I try to approach books with minimal expectations. After all, there's nothing more disappointing than going into a much-hyped book with glee and coming out with vague puzzlement about whether we all read the same book. But try as I may, I often can't help myself. The heart wants what it wants, for why else would I be reading in the first place if not to be blown away?

And so I cracked open Hidden Pictures with my usual mix of tempered yet hopeful anticipation, waiting to see which way this book would fall. And I tell you, I knew from almost the very beginning. I was only four pages in when I dropped my library ebook, ran out to my local bookstore, and bought a physical copy so that I could own what I hoped would be a new favorite. And I was right.

Talk about a riveting experience. From the first page to the last, this book had me hooked. I didn't just read it, I inhaled it. The pages slipped through my hands and before I knew it, hours had passed. It's exactly the sort of immersiveness I love and crave in a story.

There is so much tension in here, my spine tingled from it. It was the perfect mix of spooky (not too much), thrilling (very), and mystery (puzzling), and I just ate it up. The mystery, in particularly, was compelling and fun, and I totally enjoyed armchair detecting along with Mallory as she tried to figure out what was going on.

The use of drawings in here has to be a stroke of genius. They are such an integral part of the story and added so much to the spooky ambience. It made it feel like I was reading something special and inimitable. And—let's be honest—even though we're all grownups, I bet we still get pretty excited when we see illustrations in our books, amirite?

That isn't to say this book is without flaws. In terms of sheer funness, the first half of the book definitely has the second half beat. That's probably because setting up a story isn't quite the same as finishing it. So as we start to approach the denouement with all of its twists and turns, there was a noticeable change in the vibe of the story. It went from the perfect amount of spine-tingling thrill to more of eyebrow-raising crazy chaos.

Which brings me to the question: can a story have too many twists? I think so, and I think that's what happened here. The main mystery is already interesting enough, but I think this book went a bit overboard as it wrapped everything up. The twists piled upon twists at the end started to max out my dopamine receptors, and all I felt was numbness in the face of so much mayhem.

But those are minor quibbles in the overall scheme of how much I enjoyed this story. In fact, I had so much fun that if I'm ranking books based solely on that criteria, this would have to be near the top. Just for that alone, and for how memorable it is, it gets all 5 stars from me.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

I love books that make me work hard to get into them, said no reader ever. So it's with great relish (and relief) that I turned to the first page of Vampires of El Norte and was immediately sucked in.

What an incredibly vivid tale this turned out to be. The historical, horror, and romance components really gelled cohesively together and produced a story that is both rich in content as well as atmosphere.

There is so much goodness here, so much that kept me turning the pages. Nena and Nestor's love for their country, their home, and each other. The monsters, both human and not, that are trying to take it all away. And the setting against the backdrop of the Mexican–American War. I couldn't look away.

I thought the horror element was particularly well done. The way the vampires were portrayed was creepy without being too scary, thoroughly fascinating, and surprisingly humane and redemptive. It made me feel hopeful at the end, which isn't something a lot of horror books manage to do.

You can tell that Isabel Cañas put a lot of work into researching all the historical details in here. As a result, the setting feels as authentic as can be, transporting the reader to 1840s Mexico. The time and place flow effortlessly from the pages, allowing the narrative to really shine through.

As for the romance, it started out really strong, with tons of pining vibes that I can totally get behind. And it certainly ended strong the way a good romance should. But the middle there with all that parental disapproval and cowing before them and waffling back and forth? I definitely felt the angst and the melodrama of it all. But maybe this is just a case of me not being a fan of the rich girl/poor boy trope more than anything else.

Small quibbles aside, this was a heck of an interesting read. I was drawn in and held captive by the writing, the atmosphere, and the story within. I'll definitely need to check out more from Cañas.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

What a soppy and ultimately forgettable rendition of the famous fable this turned out to be.

When I approach a retelling, whether it's historical or fantasy, I'm always filled with anticipation. Here is a chance to explore a legendary tale, not via a short vignette, but through the experience of a full-length novel. I want to be completely immersed in the detailed characters, the vivid scenes, and the well-developed narrative that bring such a tale to life. But that didn't happen here.

Instead, we have a fairly basic retelling sagging under the weight of its writing. From the first page to the last, every scene is treated with the upmost dramatic flair. No moment is too pedestrian, no thought too ordinary, to not be effused with the sort of reverent, emotional language usually reserved for a story's climax. I often found myself snickering at the most inappropriate moments, unable to reconcile the dramatic tones with the simple scene unfolding in front of me.

But for all that exaggerated writing, hardly anything happens in here. This is supposed to be the story of a beauty who infiltrates an enemy kingdom to become the king's concubine and lover, all so that she can singlehandedly bring the kingdom to its knees. So where is all the action?

Instead, it's scene after scene of Xishi smiling demurely and saying a few vapid sentences here and there, and that's pretty much the entire book. There were only two small conflicts I could remember in the leadup to the finale, and both were unforced errors. I cringed so hard, I tell you, because how can someone so incompetent actually bring anything down, let alone a kingdom?

Also, for a book about being a concubine and a lover, there were no actual love scenes in here, on or off page. All they did was sleep chastely side by side in the same bed, for years, with a few pecks here and there. If you're surprised, yeah, join the club. Like what king would agree to take a lover who doesn't do anything with them? Is this book for children? Because that's the only explanation I have for the extreme celibacy of this story.

Going in, I was under the impression that this was a fantasy, in large part due to the book design, its blurb, and all the book sites that categorize this first and foremost as such. But it's definitely not a fantasy. In fact, there is not a single fantasy element in here, unless you count Xishi's beauty as so astounding that it's otherworldly. Otherwise, it's straight up historical fiction.

It's clear that the author wrote this book with an eye towards wringing as much emotion from the reader as possible. And while I'm not above being emotionally manipulated by a good story, I need a little bit more than that to feel satisfied. I prefer my stories to have some meat on them, some substantial content I can really sink my teeth into, rather than just be one empty emotional punch after another.

And yet, for all my grousing, there was something in here that kept me turning the pages. There were scenes that charmed me and led me to cheer for Xishi and Fanli. Or perhaps I was waiting for this to materialize into the riveting tale I was hoping for. Either way, I kept coming back for more, so I must've gotten some enjoyment out of it, even if it was laced with disappointment.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

This is not planet Earth as we found it. This is a new place—a fire planet we have made.

A detailed investigation into all that transpired during the record-breaking Fort McMurray Fire, in which almost 100,000 people were forced to flee in a single afternoon, as well as a historical and scientific exploration of how we got to this point and where we will go from here, Fire Weather is as essential as it is eye-opening.

Going into this, I'd like to think I was fairly well-versed on current events, especially on anything weather-related. And of course I knew about global warming and climate change; I don't live under a rock, after all. But when it came to grasping the nitty gritty of exactly what all that entails, I admit I was a little bit hazy.

So this book is exactly what I needed to become crystal clear on this topic. It sits right at the intersection of current affairs, science, and history, all topics that interest me about our world. And I found it to be an absolutely engrossing read, one that as it went on, became harder and harder for me to put down.

We start off with a brief look into the history of fossil fuels, as well as how Fort McMurray became a petroleum boom town surrounded by boreal forest. Then the book shifts into a deep dive of the Fort McMurray Fire, and let me tell you, it is as harrowing and thrilling of a tale as any I've ever read. The mechanics of this fire were almost heretofore unseen, its destructive properties so vast and ferocious, it spawned its own weather systems and was not truly extinguished for more than a year.

The city and the surrounding landscape had become something akin to a fire planet—not a biome but a “pyrome” whose purpose was not to support life but to enable combustion.

But the irony is that Fort McMurray would not have existed as a city if not for its industry of extracting and producing fossil fuels. And while it's this industry that had made it into a boom town, it also simultaneously helped to shape the climate into one that supported and sustained the fire that eventually razed the city to the ground.

But the author doesn't just stop at reporting on the fire. He takes that event and ties it to history and science, and shows us the future in store for us if we choose to continue our destructive love affair with fossil fuels. The amount of research that went into this book must have been staggering, as is the author's vision and ability to tie it all together into a cohesive narrative that both informs and astounds.

Reading this book often left me in chills. Vaillant has a way with words that is not only illuminating in the way of nonfiction, but also evocative and emotionally resonant in the way that only the best of fiction can achieve. And the result is nothing short of remarkable and sobering.

It is almost unbearable to consider that our reckoning with industrial CO2 is only in its infancy, and that future generations will bear this burden far more heavily than we do now.

The juxtaposition of the details of a wildfire side-by-side with a study of climate change is a masterful stroke, as is the choice to go with the Fort McMurray Fire in particular. This combination, which examines climate change from both the micro and macro levels, really hits home the symbiotic relationship humankind has developed with fossil fuels and underscores the positive feedback loop we have created, through negligence at best and willful greed at worst, that is currently propelling us towards a future none of us want to see.

The message isn't all negative though. Yes, we are past the point of no return and our planet will never go back to the way it was before, but our total annihilation isn't a foregone conclusion yet. There is still hope, if we can only make the hard choices now and pivot in time. And so this book, more than anything, is a warning and a call to action.

The current moment is the greatest challenge humanity has faced since we (almost) mastered fire. This time, it is not fire we have to master, but ourselves. If we fail this test, there will be another one, and another after that, but each time the stakes will be higher and the price of failure steeper.

Every once a while, I come across a nonfiction read so profound, so staggering in its scope and so clear in its view, I feel like I'm walking away with essential knowledge of the world. And so this book does exactly that. It is timely, insightful, and surely a must-read as we approach yet another hottest year of yet another hottest decade on record.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

When it comes to horror, I'm not looking to have the bejesus scared out of me. Yes, you read that correctly. I am in fact a big ol' wimp and I'm not afraid to admit it. You can judge all you want, you horror junkies, but my bar is somewhere around reading Goosebumps and having nightmares afterwards.

So it's no surprise that I hemmed and hawed when it came to reading this book. Could I handle it? Is it too scary? Would I have nightmares for weeks and live to regret it? I even asked the person who knows me best what he thought, and my husband so helpfully put it in tennis terms that I was trying to make an unforced error.

But something about this book called to me, and I just couldn't let it drop. And I'm so glad I went for it. Because not only did it not scare the bejesus out of me, but I actually had the most ridiculously good time with it.

When Margaret and her husband Hal first came upon that beautiful Victorian house, they couldn't believe their luck. But soon after moving in, they began to realize why it had been sitting empty for so long. And slowly but surely, things reach a fevered pitch every September. While Margaret loves the house quirks and all, Hal can't take it anymore. Soon after he leaves, Margaret's daughter Katherine shows up looking for her missing father. But what Katherine doesn't understand is that her being there and poking around is making things so much worse.

Let me just say right now, The September House isn't like any other horror book I've ever encountered. The tone isn't dark and depressing as all heck. Instead, there's this levity that makes it so much fun. Maybe that tone isn't quite the norm when it comes to this genre, but I certainly didn't mind and I'm glad the author chose to take it in that direction. It makes an otherwise inaccessible genre feel entertaining and delightful (words I never thought I'd associate with horror).

Most books of this genre take their mission to scare the reader very seriously, almost to their detriment. The protagonist (always a female) is made to jump and squeak and whimper at every dark corner, shadow, and small noise that emanates in their vicinity, as if their fear would somehow translate onto the reader. But instead of adding to the atmosphere, it just makes me roll my eyes. After all, if such simple things could send our protagonist into a tizzy, then how could they possibly handle the really scary stuff? Thankfully, this book does not fall into such a trap.

Margaret is the most strong and competent heroine I have ever come across in a horror book. Nothing fazes her. Not blood running down her walls, not apparitions that appear and try to bite her, and certainly not unspeakable evils in her basement. She just carries on with conviction and all her wits about her, and it's a breath of fresh air, I tell you.

This book has the feel of a thriller, meant to keep the reader engaged and turning the pages. There are interesting developments along the way that you don't see coming, and the overall progression of the story arc is both surprising and satisfying.

That isn't to say there aren't moments of seriousness and fear, but they did not overwhelm the scaredy-cat in me. Rather, the built-in comedic relief and the strong female protagonist both helped to offset the fright, and turned this into a horror story I could actually enjoy.

Now after such an unexpected experience, I'm left wondering if horror is really my long-lost favorite genre after all?

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I feared both men and spirits now. I had no allies, only enemies on all sides.

A magnificent retelling, The Night Ends with Fire isn't the Mulan legend of your Disney youth, that's for sure.

Meilin has grown up under the thumb of her oppressive father all her life. Soon he plans to sell her for her dowry to another violent man who will treat her the same. When war comes to the Three Kingdoms, Meilin seizes her chance and enlists in the army as a man. But as she gains skills and confidence and the power of a spirit, she begins to wonder if her duplicity will hold and how far she's really willing to go to secure her freedom.

Let me just gush for a second here. I had such an amazing time with this story. It's exactly the sort I adore, with a badass heroine and a high stakes conflict where everything is on the line. There is no easy victory, only hard choices, and every character is some shade of morally gray.

I feel like Disney's Mulan was a bit too goody two-shoes (as is typical of Disney), so I'm really glad this book turned that on its head. Meilin certainly isn't good through and through. Instead, she must balance her desire for freedom and power with her duty to her kingdom and her love for her family. There was a rawness and courage to Meilin that makes it easy to like her and relate to her, even if I didn't always understand or agree with her decisions.

In fact, it's not just Meilin's character that's interesting and complex. It's almost every character in this book. Their moral ambiguity is a large part of why they come across as real and interesting. There is no straightforward path when it comes to war, no high road to take on the way to victory. There is only bloodshed and sacrifice and death, and this tale certainly doesn't shy away from that.

The writing in here is evocative and easy to fall into. I feel like I was sucked in from the very first page. To me, there is no higher compliment and no greater quality in a book than immersiveness, and this story has it in spades. I wanted to gobbled it up but also savor it slowly so that I didn't reach the end too soon.

This is categorized as romantasy, and I would say it's mostly fantasy with just a bit of romance sprinkled in, exactly how I like it. The fantasy world is vivid and easy to grasp without a lot of complex worldbuilding. And the light romance should appeal to readers who aren't big fans of it or don't care for lots of explicit scenes.

One interesting thing to note are the names in here. When you translate names between different languages, you have the choice of going phonetically or contextually. Phonetically is generally considered more authentic, but you lose the meaning behind the names. Here, the author chose to do a mix of both. While at first it was a little odd to have names in pinyin like "Meilin" next to "Sky" and "Sparrow", I did grow to appreciate that it gave context where otherwise there would be none and helped to distinguish the characters for an English-speaking audience.

Same could also be said for including some Chinese phrases mixed in in an English book. When the meaning is unclear, the author often put the pinyin and the English side-by-side, so that really the phrase is duplicated. I can see the purists getting up in arms over it, claiming that it's sufficient just to include the pinyin and leave it at that. So what if the audience it's intended for doesn't understand? But that's just silly. While I'm all for authenticity, I'm happy with the balance the author struck so that no one has to miss out.

What an exhilarating tale this turned out to be. I originally picked it up because the luminous cover and pretty sprayed edges totally captured my attention, and I wasn't about to pass up a Mulan retelling. While judging a book by its cover doesn't always pay off, it certainly did in this case.

My only regret is reaching the end and realizing this isn't a standalone. Now starts the long wait for the sequel.

Readaroo Rating; 5 stars!

And the award for Most Interesting Premise But Lackluster Execution goes to... drumroll please... The Wishing Game.

Like what the heck? Obviously, I have a lot to say, so please hear me out.

First, the premise. With its promise of a famous children's author hosting a game to win it all on a remote island shaped for the face of a clock, this book sounds like the most magical, whimsical journey. It's distinctly Willy Wonka-esque, and I don't know anybody who doesn't love that. Add in that eye-catching title which totally tugs at the imagination, and I was all ready to be impressed. But no, this fell so short on pretty much every level, I can only gape at the distance between my expectations and reality.

At the heart of it, this just doesn't read like adult fiction. It reads distinctly like a children's book, and honestly, not a very good one. There's a simplicity to the writing and the story that doesn't grab my attention. It's hard to stay engaged when every scene is so formulaic and bland. In fact, there are excerpts in here from the children's books themselves, and there were no discernible differences between the writing in there and the actual story.

The characters never became anything more than cardboard cutouts of real people. Each has one or two characteristics that define them, and they stay within those narrowly defined bounds. Lucy is poor and hates her family and wants to adopt Christopher. Christopher is a sad foster kid who loves sharks. Hugo is a temperamental artist who scowls a lot. And Jack is an eccentric author who lives in an eccentric house on an eccentric island, and every thing he says is eccentric. There, I've summed up the entirety of the cast.

The way they interact with each other is so odd and forced. Like if you've only known someone for 24 cumulative hours, would you go around hugging them and asking them to be your parent? What about calling your coworker "baby girl"? Or promising a child without parents that you can just adopt them, even when you yourself don't have safe housing or reliable transportation? I don't know, maybe you can, and it's just me that's weird.

But it wasn't just a scene here or there. There were so many moments that came off as vaguely creepy or inappropriate or uncomfortable or just plain weird, but they were all written as if they're actually heartwarming. It was so bizarre and puzzling, I felt like I was in a twilight zone.

And that's just it. Throughout this entire book, it's as if I was being sold a story and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was wrong. I can suspend disbelief for plot, but it's very hard to suspend disbelief for characters and the way they act. If what they say and do feel a little bit off, then it's like I'm constantly being reminded that what I'm reading isn't real. It's hard to become immersed in a story like that.

There's this phrase—"death by a thousand cuts"— that I think is totally appropriate here. There isn't any one thing I can point to that is egregiously wrong with this story, but there are so many little things. The simple writing, the dull dialogue and plot, and the way all the characters interact that feel just a little bit off—all put together, make this an extremely underwhelming read.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars