Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier is one of the best books I’ve read this year, enchanting from the first page. I’ve been longing for a storyDaughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier is one of the best books I’ve read this year, enchanting from the first page. I’ve been longing for a story and prose just like this. Already I want to read it again, to wring out every emotion and savor each word.
This book is a tragic historical fantasy retelling of the Six Swans fairy tale. In the traditional story, a young girl’s six brothers are turned into swans by a sorceress. In order to break the curse, the sister must remain completely silent until she sews six shirts from stinging nettles, which will turn the swans back into her brothers. Daughter of the Forest is set in early Ireland and follows Sorcha, a young healer with the unflinching devotion and strength of will to embark on this agonizing task. Although the book maintains the feel of a folktale with the writing style and the incorporation of mystical magic, Marillier adds more to the story than the Six Swans detailed, most notably the historical backdrop and the divide between two cultures, which Sorcha must confront.
The writing style is indescribably beautiful. Every sentence feels like something living and breathing, like a brief glimpse of the forest, the sea, a character’s subtle expression. Marillier has a gift for giving specific and heartbreaking detail without overwriting emotions or descriptions. Even though Daughter of the Forest is quite dense, it is not unnecessarily so, and it never slowed down enough to lose my attention.
I fell in love with the characters, with their sweetness and insight and desolate hurt that felt like a ruthless fist around my heart. It’s been a while since I’ve been so enraptured by a full cast of characters. I was worried that I wouldn’t care for the brothers individually, since there are six of them, but Marillier made them each unique and flawed in their own ways. I was especially attached to Conor and Finbar. The beautiful bond between the siblings and their shared strength is one of the many highlights of this book. It prevents the plot—particularly Sorcha’s unwavering determination to accomplish her task—from becoming unrealistic and hard to believe.
It’s difficult to write an interesting character who is so kind and good, especially when the story is told from one perspective. But Sorcha is more than interesting; her pain, her love for her brothers, her wisdom, every bitter challenge she faces with gentle strength—it all feels real. She is one of my new favorite fictional characters. I can already imagine myself asking what Sorcha would do in the face of difficult decisions. Although Daughter of the Forest is not a happy story and gets more painful as it progresses, leading to a melancholy ending that left me with tears in my eyes, I was still inspired by the characters. There is considerable beauty in this book along with the sorrow.
The Six Swans is my favorite folktale, and this is my new definitive retelling of it. I can’t fathom any way to do the story justice better than Juliet Marillier already has. Daughter of the Forest is impossibly good.
Sometimes I think Alice Oseman books have captured a part of my soul that nothing else has managed to describe in exactly the right words. Her storiesSometimes I think Alice Oseman books have captured a part of my soul that nothing else has managed to describe in exactly the right words. Her stories are streams of consciousness, explorations of identity, odes to teenage senescence. Dedicated to kids who have no idea who they are but are figuring it out together, kids who are sad and empty and lost and trying to remember where they used to fit in the world, kids who feel a little bit broken until they find the platonic soulmate who fills the gaps. Solitaire is radiant.
All the people are chatting and laughing and smiling and it sort of makes me feel a bit sad, like I’m watching them through a dirty window.
I find one song that I really love and then I listen to it about twenty billion times until I hate it and have ruined it for myself.
Someone’s banging on the door of the bathroom. I’ve been in here for ages just staring at myself in the mirror, watching my eyes tear up and dry and tear up and dry.
“I’m a little bit in love with everyone I meet.”
I listen to the dark. They’re all coming to get you. Your heartbeats are footsteps.
I wish I could say this book isn't relevant anymore. I wish I could read The Handmaid's Tale and not see the very real possibility that this could be I wish I could say this book isn't relevant anymore. I wish I could read The Handmaid's Tale and not see the very real possibility that this could be our future.
This reality, however, is unfolding in the United States. The year is 2022 and this book has never been more hard-hitting. In Texas, abortion is considered murder. Private citizens can report anyone if they are suspected of helping someone get an abortion. That could mean an Uber driver, a doctor, anyone involved. In Georgia, basic reproductive rights are taken away. Certain political leaders - I think you know who I'm referring to here - have genuinely considered, and enacted, bills that take away bodily autonomy. Then they pretend they have the moral high ground, something that is hauntingly reflected in this book. We look to the future and hope it is bright, but the fact is that forced pregnancies are no longer purely dystopian.
How long before this spreads to the entire country? How long before we look to the past, as Offred does, and ache for liberties long lost?
This book is horrifying, but I am unfortunately not surprised by any of it. This future doesn't seem far off anymore. I hope that one day I can truly say that we have moved past this possibility of a government, ruling by fear and oppression, that sees women as nothing more than baby-making machines.
5 stars
But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
This book is for all my fellow sarcastic, goal-oriented overachievers with unreliable self-esteem, oddly specific obsessions, and unrealistic dreams. IThis book is for all my fellow sarcastic, goal-oriented overachievers with unreliable self-esteem, oddly specific obsessions, and unrealistic dreams. I don't think I'll ever be the same.
In quantum mechanics, a wavefunction describes the probability of where quantum particles could be, so a particle occupies every possible state simultIn quantum mechanics, a wavefunction describes the probability of where quantum particles could be, so a particle occupies every possible state simultaneously (superposition) until it is measured. When a quantum particle is observed, the wavefunction collapses and the particle irreversibly occupies only one state. The specifics of how measurement and observation determine reality are still being researched. To my knowledge, quantum particle behavior is still largely a mystery.
In Book of the Ancestor, quantals use greater magic: they can walk the Path and draw immense power from it. But maybe this “magic” isn’t really magic at all. Doesn’t “quantal” look suspiciously similar to “quantum”? Can quantals control the collapse of a wavefunction? That would begin to explain the mysterious Path. Thread-work could be quantum entanglement on a larger scale, where people are entangled instead of particles. If so, I wonder how quantals obtained these abilities. Radiation, maybe?
Speaking of nuclear radiation, what is Abeth? The result of nuclear war? Take ABETH, cross out the bottom of the B, flip around the letters a bit (EABTH) and you have EARTH. Judging by the map, the world of the Broken Empire trilogies is clearly our world after extreme climate change, nuclear war, or both. Abeth may resemble the far future of Earth, after the events of those trilogies. Maybe the ice is a product of nuclear war: nuclear winter. That would also explain why the Missing left Abeth, the doomed planet they may have destroyed. Additionally, the computer that controls the focus moon is named Taproot, a cryptic recurring character in all of Lawrence’s books (aaand the friendly neighborhood Mark Lawrence expert is John, helping me fill in the blanks with his extensive knowledge).
How do I join a warrior nun friend group? Specifically an incredible found family who have an unbreakable bond of love and support. The relationship between Nona, Ara, and Zole is one of my favorite friendships in all of literature. The way Zole slowly opened up to Nona, the unspoken promise of protection between Nona and Ara—it’s exquisite.
Holy Sister has incredible slow pacing with natural buildup that’s not rushed. Instead, we get to know the characters organically as we walk beside them during their darkest moments. Despite the hopelessness that hangs over Abeth, there are also days when the light of the moon seems warmer on Nona’s skin and the horizon of ice looks more like a blanket of sparkling jewels tossed haphazardly across the poles by the hand of a benevolent god.
In conclusion, Mark Lawrence continues to be a genius.
5 stars
Red Sister: ★★★★★ Grey Sister: ★★★★★ Holy Sister: ★★★★★
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How is it even possible for a book this perfect, this immaculate, this soul-shattering to exist. I'm in awe. I can't find words to properly describe the beauty of this series and of this book. I've been on this journey for so long and been through so much with friends who hold my heart in their blood-stained hands. Mark Lawrence is the Ancestor, confirmed....more
Dear Miss Metropolitan is an ambitious, experimental novel told through various fragmented, nonlinear forms of media. The writing is disorienting but Dear Miss Metropolitan is an ambitious, experimental novel told through various fragmented, nonlinear forms of media. The writing is disorienting but effective—it's so different from everything else I've read, which makes it stand out as an excellent, disturbing story. It's haunting, unsettling, jagged. The deep dive into the psychological state of the "victim-girls" was meaningful and hard-hitting. Honest and heartbreaking, Dear Miss Metropolitan is an under-appreciated book that deserves more attention for its innovative, free style.
4.5 stars
I was provided with a physical ARC from the publisher. Thank you!...more
The Paper Menagerie is devastating. Keep a box of tissues handy.
It's the story of a mother and her son. She made paper animals for him and breathed liThe Paper Menagerie is devastating. Keep a box of tissues handy.
It's the story of a mother and her son. She made paper animals for him and breathed life into them, and they became his friends. For a while, mother and son delighted in this magic together. But after an incident with a bully, the son Jack changes his mind. He doesn't want to be half Chinese and half American anymore. He wants to be all American. He doesn't want his eyes or his hair or his language or his little paper friends. He doesn't even want his mother.
You know what the Chinese think is the saddest feeling in the world? It's for a child to finally grow the desire to take care of his parents, only to realize that they were long gone.
The Paper Menagerie is about how there is always something about us we want to run away from until we grow up and learn to love it--but by then it's too late. Jack is cruel to his mother, forcing her to abandon her language and cuisine and zhezhi until she is just a shell of herself. And yet his mother still cares about him. She makes sure he stays healthy as he begins to lose himself in being American.
Sometimes, when I came home and saw her tiny body busily moving about in the kitchen, singing a song in Chinese to herself, it was hard for me to believe that she gave birth to me. We had nothing in common. She might as well be from the moon. I would hurry on to my room, where I could continue my all-American pursuit of happiness.
It is just so, so sad. The impact is astonishing. Every sentence carries weight. It's quietly and intimately emotional, and contains situations everyone can relate to in some way.
Mom finally stopped making the animals when I was in high school. By then her English was much better, but I was already at that age when I wasn't interested in what she had to say whatever language she used.
This short story is about being torn between Western and Eastern cultures and not knowing how to find a balance that you're comfortable with. It's about acceptance, love, and how we often push it away. Jack was born and raised in America, and he constantly feels pressured to pick one or the other culture. It seems very common to me for children to feel the overwhelming need to have to choose. It might make sense to us now that it's possible to live in harmony with all parts of yourself without having to deny some, but I remember vividly wanting to pick and choose parts of myself as a child. I believe I wanted blond hair and blue eyes. I wasn't able to appreciate my different heritages without having a very strong preference for one. And I would swing from one to another with startling quickness. I got whiplash. I was a confused child. Every multiracial person knows what I'm talking about.
If Mom spoke to me in Chinese, I refused to answer her. After a while, she tried to use more English. But her accent and broken sentences embarrassed me. I tried to correct her. Eventually, she stopped speaking altogether if I were around.
Jack never tried to understand his mother. He only tried to push her away. And he succeeded.
The Paper Menagerie is the best short story I have ever read. The only thing I didn't like about it was the random infodumpy letter at the end that took me out of the story a bit. It was kind of melodramatic.
By the end of Babel, I was shaking. Maybe out of grief, maybe out of awe; I felt as if I had watched something monumental flourish and collapse. And, By the end of Babel, I was shaking. Maybe out of grief, maybe out of awe; I felt as if I had watched something monumental flourish and collapse. And, for a minute, the world seemed so still, like the last few pages were a clip from a silent film. I’m writing this review immediately after finishing the book. I think, at some point in the near future, the enormity of what I have just read will come slamming into me. But for now, I will type away and try, in vain, to express the shockwave that I know is about to hit the literary world.
Babel has the weight of a modern literary classic, although it is a unique blend of historical fiction, fantasy, and nonfiction. Kuang’s writing can be very technical, and often reads like a textbook. Despite the dense, lecture-like paragraphs about etymology and the history of language, Babel is incredibly immersive. It’s so easy to get swept up in this story. Over the 24 hours that I was reading this, I would tell myself that I was just sitting down to read a few pages, only to accidentally read one hundred.
I enjoy reading nonfiction and I have a passion for languages, so when I closed the cover of the book feeling like I had just completed a university course, I was filled with this sort of humming glee. I can see myself reading Babel again and again, poring over every sentence with the same fascination that I experienced this first time through.
Rebecca Roanhorse calls Babel Kuang’s love-hate letter to academia, which could not be more accurate. Nowhere else have I read academia described with so much biting, loving, unflinching detail.
Babel honors the magic of translation and linguistics. While many say that words are just sequences of sounds given meaning, language is undeniably a keystone of history and culture. Translation is a highly underappreciated art. Every time words are converted between languages, they lose some of their association, some of their meaning and gravity. What is most important in a translation? The author’s style and voice? The emotional message? The exact words themselves?
Robin, the main character, feels so real. For most of the book, he grapples with impossible decisions. He was taken to Babel without choice, but he feels at home in the tower, which feeds his hunger for knowledge. He knows that the research he works on supports British imperialism, but he relishes the power he wields as a translator and silver-worker. As he witnesses Britain pump opium into China, his homeland, he struggles to choose between the utopian life of comfort and discovery he has grown to treasure and everything he has wilfully ignored for most of his life: the fact that he will never truly be accepted in Oxford for who he really is, that to the empire, people like him are either curiosities to be examined or subhumans to be exploited. Staying at Babel feels like a betrayal, but the enormity of the other option frightens him: join the secretive Hermes Society to take a stand against Britain’s abuse.
This is where many of the most weighty questions are raised. As the title suggests, Babel is in part a breakdown of the necessity of violence. It’s easy to say that nothing is solved by brute force that could not have been solved by diplomacy, but will an oppressor ever be able to sacrifice their pride and greed? At what point does a line need to be crossed, a transition from peaceful activism to the threat or action of violent upheaval?
Robin, Ramy, Victoire, and Letty are all meticulously drawn characters. While their bond is fiery and passionate, they are afraid to test the limits of their inherent differences. Letty, raised in an upper-class white family, has trouble understanding how Robin, Ramy, and Victoire will never truly be free at Babel. How they were taken from their countries and shackled to Babel, forced to help construct the same empire that is destroying their homes and enslaving their people.
Babel is passionate, scathing, incendiary, fervent. It has all the inevitability and gravity of a tidal wave, a massive force crashing into me, sweeping me away. Here, I find that language has failed me once again, because I cannot write a sentence or a paragraph or a whole review that will quite capture how I felt when I finished Babel. I will leave it for you to discover, because if you pick up just one book this year, make it this one.
Everyone is talking about how Goodreads needs to add half-stars, but what I need right now is a sixth star specifically so I can give it to this book.Everyone is talking about how Goodreads needs to add half-stars, but what I need right now is a sixth star specifically so I can give it to this book.
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Living in a land with a dying sun and a failing moon, Nona Grey was just a young girl when she was bought from her family and trained as a ring-fighter. But when she defends her friend and almost kills a man, she is noticed by Abbess Glass, head of the Convent of Sweet Mercy. There, she is trained to be a skilled killer as her old blood begins to show itself. But she is hiding a dark past and demons that threaten to destroy her.
Before starting this book, I would recommend making sure you understand what each of the bloods mean. Children of hunska, gerant, marjal, or quantal blood inherit special powers. Hunska = very, very fast Gerant = giant and tall and strong Marjal = can use lesser, more practical or physical magic Quantal = can use greater magic such as thread-work and Path-walking
My favorite part of this book was the character development.
Nona is such an amazing main character. She's fleshed out and realistic but not boring because she has many sides. She has trouble dealing with anger but has great emotional maturity, meaning I was hardly ever annoyed. Lawrence did such a good job writing her. I felt what she felt. She values honesty and friendship more than anything else. I want to give her a giant hug. She does terrifying things, but she's still a really good person. I love her.
[Nona] had vowed that she would never let a friend down, that she would do anything, anything at all, to protect them. A vow more sacred to her than the Ancestor, more holy than the church from tallest spire to lowest crypt.
None of the characters are cliches. Reading books about magic/fighting schools is always a toss-up because sometimes characters fall into the tropes of bully, speshul powerful kid, smart kid, kid who will tell his father about this, et cetera. I love the side characters so much. The relationships between them are complicated and realistic. They all have bad traits and good traits, just like a normal person. They're not perfect at everything. They come from different upbringings and each bring a different point of view to the friend group. Each one has a distinct personality and the way they interact with each other is exquisitely relatable. Certain characters, like Abbess Glass, are written really well. She's smart and sees the whole picture. She always has a plan, even if it doesn't make sense in the present moment.
I would jump in front of a train for so many of these characters. ...more
Crying in H Mart is my favorite book of all time. The quiet devastation, the raw emotion, the sheer wisdom inside its pages. It brought tears to my eyCrying in H Mart is my favorite book of all time. The quiet devastation, the raw emotion, the sheer wisdom inside its pages. It brought tears to my eyes practically every other page. I've never gone through such an emotional journey triggered by a book before. The sense of impending doom and the heavy sadness of each moment, the conflicting emotions and frank writing style, the haunting dialogue and the stunning descriptions of food. They all came together to form the perfect book.
This book is about the deep connection of food and the love between a mother and her child, even through hardship and pain and hurt feelings. I was on the verge of crying the entire time. I've never been more emotionally wrecked.
I remember these things clearly because that was how my mother loved you, not through white lies and constant verbal affirmation, but in subtle observations of what brought you joy, pocketed away to make you feel comforted and cared for without even realizing it.
Michelle had a troubled relationship with her mother. They were constantly at odds, and as she grew into a rebellious teenager, the gap between them only widened. She only began to realize how big of a role her mother had in her life when she was diagnosed with cancer. She could no longer take care of Michelle; Michelle had to take care of her. As the roles steadily reversed, Michelle found comfort in cooking traditional Korean food. It reminded her of her mother, their trips to Seoul, and the bond they shared.
But this book isn't just about a mother-daughter relationship. It isn't just about food. It's also an exploration of what it means to be multiracial in a world that wants to sort people into boxes. Korean or American? White or Asian?
I had spent my adolescence trying to blend in with my peers in suburban America, and had come of age feeling like my belonging was something to prove. Something that was always in the hands of other people to be given and never my own to take, to decide which side I was on, whom I was allowed to align with. I could never be of both worlds, only half in and half out, waiting to be ejected at will by someone with greater claim than me. Someone whole.
Crying in H Mart is the quiet, haunting, beautiful story of what and who we take for granted, and the little moments we never appreciate until they're gone. It left me so hollow in an exquisitely painful way. It made me appreciate my culture and my mother so much more. Especially since I felt closely connected to Michelle. I related to her in many ways. I felt like I was Michelle, which just made me cry even harder. The little nuggets of wisdom and humor brought this book to life.
When Crying in H Mart arrived at my doorstep, my first remark to my dad was that it smelled like ink and tears—the bitter scent of new ink, the almost-saltiness of fresh paper. We laughed it off, but while I was reading, I kept thinking about it. Ink and tears. Or rather, tears and ink. Heartbreak, depression, devastation. And then, out of an event so painful—creation. Zauner put pen to paper, and a masterpiece was written. She fled to music when the noise of her own spiraling thoughts became too much, and she found an escape that turned into a lifelong passion.
This book shattered me and then pieced me back together. I'm a different person, and I'm so grateful to the wonderful, talented Michelle Zauner for writing this absolutely perfect memoir.
In case you didn't know, Michelle is the lead singer of one of my favorite indie bands, Japanese Breakfast. My favorite of their albums is Soft Sounds From Another Planet, and my favorite two songs on that album are Boyish and The Body is a Blade. You should definitely check her out. Her music is beautiful.
EDIT: Actually, my favorite is Jubilee, which is one of the greatest albums of all time. It was released on June 4, 2021, and it's a masterpiece.
5 stars
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This is my new favorite book of all time. It's absolutely devastating. I would give anything to read this again for the first time.
I’m not sure how I can possibly encompass all the emotions this made me feel. All I can do is try.
The Burning God felt like cominThis book broke me.
I’m not sure how I can possibly encompass all the emotions this made me feel. All I can do is try.
The Burning God felt like coming home. Not that it was wholesome or sweet or comfortable—definitely not. But it felt like coming home in that it was absolutely everything I could want in a book. After all this time spent searching, I have finally found another series that I can whole-heartedly love and recommend.
After the events of The Dragon Republic, Rin joins the Southern Coalition in an effort to stop the Dragon Republic from taking over Nikan. She’s broken, emotionally and physically. She was betrayed and barely escaped with her life, and now she wants revenge.
This book is beautiful and haunting and painful.
This is definitely the most hard-hitting series I’ve ever read. Rin is so power-hungry, but this raises the question of what she will do once she has all the power she wants. Does she actually deserve it? Is she the villain or the heroine? Is she actually trying to do a good thing, or is she just obsessed with gaining power?
I love the way this book makes me think.
And oh, the characters were utter perfection. They were written so carefully. They’re bloodthirsty and merciless and yet…
In the end, they’re just kids.
No matter how much Rin lashes out, she’s still just a frightened girl thrust into a terrifying world. Kitay always seems so strong, but he is hurting on the inside, bound to Rin because he loves her. And Nezha—Nezha the unshakeable—is just a shell of his former self.
War has changed them, shaped them. They are no longer petty, spoiled Sinegard students. They’ve been hardened, broken, and molded—brought together by a shared pain.
My heart breaks for them.
I love how vulnerable they all are, especially Kitay. He’s a good person at heart (probably the only one in this series), but he was forced to do terrible things and undergo traumatic events because this world is cruel.
Kuang made a very smart decision when she wrote this book in third person through mostly Rin’s perspective. Rin’s biases and fears are shown very well. When she got paranoid, I felt scared as well. When she felt bloodthirsty, it was almost like I was there with her, screaming at the sky. The chapters not from her perspective were so shocking to me (especially The Drowning Faith), because it was disconcerting to see what other people thought of Rin. I was so caught up in what she thought of everyone else. This was a really clever way to write the book and it built such a deep connection between me and Rin, even though she’s an unstable, dangerous psychopath who has committed genocide. It really takes skill to make me sympathize with someone so messed up.
Also, someone/some people died. Thank you. Thank you, R.F. Kuang, for actually keeping characters dead and not doing a random resurrection arc at the end.
The Burning God has everything I want in a fantasy book. Pain, pain, and more pain.
I recently discovered this perfect album called The Spell by Cellar Darling. It reminded me so much of The Poppy War series that I just had to dedicate a whole section of this review to the similarities between them. The album is exquisite. It’s atmospheric, haunting, and full of pain. While I was listening to it, I had the sudden thought that these songs sound like they were made especially for this series.
Every song is linked to a character, and I included in-depth explanations below.
Pain → Venka Death → Rin Love → Altan The Spell → Kitay Burn → the Phoenix Hang → Sister Petra Sleep → Jiang Insomnia → Riga Freeze → Daji Fall → Vaisra Drown → Nezha
Spanning multiple generations, Do Not Say We Have Nothing is the tale of a large extended family and how music brought them together in times of hardsSpanning multiple generations, Do Not Say We Have Nothing is the tale of a large extended family and how music brought them together in times of hardship. Their story unfolds in front of the curious eyes of a girl named Marie, the child of Kai, a pianist who lived during the Cultural Revolution, one of the most horrifyingly brutal periods in Chinese history. Ritualistic torture, humiliation, and cannibalism were allowed and even encouraged, as these people were said to be "bourgeois" and needed to be "purged."
Along with Ai-Ming, the daughter of Sparrow, the brilliant composer and close friend of Kai, Marie begins to dive deeper into her ancestry and the story of the struggles of her ancestors as they fought to survive during dark times.
This book follows a long list of characters, including Kai, Sparrow, and Zhuli--a gifted violinist--who were persecuted during the Cultural Revolution. Brought together by their shared love of music, their paths eventually diverged as political turmoil in China drove them apart.
Sparrow's daughter Ai-Ming went on to become a student protesting in Tiananmen Square. She escaped China after the massacre and fled to Vancouver, where she lived with Marie.
Do Not Say We Have Nothing is a grim, quiet story. It does not delight in brutality like some books about the Cultural Revolution, but it's horrific in a private way that touches your heart more than any gore. The book unfolds gradually, and the stories of each character are linked by the end, resulting in a seamless tale.
The writing builds suspense to the point where I wasn't sure if I was at the worst part yet or if there was more to come. It's quietly depressing and very subdued. The atmosphere is solemn, heavy, and burdened. It captures the feeling of hopelessness perfectly, and as I turned the last page, I felt an emptiness inside me, a dull ache.
Each character had distinct traits that made them unique, and so the hardship they went through was painful to me as well. I didn't realize how much I cared about the characters until terrible things happened to them, and the extent to which I cared shocked me. It crept up on me.
Do Not Say We Have Nothing is a sweeping story of a family who, although they suffered, survived to tell the tale. It's a book about discovery and strength and love.
5 stars
To learn more about the Cultural Revolution, visit this site....more
All the problems I had with the first book were fixed. The story got bigger and more epic. The romance improved dramatically. And I fell in love with all the characters.
This review has spoilers for the first book. Spoilers for ACOMAF will be boxed off with siren emojis (...more
This book stole my heart and I am pressing charges.
Chain of Iron, the second installment in The Last Hours series, takes everything that Chain of GolThis book stole my heart and I am pressing charges.
Chain of Iron, the second installment in The Last Hours series, takes everything that Chain of Gold did well and adds to it. Layers and layers of character development, mysterious motives, addictive writing style, added to stunning romance and heartbreaking angst. I was literally beaming while reading this book. I felt like my whole body was smiling. There were painful moments, too—many, many painful moments. In fact, the ending made my heart feel like it had been processed through a paper shredder and then stomped on.
This book opens with a murder on the streets of London. Shadowhunters are being killed by a mysterious person—or demon—that is frightening the community. Shadowhunters can no longer go on patrols by themselves. But are these murders connected, or are they simply the product of a killer’s suppressed rage?
While this is happening, Cordelia Carstairs is contemplating her situation. She’s engaged to James Herondale, but it is a false marriage brought about to save her reputation after she sacrificed her social standing to save him from unjust imprisonment. Lucie Herondale is working with Grace Blackthorn, attempting to raise Jesse from the dead in a plot they keep secret from all the others. Matthew Fairchild is struggling with his alcohol addiction and his hatred of himself, despite the love he receives from others. Anna Lightwood and Ariadne Bridgestock are trying to save their love after the heartbreak that happened between them. Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs have undeniable romantic tension, but neither of them are willing to admit it. Meanwhile, Tatiana Blackthorn is scheming again, and nothing is as it seems…
Cordelia is one of my favorite heroines of all time. She’s probably the best protagonist Cassie Clare has ever written. She’s so insightful and always notices things about people they didn’t know themselves. She puts James’s feelings first, over her love for him, and she doesn’t force him into anything. She knows he loves Grace, and while it pains her and despite her suspicion that he may have been tricked into that love, she accepts him for how he is and doesn’t try to change him. She’s quietly brave, determined, and thoughtful—and actually a strong female character without shoving it in our faces.
James is a character I surprisingly adored in Chain of Iron. I had lukewarm feelings about him in Chain of Gold, simply because he didn’t stand out to me as a very unique character, but I absolutely loved him in this book. I have been converted to a Jordelia shipper. James x Cordelia is my new OTP. James is so wonderful because he’s more mild than typical CC love interests like Jace and Will. He feels deeply, he cares about others in a quiet way, he’s relentlessly loyal to Cordelia despite the fact that their marriage is fake. He is the new Sam Cortland. I need a James in my life. He’s so sweet and intuitive and considerate. He has the emotional maturity that so many characters (*cough* Will *cough*) never had.
"Someone who broke your heart is often not the person who can mend it."
Lucie, unfortunately, is not my favorite character anymore. She’s still ambitious, and she’s still witty, but in this book, she starts to hide things from Cordelia, even though they will eventually become parabatai. She has secrets and never really apologizes for hiding them from her family and friends when they could have helped her. Lucie was the only one in this book besides Jesse who had negative character development. She became almost infatuated with Jesse, and got too caught up with her need to live a fairy-tale life to focus on the feelings of her future parabatai.
Jesse is still my least favorite character. He’s just a ghost. He’s very bland and gets angsty at random moments for no reason. There’s nothing interesting about him, besides the fact that he’s dead, which I think is the opposite of intriguing. He and Lucie have romantic tension that comes out of nowhere. I don’t like it. Unlike all the other relationships in this book, CC was forced to tell us that they were romantically interested in each other. There was no build-up, no small, heartwarming moments between the characters. I have a theory about this, which I will share in the spoiler section.
Matthew is such a sweet cinnamon roll. He always acts like he doesn’t care, but he does deep inside. He struggles with feeling like he’s not wanted, or that he’s isolated because of his alcohol addiction. We learned at the end of the first book that he loves Cordelia, and there are so many little moments that bring this to life. I personally don’t ship Fairstairs because I like them better as friends at this point and I ship Jordelia too hard to give it up, but I also have a theory about this, which, again, will be included in the spoiler section.
Cordelia hesitated. "Sometimes," she said, "it is not enough for others to love you. I do not think Matthew loves himself very well." Lucie's eyes widened. "What is there about him he could possibly not love?" she said.
Grace was one of my least favorite characters in Chain of Gold, but in this book, she’s much better. She has a clear motive and a personality. I’m actually sympathetic towards her. She was forced into this situation by Tatiana. She’s been used her whole life. All she wants is to get her brother back. I still don’t like her, but I appreciate her as a character.
All of the characters in Chain of Iron were perfect. They were fully fleshed-out, each with their own personalities and unique traits. This is the best cast that CC has ever written. I have so much love for each and every character, excluding Jesse.
There was very little plot in the first one hundred pages, but I had no problem with this. This book could be 100% fluff and I would not care. I love the characters so much that the plot was just a nice thing to have on the side. And the plot twist was actually surprising. I didn’t expect it at all.
One thing that stood out was the way the male characters treated Cordelia and Lucie. They respected them but didn’t go out of their way to say “oh, Cordelia, how very strong and female you are” like some characters do, just to emphasize how amazing and independent the women are. They respect the female characters without worshipping them.
As always, Cassie Clare did her research, and Edwardian London was really brought to life in this book. The balls, the dresses, the atmosphere—it was all perfectly written.
This is dark and heavy and not at all an easy read. It’s a story of vengeance, hatred, and manipulation. Added to tThis book thoroughly destroyed me.
This is dark and heavy and not at all an easy read. It’s a story of vengeance, hatred, and manipulation. Added to the bleak retelling of the darkest period in Chinese history, it’s a painful book to read. But it’s so, so good.
Rin, a peasant from the south, is a ruthless, determined, ambitious character who craves power over all other things. She’s a student at Sinegard, a prestigious military academy, but she stands out because of her dark skin and accent. She has to fight twice as hard to get to the top. Along the way, she discovers a power within herself that is fueled by her own anger. She longs to unleash it and burn the world down, but the gods are never to be trusted, and nothing comes for free. The grey morality is excellent.
"'They were monsters!' Rin shrieked. 'They were not human!' Kitay opened his mouth. No sound came out. He closed it. When he finally spoke again, it sounded as if he was close to tears. 'Have you ever considered,' he said slowly, 'that that was exactly what they thought of us?'"
Altan, the only survivor after his entire race was butchered in a previous war, is a complex and layered character. He’s filled with a hatred so strong it manifests itself in his fire, but he hides it deep within him, using it to fuel his brutality. He’s a raging force of nature, a sly, cunning commander intent on revenge--but his weaknesses and his strengths both lie in his fury.
This book does not romanticize war, and I’m thankful. We live in a culture where fighting is glorified and praised as heroic. The Poppy War presents a brutal, raw, and honest perspective where war is seen as the horrific, cruel act it truly is, instead of being glossed over. It’s a commentary on the horrors of human brutality and the violence we are capable of.
“Children ceased to be children when you put a sword in their hands. When you taught them to fight a war, then you armed them and put them on the front lines, they were not children anymore. They were soldiers.”
This is about strategy, politics, sacrifice. It’s not for the faint of heart. It’s intense, bloody--but extremely intelligent. Only a portion of the book is spent in the academy, but the lessons are well-researched and incredibly thoughtful. This is not your typical fantasy school story. It’s not really a fantasy school story at all. It’s a reflection on the ethical dilemma of sacrificing everything for the greater good, despite the unthinkable costs.
“Those weren’t lives. They were numbers. They were a necessary subtraction.”
The Poppy War is difficult to read. It’s a page-turner, but a dark one. The questions it raises are relevant, heartbreaking, sometimes controversial. But I promise you, it is worth it.
I am not, contrary to the belief of many, a cold, heartless rock. Though sometimes I feel like one. To support my claim, I present to you my notes pagI am not, contrary to the belief of many, a cold, heartless rock. Though sometimes I feel like one. To support my claim, I present to you my notes page, in its entirety.
"It's you I love," he says. "I spent much of my life guarding my heart. I guarded it so well that I could behave as though I didn't have one at all. Even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. But it is yours."
That's it. Those are my notes. You see? I'm capable of shipping a romance without tearing it into pieces smaller than my heart a rowan berry!
Only two characters can lie in this book, and yet the number of betrayals and the amount of treachery that goes on is staggering. And I love it. This is court politics at its finest, balanced with action and romance and character development and BANTER. Yes. Authors, take note.
The dynamic between Cardan and Jude is perfection.
My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned.
They were enemies to start with, and then sort-of friends but mostly allies, and then MARRIED, and I--
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Proof I can actually feel emotions. *screaming*
Anyway. This was supposed to be a review, but my heart isn't cooperating. Curse you, emotions. Maybe it was easier being ✨heartless.✨
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⬆️ my heart right now
6 stars (Goodreads needs to get a better rating system)...more
Every great found family needs an arsonist, an intellectual, a clown, a mom friend, and someone who takes "I am God" jokes maybe too literally.
The BrEvery great found family needs an arsonist, an intellectual, a clown, a mom friend, and someone who takes "I am God" jokes maybe too literally.
The Bronzed Beasts was stunning. The aesthetic, the dynamic between the characters, the breathtaking writing, the combination of steampunk and heist fantasy that is everything I have ever needed. I'm incredibly sad that this series is over. Goodbye to years of hugging the books as if that will bring the characters even closer to my heart. I will love my beautiful mismatched crew of messes for eternity.
I often feel like I'm repeating myself when I talk about this series because I always bring up one thing: the cast of characters. The way they interact, the subtle shifts in their relationships that leave everything feeling acutely disjointed and wrong until their world falls back together again and they collide once more in a blooming rainbow of fierce love and understanding and compassion. It's so beautiful. Everything about The Gilded Wolves is beautiful.
4 stars
(Our days and nights are perfumed with obsession - Lorde)
This is such a beautiful, inspiring, unique book. It's a tale of the bond between two twins and how, even though they've formed entirely different livThis is such a beautiful, inspiring, unique book. It's a tale of the bond between two twins and how, even though they've formed entirely different lives for themselves, it stays strong. It's haunting, evocative, and simple - but it's so much more than its synopsis suggests. This is one of those rare and genius books where I can see relationships forming and cracking before my very eyes. The writing isn't pretentious or condescending. It's almost effortless, in a way.
We follow Stella and Desiree Vignes from childhood to adulthood. They disappear from their home in Mallard, Louisiana at the same time - the vanishing twins. But in their efforts to make a new life for themselves, they stray far from each other. Stella passes as white and lives a suburban life while lying to her husband and daughter, Kennedy. You can sense the emptiness within her - this is what she wanted, and yet it's not what she imagined.
Desiree marries and has a daughter, Jude. But she still yearns for Stella, the lost half of herself. We follow Jude and Kennedy as they meet each other and finally realize the story their mothers have been hiding this whole time. A story about a lost twin and a lie that started so small, but now threatens to crush them.
The themes and diversity in The Vanishing Half are never forced. They're as natural as breathing; an integral part of each character. The colorism within the Black community was heartbreaking and eye-opening, the layers and complexities explored at a deeper level, and I was happy to see the trans representation.
I would definitely recommend this book to everyone. It's beautiful and important and powerful.
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