jefferz's reviews
120 reviews

 

The following review is based on a complimentary ARC provided by Smith Publicity / Amble Press via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. 

For all the glitz, glamour, power and fortune the film and greater entertainment industry of Hollywood offered in the 1950's, it also served far more instances of lies, betrayals, pain, and in Mark B. Perry's historical fiction novel, heartbreak. Arriving with naturally good looks and big dreams of stardom, And Introducing Dexter Gaines chronicles Dan Root's life-changing meeting with Hollywood power couple Milford "Milly" Langen and Lillian Sinclair, his persona transformation into future leading man Dexter Gaines, and the harsh consequences that come with a life in the entertainment industry. Historically accurate (at least to my very limited knowledge of the Golden Age of Hollywood), dramatically narrated, and full of fun celebrity appearances, Perry's novel is a solid historical fiction entry paired with a heartbreaking and moving LGBTQ+/Queer storyline. Well plotted and paced, thematically strong, and executed in an entirely tasteful and classy manner (more on that shortly), I thoroughly enjoyed Perry's novel and found it to be a very well-rounded and satisfying read. 

Before getting into the actual review for And Introducing Dexter Gaines, there are a few important notes to highlight. This novel is an edited and retitled re-release of a previously self-published 2014 novel City of Whores. I am not familiar with this earlier iteration of the story but from what I've gathered from reading Perry's author blog and personal research, the narration was slightly tweaked and the novel renamed to its current title. After having read Perry's blog and his novel, it's entirely evident how much an appropriate publisher and marketing can make or break a book's appeal and sale. Apparently Perry's agent took discomfort with the graphic depictions of gay sex which was edited down, which oddly enough, probably would've better matched the novel's original title and pitch. However in its current paired down presentation, City of Whores feels entirely inappropriate for the the story that's essentially one of romantic heartbreak. While I understand the idea behind the eye-catching statement, I actually had reservations picking up this book to read having heard what its original title was. While I personally think Head Dancing in the Urban Idyll has a more romanticized whimsy compared to And Introducing Dexter Gaines, this republished title is worlds better than City of Whores. This is a really good, classy novel and that title does Perry's writing absolutely no favors. 

Now on to the actual review, I'll be the first to admit that historical fiction and Hollywood's Golden age are not areas that I'm hugely familiar with or naturally gravitate towards. That being said, it almost doesn't matter thanks to Perry's engaging storytelling and narration writing. Apart from the overall plot of Dexter Gaines's breakthrough in Hollywood and eventual drama and romance, the synopsis doesn't really reveal much about what actually happens in the story (in my opinion, partly to its detriment). However immediately from the get-go, the story takes off with a dramatic opening chapter with Dexter Gaines discovering famed Hollywood producer Milford Langen passed away in the present day (90's), then immediately jumping to New Years Eve 1951. Even with no knowledge of what where the story is going, Dexter Gaines is an easy and fun read. Trhough progressions covering the industry gatekeeping of Hollywood, to adjusting to life in Hollywood, to early film roles and entanglement with professionals, the novel is consistently interesting to read. While the prose is accessible and the story easy enough to follow, there's an underlying sense of quality and finesse evident everywhere. The writing has a perfect balance of narration/internal thoughts to spoken dialogue and the story never feels like its dragging or overwritten. Besides good pacing, I appreciated the gradual build in intensity and drama that sneaks up on you. Most of the novel consists of Dexter reflecting on how exciting his time with Lillian and Milly in the past, yet the advance knowledge that everything ultimately ends in disaster adds weight to some otherwise seemingly casual encounters. As the drama and conflicting feelings ramp up, the story's final 150 pages are completely compelling and the conclusion is satisfying and moving. 

Another area that I found particularly well-done is the portrayal of historic Hollywood and the film industry. From the visual descriptions of grandeur and wealth at Milly's estate, to the backlot 20th Century Studios, to the extravagant parties and hushed activities in the shadows, Perry really immerses the reader in the time period that's both slightly romanticized for nostalgic effect yet also entirely stark and realistic in the areas that matter to the story. It's hard to describe in words but there's an inherent sense of class that is layered into every chapter (I loved the descriptions and handling of copious amounts of smoking). An early chapter that features Dexter/Dan walking in on a closed door party of producers discussing the intrusion of the home television set and future TV network on film industry is a perfect example of how detailed the novel's historical elements are. 

The story is also full of celebrities that range from producers, to agents, to actors that all feel relatively well-represented and believable. Again this is not an area that I personally have a lot of knowledge in, for example having no experience with Tallulah Bankhead's work, but I've heard other readers praise and love her appearance in the story so I'll defer to others on that. Oddly enough, not knowing who majority of the celebrities are made it interesting whenever original fictional characters or productions are introduced in the story. While reading, I would frequently would Google names and movies to try and figure out who and what was original vs historic, Perry's fictional work is that good and seamless. 

As for the original characters, I personally found them to be engrossing to read about and follow. I've read a few other reviewers comment that the three focal characters are unlikable and full of themselves, but this is the entertainment industry and Hollywood, what do you expect? In a field that requires people to be physically beautiful and confident, that's just a mark of appropriate characterization. While the relationships and dynamics between Dexter, Milly and Lillian are the main focus of the story, they're all uniquely handled and quite interesting. Lillian perhaps has one of the more standard and expected characterization of the three, but the crucial chapters towards the end of the story more than make up for that. And although the story and the dual timeline perspective is all narrated from Dexter's point of view, Milly is a fascinating character to read about whose eventual funeral Dexter attends in the 1990's is tragic. Dexter's conflicted and shifting opinions of Milly over the course of the story (both in the past and present) feels natural, appropriate, and is just another element Perry nails. 

Besides the obvious film industry element, the bigger story element is the LGBTQ+/Queer storyline told within the constraints of the 1950's. As one can imagine, the 1950's were anything but kind to everything outside of the hetero-normative lifestyle. While reading the story, I will openly admit that I initially wondered if the novel was purposely mislabeled as queer for recent trending marketability considering there was almost no indication or notable content remotely queer. However having read the story, it is 100% there, it just takes some time to get to it at roughly the half-way mark. The delay and lack of queer content early-on is intentional by design, completely for narrative purposes and made its first appearance far more impactful. As one can expect for 1950's Hollywood, themes of forbidden longing, self-hatred, passion vs responsibility, and the fear of the press are all included and developed well. The book's synopsis (and to a lesser extent, my review) purposely don't go into too much detail to avoid giving away crucial plot developments, but what I can say is that Perry's portrayal of queer Hollywood and characters caught in personal dilemmas are excellent. The complications between the three focal characters, the studio industry, friends and strangers, it's really well done. The theme of "if only things were different" is powerfully used and the extent of how much Dexter, Milly, and Lillian's lives are affected by situations out of their control is immense. I would've never expected it based on the synopsis or going into the book at the beginning, but Milly and Lillian's end is heartbreaking and will resonate with any queer or marginalized group, particularly older ones who may unfortunately empathize with their grief and prospective "lost years". 

It's not really important to the story but I do feel the need to touch on it, as previously discussed with its old City of Whores title, there is adult sexual content but its very tastefully handled and placed. By extension, I also wouldn't necessarily call it spicy or steamy, but that is clearly not the intent or readership this novel is written for. I would say this is partly a romance-drama genre novel in the traditional sense of it having romantic feelings involved, not the contemporary romance style that is populated on booktok and trending lists. I also read a few other negative reviews, a choice ones being "too gay to be straight and too straight to be gay" that I found utterly laughable. To call this book too straight to be gay is missing the entire point of the story, the historical fiction framework of the 1950's, and entirely erasing the B and Q in LGBTQ+. I can also see this story resonating powerfully for queer readers who are not publicly out or those that do not fall identify as strictly "gay" (the horrors of being seen and self-hatred some characters experience can and will hit close to home). But even outside of the queer community there's a lot to like, particularly Lillian's complex relationships and emotional vs physical love and affection. 

As mentioned in my FTC disclaimer above, I received an ARC of this novel to read and review. Out of the ARC's I've reviewed so far, And Introducing Dexter Gaines might be one of the most pleasant surprises and a sleeper hit I ordinarily wouldn't have casually picked to read (and certainly not when it was titled City of Whores). While the republished version does improve considerably on the initial version, I do think that there are marketing elements that still don't represent the book as well as they could. The typography and font choice looks a bit unprofessional and cheaply tacked on and the synopsis details of "attempted murder, stardom/survival" feel like a misdirection towards a thriller or a constant Hollywood backstabbing tale (there is betrayal but it's not in the forefront focus). This is a quality, classy, effectively written and moving queer story that deserves attention and a read when it is publicly published. Expertly crafted and paced, complex and nuanced, and most of all engaging to read, I loved this novel and really have nothing bad to say about it. 

 

I will openly admit that I picked this up to read not because of the fantasy-flavored monster romance story, but out of gross curiosity as an env. science reader that enjoys reading about cryptozoology. While I do read romance novels, this is my first monster-themed romance novel and my first read by Lana Ferguson. Part spicy Scottish themed romance part magical realism fantasy tale, Under Loch and Key is an unusual novel that attempts to be a contemporary romance but also a more complex fantasy story involving curses, magic, Scottish folklore, and family secrets. I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of detail and effort put towards the latter elements, going far beyond what I was expecting and required for a straightforward monster romance. 

When I read Ferguson’s opening dedication “for granting me forgiveness for giving Nessie a penis”, I wasn’t expecting much given her past novels sat comfortably in standard romcom territory. Though I originally thought the Nessie premise would be a simple one-trick pony gimmick with light Scottish flourishes, I was pleasantly surprised by how far Ferguson took the concept and expanded it with proper detailed and compelling lore. Rather than simply giving Nessie Lachlan all the exciting fantasy powers, the same treatment was also given to Keyanna, courtesy of another one of Scotland’s folklore icons. Both characters and their associated families have lineages that go back to ancient times, including the focal curse and a mysteriously vague, predetermined fate presented in the form of a poem. The mysterious connection and conflict between the MacKays and Greers, along with the abandoned and torched Greer castle are elements that were far more detailed and involved than what I was expecting. Furthermore, the timing of these developments were perfectly placed right at the point where the will-they-or-won’t-they drama was starting to get stale, catching me off guard and getting me reinvested in the story. While the story’s genre is still primarily contemporary romance with a supernatural twist, these additions had enough presence to start crossing over into romantasy or folklore territory. 

Besides the unexpectedly good fantasy developments, Under Loch and Key’s other strength is the chemistry between Keyanna and Lachlan. Deftly using the tried and true spiky stranger enemies to lovers setup, Key and Lachland hit all the right snarky comedic moments and have good back and forth banter, especially in early interactions. Under Loch and Key routinely shifts back and forth each chapter between Key and Lachlan’s perspectives rapidly (as opposed to other books that will switch perspectives by whole parts of the novel) which adds a lot by allowing the reader to experience directly how ridiculously annoying (and charming) they are to each other. This is also a plus during the several steamy scenes where both perspectives are presented back to back with all the pleasure included. Speaking of those scenes, they are for sure spicy and certainly above average; having a monster inside you adds new meaning to “going feral”. There’s a particular scene involving a light partial transformation mid-action that's just chef’s kiss. 

The back and forth perspective is also useful when the inevitable miscommunication occurs to ramp up the drama in the back half of the story. While the their chemistry and relationship isn’t groundbreaking or unique, the Scottish setting and tone adds just enough to make it feel different and refreshing.  A good example of this which is Lachlan’s recurring sarcastic nickname for Key being “princess”. Ordinarily this is nothing special and is the norm for a romance novel, but when it’s mentally read with Lachlan’s Scottish accent, it’s somehow considerably funnier and just works well. Admittedly I did find that their relationship and banter was far less amusing and clever once they got together not because of the lack of tension, but due to the dialogue becoming more generic and forgettable. Speaking of accents and slang, there’s a good amount of slang and regional word choices included that clearly represent the setting well. I don’t have a lot of experience with Scottish culture and humor compared to British humor, but it seemed like a good attempt that isn’t too over the top or comedic. On a side note, there is an odd distinctive lack of Scottish slang and mannerisms in Lachlan's internal voice compared to his actual spoken dialogue. Beyond the dialogue, the characterizations across the board are decent enough. Each character fits the expected familial role with one two notable quirks, but isn’t anything particularly deep or moving. This is clearly a novel crafted and suited for easy casual readers. 

Beyond the two characters chemistry and the Greer curse, there’s also a recurring theme about home and family. Having recently lost her father, her only connection to Scotland, the story starts with Keyanna adrift looking to reconnect with the long lost family she never knew. Meanwhile Lachlan also lost his father a few years ago and has drifted apart from his mother, effectively also being alone without family. The theme about reconnecting with family and finding one’s “home” is another strong element that I also did not expect from this novel based on the marketing, and I was pleasantly surprised by how well it was executed upon Key’s arrival and meeting of her grandparents Rhona and Finlay. The slow acceptance and frosting of the initially chilly reception by her grandmother added nice depth to the story between the typical romcom hijinks. 

While I applaud all of the great ideas and themes that are included in the story, the actual execution is a bit of a mixed bag. My biggest point of criticism for this novel is the pacing and its length. While the spicy romance and steamy scenes are well done and the Scottish folklore is intriguing, there’s a lot of pages in-between that don’t contribute to either element and cause the story to drag in places. One of the biggest contributing factors is the excessive internal thoughts and monologues. Normally I love books that have extensive reflections and introspections between the plot and action, but I personally found a lot of this novel’s internal thoughts to be overwritten and repetitive. Most notable and glaring in the second half of the story, Key spends the whole time thinking different variations of “I need to save him” while Lachlan is fixated on “I must protect her from myself and can’t let her experience more loss”. The first half of the book worked well for me because there were different levels and thoughts ranging from annoyance, to confusion, being impressed and then unwillingly attracted. In the second half of the book, it becomes a cycle of the same monologue over and over (not to mention they’re not particularly insightful or exciting monologues). This is more noticeable since the novel already introduced so many other compelling ideas like the original Greer/McKay history, the logistics to Lachlan’s dad’s disappearance, exploration of Key’s powers and their origin, etc. Everytime Key or Lachlan would internally monologue, I constantly wished Ferguson would’ve chosen almost any other topic or idea to focus on. The dual-perspective exacerbates the problem twice fold when both main characters are repeating themselves constantly. The ebook version of this novel lists 415 pages but when you look at how much plot this story actually has and with its pacing issues, 300 pages would’ve been more appropriate. 

The other notable issue is that the spicy romance angle and the fantasy angle don’t always compliment each other. Most of the first half of the novel follows familiar spicy romance scenarios with added comedic banter. The writing often has a thirsty wandering eye which suits the romance storylines well. However, Under Loch and Key also has a tendency to go for long stretches of chapters that explore the family mysteries, Keyanna’s powers, the historical folklore, and then randomly out of the blue have Keyanna’s eyes visually undressing Lachlan. I get that this was meant to be a romance novel from the start, but the near complete lack of spice when the story is focusing on other elements is completely jarring. Some of the sex scenes make perfect sense with the tension and frustration well-placed, but others derail the momentum of the fantasy elements completely. On the flip side when viewed from the romance angle, I’d imagine the large stretches of little romance when the characters are investigating the mysteries would be dry, boring, and unappealing as they lack any hint of spice. This odd dichotomy creates an unfortunate issue where the sexy gazes cheapen the ambition of the fantasy elements while the added storylines detract and take time away from the romance. If the novel went further in either direction or the transitions between the two smoother, this would be a considerably stronger read and much higher rating. 

Outside of the clashing ambitions, the simplistic character drama and internal thoughts don’t help. While clearly an adult romance novel due to the graphic and detailed sex scenes, the execution of the character drama clearly has a YA feel to it. Lachlan and Key’s concerns are quite basic and the story has a habit of having huge overreactions that verge on comedic due to how dramatic they are for questionably set up moments. The plot and the “villain” are entirely predictable due to the foreshadowing having the finesse and subtlety of a blinding spotlight. The villain in particular was unintentionally hilarious to me by how corny and forced their grand reveal monologue feels (not to mention having canned and stock material motivations) and with some tweaks and greater ambition, this story probably could’ve worked without a true living villain. While not necessarily due to the prose, there’s also a constant feeling of casual contemporary fiction adequacy that’s just fine and good. 

Additionally the ending is a bit too happily ever after for my taste and the epilogue really didn’t add anything of value. I personally feel that the novel might’ve been stronger without the epilogue that doesn’t contain any important and is just irrelevant fluff.

Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think anyone cares or wanted to read about Key and Lachlan’s baby vs them just being a happy couple together, Lachlan’s parents reconciliation, or Key’s newfound life in Scotland (there's quick references to Lachlan wanting to settle down and start a family but they're so brief, it feels weird to have an epilogue centered around it). Scorcha quite literally just takes up pages with baby babbling and her display of powers actually creates more questions than it answers them. Why did Key not discover her powers until she was an adult vs her baby and having a Kelpie ancestor, biologically the kelpie genetics should get weaker and weaker each generation, not stronger. Unless the historic name grants her some extra bit of power, nothing about this epilogue makes sense or is satisfying to read.

 

While there’s some pretty notable drawbacks and a definite sense of missed opportunities, I thought Under Loch and Key was an above average crossover romance novel that was very close to being great. The ideas and concepts were there, which was way more developed and ambitious than you would expect when you hear the book is about a hot romance with a shape-shifting Loch Ness Monster. Although a bit slow in places, I was originally thinking of rating this a 4-4.5 but unfortunately the constant repeating monologues and the juvenile-esque tone of the second half knocked it down quite a bit. That being said, I am interested in reading some of Lana Furgerson’s other works that are more standard romance novels that likely won’t have a cross-genre disconnect. At the end of the day though, I definitely do not regret reading this novel and my cryptozoology curiosity has more than effectively been satisfied. 

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries is a curious case of a lot of great ideas implemented in a slow and laborious manner. Incorporating aspects of historical fiction, fantasy, light romance and folklore, the elements were there for what many positive reviewers have describe as a cozy and enchanting read. Unfortunately the narrative and tone was not for me and I alternated between struggling to stay interested in the story and being baffled at seemingly random lurches in unexpected directions.

The main highlight for me and the area Heather Fawcett was consistently strong in was the folklore aspect layered into the story. Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries is full of lengthy and detailed stories told by the villagers of Hrafnsvik, encounters with the Fair folk, and even recapped from Emily’s own research. These stories placed in self-contained chapters are often longer than non-folklore chapters given that the story is presented via Emily’s written journal, some entries being extremely short and uneventful. These stories all have some sort of theme that connects to whatever Emily is experiencing at the time, and the imaginative quality of these tales often surpasses the novel’s actual story itself (like modern Grimm fairy tales).

The interest within these stories is also heightened due to how slow, tedious, and bland the main story can be. This novel has an unfortunate tendency to flip flop between large stretches of quiet, humble rural living and exploration, then suddenly throwing the story into action with lack of transitions. The slower chapters can mostly be summarized as Emily bumbling around the rural village, struggling to do basic country living necessities, verbally sparring with her academic coworker Wendell Bambleby, and doing a bit of research in the field. I personally found these sections to be extremely slow, boring, and quite repetitive. Based on the book’s synopsis and Emily’s credentials as an expert in the study of faeries, I was disappointed in the low amount of actual research and scholastic work she does. Apart from one common fae she encounters near her cabin lodging and one unusual child in the village, Emily doesn’t actually do any research on her own and her only discoveries are all done through her own fumbling or them falling right into her lap. At times her scholastic background felt like it was only included as an explanation to why she’s so poor at social interactions (a tired and lazy academia trope in my opinion) and for her to pull out random fae tidbits and world-building points out of thin air, as opposed to these being incorporated organically into the story. This novel also follows that modern trend of using excessive footnotes that often include unnecessary detail or those that could’ve been written into the main text itself with slight editing.

In between the numerous slow chapters, the novel would suddenly break into more serious and action-based chapters that felt out of place in the otherwise simple story. Without giving away any major spoilers, Emily’s encounters with the “Hidden Ones” feels herky jerky and rushed, going from no knowledge and previous appearances, to throwing Emily right into the heart of a festival gathering and icy kingdom power struggle. While I appreciated the direction the story was going and the plot advancements that I felt were desperately needed, the transition seemed almost non-existent and each step in that direction felt increasingly random and baffling. I spent the majority of the last third of the book wondering why the rest of the book wasted its pages on random rural slice of life moments when it could’ve spent more time setting up its chilly and more ambitious High folk chapters. I suspect this lack of setup and abrupt shift contributes quite a few negative reviews that preferred the slow exploration chapters compared to the later kingdom-focused chapters. These chapters also felt incredibly rushed and the escalating conflict in the frozen forest just sort of ends in an abrupt and anti-climatic manner. The actions and resolution of the King at the novel’s end frankly doesn’t make sense and conflicts with his own motivations at the start of the sequence. A major threat to the village is also avoided simply by the villagers asking the fae to stop it who are notoriously difficult to appease. This felt like a copout and lazy way of just cutting short all of the novel’s loose ends.

Like the story, I thought the novel's characters were good on paper but the execution was also not to my taste. Emily’s character was incredibly off-putting to me but not due to her personality or scholastic morals. Beyond finding social interactions difficult, she repeatedly comes off as a stuck up know-it-all yet doesn’t display either book smart or field smart knowledge to back it up. The novel’s story is basically Emily making an absolute oaf of herself and offending everyone and everything around her, all while also being a bit of a damsel in distress city girl for the villagers or Bambleby to save her. For a character who is intended to be smart, she suffers from the stupid protagonist syndrome where the main character consistently makes the obvious worst choice repeatedly. And that can be excusable if the book demonstrated or showed how accomplished Emily can be when she’s in her element, but the only proof of that is Heather Fawcett repeatedly telling the reader she is an expert and professional rather than actually showing it much.

Popular, entitled, and pretty boy Bambleby felt better executed and more well-rounded, though a good deal of that could be chalked up to the added humor his presence brought. I was about to DNF this book fifty pages in and only kept going due to Bambleby’s introduction that added more energy to the story. Emily and Bambleby’s light bickering was another bright spot for me with a pretty good banter and their differences in morals to be interesting. Perhaps I should admit I also experienced a good deal of schadenfreude whenever Bambleby would drag Emily and make fun of her due to how unlikeable and unintelligent I found her. While I found their character chemistry to have good material to work with, the romance aspect also felt underdeveloped and rushed. Apart from slightly too long glances and a constant irritated fascination with his wavy blonde hair, there’s not a whole lot of romance in the story despite it being a main selling point of the novel. An unexpectedly dangerous encounter suddenly causes Emily to do a 180 on her feelings (both romantically and towards the folk and villagers) which felt jarring and poorly planned out. The entire romance subplot felt forced and rushed, making its intended implication during the frozen kingdom chapters all the more silly as the drama doesn’t feel earned. Characters outside of the two main characters were mostly forgettable, particularly the adult villagers who I often struggled to remember who was who due to having relatively similar names and similar characterizations.

At times, Fawcett’s visual imagery of Hrafnsvik and its frozen countryside was beautiful, especially when Emily is out in nature attempting to do a bit of research or when Emily first enters the land of the Hidden Ones. As previously mentioned, the folklore aspect and storytelling within those tales was compelling, something the main story could’ve used more of. Unfortunately outside of those two areas, the rest of the writing style and tone didn’t really work for me. The story consistently felt overwritten and unnecessarily indirect, as if to give the novel a scholastic edge considering the book is written from the perspective of Emily’s journal. The end result however felt overly wordy and tiring to read, with a great deal of focus on the mundane rather than plot elements or character growth. While I found the fae storyline to be decent when the book chose to focus on it, I felt like there simply wasn’t enough plot to justify a 300+ page book. The writing felt like it was constantly trying to pad its core plot with unnecessary fluff (what some have found to be cozy) when it could’ve instead addressed the plot crunch at the end of the book. The world-building also felt kind of sporadic and random with new elements being thrown out arbitrarily. I found it impressive how many different historic folklore stories and cultural elements Fawcett was able to incorporate in the Emily Wilde’s world, but the actual world of the High folk kingdom felt like it was being made up on the fly and I still have very little understanding of just what Cambridge or academia even knows about them. This will obviously be explored and built on in subsequent novels but the world-building within this book felt inadequate in the areas that count and excessive in details that have little to do with the story.

As a whole, Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries was a complete miss for me and a book I probably should’ve have DNF-ed if I wasn’t such a stubborn and persistent reader, but there’s a lot to like for those looking for a somewhat cozy read. The novel had all the right pieces but some unusual focal choices and the overwritten yet sparse story left me severely underwhelmed, resorting to skimming in places just to finish it. However on the bright side, I saw a lot of promising signs that the sequel novel Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands is heading in the right direction with more world-building and research (though any focus on Brambleby is a smart move), and the closing tale of the Golden Ravens in this book had more foreshadowing and interest than most of the rest of the novel. I will not be continuing this series but it sounds like it will become far more rewarding and developed (the synopsis of the recently announced 3rd novel sounds like the most interesting one yet!) but if you like slower-paced reads and fae-focused fantasy stories, let me know how it ends!

Cute, cozy, hints of the supernatural, and a habitual schemer, Happy Medium had a genius premise and all the elements of an amazing romantic dramedy. I had previously read Mrs. Nash’s Ashes so I had an idea of what I was getting into, and I had hoped that Sarah Adler’s sophomore novel would be able to improve on Nash’s disappointing and contrived climax/conclusion. Despite being paced more evenly and feeling more refined page to page, overall I found Happy Medium to suffer from similar issues of dumb character logic (2nd half only), melodrama that doesn’t have sufficient build-up (again 2nd half only), and a concluding plot twist that ruins most of its intriguing plot potential.

On the plus side, I quite enjoyed FMC Gretchen’s spiky personality and devious wit. Constantly trying to plan out her moves, both to convince Charlie that his farm is haunted and to safeguard her investment with her spirit medium client, I thought the first half of the book worked quite well; albeit feeling a bit slow for my taste. Although her sparring and enemies to friends to lovers arc with Charlie was good, her enemies to friends banter with the ghost Everett was the real highlight for me. Everett really steals the show and his plot threads involving his situation on the farm and his relationship to its owners was interesting to read. I would go as far to say my star rating would've been lower had Everett not been so silly and fun to read about.

Despite this book being classified as a contemporary romance novel, Everett’s light supernatural elements were more involved than I was expecting and were quite compelling! The curse involving the Waybill family, while comical at first, actually had a lot of promise. Assuming Gretchen was able to convince Charlie not to sell the farm, Everett’s future and potential end (or lack of end) could’ve gone in so many interesting directions. And then in the last one fourth of the book, everything falls apart with a poorly chosen plot twist and previously omitted detail to his curse. 

Mrs. Nash’s Ashes caught me off-guard with how fast things spiraled towards its end but at least I could tell what Alder was trying to do. My Happy Medium’s plot twist however, mildly offended me by how insulting it was to the reader. The drama and implications of the curse, Everett’s eternal haunting, the potential sacrifice Gretchen potentially made (questionable character logic aside that can be attributed to her internal doubts and demons), I didn’t know how the book was going to resolve such a great setup. I don’t know what I was expecting but it was certainly anything but what the book gave me. It’s a happily ever after, everything works out kind of resolution that feels so cheap, lazy, and a complete copout. The book said something about it being a got'cha moment, and I fully felt that got'cha reaction in all the wrong ways.

Besides the unfortunate ending note, Happy Medium was otherwise quite pleasant and steady. Gretchen and Charlie’s relationship progresses very slowly, as well as her plotting ways to prevent the farm from being sold. As the story changes from how to stop the sale to how to save the farm, Gretchen’s brainstorming of business ideas was great. I also really liked the parts where Gretchen was able to use her effective (albeit often misused) skills of social engineering and intuitiveness to improve the farm's business. Having worked directly with the food and agriculture industry at my day job, these business strategies were clever and real ideas that could work in practice. The humor was neither unhinged enough to make me laugh nor was it clever enough to entertain me, but it was decently written and executed. There were some great themes included such as seeing others as friends vs acquaintances, avoidance tactics encouraged by past abandonment, and the morality of lying for others’ benefit. A lot of these themes were introduced and initially handled well at first, only for Happy Medium then lack the finesse to pull them off. And that sentiment is almost verbatim what I also wrote in <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/6331766090" target="blank">Nash’s review.</a> Speaking of Mrs. Nash's Ashes, Hollis Hollenbeck has a very small cameo in Happy Medium if you read it before this one (it's a very small Easter egg reference however that's almost not worth mentioning).

Despite the unfortunate narrative choices made in the back half of the book, Happy Medium is indeed quite a happy and cozy read. Even at their worst, Gretchen and Charlie are charming enough to read about and Everett’s presence more than makes up for whenever the main plot’s interest starts to dip. It’s just a shame that Sarah Adler again cooked up a stellar premise that she couldn’t pull off yet again. While not quite as disappointing as Mrs. Nash’s Ashes questionable ending, there’s definitely a lot of other novels with a similar tone that I’d likely recommend over this one. Unless you have a thing for Goat Farms that is, and this is coming from a reader that actually does regulatory work with Goat Dairy Farms.

 Continuing my reading journey through Riley Sager’s novels (completely out of order I may add), Final Girls is Sager’s first published thriller though technically not his first written novel as Sager is a nom de plume for Todd Ritter who had previously written a trilogy series and standalone book. The final girl is a common trope in various forms of slasher/horror media but Sager’s novel is an uncommon story that focuses on what happens to that said final girl after they experience one of the most traumatic moments of their life. Final Girls answers that question with Quincy Carpenter, a baking blogger who has put that traumatic event behind her until another mass slaying survivor Sam arrives at her apartment building’s front door. This is my fourth Sager thriller novel that I’ve read and despite it being published years before the other Sager novels, it showcases very similar hallmarks to what people have come to expect from his stories. Unfortunately this novel also has the same drawback as his other works, namely a slow beginning and a well-written, albeit uneventful first half. However like his other works, the strong and intelligent female main characters, twists on familiar narratives and scenarios, and truly unpredictable surprises yet again make Final Girls ultimately worthwhile in the end.

While clearly intended and billed as a thriller, Final Girls is a Riley Sager novel through and through in that if feels like a restrained slow-burn vs a fast or high-intensity read. While the ending sequence is certainly quite thrilling and a definite page-turner, the first two thirds of the story read more like a contemporary fiction, drama read. After being introduced to the “Final Girls” moniker given to these three survivors, most of the first half explores how Quincy, Sam and Lisa opted to move forward with their lives and recovery. Quincy represents a survivor who wants nothing more than to move past the experience, avoiding the attention, and burying any lingering trauma through professional and societal success. Lisa takes a different approach, using her platform and spotlight to give a voice to other survivors and women in need of help. And then there’s Sam who disappears off the grid only to show up unexpectedly a decade later with a chip on her shoulder. While the novel’s primary mystery revolves about the events at Pine Cottage and Quincy’s lack of memories, those storylines take a back seat for the first half of the book which focuses on the survivor trauma Quincy and Sam experience. The discussion around the attention the incidents gave them, the survivors guilt, the turmoil of different emotions caused by their pain, it’s all intriguing material that’s very well-written. Quincy and Sam serve as great foils to each other, representing completely different responses and outlooks despite sharing a similar experience. The way Sager contrasts how different people can feel despite the media’s attempt to force a shared narrative and headline is great material for a contemporary fiction novel.

Unfortunately that doesn’t do as much for a mystery thriller, one of the biggest points that many other negative reviews highlight. All of Sager’s novels that I’ve read so far are generally considered slow-burns followed by crazy plot twists as the mystery unfolds, and how seemingly mundane scenes and details quickly show their importance. However, Final Girls’ pacing feels the most uneven of his novels I’ve read, and the “thriller” section feels like it comes in very late, nearly two thirds in when a certain discovery shift the direction of the story. Having previous knowledge of his works, I am more than patient and attentive knowing the read will be worth the wait, however other readers or those unfamiliar with Sager’s writing may not feel the same way. The first two thirds of the book is objectively good, but a very different flavor and pacing to what’s expected from this genre. Additionally the final plot twists and reveal are likewise placed very late in the book with only about 30 pages left for the reader to react and piece things back together. While I felt Finals Girls’ ending was more satisfying, decisive, and understandable than Home Before Dark, it definitely felt rushed compared to some of my other favorites of his and even had me mildly concerned when it looked like it end on a cliffhanger. Rest assured, it doesn’t and the book even has a short epilogue-style chapter to cleanly bring the story full-circle.

Fortunately the plot twists reveal and ending are dramatic and on-par with Sager’s usual, which is unpredictable and above average for the genre. One thing Sager does so well is controlling the deliberate direction the mystery clues and reveals lead, laying out certain details and perfectly choreographing where the readers’ suspicion is going. This being the fourth Sager novel I’ve read, I thought I had a good idea of where the reveal and missing flashbacks to the Pine Cottage were going. However as soon as the book started moving in the direction I was thinking, I knew I was off-track and falling for a deliberate and scripted false theory. I’m usually quite intuitive and can predict a lot of mystery thrillers culprits, but with Final Girls I’m now 0/4 to Sager. Similar to his other novels, this is another story that once completed, begs for a re-read in order to catch all the missed signs and clues on the first pass. Compared to other Sager novels I’ve read, Final Girls is solid, more believable and satisfying than Home Before Dark (published mid-way in his bibliography) but less so than his recent The Last One Left and Middle of the Night. Not only are the clues and signs set up better, they have far more consistent pacing and tone.

Like Sager’s other works, the characterizations, variety, and character logic do wonders at helping carry the novel’s slower sections. As is the norm for Sager, the main character Quincy is smart, ambitious, and despite having moments of panic and understandable emotional outbursts, has quite sound character logic that’s so often lacking in mystery thrillers. One subtle subjective note I had that I personally found very impressive was how much I could empathize with Quincy’s feelings in her disagreements with her public defender boyfriend Jeff. Besides sharing a wonderfully cool and iconic name (just kidding, I don’t think Jeff is a cool name at all), I typically prefer characters that are logical thinkers that don’t see issues as black and white compared to more emotionally-driven characters like Quincy. I usually gravitate towards the logical character but in this case Jeff’s decision-making and points in their disagreement left me siding with Quincy which is a testament to the quality of Sager’s writing and finesse at managing the reader’s experience. Both Quincy and Sam have layers of characterization that are peeled back as the novel progresses, and Quincy in particular goes through quite the transformation. Her slow descent into the parts of her lives she locked away and her coming to terms with who she has become is excellent. The last two chapters lasting impression and final lines are thematic solid while having a good edge to them (bad pun fully intended). Like other Sager novels, every prominent character has an important contribution and place in the novel, though in this one some of the minor supporting cast feel a touch underdeveloped or underutilized compared to others that use their cast of characters to the fullest. For example I would’ve loved if Quincy’s mom Sheila had more presence in the first half of the book (though she’s shut out from Quincy life so at least it makes sense narratively) and reversed, Jeff in the second half of the book. I originally predicted Jeff would have a major surprise reveal relating to either Quincy’s past or Lisa’s death and was surprised that he was pretty irrelevant to both.

I feel like I’ve written too many times in this review but to recap, Final Girls is a Riley Sager novel through and through. If you’ve liked any of his past works, Final Girls is likely to be one of his safer picks and is straightforward and doesn’t require as close attention as his other dual timeline works do. As Sager’s first mystery thriller novel under Sager’s publishing name (Ritter’s fourth published book overall), it’s also interesting to see how many of Sager’s signature writing trademarks and “bag of tricks” are clearly present nearly a decade ago. On the flip side for those that have tried and disliked other Sager books (except Survive the Night, his weakest), Final Girls is probably unlikely to change that opinion (my choice for that would be The Last One Left). For me personally, Final Girls is solidly in the middle of my ranking as a competently written and unique thriller, though you can tell it’s an early and less developed Sager novel that’s brought down by his same usual points, exhibited to a greater degree. Speaking of Sager novels though, I’ll be back soon very soon with With a Vengeance out soon, jumping from his oldest novel to his newest because I sometimes like a little bit of unnecessary chaos in my life-

There’s a reason that opposites attract is not only a common trope in media but also one that happens all the time in real life. Emily Henry’s People We Meet On Vacation runs with that theme and successfully pulls off the the deceptively difficult friends to lovers trope effectively. Of all of Emily Henry’s adult romance novel pairings, Poppy and Alex’s chemistry and dynamics might be my personal favorite that feels so natural, effortless, but most importantly, relatable. While People We Meet On Vacation‘s premise is more straightforward and less narratively ambitious compared to her other novels, the tone and vibe of the story is excellent, feeling warm and comforting throughout. Although the pacing and past vacation flashbacks occasionally dragged for me in places and this novel doesn’t hit the same dramatic highs as some of her other works, it’s still a well-rounded and solid read that has a lot going for it.

Of the common romance genres meet-cute/progression scenarios, I personally believe that friends to lovers is one of the most difficult scenarios to pull off well due to character growth and tricky chemistry needed to make the shift feel believable. Narratively speaking, there needs to either be a moment where the characters see each other in a different light, or there is some important reason that prevented a romantic interest from previously. People We Meet On Vacation smartly utilizes the latter scenario, which is the easier and more natural of the two. One of my personal pet peeves is when stories utilize a disaster, crisis, or some other cheap occurrence to bring friends together which feels like a relationship of opportunity, rather than one happening organically. Anyway, the novel also uses a split timeline approach with chapters alternating between Poppy’s present last ditch vacation proposition to Palm Springs and the previous twelve summers/vacations she and Alex spent leading up to this point. I found the split timeline approach to be a great narrative choice, introducing the reader to their random awkward meeting (no cliché meet-cute moment here) to their unlikely yet growing friendship. The alternative chapters also perfectly highlight the distance of their friendship in the present compared to the previous years, after a particular incident two years ago during their vacation in Croatia pushes them apart.

As the story progresses and their past summer vacations go by, the gradual growth in trust, support, and comfort between Poppy and Alex is subtle yet well done. Unlike some other romance novels, similar to what the vacations signify for them, it’s about the journey and the experience getting there, not the actual final destination that matters. I’ve previously had some issues with Henry’s other novels that used extensive flashbacks (Happy Place and bits of Beach Read) but had no major qualms with them used here. Most importantly unlike Happy Place, the bulk of the important character growth and details are in the past, initially masquerading under the guise of casual, random and fun impromptu summer vacations. The character work and change is very subtle when compared to the diverse locals and people they meet while on vacation, but that in itself is an indicator of Henry’s skill at blending light-hearted comedic chapters with substance hidden beneath it. Speaking of the vacations themselves, reading this novel in 2024 (I finished the last 30 pages running into 2025, oops) is fine but I can only imagine just how satisfying and hopeful it would’ve been reading it back when it was originally published in 2021, at the height of the Covid pandemic and traveling lockdown. Being able to travel and experience all these different locations and experiences through Poppy and Alex likely would’ve provided much needed escapism from the isolation and bleak future at the time. Combined with how comforting and relaxed they are as pseudo tour guides, there’s no question why this novel was so popular and beloved when it was released.

This type of story and premise lives and dies by its character’s dynamics and relationship (perfect counter-example is Henry’s Happy Place which was a misfire for me). Fortunately I loved both Poppy and Alex’s characterizations separately, and their relationship dynamics and chemistry together even more. Out of her five novels, Poppy and Alex is the only pairing whose relationship just clicks from the get-go (awkward meeting aside) and doesn’t rely on any drama, conflict, or angst hindering their connection (Daphne and Miles being the 2nd closest in Funny Story). Despite being so different at a superficial level, they are two people that just understand and see each other for who they truly are, and that is a magical thing that Henry nails with this pairing. Witty banter, excellent comedic timing, off-beat weird yet effective scenarios, these are all strengths that are expected from Henry but their ease and complimentary differences is great. A perfect showcase for this is the long and awkward car ride they share traveling back home after their first year at uni. Additionally, the prologue chapter displaying their contrasting back and forth rapid fire banter is one of the most amusing and perfectly-pitched introduction in a romance novel that I’ve read in a long time.

Individually, both Poppy and Alex are well-written as well and are two of my favorites of Henry. What I also found refreshing is that Henry does not over rely on past childhood trauma or the “I’m broken” trope (counter-example again is Happy Place using Sky’s background as a poor cushion for its conflict). It’s still there to a certain extent, but it’s incorporated tastefully and balanced well (one of my primary criticisms of Book Lovers abrupt shift towards the end). I also found it refreshing that Poppy and Alex’s professional careers are not heavily hinged on the book writing or publishing industry like most of Henry’s other novels. All her novels are loosely tied to the writing industry in some way (except Funny Story) and Poppy is no exception being a travel magazine writer and blogger. However the writing and book publishing element merely serves as a plot mechanism for Poppy’s travels and has less involvement in the main plot obviously compared to Beach Read, Book Lovers, Funny Story (a librarian is still book related), and the upcoming Great Big Beautiful Life.

While I enjoyed reading this novel, I did take a while to finish it compared to past Emily Henry novels that were typically fast binge reads. While part of that can be attributed to the holiday season rush with family, the rest of it is likely to do with the pacing of this book. Out of her five adult novels that I’ve read, People We Meet On Vacation is the first that I felt was paced a bit slow in places and maybe could’ve even been paired down a bit. A big part of the book’s premise is the twelve years and summers they spent and traveled together leading up to their current strained and distant relationship, but over time the summer flashbacks began to grow repetitive and stale at times. While the actual vacation destinations and experiences were varied, some of these chapters started to blend together narratively for me and perhaps could’ve benefited from either faster changes in their relationship or spacing out their “break” more.

The summer flashback chapters alternating between the present summer in Palm Springs also didn’t help once the present events and forced proximity shenanigans started ramping up. In general the Palm Springs chapters were shorter than the flashback chapters and I would’ve liked to see a bit more done with that (perhaps more dining experiences would’ve helped to break up repetition and serve as additional foreshadowing). An alternative option could’ve been to introduce Alex’s brother David’s wedding weekend events earlier in the story and had Poppy/Alex’s relationship shifts occur during the family get together rather than before it. The whole “this summer” plot felt a bit thin in general. Additionally, the main conflict during the present summer trip, Poppy’s self-discovery about her life aspirations, and Alex’s unaddressed worries felt like they were crunched within the last 40 pages of the book. Although these moments were not as emotionally impactful or insightful as some of her other works (Funny Story shows Henry’s improvement as a writer compared to her earlier novels), the actual content was still great and entirely relatable for a lot of millennial readers. The pacing was just rushed and Poppy’s post-vacation story and the ending as a whole could’ve easily expanded to double its length.

Speaking of the conflict and distant friendship, I knew that the story would have to utilize the miscommunication trope to a certain extent as that’s really the only logical way to separate a close-knit friendship barring some dramatic argument (see my thoughts on that previously above). Heavily foreshadowed in Poppy’s recollection of their past vacations as well as the constant references in the present, unfortunately I found the ill-fated Croatia vacation event to be a bit underwhelming. Although it makes perfect sense for the story, I would’ve liked the conflict to have been taken further. To go from calling and texting constantly to complete radio-silence is such a drastic change and while Henry’s plotting functionally works and makes sense, it still felt like a letdown when I read it. Perhaps possible subsequent failed conversations or actions after Croatia would’ve helped the strain feel more developed, though I acknowledge that the conflict as-is is one that no doubt happens in real life often.

Note: While it did not factor into my overall impression or rating of this book, I found the cover of the US Berkley edition of the book to be a bit baffling. On multiple occasions Henry clearly describes Alex as being very tall, broad with his signature floppy sandy blonde hair yet the cover portrays him as a dark brunette. On one hand I acknowledge that early leaks of Tom Blyth in Netflix’s upcoming movie looks a lot like the Alex’s design on Berkley’s cover which I have no problem with being an adaptation, but this cover predated the movie by four years and seems like a bizarre oversight unless Berkley did not want to blonde characters on the cover for whatever reason (then again, it’s not the first time a cover design is far off from the book’s contents). Additionally, the title People We Meet On Vacation doesn’t feel like a great match for the story except for the angle relating to Poppy’s experience with modern loneliness. The epilogue does a decent job of trying to tie the story back to the title, but the UK edition title You and Me On Vacation makes much more sense and represents the novel’s story way better. On top of that, Penguin UK’s cover design correctly has Alex as a sandy-haired blonde and has much clearer visual ties to Palm Springs compared to the generic noncommittal US design whose green spine can be misleading for somewhere tropical like the Caribbean or Hawaii (more than likely, a purposeful misdirection to sell more copies).

As a whole, I found this read to be a solid, well-rounded romcom story that falls comfortably into my expectations for an Emily Henry novel. Although many other readers rank this one low, I personally found People We Meet On Vacation to fall comfortably in the middle of Emily Henry book ranking. While the story is comfortable and doesn’t hit the narrative high’s and intriguing content of Beach Read nor does it have the finesse and confidence of Funny Store, it’s still well-written, entertaining, and full of quality that I find lacking in many trending booktok contemporary fiction/chick-lit genre books. Not only that, but Poppy and Alex are a new standard benchmark for the friends to lovers trope for me. And with that, this concludes my Emily Henry reading journey until Great Big Beautiful Life is out in April which I will surely be reading and reviewing. 

Taking the reader back to the English countryside through the eyes of a seven year old boy, Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean At the End of the Lane is an intriguing short novel that I’ve heard such strong opinions and feelings about. Part pseudo Grimm fairy tale, part dark fantasy escapism, Gaiman’s story reads almost like a fictional memoir as its unnamed adult narrator recalls a dark and strained period of his childhood. Much like how time bends and distorts events based on how they’re remembered, so too does the story as the narrator is faced with magical and otherworldly beings in the quiet English countryside. Perhaps the hype set too high an expectation or my impression of the book’s direction was misguided from the get-go (the plot was not what I was expecting), but I found myself wanting to like this book a lot more than I actually did. Despite finding the ambition respectable, I often felt mildly frustrated with the plot not connecting and was left feeling like it ultimately didn’t amount to much in the end. The presentation and writing was great but the actual content felt too abstract and random to leave much of an impression for me.

The main highlight of the novel is Gaiman’s effective juxtaposition of how events or people are seen and interpreted between children and adults. Starting with the narrator and his father’s discovery of a man who committed suicide in their stolen car, the story gradually leans towards a fantasy angle involving magic, monsters, and other worlds. Due to his young age as well as how much time has passed since the events occurred, you’re left wondering how much of the story was real (if any at all) or how much was a child’s imagination running wild while scared. I enjoyed reading this book from a critical reading standpoint (to a point), attempting to analyze and interpret how these different occurrences could’ve happened if they were instead experienced by an adult.

The prose is mostly functional and not overly lyrical, but has a frank, matter of fact character voice that I like that is occasionally quite poetic. I’ve seen a bunch of reviews criticizing that the narrator’s character is bland and the weakest element of the story. However, I personally thought it was well done and captured the nature of an introverted, book-loving shy child which served as a good foil to “neighbor” Lettie’s vibrance or really all of the Hemstock family’s contrasting dynamics. The prologue chapter featuring the narrator as a middle-aged adult perfectly sets the simple, yet reflective tone and is the hook that got me excited for the impending and highlighted darkness and commentary on what makes us human.

Unfortunately as the story progressed, I increasingly felt like I wasn’t going to get that. Perhaps I have darker standards than the norm or expected far worse based on reviews mentioning child abuse/neglect angle, but there’s really only one notable scene involving child abuse/violence and rest being familial discourse and drama. As the tense atmosphere grows, the story leans heavier into fantasy elements that feel sporadic and random. On one hand I understand that Gaiman is trying to capture the wild imagination and mind of a child. However the story leans into the unexplainable otherworldly angle so hard that I found it increasingly difficult to follow where the plot and themes were going. I previously reviewed Kazuo Ishiguro’s Klara and the Sun which was another novel that highlighted dark parental topics through the eyes of a child which I found very effective so I’m not against the concept, but the execution of this one felt messy and unfocused.

The metaphorical symbolism of what the narrator experienced grew fainter and fainter, particularly in the second half of the book when Lettie confronts the main antagonist of the story. The sequence felt unnecessarily drawn out (particularly everything involving the varmites after) to stretch the story out of the novella category and to add a call back to the book’s title. In my opinion, that entire run of 40 pages could’ve been cut entirely and all of the narrator’s great internalized fears manifested into reality could’ve been reworked into the confrontation with the main antagonist. And to be sure there were some great quotes, but they felt like a series of beautiful vignettes that were moving on their own while messy and vague when strung together. As the last few chapters ended, I was left baffled thinking “well that was something I guess”.

Despite being well-written and conceptually interesting, I felt like I missed something both from an emotional angle and a literary analysis angle. What started off tonally solid just grew more outlandish and abstract as it progressed and there’s frankly some very strange and bizarre choices that almost seem comedic, in direct contrast to the tone this book is going for. This is my first real Neil Gaiman read (I loved watching the adaptation of Good Omens and the very little I read of American gods years ago) and I can tell that nearly all my personal nitpicks with The Ocean At the End of the Lane has to do with the story and ideas, not Gaiman’s actual writing or style. Case and point, I loved the prologue and epilogue more than the rest of the book. My overall impression is that the book was quite messy and jarring, which somewhat makes sense after reading Gaiman’s acknowledgements covering the novel’s origin of a short story that was reworked and expanded to be a novel; the original short story synopsis sounded like it would’ve been much more to my taste with less distracting elements.

 Part speculative fiction, part Asian American character drama, Jinwoo Chong’s debut novel Flux is an incredibly complex story filled to the brim with incredible character work details. Despite being billed as a science fiction/time-travel associated story, the sci-fi elements largely take a back seat to Chong’s frank and startlingly good exploration of topics including biracial cultural identity, queer labels, the power of image, Asian portrayals in media, and the ever present theme of guilt. A unique blend of genres, this is easily one of the most ambitiously written novels I’ve read this year while simultaneously being one of the most difficult novels to recommend to others due to how tricky and alienating its presentation can be. While I found it to be an amazing and fascinating read, I acknowledge I’m also the exact match for the type of reader this book is clearly suited for; one that is a critical reader fully immersed in the story, reading between lines.

One of the primary reasons why I believe Flux has such polarizing reviews is due to the complexity of its plot and characters on top of the abstract presentation of the focal company, Flux. Presented from the perspectives of three individuals clearly from different years, the stories have zero hand-holding for the reader and forces you to to keep track of each narrative and characters that have seemingly nothing in common. I’m not going to recap what’s already discussed in the book’s synopsis but of the three characters, Brandon’s perspective makes up the bulk of the story initially. All three stories are incredibly detailed and my brain was both fascinated and sometimes struggled to process all that was happening, which is mostly character and family-centered drama. I am the type of reader that loves and craves complex and high-concept novels so this wasn’t necessarily a problem, but I can easily see the vast majority of readers not making it past the first 50-60 pages and finding many parts slow.

To make matters more interesting, Brandon’s storyline is very unapologetically queer but not in the typical rainbow colored or prideful “yas” manner. The character voice and reactions are entirely millennial and the social commentary is absolutely cutting, more than enough to alienate younger genz/alpha and older readers. His storyline also incorporates elements of being biracial and the complexities of being Asian American on top of being unlabeled yet clearly queer. While I personally felt completely (and at times quite uncomfortably) seen by this novel, I often wondered and worried how the story and content would land with readers outside of these specific groups that I so happen to be in. Pop culture references (RIP twitter), generational ideology, even subtle jabs at ethnic white knighting and being entirely politically correct further cement Flux’s millennial flavor and views.

A good portion of the book also heavily focuses on an in-universe 80’s police cop television show called Raiders. Brandon’s entire story is written in 2nd person directed to the main character of this television show which is an incredibly unique concept. Being from the 80’s, Raiders features intentionally questionable Asian stereotypes but also provides representation, areas that Flux heavily comments and reflects on. The sheer level of detail in Raiders, it’s individual ep storylines, the shift in its production, controversies surrounding it’s main actor, its lasting impact the show has on Bo and Brandon, it is incredible. And Raiders isn’t even the plot’s main focus.

When it comes to Flux’s science fiction angle, the mechanics and speculative fiction elements are quite vague and involve the concept of vast bioenergy that has unexpected effects. Flux’s entire being, its fall from grace, and its founder are unmistakably inspired by Elizabeth Holmes and Theranos, albeit in an entirely different industry and field. While elements of time travel and realities are important aspects, they feel more of a plot mechanism to facilitate and connect the events between the three storylines; the “what then” is more important than the “how”. While the concepts behind Flux’s sci fi elements made sense and were completely functional, I felt that they were playing the supporting act to Chong’s intense and emotional familial drama which was stellar (particularly impressive since familial drama is not one of my preferred reading genres/interests).

As I progressed through the book, I progressively felt like the science fiction elements were unevenly distributed, its first 150 pages in particular. While I have nothing bad to say once the book hits the 70% mark, its first third felt oddly lacking in this area and while the content was excellent, the read felt slow and unfocused. Part of this may be attributed to the book’s synopsis of a neo-noir, time-traveling story to cover murder. While not necessarily wrong, I felt that the synopsis is a poor representation of the book’s tone and focus (though admittedly, this is a very difficult book to write a synopsis for without giving away spoilers). Having completed the book, I acknowledge that its initially slower pacing is completely by design. I was in complete awe at how every scene across all three characters was connected and free of any obvious plot holes. However to get the full impact of the book’s plot twist at the two thirds mark when it pulls a move reminiscent of Inception, the reader is required to have paid full attention through the copious amounts of slice of life and familial drama. The emotional payoff in Blue’s (and to a lesser extent Brandon’s) final chapters is stunning. I’m also a sucker for quiet toned epilogue chapters, and the book’s ending was exactly what I wanted. Yet, I have a growing suspicion that the vast majority of potential readers will never be able to appreciate it due to how difficult the preceding content is to follow.

Despite how fully realized and deep Flux’s three characters and storylines are, the sheer amount of details is also my biggest nitpick with Flux (primary reason for a 4.5 rating bumped down). Between the fictional 80’s show Raiders itself, the real-life cast and production behind the show, Brandon’s recruitment into the company Flux, Flux’s core purpose and technology, exploration of tragedy and grief tearing people apart, self identity and culture, there is so much going on and I found myself often wondering if all of these details are important and crucial to Flux’s main story. While the vast majority of the details are, I often felt like the sheer scope of Flux’s ambitions was getting away at times. There was so much content about Raiders’ storyline and episodes, and while they were very detailed and realistic, it sometimes felt like it was too much or irrelevant. Every episode or scene in Raiders has a direct relation to something that affects Bo, Brandon or Blue, however I often felt like a lot less would have still gotten the job done while avoiding losing or confusing more casual readers. Brandon’s day to day movements during his employment at Flux also felt like they were occasionally veering into unnecessary territory, particularly some of Brandon’s almost sexual romps. Again, I personally did not mind them particularly due to Chong’s critical underlying social commentary plus queer representation, but I’ve seen other reviewers criticize these scenes for being crude or vulgar when taken at face value (I do not personally agree, and found a particular review that went off about how no gay man drinks that much milk to be hilariously terrible).

Flux’s science fiction’s element also felt like it was executed in a manner that made it difficult for casual readers to follow or stay invested in due to the plotting and pacing. Most of the book’s storyline has minor intentional inconsistencies that serve as the hook to the book’s time and reality altering climax, but they’re sometimes subtle and easy to overlook (this one begs to be read more than once). Compared to the amount of character drama and grief that is somewhat separate from the science fiction angle, the balance felt a bit off and at times, you could almost forget the science fiction elements exist. Once Flux’s, well, Flux kicks in, it’s relentless and is easy to become lost. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I couldn't help but wish the science fiction angle somehow couldn’t be spaced more evenly while still maintaining its Inception/Matrix moment; I loved the way a particular world-glitching scene is written with the stuttering dialogue and scenes recap.

If it wasn’t already evident, I personally loved Flux but fully realize that I am part of a very narrow niche group of readers that are able to fully appreciate everything it accomplishes. The character work and representation is excellent and more importantly, has completely different things to say and comment on compared to many other books or media that tackle similar topics. The characters are fully realized, complex, and heavily flawed, the area that Flux excels the most in. It’s just a shame that I feel very few readers will also experience Flux fully due to how complex it is to follow and how tricky its presentation and flavor can be. The sometimes unfocused scope of details and the science fiction element running a bit wide are perhaps small signs of Flux being a debut novel, however I am very impressed by the quality of Chong’s writing and sky high ambition and am eagerly looking forward to his upcoming novel I Leave It Up to You. I always feel a bit awkward mentioning that I generally am less interested in reading about familial drama and Asian American experiences (despite being Asian American myself), but the fact that Chong was able to get me so invested in both topics within his excellent writing is a huge accomplishment. 

The above review is based on a complimentary copy for review purposes provided by Melville House Publishing via Netgalley, thanks for the reviewing opportunity.

The second entry in T. Kingfisher’s Sworn Soldier series, What Feasts At Night is another atmospheric novella that prioritizes its foreboding tone paired with its vaguely historic 19th century setting. Unlike What Moves the Dead> which was a modern retelling of the classic short poem the Fall of the House of Usher, What Feasts At Night is an original story set in the overgrown woods of the fictional country of Gallacia involving a local superstition in the area affecting Alex Easton’s inherited hunting lodge. While the general tone is carried over from the first novella, the actual plot felt considerably slower paced and lacked the tense buildup that I previously reviewed and appreciated. The “horror” elements were also quite brief and left me a bit underwhelmed despite the appropriately balanced prose and Easton’s signature sarcastic soldier humor.

Carrying over majority of Kingfisher’s original cast characters outside of Edgar Allen Poe’s (with the exception of Dr. Denton who is apparently featured as a main character in the upcoming 3rd novella due to be published next year), What Feasts At Night benefits from all of the exposition and Gallacia world-building that was previously introduced in the first book. I had previously critiqued how the first book’s start felt too slow due to the numerous tangents referencing Easton’s home country that felt irrelevant to that book’s story. However, with all of the exposition previously covered, it allows this book to start with its own story from the get-go, immediately establishing the quiet and eerie ambiance attributed to the lodge’s remote and isolated location. Like What Moves the Dead, this story also has unsettling “horror” elements that are explored using a fairly grounded approach, with science and superstitions that feel appropriate for the time period. This shared the same strengths of the first book with Easton’s character/no-nonsense narration (always appreciated vs the typical over-reactive horror protagonist), humor, and immersive storytelling.

Unlike the first entry, this one didn’t have source material to work off of and while I found the story to be generally well done, I felt that this one was a bit overwritten for its fairly sparse plot. As colorful and well thought out Kingfisher’s details of Gallacia were, I constantly wished that the book would focus on the core story as the pacing felt quite slow and unfocused for two thirds of the book. There’s a good deal of “In Gallacia, we do this, we do that, etc etc” which unfortunately started to get repetitive for me. However, I suspect that there wouldn't have been enough content and story to pad out the full novella length without the added embellishments. That being said, although I personally was less invested in Gallacia and Easton’s sworn soldier plot threads compared to the horror angle, other readers might find the material more interesting. Unlike the first book that quickly foreshadows the spooky entity and situation at play, this one doesn’t mention its focal hallmark until 50 pages in, then their first full appearance at page 88. Normally I’m all for slow burn stories but when the entire book is only 147 pages (for the hardcover first edition), I need a stronger hook or more foreshadowing.

My other biggest gripe that other reviewers have previously commented on is despite being listed as a horror novella crossing over with fantasy, there’s really only about 30 pages of true horror content that occurs in one condensed sequence. Compared to What Moves the Dead’s more consistent horror distribution and pacing, this one felt imbalanced and end-heavy. The rest of the book mostly pushes a sedatephobia angle (silence) and cultural superstition that left me a bit underwhelmed and uninterested from a horror-standpoint. What Moves the Dead also had a good amount of gothic flavor due to Poe’s original decrepit estate setting and base characters that heightened Kingfisher’s original ideas, flavor that I found to be notably lacking in this story. I also felt that while the cover & jacket art design and title was stylistically a perfect compliment to the first book, they felt like poor representations of the book’s content. Without going into too much details and spoilers, “Feasting at night” sort of makes sense in a liberal abstraction interpretation but the eroding horse reference on the cover was such a very brief scene in this book that wasn’t particularly relevant compared to how noteworthy the rabbits and mushrooms were in their book’s plot.

Overall I thought Kingfisher’s followup to the solid first Sworn Soldier entry was well-written, though it definitely left me quite underwhelmed and wanting more at its conclusion. It’s hard to compared the two books since the first one utilized famous, critically-acclaimed material as its base vs this one that was fully original, so I’m definitely willing to give her upcoming third entry a shot; an added bonus is a foreboding abandoned mine is a much more interesting setting to me than a rural hunting lodge. I think this novella is ultimately worth a read for those looking for slightly eerie vibes with late 19th century embellishments. However, for mainstream horror or more intense reads, I would probably recommend looking elsewhere.

The following review is based on a complimentary ARC provided by Sourcebooks Landmark via Netgalley, thanks for the reviewing opportunity.

Part unsolved crime journalism, part familial teenage drama, Julie Clark’s The Ghostwriter is a split perspective thriller featuring storytelling within storytelling. Slow and meticulously paced, this novel follows author Olivia Dumont who is forced to confront her past and her family’s dark history when she accepts a ghostwriting job for her own father Vincent Taylor, a popular and famous author whose life is haunted by accusations that he murdered his two siblings fifty years ago. Featuring a well planned out (and at times tragic) story full of twists and surprises, The Ghostwriter is an engrossing read that transports the reader back to the 1970’s. While subjectively some of the familial drama and teenage sibling quarreling wasn’t my preferred genre or content, I still found Clark’s novel to be well-constructed, complex, and an interesting read.

Alternating back and forth between Olivia’s interviews with Vincent retelling events from his youth and the first-person perspective experiences of several characters in the 1970’s, The Ghostwriter has a lot of different plot elements carefully woven together. Despite being recapped out of chronological order and often out of context, the story and plot are easy enough to follow and start in familiar, well-covered territory. Thrillers utilizing a writer recapping past horrific events seems to be growing into its own trope as of late but Clark’s novel sets itself apart from the rest through its visual portrayal of Ojai, California in the 1970’s as well as its engrossing storytelling. Within the novel itself, Olivia acknowledges how good of a storyteller her father is and I fully concur. Vincent’s (and via his narration, Clark’s) tone in the early interviews with his daughter Olivia were a highlight for me and I found the first half of the book to be a page-turner. The pacing, balance of exposition and visual details, the small town valley feel of Ojai, I loved it. Vincent’s oral recaps to Olivia are followed by his experiences written in first-person perspective as they occur in real-time in the 70’s. These experiences initially are exclusive to Vincent but eventually grow to also include Danny and Poppy, Vincent’s two siblings that were murdered. Clark uses the unreliable narrator perfectly, adding layers to Vincent’s story as well as purposefully muddying the details. Olivia questions whether what she’s told is true or a lie, whether her father’s deteriorating mental cognition is at play, or if he misinterpreted what he experienced. As Danny and Poppy’s perspectives are added and as Olivia investigates further in the present, the details and timelines increasingly conflict and nothing makes sense (completely by design).

As the book transitions into its 2nd half, the focus starts to shift more heavily towards the past and the family/friend dynamics in Ojai. Dysfunctional, unhealthy, and full of miscommunication, the back half of the book and events in the 1970’s consists almost entirely of relationship drama, teenage angst, and conflict. While the content was elaborate, well-written and narratively quite strong, familial drama isn’t my cup of tea and I found my interest waning despite the strong narrative developments (I picked this is up based on my interest in the unreliable narrator and crime investigation aspect, the teenage familial relationship emphasis wasn’t prominently mentioned in the synopsis). The second half of the book also features Olivia doing more traditional investigating via remaining living Ojai residents which I found to be less engaging and more typical for the thriller genre compared to Vincent’s great storytelling. This section of the book also has more of a focus on Olivia herself with her partner Tom, her estrangement with both of her parents, and the damage to her literary career, content that is objectively good but unfortunately wasn’t as interesting to me. The book also doesn’t reveal the most crucial plot twists until the last 40 pages or so (this last section recapturing the page-turning interest of the first half of the book) but when it does, it’s quite satisfying. The book’s conclusion and reveal of what Olivia ultimately believes happened, I thought was well done and though I fully guessed the ending and the plot twist reveals (a mix of well-placed clues/foreshadowing and my familiarity with crime procedurals), I can see many readers being caught off guard by the true events that happened on that unfortunate June 1975 evening.

While the overall story is well written and conceptualized, I felt the book slightly suffered from the unlikable character syndrome apart from Poppy who has all the heart and soul in the book. Clark’s characters are deeply flawed and many are quite judgmental (apart from Olivia, consistent with the socio political atmosphere of the time), which can make them both interesting to read about yet somewhat difficult to like (I found myself often at odds with Olivia’s choices and mentality personally). However, the characters have layers to them and are eventually revealed to all be dealing with their own demons internally.

While Olivia and the main Taylor siblings are well covered, I would’ve liked to see more character development for Lydia due to her prominent connection to the murders in the past and to Olivia in the present. The Ghostwriter portrays each of the Taylors as their dynamics and relationships change, often exacerbating the stress of each other. However, the story largely omitted Lydia’s personality early in the story, lacking the basis to show how her character was affected over the course of the book's events. Compared to other characters that have more moments and attention, the reader is simply told how different she was prior to the events in the 70's. The lack of focus on her character also affected the impact of Olivia’s discoveries of her in the present and the book never really explains why she left and cut-off Olivia when she was a child (not to mention her separation from Vincent). I also found Olivia’s relationship and dynamic with Tom to be another weak spot due both Tom’s character and his relationship being bland and shallow. I acknowledge that Olivia’s partner has very little to do with the core story so I don’t necessarily fault the book for not spending much time exploring their relationship, but their miscommunication and relationship often feels like a minor distraction from the book’s more compelling content.

Despite some of the 2nd half of the book not necessarily being my preferred genre/content and minor reservations on certain plot elements, I still appreciated how detailed The Ghostwriter was. Well-written and well-plotted, I thought this was a great slow burn type of thriller full of vignettes that really takes you back to the 70’s (or so I would imagine had I been alive back then-). Unrelated to the story, the book cover and graphic art is outstanding both from a design and narrative standpoint.