just_one_more_paige's reviews
1499 reviews

 

González's first book, Olga Dies Dreaming, was so good - I read it right after it came out a couple years ago and loved it. So I was really excited for this sophomore novel.
Goodreads does a great job with this blurb, so I'm just gonna copy it over here and save myself some effort: In 1985, Anita de Monte, a rising star in the art world, is found dead in New York City; her tragic death is the talk of the town. Until it isn’t. By 1998 Anita’s name has been all but forgotten—certainly by the time Raquel, a third-year art history student is preparing her final thesis. On College Hill, surrounded by privileged students whose futures are already paved out for them, Raquel feels like an outsider. Students of color, like her, are the minority there, and the pressure to work twice as hard for the same opportunities is no secret. But when Raquel becomes romantically involved with a well-connected older art student, she finds herself unexpectedly rising up the social ranks. As she attempts to straddle both worlds, she stumbles upon Anita’s story, raising questions about the dynamics of her own relationship, which eerily mirrors that of the forgotten artist.

First, I listened to the audiobook for this and it was one of the most dramatically narrated audiobooks I have ever experienced. These narrators gave it all their effort and acting, which was such an immersive experience (though did involve a lot of volume adjustments, as things got heated and voices raised...which happened quite often).
 
 As to the story as a whole, I am partial to Olga, if I'm being honest. However, this was still *really* good. I honestly think the primary reason is that the very real, as in emotionally intense, aspects of this one were harder hitting to me personally. Both novels do a fantastic job of creating an entertaining and enjoyable story, balanced with diverse and interesting plot, great  - and varied - character development (of note here: I love how some characters were exactly as bad as expected, and some were able to surprise you with their willingness to consider a challenged POV...that is a large part of what made this story and these characters more than just caricatures, what made it truly compelling), and a heavy dose of salient social (justice) commentary. This one though, had me mired in dread for about two thirds of the total reading experience. The train wrecks of these relationships, the patterns of manipulation and abuse and gaslighting are hard to read. Raquel’s sections were especially difficult, claustrophobic, to read. So, shout out to González for writing that was that palpable. But also, warning to other potential readers if that is content that is tough for you.

One of the major themes of this novel was the straddling of worlds, as it were: the parallel of being caught between the US and Cuba, for Anita, and between socioeconomic statuses, for Raquel. (Of particular note, Raquel’s difficulties with the social lines of respect and casual-ness with her professor, lines that seemed to come so easily to those from a different social background, was a quietly done but spectacular example of the intangibles of privilege. And in the end, as she finds that comfort for herself, we see that it's born out of self-confidence, with a strong and important commentary about how that self-confidence is harder to come by/maintain based on social messages about your worth that you receive as the norm.) Both were struggling to figure out how to follow their own passions and live their own lives, even when their past says that makes them traitors/“changed,” and the current day questions whether they deserve to be there or if following their interests/heart makes them “taking advantage of” the partner’s wealth/access. There is no winning, really. And if you aren’t steadfast in who you are/what you want, it’s so easy to lose yourself in that push-pull. Watching both Anita and Raquel live through this, even with a generation of change between them, is so frustrating and heartbreaking. Especially in light of another major theme of the novel: the power of visibility for art and artists - who is allowed to have access to that audience and who controls it and creates barriers to it. Perhaps, if Anita's name and work had been given space and allowed to stand in the public eye, then Raquel wouldn't have had to feel as alone as she did.

To start, I felt like these parallel women and stories as a stylistic device seemed obvious. But as the story unfolded, the depth of the women and their stories, the emotional intensity of their narratives, separately and in juxtaposition with each other, had me invested. So, obvious it may have been, but it was skillfully enough done that I was riveted. And there were elements that weren't anticipated, and they were enough for me to keep this story unique. In particular, the way González conveyed the power of loneliness and thinking/hoping things would be different next time, the need to matter to someone, thoroughly touched my heart. I also really enjoyed the messaging about the way our identity and culture and upbringing can influence both our art and the way we see others’ art. It's so important that we not dismiss or ignore or not consider that, for ourselves or others. Art and the artist - and the viewer - cannot be separated or considered in silos, not if we're being honest.   
 

Finally, I liked the little bonus of unexpected elements of the mystical. That was, as I said, not something I'd anticipated, but it was one of the unique aspects of this novel that gave it a little something extra. I'm very much now hoping to be able to come back as a bat and antagonize any haters. Lol. But seriously, this was a great read. Some relationship drama, some social commentary, some mystery/thriller, a lot of art and music, and a splash of the paranormal and well-deserved comeuppance (Anita really did get the last laugh). Page-turning all the way through. 

 

“…and remind herself that she was not the first to walk this path, nor would she be the last. Nor would either of them be forgotten.” 

 

As you may have noticed, I don't reward a lot of middle grade/chapter books. Every once in awhile I'll pick one up, and I'm usually impressed (see Other Words for Home), but it's just not a primary reading type for me. However, a few weeks ago, Erin Becker (who I met while at undergrad at UNC) reached out about her debut novel coming out shortly, this novel, and asked if I'd be willing to review it. Well, if you follow me at all, you'll know I just recently posted about Cleat Cute, which I picked up because it was sapphic and soccer-themed, two things very close to my heart. Well, this book had those same primary themes (plus a few others), so, naturally, I decided I had to give it a try. 

 

*An early e-version of this book was provided to me in exchange for a review. The thoughts/comments in this review are entirely my own honest opinions.* 

 

Quick synopsis: Mel and Tory used to be best friends, but a falling out last year changed that. Nw, even though they still play together on the same soccer team, and are in the same classes at school, things just aren't the same. And they could really use the support, with everything they're dealing with. Mel isn't sure she's cut out to be captain, is struggling with nerves over a class presentation, and isn't sure she has anyone she can tell (other than her anonymous text-friend) about the poetry she's been working on. Tory may be outwardly put together, but inside, she's falling apart, as her mother's focus on crafts and her new husband doesn't seem to leave any time for Tory, and she doesn't feel like she has anyone she can confide in (other than her secret text-friend) about liking girls. As the end of the school year looms, with soccer championships and school president elections on the line, Mel and Tory have to figure out how to deal with everything from family problems to friendship changes to soccer field dynamics to their feelings in a real life way, beyond their online conversations. 

 

To start, I was a little worried because, while the issues and internal understanding of themselves and social-emotional puberty changes are spot on for Mel and Tory's 8th grade selves, the narrative voice felt a bit young/childish for that. It was solid, but I wanted them to be in like, 6th grade, not 8th, based on the writing (and, though my own health education work with middle schoolers, how they usually sound to me). However, as I got farther into the novel, the writing got better and more mature. I think perhaps it was just the intro chapters, the "getting to know the characters" basics, that came across more childish. And once I settled into the writing and age, my reading experience smoothed out considerably. 

 

The story itself was tender and delightful. So many very real youth situations found their way into these pages - school and family and friends and sport and extracurricular pressure and expectation and sometimes forgetfulness/leaving behind - and I found it so easy to remember and empathize with Tory and Mel. Middle school is a time of so many changes, and trying to figure them all out, while also discovering yourself, is such a unique and complex journey for everyone. We saw two very different, individual realities for Tory and Mel as they went through this for themselves, but the universality of change was displayed so well. 

 

I particularly loved these relationship situations between/amongst friends (and maybe more than friends?): the complications of things getting more nuanced as one gets older, working to “hold two opposing ideas” at the same time (in their feelings for other people and in their understanding of themselves and the passions/interests they can have), is such a gorgeous message/lesson that all young people have to learn. It's explained in such a clear and relatable way for young readers here. Another highlight for me was the sibling relationships for both Mel and Tory. They both have that mix of exasperation and annoyance and support and mutual jealousy/sadness that comes out as meanness, but also the pure excitement when the other one does something brave. I am always a softie for great, realistic sibling relationships and Becker delivered that here. And of course, the relationship between Tori and Mel - both of them realizing how they actually feel about each other and taking a chance with honesty about it - is so brave and heartwarming. Their little ice cream date to close the book was simply adorbs. 

 

While the closing was, potentially, a bit overly sweet, the happy ending fits the vibe of the storytelling. Plus, it's middle grade, so, I'd want to leave my readers with hopes for a happy ending and positive future for themselves too. Overall, I really enjoyed this young coming of age story. And I think my own middle school self might really have benefitted, might have learned some things for/about myself, from something like it. I may not be a convert to this age-range of books, but I liked and would definitely recommend this one. 

 

“…sometimes I’m lonely and I don’t know why.” 

 

"Here's the thing. When you're little, you can be friends with anyone. And then when you're older, everything changes. One day you turn around and your friends feel like aliens to you, and you feel like an alien to them. Even worse, you're like an alien to yourself, too." 

 

"Messing up / and still trying again, / I'd say finally, That's / the most human thing I know" 

 

"I kind of can't believe this. I've never heard my mom say she did something wrong. I think her way of being the strong one also meant always being right." 

 

"Maybe being magic isn't about being perfect [ ...] Maybe it's taking all the imperfect moments and still making something great. And when things are tough, when something goes wrong, I don't want to choke or run away or give up, or pretend it's okay when it's not, or pretend that I'm someone I'm not, or shove all the stars into a jar. Instead, I want to say, I am who I am. it is what it is. And I get to decide what I'm gonna do next." 

 

"It's scary, letting people in. Maybe the scariest thing on the planet. But you know what? I want this goofy, messy girl to feel the way she makes me feel. And that's worth doing something scary." 

 

"I think I like being more questions than answers. I think I find the mystery delicious." 

 

Look. I’m sorry. Well, I’m not. But. I have alwaysssss had a soft spot for this romance fantasy stuff, even before it had a cool “romantasy” moniker and #booktok “discovered” it. Call me hipster emo about it. I accept. Anyhoo, pluses and minuses there. The popularity has made it easier to find lots of books in the genre, so there’s always a new one when I’m in the mood. Buttttt, the quality is definitely always a grab-bag situation. And this one definitely fell into the “pushed out too fast and not enough editing” category. Altogether too bad, both because I wanted something better, but also, I read another series from Armentrout years ago (the Lux series) and I remember it being much better written, so my hopes were higher. 

 

Basically, this couldn’t find the line of originality versus proven classics. It was halfway familiar names (people and places), paranormal creatures (werewolves and vampires), and the general chosen one bringing down an oppressive governmental situation. But it did it poorly. It was not nearly different enough, but wouldn’t just accept that it’s the same as everything else (and go with it because that’s what the people want). Plus, literally nothing was explained. I’m here for not starting with an info dump but like halfway through I still didn’t feel like I understood anything that was going on/building (even stuff that Poppy does know, tbh, as I realize she’s in the dark on some things so it makes sense that those are unclear to the reader too). 

 

Ok and then there is Poppy and Hawke. That main couple build is usually something I love, but it’s SO uneven. Their interactions seem anachronistic to the rest of the story unfolding around them. And I wanted to fall into them, but the way Hawke acts is just…too far bad, not respecting Poppy like at all (other than her “violence” being so “intriguing” to him), and it just never got to a point where I was comfortable enough with the “dark hero” figure he cut to get past it and actually fall. It’s an unhealthy trope to begin with, so I always feel a little bad liking it, but this just…was so bad that I never really could. 

 

And the plot development and Poppy’s story are just similarly, under-development, with no nuance, and just, also bad? Yikes. Some of the most confusing, uneven, poorly edited writing I’ve ever read. 

 

 

This book came at me from all sides - an early physical copy from the library and an audiobook ALC from Libro.fm - and honestly this summer has been so much busier than normal (which is to say, way busier than I have wanted it to be), so, a quirky queer zombie novel felt just right. The vibes from the cover and description had me in mind of a B-level horror flick and with that in mind, this novel delivered. 

 

A bit estranged from her family, recently broken up with her ex-girlfriend, and trying to find a new path and community in life after moving to San Lazaro, AZ, Wendy's life is a bit messy. When Pride events that should have been fun, celebratory escapes turn deadly as an infection that is turning people into mindless, violent husks seems to be spreading, Wendy's life gets even messier. What to do? Well, try to stop the zombie outbreak, I suppose. Together with a small group of other queers - "drag queen Logan, silver fox Beau, sword lesbian Aurelia and her wife Sam, mysterious pizza delivery stoner Sunshine, and, oh yeah, Wendy’s ex-girlfriend Leah" - she jumps into tracking the outbreak to its source and trying to save Pride, the community, and their lives.  

 

Oh this was messssssyyyyyyy, in all the ways: relationships, sex, life choices, blood and violence, drama. Big yes. That's what I was looking for. It was absurdist, but in a good way. There was so much gore and body horror and death, and all the apocalypse staples of homemade weapons and souped up cars and chaotic fight scenes. And the pizza van situation gave me real horror-humor s4 Stranger Things vibes and I didn't hate that at all. I also enjoyed, and got similar vibes from, the everyday things that still happened/needed to happen during a zombie apocalypse (like getting Plan B and making coffee). It was just wild the way that things ended up so out of control, and fairly quickly, and like, not a single single character acted more surprised by the descent into chaos and violence from regular people/people they know, definitely played into those absurdist vibes. I feel like IRL, I (or just people in general) would step back and be like, "this is abnormal and wtf is going on?!" much sooner. Then again, the world is kind of falling to pieces, so maybe not... 

 

Outside of the spot on horror-humor vibes, the plot was simple but held up. I guessed pretty early what the source of the outbreak was, but even with that it was entertaining to read through the "how" and "why" of it. Really, a solid, if ridiculous, commentary on capitalism and corporate greed and the blinders that those who have high ambitions can have. There were some basic, convenient aspects to the wrap up, but it was smooth, so it felt alright. And I actually did really appreciate the open-endedness of the ending (there is no way something this messy gets wrapped up quick and easy). That, and the fact that the author honestly acknowledged on-page that there wasn’t time to process the trauma, because it kept happening, were both well done and necessary for me to swallow the story (even bizarre as it was). I also want to mention the interesting, kind of off-the-wall, but also weirdly serious, moral questions about killing zombies, especially knowing there’s an antidote (while killing zombies). It presented a sort of ludicrous morality that really fit the vibe and also actually felt like it carried a real message. An unexpected and pleasant surprise.  

 

Overall, the dramatics of this novel were perfect. It was such a funny, weird, entertaining, offbeat, queer, character-driven, zombie-horror story.  

 

Alright, I read The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen a few months ago and had so much fun with it: the adventure, the romance, the smart dialogue. It was great. So when I was looking for a summer relaxing read for a beach weekend recently, this sequel felt like just the right thing. 

 

A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel is set some years after Country Gentleman and follows a favorite young character from that story: Luke. When Major Rufus d'Aumesty becomes the Earl of Oxney, now in charge of deeply mismanaged manor on the edge of the infamous Romney Marsh, a position hotly contested by his greedy uncle/extended family. Enter Luke Doomsday, a trained secretary and expert schemer (having grown up as part of the infamous Doomsday smuggling clan). While the two should be natural enemies, Luke is cocksure and engagingly competent, which is exactly what Rufus needs right now. And Rufus turns out to be the exact personality and support that Luke cannot resist...though that isn't quite enough to dissuade him from his private goals, the ulterior motive that drove him to work at Stone Manor to begin with. As the lies and family secrets grow, they threaten to destroy the budding relationship between Rufus and Luke, and the two must decide once and for all what is most important to them. 

 

This sequel had so many of the things (the adventure, the romance, the smart dialogue) that I loved about the first, but managed to present them in a completely separate and unique way. Let's see. First and foremost, I loved the writing, the banter especially. It's this short and choppy back and forth that is so smoooooooth and perfect for these characters. The bluster of the two, each in their own way, mixed with the smooth wordplay, is honestly a mix I’ve never experienced and maybe wouldn’t expect to like (Rufus’ vibe isn’t quite my personal romantic-interest style) but honestly I really enjoyed it. And on a more serious relationship note, this connection between Rufus and Luke, the similarity of family abandonment (but then being taken in by other/better family) and physical/educational disability, as it were, is making for some quite touching bonding before they even realize that’s what’s happening. My heart was so soft for it. 

 

Just in general, I was happy to see more from Luke, as he grew into his own and did the difficult work of coming to terms with his complicated and traumatic family history. While it was a really heartbreaking situation, it was also truly compelling character development. Luke’s plans to "show" everyone, and how it ended up being so convoluted and bound up in youthful trauma and conflicting and nigh on impossible to explain his motivations, is so very REAL...and a very good argument for why mental health care is so important and necessary and that it’s been that way forever only people didn’t recognize it as such (still don’t, in many cases). Watching the way Rufus handles Luke, helps him open up and figure a way to move on that works for him individually, and opens up his own self in vulnerability to let Luke in…I mean, oh my heart.  

 

As to other aspects of the novel, by just two chapters in, I had guffawed like four times (I would say giggled, as that’s likely more accurate to the sound I made, but guffaw fits the vibe of the book better) because Charles just has that way with her writing. And the setup and interactions lend themselves to hilarity; I always love when the stuffy gentry get shown up by their own rules/propriety and bullshit, so satisfying. (As the story went, and we saw Rufus' family get worse and worse in their actions, my satisfaction in their "losses" just got stronger and stronger.) Speaking of them, they were sooooo bad. Charles writes a fantastic IRL villain, a regular old person that just has no redeeming qualities, and that makes them worse than an overexaggerated-style "big bad." There were also some other great side characters, like Rufus' cousins(?) Odo and Berry, who had some of their own nuanced personalities and development throughout the novel. And it was lovely to revisit Gareth, too. Oh, and I can't forget to mention: the spice was verrrry nice. 

 

The greater plot around Luke's secret/ulterior motives, the drama of who actually is the Lord of Stone Manor, and the culminating treasure hunts and reveals and dramatic life-saving rescue of the finale, all just made for a truly entertaining story. And I loved the way it wrapped up! The difference between ethics and morals, the lawful right versus what’s right in reality, is a thing I love about the "outside the law characters" (the Doomsday’s in this case, and as seen in some other quality historical romance, like The Queer Principles of Kitt Webb and/or fantasy with a grey hero, like The Mask of Mirrors or the Six of Crows duology.) 

 

I just had so much fun reading this, just like I did with the first, and will absolutely be picking up more from K.J. Charles. 

 

“But even if you weren’t fully aware of what was happening at the time, it will have been there - the fear of power, and hostility. Knowing you have been abandoned and could be again. Feeling you should be a part of something but you aren't. [...] When people are frightening, you want to please them. [...] Certainly, it's harder to oppose them.” 

 

“It’s very hard to be out of your accustomed place.” 

 

“Tell me you’ve thought of oil. / In my pocket. / Absolutely engagingly competent.” (Idk, for some reason this exchange encapsulated Rufus and Luke and it got me, I loved it.) 

 

“He’s that way, Luke. Aunt Sybil says he's hard to love but it's not true. What's hard is making him see it when you do, because he's already decided you don’t.” 

 

I have read a few of Acevedo's YA novels (in verse and prose), The Poet X and With the Fire on High. And they were both phenomenal. And so, I was really excited to pick this, her first adult novel, up. 

 

Here's the blurb from Goodreads: "Flor has a gift: she can predict, to the day, when someone will die. So when she decides she wants a living wake--a party to bring her family and community together to celebrate the long life she's led--her sisters are surprised. Has Flor forseen her own death, or someone else's? Does she have other motives? She refuses to tell her sisters, Matilde, Pastora, and Camila. But Flor isn't the only person with secrets. Matilde has tried for decades to cover the extent of her husband's infidelity, but she must now confront the true state of her marriage. Pastora is typically the most reserved sister, but Flor's wake motivates this driven woman to solve her sibling's problems. Camila is the youngest sibling, and often the forgotten one, but she's decided she no longer wants to be taken for granted. And the next generation, cousins Ona and Yadi, face tumult of their own: Yadi is reuniting with her first love, who was imprisoned when they were both still kids; Ona is married for years and attempting to conceive. Ona must decide whether it's worth it to keep trying--to have a child, and the anthropology research that's begun to feel lackluster." 

 

There were a lot of narrative voices in this novel. We heard from Flor, and all her sisters, as well as her daughter Ona and niece Yadi. And normally I appreciate this style of storytelling, but in this case, I found it to be rather confusing. There was a lot of jumping around both in whose perspective we were in and what time period (look back/past or present-day). Plus, there were some snippets that were "interview" style, as Ona was working on her anthropological research and was conducting recorded conversations with her family members. And, in the time honored tradition of families everywhere (especially female family members and, not from personal experience but definitely what I've gleaned from literature, Latin(a) family members), there is quite a bit of talking about each other. All that to say, I really did struggle to follow who was who. and who was narrating. and what was happening to who, and when it was happening to them. I did eventually settle, mostly, into the narrations and characters connections, but this is definitely not a novel one can passively read (or listen to, in my case...of note here, the audiobook narrators were fantastic). 

 

One aspect I was really impressed by, and that should come as no surprise considering Acevedo's reputation, was the absolutely gorgeous writing. You can tell her background in poetry from the deftness of the wordplay and flow and the rhythm in the writing. So smooth, so good. I also am always here for a classic Spanish/Latin literature vibe of intergenerational family with abilities that border on magic (magical realism). In the vein of Like Water for Chocolate and anything from Garcia Marquez, this hits. But there was also an irreverence to it here that I loved. The thematic threads of this book were anchored in a unique and open and creative examination of female bodies/pleasure (mostly self), including menopause and fertility and breastfeeding and masturbation and many other aspects that everyone is afraid to talk about, and therefore never see enough light/normalization. It’s a beautiful conversation about something that should always be considered that beautiful, but instead is labeled vulgar and loose. That spoke to my soul and was an absolute highlight of the reading experience for me.  

   

On the whole though...I don't know. This novel had all the elements. I simply loved some trajectories - Yadi and Matilde in particular - and in general the way they all moved and wove together as a family, as women, and the overall message of how women support each other, but don’t always talk about the things that would actually be helpful. And yet, something was missing in the novel as a whole, some piece that would have made it great. Maybe the pacing (it felt a bit slow, surprising considering the number of characters we were following) or maybe how hard I had to work to piece everything together or maybe that the ending(s) felt a bit anticlimactic for me? But in the end, while this was a very solid overall read, it was not as special as I'd hoped. I definitely think she shines more in her YA work. 

 

 

“Some things take time to cure. Candles aren’t candles until they’ve hardened in the dark and can be turned on without the wax melting before the flame can consume it. Soap isn’t soap until the lye and lather binds. Rum takes weeks of adding honey and bay leaf and wine before it can be called or served as mama-juana. Cannabis even needs darkness, to shed itself of moisture, before becoming something that will burn, heal. You’re in a curing season.” 

 

“How do you learn to live with what will not be? How do you console yourself with the life that you have when the humans you love most are hopeful for more than you?” 

 

“I like to think there was a time, before our mothers, and theirs, and theirs and theirs, some great-great who knew her own pleasure. A time before we were wrapped in corsets, and courtships, and the approximation of proper. I like to think we were nations of women who undulated to a music all our own.” 

 

“We learned in the shadows, when boys who should not, did. When girls we loved loved us back, right? We learned in the big beds of other people’s parents, didn’t we? On a rare occasion, we might have even learned in the sunlight. We might have learned in the quiet. We learned as we listened to the still, to the loudness of our hearts. But not from our mothers.” 

 

“It amazes me how few questions I know to ask, or whom to ask them of, until it’s already too late for the answers to be useful. How do lineages of women from colonized places, where emphasis is put on silent enduring, learn when and where to confide in their own family if forbearance is the only attitude elevated and modeled?” 

 

“And I know the heart is a burial ground for memories that shame and hurt. You can visit and place flowers there and make it a tomb. Or let those things act as fertilizer and pay no homage.” 

 

“…all of us are magic wrapped in skin.” 

 

You know how, every once in a while, you come upon a book that is just perfect for you? The exact right story with the exact right characters at the exact right time? Well, other than the fact that I am pretty sure any time would have been the right time in this case, this was that book for me. I am going to say this here at the beginning and I'll probably repeat it a few times throughout this review, but I seriously cannot stress enough how much I will *never* be over this book. 

 

Truly is a bestselling romance novelist, but between the recent breakup with her fiance (he cheated) and her parents marriage - which she has always held up as an example of a perfect relationship - her belief in love and happily ever after is facing some real outside challenges. Colin is a bit more of a realist in his outlook on relationships; in his practice as a family lawyer, he deals with a lot of divorce cases. When the two meet as guests on a well-known podcast brought in to give relationship advice from opposite ends of the love spectrum, sparks fly. Colin's advice hits Truly in her recently-soft spots and even his hotness can't overcome her defensive responses. However, a few days later, Colin reaches out to ask for a restart and after some pushing from her bestie, Lulu, a legitimately heartfelt apology from Colin, and an internal pull that she's totally pretending isn't happening, Truly gives in. With more time spent together - and realizing that he is truly an amazing guy, one that she is happier spending time around than not - that internal pull towards Colin gets stronger and stronger, harder to ignore. Truly will have to decide if she's ready to risk her emotional safety for a chance at true love, despite all her recent life experiences that upended her original belief in the concept.   

 

Bellefleur is very much an auto-read author for me, as I have read every single contemporary romance she's published and they're all great. (See my previous reviews for Written in the Stars, Count Your Lucky Stars, Hang the Moon, and The Fiancée Farce.) Each one is uplifting and feel-good, funny and quirky, with great dialogue and wonderful steam/spice. And in particular, her fully rounded representations of bisexuality are, for me, everything. She is outspoken both in her novels and IRL on behalf of the bi community and in her efforts to bright light to bi erasure. As a bi person in a hetero-presenting relationship, that means so much. And in the case of Truly, Madly, Deeply - this was central to the plot in a way that made me feel *very* seen. The conversation Truly and Colin have coming out to each other hits soooooo hard. I love Bellefleur for giving it. And it's hard to separate that out from this review, and I don't think I want to anyways, as that's so much a part of the book's wonderfulness, but I do want to be transparent about it. 

 

 Anyways, oh my goodness this was magical! By only five chapters in, I was grinning ear to ear at this combative flirty dialogue, the sexual tension, and epic back and forth banter-arguing. I cannot with how much fun I had with it (as Lulu said, it was better than pay per view). For me, this book was entirely centered around Truly and Colin. I mean, I loved Lulu as a bestie and Caitlin as Colin's sister. Fantastic and fun side characters. And there were low key some other plot things happening, like Colin's shitty family and Truly's parents separation (and her plan to get them back together), which were fine (nothing special, but you know, a good story needs multiple aspects). But mostly, Truly and Colin were *it,* and those other pieces added just enough to see how perfect they were together in the ways they supported each other through moments they couldn't deal with alone.  

 

Let me break down all the things I loved. First of all, is anyone else picturing Colin as Steve from Stranger Things? I mean, look at the cover art. It cannot just be me. And the personalities fit...it's that saucy-irreverent, but still totally sweet/soft/sincere shit, and it really presses all my buttons. Love them both. Plus, here, the deep dives into random topics, spouting off like a wiki article, that’s what my IRL man is like and I roll my eyes, but I love it...so that's only making Colin hotter. And it's not just his genuine desire to be safe and respectful of Truly, nor his clear attraction to her physically, nor the perfect mix of heartfelt and [lightly] contentious verbal sparring throughout (though it's all those things too). But the spicy scenes hit exactly right for me too, tbh. I don’t usually like dirty talk, it often seems forced or awkward when I'm reading it, but Colin’s monologue about what he’d done thinking about Truly…I mean, PHEW. Which is then followed up by a raspy voice (I love a raw-rough-needy, struggling to maintain control, voice) and a “rough pull closer” to finally kiss and break the sexual tension: perfection. I SWOON. Later too, there's a small thing that comes up, possibly not something most readers will really register even. But for me? The hand at the neck (Colin's at Truly's neck) that would normally make one feel terrified because it’s so vulnerable, but the right hand, from someone you know treats you gently, is different, touching something deep and primal. I honestly don't know how Bellefleur is doing it, but she’s hitting ALL my notes, even the smaller ones, in a way I don't remember a romance doing before. Anyways, all that to say, Colin is basically the perfect man.  

 

Random final notes. First, this book also managed to include some lovely romance tropes, while avoiding my least favorites: miscommunication and the forced third-act breakup. Not having those two here was icing on an already pretty spectacular cookie cake. Second, as always, the oblique references to Bellefleur’s other books/characters (Fiancée Farce, for one, if I’m not mistaken) - a theme throughout all her Seattle-based novels, is something fun that I enjoy spotting while reading.    

 

Look y'all. I devoured this book. It was perfect for me and, to end where I began, oh my fucking god, I will NEVER be over this book. 

 

“But disagreements are natural. Normal. [...] But peace doesn't mean the absence of conflict. That's not realistic. It's about being able to have those inevitable disagreements without being contemptuous or defensive.” 

 

“With anyone else she might've considered the moment broken, but with him it just felt like turning to the next page in a book she'd never read. A book she;d left lingering on her nightstand for weeks, picking it up and putting it back down, her hopes for it so high she feared there was no earthly way the reality of it could live up to her expectations, too afraid she wouldn't like the ending.” (If that isn’t the most relatable book nerd romance shit I’ve ever read.) 

 

“Love launched ships and started wars and inspired sonnets and drove people to madness. Love was heaven and hell, sin and redemption. It was as real to her as any other force of nature, hurricanes and earthquakes and lightning storms and meteor strikes. It fascinated her as much as it terrified her as much as it humbled her and - [....] Love had to be enough. There was no point if it wasn’t.” (Like if there weren't enough signs and reasons that this book was everything for me, I literally have a tattoo that says "love is enough." UGH.) 

 

“I happen to be wildly in love with you. Isn't it obvious? You fucking own me, Truly.” 

 

I'm sorry, is it actually possible to see this title/cover combo and not want to give it a try? Is it? Coming from a bi millennial whose tastes run very stereotypically along the lines of "the entire cast of the 1999 The Mummy starring Brendan Fraser," I can tell you it's not. (In other news, having been inspired to rewatch Raiders of the Lost Ark during my reading of this novel, The Mummy the FAR superior movie in all ways. I don't even care how cute Harrison Ford's little smirk is, he's no Brendan Fraser. And that's not even getting into how much better the rest of the cast is, nor the much more even expertise split in the MCs nor the humor...I could go on, but you get it, I think.) Anyways back to me not being able to walk past this book on the "new" shelf at the library without taking it home with me. 

 

Alright, this book gets a lazy blurb...here's what Goodreads says: "It’s been Corrie’s life goal to lead an expedition deep into the Mexican jungle in search of the long-lost remains of her ancestor, Chimalli, an ancient warrior of the Aztec empire. But when she is invited to join an all-expenses-paid dig to do just that, Corrie is sure it’s too good to be true...and she’s right. As the world-renowned expert on Chimalli, by rights Corrie should be leading the expedition, not sharing the glory with her disgustingly handsome nemesis. But Dr. Ford Matthews has been finding new ways to best her since they were in grad school. Ford certainly isn’t thrilled either—with his life in shambles, the last thing he needs is a reminder of their rocky past. But as the dig begins, it becomes clear they’ll need to work together when they realize a thief is lurking around their campsite, forcing the pair to keep their discoveries—and lingering attraction—under wraps. With money-hungry artifact smugglers, the Mexican authorities, and the lies between them closing in, there’s only one way this all ends—explosively." 

 

Well, I'm falling solidly into the middle lane on this book. Some things I really enjoyed, some things fell a little short of expectation. But overall, a fairly enjoyable read. Starting with the plot, it delivered everything you'd want from a classic archeological adventure mixed with romance, but in a pretty unevenly paced way. This started pretty slowly, very interpersonal relationship focused, and it took a longgg time (or at least that's what it felt like) for the archeology pieces - digging and discovering and water rapids and a secret thief and caves behind waterfalls, etc. - to kick in. Though they were solid and fun once we got them. And the higher action items - the secret thief, a chase/knife scene, artifact smugglers and the Mexican government - were all super backloaded. Again, very fun, but a bit later in the game than I'd have liked for them to kick in. 

 

On the other hand, the romance pieces were always forefront. Corrie and Ford were *totally* obsessed with each other, if their constant internal monologues, focused on how unfairly attractive each other was, were anything to go by. Phew. It was clear the two had years of pent-up lust/interest that needed letting out. For a while at the beginning, I was wondering if we were going to get any archeology at all, or if it was gonna be all hate-pining and sniping because they were too into their own POVs to admit how they really felt. Thankful to their friend Ethan for sticking his nose in to get them past it, at least to start. (Even if how he managed it seemed a bit more meddling than I'd expected from how his character was written otherwise.) Anyhoo, as far as the romance itself: I do enjoy a “love and hate are two sides of the same coin” style. It sets the stage for fire and fireworks in a lot of ways, and this book did deliver there. Lots of (verbal) fights, lots of tension (sexual and otherwise), and when we got to it, some solid spice.     

 

I really liked the flip-script from the original (and more common) storyline, with Corrie being more of the adventurous Lara Croft type and Ford being a more follow-the-rules, buttoned-up character. And I was here for Corrie's confidence in her body and outward comfort/owning of her sexual life/preferences. It was refreshing and also I enjoyed how discomfited it made Ford. Lolz. However, I did really get annoyed with Ford as such a self-focused and unaware person. It's clearly a safety/comfort thing that middle class cis white men have, so in that respect Segura nailed the characterization. And as he got deeper into his mistakes and relationship with Corrie, he did spend a lot of time apologizing and learning hard lessons and working on being better, but you do kinda wish for more for Corrie than to have to be the person to walk him through shit that isn't her issue (other than her apparently unavoidable attraction to the man). Ah well, and isn't that an accurate reflection of life...  

 

The last thing I'm going to say is that I think some of the writing could have been tightened up a bit, with more time spent on the details in what I think was seen as filler text. There was so much seesawing with the “I am out of touch with him and never think about him and he’s been disappeared for two years” and the “he a good guy and my bestie and I have all these feels about him and can’t stop thinking about him” that bounce back and forth *so* fast for whatever is most convenient for the dialogue and story. And this wasn't just between Corrie and Ford, but between Corrie and Ethan/Ford and Ethan as well. Like, a decision needed to be made about how well they knew each other, how close they were, and stuck with. This is kind of an insignificant thing if done right, but the repetitive back and forth in the indecision in the narrative made the writing feel sloppy, which does kind of suck for the reader. Solid dialogue though, which I definitely appreciated.     

 

Overall, as I said to start, color me entertained, if not blown away, by this romance. Shout out to the Author's Note, where Segura mentions that this was born from a tweet she sent, wishing that there were more romcoms about archeologists. I agree, honestly, and love that she inspired herself to write the romance she wished to read. Slow clap for that energy.  

 

“Because being with her, even for a moment, was worth any and all devastation that might follow.” 

 

I was in the mood for something a bit magical and escapist, but not quite ready to start/pick back up in a longer series. This standalone novel has been sitting on my TBR shelf at home for awhile, so I decided to give it a go. 

 

Évike is the only woman without power in her pagan village (the villagers blame her corrupted bloodline—her father was a Yehuli man, one of the much-loathed servants of the fanatical king), making her an outcast in the small community. When soldiers from the Holy Order of Woodsmen arrive, to claim a pagan girl for the king’s blood sacrifice, Évike is betrayed by her fellow villagers and surrendered. But the route to the city is deadly, and eventually only Évike and the cold, one-eyed captain are left alive. Except he’s no ordinary Woodsman - he’s the disgraced prince, Gáspár Bárány, whose father needs pagan magic to consolidate his power. Gáspár fears that his cruelly zealous brother plans to seize the throne and instigate a violent reign that would damn the pagans and the Yehuli alike and the two make a fragile pact to stop his brother. Over their journey, their mutual loathing and cooperation necessary for survival turn to affection, bonded through danger and mutual understandings of what it's like to be an outcast. However, their newfound closeness is threatened as they reach the city, and as Évike reconnects with her estranged father and discovers her own hidden magic, she and Gáspár need to decide whose side they’re on, and what they’re willing to give up for a nation that never cared for them at all. 

 

Well, for one, I loved all the folklore and mythology that is woven into this tale. The Jewish inspiration for the Yehuli people/stories, the central/eastern European monsters/magical creatures and pagan systems, and the influx of monotheism - Christianity - as the power of the city/ruling elite that is sweeping the land (though this was by far my least favorite, personally) worked together in an approximation of history, but with a clear fairy-tale retelling style, that was familiar, intriguing, transporting and well-grounded. I actually got a lot of Grishaverse vibes from the world-building side of things, though the characters were clearly older and the politics/plot was a bit more complex, similar more to Pike's The Lost Queen series (The Lost Queen and The Forgotten Kingdom, to date). Also, Reid definitely doesn't shy away from gore and violence in clear description. There was a lot of it. And it was absolutely not light or subtle or glossed over. However, it also never felt gratuitous, but rather it just realistically fit the story as it developed. 

 

As I mentioned, the world-building and politics were really complex and well-developed. A lot of that, I assume, can be attributed to the base this novel has in well-established folklore, as well as some real traditions and historical facts/events. Specifically, the stories of each cultural tradition, the mythology of where their beliefs and powers came from (and thus the keys to understanding and tapping into that power), were liberally woven through. Perhaps to the point where it slowed the greater story down, sure; however, while there is quite a bit of action and drama, this is also not written with a high-octane feel or pace. Once I settled into the deliberate speed and style of the writing, it fit. There were some aspects of the story were a bit confusing/unclear (as far as why they were necessary), particularly some of the choices made related to the turul, and some that were frustrating to read (in the way that, as a reader, you want to yell at the character that they're making the wrong call). Maybe they were questionable edis on the author's part, but maybe it comes down to Évike being a bit sheltered and Gáspár being timid, both due to how they grew up. Since both really never felt like they belonged, and deep down wanted nothing more than to find a space for themselves, to be needed and cared for, they had to learn some things the hard way, as they went. Sometimes, reading as a character works though all those tough lessons can be frustrating, but it was reasonable to their character development(s). So. 

 

The conflict between belief systems - Yehuli, pagan, Prinkepatrios - was an absolute highlight. What a commentary on the many ways the same beliefs/religions can be interpreted, in actual piety and in a grotesque and dangerous imitation of that (twisted to subdue alternative POVs and minority groups, which is ridiculous if you consider how similar the beliefs actually are). *And* the way they can be re-“interpreted” to support the most convenient story/ruling of the elite and powerful is infuriatingly familiar. The bloody results of religious intolerance are shown to the extreme they deserve/entail IRL here - which is to say, horrifyingly. And hats off to Reid for the way they portray how being raised within one system/POV makes it so hard to break free and cross lines to find common ground with others, as humans, even when both parties want to. Just, quietly heartbreakingly, but the emotionality it pulls from the reader is part of what made this book so good. 

 

Finally, speaking of that difficulty in and yearning to find common ground... The romance between Évike and Gáspár was solidly built and believable. Their development and growth towards each other was slow-paced, as it should be considering it was against both their wishes and beliefs, but keep that in mind if you are looking for a spicier romantasy vibe. It was steadfastly there and so real; it’s always the individual human connections, in this case a bond over a shared history of alienation and the abuse outcasts face (some quite viscerally, both physical and verbal), that overcome cultural prejudices. Plus, the moment Gáspár describes going to his knees for Évike had me *feeling* things. But, it was never overly present or too primary a focus of the way the plot played out. 

 

This was a sweeping retelling, told with classic storytelling/fairy tale rhythm, and building in the respect for stories and the power therein along the way. Layering history and folklore and romance and archetypal conflicts of belief-systems, I was lulled into this world and slow-paced, ineffable vibes.  

 

“We would have called it power, magic. They called it piety. But what is the difference, if both fires burn just as bright?” 

 

“Can you believe in something while still running your hand over its every contour, feeling for bumps and bruises, like a farmer trying to pick the best, roundest peach? / That is the only way to believe in something [...] When you've weighed and measured it yourself.” 

 

“When winter is one long haze of white, snow weighing down your roof and the cold lining your marrow, it is the dream of a green, bright spring that keeps you from despair.” 

 

 

Ok, Gibson has absolutely become an auto-read author for me. After loving both A Dowry of Blood and An Education in Malice, I am down for whatever she publishes. So, I honestly didn’t even know what this was about when I first picked it up. Though let me just say, first impressions – tarot cards as chapter art and a sewn in ribbon bookmark – were *deeply* promising. 

 

David Aristarkhov is heir to a powerful (financially, influentially, magically) family legacy. He’s been a psychic prodigy since his youth, which has helped him make his own reputation, but also caused his cold father to use his skills from an early age, with no care for David’s own wellness. Rhys is finally feeling on solid footing in his life, working on improving his relationship with his wife, Moira, focusing on his own magic-based career goals, and leaving his personal history with David in the past, where it belongs. But when an ancient devil comes to collect on an old family debt, David has no one to turn to for help, except Rhys and Moira. Despite their better judgement, the two are convinced to get involved. And over time, the three start to develop relationships separately and together that grow into something deeper and more meaningful than they’d ever expected. 

 

Oh. My. Goodness. This book has everything I love: the mystical accoutrements of the occult (spirits, astrology, tarot, seances), a supernatural mystery related to possession by a devil/demon, simmering three-way tension (that knowing the author will turn into a full-blown poly situation), a complex history of connection/relationships, low key secret societies, great dialogue. I mean, a book could not be more tailored to me as a reader. And I loved every single moment of it.   

 

The writing was easy, smooth and compelling. As I said, the dialogue was fast and smart, which is a huge winning aspect for me. The plot was interesting and well-paced. I am always a fan of deals-with-the-devil. The creativity in said deals the ways that both sides can always find a loophole, I just find it so fascinating and fun (that’s why I ended up so invested in Addie LaRue too). And, I thought the drama and excitement of mystery-solving and magical world-building was balanced so well with character development and relationship-building. 

 

Speaking of the relationships…the evolution of this poly relationship is everything. Gibson is the queen of communicating the complex and layered emotions from all three parties with nuance and gorgeous genuineness. Each possible iteration of the three gets equal care and page time and depth. I loved the way they played off and with each other, helping each other grow and evolve and be more, together and individually. It’s everything I love about the potential of expansive poly love and Gibson does it better than any other I’ve read yet. 

 

Look, I just loved these characters and this story and just, this whole book. It was everything I wanted out of a paranormal magic, poly romance, curse-breaking story. And on top of it all, the book smelled so good. I am freaking hype that this will be a series and so ready for more, as soon as possible, OMG please! 

 

“Lots of people are afraid of being alone with themselves [...] They're afraid of what they might find out about themselves, or they're terrified that the world will stop turning if they step away from the day's to-do list.” 

 

“When you love somebody, you only want what's real. Even if it's less pretty than that first date sparkle.” 

 

“A life lived in close proximity to death was a complicated one, but that didn't mean it was wicked or wrong.” 

 

“Rhys had felt a strange mix of anguish and longing, watching them wing their way around the ballroom like celestial bodies. Not jealousy, exactly. Something softer and more treacherous.” (this, this feeling - Gibson nails it) 

 

“So, this was what real friendship was: an immovable object staring you down saying they weren't going anywhere, thank you very much.” 

 

“I’d say that’s where magic comes from, our ability to taste extremes and choose for ourselves what serves us best. Most people, when left to make their own choices without being shamed for it, choose a sustainable middle ground between ecstasy and asceticism.”