jefferz's reviews
120 reviews

 

Desert dystopia, war-waging fae courts, hordes of the undead, metal-crafting and a dark, snippy otherworldly savior, Callie Hart incorporates a lot of appealing elements from all-across the fantasy genre and melts them together into the romantasy epic Quicksilver. Featuring a strong-willed and resourceful FMC cast into a magical multi-dimensional and vast world, there's a lot to like in Quicksilver and the intertwined fates of its main characters paired with steamy scenes feel directly catered to what most romantasy readers are looking for. Unfortunately despite being full of ambition, demonstrated through its overarching plot, the actual execution of its various fantasy elements doesn't feel connected and at times, the rules of magic and world-building to be quite wild and unhinged. With less than graceful transitions between its fantasy and romance scenes and near incoherent magic rules towards the end of the story, Quicksilver was unfortunately a miss and an overhyped booktok influencer pick for me. 

Depending on how you look at it, Quicksilver can either feel like a nod to many popular fantasy books that came before it, or a manic combination of everything trendy thrown together haphazardly. Taking the romance element out of the equation temporarily, the fantasy-filled story of Quicksilver has lot of things going for it. The FMC Saeris is akin to Aladdin, struggling to survive with her brother Hayden in a desert-set dystopian city. Drawing ire from the Queen, Saeris then finds herself transported to another world of the fae, sharply transitioning into a dark academia style story as she discover the extent of her metal-manipulation related powers along with her dangerous and dark savior Kingfisher. As the story progresses, Saeris and Kingfisher move to the frontlines of inter-kingdom battlefront and the dangerous land nearby that's full of undead "feeders". 

Even in my brief, spoiler-free summary, it's impossible to notice where Callie Hart likely drew many of her literary inspirations from. The dystopian colony feels like a callback to the 2010's era where dystopian YA's were everywhere while the dark academia and magic setting is very on-brand at the moment. The undead/evil entity kingdom Saeris finds herself against are the cursed fae that are essentially vampires (with Saeris and Kingfisher's own romance echoing familiar areas loosely connected to Twilight) and for good measure, there's even a shifting labyrinth that is clearly inspired by the Maze Runner. There's lower magical beings, magical swords and relics, vampires, healers, witches, Quicksilver has so much going on. While on one-hand the story certainly will have something for everyone, these elements don't feel like they're properly connected to each other, the story constantly shifting between these inspirations every hundred pages or so. Each section on their own is quite good, but the overall story feels messy. As the story's intensity and stakes start to stack up, the world-building becomes increasingly incoherent, with new magic rules, oaths, or beings unveiled on the fly with zero prior setup (the book doesn't even try to explain all of Kingfisher's random magical powers that seem specific to him and no other fae). While most of these are utilized to explain and justify many of the unexpected plot twists in the back-half of the story, the execution causes the developments to feel utterly chaotic rather than surprising (I'm still not quite sold on the concept of fae being cursed to be vampires and only some being cured of the curse and being described as another type of being...). 

While the fantasy side of the romantasy genre has quite a lot going on, the romance side is far more straight-forward and successful. I generally liked the chemistry between the two characters and the spicy scenes were varied and well-done, but I often found myself baffled at the lack of transitions between the romance and fantasy-based chapters. While I haven't read many romantasy novels to compare to (which will be changing soon!), for me Quicksilver often ping-ponged between sex scenes or eye-undressing moments expected for the genre, then have almost no trace of it for multiple chapters. The first sixty pages of the book largely felt like a standard fantasy adventure novel, then without warning it's like a lightbulb went off and Hart remembered it's supposed to be a romantasy book, laying it on thick and abruptly. Additionally, despite how much is going on in the story, the novel somehow still feels quite slow and repetitive. There are brief moments of the book that are exciting and quite compelling, particularly the action and combat scenes at the start in the desert city and near the end of the book. I've read a lot of classic fantasy adventure epics back in the day and at times, Quicksilver reminded me of those favorite reads. Unfortunately they are few and far between surrounded by so much lackluster fluff that neither enhances the romance, nor expands the workings of its world. This story really needs far better development of its multiple fantasy elements or a more consistent romance to justify its unnecessarily long 600 page count. 

Another subjective issue I had with Quicksilver is its main character Saeris. Confident, strong-willed, stubborn, and rough around the edges, you can tell that Hart was shooting to make Saeris a feisty female lead meant to go toe-to-toe with the brooding and edgy Kingfisher. While there are moments where Saeris's character gets it right, she spends the rest of the book complaining, grimacing, and throwing child-like tantrums at every new development she encounters. When the story is taking place in the initial desert dystopian city, her character is mildly irritating but at least has moments for her street-smart skills to shine and to justify her cockiness. Once Saeris ends up in the land of the Fae however, it's an endless cycle of bickering with Kingfisher and co. and making a fool of herself through the various rules and customs of the fae. The first few times are fine, but this repetition gets old really quickly and Saeris's narration largely comes off like a moody and volatile child. It's actually quite baffling why Hart wrote the plot and Saeris/Kingfisher's dynamic in this way as it exacerbates the gap in physical age, maturity, both magical and physical power, and their places in the fae society. From the get-go Kingfisher feels considerably more experienced, wise and proficient at everything and Saeris's constant outbursts make the romantic interest from his side seemingly unlikely at best, creepily interested in a teenager (18+ ofc) at worst. The book addresses this by making them pre-destined by fate as per the expected and tired norm for the genre, but it's still weak explanation and there's very few opportunities for Kingfisher to actually fall in love with Saeris from a narrative standpoint. 

While there's a lot of good elements included in Quicksilver, the overall execution and story is all over the place and incredibly inconsistent. At first I thought perhaps I was the problem, being a male reader less than experienced with the romantasy genre, being more familiar with standard fantasy or contemporary romance reads. However, it seems other reviewers or other female readers seem to have similar opinions of the novel's notable drawbacks so perhaps my opinion is valid. And that's quite a shame since I fully believe Quicksilver had a great story had it focused on a few chosen fantasy elements rather than its throw everything at the wall and see what sticks approach. The last 100 pages in particular have such wild plot twists and connections that truly stretch what's believable (Carrion and Madra in particular), not to mention the villains having completely improbably alliances or a complete lack of compelling motivation (merely wanting pure power is fine for a kids book but this is certainly not that). I think if subsequent books focus more on Saeris and Kingfisher's growing relationship or more of the fantasy action that was quite good in places, this can be an excellent series. Unfortunately I probably won't be sticking around to find out, though I will be picking up Fourth Wing soon to see if my bafflement at Quicksilver is mostly limited to this book or the bigger romantasy genre as a whole. 

 

Light-hearted, funny, yet far more ambitious that expected considering it's a sequel to a low-stakes and silly romcom, Not That Impossible by Isabel Murray features one of the most wholesome and endearing queer romcom main character I've read in quite a while. Although the marketing and the book's synopsis doesn't really mention it, Not That Impossible is a purposeful sequel to Not That Complicated rather than a spin-off story or anthology entry. Despite being narrated by another character and obviously having a different love interest, this novel covers the same events as its predecessor and includes all of the same characters portrayed in a different light from a new perspective. Knowledge of the events and the plot of the first book are required to enjoy Not That Impossible and the more familiar one is with the existing characters and story, the stronger and more satisfying this read can be. I picked up this novel on a whim, having recently received a three month free trial of Kindle Unlimited and was curious to see where this story went after reading the rather mixed reviews it has. I went in expecting more silly romcom shenanigans similar to the first book but ended up impressed by how much stronger and well-executed this story was. If you are considering giving this a read, do not read into how negative a lot of the top-rated reviews are and give it an honest chance before judging it. 

In order to talk about and review Not That Impossible, recapping a bit of Not That Complicated is a must (this will contain spoilers of the first book which you SHOULD have already read if you are looking at reading this one). The general premise of the first book involves a 30+ yr old graphic designer Ray who is repeatedly forced to check-in to a local hotel after his house becomes a potential crime scene when a dead body is found mummified under the floorboards of his bedroom. The hotel's front desk is staffed by 20smth yr old Adam Blake who he has a "complicated" history with (get the title reference?) who has been utterly infatuated with Ray for years. Side characters in this story are Police Detective Liam Nash who is in charge of the investigation into the dead body found at Ray's house as well as Jasper Connolly, an amateur aspiring journalist who becomes involved while attempting to report on the case. Not That Impossible covers the same general story, except this time told from the perspective of Jasper who has been dreaming about Liam for the last decade. Additionally, although he is not the focus of the story, Adam is also heavily featured in this story as Jasper's childhood best friend and Liam's cousin. Timeline-wise, this novel actually starts much earlier than the first book as Ray doesn't find the dead body until well into this story and the it ends after Ray and Adam become a couple. 

I make a point to recap the first book because it serves as important context in order to properly review and highlight some of this book's best features. Easily one of the best parts of Not That Impossible is how well it builds off of the existing story in Not That Complicated and fills in a lot of details that perfectly work around the original's continuity. While I found Not That Complicated's story to be fun and light-hearted, my review for that book wrote that the plotting felt a bit haphazard yet also contrived, seeking to get Ray and Adam into as many steamy scenes regardless of how plausible they seemed. Interestingly, this book feels the complete opposite where the story only has two notable sex scenes (technically only one while the other is mostly one-sided foreplay), but the rest of the plot feels purposeful and well planned out. From start to finish, this is a character-focused story specific to Jasper as it's less of a slapstick romcom and more of a standard contemporary romance drama. While still light-hearted and comedic, Not That Impossible is more than just Jasper x Liam scenes and heavily involves Jasper's pursuits as an aspiring journalist, his main day job as a personal trainer, and his Liam Nash erotica fanfiction writing hobby. While the last one obviously is played for laughs initially, by the end of the story even that one has an important narrative purpose. While early fanfics are hilariously silly, Murray uses them as a metaphor for Jasper's feelings; the most comical ones of him being killed off or sidelined in his own stories during his irl moments of dejection. Near the end of the story, one of the most comical moments of the book is when he hilariously role-swaps Liam and his characters in the dom/sub warlord fanfiction (intimidating leader and plunderer, Jasper is most certainly not). The story is is such a substantial jump in quality and plotting that I almost feel like the events of the first book were written as a framework for this book, rather than the other way around. The way the discoveries of the two dead bodies contribute to Jasper's journalism pursuits, the involvement of Liam's professional work, and Adam's newly revealed thoughts via his friendship with Jasper that felt lacking in the first book, I have to commend Murray for how well the story comes together. 

In terms of characters, Jasper is a national treasure and an absolute delight to read about. I previously commented that although I liked Not That Complicated, Ray's character voice and personality was a bit overdramatic for my taste (or as I wrote in the review, I'm not flamboyant enough for this story). However, Jasper is pitched perfect and is almost impossible to dislike, with a good balance of emotional IQ and a healthy amount of self-confidence/personal flaws. Jasper's narration style is highly entertaining and his character is a nice combination of geeky hobbies meshed with being physically attractive and fit (this is a key point that adds a lot of humor when Jasper overpowers detective Liam who is both older and gruffer, a refreshing reversal of a common m/m trope). The story has far more character growth and development than you would expect based on the romcom synopsis, and Jasper's journey with his writing pursuits is surprisingly ambitious and well-written, not to mention fully matching his existing movements and events in the first book. Not only that, but this story actually explains why all the other characters kept telling Ray not to sue Jasper for defamation in the first book and that's he's actually a good bloke. The character motivations also make perfect sense for why Jasper writes two off-beat newspaper articles that were seen as random and damaging in the first book. 

Liam on the other hand, seems to be controversial to many other readers who write him off as a jerk and undeserving of Jasper. Whether its my own personality being somewhat similar to Liam or the fact that I'm a similar age to Liam (should I take offense at how OLD I am according to these books...?), I don't agree with these assessments. While Liam sends mixed signals on paper over the course of the book, reading between the lines actually paints a different picture and one that shows he does care about Jasper and means the best, despite how his actions and words are interpreted at face value. The story actually has great explanations for Liam's uncertainty around Jasper and I'd be lying if I said I haven't also done things in a similar vein. One minor critique is that the same cannot be said about what causes Liam to change his mind and follow through with his restrained feelings. This is a potentially big sticking point as the book elaborates how he first met Jasper as Adam's bratty teenage friend and how big their ten year gap is. While a ten year gap later in life is less of issue, it takes a pretty substantial shift in image to change that impression which the story doesn't really attempt to do. Not That Complicated avoided this pitfall by writing around it and having Ray first meet Adam when they're much older. This pairing doesn't have that luxury and has the potential to run into the uncomfortable idea of a grown adult x teenager pairing, despite Murray's attempt to downplay this scenario by stating Liam only started developing feelings a year prior to the story. 

Surprisingly, despite not being part of the focal romantic pairing, Adam unexpectedly benefits almost as much as the other two in this book. I had critiqued that Adam's character and his interest in Ray felt underdeveloped and vague in Not That Complicated. Via his friendship with Jasper and his familial connection to Liam, this book shows a whole different side to Adam (dare I say, Adam actually has a personality outside of being just smoldering and cool here). The mutual pining and suffering between Jasper and Adam is refreshing and their friendly banter is great supporting material that I felt was lacking in the first book. On a side note, it had been a year since I read Not That Complicated so some of the details were a little fuzzy to me at first. For some reason I got confused and thought Jasper and Adam were related instead of Adam and Liam, so when Jasper mentioned that they were sort of friends with benefits before, I definitely raised an eyebrow (Isabel Murray's books have spice but I didn't know I was also signing up for incestral spice too). Comedic mix-up aside, this book definitely does not have any of that kind of forbidden encounters going on here. 

As far as the writing is concerned, Not That Impossible again feels like a universal improvement in just about every way. Not That Complicated was certainly funny and had a lot of laugh out loud jokes, but the humor often was often walking the line between funny and cringey with a mixed track record. The overall story and read also had a low-stakes, just for fun steamy romance vibe that certainly has its purpose and readership, but felt like it could've been so much more with more ambition. Murray basically took my review for the first book and threw it back in my face, hitting just about every point of criticism I had. Besides the actual story, Murray's writing feels more polished and consistent, at times even clever and heartfelt. All of the slapstick humor and over the top silliness is downplayed in favor of more sophisticated humor (fanfiction jokes aside) and relies far less on pop culture references. While the comedy aspect of the romcom genre isn't quite as funny here, I am more than happy with the tradeoff for an overall stronger and skillfully story. 

I normally specifically avoid referencing other opinions or reviews apart from brief mentions, but I feel the need to address how disappointed I am with the top-liked reviews for this book on Goodreads and other platforms. Except for one review, nearly every review bashes Liam as being an underserving jerk and criticizing this book for forgetting it was supposed to be a romance novel. It doesn't happen often, but upon finishing this read, I felt like I had to defend this book and address these points of criticism in hopes that potential readers will not be turned off by their reviews. The first point, although Liam can be perceived as a jerk based on his hot/cold signs and his hurtful words to Jasper, many reviewers fail to acknowledge that the character actually does care and at the end of the day, means well. Every interaction they have outside of the accidental run ins in the local coffee shop and at Ray's house is initiated by Liam where he provides Jasper valuable material for his journalism pursuits or is seeking out a personal connection. Additionally his terse yet caring inquiries to Adam about Jasper also provide a glimpses into his head in the middle section of the book where the character is mostly absent. Based on what I read in other reviews, a lot of these readers seem to be female m/m readers who are projecting their own preference for words of affirmation as a crucial love language (Liam's weakest love language) vs the character's preference for acts of service (the offers of information, their pizza dinner, etc.) and physical touch. There is a sizeable number of women who read romance m/m novels and this particular one seems to sit poorly with them. This is an weird hunch and while I don't mean to purposely stereotype, I do feel like this book is one that will likely appeal to queer individuals who actually are attracted to men far better than those who are not (particularly the sex scenes which feel different from past romance books I've read catered to chick lit readers). While there's always going to be a degree of subjective taste, the character's personality is an intentional choice that compliments the story and the author has the narrative details to back it up. Most comically, there is one review that has the characters of Liam and Adam mixed up which is kind of a major mistake, oops! 

The second point that this isn't a romance novel is completely off-based and straight up baffling to me. So many of the most popular and well-received romance novels are typically romance in addition to character growth or another storyline incorporated in the book. Reviews that criticize Not That Impossible for giving Jasper a journalism interest or fanfiction hobby is ridiculous as they both add depth to his character and the substance to the story. The journalism element plays an important role in the character's self-realization of what's important and makes him happy, and the erotic fanfiction serves as a foil to the journalism and as a metaphor for the state of his broken heart to Liam, shifting accordingly as their relationship evolves. Even if Liam isn't in the picture 24/7 and the two characters are not conversing face-to-face often, the romance element is constantly present and connected to just about every other element in the story. If these criticisms were instead something along the lines of "This isn't a meet-cute romance story", "this isn't a fair, balanced sexual relationship" (there's a dom/sub commanding tone to it that won't be for everyone), "this isn't a steamy novel and doesn't have enough sex scenes", sure I can understand and follow these sentiments. But to say this book lacks romance is very off-base. 

Other harsh online reviews (stereotypical for Goodreads) rant aside, Not That Impossible was an unexpectedly solid read for me! It certainly defied my limited expectations based on the first book Not That Complicated, and in direct conflict with majority of other readers, I greatly preferred this novel over the first one! From the plotting of the story, the more developed characters, more polished writing and sophisticated humor, Not That Impossible is a huge jump in quality and has a legitimately solid story instead of just coasting on silly humor and sex scenes. When I reviewed Not That Complicated, I wasn't sure if I'd ever go back to read the sequel especially with such an extensive to be read list. However, I'm glad that my current Kindle Unlimited marathon run gave me an excuse to revisit this book which is a fun and very quick read! (For Goodreads ratings, it's a 4.5 star rating rounded down, I'm very selective with my 5 star ratings). 

 

Swimming lessons, a hot coast guard rescuer, Key West charm, plus a 160 lb great dane? The Love Haters by Katherine Center has a recipe of elements perfect for a sweet and bubbly summer cocktail of a read. Featuring a fun and light-hearted plot with a bit of added substance from heavier topics like body image and public scrutiny, The Love Haters delivers a solid romcom experience, despite being a bit formulaic and predictable. Although I had a few minor nitpicks regarding the overall pacing and how the novel executed some of its more dramatic moments, I still found it very entertaining and worth reading. 

Mixing the tropes of a fish out of water (or in this case, surrounded by water) with the disheartened and romance skeptic, Katie’s story is one that’s both fun to read as well as one that’s quite relatable. Apart from the main plot involving Katie trying to produce a promotional film featuring an unwilling real-life hero in an effort to keep her job, there’s a secondary storyline involving body image and self-acceptance. While the former serves as the main hook, it’s the latter that I found pleasantly surprising and effective. While the two storylines seemingly have little to do with each other on paper, they both gradually begin to play off and eventually compliment each other, providing great character development as Katie discovers her own self worth next to the unsmiling yet perfect Hutch. Rather than merely settling with just being funny, Katie’s time in Key West quickly becomes a journey to self-appreciation and love, adding additional intention and depth to the story, albeit executed in a casual manner without the ambition or finesse to make it a standout feature. I went into The Love Haters having previously read Center's The Bodyguard which I considered to be an excellent romcom, and unsurprisingly got a few good laughs in this book as well, though the humor isn’t quite as funny here (Hannah is a more amusing and entertaining MC). However when compared, The Love Hater’s back-half definitely had a bit more substance while The Bodyguard was mostly just a good fun time. 

Immediately obvious from the get-go, one of The Love Haters’ highlights is the sunny and pastel-tinted portrayal of Key West and its far-removed, relaxed feel. Despite only one sentence of the synopsis advertising the story’s setting (along with the Coast Guard, another element incorporated well), I found Center’s choice of Key West to not only be a great narrative choice given its proximity to NAS Key West, but also for flavor and quite literally extra color. Having lived in “paradise” for the majority of my life, I’ve become accustomed and quite tired of how generic and all-encompassing tropical vacation locations like Key West are often portrayed in media. In The Love Haters however, Center’s approach and descriptions of Key West goes much further than what I was expecting for the story. Obviously romanticized for the feel-good nature of the novel and genre, I consistently found the descriptions and movements around the island to feel truly lived-in and well-researched, particularly Key West’s signature building style and distinctive colorful fashion. While not necessarily being the most lyrical or poetically beautiful descriptions I’ve read, Center captures the lifestyle and image of the island perfectly and many important plot elements simply could not work without the Key West location and warm portrayal. 

Another aspect of The Love Haters that I enjoyed was the portrayal and inclusion of the Coast Guard rescue operation that was cleverly integrated into Katie and Hutch’s story. Although it provided a lot of great slapstick comedic material and a narrative reason for pairing them off outside of “work”, I was impressed how Center was able to connect the military angle back to Katie’s personal demons. Aside from the obvious and overdone inability to swim element (providing plenty of Hutch eye candy scenes), I found a particular rescue helicopter flight protocol requirement very cleverly utilized for Katie’s self image storyline, particularly it’s takeaway message. While stereotypical, Hutch’s Coast Guard background also worked in the story’s favor as an understandable layer to his resistance to initial attraction, rather than merely being another generic standoffish aloof love interest. And while completely predictable and almost obligatory for the genre, the rescue motif near the conclusion also provides excellent romance opportunities if you know what I mean. 

While I enjoyed reading the novel which went by very fast, upon completion I felt that pacing and the overall focus of the story to be a little misplaced. While the first two thirds of the story was entertaining enough and Katie/Hutch had good chemistry, it mostly felt like fun in the sun slapstick fluff. That may seem like an odd thing to point out considering some of Center’s other novels mostly consist of quality, yet still slapstick content. However, once the novel hits the 60% mark, the real meat of Katie’s character story begins. The final third of the story abruptly shifts the tone and focus, which felt quite jarring compared to how relaxed the rest of the story felt. Additionally, the “lies” highlighted in the book’s synopsis and character relationships honestly started to feel quite chaotic, particularly nearly all of Katie’s coworker Cole’s character motivations and the conflict with his older brother Hutch. Their strained relationship, uncomfortable reunion, and all the conflict that follows felt quite manufactured and unusually forced due to a lack of foreshadowing or context clues (the exact same note I had with the love interest and familial discourse featured in The Bodyguard). The deceptions and plot progressions felt progressively more over the top, not to mention rushed and out of left field. To Center’s credit, the progressions were unexpectedly twisting and certainly amped up the story, invoking the worst thing that can happen trend. I fully believe that the plot and developments in the back of the story could’ve completely worked if more of Hutch/Cole/Rue’s backstories were incorporated into the first half of the story instead of revealing all of the cards in the moment, or if this narrative shift occurred far earlier in the story. Its current placement causes the chapters before it to feel like wasted pages underutilized while everything afterwards rushed and excessive. 

While Katie is given good character growth potential which culminates in a dramatic and unexpected ordeal with Hutch’s great dane George Bailey (while the good, it could’ve been great with more time), Hutch on the other hand didn’t feel as developed. While there’s a lot of interest revolving around his Coast Guard career and image-breaking moments with his dog and Rue’s gal pals, I was a bit disappointed that his character ultimately ended up simply being Mr. Perfect and morally flawless. The novel’s entire setup revolves around the world finding him attractive and perfect after a rescue video he’s in goes viral (much to the ire of Cole), but I was surprised that the story didn’t actually capitalize or twist that public image for narrative purposes and greater depth. While that’s slightly to be expected given the story’s feel-good tone and genre, this is again another point of criticism I had with The Bodyguard and its love interest Jack Stapleton; both male love interests felt too perfect and by extension, bland and forgettable. 

The side characters are another area that I felt hindered the novel’s enjoyment and the author’s ambition to be more than just a romcom (see Center’s extended author notes). While I found Rue to be lovely, decently developed, and having great character moments with Katie and her worries, Katie’s relative and friend Beanie (forgot what their relation was, perhaps a sign of what little impression she left) felt noisy and distracting to the story. Their girl talk gossipy phone calls about Katie’s time in Key West constantly felt like interruptions to the flow of the story and didn’t feel like they added anything of value. I realize how this sounds given I’m a male reader criticizing gal pal banter, however other reviews by female readers also share similar opinions of Beanie and her phone calls. Beanie’s narrative purpose in the story was clearly intended to be a foil to Katie’s self-image doubts and to help her reframe her opinion of herself, but the execution of their conversations felt underwhelming and lacking depth, given the weight of the topic. This is made all the more noticeable when Katie finally has her “ah-hah!” moments which feel less than satisfying when her support from Beanie all feels so trite. I almost would’ve preferred if Beanie was axed completely and her contributions to Katie’s growth were left solely to Rue, or less predictably, maybe even Katie’s boss Sullivan (the one who may fire her constantly). There’s a perfect opportunity near the end of the story where Katie and Sullivan have a brief heart to heart that could’ve strengthened both Sullivan’s character and the story considerably had it been fleshed out more. The same could be said about Cole whose lies and motivations felt all over the place. While the plot developments and conflict technically make sense on paper, the actual execution and my reaction to them while reading ranged from bafflement to confused amusement due to the lack of setup. The ARC version obviously may be different from the actual published version, but the ebook copy is not very long and certainly could’ve been longer if it allowed greater development to make Cole’s actions more believable. As it currently is, Cole becomes the scapegoat for every plot twist that feels like a narrative stretch under the guise of “I had to do it for you to keep your job”. The story falls back on this explanation far too many times, particularly since the initial reason for Katie taking on the Key West job in the first place is for that same repetitive reason. 

Despite some concerns about the pacing and side characters, I found The Love Haters to still be an entertaining read and an above average romance novel that’s awfully close to being an excellent one. The vibe and content is very much on-brand for what readers have come to expect from Katherine Center’s novels. The vibrant Key West setting and constant swimming-related events paired with a sexy tall Coast Guard also makes it a perfect summer vacation read, likely intentional given its announced late May publication date (also on-brand for me reading the summer story in Winter much like my Xmas themed reads in July). Overall, The Love Haters is a very easy book to pick-up and is a safe recommendation for most romance or chick lit readers. 

 

A mysterious parasitic ailment, a medical institute that isn’t what it seems, and the occupants of an isolated, frost-covered chateau sets the scene for an incredibly unique, ambitious, yet often confusing and disjointed read. I wholeheartedly agree with many other reviews of Hiron Ennes’s debut novel Leech that describe it as being positively weird (that’s a good thing) and unlike anything else within the horror and science fiction genres. With strong initial horror elements that vary from body, medical, and psychological horror (nothing too graphic, at least by my desensitized standards) to light elements of supernatural and monster horror, there are a lot of conceptually great ideas that make Leech a riveting read, at times. Unfortunately more often than not, the execution of these ideas and the narrative presentation severely drags down the enjoyment and cohesion of the story, resulting in a puzzling reading experience and a feeling of missed opportunity. 

Featuring fictional regions, settlements, and even reclusive people with vestigial features, Leech has numerous original ideas that together place the story in a purposely vague place that has conflicting indications of the time period. With an emphasis on motorized machinery and references to trains and airships, there are very subtle nods to steam or dieselpunk that add a bit of fantasy flair to the otherwise gothic and rural tale. Initially throwing the reader into the rural mining settlement of Verdira during the chill of Winter, the story begins with an unnamed doctor sent to replace their predecessor who is found mysteriously dead at the Baron’s chateau. Initially setup as a foreboding horror investigation laced with scientific medical intrigue, the first half of the story features some of the novel’s best atmospheric and “chilling” moments (get it, cause the chateau is frozen over…). Without giving away any major spoilers, the concept explaining the parasitic being in Leech is fascinating and is without a doubt a major selling point for the story. Based on the synopsis, I went into Leech obviously expecting some degree of medical and body horror and had recently read What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher that featured conceptually similar elements. However, the parasitic concept is utilized for completely different purposes in Leech and the novel can be a page-turner, particularly when certain developments connect it to Vedira and presence of fire; a visually rich narrative choice given the frozen setting.

As the novel progresses, there’s a notable shift in the narrative focus about two thirds into the book where the tone and story pivots into a more character-focused experience (a notable detachment to the characters and developments up to that point was a comment and drawback I had). Foreshadowed by the presence of trace experiences and stories that felt like odd distractions early-on, a new storyline involving cognitive dissonance and independence becomes the focus which unfortunately sidelines the compelling draw of the first half of the book. Though it’s still well connected to the theme of parasites and the appropriate title “Leech”, the abrupt focus to the narrator’s background and the servant boy Emile at times almost feels like a different book. I did like it overall and thought it was interesting enough, but the two stories felt disconnected and tonally separate when put together.

While exceptionally creative on paper and finding the ideas interesting, I found myself constantly struggling to continue this book almost entirely due to its presentation. The book is largely written in a historic 19th century style which works perfectly with the gothic feel and story it’s telling. The main problem with this approach is that initially Ennes constantly uses incredibly obscure vocabulary that hinders the flow of the story to near incomprehension unless this novel is read on an ereader with a built-in long-press dictionary (I read a hardcover copy and did not have this cushion). Between the poetic descriptions of the icy landscape, the unsettlingly detached narration style and the classic English phrasing, the writing itself is beautifully haunting without these word choices that muddy the reading experience. After the first 50 pages or so, the sentence structure and unusual vocabulary almost drop-off entirely, only returning occasionally in sporadic spurts. This results in the earlier passages coming off as forced or try-hard to me when most of the novel is written quite effectively with advanced, yet still understandable vocabulary. Besides the obscure word choice on top of a large number of original story-related terminology, the story frequently segues into moments I’ll refer to in this review for spoiler reasons as “visions”, that adds even more disruptions and confusion to the read. These visions are meant to foreshadow and set up the events in the final part of the story, but the manner in which they are incorporated are clunky at best, distracting and incoherent at worst. The novel also features many additional stories told by other characters, namely the Baker and the Priest, and while they provide more context and ambiance, they often feel like they’re blurring the trajectory of the story (especially during the early death investigation sequence).

I had previously mentioned that Leech has a lot of interesting ideas and concepts incorporated into its story, and normally I’m the type of reader that loves details and high-concept ambition. However, this one was even too much for me and I felt baffled by many random horror/fantasy elements are included in the story. There’s a fictional group of people that have tails and fur (for no narrative reason I can understand apart from being fetishized or the fur for helping them stay warm?), the aforementioned machinery punk bits that don’t really have any narrative purpose in the story, the Baroness who gives birth unusually to non-humans(?) that all the other characters just accept with no context, and creepy twins that have some sort of vague connection to supernatural powers or ghosts. This last one felt like an homage to The Shining or the common horror creepy twins trope but they had nothing to do with anything in the story. If you zoom out to the bigger picture, there’s references to Verdira’s mining contribution to the larger region and a governor looking to expand the territory, impoverished regions scavenging machine wrecks, murderous monsters in the countryside based on in-universe folklore, there is so much going on constantly. I found myself growing increasingly baffled by how disjointed and all over the place the numerous elements were. It felt to me like Ennes threw every fantasy and horror element that’s popular against the wall to see what stuck, and then tried to reverse engineer them into the pre-existing parasitic story.

While there’s an incredible amount of detail to certain areas of the world, crucially there’s bigger questions that go unanswered for me. What is the rock Verdira is mining? It sounds like fuel or industrial construction material yet the Baron’s son proceeds to cut it with a knife and eat it? What are the monsters in the forest and what is their connection to the tribal people like Emile? How did certain characters get machine parts or what exactly is Helene producing in the chateau? The narrator’s backstory involving the region south of Verdira introduces even more questions than it answers. All this to say, I found world-building to be all over the place and many narrative decisions to be baffling.

The one area that I felt was done well was the medical horror angle, interconnected cognitive understanding, and self-realization involving the Institute. Early chapters showcase different individuals having shared access to information and experiences presented yet again in a confusing manner; early understanding of this cognitive concept is imperative to make sense of what's going. The narrative purpose and mechanism used to achieve this shared cognitive state was conceptually fascinating. I found the Institute’s origin, purpose, and implications impressively creative, the bright spot in the back half of the book. Unfortunately the rest of section is surrounded by a character narrative that didn’t have enough of a proper setup to have the emotional landing it was likely shooting for and the entire dining room sequence other reviewers have commented on leading up to it truly felt like something out of a fever dream. The story tries to do so many different things and reaches in all different directions, but lacks the focus and finesse to do any of them well. And while I liked the open-ended conclusion, I found the novel’s choice to focus on the narrator and Emile’s backstories (Emile’s story in particular is almost cognitively discovered out of thin air) rather than the closure or resolution involving the principle parasite in Verdira, failing to address the premise’s advertised “battlefield of the body”. Yes, the ending does address what happened to the previous doctor, what the Institute is and where the Verdira parasite comes from, but much of the aftermath is just left hanging.

Despite being an entirely unique read that blends various horror and science fiction elements, ultimately I found myself more interested in Leech’s conceptual ideas than what was actually written. I can clearly tell there was a compelling story in there if certain elements were pared down, but numerous puzzling choices in the book’s presentation and direction make this a difficult book to, one understand and two, to enjoy reading. For readers looking for something different or creative, Leech might be an interesting choice. However, for the vast majority of readers, even those that like complex high-concept narratives like myself, the disjointed and confusing reading experience is too big of an issue for me to recommend this book to others.

 

 

 The debut novel of A. Rae Dunlap, The Resurrectionist is a well-rounded and cleverly crafted historical fiction story revolving around the field of anatomical study and body-snatching in the early 19th century Edinburgh. Despite the story's macabre content and its almost gothic-like visuals, The Resurrectionist is anything but depressing or grim and is surprisingly warm and animated (yeah, maybe not my best puns, I apologize). While the visual descriptions of the dead and anatomical parts may potentially be off-putting for squeamish readers, the novel doesn't unnecessarily dwell on it for shock value and is instead the focus is its entertaining and charming coming of age story. While listed officially as a historical fiction novel, The Resurrectionist is just as much a true crime retelling featuring many very real historic people woven in and around Dunlap's fictional ones. That being said, absolutely no knowledge of the source material is needed, I recommend not reading into it ahead of time as it may give away some spoilers to the story. In fact I was completely unaware of the novel's true crime angle for majority of my read and was floored when I discovered the connection near the book's conclusion and author's acknowledgements. The fact that so many other reviews for this book don't even mention the true crime element is a possible indicator that it was so well-incorporated, many didn't even realize it. That the novel also manages to have a compelling queer m/m romance (with all the traditional implications of the time period kept in-tact) on top of having fascinating and well-researched scientific references connected to its mystery storyline, it's a marvel how much Dunlap accomplishes in <350 pages. And to top it all off, the story is beautifully written and incorporates its various narrative elements effortlessly. 

One of the novel's biggest strengths is Dunlap's distinctive and consistently entertaining style of narration provided by the main character and young aspiring surgeon James Willoughby. Fully committing to its historical fiction angle and setting, the story's narration and dialogue are not only written using appropriate phrasing and mannerisms of the time, but also different social classes. Despite wishing to avoid being viewed as a "toff boy", the character narration is written with full commitment to James's aristocratic upbringing that serves as major plot elements for character growth. Consistently witty and lowkey quite funny, I was constantly entertained by Dunlap's storytelling, with even simple monotonous outings being interesting to read. Early chapters utilize the comedic fish out of water trope effectively, both in terms of James being out of his element from home and to adjusting to a more modest, urban life. While these early sections can be off-putting due to James's posh upbringing and obsession with grandeur, they're entirely in-character which was a highlight for me. However once Nye is introduced and their unorthodox arrangement of necessity turned partnership is established, the story really takes off and strikes the perfect tonal balance between partners in crime banter vs the macabre topics. The way the story is setup almost feels purposeful to comfort and encourage readers that might find the grisly elements off-putting before slowing transitioning into its more mystery thriller, historical true crime back-half. 

The historical true crime connection is hard to review and discuss without going into too much detail that would give away its story, but I found it compelling and very cleverly plotted. A lot of retold fictional true crime novels often struggle with balancing and working original character into the real historical events but the line separating Dunlap's original characters from her slight fictional portrayals of real people is indistinguishable. While certain real people's roles in the historical events are occasionally embellished or reworked for stronger narrative connections to James and Nye (both being fully original characters), a good deal of the source materials is kept fully in-tact. That being said, while it's evident that the the novel's true crime element was the starting point and the rest of the story was likely reverse engineered to fit around it, Dunlap's fictional coming of age story is actually more compelling than the true crime its based off of. The historical world-building around the anatomical scholastic community is very detailed and James's personal narrative is well-crafted, you almost forget about the nature of the crime and mystery going on, Dunlap's material is that good. 

Besides James's entertaining narration and reactions, the other big contributing factor to the novel's success is his relationship with Nye. Their partnership takes on a sort of Artful Dodger x Oliver Twist, except aged up to young adults and meshed with a Sherlock x Watson vibe in the back-half mystery part of the story. Their sparring banter slowly softens to comradery which felt like a callback to many of my favorite urban YA novels (Cornelia Funke's The Thief Lord particularly). However unlike many other novels that stop there as friends or cops out with queer coding, The Resurrectionist commits to it and goes exactly where the reader wants it to go. While the romance element serves more of an opportunity for character growth and added urgency rather than being the book's primary selling point (I would not classify this as a romance novel personally), it's seamlessly balanced with the other narrative elements. James and Nye's shifting relationship over the course of the story feels natural and while the romance angle is perhaps the most predictable element in the story, it's consistently a warm and sweet comforting hug through the chilly urban streets and back alley dealings. On top of that, the character growth for James is great and the story comes full circle by its ending, effectively concluding and delivering on James's self-proclamation in the prologue: 

Great plotting and story aside, from the get-go I was impressed by Dunlap's writing style which I found heightened the material that could easily be played for shock value or body horror (this novel is a lot of things but it is not horror). From the ash-covered gray streets of Edinburgh, to the descriptive yet somehow also beautiful descriptions of dissected or dismembered body parts, the writing is detailed and lyrical. Even when it comes to the romance that is entirely clean, the breakaways to things happening off-screen/page are tasteful and creative. I already touched on James's aristocratic background, but the variety of tones and mannerisms based on the different socio-economic classes are all appropriately varied, particularly James posh-sounding sister Edith. The phrasing felt very immersive to me, though I can also see some casual readers used to contemporary fiction finding the phrasing to be mildly difficult to follow. I've also seen some other reviews that criticize The Resurrectionist for being overwritten or slow which I don't agree with. The plotting and pacing is good and just when the story appears to drag, an appropriately timed developed kicks things back up.

If I had to nitpick anything with this novel it would perhaps preferring a bit more foreshadowing or incorporating the true crime storyline earlier as it feels like the story distinctively shifts in direction once it starts. And while I personally enjoyed James and Nye's relationship and the general plotting, the material and themes can feel a bit PG and juvenile at times. However neither takes away much from how fun, entertaining, and surprisingly wholesome the story can be. I loved pretty much everything The Resurrectionist was doing, especially it's occasionally dark morbid humor. While I acknowledge many elements of this novel were well catered to my personal tastes, I do think there's a lot to like and if given the chance, it's definitely more accessible than it seems based on its summary and marketing. Between the witty banter, the well-researched historical details, and seamless blending of genres, A. Rae Dunlap has left me impressed and I'm definitely looking forward to her future works!
 

Eleven Numbers is a loosely government political/espionage themed thriller involving mathematics and system passwords. Mathematics professor Nathan Tyler is recruited by the US Government to gain access to Russia’s weaponry system protected by encryption designed by a famed (and fictional for the story) Russian mathematician. Consisting of two layers of passcodes, one that has eleven possible numerical options, Tyler is tasked with determining which is the key.

Best known for his long-running Jack Reacher series, Lee Child is a veteran of crime thrillers and this short story has good pacing and is engaging to read. As a mathematician and an unorthodox character for a crime thriller, Eleven Numbers obviously lacks the action compared to Child’s other works but makes up for it with unexpected twists and more dialogue-focused “action”. One prominent plot twist flips the whole story on its head and made me want to go back and re-read the 2nd half of the short story to check for earlier signs of the surprise.

While the the mathematics angle is unique, I personally felt like the overall premise was a bit contrived due to its focus on a fictional numerical pattern; thought it was a real pattern related to the artist Kandinsky but there’s no relation besides having closely spelled names. I was a bit disappointed as I was expecting the story would narrow down those eleven possibilities using some kind of mathematic theory or utilizing Tyler’s academic background, but the math is mostly just for narrative flavor rather than a major plot element (partly expected unless Child researched or consulted with mathematicians). The story also dragged a bit in the first half where the systems and fictional math patterns were being discussed, mainly because Kandinsky’s Numbers didn’t have a clear explanation or system (though understandably skirted due to this being a short story). After the more intense second half of the story, I also found the ending to be rather anticlimactic despite it perfectly suiting the Tyler characterizations.

Overall Eleven Numbers is a quick read that’s decently written and entertaining enough. The narrative content and mathematic theme isn’t particularly developed given the short story format and the ending almost leaves things hanging similar to a tv-show pilot episode. However if you are already familiar with Lee Child’s work, this will likely be great popcorn-style entertainment. Or for readers new to his work, it’s a preview for fully developed novels.

This review is based on a complimentary ARC provided by Amazon Original Stories via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. 

 

The following review is based on a complimentary ARC provided by Amazon Original Stories via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. 

The Knight and the Butcherbird is an intriguing dark fantasy short story that tells a brief, yet compelling tale in a modern world where shapeshifting monsters or "demons" roam the forests and wastelands. Narrated by Shrike, the rural community's seventeen year old historian, the short story follows the arrival of legendary Knight who is summoned to the community to kill a demon that had been seen in the area. The only problem is the demon he's been summoned to kill is Shrike's wife May, a fellow villager who slowly transformed into a monster. Skillfully invoking a folklore/grimm fairytale vibe and incorporating dystopian and caste elements, The Knight and the Butcherbird is condensed yet imaginative and makes full use of its limited page counts to tell its satisfying and self-contained story. Featuring the Knight's story within the overall story, I found the focal plot twist involving the Knight's secret to be well done, with crucial clues subtlety presented within Shrike's stories. 

I previously read Harrow's full-length novel Starling House and while I had some reservations with it plot and story, the visuals and somber tone were notable highlights for me. Harrow's descriptive yet beautiful visuals are also showcased in this short story, with the community's rural forested setting portrayed with great detail and style. Harrow's visuals also carry over to the monsters/demons that are both descriptive for narrative purposes yet also abstract and vague enough to represent their shapeshifting nature. 

The one minor nitpick I had with the short story's execution was the decision to place the story in a modern setting. The rural community and the role of a "knight" suggests to me that the story has a generic historic fantasy or ambiguously timeless setting. However, it's revealed that the story actually takes place in a modern age due to the technology advancements and devices referenced as well as the community being located in the general proximity to Cincinnati. Additionally, a threat from the city late into the story sounds like a plan better suited for a classical or medieval tale vs one in a modern setting. While the odd disconnection with the setting doesn't really affect the enjoyability or immersive feel of the story, it did cause me the raise an eyebrow and re-read the first half of the story again for better context. Perhaps a mercenary, hunter, soldier, or other pronoun would've also sounded more fitting for the current time period, though even the rural community itself feels a bit out of place (unless this is an Amish village which is certainly not the case based on the culture of the community). Additionally I would've liked for the story to spend more time showing the reader the history and connection between Shrike and May to give the tense situation more emotional weight. However, I also acknowledge the limitations of the short story format and understand how the content needed to be prioritized with so few pages to work with. 

Coming in at around a quick thirty minute read, The Knight and the Butcherbird is a wonderful and satisfying fantasy short story that covers a lot of ground with its short length. Well-written, plotted, and concluding with a bittersweet yet satisfying ending, I found this to be a solid short story that hits all the right notes on top of Harrow's great visuals! 

 

Well known for his long-running series The Thursday Murder Club, We Solve Murders is the first entry in a new series featuring completely new characters, stories and themes. Despite the fresh start, in many ways We Solve Murders is quite similar in tone and style to The Thursday Murder Club as a light-hearted cozy murder mystery novel filled with subtle cheeky humor. I haven't read the subsequent books in The Thursday Murder Club series to compare to, but We Solve Murders feels like a more polished, refined, and focused novel that has a clearer direction for the kind of reading experience its trying to do. Unlike his past novels that were firmly in the cozy mystery territory, We Solve Murders crosses over into the thriller genre (on paper anyway) with elements of spies, mobs, hitmen, fraud, etc. That being said, I personally found We Solve Murders to be a bit overwritten and slow at times, and the characters/focal mystery felt a little underwhelming and too cozy for my personal taste. 

I previously commented in my review for The Thursday Murder Club that I enjoyed Osman's writing style and tone but felt the plotting and story was trying to do too much without fully connecting the dots and clues together. There were also so many different storylines that didn't always work well off each other, resulting in a rather convoluted and messy 2nd half. Fortunately, We Solve Murders is an huge improvement in that regard, featuring a much more focused story and straightforward plotting. The gist of the story is a personal bodyguard Amy Wheeler is on the run from various hitmen/people with her current client, best-selling author Rosie D'Antonio, along for the ride. To make matter worse, the personal security firm she works for has had several past clients murdered, all suspiciously connected back to Amy. On the run, she enlists the help of her father in-law Steven Wheeler who is a retired policeman to help her solve who's behind these murders. Despite featuring various locations around the world and a fairly large cast of characters, the story remains focused on the core mystery which has an exciting and comedic start when Amy is almost killed at Rosie's private island. The mystery is quite tightly plotted and all the possible suspects and clues are clearly in play for the duration of the book. 

Despite the focused narrative and compelling mystery premise, I found myself often wanting more from the novel and constantly wished that the mystery investigation and plot would move faster. Osman has a habit of overwriting which I previously did not mind in The Thursday Murder Club due to the senior shenanigans angle and its willingness to explore more nuanced topics like terminal illnesses, grief, and family. We Solve Murders has glimpses of this via Steven's recurring habit of speaking to his late wife via an old Dictaphone, but generally doesn't delve very deep into it, keeping the story casual and easygoing. However the lack of depth left the narrative writing a bit dry, turning into a lot of "he/she does this, thinks this, and wonders about this". I often wished that more of the characters' thoughts and ideas were written via dialogue rather than the 3rd person narrated descriptions or alternatively, would just get on with the story. 

The other issue I had with this novel is again with Osman's commitment to an ensemble cast perspective presentation. The story constantly shifts between perspectives every chapter often between the main characters Amy and Steve, but also to every other side character in the story. While this can be a benefit to fully immerse the reader across all the different parties and groups, similar to its use in The Thursday Murder Club, there are just too many perspectives and characters for the presentation to be effective. Side characters such as Felicity, Tom, and some of the "villains" felt redundant while Bonnie and Max Highfield's perspectives were entirely unnecessary (apart from making the reader feel bad for Bonnie), and their chapters often disrupted the momentum the story was building. Unlike The Thursday Murder Club, I found the characterizations to be quite shallow, generic and underdeveloped which made the ensemble perspective shifts seem less interesting and distinctive. Older characters generally had much better characterizations compared to middle-aged characters, which is not really surprising given Osman's previous work. For me, Amy and Steven didn't have very memorable or noteworthy personalities to begin with (particularly Amy), but they often felt like they were being sidelined and upstaged by the side characters or one-off minor ones (the border patrol agent at the airport was an absolute scene-stealer). I have a sneaking suspicion that this approach was used to try and expand the story as there really isn't very much plot or investigations to stretch across 400 pages, but it just felt like the pacing and story was dragging constantly. With some trimming and editing, a more condensed 300 page novel would've likely felt more appropriate. 

On the plus side, Osman's signature low-key humor that's equal parts silly and clever works wonders to carry the slower sections of the story. Unlike his previous novels that largely featured older characters who were tech illiterate, We Solve Murders does the opposite and fully incorporates social media trends and pop culture interests. From the focal crime mystery involving social media influencers to the the main villain using ChatGPT to cloak their narration in a "friendly English gentleman" style, this novel feels like a modernized and refined take vs Osman's previous works. The jokes and witty one-liners consistently land and the overall tone comes off as a light-hearted, bumbling around affair + guns. This is a great novel for readers that want a cozy fun read without heavy violence, suspense, or depictions of murders (despite the name, they mostly all happen vaguely off-screen). 

At the end of the day despite being the start of a new series, We Solve Murders is more or less the same style of the Thursday Murder Club and what you would expect from Richard Osman. Light-hearted, accessible, comical, and entirely cozy, the story and mystery is well-plotted and the general investigation is a notable improvement over what I've previously read in The Thursday Murder Club. Unfortunately it also carries over most of the same issues I had with Osman's previous novels of having too many characters and perspectives, unnecessarily slow and overwritten pacing, and a slight lack of urgency or narrative hook. I also generally prefer the Thursday Murder Club over We Solve Murders due to the more mature topics and themes it explores at the senior living community. However, I admit that the last point is more of a subjective personal taste item and I'm starting to realize that cozy reads are probably just not for me and I should stick to more intense stories, fans of cozy reads will likely enjoy this one a lot! 

I've read a lot of great and not so great book synopses, but the opening line of Sarah Winman's Tin Man describes the novel the best: "This is almost a love story. But it's not as simple as that." When interpreted at face value, Tin Man's story is just that, an emotional story of almost love and the complex relationship between Ellis and Michael. But the theme of love goes far beyond simple romantic love, and that is where this novel incredibly well-executed yet quiet reflections are their strongest. Love for a treasured friend, love for a family member (despite not being blood related), love as caregiver, love as safe haven, or as simple as comforting company. Bittersweet, moving and poignant matched with a gorgeously beautiful prose, Sarah Winman's Tin Man is a shorter yet wonderful read that I also loved and finished in one day. 

I honestly don't have much to say about Tin Man apart from how much I loved it and found it exceptional, but I will try anyway. It's difficult to review or write about this story as its quite meandering in its approach. Divided into two sections, one devoted to Ellis and the other Michael, the novel encompasses their childhood meeting, the growth in their relationship, and their separate walks through life and connections to each other, culminating in the summer of 1991. However that's not all there is to it. Ellis's perspective starts five years after that in 1996, alone without Michael and Annie while walking through life without purpose or emotion. The less that's known about the story the better the reading experience, but I thought it important to mention Ellis's isolation to highlight how excellent Winman portrays it. The emptiness, loneliness, and directionless feeling is written so beautifully quiet, yet is still captivating to read. As Ellis reflects on his life, often out of chronological order, the reader is given vignettes to his connections with Michael and Annie. 

While Ellis's perspective is already emotionally moving, the shift to Michael's story at the halfway mark is where Winman's writing hits even harder. Presented in the form of Michael's writings (which is not a typical journal), there's a clear distinctive shift in character voice, tone, and direction appropriately suiting how different he is from Ellis. The different form of presentation works perfectly, with Michael's writing filling in his years missing from Ellis's perspective as well as his reflections of earlier events already shown. Like Ellis's story, the content is deeply emotional yet beautifully written. This half of the story reminded me a lot of Tell the Wolves I'm Home's content material, without the YA angst associated with its main character. The two perspectives eventually converge in the summer of 1991, delivery a satisfying yet utterly heartbreaking conclusion, not to mention the epilogue-style resolution when the story returns to Ellis in 1996. 

Consistent throughout the entire novel is Winman's wonderfully beautiful prose that's thoughtful and purposefully reserved, letting the complexity of the characters' feelings to carry the story. While full of metaphors that are obviously well done (I was constantly highlighting passages in the ebook copy), what I particularly loved was how much is left unsaid. Heavy emotional outbursts or explicit descriptions of feelings are limited, which make them feel more believable and grounded. 

Her thoughtful exploration and portrayal of queer relationships of the time (or frankly even today in UK) feel spot-on, and the wistful reflection for both parties is heartbreaking. Despite what you would think based on the synopsis, Ellis and Annie's relationship is also well-developed and nuanced. But some of the best content and forms of love is left for Mabel, the supportive rock and home when all seems lost, and Ellis's mother Dorra. Yet despite the heavy content, Winman doesn't wallow in the sadness but instead channels that an almost hopeful or inspirational lasting impression. Apart from making me feel incredibly lonely when I finished the story, it inspires you to go out and cherish all of your loved ones while you still can, rather than regrettably letting life and years go. 

Featuring exceptional character work paired with beautiful writing, this is a quick read and solid recommendation for those looking for a dramatic emotional character story. The coming of age element and shared summer time memories in Paris even invokes the same feeling as the more well-known Call Me By Your Name but without some of its more questionable plot elements, clunky execution, and stilted character work. I was originally interested in Sarah Winman's more recent novel Still Life but decided to pick up Tin Man first based on a book influencer recommendation and due to its shorter length (I want to be in the right head space and a less crunched workload to be able to not rush through it). Reading Tin Man only solidified my excitement for Still Life which I will most definitely be reading later sometime this year. 

 

What if you stumble across odd coincidences between seemingly unrelated incidents and your brain starts working overtime in the background to try to make sense of these odd occurrences? Random connections abound, that is the concept and world of Terry Miles's novel Rabbits. Taking place in a realistically and authentically portrayed version of Seattle, Rabbits explores a mysterious hush hush game played in real-time that involves players following strange connections and coincidences that shape and alter the world and reality around them. A self-contained story taking place within the world of a 2017 pseudo-documentary podcast of the same name, no knowledge of the podcast is required to read and understand the novel, though it certainly enhances the read. Conceptually great and full of details and references that will make any internet junkie or video-game geek jump with glee (sorry the pun was too tempting), its actual execution is a bit of a mixed bag and one that many readers may find frustrating or disappointing to read. This is one of those novels that I appreciated the ambition and ideas while finding the actual reading experience less enjoyable. 

Easily the biggest highlight and strongest element of Rabbits is Terry Miles's attention to details, coincidences and pop culture. What sets this novel apart from others however is the content and references that heavily skew towards the gaming and internet geek communities and interests. With the story originating in a classic arcade and the main characters being gamers and online sleuths, the average casual "normie" reader may only pick up on a small handful of details. But for those millennial and younger, specifically those that comb through reddit communities/creepy pasta/online conspiracies/web or programming development, it's a field day! Classic video-game references, hidden levels, found footage, files hidden within files, that's only the start. With appearances by Jeff Goldblum, comparisons to Lisbeth Slander, .onion domain names, there is a very clear group of readers this novel is explicitly written for. 

Outside of its internet-favored collection of pop culture references, Rabbits takes places in a hyper-realistic version of Seattle. It may not mean much for those who have little knowledge of the area, but the movements of the characters around the cities locals (both well-known and niche local spots) is excellent. I went to a college near Seattle and I found the details exciting, particularly when unexpected connections or inconsistencies occur. From a closed Capitol Hill restaurant, to the famous two-stop only monorail line, to parks and record stores you would only find in Seattle's boho scene, the level of detail greatly enhances the kind-of-realistic speculative fiction flavor that Rabbits is going for. Like the video-game/media references, at times it can be hard to separate the real vs fictional entities in the novel which is a sign for how well-researched and designed its movements are. 

While purposely cagey and vague about the nature of the focal game and the general storyline of the novel, Rabbits also has fascinating ideas and ambitious mechanisms that drive the workings of its reality and world. Initially based on coincidences and connections, the story builds and incorporates concepts including the Mandela effect, deja vu, split/parallel realities, the butterfly effect, determination, etc. The implementation of these theories and other quantum physics are nothing new for the genre, but the manner in which they're applied to each other and all trace back to inherent patterns, I found to be quite unique and compelling. 

While the detail and writing are well-done, the actual reading experience left a lot to be desired for me, despite getting the references and being able to follow the unorthodox narrative. The setup of an urban game where players are mysteriously disappearing would suggest a mystery thriller while the reality-altering quantum science elements steer the story to a speculative fiction adventure. There are also elements of shadow/gray matter and gaps of memory loss that take on a psychological horror route with some graphic and disturbing found footage elements. Despite all of those possible directions, actually reading Rabbits unfortunately is quite slow, convoluted, and short on exciting moments; not to mention the actual "game" is a very loosely applied concept. I am the type of reader that can appreciate a slow-burn story as long as there's a gradual build and compelling hook, but Rabbits doesn't quite have either and feels like it mishandles its 400+ pages. Majority of the book involves K and friend Chloe running around Seattle and online chasing random clues and connections as they discover the game of Rabbits and its players. But in actuality, reading their story feels exactly that, random running around with sparse story developments sprinkled around. The plot of the novel is actually quite limited and Miles' approach to the story feels a lot like "throw everything against a wall, draw connections to each separate thing, and then explain the oddities away with mysterious intrigue". While there are definite important events that serves as turning points in the story, they feel few and far between the rest of the repetitive and mildly interesting, yet somewhat irrelevant discoveries. In my opinion this novel could've easily cut a hundred pages or connections and still functioned fine as-is or redirected those pages to expand its concluding action sequence. 

To make matters worse, the reveal of the game of Rabbits, the "villain", their motives, and the resolution are crammed together into the last thirty pages, full of reveals and developments that have little previous mentions or developments coming out of left field. While in theory all of the reveals make plausible sense and works with the abstract and non-committal ending / deeper meaning (other reviews that include heavier spoilers and post-read theories discuss these points far better and more detailed than I can here), its utterly baffling why so much is crammed together in an almost nonsensical presentation. Ordinarily this could be a bit more forgivable if there was a sequel novel that built off of Rabbits' conclusion or the developments were unveiled in an exciting conclusive manner. However Miles's sequel The Quiet Room is a separate unrelated story (despite Emily being the focal main character) and all the concluding reveals in Rabbits are merely explained to K and the reader in an anticlimactic and bland epilogue-style conversation. I wouldn't go as far as to say the ending is terrible or ruins the book, but it's quite an unsatisfying letdown to say the least. 

The other notable drawback for me is the characterizations and development. The main character K is intentionally written to be vague and gender-neutral (despite the audiobook narration suggesting and Terry Miles confirming K is female, making its couples canonically queer) which is a fine narrative choice, but K's character personality never quite surpasses the different and neurotypical pattern-obsessed character trope introduced initially. Some reviews criticize the lack of clear representation and missed opportunity for visibility, though I'm neutral on it and think that K's neutral presentation can serve as surrogate for the reader placing themselves in the story (within the context of one of the main theories surrounding its ending). The two other notable characters are K's friend Chloe who investigates Rabbits with her in the present day and a childhood friend Emily who she last saw years ago under unusual circumstances. Despite having a large cast of main and side female characters, nearly all of them have similar characterizations of being edgy, rebellious, and techy and likewise sound similar. Their relationships with K feel like they should be important but it feels like the story doesn't properly develop them. Additionally there is a romantic undercurrent to their interactions and moments of romance, but the chemistry is almost non-existent and things just happen out of the blue with little to justify any growth or change in their relationships. Worse, the story has a recurring trend of having K experience important reality-altering moments or important plot developments solo, followed by K repeatedly having to recap and clue in Chloe afterwards. It happens so often that it becomes obvious that Miles is pushing Chloe to be a major factor in K's life and the story without having contributing the right narrative material to do so believably. 

The cast of side characters in Rabbits is massive, yet similar to Chloe and Emily, their development or inclusion feel like missed opportunities. A large majority of these characters are introduced as part of newfound connections that K and Chloe follow, but there's so many and they have such short appearances that it limits their contribution to the story. As advertised in the synopsis, there are a few notable character deaths but some have such brief appearances or generic dialogue that their dramatic scenes don't have the impact that they should. There are also another handful of characters and different affiliated factions that are involved within the game of Rabbits, but they come and go vaguely with no explanation until the final thirty pages. Despite many having compelling first appearances and initial contributions to the story, their rushed and often off-hand reveals are quite a letdown (Alan Scarpio, Hazel, and Swan being the most notable examples). The villain orchestrating and bending the game of Rabbits also has an almost comical cliched reveal scene with a motive that had very little foreshadowing or set-up apart from one clunky reveal stated unceremoniously by another character. 

While reading the novel, I could easily see the conceptual elements that made the source podcast so popular. Unfortunately somewhere in the adaptation of the material to novel form didn't quite work, namely the storytelling experience and providing appropriately placed narrative hooks (the scattered and simple presentation works a lot better in its podcast audio documentary format). With a messily executed plot and lackluster character development, Rabbits biggest draw is its mysterious premise and the unexpected discoveries of small coincidences that connect together. But even that grows repetitive and the connections are likely to only appeal to readers heavily knowledgeable about dark web or geek culture. Because of its numerous drawbacks with its execution that affect the overall reading experience, Rabbits is a difficult book to recommend to others apart from niche and highly patient readers. And that's a real letdown as I appreciated how ambitiously crafted and detailed it is. I do think it's a unique novel that is fascinating at times and maybe worth a read, just go with very mild expectations.