Can a cozy fantasy be too cozy? Unfortunately, the answer here is yes.

When I think of a cozy fantasy, what I want is to be swept away in a story that's warm and comforting, but also compelling. And that last part is perhaps especially important since it can often be hard to achieve the right balance in this cozy genre. Because no matter how seemingly low stakes a tale may be, there must still be some depth and things of importance on the line. And for me, The Teller of Small Fortunes just never quite got there.

It pains me to say that my mind wandered constantly. The story failed to grab me, not in the beginning, nor in the middle, and not even eventually in the end when we get to the most exciting scenes. It lacked that all-important tension throughout, without which nothing really propelled the story forward.

It doesn't help that we had no permanent setting. Instead, Tao and her friends go from one town to the next. Each chapter brings a new location, so it felt like a string of short stories instead of one cohesive whole. Even though there were a few overarching goals for the merry band of travelers, they somehow felt very diluted and lacked the weight necessary to hold the story together.

Even the dialogue felt very low stakes, with no actual conflicts or surprises at play. As you enter each conversation, it's clear where it's going, and indeed it goes there. The way the characters talk to each other doesn't hold the authenticity of real, distinct people. Instead, it feels like an approximation of what dialogue should be, but cozified so that everyone talks the same and it achieves the warm fuzzy feeling without any of the give and take of real conversation.

And when we finally reach the end, that felt like a letdown too. All the overarching conflicts were instantly resolved, without any pushback or depth or even the slightest unexpectedness. It just felt so insubstantial after the whole journey.

Maybe it's me and this style of cozy isn't to my taste. A friend read this and greatly enjoyed it, as did the majority of readers for this book. So take my thoughts with a grain of salt and don't let me dissuade you, especially if you're a fan of this cozy genre.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

A mystery in epistolary form? Sign me up!

Before going in, I had heard a lot about Janice Hallett. Her unique take on mysteries—where every crime, every clue, and every suspect is presented via emails and messages—sounds as fun as it is intriguing. So it's with much anticipation that I finally pick up her debut and see for myself what all the fuss is about.

And The Appeal definitely starts off strong. We're immediately dropped into the fray and the action, being privy to the private conversations that fly back and forth between all the different characters. There's no setup to get through, no background we need to know first. The format lends an undeniably zippy feel to the whole thing, and you can't help but turn the pages, wanting to read just a little bit more.

But somewhere around the 80-page mark, I started getting confused. Because where is the mystery? I thought I'd signed up to read a murderous play, but all I got thus far was small-town petty drama. And the more I read, the less appealing it got.

For me, a large part of the issue is that the murder isn't even alluded to until more than 250 pages in. If that sounds like a lot of pages to get through before anything happens, I assure you it was. In the meantime, we must wade through so many emails and messages detailing the small and seemingly inconsequential minutiae of life and play. Yes, there were a few nefarious whiffs here and there, but they felt more like interpersonal drama than anything substantial enough to uphold the weight of a proper mystery.

Once the murder happens, things do pick up. But here again, I feel like I have to nitpick a little. The way the investigation unfolds is a little bit awkward. It's two lawyers trying to figure it out while a third lawyer who already knows everything eggs them on, so it comes across somewhat forced. Not only that, but they must examine the crime from every possible angle. That means every suspect and every theory is talked about at length, and it was so detailed as to be bordering on tedious. I even started having trouble keeping it all clear and square in my mind.

And yet, for all my misgivings, when we do finally reach the end, it comes together in a satisfying way. That, plus the interesting format, has me intrigued. This is a debut, so perhaps some of the issues I ran into were just growing pains and more writing experience would iron it out? I have a few more of Janice Hallett's books lined up and time will tell.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

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