Wren

If you love someone, you must let them change.

Absolutely my favorite in The Singing Hills Cycle, and it couldn't have come at a better time for me. Just a day before picking it up I was sitting around stuck in my head, thinking about how sometimes we kind of become what we grieve—and that's exactly one of the concepts this novella explores, along with other facets of grief, change, survival, coming back, and moving forward, and, as always, the theme of stories, and of memory being stronger than death. 

Where the previous installments were more about going out into the world looking for people's stories, here Cleric Chih returns to the Singing Hills Abbey to reconnect with their neixin Almost Brilliant, their friends, and their home in general. But they've met by the sight of strangers with mammoths at the gates; their mentor is dead; and their best friend is still their friend but also the acting divine, and both of them have changed. I found Chih extremely relatable over the entire story, and at quite a few points found myself really wanting to give them a hug. I'm glad to have more of an insight into them as their own character and not just someone who helps the reader experience others' stories.

I also really hope to see more of the Singing Hills Abbey in the next installments, perhaps under less sad, more normal circumstances. It's such a beautiful place, and even with the grief storylines and the looming danger, I could feel all the kindness and connections permeating it. I also loved seeing so many neixin in one place, each with such a big personality.

No matter what happens, I’m a stronger man now because of you.

A bit of a mixed bag for me, emotions/vibes-wise, but ultimately, such a good book. I really appreciated the portrayal of being hard of hearing. It was so immersive, really showcasing the day-to-day challenges and frustrations, but also the joys found in moments when accessibility needs are met. I also generally loved the approach to writing someone who’s disabled and has a history of depression. It’s just extremely believable, and I empathized with Ethan so hard. At times, I did feel he came too close to throwing a self-pity party (not an undeserved one, let’s be honest), but he remained so open to letting something good into his life, it really made me root for him. I was happy to see him get out of the dark place he started in.

Clay’s part of the story was perhaps even more compelling to me. He’s such a kind and brave person, and did I mention kind? We all need more Clays around. I’m not often a fan of late bloomer identity discovery narratives, but this one was so thoughtfully and tenderly done. It was great to see this character take a step into the unknown and be so willing to learn about himself and others. I really enjoyed his relationship with his daughter and, almost even more so, the bond he retained with his ex-wife. Also, he seems like a great dog dad (and what an adorable dog he has), that earns him extra points in my book!

Despite the fact that the two POVs switch up fairly consistently every 1-2 chapters throughout the story, I was left with the distinct feeling that roughly the first half of the book, the one where they were on their trip/tour around Australia, was Ethan’s part, and then after that, it was Clay’s part. Interestingly enough, the first half also felt practically like a slow burn, even though not much time has passed at all, and the second was where everything picked up the pace. Which again contributed to that “Ethan’s part, Clay part” feeling, because I think for Ethan, despite the tight timeframe, the whole thing was a gradual climb out of the pit the double betrayal in the beginning left him in. While for Clay, things were somewhat more whirlwind.

I did have some uncertainty around the fact that for Ethan, this romance was basically a rebound. But I feel like the author did a good job acknowledging the potential pitfalls and working with them instead of glossing them over. I also liked how the situation with his ex cheating was handled within the narrative: Michael and Todd weren’t portrayed as wrong for *what* they wanted, but they were held fully responsible for *how* they handled it.

All in all, this is a sensitively handled, well-researched story with lots of much needed kindness in it.

To tell a story is in some part to tell a lie, isn't it? 

I've been looking forward to this book so much, but now that I'm done with it, I'm mainly just confused. There were definitely some interesting moments here, and I think as a whole I would have enjoyed it a little bit more if my expectations weren't so high. I definitely enjoyed the first couple of chapters with the medieval/gothic atmosphere and the contrast between all the religious mysticism and the Diviners being just girls. I was intrigued and wanted to know what was next, but I don't think anything in this book ever lived up to the first chapters. 

I've seen The Knight and the Moth praised for its worldbuilding. There were a bunch of aspects of it I found intriguing, such as the sprites and the whole concept of Omens (though the logistics of how that concept was executed in practice low-key boggled my mind). Each location had some cool evocative descriptions that drew me in, especially the Fervent Peaks and Bellidine. But I never felt truly immersed, because at every step of the way I just had so many questions about how this was supposed to actually work. The geography of it, the economy, the politics, it never came together. It felt like a rough sketch of a setting, a bunch of cool ideas to be explored, interrogated, and pulled together for real. 

I've seen it praised for its prose, to which I say, eh. There were definitely some great descriptions, some fun moments of banter, some good turns of phrase. But the overall effect was clunky and all over the place, because the prose kept swinging back and forth between pseudo-medieval style with all the proper names for various parts of the cathedral or pieces of armor and quippy, snappy modern dialogue. Also, if I see one paragraph ending on an em dash or ellipsis with the conclusion placed on a separate line, I'm going to scream, I swear. It's a cool stylistic device! It can be used to great effect at appropriate times! I love it when it's used in moderation! But multiple times per page? Come on. You've got to be kidding me. Same with all the sentence fragments separated by full stops and a bunch of other small things that are supposed to be the spice, not the bulk of the metaphorical meal. 

I've seen people gush about the gargoyle character, saying how precious he was and what a great comic relief he made. I don't disagree per se, but I also never became a fan. I do agree this character was among the better parts of the book. I called that big reveal about him back in the first half of the novel, but the way it was handled was satisfying enough, and he's got some of my favorite bits of dialogue.  I've seen people mention that the plot felt like a video game with a set of locations to visit and bosses to fight, and with that, I agree wholeheartedly. This shouldn't be a bad thing in itself; there are books that do great things with novelizing game-like narratives like that. The key, I feel, is to be self-aware about this aspect of the plot and to deliberately play with the related tropes. Which is something I feel The Knight and the Moth attempted at the beginning, what with the MC essentially joining the party mid-quest, but then it was just a straightforward drag of “visit place, fight a boss, get a McGuffin,” and the repetitiveness made it harder and harder for me to actually focus on the events. Like, what did it matter what happened in each hamlet if at the end clearly they'd get the McGuffin and move on to the next one. Also I felt like the structure only made the shaky parts of the worldbuilding stand out more. 

I did enjoy the romance quite a bit. The progression from enemies to lovers was fairly quick, but there was a nice overlap between those two states of relationship, and I liked how the two characters challenged each other's assumptions and made each other grow. Also, while I didn't think the final twist was, let us say, elegantly handled, mostly once again due to the worldbuilding it's mired in being so half-baked, I liked how it slightly recontextualized the entire story that came before it. There are definitely a lot of aspects to this story that make me feel it could have been an awesome book after a few more rounds of in-depth editing, from developmental to structural to line editing. As it is now though, idk, it just confuses me. I think Rachel Gillig is not an author for me. 

“I know it’s scary, Nat, but people change. They’re allowed to change. They’re allowed to try and be better than what they were before. And when we care about them, then we need to support them.”

This is a book I didn’t know I needed. I feel like I’ve become a really angry and unapologetic person lately, what with, you know. *gestures at the state of the world, the news, the geopolitics* Everything. It’s easy to look at people who choose to participate in hurting others and wish them away. But sometimes, people can choose to change, to build a different future without losing accountability of that past, and this book was a good reminder of that. Perhaps the approach it took to the subject was a bit too saccharine at times, what with it being a feel-good cozy fantasy romance first and foremost, but there was a certain depth to it, too, and a good reminder that we are never locked in our choices forever. As long as life goes on, so do the choices.

I have to say one thing that interfered with my enjoyment of the story was lack of clarity about the protagonist’s motivations. It’s over 60% into the book that we finally learn *why* she choose to stop being a villain. I actually think the reveal was done pretty well; when it happens, you instantly see all the breadcrumbs leading up to it, and so much begins to make sense. But at the same time, while I appreciate how it was handled on a technical level, I’m not sure it was the right choice to withhold this specific bit of information like that. Especially since there was another secret/twist tied to it, so that one could have been concealed for just as long and have the same impact when revealed. But the protagonist’s motivation, especially when the protagonist is on a redemption arc, is something that I feel should be made clearer from the start. Because for a long time it felt like Violet mostly decided to switch from evil to good “just because,” or maybe like the author expected the reader to fill in that gap on their own, and it really messed with my immersion.

Outside of that, though, I really enjoyed most aspects of the book, particularly the romance. From the blurb I expected the MC and the LI to slowly change their opinions of each other as they work together to save the town from the blight. But the truth is, they start working on understanding each other before they even know there’s a blight, and that’s what enables them to work together to combat it, which is an approach I loved even more. I also appreciated that each of them has their own redemption arc with a distinct flavor.

Also, I generally enjoyed getting to know the town of Dragon’s Rest and the supporting characters. Pru especially is my favorite, I love what a great bard she makes, and her relationship with Nathaniel, and how determined she was to befriend Violet in the start. If the author decides to turn this into a series, I hope Pru gets her own book. Or at least gets an even more prominent role, if the potential sequel still follows Violet mainly.

Other random things that stuck with me:

• The small flashbacks about Violet’s past relationship with Guy Shadowfade. There was a bit of a Silco and Jinx vibe there, and really, the whole thing hurt in just the right way.
• While the plant magic Violet wielded was too vague and whatever-the-plot-demands for me, I liked the descriptions of alchemy and how invested Nathaniel was in his alchemical work.
• The rock goblins! THE CUTEST.

I’m really excited to read whatever Emily Krempholtz writes next, and I do hope she revisits this setting, because there’s a lot of series potential here. The story feels even a little incomplete, come to think of it. Not in a glaring sort of way, but there’s definitely stuff that could be explored further!

Is there anything in this scenario that feels heterosexual or well-adjusted to you?

Well, this was a trip, and I loved practically every minute. It's a messy story of grief and codependency, and while Andrew isn't the most likable MC I've ever met, to put it mildly, I also found him incredibly relatable. To tell the truth, no character in this book was 100% likable (Riley came closest?), but plenty of them made me feel for them and kept me intrigued. Sam in particular was a great character to follow throughout the story as he revealed more and more of himself, like piling back layers of an onion. And West's subplot, although rather small, was one of my favorite things about the book. And then there's Eddie, who exists in the plot purely as a memory full of contradictions, never to be resolved. 

The writing style here really stuck with me. It's incredibly... sensory? Tactile? There's sure a lot of emphasize on bodies—Andrew is constantly aware of his own muscles and bones, and everyone around him—and physical sensations in general. It was interesting to see how the author focused on all the physicality and through that brought emotions to life. I'm usually the opposite, both in how I write and how I perceive the world, and I'm also not a super visual reader, but the prose here really pulled me into the story and the setting and made me experience some scenes as though I were watching a movie.

As for the plot, if I had to describe the story in one word, I'd pick “liminal.” Andrew spends pretty much the entire thing stuck between things. The past and the present/future. His memories of Eddie and the true legacy Eddie left him. The orderly cut-throat academic world and the wild freedom of nighttime drives with the bad crowd. The sunlit summer in the real world and the cold land of the ghosts. Grief has a way of trapping you in the moment, in that empty page between chapters, especially when you're grieving someone you had a weird codependent relationship with, doubly so when they abandoned you even before they died, and Mandelo captures the feeling masterfully while also crafting a great southern gothic horror story. There are so many nested secrets here, the mystery Andrew investigates and the one he keeps from the reader, as well as the things he doesn't understand about himself that everyone else does. Also, I'm torn between wanting a sequel, because I so much want to know how Andrew and the people around him fare now that his amber bubble is burst and the next chapter begins, and being completely, utterly, 100% satisfied with the final scene.

For all of my praise, however, there are aspects of the book that won't let me five-star it. For once, the story is incredibly masculine. That in itself isn't a flaw; such stories have their place. But literally all the women in the plot only exist to drive the male characters' storylines further, in a variety of ways. They're pretty much all more plot devices than characters, tools that resolve plot questions, trigger events, or bring forth necessary revelations while exhibiting zero character traits that aren't 100% relevant to their role in the plot. That's a stark and unpleasant contrast to the way more nuanced handling of male characters, and it didn't sit well with me. Like, come on. This has good trans rep, this has decent poly rep that compares and contrasts healthy and unhealthy dynamics in a throuple, but somehow female characters get this odd treatment? Why?

Another part I wasn't fully satisfied with was the dark academia aspect. The academic parts of the book were so often pushed to the curb or just briefly summarized without proper focus, and considering how crucial that part of the story turned out to be for the main plot resolution, that was just... weird. Finally,  for me it felt like the author went overboard with all the substance abuse. At some point, all the mentions of drugs and alcohol started feeling like they were just there to make the story darker and edgier.

PS: I'm kind of convinced that Lee Mandelo had my favorite Placebo song (Kings of Medicine) on repeat while writing this, because if not, then how?