Ratings48
Average rating4
2025 is my year of unfiltered honesty, and we’re off to an interesting start. My first read of the year was a lackluster 2.5 stars (generously rounded up to 3), but this one? A steady, dependable 3 stars. I picked it up for a group read, and while I still found myself craving more depth, there’s something to be said for a book that’s as cozy as a blanket fresh from the dryer.
The charm of this story lies in its cottagecore vibes and whimsical softness—exactly what I needed after the more intense energy of my first book this year. And can we talk about Caz, the sentient, anxiety-ridden plant? Hands down my favorite character. I never knew I needed botanical existentialism in my life until now.
The story follows Kiela, a fugitive librarian from the magical Great Library of Alyssium, who returns to the island of her childhood to escape her past. She’s grappling with fear, grief, anxiety, and PTSD, all while trying to start over by running a jam shop. Oh, and she’s also selling illegal magic on the sly, with Caz (the aforementioned talking plant) as her assistant.
Oddly, it’s a book where very little happens, yet I was never bored. The townsfolk are brimming with personality, Kiela’s awkward chaos feels deeply relatable, and her neighbor—a pastry-wielding handyman with swoon-worthy kindness—adds just the right amount of sweetness.
Sure, it’s all a bit too wholesome. Conflicts are resolved with unrealistic ease, the stakes are more like background noise, and the climax felt… well, more like a polite handshake than a dramatic flourish. But you know what? Sometimes, that’s exactly what you want.
It’s a story where the real drama revolves around nosy neighbors, snarky customers, and the occasional mishap. The politics are muddled, the world-building has some questionable patches, but Caz—the plant with a penchant for relatable one-liners—roots the whole thing in a kind of magical realism I didn’t expect to enjoy so much.