Tag: YA fantasy

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (12/26/23) – The Siren, the Song, and the Spy (The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea, #2)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles! Also, a belated Merry Christmas and a Happy Kwanzaa to those celebrating!

To my parents: I tried so hard not to finish this in one day. I tried. But it was just too good. Just like how I devoured The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea around two and a half years ago, its sequel, The Siren, the Song, and the Spy captured my heart, and added some intricate depth, timely commentary, and no shortage of emotion to Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s fantasy world. Also to my parents: thank you so much for the incredible Christmas present!

WARNING: this review may contain spoilers for The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea—tread lightly!

for my review of book 1, click here!

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Siren, the Song, and the Spy (The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea, #2) – Maggie Tokuda-Hall

After the Pirate Supreme and their crew wounded the Emperor’s fleet, they have gone into hiding, growing the Resistance that they hope will end the colonial rule that has trapped them for decades. In the ruins of the battle, Genevieve, a loyal daughter of the empire, has washed up on the Red Shore. Now in the company of strangers, she must decide where her loyalties truly lie—and decide for herself if the empire has lied to her all along. Back on the mainland, Alfie is a spy in the Imperial Palace, hoping to tear it down from the inside. But when everyone is hiding false intentions, who can he trust in his quest to see the Resistance win?

Meanwhile, the Sea readies for battle, looking for vengeance after years of the Emperor robbing her of her daughters…

TW/CW: colonialism, genocide, blood, murder, self-harm (ritual), racism, animal death (off-page), ableism

I would have been satisfied if The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea was a standalone—it had an ambiguous, hopeful ending, and it’s rare to see novels that willingly keep their worlds in one book after an ending styled like that. Usually, when authors go and make said ambiguous but satisfying endings not so ambiguous by expanding the story and the world, it feels hollow—the sequel doesn’t always live up to the original, and sometimes, it just feels like a cash grab. The Siren, the Song, and the Spy is none of these things. It does what every sequel (and duology-closer) should do—it makes the already beloved characters, world, and plot all the more intricate and vast, but has no trouble sticking the landing and wrapping things up.

I think The Siren has the most POVs I’ve ever seen in a single book; some POVs only appear once or twice, but even still, I can think of at least ten (maybe more, I didn’t go back and count) that this novel cycles through over the course of just 320 pages. Usually, any number of POVs over five or six is too much for any author to handle; some characters don’t get developed the way they should, and some of them don’t need the page time or the internal dialogue that other characters need to make the story move forward. Normally, uneven emphasis on certain characters is also a flaw of multiple-POV novels. However, what Tokuda-Hall succeeded in was knowing when characters needed attention and when they didn’t; some chapters are dedicated to side characters, but they’re few and far between, and often shorter than the main character chapters. And somehow, by a stroke of luck, all of them felt necessary to the narrative—and all of them were compelling. Even minor antagonists got their time in the spotlight, but Tokuda-Hall used those moments to her advantage—sometimes, these chapters were more to reveal secrets than to peer inside characters’ heads. It’s a skill that very few authors have, but The Siren proved that Maggie Tokuda-Hall is incredibly adept at the art of the multiple-POV novel.

With Evelyn and Florian mostly out of the picture, The Siren develops many of the side characters present in The Mermaid—many of whom got necessary backstories, and often, something of a redemption arc. I didn’t expect to start rooting for Alfie after everything that he did in The Mermaid, but Tokuda-Hall did an excellent job of making him come to realize the error in his ways, and at least partially put him on the path to improvement. I don’t fully believe that he can ever be fully forgiven, and Tokuda-Hall acknowledges that, but what she’s also very skilled at is created complicated characters—”morally gray,” as much as it’s become a buzzword in both book communities and publishing these days, really is the best word for it. The difference is that Tokuda-Hall actually seems to know what the term really means. Introducing a batch of new characters (and not taking the easy route and killing a bunch of them off) was also a tricky task to surmount for Siren, but both the new characters and locations elevated the novel a ton; Koa and Kaia worked incredibly off of each other as siblings with wildly different personalities, and they meshed easily with some of the already established characters like Genevieve. And as with Mermaid, Siren is full of diversity—most of the new characters are people of color (as are most of the characters in the novel), and we also have Kaia, who has one hand, and a character who uses neopronouns.

Speaking of Genevieve…

I was already excited to see what Genevieve would do next after how Mermaid left off, but that was mostly because of how cunning of a character she was. At first, it didn’t seem necessary to me for her to have a redemption arc—she could have been such a sneaky minor villain, and I would’ve enjoyed seeing that develop. But her character arc was so much more than redemption—it was one of the most well-written case studies in colonial brainwashing and subsequent decolonization that I’ve read in years. What with her POV jumping back and forth between the past and the present, you can see exactly the kind of manipulation that went into her being duped into believing in Lady Ayer and the Emperor, betraying her own identity in the process. Her change of heart wasn’t straightforward either—it was plenty messy, and it wasn’t until she actually witnessed a full-on genocide that she realized what the empire was actually doing all along, but the messiness in the middle was what made her arc so memorable. Decolonizing one’s identity is anything but straightforward, and Genevieve’s journey of restructuring her beliefs and identity was rocky—as it should have been. Genevieve alone should be proof of Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s incredible skill in crafting authentic, messy characters.

On the subject of colonization and decolonization, I also appreciate the realistic—and unrelentingly anti-colonial—approach that Tokuda-Hall took to bringing down the empire. The stakes built up over both books made them feel like a real threat, and not just a hollow “evil empire” that’s only evil because the author takes great pains to tell you so. (Basing this empire off of multiple real-life examples of colonialism probably helped, but my point still stands.) The initial takedown was was incredibly emotional, and appropriately incorporated the awesome forces of the Sea. But after that final battle, what stuck out to me the most was the epilogue; it was very brief and appropriately hopeful, but what it emphasized was so important to understanding the process of decolonization—it’s messy. Even several years after the fact, everything isn’t magically fixed—things take time to rebuild, and not everybody instantly changes their minds. In such a short amount of time, Tokuda-Hall managed to portray an essential reality of colonialism that most sci-fi and fantasy narratives miss: change isn’t instantaneous, and the limbo between changes in power is a long, messy process.

All in all, a worthy sequel that proves Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s many, incredible special talents as an author—juggling dozens of POVs with ease, writing flawed characters with complicated arcs, and giving both colonialism and decolonization with the nuance that’s often missing from fantasy and sci-fi portrayals of the subject. 4.5 stars!

The Siren, the Song, and the Spy is the sequel to The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea, and is the end of the duology. Maggie Tokuda-Hall is also the author of several picture books and graphic novels, including Also an Octopus, Love in the Library, Squad, and the forthcoming The Worst Ronin.

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!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (12/12/23) – Shadow Speaker

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ve been a fan of Nnedi Okorafor for several years now, but it wasn’t until about a month ago that I found out that one of her first novels, which originally went out of print, was being reissued with new content and a new cover! (Gorgeous cover, by the way.) I ended up buying it, and though it wasn’t her best (what else would you expect from one of her very first books), but it’s not just a fun ride—it’s a glimpse into an incredibly talented author coming into her own.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Shadow Speaker (The Desert Magician’s Duology, #1) – Nnedi Okorafor

Niger, 2074. In the wake of a nuclear disaster, both humanity and the natural world have developed powers far beyond their imaginations. These Shadow Speakers have been given strange abilities by the aftershocks of nuclear war. Born into this world is 15-year-old Ejii, gifted the abilities of advanced sight and hearing the thoughts of animals. When she was young, her father, a corrupt politician, was assassinated. All these years later, Ejii decides that, regardless of the horrific legacy her father left behind, she must journey out into the Sahara Desert to search for his killer.

TW/CW: murder, beheading, fatphobia

Being a (somewhat) longtime fan of an author and reading their debut or earlier works further down the line is always an eye-opening experience. I was expecting something along those lines when I bought Shadow Speaker the other day, but…man, I really had no idea what I was in for. Shadow Speaker was honestly kind of bonkers, but in the best possible way. Quite plainly, it’s one of the boldest debut novels that I can think of.

Shadow Speaker was Nnedi Okorafor’s first novel (published all the way back in 2008), and it really does feel like a debut. I said eye-opening before because you can see the through lines where Okorafor hadn’t yet hit her stride in terms of writing; in contrast to the tight organization of most of her other novels, we still get chunks of worldbuilding delivered paragraph by paragraph. Her prose has the same bold brightness and whimsical spirit that really stands out as her signature, but it hasn’t been refined as much. And with the re-release this November, despite apparent rounds of editing, there’s still a few things that haven’t aged well from 15 years ago (ex. the villain’s evilness explicitly being tied to him being fat…mmmm, yikes…). All debuts are bound to have flaws, but the latter ones could have probably been edited out. But unlike that, I feel like it’s worth keeping some of the writing as it is—reading this novel was a time capsule into the mind of a younger writer.

And yet, Shadow Speaker is still one of the boldest books I’ve read in a long time, debut or not. Everything about is really and truly nuts, and that was the best part about reading it. Once you get the exposition of Ejii’s post-apocalyptic, magical world out of the way, at no point did I know where this novel was going, and at a certain point, I ceased to even care. There’s the spread of X-Men-like powers caused by a nuclear disaster, a talking camel (also because of the nuclear disaster, how did you guess?), gods and goddesses roaming across the land…you get the idea. Actually, no. You don’t get the idea. And that’s the point of this book, from what I can tell—Ejii and her ragtag band of nuclear magicians don’t know where they’re going either, and that’s where the fun of Shadow Speaker lies.

Over the years, Nnedi Okorafor has proven herself to be an absolute master of Afrofuturism (more specifically Africanfuturism and Africanjujuism, in her words), and the latter (a term that she coined to describe a subgenre of fantasy that is specifically Afrocentric and is inspired by the mythologies of Africa) really describes this novel to a T; although the inciting incident and the introduction of powers has a distinctly sci-fi feel, Shadow Speaker is so clearly fantasy. It’s hard to do that kind of genre-bending so effortlessly in a debut, but already, Okorafor make it look easy. Every element, whatever genres you want to ascribe them to, is blended seamlessly into the world of the Desert Magician Duology as smoothly as stirring together the ingredients of a cake. It’s an impressively distinct world, and despite its flaws, I’m glad this book was brought back into print.

Part of the reason for re-releasing Shadow Speaker is that Nnedi Okorafor just published its intended sequel, Like Thunder, this November. Hopefully I can get my hands on it soon, but it’ll certainly be interesting to see the leap in writing style between the two, given how much time has passed…

All in all, a bold and wild debut from one of science fiction’s most original writers active today. 3.5 stars!

Shadow Speaker is the first book in the Desert Magician’s Duology, followed by the new sequel, Like Thunder, which came out this November. Nnedi Okorafor is also the author of many books for adults, teens, and children, including Lagoon, the Binti series (Binti, Home, and The Night Masquerade), Noor, Remote Control, and many others.

Today’s song:

this song makes me ridiculously happy

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

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (12/5/23) – The Witch King

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Far be it from me to start the month off with a negative review, but that’s just how my December started off. Eh. Should be a lesson to me for trying to read something that’s been on my TBR for 3+ years—my tastes generally don’t change dramatically in that amount of time, but my standards for writing and plot certainly did. That’s all to say that The Witch King was a promising, inclusive fantasy that quickly proved itself to be not worth my time.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Witch King (Witch King, #1) – H.E. Edgmon

Wyatt Croft is a witch, and in the North American realm of the fae, witches are the enemy. Years ago, Wyatt’s magic got out of control, forcing him to flee back to the human world and go into exile. But his betrothal to Emyr, the prince of the fae, has not dissolved, and Emyr is back on the hunt for him. Forced back into the world of the fae, Wyatt must come to terms with his engagement—one that may hold the lives of all of North America’s witches in the balance. And his feelings for Emyr may be coming back, as much as he wants to hide them…

TW/CW: transphobia, deadnaming/misgendering, blood, gore, abuse (physical and verbal), panic attacks, substance abuse, PTSD themes

DNF at 36%.

The Witch King has made me realize that I need to expand my criteria for DNFing books; most of my DNFs are 1-star books—the ones that are just so bad that I can’t finish them. In comparison to a lot of the other books on my DNF shelf, The Witch King wasn’t comparably as bad. But the difference is that at a certain point, it was just so clear to me that this book was not worth my time. I really wanted to like it, but once I got past the first third, there wasn’t any point in me finishing this book. A DNF is not always a 1-star read, but a 1-star read is not always a DNF. It’s like geometry but easier to explain.

I wanted to emphasize that I really wanted to like The Witch King. But in the 3+ years that this book has languished on my TBR, it’s clear that my standards have changed. The foreword by Edgmon was incredibly touching, and it’s so clear that this was the book of their soul—there’s no denying the love that went into this book. And it’s so, so important to support trans authors like him, but it’s just as important to remember that even when you read diversely, a book’s diversity doesn’t automatically fix every plot hole and writing issue. There’s some slack I’m willing to give Edgmon because this was his debut, but The Witch King really left a ton to be desired.

It’s clear that Edgmon put a lot of thought into constructing Wyatt’s character, but in his quest to make him as relatable as possible, Wyatt turned from simply “relatable” to an incompetent mess. Even as a queer person, there’s only so many “I am a gay little worm who makes terrible life decisions” (actual quote from the book) jokes I can take. Jesus Christ. The word “cringe” is outright abused these days, but I feel like this is a valid quality to ascribe to the writing of The Witch King, since most of the humor feels so overdone and unfunny. If your type of humor consists of Tumblr jokes from 2017, then boy, do I have the book for you. All of the attempts to make Wyatt seem more human and fallible made him just feel like a pathetic mess incapable of seeing past his personal faults and (many) mistakes. It absolutely grated on me after a certain point. The rest of the writing wasn’t all bad, but good god, Wyatt’s characterization made me want to jump ship almost immediately.

Since I abandoned ship after the first third, there’s probably some context that I inevitably missed, but the worldbuilding of the North American fae really left a ton to be desired. Apart from the rivalry between witches and fae, there really wasn’t much of an explanation as to how the fae worked in tandem with the human world: where do the borders between human and fae begin and end? How do the two interact? And more importantly, what are the different interactions between the different species of fae? There were a bunch of different creatures that were just thrown at you in the background with zero explanation, never to be seen again. There’s a difference between convoluted worldbuilding and worldbuilding that just isn’t properly thought-out, and this fell firmly into the latter camp. It was all just a hot mess. I’ve read several reviews saying similar things about the worldbuilding, so…I guess it never did get better beyond what I read? Oof.

That being said, I really appreciate the diversity that Edgmon wrote into The Witch King. Having a trans main character is so important, and as much as Wyatt got on my nerves, characters like him need to be in the spotlight. Edgmon presented a lot of character that were very diverse in terms of race, gender, and sexuality, and while it seems like the representation wasn’t all accurate and some of Edgmon’s depiction of social issues wasn’t handled as well as it could’ve been (glad I didn’t get to that part, I guess…), it’s always good to have a range of characters like that. It’s about all I have to say about The Witch King that’s positive, but it’s worth being highlighted.

All in all, a diverse fantasy debut that sadly crashed and burned in its characterization and lazy worldbuilding. 2 stars.

The Witch King is the first book in the Witch King duology, followed by The Fae Keeper. Edgmon is also the author of the Ouroboros series, which consists of Godly Heathens and Merciless Saviors.

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!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (11/21/23) – A Crooked Mark

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles, and more importantly, MERRY FARGO DAY!! SEASON FIVE IS FINALLY HERE!! REJOICE!! I’ve been waiting three years for this…I can’t WAIT to watch it tonight!

I’ve noticed that I’ve read a lot of adult books this month (much of which have been more literary fiction) and not a lot of YA; although it’s been a much better reading month than October, I wanted some YA to mix it up. A Crooked Mark was the perfect book to scratch that itch—campy and silly in the best possible way.

Enjoy this week’s review!

A Crooked Mark – Linda Kao

Matthew Watts knows that evil works in mysterious ways. That’s why his father has raised him to know the signs of those marked by Lucifer himself. Ever since he was young, they’ve been going from town to town, making sure the Marked are killed before their evil is unleashed on the innocent. But Matt’s father has a new mission for him—his first ever solo mission, following a girl named Rae Winters. As Matt tries to blend in at the local high school, he befriends Rae—and begins to fall in love with her. And as his mission steers in the wrong direction, he begins to question if all that he’s working for is a lie…

TW/CW: murder, descriptions of burning alive, car crash, grief, loss of loved ones (on and off page), descriptions of injury

A Crooked Mark caught my eye over the summer because of its premise—not necessarily that it was particularly unique, but because it sounded so similar to Frailty—a movie about a father and his sons killing those that God has told him are demons. As far as I can tell, there’s no real correlation between the two (though I’d be shocked if this wasn’t at least a partial inspiration for the book), but, again, caught my eye—of all the movies to inspire a younger-leaning YA novel, Frailty would not be my first choice. That being said, A Crooked Mark, though not without its flaws, scratched the itch I needed—corny, supernatural fun.

From here on out, if I say “corny” in this review, I mean in the most affectionate way possible. I was on a streak of reading a lot of adult fiction/more literary-leaning fiction, and while I enjoyed all that, A Crooked Mark was just the kind of unserious book I needed to shake things up. It feels like it could’ve been the kind of campy, supernatural drama that I would’ve watched in middle school, down to the fact that there’s actually a character named Moose. It’s great. I’ve seen a lot of reviews comparing it to Supernatural, which I haven’t seen, but even from the vibes I get from the show, the comparison hits the nail right on the head. The writing, while it wasn’t the best, really nailed that feel, even if it wasn’t what Kao was going for. I can probably enjoy it more because there isn’t cheesier acting attached to the already cheesy writing, but either way, A Crooked Mark was made for corny enjoyment.

Going off of that, A Crooked Mark really nailed the beats of that kind of campy, paranormal story. Matt was the perfect protagonist for this story—not overly brooding, but still self-serious (in a very un-serious way) enough that he was fun to follow around. His friend group didn’t necessarily contribute a whole lot to the narrative, but they served the purpose of putting a shield around Rae—and later being sources of conflict once everything went south. Rae was on the too-perfect side, but again: this is the campiest book I’ve read all month. I’m not expecting monumentally good character development. I did also love that Matt was mixed-race—as a mixed-race person, I wouldn’t say it’s groundbreaking rep, or that the book explores his mixed-race identity poignantly (it really doesn’t), but it’s more important in that everybody deserves to be the hero of a cheesy, paranormal teen drama. It’s what we deserve.

That being said, for a book where Matt was up against the clock trying to discover if Rae really was marked by Lucifer himself and put an end to said evil, A Crooked Mark meandered quite a lot. It was more than a sagging middle—more of a sagging 60-75% of the whole book. There was a whole lot of uneventful high school bonding, a lot of Rae’s tutoring sessions that went nowhere, and a lot of hemming and hawing in general. It would have been easy to add bits of drama here and there to amp up the stakes, and Kao partially did this, but not enough to sustain the story. Especially since a lot of the “twists” ended up being dead ends, (save for the Big Twist™️), there really should’ve been more suspense—or at least more drama—before the main twist right before the climax. I was in it for the cheese in the first 30% or so, and it only managed to pick up in the last 20% of the book—not enough to hold my attention.

All in all, A Crooked Mark isn’t anything revolutionary or exceptionally well-written, but if you’re in the mood for something spooky and campy, this is the perfect book for you. 3.5 stars!

A Crooked Mark is a standalone and Linda Kao’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

I love listening to music like this while I’m just calmly doing chores…I’ll just be cleaning the sink and Joe Talbot’s aggressively screaming about kindness and consent in my ears bahahaha I love IDLES

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

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Books for Native American Heritage Month

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Thursday, bibliophiles!

Here in the U.S., November is Native American Heritage Month! I’m surprised that I haven’t compiled a list for the occasion yet, but to be fair, November tends to be a busy month for me. But now that I’m a few days away from break, I figured I would use that time to make this list.

Despite the wonderful boost in diversity in YA and adult literature in the past decade or so, I’ve seen very little of that diversity focused on Indigenous characters and stories. It could be just me, from an outsider perspective, but diversity means boosting all voices—not just the few that you can think of off the top of your head when you think of the word “diversity.” And as an American, I know full well that we are and always have been living on stolen land, so it’s important to read outside of what our history books teach us. So I’ve compiled some of my favorite books by Native American, Indigenous, and First Nations authors for the occasion.

Let’s begin, shall we?

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR NATIVE AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH

FANTASY:

REALISTIC FICTION & HISTORICAL FICTION:

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

Today’s song:

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

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Book for Asexual Awareness Week – 2023 Edition

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

First off, apologies for the lack of a book review/Sunday Songs this week. I’ve just been busy with school, and I didn’t have as much time to sit down and write something that wasn’t the draft I’m trying to get myself back into the rhythm of writing. (I’ve been cobbling at this post in advance before this week, so that’s why you’re able to see it now.) Plus, I was just generally exhausted on Tuesday, but it was a good exhaustion, all things considered, because I’d seen Peter Gabriel the night before! Words don’t do justice to how incredible of a show it was. You’ll definitely hear about it later.

Here in the U.S., Asexual Awareness week, or Ace Week, is celebrated from October 22-28! Even though I’m not on the asexual/aromantic spectrum, it’s impossible to not see how much this community gets left behind, even within the LGBTQ+ community; just as any other spectrum of identity, it’s just as valid and worthy of respect as anything else. I’ve been meaning to make more asexual book lists, but this time of year is kind of crazy for me. But this year, I figured I would start early so I would have another book list—we need to shed more light on these fantastic books and authors!

For my original list from 2020, click here!

Let’s begin, shall we?

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR ASEXUAL AWARENESS WEEK

FANTASY:

REALISTIC & HISTORICAL FICTION:

SCI-FI:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and what did you think of them? What are your favorite books with characters on the asexual spectrum? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

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

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (8/15/23) – Nightbirds

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ve seen this novel around a fair bit ever since it came out, both in the blogosphere and from our queen Amie Kaufman, who co-hosted the podcast Pub Dates with Kate J. Armstrong. It seemed like a more unique YA fantasy concept, and the 20’s-inspired setting intrigued me, and…okay, who wasn’t looking at that gorgeous cover? Now that I’ve read it, I can say that I enjoyed it, but I came away with mixed feelings—Nightbirds was a well-crafted fantasy in terms of worldbuilding, but its characters and general fence-sitting about what it wanted to say slightly put me off.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Nightbirds (Nightbirds, #1) – Kate J. Armstrong

In Simta, no one is more sought after than the Nightbirds. Long ago, these girls from the Great Houses were bestowed with the magic of witches, and with a kiss, they can grant that power to anyone who wishes to wield it. Matilde, Sayer, and Æsa are this season’s Nightbirds, but they have already learned that they will only ever be seen and treated as disposable. Yearning for something more to life, they stumble upon an underground networks of witches—witches whose powers come fro outside of the Great Houses, and are hidden from sight from the government. With the knowledge that their power will not be suppressed, the three Nightbirds set out to make things right.

TW/CW: misogyny, fantasy violence, murder, death, past mentions of torture, near-death situations

I came to this book mainly from the word of Amie Kaufman, who also happened to release a 1920’s-inspired YA fantasy this year. And while I did enjoy Nightbirds as a whole, the more I thought about it, the more drawbacks I found. If you’re torn between the two, stick with The Isles of the Gods.

Let’s start with the best part of the novel, though: the worldbuilding at the atmosphere! The Jazz Age inspiration was heavy, but it was executed incredibly; the worldbuilding, from the hidden magic to the forces trying to suppress it, was impeccably-crafted, with not a single stone unturned in terms of the intricacies of Simta and Armstrong’s world as a whole. It was a world that felt genuinely fun to be in—there was so much to explore along with the three main characters, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

All that wouldn’t have been possible with Armstrong’s atmospheric writing. There were other markers about Nightbirds that signaled it as a debut novel (more on that later), but for a first novel, the writing in this novel was fantastic! It’s the kind of writing that doesn’t just immerse you in the world, but dunks you headfirst into it with its vivid, vibrant imagery. Armstrong’s writing was so clear that I could visualize the world of Nightbirds almost cinematically, every scene played out like it already had a screen adaptation. The steady pacing added to that effect as well—it had a great balance of political intrigue, action, and down time to keep me intrigued for most of the novel.

However, the multiple POVs were an issue for me for most of the novel. The worst crimes that a multi-POV book can commit is not marking which POV the chapter is from, and switching POVs without warning in the middle of a chapter. Nightbirds was guilty of both. With these kinds of books, it’s often a struggle to pick out one character’s voice from another, but the third-person POV remedied that slightly. Even so, it was maddening trying to feel my way through the chapter and remember whose POV was being focused on. And speaking of the characters, they were in some serious need of being fleshed-out. Other than Matilde, whose personality was being entitled and stubborn, I could barely get a read on both Sayer and Æsa beyond what the synopsis said about them. Aside from Matilde, they had hardly any distinctive features, personalities, or traits, which made the whole multiple-POV mess all the more maddening. All of it could have been prevented with some chapter headers and giving the characters more life—it really wouldn’t have been all that hard of a fix.

And for a book that was advertised as being a feminist fantasy, Nightbirds really didn’t seem to know what it wanted to say. For a plot centered around an archaic system built on exploiting teenage girls, you would think that there would at least be some commentary on it. All we really got was a hollow, vague sense of taking back power, but there was no real call to action to do just that; aside from the revelation of the underground network of witches whose magic hasn’t been suppressed by the fantasy patriarchy, there’s hardly any real questioning of the system or realizing that there is a way to reform it and break away from it entirely. It’s like the book equivalent of thinking that you’re a feminist just because you post some instagram infographics on your story every once in a while and do nothing else. It’s saying “smash the patriarchy!” and then sitting comfortably and doing nothing. That’s basically what Matilde’s “character arc” ended up being, honestly. I know there’s probably better words to describe it, but the one that comes to mind is just…white woman-y. I guess I missed the queer rep (WHERE??? I saw no indication of any queerness 😭), but except for that and the conveniently described token side character of color, there was no hint of intersectionality. And no, I’m not saying that every book has to have an impeccably diverse cast, but for a book that billed itself as feminist and supposedly centered around tearing down oppressive systems, I feel like intersectionality should be taken far more into consideration. Nightbirds just came off as more white feminism than actual feminism.

All in all, a fantasy debut with stunning worldbuilding, but that was dragged down by its lack of fleshed-out characters and hardly any hint of the feminist messaging that it advertised. 3.5 stars.

Nightbirds is the first in the Nightbirds duology, which continues with the forthcoming sequel Fyrebirds. Nightbirds is Kate J. Armstrong’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

this is just such a GROOVE

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 (8/1/23) – Magonia

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles, and happy August! I always look forward to my birthday month, but…I could do without everybody posting that one Taylor Swift song (sorry swifties my neighbors blasted it over and over when I was in school and I can’t take it any longer 😭)

This book has been on and off my TBR over the years; I feel like I put it on my list when I first got Goodreads, lost interest in it a few years later, then got it recommended to me by a friend who saw it on another list. The reviews don’t lie: Magonia really was a strange book, but despite some of its flaws, its strangeness was 100% its strength.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Magonia (Magonia, #1) – Maria Dahvana Headley

All of her life, Aza Ray Boyle has had a mysterious lung disease, incapable of being diagnosed by all kinds of doctors. She can barely breathe or speak without assistance, even with the copious medications prescribed to her. But recently, Aza has begun to see giant ships in the sky. Her parents chalk these visions up to her medication, but Aza knows that something in the sky is waiting for her—and it is. But after a freak accident leads her family to believe that she is dead, Aza is swept up into the world of Magonia, a world of skyfaring ships where she can finally breathe. But as she discovers her hidden Magonian heritage, she discovers that this idyllic world in the clouds is not as peaceful as she once thought—and that the world below may be in danger…

TW/CW: fantasy violence, death/funeral, themes of grief

To put it plainly, Magonia was a weird book. For a YA book that was published in 2015, it feels a lot more daringly weird than most YA books got back then and still do today. Magonia was Maria Dahvana Headley’s first YA novel, and it shows, but not necessarily in a bad way; despite its flaws, it was a refreshingly quirky addition to the pantheon of early to mid-2010’s YA.

I’ve seen this book shelved as having disability rep, and that’s part of why I decided to pick it up again. Aza has a lung disease, but it’s fictional; all of her life, doctors cannot seem to diagnose her, until it is discovered that the disease happens to be a whole bird growing in her chest that factors into the book about a third of the way through. And…I’m torn on whether or not to call it disability rep. On the one hand, the descriptions of Aza’s life before the bird revelation match a lot of other stories I’ve read about people and fictional characters with breathing-related illnesses and disabilities, what with being constantly in and out of hospitals and struggling to fit in with one’s peers. And on the other hand…it feels a little strange, as a disabled reader, to categorize having a fictional ailment of bird growing out of your chest as a disability, especially since the problem resolves itself almost immediately once Aza arrives in Magonia. My issue isn’t that this plotline exists—it’s the category of others labeling this as disability rep that feels questionable to me.

That aside, Magonia was a refreshing novel to read! Especially for a YA book published in 2015, when the industry was so mired in self-serious Hunger Games rip-offs, the unapologetic weirdness of this novel felt like a breath of fresh air, even almost a decade later. We need more whimsy like this in YA—it shouldn’t just be reserved for middle grade. The whimsy doesn’t just die when you hit the age of 13! (Or, at least, it shouldn’t.) I loved the world that Headley created, full of winged people, whales that swim through the sky and giant bats (CREATURES YEAAAAAAAH) and massive frigates that patrol the skies. Headley put so much love into this part of the worldbuilding, and it shone through in every page. It did not hold back in its magical fun, and I am so much better for it.

I’ve seen a lot of reviews saying that they didn’t like how Aza’s voice was written, and to a point, I can understand it. From the looks of it, most of Headley’s body of work is aimed at adults, so it makes sense that she felt as though she had to tone it down and write Aza in a certain, “teenagery” way. But for the most part, I feel like it worked—Aza really did read like she was really 15 going on 16: despite her circumstances, she was still an angsty teenager, but that wasn’t her whole personality. She reacted to her situation as a real teenager would, had her priorities set where a teenager would have them. Aza really was a teenager, and teenagers tend to over-exaggerate things sometimes. It wasn’t all over-exaggeration, though—it was just the right amount of drama and realistically being frightened by everything going on around her, because who wouldn’t be?

However, as engrossed I was with the whimsical fantasy worldbuilding, I found the ending to be quite messy. I get that it’s the first book in the series, but Magonia could have been wrapped up in a much neater and more cohesive way. Details that were only given in the last 50 pages suddenly had utmost importance to the plot, all of the loose ends got even looser, and everything felt generally rushed. Looking back on how much I enjoyed the worldbuilding, it feels like a case of paying too much attention to that and not enough to how the plot would actually play out. Everything felt crammed together and sped through in such an unceremonious way. It’s why I felt like I couldn’t quite give this novel a full 4 stars; the ending made the rest of the intricacies earlier into a rushed mess.

All in all, a refreshingly weird YA fantasy that excelled in its whimsical worldbuilding, but failed in the messy pacing of the ending. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!

Magonia is the first in the Magonia series, followed by Aerie. Maria Dahvana Headley is also the author of The Mere Wife, Queen of Kings, Some Gods of El Paso, and many other novels and short stories. Headley also translated a modern version of Beowulf in 2020.

Today’s song:

NEW WILCO JUST DROPPED?????

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 (7/11/23) – The Whispering Dark

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’m willing to go out of my genre comfort zone when it comes to finding books with good disability rep, and that was the case for this book; dark academia usually puts me off (see my review of Victoria Lee’s A Lesson in Vengeance for the gist of my gripes about it), but I’m always here for books by disabled authors! In this case, it was worth it, but the experience wasn’t the one that I think the author intended—The Whispering Dark was a mess, but in kind of a fun way. For the most part.

Enjoy this week’s review!

this cover is so goofy to me for no reason 💀

The Whispering Dark – Kelly Andrew

Delaney Meyers-Petrov is determined to prove herself. All of her life, people have perceived her as fragile because of her Deafness, but when she’s accepted into the famed, rigorous Godbole University, she knows that this is the ultimate chance to show the world what she’s really made of. But Godbole isn’t an ordinary college—its students are trained to jump between parallel worlds, tapping into arcane magic in order to travel through alternate dimensions. As Delaney faces ableism from her peers and professors, a boy from her past, and the pressure to get good grades, the sinister side of Godbole begins to show its face. For months, boys have been going missing, and the answer to their disappearance may be right in front of her. Will she be able to get to the bottom of what’s killing Godbole’s student body—and work with this mysterious boy?

TW/CW: ableism, murder, blood, gore, past descriptions of death, near-death experiences

Look, you slip the phrase “unholy affliction” into a sentence, and you’ll automatically make me think of Soccer Mommy. And the more I think about it, the more it feels like the vibe of that song is what this book really, desperately wanted to be, but…wasn’t. At all.

Normally, I steer clear of dark academia—the really bad stuff just feels like a bunch of Donna Tartt copycats writing about rich people being “morally gray” (read: smoking indoors, wearing turtlenecks and forming vague “secret societies”) and trying to capitalize off of a popular aesthetic. However, the fact that this one featured a disabled character written by a disabled author (!!!), convinced me to give The Whispering Dark a chance. Here’s the thing: the disability rep? It’s fantastic. Everything else? Not so much. The Whispering Dark was an absolute mess, but it got to the point where its utter ridiculousness was honestly kind of fun to read, so it wasn’t entirely a waste of time.

Let’s start off with the disability rep. Although I can’t speak to the accuracy of the specific rep (Delaney, the MC, is Deaf), it’s so refreshing to see disabled authors writing disabled characters—Kelly Andrew is also Deaf! And even without being Deaf, Andrew wrote some of the specificities of Delaney’s experience with her disability beautifully; I loved the details about how Delaney moved through life, from how the noises around her are described to subtle details like the change in sound when the battery runs out in her cochlear implant. Along with that, Andrew’s portrayal of being a disabled college student really resonated with me, from the nerves about personally confronting professors about accommodations to Delaney’s desire to prove herself.

Aside from that, it’s hard for me to find anything genuinely positive to say about The Whispering Dark. There are more positives in my eyes, to be fair, but they aren’t necessarily about how I think this novel was meant to be taken. In my experience, this book was SUPER campy, but the kind of campy that unintentionally resulted from taking itself so seriously that it becomes almost hilarious. I still can’t believe that all of this was played so straight—this book fell headfirst into every cheesy YA fantasy trope like a 5-year-old being pushed off of a diving board, and we were somehow expected to take it all seriously. You’ve got your edgy protagonist with her dyed hair and her edgy nickname, a mysterious, Ivy League school that teaches its students to jump between parallel worlds, students showing up dead, and a romance with a mysterious, dangerous older boy, who is compared by the MC to Patrick Bateman (I wish I was kidding), but still ends up being the one for whom the MC falls head-over-heels in love with. The way Andrew wrote it felt like she thought it was the most original idea in YA in the last decade, and honestly? I had to laugh. It felt like watching a terrible movie for the irony. Solid unintentional camp. I mean, look at how goofy that cover is.

And look—as campy as The Whispering Dark was, I at least expected there to be a little bit of worldbuilding. Here’s the thing: THERE WAS NONE. Interested in learning about Godbole University and how you can jump through parallel worlds with magic, according to Kelly Andrew? You’re outta luck. There aren’t any explanations for anything—you just get tossed around to parallel worlds without any explanation as to how. Want to know how the various types of magic factor into this world-hopping? Sorry, come back later. Want to know how the villain is using said world-hopping to kill unsuspecting students? Nope, looks like you’ve used up your three wishes. Again, it got to the point where it just felt so bad that it was funny—worldbuilding? Who is she? And it only proves my belief that dark academia, as a genre, suffers from “no plot, only vibes” syndrome time and time again.

All in all, a novel with great disability rep, but that took itself far too seriously for the campy train wreck that it was. We disabled readers deserve our mindless camp too. 3 stars.

The Whispering Dark is a standalone, and Kelly Andrew’s debut novel; her next novel, Your Blood, My Bones, is slated for release in 2024.

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!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (7/4/23) – Painted Devils (Little Thieves, #2)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles, and happy…Tuesday. The fact that the Fourth of July comes so close on the heels of the Supreme Court releasing the results of all of their major rulings has significantly soured most attempts I’ve tried to have at patriotism (especially since we have the incredibly unfortunate conservative majority controlling far more than they should), especially in our post-Roe era. None of that puts me in a particularly patriotic mood. But, as always, criticizing your country and pushing for change that will make it better is, to me, is the best kind of patriotism. And if nothing else, I get the day off work today. I’m not about to complain.

That aside, I’ve got an exciting review today! Ever since I devoured Little Thieves back in January, I’ve been itching to read the sequel, which came out this May. After a few failed attempts to get it on Libby, I finally got a physical copy from the library and ate it up as quickly as I did its predecessor. And although I liked it slightly less than book 1, Painted Devils retained its spirit—delightful from start to finish.

Now, tread lightly! This review may contain spoilers for book 1, Little Thieves, so if you haven’t read it and intend to do so, skip over this review.

For my review of Little Thieves, click here!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Painted Devils (Little Thieves, #2) – Margaret Owen

Vanja Schmidt may have succeeded in breaking a godly curse and finding love with Emeric, but that doesn’t mean that her conniving days are behind her. In fact, they’re very much alive—and proved when she fabricates a god to get out of a slippery situation. Problem is, the townsfolk have now accepted Vanja’s Scarlet Maiden as their god, and started a cult in her name. And the Scarlet Maiden demands a sacrifice in blood—a sacrifice that Vanja can’t afford to make. While Emeric goes on a hunt to verify the Scarlet Maiden’s existence, Vanja must find a way out of the sacrifice before time runs out—and before her fraud is exposed.

TW/CW: abuse (physical and verbal), fantasy violence, blood, body image issues, abandonment, animal death, cult imagery

Seeing the phrases “we live in a society” and “scrimblo” within 100 pages of each other in a medieval-inspired fantasy book felt like being hit by a train, to say the least, but the fact that Margaret Owen very nearly pulled it off is nothing short of a miracle. I’m still reeling just thinking about it.

My months of waiting and searching are finally over—I managed to get Painted Devils in my hands, and I’m so happy for it! Although it wasn’t quite as cohesive as Little Thieves was, it was nevertheless a delight from start to finish—being back with Vanja on her chaotic adventures was nothing short of a joy in a sea of YA fantasy novels that take themselves a little too seriously, even though their protagonists are only 16.

I’ll quickly start off with my one major gripe—the reason that I docked it down from book 1’s 4.5 stars to 4.25. Painted Devils, as much as I adored it, definitely fell into the curse of book 2: all of the good elements were still there, but they lacked the cohesion that the first book had. It was all fun, but a good portion of the middle felt like the characters were running around for no reason, without much consequence to the plot. Some of it felt like filler, and for a book that was almost 500 pages long, it didn’t feel altogether necessary.

Other than that, it’s hard to find any nitpicks or problems with Painted Devils! Even though Vanja has always been the main character, this book really felt more about her—it was wholly her story, about what happens when your storied past catches up to you, and how to reckon with your past to become the person you are today. Even amidst the near-constant humor that these books have relied on, Owen manages to tackle so much of Vanja’s character with incredible aplomb, balancing her bouncing-off-the-walls personality with some genuinely heartbreaking and wholly important discussions about familial manipulation and abuse. For a series that’s often been defined by its levity, Vanja’s journey towards self-love and acceptance was unexpectedly heartfelt. It’s exceedingly difficult to balance those two aspects, but Owen made it look easy.

Beyond that, I loved seeing the relationship between Emeric and Vanja develop, both romantically and platonically! They continue to be perfect foils for each other—a physical representation of the grounded and humorous qualities of this novel, and how they complement each other. Their personalities have started to bleed into each other in the sweetest way—Emeric starting to loosen up, and Vanja reluctantly trying to do the opposite—and every moment they shared together was a delight to read. Plus, the discussions about consent are always welcome, and a refreshing break from the years of 500+ year old fantasy love interest that we’ve all had to slog through in the last decade or so.

Owen’s writing, of course, continues to be the star. It’s rare that an author can make a character whose main trait is being “chaotic/morally gray” into something that goes above and beyond the buzzwords—Vanja continues to be impressively fleshed-out, and my life is all the better for it. Some of the more meme-y humor, like the previous book, continues to be jarring in places, but Owen’s other points of humor makes for a wonderfully charming read. There’s really not much else in the world of YA fantasy that succeed like Little Thieves and Painted Devils do: bringing the joy back to a magical, fairytale-inspired world, and balancing it with the reality and darkness that every bad, gritty fairytale retelling missed by a mile. Even with the frustrating ending, I’m so eager to see where the conclusion takes Vanja, Emeric, and all the rest.

I really feel like the world needs a 2D animated adaptation of these books. Just saying.

All in all, a sequel that was a delight to read, even with its lessened cohesion. 4.25 stars!

Painted Devils is the second book in Margaret Owen’s Little Thieves trilogy, preceded by Little Thieves and concluded by an untitled book slated for release in January of 2024. She is also the author of the Merciful Crow duology (The Merciful Crow and The Faithless Hawk).

Today’s song:

XYLOPHONE SOLO

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