Well, fuck me. This was about the most lackluster astronaut book I've ever read.

You have to understand, I'm a huge space nerd. I've read countless books on NASA, space exploration, astronauts, the shuttle program; you name it, I've read it. In fact, if we were to stack rank random topics, all my top spots would be taken up by everything space. So when I heard one of my favorite authors was writing a book about one of my favorite topics, I about fainted.

But right off the bat, I could tell something was off. We open with the most climatic, pivotal scene of the story. It should've grabbed me with the force of a thousand suns, but it didn't. It somehow was both too detailed and also not enough, throwing what seemed like twenty new characters at me in the span of two pages while lacking the technical details that would've convinced me we really were in the midst of a space mission. It left me feeling more confused than anything else.

Since this is a dual timeline, we then proceed to alternate between this climatic scene and the seven years leading up to it as Joan becomes a full-fledged astronaut. And while I did enjoy Joan's journey of finding herself and growing through her relationships, I can't help but feel that something was lacking here too. There was so little time spent on her actual astronaut training and so much time spent on her personal life, that it felt like I was reading generic women's lit instead of the singular, exciting story I was promised.

I zoned out constantly. There were so many characters (all introduced around the same time and none of whom stood out) that I had trouble keeping everyone straight in my head. And what should've been the exciting, technical, space portions of the book were replaced by seemingly endless discussions about constellations (my love for space does not extend to star configurations, it would seem) and pseudo-philosophical chitchats about the meaning of life. I was worn down.

But even the lack of an astronaut story aside, this still had the feeling of being aggressively bland while also being overly emotional. Every scene in this book—from the contents of the pivotal scene, to the intercutting of it throughout the book, to Joan's relationships with Vanessa and Frances, to all the meaning of life chats—felt like it was set up for maximum emotional hit, almost superficially so. And while I'm not opposed to being emotionally manipulated, this book did it so openly and so obviously that I can't help but cry foul.

Looking back, I should've known my expectations were too high and I was bound for disappointment. It says right there on the cover that this is "a love story" after all. But the heart wants what it wants, and mine wanted an astronaut story, damn it.

In my defense though, what was I supposed to think? Andy Weir blurbed for this book, for crying out loud! And after Carrie Soto, in which TJR managed to take the complex, technical game of tennis and make it absolutely mesmerizing to us plebs who know nothing about the game, I thought she could write anything. After all, Carrie Soto was amazing because TJR didn't shy away from including all of its technical intricacies, not in spite of it.

So of course I thought lightning would strike twice, and TJR would do so again here. I thought I would get the perfect symbiosis of astronaut and woman, technical and emotional, science and love. But instead, the astronaut part of the story was so watered down that it felt almost like an afterthought and we'd have pretty much the same story if Joan had chosen some other career.

Clearly, I wasn't the right audience for this book. My thoughts are decidedly in the minority, and I'm pretty sure my issues here are exactly why so many other readers loved it. So don't let me dissuade you. But do set your expectations correctly before going in—this is a love story, not an astronaut story.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Welp, that was a huge disappointment. When you talk about the distance between expectations and reality, Babel was about as far apart as you can get.

But before I get into that, let me start with a disclaimer. As you can see, I did not like this book. In fact, I'm hard pressed to come up with even one thing I enjoyed in here. But I'm decidedly in the minority, and many readers clearly loved this. If that's you and you thought this was the best thing you've ever read and would happily spend the rest of your life reading this over and over, that's totally cool. But uh, it's probably best not to read my review.

Seriously. There is a giant rant incoming, so last chance to turn back. You've been warned.

Right on, then. Let me start with my main issue here. This is clearly a tale built around the author's linguistics education and her desire to expound at length about colonialism, slavery, and racism. And I don't necessarily have a problem with that, but if you're going to go on and on about anything, there had better be some depth to it. But all I got was some regurgitation of fairly surface level stuff. And on top of that, where is even the story?

We spend hundreds of pages on Robin's linguistics and language education, during which time the author seems to have forgotten she's writing fiction and not actually a textbook. Sure, it was interesting to read about these topics initially, but when it goes on and on for hundreds of pages in the droning fashion of an actual grad-level textbook, I start to lose my patience.

Where is the insight? Where are the new and interesting ideas that would grab me and make me rethink my views on languages and by proxy, the entire world? Instead, all we get here are lots of words and what they mean and how they translate into various languages, and how there isn't a direct translation between them and so we're forced to lose a bit of meaning during the process. Like, okaaay? Do I look like I live under a rock and need this spelled out across hundreds of pages in order to grasp such a simple concept?

Then there's the puzzling factor of the footnotes. There were so many of them (at least one per page), but they weren't there to elucidate the story as you would expect. Rather, they were there to dwell on irrelevant and quite frankly boring linguistics and translation asides, contexts, and histories. Their inclusion does nothing for the already plodding pace, and I honestly can't wrap my head around why they were included in the first place.

I get that R.F. Kuang is clearly very knowledgeable about these subjects and wants to convince us that the universe she has created, and in particular, Babel, is real. And of course every storyteller faces the dilemma of how much detail to include in a bid of authenticity versus narrative pacing and flow. But Kuang, faced with this choice, always erred on the side of including everything. No detail is too small, no random linguistic tidbit too obscure, to have made it in here. As a result, I'm entirely convinced that Robin & co. are studying linguistics and languages, but since I'm not actually trying to get a PhD in these subjects, it really doesn't make for a scintillating read.

But if it were just wading through some dull passages to eventually arrive at a fascinating story, I wouldn't be so upset. Instead, we never get to the good part. This book starts and ends with the message that colonialism, racism, and slavery are all very, very bad. And while I wholeheartedly agree with that, there is nothing else of substance beyond that sentiment.

Every character, every plot development, every dialogue is in service to this message. The characters were all flat, one-dimensional representations of their respective races, with no potential for redemption or ability to rise beyond their skin color. It's odd that for a story supposedly against racism, the author employed such broad stereotypes for all of its characters.

Every plot development was clearly a way to manipulate the situation to showcase this message some more. And even the dialogues were nothing more than thinly veiled disguises, consisting of one character playing dumb so that the other character could lecture them some more (and us readers in turn) on the badness of these beliefs.

You know, there's something to be said for subtlety. My favorite books are always the ones where the author trusts the readers enough to follow along and to come to their own conclusions. Alas, that's not what happened here. Here, this book seems absolutely terrified that its readers are very dumb, so it resorts to the sort of simplistic, repetitive, heavy handed badgering usually reserved for toddlers and Communist propaganda.

But even after all this, hundreds of pages on linguistics and languages and translations, not to mention the endless discussions on colonialism, racism, and slavery, I still feel like I learned nothing new. Everything in this book is so surface level, so unimaginative, trite, and utterly predictable, that it feels like I read nothing at all.

The irony is, even with this plethora of material, I still felt somewhat fuzzy around the worldbuilding. The most interesting part of this book, how the silver relates to the languages, seems very vague and glossed over. Which means that at the end of the day, I just didn't buy into this world. And for a fantasy, that's pretty much a complete and utter flop.

Maybe if I wasn't an enthusiastic fantasy reader who craved compelling plot, rich worldbuilding, and nuanced characters, but instead was just looking for some basic ideas, then I probably would've found this story acceptable. Or better yet, if I wasn't sure how to feel about colonialism, racism, and slavery (good or bad, who can say?), then the rudimentary thoughts presented here would've enlightened my views. But as it is, this didn't do anything for me and will probably go down as my biggest disappointment of the year.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

Helen Hoang has a real knack for taking a fairly fluffy genre and elevating it to something more.

It starts with the characters. Every single one of her characters feels so genuine and so sharp that they just jump off the pages, and Esme and Khai are no different. They each have their own problems, yet they remain so inherently kind and sweet throughout that I can't help but adore them.

Esme, in particular, resonated with me so much. She's an immigrant in a foreign land trying to make a better life for herself and her family. She doesn't know what to do a lot of the time, but she does know hard work will pay off and she doesn't shy away from it. She's fierce and determined, and even when things aren't going well, she doesn't give up. She's exactly the kind of female character I can look up to and cheer for.

And Esme and Khai's scenes together were so sweet and sizzling. This is a slow burn romance, so don't expect anything to happen too quickly. Instead, the respect and affection and trust slowly builds up between them, and it's so satisfying to see.

Hoang continues to win with her neurodivergent rep. Khai's character is so thoughtfully and lovingly constructed, you can't help but feel she must've drawn from personal experience and put a bit of herself in him.

But reader beware, for this story isn't all light and fun. In fact, there are some serious topics being tackled here, including the loss of a loved one and unresolved grief. So please tread carefully if you're sensitive to that.

This was such an easy story to fall into. The writing feels effortless, and the way the story unfolds so easily and organically, you're just pulled along for the ride. I totally inhaled it. I'm absolutely loving Helen Hoang's sweet and steamy romances, and I can't wait for more.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Calling all mystery fans! Here's one you're not going to want to miss.

Can a mystery be laid out such that all the clues you need to solve it are in a few drawings? Sure, if it's simple. But what about an intricate, multi-part, multi-crime mystery? Well, here comes Strange Pictures to show us exactly how it's done.

On the surface, this seems like a straightforward concept. We're presented with a series of drawings and seemingly unrelated mysteries. The drawings contain clues, which allow deductions to be made and secrets to be unearthed, until the entire mystery of this story is completely unraveled.

And yet, beneath the surface is this fascinating and surprisingly complex puzzle. It's my favorite type of mystery, where everything you need to solve it exists right before your eyes. The drawings contain all the necessary clues, so I happily donned my detective hat and proceeded to stare really hard at all of them.

But it's not just the mechanics of the mystery that had me impressed. It was also the way the author captured the psychology and emotions behind the crimes. The quiet understatedness of the writing puts the current of unease squarely at the center of attention, and the result is about as compelling as they come.

Needless to say, I was utterly riveted. I feel like I could've easily read this in one sitting if I had the chance. As it was, I gobbled it up as fast as I could, and my mind is still reeling from the way it all came together.

The only thing that held me back from picking this up sooner was the horror aspect. A big deal has been made about how spine-tingling it is, and I'm not afraid to admit I'm a big wimp. You throw in some eerie sketches, and I wasn't sure I could do it. But thankfully, it was all good. I didn't find it scary, only a bit sinister and macabre.

Mystery has got to be the genre I read more than any other. I feel like at this point, I've seen it all and heard it all, and nothing really surprises me anymore. So when a book comes along that amazes me not only with its story but also how it's told, I tend to get pretty darn excited.

And this book certainly did. Don't miss it.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Here I was, thinking I was getting an epic tale inspired by Norse mythology. Instead, what I got was a bunch of horny, unwashed Vikings rubbing up against each other while going on pointless quests.

To be fair, A Fate Inked in Blood didn't start out badly. In fact, our initial introduction to Freya had me thinking she was my favorite type of female protagonist—strong and competent. The mystery surrounding her powers definitely added a level of intrigue. And her and Bjorn's flirty first meeting was charming, if a bit overdone for a fantasy. I thought I'd hit the jackpot, for here was another contender to scratch my romantasy itch.

But alas, as the story progressed, the shine started to wear off.

First there was Freya, protector of her mother and brother. She'd scream, cry, vomit anytime anyone even hinted at a threat to them. When not engaged in such theatrics, she'd lust after Bjorn. Every single thought and sentence Freya uttered—and there were a lot because this was written from her perspective—was in service to those two things. And that's pretty much her entire personality.

Then there was the plot, such as it was. It meandered along happily, lacking that strong cohesive narrative that propels a story forward. At times, I thought I was reading Lord of the Rings fanfiction, first traversing stairs inside a mountain, then fighting the undead, then trekking up a treacherous snow-covered mountain. But none of it really contributed to the overarching narrative. Any of these scenes could've been cut out and we'd have the exact same story.

And then we come to the romance. In your face as it was, it somehow didn't do it for me. Every time we're in the middle of some crucial/mortally dangerous scene, there was Freya, fantasizing about ravishing Bjorn. We're pulled out of the action constantly to read about the slickness between her thighs and the throbbing of her core. My eyes could not have rolled any harder.

But it wasn't just that the romantic scenes felt jarring and out of place. It was also how incredibly dirty and smelly the participants were, which we're reminded of time and time again. Call me weird, but I don't want to read about vomit and pig shit and stinky sweat in the same scene as sexy time. That brings a whole new dimension to the phrase "getting dirty," and I'm sorry to say that I'm into cleanliness.

Usually as a story goes along, I get more and more into it. The characters grow on me, the plot pulls me along, and before I know it, I'm fully immersed in the world. But not here. Here, the characters were devoid of personality, the plot fairly directionless, and the only thing of note is the cringey, inappropriately-placed romantic scenes.

I know what my problem is. I have this habit of going out and acquiring subsequent books in a series before I've even touched the first book, hence jinxing the whole thing. And of course every time I do this, I end up not enjoying the first book. And so this duology follows the same pattern. On the plus side, I can now clear out two precious spots on my bookshelf in one go, so yay for a twofer.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

A delightful start to what I hope will be a very long series, A Study in Scarlet Women has everything I could want in a female Sherlock Holmes.

Lady Charlotte Holmes has chafed all her life against the restrictions placed around a woman in the Victorian era. She can't imagine a life spent doing what's expected of her, wallowing in the bland domesticity of being a wife and mother. If only there was some way she could put to use her singular talent of discomfiting strangers and acquaintances alike, perceiving and blurting out things about them they do not want anyone else to know.

Alas, it wasn't until Charlotte was forced onto the streets that she started to realize perhaps there is a use for her unusual talent after all. But she knows the only way she will be taken seriously is under the guise of a man, so Sherlock Holmes is born.

Ah, please allow me a moment to gush here. You guys know how much I love a clever female protagonist, so my adoration of this book was pretty much a foregone conclusion from the very beginning. Charlotte leaps off the pages with her strength and independence, willingly casting aside her easy societal life for the chance to make her own way in the world. Readers, I swooned.

But before I went in, I was actually a bit wary. Truth be told, I find the original Sherlock Holmes character to be somewhat abrasive and egotistical, and hence unlikable. But Sherry Thomas totally nailed it here with her spin, and Charlotte Holmes reads like a breath of fresh air. I was charmed not just by Charlotte's brain, but also by her personality and even her love for scrumptious food.

In fact, I was charmed by almost everything in this story. The supporting characters were just as memorable and delightful as our main, rounding out a cast of those I hope to see again and again in future stories. The writing was sharp and fun, incorporating plenty of the Victorian witty banter I've come to associate with tales from that era. And there's even a hint of romance, so well executed that the sizzle and tension were palpable from just the few mere sentences and glances exchanged.

If I had one quibble, it's that the mystery is perhaps a shade too complex. Since this is the first book of a series, we are introduced to quite a few overarching characters that presumably will continue throughout the series, as well as characters that are only relevant to this mystery. As a result, it's a lot people to keep straight, plus their unusual ties to each other, along with all the twists and turns as the mystery unfolded. Thankfully, the confusion doesn't take away from my enjoyment, but it did make me wish I'd taken some notes along the way. But that's really a small quibble in light of how much I enjoyed everything else.

Before I close out on my gushing thoughts, let me take a moment to highlight who I think is the best audience for this book. This is a historical fiction + mystery + romance. The mystery is at the forefront, make no mistake, but it is written in the style of a fun historical romance, with all of its slow burn and banter and even a bit of flirtation. If you are a purist who enjoys your mysteries on the serious/gritty side, this probably isn't for you. On the other hand, if you're a historical romance aficionado who's been wondering when the heck someone was going to throw a good ol' mystery into the mix, well I've got just the one here for you.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

"We can never again be who we were . . . It's impossible. We've already missed each other."

I left Shanghai when I was nine. By the time I was able to make it back for a visit almost a decade later, the city of my birth and early years, along with the people I'd loved, were all inexorably changed.

Maybe that's why I'm always drawn to stories set in Shanghai. The city of my youth exists now solely in my memories, and I keep having this steadfast hope that, by reading about it, maybe somehow I'd be able to conjure up in my mind the place and all the people I loved that no longer exist.

In that way, Homeseeking feels like an inevitable read for me. My story somewhat mirrors Suchi and Haiwen's, though decades later and without the war and only a little bit of the famine. But we all left our beloved city behind, and it feels like we spend the rest of our lives trying to mend the holes in our hearts.

But I think to distill this down to simply Suchi and Haiwen's love story is to do a disservice to this epic tale. Yes, the story centers around the two of them and their encounters through the years. But it's also a story about resilience and hope and the complicated yet unconditional love for one's children and parents and family.

The structure here works particularly well. Told in alternative viewpoints between Suchi and Haiwen, Suchi's narrative goes forward while Haiwen's goes backwards. In this way, it allows us the readers to simultaneously experience all their hopes and dreams for the future while also seeing the memories and regrets that come with a lifetime already experienced and choices already made.

Some stories hit harder because they feel more personal, and this one definitely did for me. Karissa Chen's evocative prose means I could almost see the longtang where I grew up, envision the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and hear the familiar cadence of Shanghainese, my first and still most comforting language. The scene with the fortune teller explaining the meaning of "yun" seemed like it was written especially for me. By the time I reached The Coda at the end, I was bawling my eyes out.

Maybe the only thing I didn't love was Suchi's character at times. Even her son called her a martyr at one point and it was spot on. I wanted more for her, but perhaps her depiction is authentic to the culture and the trauma that she has experienced. It must be hard to remain courageous when you've faced a lifetime of heartache and pain.

This was such a riveting and poignant tale, at times heartbreaking and at times so hopeful. Its depiction of the love between parent and child, even in the face of agonizing choices, is so searing in its honesty. And it speaks to every immigrant's heart, that we all left behind something unbearably precious and all we can do is look forward and make a new home somewhere else.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars