"Everyone believes their own cause is noble."

"Then may everyone do what they must to win."

Epic, beautiful, devastating—I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that The Poet Empress might just be the best historical fantasy I've ever read. And it's possible my heart may never recover.

It feels like I've been waiting all my life for this story. When you're raised on Chinese mythology, imperial dramas, and Zhang Yimou films, it's only natural to want more and better. And before anyone points me to Romance of the Three Kingdoms, I confess I craved something a little more contemporary (and a little less intimidating). So of course along comes Shen Tao to deliver everything I've ever wanted, right in her debut.

From the first page, I knew this was going to be something special. The writing is so sharp and vivid, it immediately drew me in to Wei and her plight. To be hungry and poor is her destiny and the destiny of everyone in her village. So when the opportunity arises to be concubine to the crown prince himself, what could Wei do but reach for it with both hands. She understands that to gain anything, she must first suffer. And so starts her journey into the scheming, treacherous Inner Court of the Azalea House.

So long as I was never hungry again, they could do to me anything they pleased.

What follows is a tale brimming with so much strength and resilience, and so much hope. I love strong female characters, and Wei is exactly that personified. She faces so much hardship, yet through sheer determination and cleverness, she overcomes it again and again. To cheer for Wei is to cheer for all the stories out there about little girls conquering insurmountable odds to bring nations and dynasties to their knees, and I'm so there for that.

I think one of the things that makes this story so riveting is that there is so much on the line. There is danger and death around every corner, and Shen Tao doesn't shy away from bringing the darker elements onto the pages. I often complain about low stakes ruining a story, so it's thrilling to read a book where the stakes are so high and the cost of failure so unthinkable that my heart was in my throat the whole time.

But Wei isn't perfect. In fact, no character in here is. And the exploration and revelation of every hero and every villain's good and evil is one of the most interesting aspects in this story. There are no good paths on the road to victory, only agonizing choices, so to lose bits and pieces of one's heart and soul is but a foregone conclusion. And this nuanced and complex characterization is at the center of this immersive tale's appeal.

It's also worth mentioning that this is a standalone, which I am a huge fan of. At a time when the fantasy genre tends to embrace ever longer series, it's refreshing to come across a book where the entire universe and narrative arc is kept to less than 400 pages. It means that the writing must be sharper, the plot tighter, and the resolutions more swift and satisfying. That's not to say I would mind if Tao ever decides to add to this story with a sequel, but it isn't necessary because everything is already wholly contained.

When it comes to fantasy, the one thing that makes me a little hesitant to go in is always the worldbuilding. You're just never sure what you're going to get. Will you slip right in seamlessly, or will you be spending hundreds of pages mired in the weeds before anything interesting even begins? Well, no fears here, my friends. We slip right in to a world where the rules of magic and poetry rein, but it feels as effortless as if it were our own.

But in order to enjoy this book, you do need to go in with the right expectations. First and foremost, there are parts of this story that are extremely dark. When you think about it, you can't have a tale about war and famine and suffering through the eyes of a concubine without it veering in that direction. There is abuse in all of its forms, and while it isn't gratuitous, it is present on the pages. For the right reader at the right time, that suffering adds to the authenticity and emotional resonance of the tale, but it isn't for every audience.

Secondly, in a publishing world where romantasy is the genre de rigueur and every conceivable story is implied to be one, this isn't it. This isn’t some sort of slow burn enemies to lovers, if you only waited long enough; this is enemies period. There is no romance in here whatsoever, only historical fantasy. All you readers who enjoy your fantasy with a big heaping pile of romance, you have been warned.

Sometimes I feel like what I think I want as a reader and what I actually want are two completely different things. I think I want cozy and easy, to just float on a bubble of happiness through a book. But what I actually want is to be put through the wringer, to step all over broken glass, and to feel my heart ripped out and broken and made anew. After all, what is the point of living if not to feel, what is the point of reading if not to be swept away on a tide of emotions so intense, it makes real life pale in comparison?

And so The Poet Empress achieves all that and more, coming in and completely trampling my heart and mangling my emotions. I have no doubt this fierce, lush, breathtaking story will stay with me for a long, long time.

"What is the point of suffering if we have nothing to gain?"

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

Oh Emma, you delightful, spirited creature! You are so well-meaning and so certain of your cleverness, yet horribly misguided. What results is nothing short of a comedy of errors.

This is my third Jane Austen, and I have a confession to make. Before I started reading her, I thought people from back in the day had no sense of humor. You only need to pick up any of the often recommended classics (all long, dull, droning on and on about rather tedious topics) to come to the same conclusion. So discovering Jane Austen has been quite the breath of fresh air and continuous source of enjoyment for me.

But first, a little bit of a rocky start. It's hard to go into a classic completely blind, especially one so famous and oft-adapted. So when I opened the pages of Emma, I already knew that one of the decisive movies of my childhood, Clueless, was based off of it. And so it is that my love for Clueless and my complete familiarity with the script made the initial chapters of this book a little more plodding than it should've been.

My brain couldn't help but compare the two. It constantly kept a running tally of every character, every scene, and every plot development I came across, happily mapping them to their corresponding one in the film while I begged it to stop. It was enormously distracting, to say the least.

But by and by, the book won me over and my brain quieted. I would say about a third of the way in, after Volume 1, was when I really started to get into and enjoy the book. The characters came alive, and Emma's smug and self-congratulatory meddling, all to unintended consequences, brought so many smiles and chuckles my way.

But it isn't just silly nonsense, one after another. If it were, this would've quickly deteriorated into slapstick comedy or artificial fluff. What makes this tale so scintillating is that Emma possesses self-awareness. She walks away from each experience with some much needed understanding and contrition, and that is what ultimately makes her such a likable and relatable heroine.

Jane Austen really has a way with words. Her writing is quite dialogue-heavy and she spends a lot of back and forth on each topic, way more than I see in contemporary writing. Yet her witticism not only prevents the scene from becoming stale and repetitive, but rather makes each additional sentence shine with ever more insight.

Let's talk about the romance. I mean, there's a reason why many consider Jane Austen to have laid the foundation to the Regency romance genre. Here, we have what must be the OG friends-to-lovers, and I'm all for that. The slow burn, especially as it starts to crystalize in Volume 3, was swoon-worthy and oh so satisfying. Add to that the grumpy/sunshine vibes and the eventual emotional reveal, and I confess I shed some tears.

This is a story where it gets better and better as it goes on. At first, Emma's folly produces some less than ideal results, but really no harm no foul. All is forgiven, especially from her perspective. But then as time goes on, the consequences and misunderstandings start piling up, and eventually all of Emma's chickens come home to roost. That, plus the slow burn romance, all add up to a thoroughly riveting and immensely gratifying arc and conclusion to the story.

I'm solidly in my Jane Austen era now, and I totally get why she still has such a fervent fanbase this many centuries after her stories were first written. While much has changed in our lives since the 18th century, much still remains the same. And her characters, her stories, her astute observations all seem destined to remain as timeless now as they did when they were first created.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

In just two books, Uketsu has established himself as one of the most innovative mystery writers in recent memory.

Diving into one of his books is a bit like jumping into freefall. You can never quite anticipate it and you never know where you're going to land. But the journey, short and brief though it may be, is sure to delight and exhilarate.

And so Strange Houses is just like that. We open into a discussion about the blueprint of a house. At first glace, it looks to be a lovely and charming home, but when you peer a little closer, certain features don't really make sense. Then the more you look, the more it seems the house is hiding something dark and maybe even a bit sinister.

I totally inhaled this. Once I started, I couldn't put it down. Everyone talks about one-sit reads like we've all got unlimited, uninterrupted time at our fingertips. But with this book, you can actually read it in one go. I think I got through it in just under three hours, which is totally doable, if not in one continuous chunk, then at least over the course of a day.

What can I say, there's just something really fun about hunting for clues in pictures. Like, I know I'm an adult now and I should only be reading serious literature with words in it, but come on, who doesn't love pictures in their books? It totally harkens back to the carefree childhood days of Where's Waldo? and Hidden Objects.

I enjoyed the first half of the book more than the second. The first half focused on the blueprints and the architecture of the houses, and it was really fun to follow along as the characters discussed and deciphered the meaning behind unusual features, coming to conclusions I should've seen, but somehow didn't.

The second half got a bit convoluted. There were so many characters, I had to flip back and forth a few times to make sure I got everything and everyone straight. And the explanations and reveals really tested my suspension of disbelief skills, possibly to a level heretofore unseen.

I'm looking at the ratings for this book, and I totally understand why they're a bit lower. But for me, I really didn't mind the wackiness. I already had to suspend my disbelief to read Uketsu in the first place. After all, no real person would hide sinister clues in pictures nor build houses in this way. So to even buy into the author's premise was already a leap, and I was happy to follow thereafter to wherever he took me.

I cut my teeth in mysteries with Agatha Christie, and while the two of them have very different styles, Uketsu and Christie both fully embraced the spirit of the genre. At its heart, a mystery is meant to be a puzzle, one where we the readers must don our detective caps, try to solve it for ourselves, and when we inevitably fail, marvel at the way it all comes together.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I'm disappointed I didn't enjoy The Mad Wife more. The blurb and all the glowing reviews had me believing this was a certain type of story, but it turned out to be something else entirely.

I originally picked this up thinking it was a careful exploration of what it meant to be a woman, a wife, and a mother in the 1950s (and how that might still apply to today). And the thing is, the book does start out that way. We meet Lulu, housewife extraordinaire—or at least she's trying to be with one young kid and another on the way. She lives in the Stepford-esque neighborhood of Greenwood, where all the wives stick to a very rigid schedule of cleaning and cooking to meet the "perfect housewife" standard.

But then, as the story progressed, it started to get wonky. Lulu didn't communicate, not with her husband, not with her friends, not with her family. Every time someone asked if she was all right, she said she was good and great and absolutely. But then she would get upset that they didn't read her mind or understand her. Yep, that's the sound of me sighing my way through this in exasperation.

There was also the storyline with the neighbors who moved in across the street. Lulu spends so much mental energy lamenting how others judged her for her appearance and her inability to present as the perfect housewife, yet she turned right around and judged Bitsy back, constantly making jabs to her face and behind her back. Am I supposed to be sympathetic to that? I really don't know.

It's one thing if us reader can't see where a story is going and we're taken by surprise and delight when it all comes together in the end. But it's another altogether if the author doesn't know where the story is going either. And that's the distinct feeling I got here. And so the tale ambled on, seemingly without direction or intention.

But I hung on, thinking there was some grand reveal or lesson at the end that would make all my bewilderment worth it. But when it finally unfolded, I was more puzzled than ever. What was the point of this story? If felt like the author spent the majority of time walking us down a very specific path, and then she spent the last part of the book walking it all back.

[View spoiler below]

Even the tone of the story was inconsistent and wishy-washy, contributing to the confusion I felt. It started out as dark humor very much in the vein of The Stepford Wives, with those checklists and Lulu's molded food. But then slowly and surely, the humor was dropped and all that was left was the dark. And it was very dark, make no mistake, so check your trigger warnings carefully if you're sensitive to that.

This felt so much like a bait and switch to me. I picked it up hoping for a complex look into being a wife and a mother. But by the end of the book, I wasn't sure what the heck I was reading anymore, though it certainly wasn't that.

But hey, I'm in the minority here. I see nothing but glowing reviews for this book, so don't let me dissuade you. I suspect this is a case where the story just didn't match the reader, and that happens from time to time.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

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[Spoiler] This book is about how tough it is to be a wife and a mother in the 1950s. But no, actually, she had depression and psychosis stemming from the loss of her baby. This is about how unsupportive husbands were towards their wives. But no, actually, her husband supported her fine and it was all in her head. This is about how she had a mental breakdown from the stresses of her unfulfilling domestic life. Ah, but no again, actually she just had lupus. Like what is even going on in here?

I wonder what price I would pay, for that same freedom.

A dynamic entry into the Greek mythology retelling space, I, Medusa takes a villain in the traditional lore and turns her into the hero of her own story.

I adore mythology retellings. But for some reason in recent years, I’ve been tiring of them. Maybe I’ve read too many. Or maybe all the interesting ideas have been written and there's nothing new left. Whatever the reason, it's surprising and thrilling to come across a tale and a character that makes me remember why I fell in love with the genre in the first place.

The story kicks off, and I'm immediately enthralled. We follow Medusa as she yearns to leave the island of her home. She wants to see what's out there, to explore and have adventures. But instead, she is a mortal woman amongst immortal beings, and her parents' sole expectation of her is a favorable marriage to burnish the family name.

In prose equally arresting and foreboding, Ayana Gray draws the reader in, and we are left with the distinct feeling that all will not go well for Medusa. After all, every Greek mythology is pretty much a tragedy, and I don't think it's a spoiler to say that Medusa's will be as well.

But then, as the book continues, it starts to get a little bogged down with an issue common among this genre. When you think about it, you can approach a mythology retelling in two ways—by centering the tale on an event or on a character. If you go with an event, you have more freedom to focus on the choosiest bits, though at the expense of some character development. But if you pick a character, while you get the advantage of sketching them in sharp relief, you must more or less tell their whole life story, and some parts just aren't as interesting as others.

And so the middle of Medusa's tale sagged a bit from this exact phenomenon. We've moved on from the exciting introduction to our heroine and her bid to leave her childhood home. And we haven't yet gotten to the pivotal moment when she would become the legendary monster of so much fame and infamy. Instead, she's just living her life day to day, trying to make it as an acolyte in Athena's temple.

My other issue with this story is that certain sections come across a bit too obvious and modern in its lessons. This is a clearly a female rage story, but some of the dialogue are a bit too aware of this fact and apply a contemporary language in its examination of misogyny. That doesn't really match the ancient tone of the story and as a result, it pulled me out for a bit.

But small quibbles aside, this is such an interesting take on an often maligned character. Medusa is more than just the monster and myth she ends up being, and this story does her justice, bring all of her beauty and complexity and duality to life.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Then again, maybe the reason why her investigation is going so well is because no one expects a tea expert to also be an expert at solving murder mysteries.

The mystery here was undoubtedly a fun one. But the real question is, how did I feel about Vera? Well, the verdict's still out on that.

Let's start with the mystery. What really worked for me was its simplicity. Sometimes, it feels like authors kind of go crazy trying to cram as many twists and turns and red herrings as possible into one story, and the result is so convoluted, it leaves you more confused than anything else. But with this one, we have just a few "suspects" and so as a reader, you're really able to settle in and enjoy the ride without being overwhelmed by too much intricacy.

And when we get to the big reveal, it's very satisfying. The simplicity makes everything easy to understand and hence the eureka moment feels like it has a bigger impact. So kudos to Jesse Q. Sutanto for doing such a good job on that, which can often be the most challenging component in a book of this genre.

But where I ran into trouble is with Vera. She's very abrasive, to the point of being unlikable. Now before you all come at me to explain what satire is, I get what the author was trying to do. Vera is meant to be a fun, tongue-in-the-cheek representation of the sort of overbearing and overreaching Asian parent we all know and love. And believe me, I know them intimately.

But Vera's personality is taken so far in the direction of being bossy and pushy and just plain wacky that it's hard to see her humanity. In other words, the satire turned into a caricature, and that just didn't work as well for me.

It isn't just Vera though. All the characters seemed a little bit off, their reactions forced, their conflicts exaggerated, their feeling of being wronged inflated and theatrical. This led to the persistent feeling that everything's for show and we're being sold a story, and that it's more farcical than genuine.

No doubt this story could've benefited from a more deft and subtle sketching out of Vera's character. But maybe that's on purpose. I read one of the author's other books, and it very much had the same over the top vibes, so it could very well be that this is the style Sutanto was aiming for and has achieved.

Thankfully, once the story gets going after the first 100 pages, it becomes more tolerable and even a little bit fun. We now have a mystery to solve, so Vera has something to occupy her attention other than just harassing the unsuspecting people around her. We also get more time with the other characters, which is a welcome reprieve from Vera, though they were often nutty in their own way.

Clearly, my dislike of Vera is in the minority. I see tons of reviewers being charmed by the very facets of her personality I find objectionable and offensive. And my only explanation is that maybe her character hits a bit too close to home for me to find it funny. But if you don't come from a culture with a lot of Veras, then maybe this story would inspire more of the delightful reaction it was undoubtedly going for.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

"Cause of death, age of death."

There are certain themes that speak to just about every reader, and the idea of learning your future is one of them. What would you do if you knew how long you had left to live? Would you try to change the outcome for the better, or just surrender to destiny? Those are the thoughts that every single passenger on the flight from Hobart to Sydney would grapple with in the weeks and months following that fateful journey.

But the problem with that theme is that inevitably, the premise is more profound than what comes after. And so here, we have the same problem. After the portentous event, we follow multiple characters as they go back to living their lives, and they're all the sort of somewhat interesting but mostly humdrum lives you'd expect of anyone learning they could (or could not) die in the near (or far) future.

I don't blame Liane Moriarty, at least not entirely. I can't recall a single time any book has tried to tackle this theme and ended up wowing me. No doubt it's a seductive topic, but it's one where when you dig a little deeper, the result can only be one cliché after another — live each day as if it's your last, do the thing you've been putting off, don't let love pass you by, open your eyes to what's in front of you, so on and so forth.

But what I do blame Liane Moriarty for is the extreme unevenness between the various points of view. In true ensemble cast style, every character must have a turn, no matter how compelling or dull their perspectives. And it's just our luck that the one Moriarty chooses to focus on the most, the lady who makes the predictions, is the dullest of them all.

At least with the other characters' points of view, they have all just learned of their supposed demise, and so there is something worthwhile and interesting to fixate on. But with Cherry, there isn't anything of that sort. She's the catalyst of everyone else's crisis, but she herself is rather boring, fussy, and even a bit unlikeable. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, we are forced to read through her entire origin story, and it really sucked the life out of the whole tale.

I'm honestly puzzled. This book was way too long for its content, and we could've easily trimmed off the bulk of the meander by condensing or even axing Cherry's point of view. But as it stands, her parts were such a nonstory, they just added dull upon dull to the narrative. I thought maybe her account was included because we would eventually come upon some incredible revelation or insight, but no, I read/skimmed through it all just to be sure there wasn't.

Liane Moriarty does best when she focuses on dysfunctional domestic drama while adding in her signature sprinkles of wit and satire. But this story veered too far off course. Even though some of the characters were interesting, the Cherry narrative really dragged the whole thing down and left me with a rather tedious taste in my mouth.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars