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orionmerlin's reviews
694 reviews
Myth-ion Improbable by Robert Lynn Asprin
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
Characters: 7/10
The characters in Myth-ion Improbable were entertaining and distinctive, as I’ve come to expect from Robert Lynn Asprin’s Myth series. Skeeve’s charm and relatable struggles as an apprentice magician remained a highlight, and the banter between him and his companions was lively and humorous. However, I felt that some secondary characters lacked the depth and significance I’d hoped for, which diminished their impact on the story. While I enjoyed their personalities, they didn’t always feel multidimensional, and I wasn’t as invested in their fates as I could have been.
Atmosphere/Setting: 6/10
Asprin’s signature humor and light-hearted tone were apparent throughout the story, but the settings felt somewhat generic compared to earlier installments. While I could picture the various locales, they didn’t evoke the same vivid or imaginative quality that made earlier books in the series stand out. The energy in the scenes kept the narrative moving, but the atmosphere didn’t enhance the story’s tone as effectively as it could have.
Writing Style: 8/10
The writing style was one of the book’s stronger aspects. Asprin’s knack for snappy dialogue and clever wordplay kept me entertained, and the prose was easy to follow without feeling simplistic. The balance between narration and dialogue worked well, and I found the humor engaging. While the writing didn’t quite have the sparkle of earlier books in the series, it retained a charm that kept me invested. I’d definitely explore more of Asprin’s works because his style is consistently enjoyable.
Plot: 6/10
The plot felt like a fun, standalone adventure but lacked the depth or cohesion of earlier entries in the series. The pacing was adequate, and I appreciated the occasional twist, but the overall story didn’t leave a lasting impression. It felt somewhat inconsequential, as though it was a filler episode rather than a major contribution to the overarching narrative. While I enjoyed parts of the journey, the story didn’t resonate with me as much as I’d hoped.
Intrigue: 7/10
I was entertained enough to keep reading, but I didn’t feel a strong compulsion to pick up the book whenever I had a moment. The humor and character dynamics held my attention, and I was curious to see how the adventure would play out, but the stakes never felt particularly high. This lack of tension made the book less engaging than others in the series.
Logic/Relationships: 7/10
The characters’ actions were generally consistent with their established personalities, and the rules of the world were clear enough to follow. However, the relationships and world-building felt a bit lighter than I’d expected. While the camaraderie between the main characters was enjoyable, the world’s nuances and the characters’ connections to it weren’t explored in much detail. It worked for the lighthearted tone but left the story feeling less immersive.
Enjoyment: 7/10
Overall, I enjoyed Myth-ion Improbable as a light, humorous read. It delivered the wit and charm I associate with Asprin’s writing, even if it didn’t reach the heights of earlier books in the series. I’d recommend it to fans of the Myth series or those looking for a breezy, amusing adventure, but it wasn’t a standout installment for me.
The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
Characters: 9/10
This book is basically a masterclass in making you emotionally attached to fictional people (and non-humans) way too fast. Linus Baker starts out as the quintessential rule-following bureaucrat, and by the end, he’s a whole different person—in a way that actually makes sense. The kids? Absolute scene-stealers. Every single one of them has a unique personality that sticks with you. Arthur Parnassus is suspiciously perfect, but I’ll allow it. My only minor gripe? A few side characters felt a bit like cardboard cutouts, but honestly, I didn’t care because the main cast was that good.
Atmosphere/Setting: 8.5/10
If this book doesn’t make you want to run away to a cozy little island filled with magical misfits, then I don’t know what will. The setting is whimsical but never veers into being sickly sweet. The orphanage itself is vivid, and the world-building balances the mundane with the magical in a way that feels grounded. That said, Linus’s workplace felt like the equivalent of eating plain oatmeal every morning—not exactly riveting, but it serves its purpose.
Writing Style: 8/10
Klune’s prose is charming, snarky (which I appreciate), and effortlessly engaging. The humor is on point, the dialogue is snappy, and the narration has that slightly dry wit that makes everything feel a little more alive. However, there were moments where it leaned a bit too hard into the quirky, feel-good vibes, making some scenes feel a little... polished for reality. Still, it's easy to read and super effective at getting the emotions across.
Plot: 8.5/10
Look, you’re not getting a shocking, edge-of-your-seat thriller here. This is more of a cozy journey where the biggest tension is whether Linus will learn to have a personality outside of his job. But somehow, it works. The pacing is steady, and the stakes feel personal rather than world-ending. A couple of twists are predictable, but that’s not really the point—the heart of the story is in the relationships and growth, and that part delivers.
Intrigue: 9/10
I wasn’t glued to the book because of the plot—I was hooked because I needed to see how these characters’ lives would unfold. Every interaction between Linus and the kids pulled me in, and I was genuinely invested in how things would turn out. The mystery surrounding Arthur kept things interesting, even if it wasn’t the most shocking reveal in the world.
Logic/Relationships: 8/10
For a book about magical children and a government department with shades of dystopian bureaucracy, this actually held together really well. The relationships felt earned—Linus’s slow shift from skeptical rule-follower to fiercely protective dad figure was beautifully done. Some world-building elements, especially regarding how society treats magical beings, could have used a bit more depth, but overall, nothing threw me out of the story.
Enjoyment: 9/10
This book is like a warm hug, a good cup of tea, or petting a cat that actually likes you. It’s funny, heartfelt, and uplifting without feeling saccharine. Did I tear up? Maybe. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. If you want something hopeful with just the right amount of emotional gut punches, this is your book.
Overall: 8.6/10
This book is great. Not flawless, but it hits all the right emotional beats. If you love found family, dry humor, and a bit of magical whimsy, you’re in for a treat.
A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas
adventurous
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? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
Characters: 6/10
Feyre is supposed to be this hardened survivor, but the second she steps into fae territory, she turns into a lovestruck deer in headlights. Tamlin is about as exciting as a wet sponge—broody, protective, and shockingly bland. Lucien at least has a personality (and some sarcasm), but the rest? Nesta is violently unlikable, Elain is a walking flower arrangement, and Amarantha is so cartoonishly evil she might as well be twirling a mustache. Would it have killed Maas to add some real depth to these people?
Atmosphere/Setting: 7/10
Prythian should feel like a rich, immersive world, but instead, we get the most Pinterest-core Spring Court imaginable. Enchanted woods? Check. Fancy dresses? Check. Brooding fae lord with a tragic backstory? Triple check. The setting has moments of brilliance—especially under the mountain—but it leans heavily on generic fantasy aesthetics without really making them fresh.
Writing Style: 6/10
Maas loves describing things. A lot. And then she describes them again, just in case you missed it the first time. The prose is easy to read but bogged down by overused phrases, dramatic ellipses, and some truly questionable word choices (mate, anyone?). The dialogue sometimes sounds like it came straight from a fantasy soap opera, and the attempts at sensuality feel like they were written for someone’s teenage self-insert fanfiction.
Plot: 5/10
The first half of this book is Beauty and the Beast, but make it fae. The second half suddenly remembers it needs stakes and throws Feyre into a random set of "deadly" trials. The pacing is all over the place—too slow in the beginning, too rushed at the end, and full of filler in between. Also, the big twist? Laughably predictable. If you’ve read literally any fantasy book before, you’ll see it coming from a mile away.
Intrigue: 6/10
Did I need to keep reading? Not really. Did I? Yes, but mostly because I was waiting for something interesting to happen. There are intriguing elements—the fae courts, the mystery of the blight—but they take a backseat to a romance that has the chemistry of a damp matchstick. The last third of the book finally wakes up and throws in some action, but by then, I was already side-eyeing the plot holes too hard to be fully invested.
Logic/Relationships: 5/10
Feyre and Tamlin’s relationship is basically “he’s hot, so I forgive the major red flags.” Lucien deserved better than being a sidekick with occasional sass. The world-building makes no sense—we’re told humans fear fae, yet Feyre is just casually hunting in their territory? The magic system is conveniently vague, and the Treaty’s "kill a fae, live in Prythian forever" clause? Literally fabricated. Turns out Tamlin was just kidnapping a human woman to try and break his curse. It’s not even a plot hole, just insultingly contrived.
Enjoyment: 5/10
Did I have fun? Sure, but in the way you enjoy a trashy reality show—you know it’s a mess, but you can’t look away. It’s the kind of book you read when you want romance with fantasy elements, not fantasy with romance elements. If you’re into angsty fae boys and don’t mind the occasional eye-roll, go for it. If you want something actually groundbreaking, maybe look elsewhere.
Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Characters: 9/10
Kya is an unforgettable force of nature—literally. She’s a walking embodiment of resilience, solitude, and marsh-wisdom, making her one of the most compelling protagonists I’ve read. The side characters? They do their jobs well. Tate is sweet, Jumpin’ is a gem, and Chase is exactly as slimy as he needs to be. The townies are gloriously small-minded, which makes it easy to root against them. Everyone serves a purpose, and no one feels like unnecessary filler.
Kya is an unforgettable force of nature—literally. She’s a walking embodiment of resilience, solitude, and marsh-wisdom, making her one of the most compelling protagonists I’ve read. The side characters? They do their jobs well. Tate is sweet, Jumpin’ is a gem, and Chase is exactly as slimy as he needs to be. The townies are gloriously small-minded, which makes it easy to root against them. Everyone serves a purpose, and no one feels like unnecessary filler.
Atmosphere/Setting: 10/10
If Delia Owens wanted me to consider ditching civilization to go live in a shack by the marsh, mission accomplished. The setting is practically its own character—lush, haunting, and breathtakingly detailed. The way Owens describes nature makes you want to grab a boat and start collecting feathers. I could practically hear the cicadas and smell the salt air.
If Delia Owens wanted me to consider ditching civilization to go live in a shack by the marsh, mission accomplished. The setting is practically its own character—lush, haunting, and breathtakingly detailed. The way Owens describes nature makes you want to grab a boat and start collecting feathers. I could practically hear the cicadas and smell the salt air.
Writing Style: 9/10
Owens writes like a poet who fell in love with the wilderness and decided the rest of us needed to get on her level. The prose is rich, evocative, and downright stunning at times. Sure, she can get a little indulgent with descriptions (did we need that much marsh-talk?), but honestly, I didn’t mind. The dialogue is realistic, and the balance of narration and action works well. It’s lyrical without veering into purple-prose territory.
Owens writes like a poet who fell in love with the wilderness and decided the rest of us needed to get on her level. The prose is rich, evocative, and downright stunning at times. Sure, she can get a little indulgent with descriptions (did we need that much marsh-talk?), but honestly, I didn’t mind. The dialogue is realistic, and the balance of narration and action works well. It’s lyrical without veering into purple-prose territory.
Plot: 8/10
The dual timeline structure keeps things interesting, and I was hooked on both Kya’s coming-of-age saga and the murder mystery. However, some parts feel a tad predictable, and the big reveal at the end isn’t as shocking as the book seems to think it is. That said, the pacing is mostly solid, and the story delivers enough intrigue to keep the pages turning.
The dual timeline structure keeps things interesting, and I was hooked on both Kya’s coming-of-age saga and the murder mystery. However, some parts feel a tad predictable, and the big reveal at the end isn’t as shocking as the book seems to think it is. That said, the pacing is mostly solid, and the story delivers enough intrigue to keep the pages turning.
Intrigue: 9/10
It’s the kind of book that makes you ignore responsibilities and read until 2 a.m. The mystery, Kya’s survival, her relationships, and the sheer injustice of her situation keep the tension high. Even in the slower sections, I wanted to keep going. No lulls long enough to break the spell.
It’s the kind of book that makes you ignore responsibilities and read until 2 a.m. The mystery, Kya’s survival, her relationships, and the sheer injustice of her situation keep the tension high. Even in the slower sections, I wanted to keep going. No lulls long enough to break the spell.
Logic/Relationships: 9/10
The relationships, especially between Kya and Tate, feel genuine and well-developed. The town’s ostracization of Kya is both believable and infuriating—because, of course, small-town folk would rather whisper about a “swamp girl” than offer basic human kindness. The legal aspects of the trial could have been tighter, but it wasn’t egregious enough to ruin the tension. A few moments push the bounds of believability, but nothing too outrageous.
The relationships, especially between Kya and Tate, feel genuine and well-developed. The town’s ostracization of Kya is both believable and infuriating—because, of course, small-town folk would rather whisper about a “swamp girl” than offer basic human kindness. The legal aspects of the trial could have been tighter, but it wasn’t egregious enough to ruin the tension. A few moments push the bounds of believability, but nothing too outrageous.
Enjoyment: 10/10
This book absolutely delivers. It’s emotional, immersive, and the kind of novel that lingers long after you close it. Even when I was rolling my eyes at some of the more dramatic moments, I was still 100% invested. Would I recommend it? Oh, without a doubt. Would I reread it? Probably, while sitting on a beach pretending I’m Kya.
This book absolutely delivers. It’s emotional, immersive, and the kind of novel that lingers long after you close it. Even when I was rolling my eyes at some of the more dramatic moments, I was still 100% invested. Would I recommend it? Oh, without a doubt. Would I reread it? Probably, while sitting on a beach pretending I’m Kya.
Final Verdict:
A beautifully written, atmospheric novel with a compelling protagonist, a solid mystery, and a setting so vivid you’ll want to move there (minus the murder). A must-read for anyone who loves lyrical writing, nature, and an underdog story with a satisfying, if somewhat predictable, conclusion.
A beautifully written, atmospheric novel with a compelling protagonist, a solid mystery, and a setting so vivid you’ll want to move there (minus the murder). A must-read for anyone who loves lyrical writing, nature, and an underdog story with a satisfying, if somewhat predictable, conclusion.
Redshirts by John Scalzi
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.0
Characters – 4/10
The crew of Redshirts isn't so much a group of characters as they are sock puppets waving around to make Scalzi’s meta-commentary dance. Ensign Andrew Dahl has all the personality of a wet paper towel, and his equally bland teammates exist solely to spit out quippy dialogue and react to the hilarious revelation that they’re fictional. Lieutenant Kerensky, the designated punching bag, is amusing in the way a joke is funny the first time—less so by the hundredth. This book treats character development like an optional DLC and then wonders why no one cares what happens to these people.
The crew of Redshirts isn't so much a group of characters as they are sock puppets waving around to make Scalzi’s meta-commentary dance. Ensign Andrew Dahl has all the personality of a wet paper towel, and his equally bland teammates exist solely to spit out quippy dialogue and react to the hilarious revelation that they’re fictional. Lieutenant Kerensky, the designated punching bag, is amusing in the way a joke is funny the first time—less so by the hundredth. This book treats character development like an optional DLC and then wonders why no one cares what happens to these people.
Atmosphere/Setting – 3/10
The Intrepid is less of a spaceship and more of a half-hearted Star Trek set that someone forgot to finish painting. Instead of feeling like a real, lived-in world, it exists purely to prop up the book’s meta hijinks. The absurd death toll is supposed to be funny, but since the setting is about as immersive as a cheap TV backdrop, it just feels like a gag that overstays its welcome. Scalzi couldn’t be bothered with world-building beyond what was strictly necessary for the joke, which makes for a sci-fi universe that’s about as deep as a kiddie pool.
The Intrepid is less of a spaceship and more of a half-hearted Star Trek set that someone forgot to finish painting. Instead of feeling like a real, lived-in world, it exists purely to prop up the book’s meta hijinks. The absurd death toll is supposed to be funny, but since the setting is about as immersive as a cheap TV backdrop, it just feels like a gag that overstays its welcome. Scalzi couldn’t be bothered with world-building beyond what was strictly necessary for the joke, which makes for a sci-fi universe that’s about as deep as a kiddie pool.
Writing Style – 5/10
Scalzi’s prose does the job. That’s about the nicest thing you can say about it. His love affair with dialogue turns the whole book into something that reads less like a novel and more like an overlong TV script—one where every character sounds like they’re delivering punchlines instead of actual conversations. Descriptions are minimal to the point of being nonexistent, and while the fast pace makes for an easy read, it also means there’s no weight to anything. If you like your books snappy but utterly devoid of depth, you’ll be right at home.
Scalzi’s prose does the job. That’s about the nicest thing you can say about it. His love affair with dialogue turns the whole book into something that reads less like a novel and more like an overlong TV script—one where every character sounds like they’re delivering punchlines instead of actual conversations. Descriptions are minimal to the point of being nonexistent, and while the fast pace makes for an easy read, it also means there’s no weight to anything. If you like your books snappy but utterly devoid of depth, you’ll be right at home.
Plot – 4/10
The premise? Fantastic. The execution? Not so much. The book starts off strong with an intriguing mystery—then promptly fumbles the bag by revealing everything too soon and running out of steam. By the time the characters break into the real world to confront their puppet masters, the whole thing feels like it’s speedrunning its own conclusion. And those codas at the end? They desperately want to add emotional weight to the story, but it’s hard to get misty-eyed over characters who barely had personalities to begin with. The whole thing is a great idea shackled to a mediocre execution.
The premise? Fantastic. The execution? Not so much. The book starts off strong with an intriguing mystery—then promptly fumbles the bag by revealing everything too soon and running out of steam. By the time the characters break into the real world to confront their puppet masters, the whole thing feels like it’s speedrunning its own conclusion. And those codas at the end? They desperately want to add emotional weight to the story, but it’s hard to get misty-eyed over characters who barely had personalities to begin with. The whole thing is a great idea shackled to a mediocre execution.
Intrigue – 5/10
For the first few chapters, the book keeps you hooked with its central mystery. Then, once the characters figure out what’s going on, it turns into a dull meta-spiral where the same joke is repeated ad nauseam. The stakes are nonexistent, the humor starts wearing thin, and because none of the characters feel remotely real, there’s no emotional investment to be found. By the time the book lumbers toward its conclusion, you’re left wondering if this whole thing was meant to be read in one sitting before you noticed how little is actually happening.
For the first few chapters, the book keeps you hooked with its central mystery. Then, once the characters figure out what’s going on, it turns into a dull meta-spiral where the same joke is repeated ad nauseam. The stakes are nonexistent, the humor starts wearing thin, and because none of the characters feel remotely real, there’s no emotional investment to be found. By the time the book lumbers toward its conclusion, you’re left wondering if this whole thing was meant to be read in one sitting before you noticed how little is actually happening.
Logic/Relationships – 3/10
The so-called “rules” of the Narrative are about as coherent as a Wikipedia summary of a bad time travel movie. They change whenever the plot needs them to, and characters gain or lose awareness on a whim. Dahl’s “romance” is so weak that you could cut it entirely, and no one would notice. Meanwhile, relationships between characters are surface-level at best, existing only to move the plot along or explain the next meta joke. The book is all concept, no cohesion.
The so-called “rules” of the Narrative are about as coherent as a Wikipedia summary of a bad time travel movie. They change whenever the plot needs them to, and characters gain or lose awareness on a whim. Dahl’s “romance” is so weak that you could cut it entirely, and no one would notice. Meanwhile, relationships between characters are surface-level at best, existing only to move the plot along or explain the next meta joke. The book is all concept, no cohesion.
Enjoyment – 4/10
Redshirts is the literary equivalent of a clever tweet—fun for a second, but not something you build an entire novel around. The humor occasionally lands, but the lack of depth in every other aspect drags the whole thing down. If you’re looking for a meaningful sci-fi story, look elsewhere. If you’re here for a smart, biting satire, well…this one barely leaves a scratch. It’s a quick read, but by the end, you’ll probably just wish it had been a short story instead.
Redshirts is the literary equivalent of a clever tweet—fun for a second, but not something you build an entire novel around. The humor occasionally lands, but the lack of depth in every other aspect drags the whole thing down. If you’re looking for a meaningful sci-fi story, look elsewhere. If you’re here for a smart, biting satire, well…this one barely leaves a scratch. It’s a quick read, but by the end, you’ll probably just wish it had been a short story instead.
Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas
emotional
funny
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
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? Yes
3.5
Characters: 7.5/10
The characters were a mixed bag—some great, some… not so much. Yadriel’s journey was compelling, sure, but did we really need to hear about his frustration on repeat? We get it, dude, your family doesn’t accept you—until they suddenly, miraculously do, with barely any struggle. Julian was a riot, full of chaotic energy and charm, but let’s be real: his personality did a lot of heavy lifting where actual character depth should’ve been. His love story with Yadriel? Cute, but it went from ghostly meet-cute to full-blown romance at breakneck speed. And poor Maritza—she was delightful, but the plot treated her like a set piece rather than a person. As for the rest of Yadriel’s family? Cardboard cutouts with “Obstacle” written on them in Sharpie.
Atmosphere/Setting: 7/10
A book set in a cemetery should feel eerie and atmospheric, right? Well, kind of. The Día de Muertos details were a highlight, but the setting itself wasn’t nearly as immersive as it could have been. The brujx traditions? Super intriguing, but the book barely scratched the surface, treating them more like cool decorations than a fleshed-out system of magic. And the supposed “danger” surrounding Miguel’s disappearance? About as intense as a mildly suspenseful episode of Scooby-Doo. Also, LA was there, I guess? The city setting could’ve added contrast to Yadriel’s magical world, but instead, it just kind of…existed in the background.
Writing Style: 7/10
The prose was easy to read and emotionally charged, but holy exposition dump, Batman. Instead of letting emotions unfold naturally, the book loved to spell them out, sometimes multiple times in case we missed it the first dozen. And Julian’s nonstop quips? Cute at first, grating by the end. The pacing was all over the place—some moments dragged on like a school lecture, while others (like, I don’t know, the actual climax) zoomed by like the book was late for an appointment. Despite all this, there was heart in the writing, even if it wasn’t always the most polished execution.
Plot: 6.5/10
A missing person mystery should be thrilling, but instead, most of the plot’s answers practically walked up to Yadriel, tapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Hey, here I am.” The stakes felt surprisingly low, and the big twist? Yeah, saw that coming a mile away. Julian’s whole refusal-to-move-on thing felt more like a convenient way to keep him around than an actual emotional struggle. And that romance—look, it was cute, but it went from zero to soulmates so fast I got whiplash. The ending wrapped things up way too neatly, making Yadriel’s struggles feel like they were barely struggles at all.
Intrigue: 8/10
Despite all its flaws, the book was engaging. The blend of mystery, romance, and cultural elements kept things moving, even if some parts were frustrating. The Yadriel-Julian dynamic was fun, if not exactly deep. The mystery could’ve had higher stakes, but Yadriel’s emotional arc helped fill some of that gap. That said, the pacing sagged in the middle—dragging in some places, rushing in others—but hey, at least it wasn’t boring.
Logic/Relationships: 6.5/10
This is where things got messy. The magic system? Vague at best, inconsistent at worst. It was there, but good luck figuring out exactly how it worked. And Yadriel’s struggle with his family? Built up for most of the book only to be magically solved when the plot needed it to be. Julian’s backstory could have been fascinating, but the book only gave us crumbs. The antagonist? Yawn. His motivations were weak, and the final confrontation felt more like an afterthought than a satisfying climax. And the romance? Adorable, sure, but it leaned way too hard on “they’re stuck together, so obviously they fall in love” instead of actual chemistry.
Enjoyment: 7/10
Look, Cemetery Boys was fun—it just wasn’t great. The LGBTQ+ and Latinx representation? Fantastic. The emotional heart of the book? Solid. But the world-building was thin, the mystery lacked tension, and the resolution was way too convenient. Still, if you’re looking for a fun, diverse paranormal romance that doesn’t require too much scrutiny, this one’s worth a read. Just don’t expect it to haunt you after you’re done.
A Sorceress Comes to Call by T. Kingfisher
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
tense
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
Kingfisher absolutely nails character work—especially with Cordelia, who’s caught in the kind of maternal nightmare that would make therapy bills skyrocket. Evangeline is the kind of villain that makes you want to physically fling the book across the room out of sheer frustration (which is, of course, a testament to how well she’s written). Hester is the much-needed voice of reason in the chaos, and even the secondary characters hold their own—though, let’s be real, some of them could’ve used a bit more page time. Cordelia’s journey from “compliance is survival” to “actually, screw this” was gripping from start to finish.
Kingfisher absolutely nails character work—especially with Cordelia, who’s caught in the kind of maternal nightmare that would make therapy bills skyrocket. Evangeline is the kind of villain that makes you want to physically fling the book across the room out of sheer frustration (which is, of course, a testament to how well she’s written). Hester is the much-needed voice of reason in the chaos, and even the secondary characters hold their own—though, let’s be real, some of them could’ve used a bit more page time. Cordelia’s journey from “compliance is survival” to “actually, screw this” was gripping from start to finish.
Atmosphere/Setting: 9/10
The gothic vibes in this book are immaculate. Cordelia’s house is so suffocating you can practically feel the walls closing in, while Chatham House provides just enough contrast to keep you from losing your mind entirely. And let’s not forget the ever-present creep factor—Falada’s eerie presence, the scent of wormwood, and the overwhelming sense that something awful is lurking just out of sight. Sure, there are a few moments where the tension loses a little steam, but overall, the setting does exactly what it’s supposed to: make you deeply uncomfortable in the best way.
The gothic vibes in this book are immaculate. Cordelia’s house is so suffocating you can practically feel the walls closing in, while Chatham House provides just enough contrast to keep you from losing your mind entirely. And let’s not forget the ever-present creep factor—Falada’s eerie presence, the scent of wormwood, and the overwhelming sense that something awful is lurking just out of sight. Sure, there are a few moments where the tension loses a little steam, but overall, the setting does exactly what it’s supposed to: make you deeply uncomfortable in the best way.
Writing Style: 9/10
Kingfisher’s prose strikes that perfect balance between elegant and readable—none of that “overwritten gothic novel” nonsense here. The dialogue is sharp, the narration is fluid, and the emotional beats hit hard without ever feeling forced. Sure, the pacing occasionally drags when things get a little too introspective, but honestly? The writing is so consistently good that it’s hard to care. If this is what Kingfisher does with gothic horror, I’ll happily read whatever she writes next, even if it’s her grocery list.
Kingfisher’s prose strikes that perfect balance between elegant and readable—none of that “overwritten gothic novel” nonsense here. The dialogue is sharp, the narration is fluid, and the emotional beats hit hard without ever feeling forced. Sure, the pacing occasionally drags when things get a little too introspective, but honestly? The writing is so consistently good that it’s hard to care. If this is what Kingfisher does with gothic horror, I’ll happily read whatever she writes next, even if it’s her grocery list.
Plot: 8.5/10
This is one of those stories that simmers before it boils over, which mostly works in its favor—except when it doesn’t. The slow-burn tension is masterfully handled, making every reveal feel earned. But let’s be honest: the middle section could’ve used a little caffeine. Some parts dragged just enough to make me check how many pages were left. That being said, the final act slaps—twists land, payoffs hit, and it all comes together in a way that makes the slower sections feel worth it.
This is one of those stories that simmers before it boils over, which mostly works in its favor—except when it doesn’t. The slow-burn tension is masterfully handled, making every reveal feel earned. But let’s be honest: the middle section could’ve used a little caffeine. Some parts dragged just enough to make me check how many pages were left. That being said, the final act slaps—twists land, payoffs hit, and it all comes together in a way that makes the slower sections feel worth it.
Intrigue: 9/10
You ever start a book thinking you’ll just read a chapter before bed, and then suddenly it’s 3 a.m. and you’re contemplating life choices? Yeah, this is that kind of book. The sheer psychological horror of Cordelia’s situation, the gradual descent into dread, and the gnawing need to see how it all unravels kept me hooked. Even when the pacing slowed, the eerie, oppressive tension never let up. The best part? This book doesn’t just entertain—it lingers.
You ever start a book thinking you’ll just read a chapter before bed, and then suddenly it’s 3 a.m. and you’re contemplating life choices? Yeah, this is that kind of book. The sheer psychological horror of Cordelia’s situation, the gradual descent into dread, and the gnawing need to see how it all unravels kept me hooked. Even when the pacing slowed, the eerie, oppressive tension never let up. The best part? This book doesn’t just entertain—it lingers.
Logic/Relationships: 9/10
The relationships in this book are top-tier in the “oh no, this is deeply messed up” kind of way. Cordelia and her mother’s dynamic is a masterclass in psychological horror—equal parts terrifying and tragically believable. Falada’s big reveal? Gut-wrenching. The way Kingfisher establishes the rules of magic is subtle but rock-solid; she doesn’t spoon-feed the reader, but she also doesn’t leave you floundering in a sea of vague nonsense. If anything, I just wanted more—more exploration of the magic system, more insight into how it shapes the world beyond Cordelia’s nightmare of a household.
The relationships in this book are top-tier in the “oh no, this is deeply messed up” kind of way. Cordelia and her mother’s dynamic is a masterclass in psychological horror—equal parts terrifying and tragically believable. Falada’s big reveal? Gut-wrenching. The way Kingfisher establishes the rules of magic is subtle but rock-solid; she doesn’t spoon-feed the reader, but she also doesn’t leave you floundering in a sea of vague nonsense. If anything, I just wanted more—more exploration of the magic system, more insight into how it shapes the world beyond Cordelia’s nightmare of a household.
Enjoyment: 9.5/10
Look, I devoured this book. The gothic horror elements, the twisted family dynamics, the creeping dread—it all worked. Sure, the pacing had its hiccups, but at no point did I consider not finishing it. The emotional depth, the unnerving atmosphere, and the sheer quality of the writing make this a book I’ll be shoving into people’s hands for years to come. It’s not quite perfect, but it’s damn close. If you love gothic fantasy that actually delivers on its eerie premise, you need this in your life.
Look, I devoured this book. The gothic horror elements, the twisted family dynamics, the creeping dread—it all worked. Sure, the pacing had its hiccups, but at no point did I consider not finishing it. The emotional depth, the unnerving atmosphere, and the sheer quality of the writing make this a book I’ll be shoving into people’s hands for years to come. It’s not quite perfect, but it’s damn close. If you love gothic fantasy that actually delivers on its eerie premise, you need this in your life.
The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon
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
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Gore, Infertility, Miscarriage, Torture, Violence, Blood, Religious bigotry, Murder, War, and Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Alcoholism, Animal death, Child death, Confinement, Emotional abuse, Homophobia, Infidelity, Misogyny, Sexual content, Suicidal thoughts, Xenophobia, Medical content, Kidnapping, Grief, Medical trauma, Death of parent, Pregnancy, Fire/Fire injury, Gaslighting, Alcohol, Classism, and Pandemic/Epidemic
Minor: Addiction, Bullying, Cursing, Genocide, Incest, Physical abuse, Racism, Self harm, Sexism, Slavery, Terminal illness, Toxic relationship, Forced institutionalization, Dementia, Suicide attempt, Outing, and Abandonment
This book contains mature themes, including war, political intrigue, and discrimination, but balances them with themes of resilience, courage, and hope. The LGBTQ+ representation is handled well and integrated naturally into the world. While there are dark elements, the book does not dwell excessively on them, making it intense but not overwhelmingly grim.
They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera
emotional
hopeful
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
4.0
Characters – 8/10
Mateo and Rufus? Solid. One’s a socially anxious turtle slowly crawling out of his shell, and the other’s got that tough-guy-with-a-heart-of-gold thing going on. Groundbreaking? Not really. But did I care about them? Absolutely. Mateo’s transformation from shut-in to carpe-diem poster child felt a bit like it was on fast-forward, but it worked well enough. Rufus had depth, even if he was a little too on-brand. The side characters, though? Some were great, others felt like they were just there to make sure the plot didn't collapse on itself. Would I lose sleep over their fates? Probably not.
Atmosphere/Setting – 7/10
Death-Cast is a cool idea. You get a phone call telling you you’re going to die, and then… what? Shrug and hope for the best? The book never really explains how this whole system works, which is frustrating if you think about it for too long. But okay, fine. The NYC setting is vivid, and the emotional beats land when they need to. Some scenes hit hard; others feel like they’re trying too hard. Still, the theme of "do something before you die" comes through loud and clear.
Writing Style – 8/10
Silvera knows how to tug on heartstrings, I’ll give him that. The prose is easy to digest, the emotions are laid on thick (sometimes a little too thick), and the dual perspectives keep things moving. That said, Mateo and Rufus’s voices blend together at times—one’s supposed to be a poetic introvert, the other a hardened realist, but sometimes they sound like the same person with slightly different trauma. It’s good writing, but not exactly revolutionary.
Plot – 8/10
A death-predicting service is a killer premise (pun intended), and the book delivers some gut-punch moments. But the pacing? A little all over the place. Some parts drag, others feel like they’re in a hurry to hit you in the feels. The whole Rufus vs. Peck subplot? Totally unnecessary. And while the ending should have been a given (it’s literally in the title), it still felt like it was nudging me too hard, like, “Hey, did you get the irony?” Yeah, we got it.
Intrigue – 9/10
Even when the book fumbled a bit, I had to know how it would all play out. Was it suspenseful? Not really—the whole "they both die" thing makes sure of that—but it was engaging. The emotional stakes were high, and the way the story explored fate, love, and human connection kept me flipping pages.
Logic/Relationships – 7/10
The insta-bond between Mateo and Rufus makes sense because, well, they have less than 24 hours to get their lives together. But the romance? It felt a bit like it was on express shipping. Also, Death-Cast’s rules make zero sense. Do they know how you die? Do they just guess? Is this whole thing an elaborate scam? Who knows. The relationships were touching, though, and I bought into them—even when the world-building left me side-eyeing the logistics.
Enjoyment – 8/10
Despite its flaws, the book delivers. It’s emotional, thought-provoking, and hits that sweet spot between speculative fiction and contemporary drama. Sure, some things could’ve been stronger, but it still sticks with you after you turn the last page. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Just don’t think too hard about Death-Cast, or you might break the whole illusion.
The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
adventurous
mysterious
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.5
Characters: 9/10
The characters in The Night Circus are undeniably memorable—Celia and Marco radiate the kind of slow-burn intrigue that makes you actually care about their magical duel, rather than rolling your eyes at another forced romance. Secondary characters like Chandresh, Tsukiko, and the ever-charming Poppet and Widget don’t just fill space; they bring their own flair and mystery, making the whole story feel richer. Morgenstern clearly understood that having interesting people (or eerily enigmatic ones) would make this book sing, and she nailed it. You could easily describe each of them without resorting to generic "protagonist" tropes, which is a rarity.
The characters in The Night Circus are undeniably memorable—Celia and Marco radiate the kind of slow-burn intrigue that makes you actually care about their magical duel, rather than rolling your eyes at another forced romance. Secondary characters like Chandresh, Tsukiko, and the ever-charming Poppet and Widget don’t just fill space; they bring their own flair and mystery, making the whole story feel richer. Morgenstern clearly understood that having interesting people (or eerily enigmatic ones) would make this book sing, and she nailed it. You could easily describe each of them without resorting to generic "protagonist" tropes, which is a rarity.
Atmosphere/Setting: 10/10
This is where The Night Circus absolutely flexes on every other book that wishes it could create an immersive world. The descriptions are so lush and vivid that you’ll practically smell the caramel popcorn and hear the rustling of the black-and-white tents. The circus isn’t just a setting—it’s a whole mood, a character in itself, and the kind of place you’d give up your mundane existence to visit. The dreamlike quality of the writing makes it all the more intoxicating, and frankly, it’s one of the best depictions of a magical world out there.
This is where The Night Circus absolutely flexes on every other book that wishes it could create an immersive world. The descriptions are so lush and vivid that you’ll practically smell the caramel popcorn and hear the rustling of the black-and-white tents. The circus isn’t just a setting—it’s a whole mood, a character in itself, and the kind of place you’d give up your mundane existence to visit. The dreamlike quality of the writing makes it all the more intoxicating, and frankly, it’s one of the best depictions of a magical world out there.
Writing Style: 9/10
Morgenstern’s prose is straight-up enchanting. Lush, poetic, and immersive, it drags you into this world whether you’re ready or not. It’s heavy on the descriptions, sure, but that’s kind of the point—if you want snappy, action-heavy storytelling, go read something else. The balance tilts toward atmosphere over pace, and while it might be a bit much for the impatient reader, those who love lyrical writing will eat this up. This book isn’t just a story; it’s an experience, and her prose makes sure you feel that.
Morgenstern’s prose is straight-up enchanting. Lush, poetic, and immersive, it drags you into this world whether you’re ready or not. It’s heavy on the descriptions, sure, but that’s kind of the point—if you want snappy, action-heavy storytelling, go read something else. The balance tilts toward atmosphere over pace, and while it might be a bit much for the impatient reader, those who love lyrical writing will eat this up. This book isn’t just a story; it’s an experience, and her prose makes sure you feel that.
Plot: 8.5/10
Look, if you’re here for a high-stakes, adrenaline-fueled showdown, you’re in the wrong circus tent. The plot is more of a graceful waltz than a sprint, unfolding with the kind of slow-burning elegance that matches its ethereal tone. The whole "competition" element isn’t as cutthroat as it sounds, but it serves its purpose well. Twists? Subtle. Stakes? More emotional and existential than action-packed. Does the pacing sometimes meander? Sure. But if you can appreciate a story that takes its time, the journey is absolutely worth it.
Look, if you’re here for a high-stakes, adrenaline-fueled showdown, you’re in the wrong circus tent. The plot is more of a graceful waltz than a sprint, unfolding with the kind of slow-burning elegance that matches its ethereal tone. The whole "competition" element isn’t as cutthroat as it sounds, but it serves its purpose well. Twists? Subtle. Stakes? More emotional and existential than action-packed. Does the pacing sometimes meander? Sure. But if you can appreciate a story that takes its time, the journey is absolutely worth it.
Intrigue: 9/10
This book is hypnotic. Even when the plot slows down, the sheer vibe keeps you hooked. There’s this constant, tantalizing sense of mystery—both in the world itself and the unfolding relationships—that makes you want to keep peeling back the layers. The circus is an enigma, the characters hold secrets, and every reveal feels like you’re being let in on something special. It’s the kind of book that lingers in your mind long after you’ve put it down, which is a testament to its allure.
This book is hypnotic. Even when the plot slows down, the sheer vibe keeps you hooked. There’s this constant, tantalizing sense of mystery—both in the world itself and the unfolding relationships—that makes you want to keep peeling back the layers. The circus is an enigma, the characters hold secrets, and every reveal feels like you’re being let in on something special. It’s the kind of book that lingers in your mind long after you’ve put it down, which is a testament to its allure.
Logic/Relationships: 8.5/10
Celia and Marco’s relationship is less "burning passion" and more "poetic inevitability," which fits the tone perfectly but might leave some readers wanting a little more... tangible interaction. They’re romantic, sure, but in that dreamlike, destined way that makes it feel more like a fairy tale than a deep emotional connection. The worldbuilding plays by its own mystical rules, which mostly works—though if you like having every magical element logically explained, you might find yourself squinting at a few details. Still, within its own whimsical framework, everything feels right.
Celia and Marco’s relationship is less "burning passion" and more "poetic inevitability," which fits the tone perfectly but might leave some readers wanting a little more... tangible interaction. They’re romantic, sure, but in that dreamlike, destined way that makes it feel more like a fairy tale than a deep emotional connection. The worldbuilding plays by its own mystical rules, which mostly works—though if you like having every magical element logically explained, you might find yourself squinting at a few details. Still, within its own whimsical framework, everything feels right.
Enjoyment: 9.5/10
I loved The Night Circus. It’s the literary equivalent of stepping into a beautifully crafted illusion—you know it’s not real, but you want to believe in it anyway. If you’re the kind of reader who enjoys a book for its sheer atmosphere and poetic execution, you’re in for a treat. If you need a fast-paced, tightly structured plot to stay engaged, you might get restless. But for those who appreciate a book that prioritizes enchantment over exposition, this one’s a gem. Consider me officially obsessed.
I loved The Night Circus. It’s the literary equivalent of stepping into a beautifully crafted illusion—you know it’s not real, but you want to believe in it anyway. If you’re the kind of reader who enjoys a book for its sheer atmosphere and poetic execution, you’re in for a treat. If you need a fast-paced, tightly structured plot to stay engaged, you might get restless. But for those who appreciate a book that prioritizes enchantment over exposition, this one’s a gem. Consider me officially obsessed.