Tag: Adult Fantasy

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Books for AAPI Heritage Month (2023 Edition)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles! I wrote most of this post in advance, but as of now, I’m about to move out of my dorm!! I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY FINISHED MY FIRST YEAR OF COLLEGE!!

Here in the U.S., May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, and I’ve compiled another list of book recommendations for the occasion! Diverse reading shouldn’t be restricted to a single month, but it’s so important to amplify marginalized—in this case, AAPI—voices during this month. My lists serve as guides to read during not just their respective months, but any time you’d like.

However, this year is a little different. Even though I’m too lazy to change the header image (sometimes you’ve gotta be a bit stingy with your media space), I’ve decided to put both YA and adult books on this list. I’ve started to read more adult books in the past few years, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t include some of these books on this list. So it’s a slightly wider pool to choose from this year—read at your leisure!

If you’d like to see my past lists, click below:

Enjoy these recommendations!

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR AAPI HERITAGE MONTH

YA:

ADULT:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and what did you think of them? What are some of your favorite books by AAPI authors? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

I FEEL LIKE I’VE ASCENDED TO ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE HELP

That’s it for this list of recommendations! HAve a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (4/18/23) – The Spear Cuts Through Water

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I was in a fantasy mood recently, so I decided to pick up The Spear Cuts Through Water after hearing some rave reviews from other bloggers. The gorgeous cover only added to the sell. But in the end, this novel ended up being a major disappointment—a murky, 500+ page slog that was only enjoyable for fleeting moments. I really need to stop setting myself up for disappointment with all these overly long high fantasy books…

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Spear Cuts Through Water – Simon Jimenez

The Emperor of the Moon Throne has terrorized the land of the Strangled Throat for centuries, aided by his three reckless sons, aptly dubbed The Terrors. But like everything else that he has seized, the Emperor’s power comes from an age-old moon god who has been locked under the palace against her will. But a god is not meant to be kept in captivity.

So she escapes. Aided by Jun, a disgraced palace guard, and Keema, a warrior from a distant, mysterious land, she sets off on a journey to find her freedom. But the Moon Throne will not let go of her so easily…

TW/CW: ableism, cannibalism, child abuse, murder, body horror, substance abuse, mentions of sexual assault (off-page), torture, loss of loved ones

This is one of those instances where I feel like I’ve read a completely different book than all of the 5-star reviewers. I really wanted to like it—and there were a few things that I did like—but ultimately, it felt like a 20-minute prog-rock song in book form: well-written, but so unneccesarily convoluted and full of itself that it became insufferable.

Before I go on my tirade, I will acknowledge that there were some wonderful, very bold and skilled parts of this novel. Jimenez’s writing had moments of being both beautiful and insightful—there were a few anchors to pull me through the slog, and his prose had moments of being incredible. 2nd person is always a bold choice, but unlike other aspects of this novel, it was executed very well, succeeding at being both immersive and fresh without feeling like it was bold just for the sake of being so.

“Bold” is generally I word that I could ascribe to most of this book. A lot of it was written in a fresh, nontraditional way, and I appreciated its execution in some sections. But a lot of it just felt like showing off—having unconventional chapter breaks and an infuriating structure just for Jimenez to show that he was capable of doing so. Most of these ended up being to the novel’s detriment. The random “chapter” breaks (there really weren’t any chapters in this book?), which mostly just ended up being sized-up font that was, essentially, what should have just the first sentence of the paragraph. And since they were all just first sentences of the paragraph, there were 2-3 of these breaks per page. POVs got switched without warning and without explanation, making the reading experience overcomplicated where it could’ve been an easy fix. It just felt like it was biting itself in the foot in the name of art—it could have been a beautiful story, if it wasn’t so intent on showing off how “different” it was.

As a result, so much of this novel got lost. Even though I was fairly lost trying to discern whose POV is it this time, I did notice one thing while reading The Spear Cuts Through Water—where’d the worldbuilding go? Other than the vague notion of a fantasy world (gods and goddesses, some talking animals/spirits, etc.), I had no idea of the layout of the world, the regions of the world, any kind of cultural cues or conventions, any kind of magic system…it just wasn’t there. At all. The same goes for the characters—they were all but cardboard, moved around like pawns for seemingly no reason. (I get that they were under oath by the Moon God, but the point still stands. They didn’t need to be that stiff.) Other than the reveal about Keema, nothing compelled me about either of them, or any of the other passing side characters. This novel was just so intent on chasing itself in circles that it forgot the essential elements that a novel needs.

All in all, a fantasy with great potential, but that ended up losing itself under layers of attempts to be daring and new. 2 stars.

The Spear Cuts Through Water is a standalone, but Simon Jimenez is also the author of The Vanished Birds.

Today’s song:

LOVE this album, this feels like a perfect match for “There’s No Other Way”

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (3/21/23) – The Shape of Water (film novelization)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

The Shape of Water has been my all-time favorite movie for several years now—I’m looking over my shoulder at the poster above my bed as I’m writing this. I had the novelization on my TBR for a few years, but only got around to it recently, probably for fear of it not living up to the film. I had no idea that it was a dual release with the film, but after reading it, the novelization of The Shape of Water struggled to live up to the poetic poignance of the film.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Shape of Water (novelization) – Guillermo del Toro and Daniel Kraus

Summary from Goodreads:

NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE FROM FOX SEARCHLIGHT

Visionary storyteller Guillermo del Toro and celebrated author Daniel Kraus combine their estimable talent in this haunting, heartbreaking love story.

The Shape of Water is set in Cold War-era Baltimore at the Occam Aerospace Research Center, which has recently received its most sensitive asset ever: an amphibious man captured in the Amazon. What unfolds is a stirring romance between the asset and one of the janitors on staff, a mute woman who uses sign language to communicate with the creature. 

Developed from the ground up as a bold two-tiered release—one story interpreted by two artists in the independent mediums of literature and film — The Shape of Water weaves together fantasy, horror, and romance to create a tale that is equally gripping on the page and on the big screen.

TW/CW: racism, homophobia, xenophobia, ableism, misogyny, sexual harassment/assault, blood, gore, murder, animal death, loss of loved ones

The Shape of Water is a movie that’s touched my heart in a way that I doubt any other will. In summation, the film is a testament to the marginalized experience—any kind of marginalized or othered group—and self-love and acceptance. Guillermo del Toro is a storyteller without parallel, and maybe that’s why I was so hesitant to pick up the novelization for so long. I had no idea that it was a dual release with the film, but either way, my fears ended up being confirmed—Daniel Kraus’ novelization is faithful in the barest, structural way, but largely failed to capture the heart of the film’s message.

I’m not familiar with Daniel Kraus’ other novels, but even a quick scan on Goodreads tells me that he’s a frequent collaborator with Guillermo del Toro, which, after reading this, frankly surprises me. Del Toro’s storytelling, from this film to Pan’s Labyrinth and the most recent Pinnochio, has a consistently strong emotional core, something that anchors the fantastical elements to our most core human experiences. And somehow, Kraus chose to adapt this novel in the most flat, checklist-like way possible. Yes, all of the beats of the film were there, as well as some bonus content. But thanks to Kraus’ dry writing, the emotional core—what made the story so deeply impactful in the first place—apparently flew straight over his head.

Now, before I get into my major gripes, I will say this—the novelization picks up far more at the halfway point. The chapters that Kraus writes from the perspective of The Asset were an unmistakable highlight, charming, dreamlike, and refreshingly strange compared to most of the other perspectives. I almost find myself wishing that the scene with Bob Hoffstetler and The Asset made it to the film. And the very climactic events in the third act were dealt with the appropriate amount of weight, and the pace picked up significantly, unlike the steady pace of the movie. And as much as I love the dance scene, I completely get the decision to nix it from the novel—out of all of the scenes to translate from screen to page, that would be at the top of the page.

With that out of the way, I was bothered by how much emphasis Kraus places on the antagonist, Strickland. There were some fascinating scenes that never made it to the film of the process of him capturing The Asset in the South American rainforest; they were interesting additions, and although I liked them in general, it mostly ended up being Strickland being incredibly racist. It’s painfully on brand for his character, but beyond that, it seemed like his character got the most page time out of the whole cast. He is the main villain, sure, but given that this story is about the marginalized experience and he is the predatory antithesis to what the film stands for, the decision didn’t leave the best taste in my mouth.

My other main issue was how Kraus wrote the character of Elisa Esposito. For the most part, Kraus was somewhat faithful to her personality, but there were multiple instances where the descriptions of her were incredibly concerning. On several occasions, she is described as “childlike” and “[like] a kindergartener” in scenes where she is struggling to communicate her needs—for those of you who have not seen this film, Elisa is mute, and she uses ASL to communicate. It’s already offensive on the front that Elisa is such a treasured character to me, but Kraus seems to, once again, miss the message of the film by a mile, and ends up right smack in the middle of the all-too-common trope of infantilizing disabled people—especially disabled women. Elisa is in no way “childlike” for trying to communicate her needs—she is a grown woman, and she is frustrated by the struggle to communicate with her abled peers in a world that is not built for her. Let me say it again: Elisa Esposito is a grown woman. Even though Kraus was somewhat respectful in some of his other descriptions of her, but these instances all but negated everything else that he had established in the adaptation.

All in all, a structurally faithful, occasionally beautiful, but often frustrating adaptation of a film that will forever have the prime spot in my heart. 3 stars from a peeved Guillermo del Toro fan. Just watch the movie instead.

The Shape of Water is a standalone, as the film is, but Daniel Kraus has also collaborated with Guillermo del Toro on the novel Trollhunters. Kraus is also the author of The Life and Death of Zebulon Finch, The Teddies Saga, and several other books for all ages.

Today’s song:

saw these legends on Friday night—such a beautiful experience, and I’ve had this song on repeat ever since

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (3/7/23) – The Fifth Season (The Broken Earth, #1)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I forget what triggered it, but a few years back, I piled a bunch of N.K. Jemisin’s books onto my TBR. I just finished up the Great Cities duology recently and enjoyed it (though The World We Make I enjoyed less so), but I was still excited to read the Broken Earth series from all of the praise it’s been given. I’m usually wary of overly long fantasy books, but The Fifth Season defied all of my expectations and delivered one of the most well-crafted fantasies I’ve read in recent years.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Earth, #1) – N.K. Jemisin

In the land of the Stillness, natural disasters are an inevitable part of life. Every so often, the land goes through cycles of extreme weather, where the earth tears itself apart and the land is blanketed in ash and darkness.

This Fifth Season has arrived once more, and with it comes a world in chaos. Amidst the chaos is Essun, a woman on the run after witnessing her husband murder her young son. Her last hope is her daughter, whose whereabouts are unknown. But in a land filled with unknown disasters and people willing to turn on the orogenes—those with the power to control the earth—Essun must overcome unimaginable hurdles to find her daughter and bring her to safety.

TW/CW: murder, infanticide, abuse, mentions of genocide, slavery, implied rape (child), descriptions of injury/blood, sexual coercion, kidnapping, human experimentation

This is my own bias here, but as a principle, I’m automatically weary of overly long fantasy books; that length usually means something along the lines of either a) excessive, infodumped worldbuilding , b) long stretches of the story without much plot, or c) a combination of both. But The Fifth Season proved me SO wrong on that front—Jemisin dodged both of those traps effortlessly, resulting in one of the most inventive fantasy books I’ve read in years.

My first exposure to N.K. Jemisin was through the Great Cities duology, and I was surprised at how starkly different the writing styles were; The City We Became was witty, but rather ham-fisted more often than not, which somewhat suited the story she was telling. The writing of The Fifth Season was a much better fit for the story’s tone: it hit the balance of being to-the-point and fantastical, a style which, given some of the very dark themes that this novel explores, gives it the respect that it deserves. After finishing this novel, I’m more inclined to this style, but above all, reading the two is proof of her versatility of a writer—Jemisin can bridge the tonal gap and make it look ridiculously easy.

About the worldbuilding—The Fifth Season boasts some of the most detailed and compelling worldbuilding that I’ve seen in a fantasy series, but compelling is the part that I want to emphasize. It’s one thing to flesh out your world, but if the detail you give it is arbitrary and irrelevant to the story you’re trying to tell, it becomes redundant. But Jemisin gives the world of the Stillness a rich, believable history, and considers every consequence imaginable of the constraints in her world. Every ramification of the concepts in her world are considered, and they’re shown in organic ways, from the (gruesome) depictions of how the humans have systemically oppressed the orogenes (also a very sharp social commentary) to the biological consequences of a world constantly gripped by extreme natural disasters. Jemisin left no stones unturned, and it paid off in such an enjoyable way.

And if there’s one thing that N.K. Jemisin can do exceptionally well, it’s make me despise a character with every cell of my being. Her protagonists are compelling, but she’s so skilled at making characters that absolutely make your skin crawl. Both Schaffa and Alabaster were case studies in manipulation, and so many of their scenes, especially when they interacted with Damaya and Syenite, respectively, it was genuinely hard to read, but still so authentic to how authority figures often manipulate those below them, especially if they’re young women. Bottom line: they both sucked, but N.K. Jemisin did a disturbingly good job of making them suck so realistically.

I debated on whether or not to discuss this last part, but it’s really best to go in blind—even if I put a spoiler warning and discussed it, I don’t think I could get across how mind-blowingly well-crafted the main twist with the different POVs was. It’s…AGH. IT WAS JUST SO WELL-DONE. I CAN’T SPEAK COHERENTLY ABOUT IT. Again, even if the worldbuilding is confusing. GO INTO THIS BOOK BLIND. YOU WON’T REGRET IT. IT’S AMAZING. TRUST ME. And a sidetone—props to N.K. Jemisin for seamlessly pulling off a 2nd person POV, and, once again, making it look easy.

All in all, a fantasy novel that defied my expectations on nearly every front, resulting in one of the most enjoyable reads I’ve had all year. 4.25 stars!

The Fifth Season is the first book in the Broken Earth trilogy, followed by The Obelisk Gate (book 2) and The Stone Sky (book 3). Jemisin is also the author of The Great Cities series (The City We Became and The World We Make), the Far Sector series for DC Comics, and many other books.

Today’s song:

this song is delightful, and it’s also proof that the middle school boys who used axe body spray instead of showering have always existed in some form or another

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/14/23) – Son of the Storm (The Nameless Republic, #1)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles, and happy Valentine’s Day! I’ve got no plans other than eating cookies, but I’m all for spreading the love. 💗

Son of the Storm has been on my radar for…about 6 months? A year? I’m not sure, but either way, I’m glad I picked it up. Usually, long, epic fantasy books like this make me lose interest, but Suyi Davies Okungbowa has written a tale that had me hooked almost all the way through.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Son of the Storm (The Nameless Republic, #1) – Suyi Davies Okungbowa

Danso is well on the way to becoming a renowned scholar, but despite the path set before him, he seeks more in life than what his university can teach him. He knows that the city of Bassa has sinister secrets woven into its history, walling itself away from the rest of the world and making every immigrant swear to secrecy. Danso’s bravado catches up with him when he discovers Lilong—and along with her, a type of magic that he never knew existed. A magic that bonds to him, and a magic that could determine his fate and the fates of Bassa itself.

TW/CW: graphic violence, racism/colorism, immolation, blood

These days, it’s rare for an epic fantasy over 500 pages to keep my attention; to pull it off, you have to not only have great worldbuilding, but you have to buoy it with some kind of action and character building, and more often than not, many will lean on one to propel the page count. I was hoping that Son of the Storm wouldn’t fall into that trap, but to my relief, it gave us all of those elements and more, making for a compelling fantasy that hooked me on the rest of the series!

It’s clear to me that so much care was put into the characters of Son of the Storm, but Danso stood out the most to me. He’s refreshingly fleshed out—he’s lovably cocky, he’s determined, and he can talk his way out of any situation. Beyond that, there was so much nuance to him that made the plot all the more compelling; the wrongs within Bassa had a personal connection to his own family history, and that drove him to discover more about the outside world. It’s a low bar, I know, but I’m so used to epic fantasy having issues that are only tangentially related to their protagonists, and giving Danso a more personal, tangible connection to the plot made the story all the more interesting to read.

And that’s in no small part thanks to Okungbowa’s fantastic writing! His prose hit the perfect balance of fantastical and grounded, making the human aspect of the story shine through. The moments of humor are balanced with moments of meditation on systemic issues and personal biases, and there wasn’t a moment that I thought that either were too much or too little. Although the plot did have brief moments of lulling, Okungbowa easily revived the suspense and action to keep the story moving in ways that made sense and were integral to the journeys of each character. In my experience, it’s difficult to keep up that pace for over 500 pages; usually, something gets lost in the worldbuilding or somewhere else, but Son of the Storm was, for the most part, consistently action-packed.

Back to the characters, however, is where my major problem came in: the multiple POV structure. Normally, I’m a sucker for multiple POVs when they’re done well, giving the reader a chance to see the story through the eyes of several, fleshed-out characters. It’s clear that Okungbowa loves his characters, but maybe he loved them…a little too much. During the last half of the book, we got the POVs of a few side characters that only had relevance in a certain section of the book, taking away the spotlight from the development of the main characters, such as Danso, Lilong, and Zaq. A lot of the time, these characters’ voices didn’t even come through, making the fact that the chapter is from their POV nearly pointless. Having the POVs consistently switch between Danso, Lilong, Zaq, and maybe Esheme would have made the story flow so much better, and it would have made sense to focus on their development rather than a passing side character.

All in all, an action-packed piece of fantasy with lovable characters and a plot that kept me guessing. 4 stars!

Son of the Storm is the first in the Nameless Republic series, followed by Warrior of the Wind, which is slated for release in November of this year. Suyi Davies Okungbowa is also the author of David Mogo Godhunter and several other short stories.

Today’s song:

listened to this album (Leisure) yesterday, and it was a lot of fun!! this one’s a standout

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/7/23) – The Midnight Library

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ve had this book on my radar for a few years now, but I wanted to read it after the ocean of hype died down. I forgot about it for a while, and I found a copy at my college’s library, and figured that it might be worth a try—I read The Humans, also by Matt Haig, and thought it was decent, so I decided to take a stab. I lowered my expectations to average from all of the hype, but The Midnight Library ended up being even worse than I thought—insultingly un-nuanced and a wholly frustrating read.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Midnight Library – Matt Haig

Nora Seed has reached what seems to be a dead end in her life. All of her childhood dreams never came to fruition, and now she’s stuck in her thirties with nowhere to go. But after she attempts to take her own life, Nora finds herself in the Midnight Library, where every book on the endless shelves contains an alternate life—lives where she pursued different dreams, different boyfriends, and every other imaginable outcome. As she travels through a multitude of alternate realities, Nora must come to terms with herself and how she wants to live her life—full of regrets, or full of hope?

TW/CW: suicide/suicidal ideations, animal attack, loss of a loved one, depression, panic attacks, animal death, substance abuse, cancer

A recurring thought that came to me while reading The Midnight Library was that it was like if you sucked every ounce of nuance and complexity out of Everything, Everywhere, All At Once. I know full well that Everything came out two years after this novel, but my point still stands. In the abstract, the message of The Midnight Library was good, but it had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the face, which made for an exceedingly unpleasant reading experience.

The Midnight Library is a case study in the effect of good or bad execution of a story idea. If you have a good idea but don’t execute it well, the idea itself gets bogged down in all of the structural flaws of the writing itself. The message that Matt Haig tried to get across was a good one—focusing on living your life, not getting bogged down with regrets, and giving yourself a chance to change—but it was so ham-handed in its delivery that all of the nuance (of which there was SO much potential) was erased entirely. It was so clear that The Midnight Library was trying to say something, but without any complexity, it ended up spitting out nothing that we haven’t heard before.

For instance, in one life, Nora Seed is a world-famous rockstar selling out arena shows all around the world. However, as Nora progresses through this alternate timeline, she realizes that this alternate self is feeling empty inside, and that fame has left her a barren shell of what she once was. That’s all well and good, and it’s a good message that fame does not automatically equal happiness. But at the end of the chapter, this message was digestibly packaged into a short platitude, right above Nora’s hypothetical follower count on social media. It was almost insulting how it was delivered—what was the point of that when Haig showed it through his writing just a page before? Even if you’re not a writer, if you’re ever taught about writing in school, “show, don’t tell” is one of the first principles that you’re taught. As a reader, it feels insulting to one’s intelligence: I got the message just fine, why be that redundant and blatantly obvious?

Furthermore, a lot of the potential lives, even though they were neatly and obviously packaged to the reader to teach them a lesson, ended up contributing nothing to the plot. When they did contribute, the message was reiterated by the all-knowing librarian, as if I’m watching a children’s show, each episode ending with an “and what did we learn today, kids?” kind of message. The Midnight Library isn’t all that long of a book, but a good quarter of the misadventures through Nora’s alternate lives didn’t serve any purpose, even though that was the obvious intent.

Lastly—Matt Haig isn’t at fault for this first part, but dear lord, do not let the synopsis fool you. This is not a feel-good book. The inciting incident for The Midnight Library is Nora attempting suicide, and that got glossed over so much in the marketing of the book. For the first part of the book, I feel like Nora’s mental health issues, although they aren’t explicitly named, were dealt with respectfully, but once it got to the end of the book, it took a turn for the worse. As if by magic, Nora’s depression is cured, and she now has the will to live again, after glimpsing all of her alternate lives. It really felt harmful—yes, this is a sci-fi/fantasy book, but depression and other mental health issues don’t magically disappear after a romp through alternate realities. Downplaying something as serious as depression and suicide really didn’t sit right with me, and it felt like the ending of the book erased something that should have been acknowledged far more in this book.

All in all, a disappointing book that decided to take its well-intentioned message and knock you over the head with it, thereby erasing all attempts at nuance and complexity. 2 stars.

The Midnight Library is a standalone, but Matt Haig is also the author of The Humans, How to Stop Time, The Radleys, and several other books.

Today’s song:

I like this one even more than Panopticom—I can’t wait to see what else this album brings!!

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (8/2/22) – The Blood Trials

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’d seen this book floating around for a while, and the promised blend of sci-fi and fantasy hooked me in. But soon after I started The Blood Trials, it proved to be a disappointment to me—although there’s a great discussion of systemic racism and misogyny, the rest of the book lacked steady worldbuilding, and the writing tried too hard to be gritty.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Blood Trials (The Blood Gift Duology, #1) – N.E. Davenport

Ikenna is the granddaughter of a prominent politician; both of them drew scrutiny from within the Republic of Mareen for their Khanian heritage, so Ikenna was trained in self-defense and blood magic by her grandfather in secret. But when her grandfather is assassinated, Ikenna suspects foul play—none other than the Praetorian Guard, the elite military might of the Republic of Mareen, could have orchestrated his murder. Determined to find his killer, Ikenna climbs through the ranks of the Praetorians, fighting her way to the top to avenge the death of her grandfather. But what she finds deep within the Praetorian Guard is worse than she could have ever imagined.

TW/CW: graphic violence, murder, loss of loved ones, racism, misogyny, substance abuse (alcohol)

The Blood Trials had a ton of potential, but it ultimately felt like an early draft as opposed to a finished book—although it had some great commentary on systemic racism and misogyny, the lack of worldbuilding and the writing style made for a book that failed to hook me once I got started.

I’ll start with the one thing I did appreciate about The Blood Trials—there were some great themes of how racism and misogyny, more often than not, run deeper than surface interactions and are embedded into the very fabric of a society. Ikenna’s experience in the Republic of Mareen mirrors so much of the sociopolitical climate of the U.S. and beyond, and it served as a timely and cogent commentary on how society systemically oppresses women, people of color, and other marginalized groups.

Beyond that, however, The Blood Trials consistently fell flat. I was excited to see how Davenport would blend sci-fi and fantasy into her world, but other than a base conflict that served as the origins for the Republic of Mareen and the surrounding countries, it left a lot to be desired. There wasn’t any indication of how magic and technology existed, what role technology played in this society, or how humans existed in this place in the first place. The magic system was even more so—all I could glean was that the blood gift was passed down genetically and very few possessed it. For such an interesting concept, I’m sad that The Blood Trials left me wanting more.

Additionally, the writing style did little to invest me in the story. I’ve seen a lot of reviews mix this up as YA, and that’s understandable—even though this book is technically billed as adult, it did feel like a YA book masquerading as an edgy, gritty adult novel. And this is coming from someone who predominantly reads YA—even from me, it felt like Davenport was trying too hard to make it “adult,” what with the excessive, graphic violence, the frequent swearing, and the sex. I don’t have a problem with any of those, but they all felt intentionally amped up to make the book more “adult” as opposed to making it more of a fleshed-out story.

Ikenna’s character was also an example of how Davenport’s writing style failed to hit the mark. She should, in theory, have been a character that would be easy to root for, especially given the themes of the story. But she tragically falls into the trap of a “Strong Female Character™️” who just ends up being a woman written with traditionally masculine traits without any sense of vulnerability. Even though her motives were good enough to move the plot along, Davenport was, again, trying far too hard to make her tough, and left her without any other character traits. Her main motive was to avenge her grandfather, and yet her grief was glossed over to the point of nonexistence in favor of making her tough and stoic. Similarly, most of the other characters seemed to come and go without consequence, only having a few base traits and disappearing and reappearing seemingly at Davenport’s will.

The Blood Trials also could have done with a little slimming down; for me, it could have easily ended after Ikenna beats the Praetorian Trials. The last 100 pages felt like they could have been a setup for the second book in the duology, but they were shoehorned sloppily into the last quarter of the book. I’d already lost my faith in most of the book by then, but those last pages only served to make it even less cohesive.

All in all, a sci-fi/fantasy novel that brings great commentary to the table, but lacked in worldbuilding and writing. 2 stars.

The Blood Trials is the first book in the Blood Gift duology, followed by the forthcoming sequel The Blood Gift, set for release in April 2023. The Blood Trials is N.E. Davenport’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!