine characters who are part of the group could have easily found their way into the Penitent Sanctuary, and we would not have faced a significant loss from starting their story at that moment. What we learned as readers prior to that moment was nothing that could not have discovered through character narration and internal thought, and would have helped to create a forward drive in the narrative that to me, simply felt like it came too late. Related to this, but by 91% through the story, I also was at a loss for how one plotline felt simply... inconsequential. I didn't see how the character's plotline throughout the novel would tie into the end, so the chapters spent with that character felt like something from a different novel. Perhaps, this character and their plotline here is due to become important in another novel, but in this novel here, it felt extraneous.

Overall, there were problems with this novel, nothing that was too egregious, but things that could be improved by a little more time spent in editing and polishing. For a first outing by a debut indie author, I find A Sanctum of Swords to be impressive, with a vast world that is tremendously open for grand, epic stories, but the book itself can get a little bogged down from its lofty aspirations in the minutiae of description, purple prose and pacing issues. The bones are good and the story has potential, but it doesn't quite come together as a finalised product with a neat bow. That all being said, I'd certainly love to keep an eye on Malone's future as a writer and see what he produces in the future.

Rating: 3 Stars

If you liked the first one, you'll like the second.

I feel like a lot of my complaints from the first are still valid for the second. There was some improvement in utilising the strangeness of the woods and the mist, but ultimately, the book hasn't really improved much on anything I commented for the first book, and doubled down on some of the aspects that I wasn't so impressed by in the first, including the more “instant love” type situations.

We have extra viewpoints, still jumping around in POV style from first to third depending on the character narrating, but the story closes with enough narrative satisfaction to me. Would there have been things that I improved? Sure, definitely, but the story is decent enough for what it is. Will I remember it much beyond a couple of weeks? Probably not. But I enjoyed while I was reading, I understood the shape of it all, and it's not something I regret reading.

Overall, the duology is pretty middle of the road, nothing outstanding but nothing terrible either. It's not too demanding of the readers, it actually holds your hand a lot to guide you through the narrative, with a reasonably good driving plot. The plot isn't overly drawn out and artificially padded with fluff, so it makes for a relatively light read that is probably best suited for a rainy day with some dramatic classical music playing in the background for ambiance.

Rating: 1.5 stars

Despite the predictability of Fourth Wing, I thought maybe book two would improve upon the series. I didn't hate Fourth Wing, I just found it overly familiar to me, with a pacing that did a lot in its favour to hide the issues. Maybe, I thought, as the author settled into the fantasy genre, they would feel more at home deviating from cliches and predictable plot lines towards more originality, or at least deepen those plots. I was sorely disappointed. In almost every sense that I can think of, I enjoyed Fourth Wing more than I enjoyed Iron Flame, and I do not feel like the series has the capability to deepen or improve if this is the trend that Yarros is setting forth. Some of this may be due to the short time frame between publication of Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, but I honestly don't know if the all the fault can be laid there, as issues with Iron Flame feel more deeprooted than that.

For a quick spark notes version of my critiques:
- Characters felt even more two dimensional than from the last book, including the two protagonists. Whatever depth they had is hidden underneath repetitive arguments and plot points that circle back and around the same issue at least half a dozen times throughout the same book.
- The plot itself feels overly stretched thin, and so the book feels padded with other plotlines that feel like blatant filler and that do not really add anything to the story. The plot advanced, but for how thick this book was, it feels like it should have advanced far further. For one subplot that I found particularly tiresome, I've heard from an interview that Yarros included a character because, if it was a man, their actions would be seen as a power move. I raise the rebuttal that the same character has already been seen in the romantic fantasy genre as Tamlin, and no one enjoyed their actions in that story either, rendering the point moot.
- The romance feels entirely shallow. I did not fundamentally believe that these were two characters so in love that they would burn the world down for each other because they spent the entirety of the book either fighting or thinking about how much they wanted to have sex with each other. Yes, this is book 2, but a romance that is meant to hold and drive a series forward just as much as the world plot needs to show it has depth beyond two good looking characters find each other good looking and make grandiose statements. I would have loved smaller scenes showing their bonding and attempts to win back trust for one another to actually show that these two characters actually enjoyed each other's company beyond sex. In a small spoiler, a side character with only a few mentions of learning something to communicate with another side character made me feel more in their few sentences than all the big scenes between the two protagonists.
- Much of the plot feels like it needed a chance to be ironed out and strongly edited. For example, just before the squad returns to Basgiath with the excuse of being gravely injured delaying their return for War Games, why does one of their members decide to redye their brightly coloured hair? Is that not a dead give away that the squad was not, in fact, running and fearing for their lives? That kind of feeling of a plot being laid out hastily as the train is already leaving the station persists throughout much of the book.
- Yarros introduces a secondary magic system, but also makes errors with her own previous magic system. Either she purposely is leaving out information in the previous book for no particular reason, or much like the previous point, she's now considered a new angle and has spared little thought with it's integration. Why, for example, is Violet trying to move boulders using simple magics, when simple magics can only do things like open doors? Why are some people bonded with creatures able to wield lesser magics into something almost bordering a signet, when it's been clearly outlined that simple magics ordinarily can't do that? Some of these things could be clarified using a few sentences, maybe a different classification, but Yarros doesn't do this, and just lumps it all together and breaks her own rules. Fundamentally, I don't trust Yarros' magic systems, and her new system already makes me fear that it will become a deus ex machina when Yarros writes herself into a corner, as opposed to a true aspect of the world.
- In an addendum to this, it very much feels like some of the revealed aspects in this book were either revealed her just to make a sudden reveal or were only just thought of. There's no reason that some of the magic lore couldn't have been put into Fourth Wing as a little thread and then picked up here, as opposed to suddenly being dropped in her, especially when we consider that Violet is meant to be the daughter of a very skilled scribe, and has been around dragon riders all her life, AS WELL as the fact that the first years had multiple classes about dragons, signets, their magic etc. The fact that we are still learning fundamental aspects of magic lore that has no real reason to be hidden now gives the book very much a feel of Yarros made this up on the spot, and just jammed it into the pages.
- Once again, the world is populated with Red Shirts. I don't believe anyone is truly in danger, because Yarros will only kill just named characters for the first 80% of the book, and then decide to potentially place other characters in danger. If I don't believe the danger, it's that much harder for me to be invested in the scenario and your characters.
- Pet peeve, but I fully believe that the structure of Navarre is in easier to parse if you call it an Empire, rather than a kingdom. The provinces used to be kingdoms, ruled by families, and then unified under Navarre as Navarre had the capability to withhold a key resource if they didn't unite with them and let Navarre have central rule. In a world with so little worldbuilding, anything that can help the audience understand what you're trying to convey that much easier is needed.
- Character motivation is reduced very much to black and white, which... look, there's points to be made here about the discrepancy between the author's stance to war in the books vs their stance on the situation in Gaza, but that's not the main point here, because I'm coming at this review from a perspective of “all this is what is fundamentally wrong with this book, let alone what is wrong with the author”. The point is that anything interesting in the conflict in this book about a war and a revolution is so quickly squashed by the author into a comically black and white stance, where everyone is either good or so horrendous evil that they're always trying to [insert any horrendous act here]. If there was something grey or complicated to be found in this book about the nature of war and limited resources, Yarros quickly squashes it.
- Lastly, while we do get some acknowledgement of some of the issues found in Fourth Wing - for example, why does a school in need of riders cultivate an environment that fosters death and extreme violence? - it feels both too little and too late. If I have to read two books to understand a major piece of your setting, then you have revealed your hand far too late. The bare bones of your setting need to be understood quickly, within mere chapters. That understanding can be deepened over time, but the bare bones of it should be apparent quickly. Additionally, if that piece of your setting is then revealed to be so distinct and set apart from the rest of the world that your characters inhabit, you need to explain why. We know from Fourth Wing that the dragons don't necessarily view strength the same way that the humans do, but we still have no answers as to why the dragons allow the violence if they don't view strength the same way, or what happened in the past to put such a thought in the minds of Navarre? Was there perhaps a quote unquote “weak” rider at one stage who almost let a threat through their guarded position and almost lost the hatching grounds? A simple story like that, perhaps told when the cadets are sparring as a reminder of why they must be strong, would explain this fundamental viewpoint within the world and the culture, illustrating the need for strength as humans see it and highlight the importance placed on dragons and their hatching grounds, all while still existing in a scene of Violet having to struggle to overcome her disability. These are simple fixes that Yarros doesn't think about to problems Yarros doesn't care about, and the culmination of all of these things is a shallow and confused worldbuilding experience, and if your romance isn't pulling its weight either (as it was not, to me, in this book), then what you are left with is a shallow book that fulfills neither of its promises.

All in all, this book has not improved the series, needs editing, and leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. The ending leaves with a twist to hook readers in like the last book, but considering how the plot in this was handled, I have little interest in reading its resolution. Do I buy into the twist and its fundamental, world altering consequences? No, because for two books, Yarros has shown that danger is only relevant in about... the last fifty pages. Do I trust in the danger being real? No, because her magic system has been shown to be held together by tape, and she's introduced another system that has no known limits as she described them, which makes me feel like it's a deus ex machina waiting to happen. Do I emotionally care for these characters? No, because they have all been reduced to one or two notes, which is frustrating beyond belief. If you're happy with this book, I'm glad for you, but if you are widely read in the fantasy genre, or simply want to explore the genre further, please understand that there are better books out there for you that have better respect for its magic, its characters and fundamentally, its readers.

Rating: 1.5 stars

Ah, where to start. I would have thought that this would be a very different experience for me, because some of the things touched on here - magic, sainthood, divinity and the interplay between devotion, power, magic and worship - are all things I find as a very rich backdrop for a fantasy novel. In worlds where you can say, without hesitation, that gods are real, having characters deal with divinity in its various aspects has always intrigued me. Look no further than the Black Iron Legacy books, and how well I've raved on them and their “divinity is consumption” throughline. I loved it! And yet, we come here, and not only did the plot points fall flat, but I found myself moving between plain disinterest, complete disconnect with the story and even outright hatred of the main character.

In terms of overall structure and worldbuilding, if you've read any of the popular fantasy series in either the YA or romantasy categories, you're largely going to be familiar with the systems at play. Nothing here is groundbreaking. While you don't always have to reinvent the wheel to make something interesting, the hodge podge of what was on display made it feel like a patch work quilt of worldbuilding. Here are sacred animal bonds! Here are magic elemental or psychic powers! The worldbuilding however feels very... shallow. What type of fantasy world are we playing in? Who the heck knows! We've got sweaters, plunging necklines in dresses and restaurants, so it feels more akin to modern era, and yet, I don't think there was any type of plumbing mentioned in the slightest. The aesthetic of the world is entirely a blank space. Maybe that was by choice, but in the complete lack of information given, the world feels like a half thought out sketch.

There's a little more information regarding religion, as a book mentioning saints in the title should rightly have, but it doesn't fair much better. We get mentions to festivals celebrating and remembering parts of the world's history, but the festivals are more excuses for party scenes and people to dress up. We are told that the festival is celebrating say, the birth of magic or the sacrifice of Saint Evie (sidenote, using common diminutives of names for a renowned saint is not to my taste at all, and does not confer the right amount of reverence), but there is nothing in the scenes we are privy to that actually suggests any of these festivals are held with respect, awe and a sense of faith - so the dates and titles slide off the page and become just another strangely worded title. And maybe that's a pet peeve, but even the names at times felt awkward - the Blood Red Mountains, the Birthing festival. It all felt just too derivative, like the author could have delved in and made something more spectacular but took the easiest route. There are enough made up words throughout the text that I would have actually preferred that for every title as inane as Blood Red Mountains, they'd been replaced by a made up name. (In one quick note about this, the author used made up words enough that I was actively searching to find whatever root language they came from, not that I could find one easily. It would have added to the richness of the world if just a few of these more awkward names had had a similar treatment, and then the awkwardness of the translated name could be explained)

In terms of characters, they didn't win me over from the start. From the first chapter, we have our main viewpoint character killing people without hesitation, covered in blood without blinking an eye, and starting bar fights... even though she's a trained spy that is meant to be all but impossible to detect when she wants to be hidden. The next chapter, we have the same character mentally bemoaning that she is a monster and hates that she must kill people. The cognitive dissonance between how the character is meant to be portrayed - as a morally fraught individual who puts her own conscience at risk in the service of her people and her queen - and how she is actually portrayed - as a needlessly reckless, angry girl who never hesitates to inflict harm - was not something that I was able to move past. Staying in Aya's head felt like a chore, and I was actively wishing she could open her eyes to her actuality, so at least I could read about someone who was honest with themselves. The problem here though, isn't Aya's self deception, because that implies that Aya is knowingly deceiving herself - the fact is, Aya is written in such a way that the author tries to balance “cool badass warrior protagonist” with “morally right protagonist in a morally grey world” and so fails at it in such an utterly complete way. Small changes could have helped her toe the line, but the author doesn't consider these things. Once I had these complete disconnect between character and action, the character was broken for me, I couldn't believe in her struggles, because none of it felt real enough. Other characters didn't truly stand out to me - at least I felt something for Aya, but that's about it. For the two other viewpoint characters, for the main love interest, I couldn't believe in his fascination with Aya, and the other was just... well, boring. Predictable.

In terms of writing, there are infodumps. We are told, more than explained. We are told of the world's history and the importance of festivals, when a scene observing the sacred rites of a festival would have served a much more graceful way to impart the information. Worse, we are told that the characters are smart and cunning and patient, all that's needed to be the key advisors to a country's queen, and yet over and over, we see them be reckless, short tempered, jumping to conclusions and acting like a nineteen year old might. Sure, the characters aren't all that much older than that, but lord, did you feel the immaturity starkly when a few paragraphs later, we're treated to a description about how of course they had seen the manipulation, or had correctly guessed the root plan. At other times, the plot dangles mysteries in front of you that it will not solve at that moment of time, just scenes laid to make you wonder and guess and await the pay off seven chapters later. It felt like a carrot dangling in front of me, and when I was struggling to get through this book with its characters and slight world building, it felt almost galling. The plot also circles around several points, resolving them, dredging them back up, repeating again, for what feels like entirely too long. It could just be because I was so tired of being in the headspace of one character, didn't buy into another, and was bored by the third, but when the plot is circling the same premise for what feels like the fourth time with no real change in anyone's stance, it just feels needlessly repetitive.

And while I know this all sounds so very negative, it's because by the end of the book, there were points and themes that I genuinely would have loved to seen explored. When thinking about the disconnect of character and action and how I might have tried to navigate the two with the inclusion of a few more lines, perhaps of Aya being haunted by the image of blood on her hands, or ruminations of how she could have chosen a less deadly path if the need of the Queen hadn't pressed down on her so hard, I thought of how those inclusions could have enriched the narrative by adding more themes to it. By about a third of the way through, as the plot rolled along very predictable patterns, I put those thoughts to rest, all but convinced that the book was not going to explore those angles that I would have really dug my proverbial teeth into. And then, at about 80% through, those same themes and plotlines that I would have enjoyed but had put aside thinking them not going to happen, popped up! And all I could think was, “the groundwork here could have been laid at the very start, and it would have added to character and plot so much more than what I have now”.

This was a book of “what ifs” and “might have beens”. I should have been able to enjoy it, but clunky writing, info dumps and disconnect between characters and their actions turned me off so quickly and early in the book that it was nigh impossible for my enjoyment to be regained. As I fundamentally lost trust in the characters, I couldn't buy into the romance or their struggles, and then I couldn't care about what the plot did to them. In what should have been a book right up my alley, about magic, sainthood, divinity, the machinations of courts and spying, I came out of it not caring about... well, really any of it. There could have been something here, even if it was a wheel that hadn't been reinvented. Not all stories have to be the more inventive thing in the world to still be good and enjoyable. But at the heart of it, this was a book that couldn't get out of its own way, whether that was letting the characters be what they truly were or diving into themes it skates past, or even just letting the world be, rather than dictating to us what it is, which is a pity, because I think if it had gotten out of its own way, I could have enjoyed it.

Rating: 4.5 Stars

I loved this book. It was enchanting and magical and also a story for those that fairytales leave behind. It has a cast of characters that are both familiar and new, and has winks and nods to old fairytales and folklore. It is a blend of subversion and yet faithful homage to what a fairytale is, and for all of that, I loved it.

There is a Princess - but she is not the cleverest or the prettiest. There is a necromantic witch - but she is goodhearted if a little grumpy, with a demonic hen. There is a dog, constructed of bone, a killer with honour and a godmother who can't really do much. This is your cast, and you effortlessly love them. And they are on a quest to kill a Prince, before he kills the princess' sister. This is a story of love, the love for your family, the love you put out into the world, and watching this quest come together filled me with a kind of warmth and hope. This isn't a subversion of a fairytale world where we are led to believe that the villain was never the bad guy all along - it is a subversion because our characters are the ones who are usually left on the margins. It retains the fundamentally moral core of a fable, while remembering that people are human and whether one is beautiful or the most kind or the bravest doesn't dictate if we can be a hero of our own tale or not. Instead, it reminds us that to be our own hero is just the choice to be one, to act for the best for someone, even if you are afraid, even if you doubt your own ability.

The writing is not always the most verbose - it some cases I would even call it sparse - but it adds to the almost whimsical feel of it all. It feels like a tale being told to me over a fire, or before you fall sleep, by someone dear to me. The tale told is also one aware of itself - in this world, there are fairytales, there are miracles, and the main character Marra is aware of the nature of them. She muses over whether fairytales simply skim over the laundry in need of doing, or do they naturally speed along so much that laundry isn't a factor. These musings and glimpses of awareness ground the tale, and remind you that though this is a tale, it does not feel out of reach. It also adds humanity to it all, which gives you the feeling that maybe things might fail. There is a romantic aspect to the story, but it is very subdued, in the way that many fairytales told romance.

The book is relatively short, but I loved it. There was not a point where I set this book down and thought that I could do without reading it for a while. No, I wanted to dive in, and felt it was such a shame that my work schedule didn't allow for that. I wanted to see what happened, how Marra went about her impossible tasks and gathered herself for her quest. I wanted to unravel the tale somehow all at once and yet also slowly, unspooling the narrative thread with slow relish. I have only a few fairytale inspired stories that I love to read, again and again, for that feeling they give me, and Nettle and Bone will join their ranks as something magical and enchanting.

Rating: 4 stars

My initial thought coming out of this collection of short stories is that Andrzej Sapkowski understands fairytales. Fairytales and fables served a purpose within our society, back when books were not written for literary value, because the purchasing of ink and paper was too expensive and precious to be wasted on made up things. So what did society do instead? We told tales, passed down through generations, filled them with a meaning and a moral that we hoped to impart, and that was where storytelling was kept. Sapkowski, it seems to me, understands fairytales and folklore, and holds it with a respect in his heart, for though it's easy to dismiss fairytales as tales for children, the reality is, they are tales for people, irrespective of age. The only thing that truly changes about the tales we read as we get older is the message hidden in the middle of it, and how willing we are to see it.

As a collection of stories, these are all based off folklore and even a few fairytales, though Sapkowski often subverts or draws from older material as opposed to the more modern interpretations of the tales. There isn't however, sly winks and nods at the fact that he is subverting these tales. All too common it seems with subversions of tropes, it has to be done in such a great way, to make you understand that this is not a fairytale. The favourite ways seem to be in great displays of bloodshed, either towards the protagonist, to make these tales more adult (and therefore, one might argue, worthy of respect) or towards the villains. One of the more straight forward examples I can give is of George R. R. Martin and his treatment of Sansa, who is the prototypical captured princess - through ASOI&F, she is subjected to cruelty and violence all around her, and while we do understand that her story is a subversion, because Sansa is outgrowing her role as captured princess and has begun to rescue herself, it is not without throwing heaping helpings of violence to motivate her. You read the passages and wish that GRRM had found a different way to make his story more adult, rather than simply including sex and violence as a shorthand to do so.

That isn't to say that the Witcher world doesn't have sex, or violence. It has both. But I did not feel when reading these stories that they were used as shorthand of “this is an adult story”. What made me feel like these stories were adult fairytales were what they reckoned with - contemplations of aspects of love, racism, failures of families, the weight of fate, faith, the nature of man and what we chose to be. The sex and violence felt in service to a greater thought that Sapkowski was exploring through Geralt's experiences. It held within it the heart of an adult fable.

In terms of an introduction to the Witcher world, I did come out feeling like I wanted more. Obviously, these short stories were written separately, and before the Witcher book series was a distinct thought in the author's mind as far as I'm aware. I can't truly expect that have all the base world lore explained to me, because I'm not entirely sure that Sapkowski had it all there when he was writing. But it was an interesting glimpse into the world that did have me heading to Google to try and get the background information that I wanted, so it definitely did intrigue. As someone who watched the Netflix adaptation first (don't strike me down), the characters felt like I imagined they would have, but with the obvious benefit of some added depth. Because I watched the adaptation first, I feel I can't really say how the character traits came across, because my initial reactions were coloured by my prior knowledge, but I felt like I could see a kernel in each character that would have endeared me to all of them from the start, even if I hadn't. For a world like the Witcher, which is meant to be darker and more morally ambiguous, I appreciated that when we met the characters, we saw that they all still managed to care for others. It's something that makes the Witcher stand aside from ASOI&F in my mind - even though the world feels darker, I feel like I still have hope in this world, for the characters, for their story, because even when they are facing down mortal peril, they still care about the others around them enough to try and save them.

For my one real negative, it would be that Sapkowski's prose is very sparse. Whether this is because of translation issues, the sheer nature of the Polish language or just that these were written as a collection of short stories rather a novel, I'm not sure. But if you come into this book expecting sweeping descriptions and beautiful metaphors, this is not that book for you. You seem to get just enough description to paint the barest framing for the story, and then the narration moves along. Dialogue can be quite heavy to move the story from A to B, and so if you are someone who is listening to an audiobook and prone to switching in and out of focus (or if you find yourself idly skimming), I would perhaps try an alternate method of reading to get the most of it. I did enjoy my introduction to the Witcher, and I will be reading onwards, but it is something that you need to be aware of, at least when going into this collection of short stories - the writing style may need some level of adjustment to get used to. In other notes, sometimes I did have a moment or two of going “this was definitely written by a man”, but nothing too egregious.

But otherwise, if you like folklore and fairytales but want it a bit more adult, without the copious amounts of sex and violence to act as the shorthand to make it so, then I'd recommend trying these short stories.

Rating: 1.75 stars

You ever in a situation where you've read a bunch of chunkier books, you've been mired in fantasy worldbuilding, and you just need somewhere to go to have a good old time and not tax the mind? Well, that was me, so here I went. What could go wrong, I thought - a bit of rock and roll, a drummer lead so you can make all the jokes about banging something else, it'll be light and fluffy, like candy cotton.

And yet, even with that as my expectations, I just came away from it going “....what?”. The characters talk in ways that no actual human beings do, I was willing to let the cliches slide except for the sheer amount of them and how much my brain had to turned off to enjoy them, and I just didn't really buy into anything at all? It was like the author had a dartboard filled with cliches and used that to select the basis of her novel - forced proximity, jaded/sunshine, fake dating, love at first sight. I think the entirety of the novel spans like two months, maybe, including a post time skip for an epilogue.

If you don't want to think, just want to turn your brain completely off, this is a book for you. Don't get me wrong, I love a good romance. Yes, fantasy is my main genre, but I love a good romance for the warm fuzzy feelings and the way that things work out and people are usually decent and good and kind. Romance as a genre to me is a warm blanket, it's that favourite movie you watch on a dreary Sunday when the weather is cold and the world seems uninviting (that movie is also the Mummy). So this review shouldn't be taken as the uppity fantasy snob who came into the genre and tore it down for conventions, because this is not that. I came into this book fully primed to enjoy it, and yet when I got here, I wasn't left feeling warm and fluffy. Fundamentally I came away from it going this wasn't even candy cotton, it was eating too much cheap chocolate frosting that tastes too artificial to be truly enjoyed until you felt queasy.

Rating: 3.5 stars.

Overall, I liked this book, but it certainly left me feeling like it was lacking in some departments. The kernel of the story that we are introduced to is intriguing - necromancy, other magics, revolutions and coups! - but it also feels like the author gets in their own way some times by moving the set pieces forward when I, as a reader, would prefer to linger in the moment and let it breathe for a minute or two. That kind of feeling, of skimming through the story rather than diving in deep pervaded my entire reading experience, and it's where the heart of my rating comes from. In terms of themes in this book, I was entirely here for it. Themes of choice and freedom and autonomy, of how we act defining us and also the weight of memories. There's aspects to this book that harken back to the original Grimm fairytales, and yet when I wanted the author to dive in - to the Alanga, to the new magic or the old magic or the grief of characters - it felt like she never took the chance, which really hurt my ability to want to belong in this world.

Some things that stood out to me: of the five viewpoint characters, two are in first person narration, with the remaining three in third person narration. I thought perhaps there was a time difference that separated the narratives and could explain this, but no, this isn't true. The change in narration style felt therefore confusing and without merit as of yet. When we were in character's heads, it felt like there was a lot of telling as opposed to showing, which led to the first person narratives especially feeling like we were having the tale told to us, rather than seeing it through the character's eyes. One example that stood out to me was a character literally narrating that they were so frustrated that they wanted to tear their hair out, and that was all we truly got to denote that frustration. This book is the author's debut, so some of this could tighten up on subsequent novels, but it did strike me here.

Returning to the plot skimming point, by about halfway through, it became very apparent to me that every chapter from Lin's perspective was about getting from point A to point B. All the perspectives suffer from this to some degree, but Lin's was most glaringly obvious. This felt like it damaged the story because it didn't set the stage anywhere near enough for why Lin was doing what she was doing, or why she knew the Empire needed to change. We had no scenes to see these things, nothing shown to us inside of Lin's perspective outside a mention or two of physical abuse on her father's adoptive/foster son, that would warrant Lin's current goal until the very end of the book. This makes her entire motive throughout the book feel hollow, because we are truly only privy to her perspective in the majority of the book at the moment of action, rather than any of the rising tension stages of her story. Perhaps the author simply had too much story to tell amongst her five viewpoints to give them all the room to breathe that they needed, but I do feel like the overall story does suffer from constantly moving from plot point to plot point.

Overall, I wanted to be hooked into this book much more than it actually hooked me. While I might continue the series on to see the plot through - because it truly does intrigue me. Why are islands sinking? Does it have to do with the fact that islands move? Why are Alanga artefacts awakening? What kind of creature is Mephi and what does that mean? What does Sand intend to do? Will Lin ultimately succeed? - at this stage, it will be by borrowing the books from the library and not buying them. This may just be the first rough beginning from a debut author, destined to be the unpolished diamond amongst an illustrious career, but the issues I had reading this book did hurt my enjoyment of it in such a way that if I had to only continue the series through buying books, I'm not sure I could honestly justify it for myself.

Rating: 4 stars

Oh, this series. I love it. I love its take on divinity. I love its weirdness, its macabre nature. Long story short, I can't wait to get my hands on book 3 - thank God I don't have to wait long, as the series is completed.

If the Gutter Prayer was about the dirty, grimy underbelly of the criminal side to a city, then the Shadow Saint is about the grimy underbelly of politics. This is a book of politics and betrayal, ploys and plots and people being moved about as pawns, and I loathed it and loved it for it in equal measure, because I knew that while I wanted as a reader to see it be a story of people rising to ideals, I also knew it wasn't that story, and Ryder-Hanrahan stayed true to the characters around him. It makes those moments that aren't about such things count more, and makes you appreciate the instances of morals, ethics and ideals as the standouts that they are.

Onto some details. If you're going into this book expecting a straight continuation of the story of Cari, Spar and Rat, you will be disappointed. I was at first when I realised that the viewpoint characters of this novel are not the ones we've just spent a book in the minds of. But when you put that behind you, you can find a new cast of viewpoint characters to settle in with. We still see Cari, Spar and Rat, but they are not the whole focus. The storyline does follow through on seeds planted in the Gutter Prayer, and so it feels like a natural continuation. But a band of thieves is not who is politicking, so the plot has shifted its lens to more appropriate characters, notably a spy, a soldier turned spy, and Eladora Duttin. It's a credit to Ryder-Hanrahan as well, because when I left the Gutter Prayer, I was very ambivalent about Eladora, who I would say is the most central viewpoint character of the book. I didn't hate her, but the idea of spending a book inside her mind did make me feel let down. Except, somehow, a third of the way through this book, I was incensed because someone was taking advantage of my prim, prissy scholar, and how dare they? Now, I care about Eladora, and to the other characters, having wants and hopes for their resolutions. Ryder-Hanrahan is a writer who can worm characters inside your mind, and make you care about them, even if you didn't think you would at the offset.

Plotwise, by the end of the last book, Guerdon had unleashed a godbomb, and that trial run now comes back to bite the city on its ass. Guerdon has risked its one most important asset, its neutrality in the Godswar, by showing the world that it has created a weapon capable of destruction of the gods, and it becomes very quickly apparent that other forces in the world are now looking at Guerdon and its godbombs with fear and desire. Through this plot, the worldbuilding is expanding outside of Guerdon. We gain a better understanding of the many gods of the world and the scope of the Godswar, and how it has destroyed many peoples lives in ways both big and small. The nature of divinity and consumption is very laid out, to the point where you understand that in a war of Gods, humanity is nothing more than a fuel to be burned through, a plainly stated fact that Ryder-Hanrahan does nothing to hide. Though the fact could be argued to be overstated through the book, perhaps hammered home too many times, the fact also is that it is needed so that you understand exactly why a Godswar is a terrible thing to behold. In the prior book, it was a distant madness consuming the world that Guerdon was safe from. Here, the threat of it is much more present, and the grotesque glory of the gods is approaching quickly on the horizon. Through this book, we see what it is the Guerdon is facing down. The threat feels real, and the human cost to it is plain. Humanity to gods is a candle, and they will burn through all of them to get where they want to go. You understand the exact desperation of people to flee the Godswar, to be far away from it at any cost, and what exactly Guerdon has jeopardised by announcing their godbomb's efficiency in the prior book.

In my previous flaws I noted in Ryder-Hanrahan's writing, it feels like a lot of that has cleared up. The writing is easier to follow, but one could argue that is because the viewpoint in this book does not have to contend with being the many perspectives of bells. The one other thing I noted was the absence of needlessly complicated words. Previously, I noted that at times it felt like reading a book written by someone who had a PhD in English and had forgotten to who they were writing, but not in this book. There may have been one or two instances of words that felt too complicated for the message being given, but far fewer. The end effect is that the book is easier to parse, and you don't get pulled out of the story for a desperate moment to look up a word.

Much like in the Gutter Prayer, the plot itself may seem to wind slowly up, giving you separate scenes that feel disjointed, but by the end, you see it has all come together into a tapestry, and each thread feels necessary. Necessary though it is, there can be a few sections that drag on a little. Not enough to put you off entirely, but you wonder when it is that the shape of the plot is coming together, especially as my copy of the book had a very sparse blurb that told me very little of what was coming. I took it on faith that Ryder-Hanrahan would spin something together that made sense, and it did, but at times I did wonder, what was the book I was reading about? What was it talking about?

Overall, I enjoyed the book. I enjoy the series. Gareth Ryder-Hanrahan has me intrigued enough in his plot and his writing that I'm considering buying another book from him, not even from this series, just because of how the way he has written these two books has given me a level of trust in him, and that's a wonderful thing to feel. I've read books where I've left the book feeling disappointed, feeling unsure on continuing, and that's not what's happened here. I've left the Shadow Saint feeling intrigued and eager for more. I feel the premise of the book was paid off, I feel that what I thought we were exploring was explored, maybe not entirely thoroughly, but enough to satiate me. Moreover, I feel like I have an idea of what comes next Spoiler(if I had to guess, now an exploration in the underbelly of wartime), and I want to dig in.