orionmerlin's reviews
694 reviews

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

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adventurous challenging emotional mysterious tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

Characters – 8/10
I actually cared about the main cast, which is more than I can say for a lot of fantasy epics. Ead was fantastic, Sabran had layers worth peeling back, and their dynamic was one of the best parts of the book. However, Tané often read like she was emotionally constipated, and Niclays Roos? The man was just there to make bad decisions and whine about them. Some of the secondary characters blurred together like background NPCs, but the main ones did enough heavy lifting to keep me invested.
Atmosphere/Setting – 9/10
The world-building? Immaculate. If Samantha Shannon set out to create a world that felt like a fully realized legend, she nailed it. The different cultures, the politics, the history—it all felt vast and lived-in. I could picture every setting in striking detail, from the regal courts of Inys to the dragon-infested waters of Seiiki. That said, sometimes it felt like reading a history textbook when I just wanted to get back to the action. But overall, this was top-tier immersion.
Writing Style – 7/10
Shannon's prose oscillates between beautifully poetic and “please stop explaining things and just show me.” When it flows, it flows. But there are moments where she crams in so much exposition that it feels like she's afraid I’ll forget how the world works if she doesn’t remind me every five pages. Some dialogue felt a bit forced, but when she leaned into her strengths—character interactions and descriptions—it worked. Not my favorite writing style, but still solid.
Plot – 9/10
This is how you do a grand, sweeping fantasy plot right. Political intrigue? Check. Ancient threats awakening? Check. Badass women making power moves? Absolutely. The pacing actually kept me engaged, and the stakes kept building in a way that made me want to keep turning pages. I’ll admit, the resolution felt a little too neat given all the build-up, but the journey to get there was so satisfying that I’m willing to forgive a few convenient wrap-ups.
Intrigue – 8/10
Did I constantly think about what was happening when I wasn’t reading? Pretty much. Was I hooked from page one? Not exactly. Some parts dragged, especially when the book took detours into lengthy exposition dumps. Niclays' chapters in particular felt like momentum-killers. But when the story was firing on all cylinders, it was gripping. The intrigue was strong enough that I stayed engaged, even when I was rolling my eyes at some of the slower sections.
Logic/Relationships – 8/10
The political and magical systems made sense, which is saying something for a book with this much world-building. The relationships—especially Ead and Sabran—were nuanced and well-developed, though some friendships felt like they needed more emotional depth. The magic was cool but occasionally felt underexplained, and some side relationships could have used more development. But overall, nothing here broke immersion or felt wildly inconsistent.
Enjoyment – 8/10
I had a great time with this book. Did it change my life? No. Did I enjoy every second of reading it? Also no. But it was a well-crafted, high-stakes fantasy with compelling characters, dragons, and just enough intrigue to keep me engaged. The pacing could have been tighter, and the exposition could have been trimmed, but the strengths far outweighed the annoyances. Would I read a sequel? Absolutely.
Final Thoughts
The Priory of the Orange Tree is a damn good fantasy novel with rich world-building, complex characters, and an engaging plot. It has flaws—some pacing issues, over-explaining, and a few underdeveloped elements—but overall, it’s a highly enjoyable read that delivers where it matters.
Final Average Score: 8.1/10 
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A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik

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challenging dark funny mysterious tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.25

Characters – 9/10
If El Higgins walked into a room, half the people would love her and the other half would immediately want to leave. And honestly? That’s what makes her great. She’s a sarcastic, bitter, rage-fueled antiheroine who refuses to be the Chosen One, and I adored every second of her internal monologue. Orion Lake, the clueless golden boy who just won’t stop saving people, is an excellent foil, and their dynamic is pure chaotic gold. The side characters? Not as fleshed out as I’d like, but they serve their purpose—whether that’s helping, annoying, or actively trying to kill El.
Atmosphere/Setting – 10/10
Imagine Hogwarts, but instead of whimsy and nostalgia, it’s designed by a sadistic dungeon master who wants you to suffer. The Scholomance isn’t just dangerous—it’s actively homicidal. Maleficaria lurk in vents, classmates are just as likely to murder you as befriend you, and graduation is basically a bloodbath where only half the class makes it out alive. It’s grim, unsettling, and utterly fantastic. The world-building is dense, but it pays off, making this one of the most immersive magical school settings I’ve ever read.
Writing Style – 8/10
Naomi Novik’s writing is like El herself—witty, sharp, and, at times, exhausting. The prose is laced with dry humor and biting social commentary, and the world-building is meticulously detailed. Sometimes too detailed. There are entire pages of magical theory and political structure dumps that, while fascinating, make you want to skim ahead to the next actual event. The dialogue is snappy, though, and El’s voice is so strong that even when the info-dumping drags, she’s still entertaining enough to keep things moving.
Plot – 7/10
There’s a school full of murder-monsters and an overpowered hero trying to save everyone, so naturally, we spend a lot of time talking about how unfair the enclave system is. Don’t get me wrong, the underlying tension is great, but if you’re looking for a breakneck, twist-filled plot, this isn’t it. The pacing can be sluggish, and a lot of the book is just El existing in this death trap, trying not to die. The final reveal is solid, but I wanted more movement, more stakes, and less overexplaining of things I already got the first time.
Intrigue – 9/10
I started reading this book and found myself completely sucked in. The concept alone—magic school where survival is not guaranteed—kept me hooked. There’s an underlying sense of dread on every page, which makes even mundane activities (like taking a shower) feel like a life-or-death decision. The only reason this doesn’t get a full 10 is because the occasional info-dumps slow the momentum, making some sections feel like a magical survival guide rather than a novel.
Logic/Relationships – 8/10
The world-building is impressively tight, but the people within it? They could use a bit more nuance. The enclave system makes sense, the magic rules are consistent, and the Scholomance operates on a clear, brutal logic. But Orion’s whole “I must save everyone” compulsion? Barely explored. Some of the friendships feel a little thin, and El’s “everyone hates me” mentality gets grating when it’s clear that, actually, people don’t hate her nearly as much as she thinks they do. That said, the moral complexity of power, privilege, and magical ethics is chef’s kiss.
Enjoyment – 9/10
This book is an absolute blast if you like dark humor, morally gray characters, and a protagonist who would rather die than accept help. The writing can be dense, the pacing inconsistent, and El is sometimes too committed to her whole "I don’t need anyone" persona, but the sheer vibe of this book is unmatched. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Would I survive a day in the Scholomance? Not a chance.
Final Verdict: 8.6/10
If you’ve ever wished Harry Potter was less about friendship and learning and more about avoiding death by monster attack, A Deadly Education is for you. It’s dark, funny, and refreshingly cynical, with a protagonist who is equal parts brilliant and infuriating. The pacing drags sometimes, and the world-building can get a little too detailed, but overall, this is a fantastic read that left me immediately reaching for the sequel. 
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The Affair of the Mysterious Letter by Alexis Hall

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adventurous challenging funny mysterious medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

3.25

Characters: 6/10
Shaharazad Haas is fun—if by "fun," you mean a walking, talking chaotic neutral alignment chart who exists solely to be unpredictable. She’s entertaining, sure, but she doesn’t develop. John Wyndham, meanwhile, is essentially a sentient pearl-clutch, existing to react to Haas with increasing exasperation. Their odd-couple dynamic is amusing but repetitive. The side characters? A parade of over-the-top weirdos who are more “set dressing” than actual people. Fun? Yes. Deep? Not even a little.
Atmosphere/Setting: 8/10
Khelathra-Ven and its multiversal weirdness are the book’s biggest strengths—and also its biggest distractions. Hall throws every bizarre idea imaginable into the mix, creating a city that feels like Sherlock Holmes took a wrong turn into The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath while high on opium. It’s cool, but it also never stops. The novelty wears thin when every scene feels like a fever dream, and sometimes the setting overshadows what little plot exists.
Writing Style: 6/10
Hall writes with flair—sometimes too much flair. The narration is Victorian pastiche dialed up to 11, and while the wit is undeniable, the book often feels like it’s winking at itself so hard it might sprain an eyelid. The humor is sharp, but it relies on the same joke over and over: “Wyndham is scandalized, Haas does something unhinged.” It works… until it doesn’t. Dialogue is fun, but the prose sometimes reads like it’s showing off for an audience rather than telling a story.
Plot: 5/10
Mystery? Oh, right, that thing. The actual plot is like a tourist lost in Khelathra-Ven—visible in the distance but constantly getting sidetracked by some eldritch sideshow. It’s not that the mystery is bad, but the book often forgets it exists, meandering through detours that are fun but add little. By the time the solution arrives, it’s hard to care because the journey was mostly about the spectacle rather than the story.
Intrigue: 6/10
Did I want to keep reading? Most of the time. But did I have to? Not really. The world and characters are engaging enough to carry the book, but the lack of narrative urgency makes it easy to set down and forget about for a while. Sure, it’s fun when things happen, but the pacing is so uneven that for every fascinating revelation, there’s a stretch where it feels like the book is stalling just to show off another bizarre corner of its universe.
Logic/Relationships: 6/10
Haas is an all-powerful sorceress with a suspiciously convenient ability to do whatever the plot requires. The book plays it off as “of course she can do that,” which is fine for style but frustrating for stakes. The relationships, particularly between Haas and Wyndham, don’t really develop—they just… exist. Their dynamic is clear from chapter one and doesn’t evolve much beyond “straight-laced guy deals with chaos gremlin.” The rest of the relationships range from mildly interesting to entirely forgettable.
Enjoyment: 7/10
There’s a lot to love in The Affair of the Mysterious Letter—if you have the patience for its relentless absurdity. It’s clever, ridiculous, and frequently entertaining, but it’s also exhausting. By the time I finished, I admired what it tried to do more than I loved the experience of reading it. It’s the literary equivalent of a decadent, overly sweet dessert—great in small bites, but overwhelming in large portions.
Final Verdict: 6.5/10
This book is like a magic show where the magician keeps pulling rabbits out of hats long after the trick has stopped being impressive. It’s fun, creative, and witty, but the excess often works against it. If you enjoy style over substance, endless absurdity, and Sherlockian pastiches dunked in Lovecraftian weirdness, you’ll have a great time. If you need a focused story and character development, this one might drive you up the wall. 
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Beach Read by Emily Henry

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emotional funny hopeful reflective sad medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

Characters: 9/10
These characters had no business being this well-written. January and Gus didn’t just feel real—they practically climbed out of the book and started judging my life choices. Their chemistry? Chef’s kiss. The banter? So sharp it could cut glass. Even the side characters, like Pete and Shadi, weren’t just there for decoration. I actually cared about these people, which is annoying because now I miss them.
Atmosphere/Setting: 8/10
North Bear Shores might as well be a real place because I was there. The cozy bookstores, the lakeside nostalgia, the slightly invasive small-town charm—it all worked. I could feel the summer heat, hear the waves, and smell the overpriced bookstore lattes. But while the setting was immersive, it wasn’t transportational (yes, I just made that word up). I was in it, but I didn’t lose myself in it the way I wanted to. Close, but not quite a 10.
Writing Style: 10/10
If I could bottle Emily Henry’s wit and sell it, I’d be a billionaire. The prose was effortless—funny without trying too hard, poignant without being saccharine, and perfectly balanced between sharp dialogue and introspective narration. There was no over-explaining, no cringeworthy monologues—just good writing. I’d read Henry’s grocery lists at this point.
Plot: 8/10
A romance about two rival writers switching genres? Inject it straight into my veins. The setup was fantastic, the execution was solid, and the emotional depth gave it that extra oomph. However, there were a few pacing hiccups—some sections dragged, and certain plot beats were predictable (yes, I saw that emotional confrontation coming from a mile away). Still, the romance and character growth were so satisfying that I barely cared.
Intrigue: 9/10
This book had me ignoring my responsibilities like a true professional procrastinator. Every time I put it down, I found myself picking it back up just to see what happened next. The tension between January and Gus was enough to power a small country, and their slow-burn dynamic had me suffering in the best way. There were a couple of dips in engagement, but overall? I was invested.
Logic/Relationships: 9/10
Finally, a romance where people actually act like humans with real emotions instead of hormonal robots. January and Gus had backstories that mattered, motivations that made sense, and dialogue that didn’t feel like it was written by an AI programmed on rom-com clichés. The world-building was tight, the relationship arcs were believable, and there were no weird plot holes to pull me out of the experience.
Enjoyment: 10/10
I inhaled this book. I laughed, I sighed, I maybe teared up a little (shut up, don’t look at me). It was fun, it was emotional, and it made me remember why I love romance as a genre. I would recommend Beach Read to literally anyone, even that one friend who pretends they’re too cool for romance novels. (Spoiler: They’re not.)
Final Verdict: 9/10
An incredibly well-written, smart, and emotionally satisfying book. It had the humor, the heartache, and the sizzling chemistry to keep me hooked. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but I’d gladly read it again. And let’s be honest—I’d probably still drop everything to read whatever Emily Henry writes next. 
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The Secret History by Donna Tartt

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challenging dark reflective sad tense slow-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? No
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

Characters – 6/10
Look, I get it—Tartt wanted to craft a group of fascinating, intellectually superior misfits, but they ended up being insufferable instead. Henry is meant to be a genius, but he mostly comes across as an overdramatic sociopath with an umbrella fetish. Bunny is a loud, obnoxious caricature, which makes it all the more baffling that the group waits so long to get rid of him. Charles and Camilla are supposed to be alluringly mysterious, but their weirdly incestuous dynamic is never fully explored, leaving it as nothing more than a disturbing footnote. Julian is treated like some divine scholar, yet he barely does anything, and his exit from the story is laughably abrupt. And then there’s Richard—the supposed protagonist—who has all the personality of an unbuttered slice of toast.
Atmosphere/Setting – 7/10
Tartt absolutely nails the vibe of Hampden College—moody autumns, dark academia aesthetics, snow-covered bodies in the woods—but the problem is that she gets lost in it. Instead of using the setting to enhance the story, she drowns the narrative in endless, repetitive descriptions of candlelit study sessions and whiskey-fueled existential crises. It’s gorgeous at first, but after 500+ pages of brooding in tweed, it starts to feel like you’re stuck in a Pinterest board for pretentious liberal arts students.
Writing Style – 6/10
Tartt’s prose is undeniably beautiful, but at what cost? She spends entire paragraphs describing a single glance across a dimly lit room while the plot crawls forward at a glacial pace. There’s an overwhelming sense that she knows how good she is at writing, and she wants you to know it, too—every overwritten sentence practically screams, “Look at me! Look how literary I am!” The dialogue is also an issue, particularly Henry’s, who speaks as if he learned English from an 18th-century etiquette manual. The novel would have benefited greatly from a ruthless editor with a sharp red pen.
Plot – 6/10
The premise? Fantastic. The execution? Exhausting. The book tells you up front that Bunny gets murdered, but then it takes forever to get there. And once it does? It keeps dragging on. The first half is decent, even if it moves at a snail’s pace, but the second half becomes an endless loop of drinking, brooding, and bad decisions. The climax fizzles out, and the epilogue feels like an afterthought. This story could have been told in half the page count and lost nothing of value.
Intrigue – 5/10
I wanted to love this book. I really did. But the pacing absolutely kills it. What starts as a compelling dark academia mystery quickly turns into a sluggish, self-indulgent slog. I found myself skimming through long, drawn-out sections where absolutely nothing happens—just the same five people drinking, panicking, and vaguely hinting at past traumas that never get fully explained. If you’re expecting a thrilling, mind-blowing literary mystery, prepare to be disappointed.
Logic/Relationships – 6/10
For a group of supposedly brilliant scholars, these characters make some truly idiotic decisions. Their entire plan to murder Bunny is laughably bad, and the fact that they aren’t immediately caught is nothing short of a miracle. Richard’s acceptance into this snobby, insular clique is way too easy, and Julian’s godlike status among them is never justified—he’s just there, being cryptic and disappearing when things get messy. The relationships feel shallow, particularly the implied romance between Charles and Camilla, which is hinted at but never actually explored in a meaningful way.
Enjoyment – 5/10
This book has flashes of brilliance, but it’s buried under layers of self-indulgence. What could have been a gripping psychological thriller is instead a bloated exercise in style over substance. The atmosphere and concept are strong, but the pacing issues, overwritten prose, and unlikable characters make it a frustrating read. I wanted to be swept away by its dark academia charm, but by the time I slogged through the last hundred pages, I was just relieved to be done.
Final Thoughts
The Secret History is like an overlong dinner party with pseudo-intellectuals who love the sound of their own voices. The setting is gorgeous, the premise is promising, but the story is bogged down by its own pretentiousness. If it were a third of the length, it might have been a fantastic read. As it stands, it’s an aesthetic mood piece disguised as a novel, and it overstays its welcome.
Overall Rating: 6/10
Decent but painfully self-indulgent. Would recommend only if you enjoy literary fiction that values aesthetics over storytelling. 
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Verity by Colleen Hoover

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dark emotional mysterious sad tense fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? No
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

Characters: 7.5/10
The characters were interesting, but let’s not pretend they were groundbreaking. Lowen was the embodiment of passive protagonist syndrome, letting everything happen to her instead of actually doing anything. Jeremy? A walking enigma whose personality shifts depending on what the plot demands. And Verity? Absolutely terrifying—but more of a concept than a fully developed character. Crew, their son, had serious "creepy kid in a horror movie" energy, but his role in the story felt like an afterthought. Were they compelling? Sure. Were they consistently well-written? Not really.
Atmosphere: 9/10
This book practically drenched itself in tension. The gothic, isolated mansion? Creepy as hell. The eerie silences and slow-burning dread? Expertly done. Hoover nailed the unsettling vibes, making even mundane moments feel loaded with unease. It’s a masterclass in "something-is-very-wrong-here" energy. That said, it did lean into haunted house clichés a little too often—ominous noises, flickering lights, the works. But hey, it worked.
Writing Style: 7/10
Hoover’s writing is fast, accessible, and sharp, but not particularly deep. It’s the kind of writing that sucks you in and keeps you turning pages, even if it occasionally lacks finesse. The manuscript sections? Disturbing, sure, but they often felt more like shock value for shock value’s sake rather than a meaningful exploration of Verity’s psyche. Dialogue was serviceable, but there were moments where it felt stilted, especially between Lowen and Jeremy. Overall, easy to read but not exactly literary brilliance.
Plot: 8/10
Look, Verity is a wild ride, and that’s why the plot works. The pacing is fantastic, the suspense is gripping, and the twists are absolutely unhinged. But when you take a step back? Some of it is... kind of ridiculous. The manuscript twist was a brilliant concept but so over-the-top that it was hard to take seriously. And the ending? A prime example of “let’s throw in one last twist just because.” It’s fun, but it doesn’t always make sense.
Intrigue: 9.5/10
Was I hooked? Absolutely. This book grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. Even when I rolled my eyes at some of the more dramatic moments, I still had to know what happened next. If nothing else, Hoover knows how to write a story that demands to be read in one sitting. The only reason this isn’t a 10? The payoff didn’t quite match the buildup.
Logic: 6/10
Oh boy. If you’re the type to nitpick plot holes, Verity is going to drive you insane. Jeremy’s behavior? All over the place. Lowen and Jeremy’s relationship? Unrealistically fast and kind of inappropriate given, you know, the circumstances. The big twist? Raises way more questions than it answers. And let’s not even get started on the inconsistencies with Verity’s condition. Just don’t think too hard about it and you’ll have a great time.
Enjoyment: 8/10
Did I have fun? Hell yes. Was it a flawless masterpiece? Hell no. Verity is the book equivalent of a trashy psychological thriller movie—you know it’s a little ridiculous, but you’re having too much fun to care. It’s messy, addictive, and full of wild moments that will either leave you gasping or rolling your eyes (sometimes both). If you go in expecting a logic-tight, deeply layered psychological thriller, you might be disappointed. But if you just want a fast, disturbing, utterly gripping read? You’ll love it.
Final Verdict: 8/10
Verity is unhinged, addictive, and unsettling in all the best ways—but it’s also full of contrived twists and questionable logic. Think of it as popcorn thriller fiction: wildly entertaining, occasionally ridiculous, but impossible to put down. If you’re here for deep, thought-provoking psychological horror, this isn’t it. But if you want a book that will grab you and refuse to let go? Buckle up. 
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People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry

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emotional funny hopeful lighthearted reflective medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.75

Characters: 8/10
Poppy and Alex have that classic opposites-attract, slow-burn chemistry that romance readers eat up, and for good reason. They feel real, their banter is top-tier, and their history adds emotional weight. That said, Poppy is a bit too quirky at times, like she’s auditioning for the lead role in a Zooey Deschanel biopic, and Alex is so uptight he practically creaks when he moves. Their relationship is chef’s kiss, but their individual character arcs? Not exactly groundbreaking. Also, the side characters exist purely to prop up the main duo—fun but forgettable.
Atmosphere/Setting: 7/10
For a book that revolves around a travel writer, you’d think the settings would be more than just pretty wallpaper behind Poppy and Alex’s angst. Sure, Henry throws in some nice descriptions here and there, but the locations all blur together after a while. The Croatia trip stands out (mostly because of the incident), but otherwise, the travel aspect never feels fully utilized. It’s less “transport me there” and more “Google a stock photo and call it a day.”
Writing Style: 8/10
Emily Henry’s writing is so easy to devour—sharp, funny, and emotionally resonant when it needs to be. The dialogue is snappy, sometimes too snappy, like every conversation is fighting to be the wittiest rom-com scene ever written. And while the alternating timeline keeps things interesting, it also kills momentum. Just when things heat up in the present, BAM! You’re yanked back to a past vacation where nothing crucial is happening. Could the emotional beats have hit harder with a more linear approach? Probably.
Plot: 7/10
A slow-burn, friends-to-lovers romance with a years-long will-they-won’t-they? Sounds amazing, right? And it is, mostly. But the central conflict—the reason these two spend years avoiding their obvious feelings—is so weak that when the “big reveal” happens, it’s like… really? That’s it? The slow burn works until it starts feeling like a painfully long simmer. Also, the ending wraps up way too quickly after all that build-up, like Henry realized she was nearing her page limit and just boom—problem solved.
Intrigue: 8/10
Did I want to keep reading? Absolutely. Did I sometimes feel like I was just waiting for Poppy and Alex to finally get over themselves and do something about their feelings? Also yes. The past-and-present structure creates some intrigue, but after a while, it’s less about suspense and more about impatience. The chemistry is strong enough to hold attention, but there were a few times I wished we could just cut the fluff and get to it already.
Logic/Relationships: 7/10
Look, I buy Poppy and Alex’s chemistry. I do. But I don’t buy that they’d go this long without addressing their feelings in any meaningful way. Their miscommunication isn’t just frustrating—it’s borderline infuriating. Also, for a couple with such different life goals (Poppy wants to live a whirlwind, jet-setting life, and Alex is the human embodiment of a mortgage payment), the book doesn’t do enough to convince me they’d actually work long-term. Love is great and all, but have these two ever discussed what their life together would even look like?
Enjoyment: 8/10
Despite its flaws, this book is undeniably fun. The humor lands, the chemistry sizzles, and Henry knows how to make a romance feel earned. Sure, the pacing is uneven, the plot resolution is rushed, and the travel element is underutilized, but when it works, it works. It’s the kind of book you fly through, even when you’re rolling your eyes at the characters’ self-inflicted emotional agony. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Would I also recommend mentally preparing for a lot of miscommunication-based frustration? Oh, 100%.
Overall Score: 7.5/10
People We Meet on Vacation is a good book—maybe even a great one, depending on your tolerance for drawn-out romantic tension. It’s charming, well-written, and funny, but it also stumbles over its own pacing and logic. If you love banter-heavy, slow-burn romances with characters who take forever to get their act together, this will hit all the right notes. Just don’t expect it to reinvent the wheel—or, you know, actually make full use of its travel theme. 
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The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

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emotional inspiring mysterious reflective sad medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.75

Characters: 10/10
Oh. My. God. Evelyn Hugo is an icon, a legend, and the moment. This woman is so well-written she might as well walk off the page and slap you for doubting her. She’s messy, ambitious, manipulative, and, dare I say, completely justified in most of her terrible decisions. Every side character actually matters—Harry Cameron is perfection, Celia St. James is a rollercoaster of emotions, and even Monique, who could’ve been a forgettable stand-in, holds her own. I was emotionally compromised for days.
Atmosphere/Setting: 9/10
Old Hollywood? Scandal? Secret rendezvous? Check, check, and check. I was fully transported into the glitz and grime of Evelyn’s world, picturing every scene like it was an Oscar-winning film. The only reason this isn’t a perfect 10 is because Monique’s present-day sections weren’t as electric as Evelyn’s drama-fueled past. Not her fault—no one can compete with Evelyn—but still, I wasn’t exactly living for those parts.
Writing Style: 9/10
Taylor Jenkins Reid really said, Let me write a book you can’t put down. The prose is smooth, the dialogue is crisp, and it never felt overworked or flowery. It’s got that effortless quality that makes you forget you’re reading and just absorbing. My only nitpick? I wouldn’t have minded a little more flair in certain emotional scenes. But honestly, that’s like complaining that a diamond is slightly too shiny.
Plot: 9/10
A scandalous, slow-burn unveiling of secrets? Yes, please. Every chapter peeled back another delicious layer of Evelyn’s life, and I ate it up like a five-course meal. The pacing was solid, though some of the husbands blurred together—because let’s be real, most of them were just there for tax reasons. But the core of the story? Masterfully done. And that twist at the end? Chef’s kiss.
Intrigue: 10/10
I should’ve been doing literally anything else, but instead, I was glued to this book, fully ignoring responsibilities and basic human needs. I needed to know what would happen next, and the way the story teased out its mysteries was maddeningly good. If you can read this without obsessing over Evelyn’s every move, you’re stronger than me.
Logic/Relationships: 9/10
The relationships in this book are so well-crafted that they feel real enough to stalk on Instagram. Evelyn and Celia? Beautifully painful. Evelyn and Harry? Friendship goals. Evelyn and her seven husbands? A wild ride that somehow made perfect sense despite the sheer ridiculousness of it all. The only slight drawback is that some of the husbands felt more like plot devices than actual people, but hey, Evelyn was using them too, so maybe that’s the point.
Enjoyment: 10/10
I inhaled this book. I gossiped about it like it was real life. I considered re-reading it immediately after finishing. I have zero regrets and 100% recommend it. If you love drama, complex female leads, and the kind of storytelling that makes you feel things, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo is your next obsession. 
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Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

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dark emotional mysterious tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.25

Characters – 8/10
Alex Stern is a fantastic protagonist—morally gray, traumatized, and exactly the kind of messy heroine that makes dark academia shine. I was absolutely invested in her, but let’s be honest, she sometimes felt like she was brooding just for the sake of it. Darlington, meanwhile, had “charismatic academic heartthrob” potential but was mostly MIA, so his charm had to work overtime in flashbacks. The supporting cast? Dawes had the social skills of a houseplant, and Turner was just there to be annoyed by everything. Some of the secret society members were so indistinct they might as well have been background furniture. Still, they served their purpose, and the core relationships had enough weight to make up for the forgettable side characters.
Atmosphere/Setting – 9/10
Dark academia at its finest. Yale’s secret societies, sinister magic, ghosts lurking in the corners—it’s all deliciously eerie, and Bardugo makes sure you feel the weight of centuries-old institutions doing shady things behind closed doors. However, she also clearly loves Yale, and sometimes the setting descriptions veer into “Let me tell you about this gorgeous Gothic tower for five paragraphs” territory. A little self-indulgent? Yes. But did it work? Also yes. The book practically oozes atmosphere, even if some of it is just an excuse for Bardugo to flex her knowledge of New Haven.
Writing Style – 9/10
Bardugo knows how to write a book that feels expensive. Her prose is sleek, intelligent, and just the right amount of lyrical without going full “thesaurus attack.” Dialogue? Snappy. Descriptions? Often beautiful, though occasionally teetering on too much. The alternating timelines were an interesting choice, but sometimes they interrupted the flow rather than enhancing it. Still, I’d read just about anything she writes, because even when she’s being extra, she makes it work.
Plot – 8/10
Murder, magic, and Ivy League elitism—what’s not to love? Well… the pacing, for one. The first half meanders like a lost freshman trying to find their lecture hall, and then suddenly the second half sprints toward the finish line. The murder mystery is intriguing, but it often plays second fiddle to Alex wandering around Yale questioning her life choices. The ending felt less like a conclusion and more like a “tune in next time” sign-off, which is annoying but effective because, yeah, I will be tuning in next time.
Intrigue – 9/10
Despite the slow build-up, once I was in, I was in. The occult rituals, the secret societies, the “is Alex about to get murdered in this scene?” energy—there’s plenty here to keep you hooked. The middle of the book had a few lulls, but by the time the supernatural elements really kicked in, it was impossible to put down. There’s a constant sense of something being slightly off, and that tension is what keeps the pages turning, even when the pacing stumbles.
Logic/Relationships – 8/10
The worldbuilding is fascinating, but the magic system is a little hand-wavy at times. Like, how does half of this work? Don’t worry about it. Some of the secret society rules feel arbitrary, and Alex’s unique ability is never fully explained beyond “she can just do that.” The character relationships, on the other hand, are solid. Alex and Darlington’s academic enemies-to-maybe-something-more dynamic is fantastic even though he’s not even there most of the time. Alex and Dawes’ reluctant partnership was a pleasant surprise. The antagonists? Eh. Functional but not particularly memorable.
Enjoyment – 9/10
Even with its flaws, I had a blast with Ninth House. It’s moody, violent, atmospheric, and full of just the right amount of cynicism. Does it have pacing issues? Yes. Do some characters need more development? Absolutely. Did I still devour it like a secret society member hoarding occult knowledge? You bet. The flaws didn’t stop me from enjoying the hell out of this book, and I’ll be first in line for the sequel.
Final Verdict: 8.5/10
Ninth House is a great mix of supernatural intrigue, dark academia, and murder mystery, wrapped in a gorgeous but slightly bloated package. It stumbles a bit with pacing and underdeveloped side characters, but its atmosphere, strong protagonist, and sharp writing more than make up for it. A must-read for fans of dark academia—just be prepared for a slow start before things really get interesting. 
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Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

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adventurous dark emotional tense fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

2.25

Characters: 4/10
Violet Sorrengail is supposed to be this weak but brainy underdog, but don’t let the book fool you—she conveniently wins every life-or-death trial, making her struggle feel about as real as a reality TV show fight. Her fragile body? Not an issue, because plot armor beats bone density every time. Xaden is your standard brooding bad boy with a tragic past who somehow manages to be both infuriating and predictable. Jack, the main antagonist, is so cartoonishly evil that he might as well have a mustache to twirl. And then there’s Dain—walking proof that not all men should be childhood best friends. Secondary characters? They exist, mostly to die or make Violet look better.
Atmosphere/Setting: 5/10
Basgiath War College is basically Murder Hogwarts, but with dragons. Sounds cool, right? Well, it could have been if the world-building wasn’t so half-baked. The school’s entire philosophy is “survival of the fittest” but also, like… maybe don’t kill too many recruits because, hey, we need soldiers for this ongoing war? Consistency is optional here. The dragons? Underutilized. The war? An afterthought. The actual world outside of the school? Barely developed. If you like settings that look cool but fall apart under scrutiny, you’re in for a treat.
Writing Style: 4/10
The prose is functional, which is the nicest way I can put it. But let’s talk about the real problem: modern-sounding dialogue in a fantasy world. I get that snark is the lifeblood of this book, but having Violet drop lines that sound straight out of a 2020s Twitter thread? Yeah, that kills immersion real quick. Also, if I had a coin for every time Violet internally monologues about how weak she is despite, you know, constantly outmaneuvering and outlasting everyone, I’d be richer than this book’s publisher.
Plot: 4/10
This book is like an amusement park ride—thrilling in the moment, but the second you stop and think about it, you realize it makes no damn sense. The trials Violet faces? Arbitrary. The life-or-death stakes? Undermined by her constant success. The romantic tension? Predictable as hell. The War College structure? A logistical nightmare. I mean, why would a military academy just let their cadets kill each other willy-nilly when they need actual soldiers? Oh, and the big plot twists? If you’ve read any YA fantasy in the last decade, you saw them coming from a mile away.
Intrigue: 5/10
Yes, it’s fast-paced. Yes, it’s action-packed. But is it actually engaging when you stop being blinded by the constant movement? That’s debatable. I kept turning pages, but not necessarily because I was invested—I just wanted to see if this mess would eventually balance itself out (spoiler: it doesn’t). The story never lets you breathe or feel the weight of what’s happening because it’s too busy shoving the next dramatic moment in your face.
Logic/Relationships: 3/10
If you’re expecting well-developed relationships based on mutual respect and emotional growth, you’re in the wrong book. Xaden and Violet’s romance follows the "we hate each other but also want to rip each other's clothes off" formula without an ounce of originality. Dain spends half the book being the overprotective, condescending childhood friend no one asked for, and the rest of the cast exists to either be obstacles or cheerleaders. As for logic? There is none. The rules of the world are more flexible than Xaden’s moral compass, and the entire “dragons choose their riders” system feels like it was written on the fly.
Enjoyment: 5/10
Look, I didn’t hate it. If you turn off your brain, it’s fun in the same way that a bad action movie is—you know it’s dumb, but you’re still entertained. If you like hot, broody love interests, badass dragon battles (that we don’t get nearly enough of), and training montages where the protagonist somehow doesn’t die despite every odd stacked against her, then yeah, you’ll enjoy this. But if you’re looking for depth, logic, or actual stakes? This ain’t it. 
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