Wren
I have no interest in being a man. What I want is to be a knight.
I think we need a new subgenre called “faux historical romance.” This book would fit there seamlessly, right alongside Emma R. Alban's works—because it's a medieval story exactly to the same extent as Alban's queer romances are Regencies. These books deliberately, knowingly sacrifice historical accuracy in favor of the pop culture understanding of the time period, keeping the bits that would help tell a fun story and forgetting the rest. As for the characters, the dialogue, or the way the conflicts get resolved, all of those is kept pointedly modern. Some readers find this approach grating, and I can totally understand that, although I personally see it as a refreshing change of pace. You just have to know what you're getting into.
My favorite part of the story without a doubt was the omniscient narrator. For the most part, this warm yet snarky all-knowing voice faded politely into the background, leaving the spotlight on whichever girl the given chapter was focusing on. However, during the interludes (or, as they're called here, the interstitials) it shined openly on its own, rife with that irreverent tongue-in-cheek quality I often seek to bring into my GM narration when I run tabletop games. It was just a very familiar type of humor that delighted me to no end.
And then of course there's the story itself, with it's slightly nonsensical premise and fun, earnest characters who are both looking for the keys to their respective cages and eventually find a way out together. I suppose I could poke at how strange it was for Gwen to be so successful in the tournament with her minimal training compared to all the actual seasoned knights, or how piling up a second fake identity on top of the ruse she already had going was just asking for trouble. I could also prod at the detours and budding subplots that went nowhere, and how they may have added to the vibes, but at the expense of muddling the main story. But you know what, the book made me smile so often, I can forgive it its little blunders. After all, it so explicitly doesn't take itself seriously—why shouldn't I follow suit?
Reccing this to everyone who just wants some good mindless fun with a feminist and sapphic bend; who sees the word “medieval” and immediately thinks about castles, jousts, and dragons; who enjoys movies like the 2022 Rosaline and would love something in that vein but queer. If you want something with a more genuinely historical feel and sapphic characters though, perhaps look at Tessa Gratton or Nicola Griffith.
I have no interest in being a man. What I want is to be a knight.
I think we need a new subgenre called “faux historical romance.” This book would fit there seamlessly, right alongside Emma R. Alban's works—because it's a medieval story exactly to the same extent as Alban's queer romances are Regencies. These books deliberately, knowingly sacrifice historical accuracy in favor of the pop culture understanding of the time period, keeping the bits that would help tell a fun story and forgetting the rest. As for the characters, the dialogue, or the way the conflicts get resolved, all of those is kept pointedly modern. Some readers find this approach grating, and I can totally understand that, although I personally see it as a refreshing change of pace. You just have to know what you're getting into.
My favorite part of the story without a doubt was the omniscient narrator. For the most part, this warm yet snarky all-knowing voice faded politely into the background, leaving the spotlight on whichever girl the given chapter was focusing on. However, during the interludes (or, as they're called here, the interstitials) it shined openly on its own, rife with that irreverent tongue-in-cheek quality I often seek to bring into my GM narration when I run tabletop games. It was just a very familiar type of humor that delighted me to no end.
And then of course there's the story itself, with it's slightly nonsensical premise and fun, earnest characters who are both looking for the keys to their respective cages and eventually find a way out together. I suppose I could poke at how strange it was for Gwen to be so successful in the tournament with her minimal training compared to all the actual seasoned knights, or how piling up a second fake identity on top of the ruse she already had going was just asking for trouble. I could also prod at the detours and budding subplots that went nowhere, and how they may have added to the vibes, but at the expense of muddling the main story. But you know what, the book made me smile so often, I can forgive it its little blunders. After all, it so explicitly doesn't take itself seriously—why shouldn't I follow suit?
Reccing this to everyone who just wants some good mindless fun with a feminist and sapphic bend; who sees the word “medieval” and immediately thinks about castles, jousts, and dragons; who enjoys movies like the 2022 Rosaline and would love something in that vein but queer. If you want something with a more genuinely historical feel and sapphic characters though, perhaps look at Tessa Gratton or Nicola Griffith.