"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

I know that Chloe normally looks more put together, but compared to a corpse, I must look okay, right?

Huh, I don't quite know how to feel about this. Suffice to say, this is one of the more unhinged books I've read in quite some time.

Julie Chan has always been envious of her twin Chloe's life. While Julie rotted away under the care of her abusive aunt after their parents died, Chloe was adopted by a wealthy white couple and grew up amidst money and luxury. When Chloe became a famous influencer, Julie followed from afar, glimpsing into what could've been her life, if only. So when Chloe suddenly dies, Julie naturally seizes the chance to live her twin's life. But the longer Julie masquerades as Chloe, the more she starts to realize that something is amiss.

I have to admit, the part of the premise that got me to read this book was the twin switcheroo bit. It felt very Lindsay Lohan and The Parent Trap. That was such a memorable movie from my childhood, I figured if this switcheroo was half as fun, it'd be worth the read. And it was fun, but with some caveats (and a lot of cringing).

First, this story is crazy, like really unhinged, insane, heretofore unseen levels of crazy. It starts out with a pretty wacky premise and it only gets more so from there. Not only is the plotline crazy, but so is each and every one of the characters. So you've been warned. It's best to just lay back and enjoy the ride, and not worry about how it may or may not be based in reality.

Second, this is very much geared towards a certain audience, and truth be told, that's where I started to feel a disconnect with the story. You know, I'm not that hip and I'm certainly not that young, so there were a lot of references and even some lingo in here I've never heard of before. I also don't TikTok, YouTube, Twitch, or even Instagram much, and I certainly don't follow any influencers or care about their lifestyles. So I definitely felt a bit like an outsider reading this story.

Also, I floundered trying to determine the meaning behind this tale. The lack of likable characters and character growth made it hard to discern something out of the pure chaos this ended up being. And maybe there is no more meaningful message here other than that it's a good story, and I'm trying to make something out of nothing. But I just couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, and I was waiting for more.

It's clear this is a satire, but for me, in order for that to work, I have to be able to relate to the characters and also understand the underlying commentary. And I just couldn't quite get there on both fronts with this one.

Still, I was impressed with this debut's ability to keep me engaged, even through its zanier moments. In the end, it was a fun/cringey way to spend a few hours, so I can't complain too much.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Here I was, thinking I'm getting too old and cynical to enjoy a romance. And The Kiss Quotient comes along and totally blows me away.

In recent years, I've started to give up on romances. I pick up so many, yet only a few have managed to really grab me. The characters have gotten crazier, the tropes ever more outlandish, and the sheer amount of disbelief I have to suspend just to imagine that anyone could fall in love with these nutters has really tired me out.

When every book you pick up from a genre is middling, you start to wonder if it's you and not the book. Perhaps the time has come to face the fact that I've started to age out of this genre and that falling in love was so many years and decades behind me that I can no longer recall the feeling. But no, for here is a story that made me remember distinctly the heady, swooping, all encompassing joy of finding your soulmate.

There are many reasons I love this story, and the main characters are undoubtedly a big one. Helen Hoang meticulously and lovingly crafted them to life, and it really shows. There's something so special about Stella and Michael. They each have their own issues, yet they remain so intrinsically good, so sweet and kind and caring throughout, that I just wanted to hug them. I don't think I've ever cheered so hard for a couple to work out.

I absolutely love the neurodivergent rep in here. Sometimes the question comes up if an author has to be what they write. And the answer is, of course not as that would be very limiting. But there is only so much extrapolation, so much imagining you can do about a different way of thinking and a set of experiences you do not have, and to bring actual personal understanding into a character takes it to a whole other level. Stella is so clearly defined, her humanity and her autism so sharply sketched, because Helen Hoang is autistic herself.

Got to talk about the steam factor. I think this book first came out when the trend started of putting cartoony covers on spicy books, and readers everywhere were caught unawares. I don't think anyone reading it today would be surprised, but yeah, this is a steamy book. In fact, I would give it all the red chilly peppers. It's not that the content itself is super outrageous, but more that there is so much tension and sizzle embedded into just about every scene—and there are a lot of these scenes when the story is about a male prostitute teaching an inexperienced woman how to have sex—that you definitely need a cold shower or two afterwards.

Often the romance genre can feel a bit over the top with their pile-on of tropes, conflicts, and misunderstandings, all of which could be easily resolved with some simple conversations. Thankfully, I didn't find this story to be too out there. Yes, there were some issues that dragged on for longer than strictly necessary, but I stayed riveted throughout, mostly due to how genuinely sweet and earnest the characters were, bumbling though they may be.

I gobbled this up. In fact, this was my second time reading it, and I stayed up way too late because I still couldn't put it down. This old favorite definitely remains a favorite, so take that, romance genre!

At the end of the day, do we not all judge romances books by the simple barometer of does it make us feel like we're falling in love? And this story certainly does. But I would venture to say that even more than that, this story exemplifies the core characteristics of a real, happy relationship—that no matter what flaws or issues there may be, that we must remain kind and unselfish and give the best version of ourselves to the person we love. I adore that message so much, and I adore this book for it.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

What the heck was this? I think I'm going to need a few more rereads to wrap my head around it all.

When it comes to speculative fiction, you just never know what you're going to get. Sometimes there's a great premise, but no follow-through. Sometimes the premise comes across a bit middling, but it turns out to be a terrific story. With this one, I feel like Nicholas Binge really went all out. The premise was super interesting to start with, and it just got crazier and crazier from there.

Whether you would enjoy this story depends on a few things. To start, you have to be able to maximumly suspend disbelief. Okay now that you've done that, you need to suspend it some more, and then some more, and then some more. And you will finally have reached the level of suspension required for this story. It was so wacky that at times, I even found myself unable to buy into it.

You have to also be able to wait for the payoff. The story starts off fairly slowly. It's a complicated plot, and many, many pieces have to be set up along the way. I'm feel like not much happens until well over a hundred pages into the book. Even then, you're getting information at a trickle, and it's not until the last few chapters that things really come together.

You have to also be able to enjoy a fairly technical level of science fiction. That isn't to say there is a lot of actual science in here (because this is more speculative than hard scifi), but there is a lot of discussions around philosophy, science, and biology. At times, it even veered into the supernatural, which was definitely a bit of a stretch for me.

And finally, you have to be okay with multiple, possibly confusing, timelines. The story is set up like a dual timeline, one in the present and one in the past. But the present one is mostly a recount of another time, so what you actually have is a third timeline embedded in there. And quite frankly, that's probably one too many for me. I did have moments when I got confused as to when/where I really am in the story.

Gosh, that all probably sounds more negative than positive. And to be honest, I did feel very conflicted while reading this. I don't think I really bought into the story until more than a third of the way in, and even then, things kept coming up that would throw me for a loop and make me rethink if I'm actually enjoying it.

And yet, when I came upon the denouement, I can't deny that I found it supremely fascinating. So many of the clues that were laid out earlier—and even some of the components I wasn't a fan of—all came together in such a satisfying way, I can't help but bow down to Nicholas Binge. Well played, sir.

I think it's safe to say this wasn't a homerun for me by any means. But it's one of those books that's so interesting, it has a way of burrowing into your mind and staying there. Even now, I'm thinking back on it, pondering over what I understood and what I missed. Even though I didn't love everything in here, I'm compelled to reward it for leaving me so thoroughly stunned.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

On the one hand, I did have some fun with this one. But on the other hand, shouldn't these characters be in therapy instead of a romcom?

Let me preface this by saying that my opinion here is decidedly in the minority. I see so much love for this book, so I'm inclined to think this is probably a me-problem and not a book-problem. I'm getting to that cynical old age when I should stop reading romances about silly young 'uns and move onto more serious novels about geriatric leads.

But since you're still here, I might as well tell you my thoughts.

First, the good. The premise of this book is a lot of fun, about a romance author all romanced-out and pretending for her readers. There is a lot of trope awareness within the pages, so it almost feels a bit meta as you're reading it. I also thought the banter was top notch, and it definitely had me chuckling along.

But then, the not so good. I feel like this book took every possible minor issue that the characters could have had and laid it on so thick, it robbed any semblance of reality from the story. Find out your favorite romance author doesn't believe in happily ever after? Cancel her. Caring for an ill loved one? Why not make it almost Munchausen by proxy. Love someone but can't physically be in the same location? Don't even consider long distance, just call it quits and wallow in self-pity.

It's hard to take a story seriously when it's so over the top on everything. I understand that to have a story at all, there needs to be conflicts and resolutions. And yes, sometimes one has to stretch the conflicts a bit in order to have a story last the requisite 300 pages to be called a book. But this one went so hard to town with just about everything, it started to feel vaguely farcical.

And this nuttiness extended to the characters too. At the center is Margot, the most beautiful and successful female lead ever, yet so full of self-doubt that she needs constant reassurance from everyone around her, which she manifests as rudeness and brattiness and borderline harassment.

"No, Forrest, you listen. You gave me every indication that you were interested. I thought maybe we could have a little fun in this godforsaken place, but since that's obviously not something you're capable of, I'm happy to find it somewhere else."

Yikes, talk about a red flag! Then there is Forrest, yet another one of those doormat male leads, existing solely to fall in love with and bolster up our female lead, no matter how poorly she behaves. I cringed so hard in embarrassment for them both, my cheeks were permanently pink while reading this.

And the cherry on top? They were both caring for ill loved ones, but to a degree that was so extreme, these said loved ones had to formulate complicated plans to extricate themselves from this unwelcome, excessive style of smothering and guilt/self-conflagration. My eyes rolleth out of my head, my friends.

At its core, in order for me to buy into a romance, I have to believe that people can fall in love with the main characters, and it just didn't happen here. It's one thing to suspend disbelief, and I'm happy to do so for pretty much every book I read. But the way Margot and Forrest were written, they were just a step too far beyond disbelief for me.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Well hello there, my new favorite series! Delighted to make your acquaintance!

But first, before we go on, a little confession. I'd like to think of myself as an equal opportunity book lover. Much as a parent would find it hard to name a favorite child, I would be similarly discomfited at having to point to a favorite genre. And yet, if you were to really press me, I would have to admit—but only after much hemming and hawing—that it's probably the murder mystery that has my heart. It was my first book love way back when, and even after all these decades, I could never really forget that feeling.

So anytime I crack open a mystery, I'm instantly a kid again, waiting for the intoxicating rush of sinking my teeth into the enigma of it all and being thoroughly swept away. But in order for it to really count, the story must first and foremost be a proper murder mystery. It must have clues, it must have red herrings, and it must have suspicious characters. And of course, at the helm of it all, it must have the all-important clever sleuth or two, there to uncover all the secrets.

And that's exactly what I got here. The Tainted Cup delivers all the goods on its murder mystery, and it does so while also seamlessly fleshing out a whole new fantasy universe. To say I'm impressed doesn't even begin to capture it. It's entirely possible that the kid in me fainted in excitement.

From the very first page, I could feel this story sink its claws into me. We are dropped into the thick of things immediately (there's a murder!), and it only gets better from there. There were so many layers to this compelling and confounding mystery, and I couldn't help but don my thinking cap and armchair detect the whole way through.

It's clear the characters take inspiration from Sherlock Holmes. And while that can be a bit of a hit or miss for me, I'm happy to report that I totally loved it here. Din and Ana both contain the quirkiness of their inspiration but none of their annoyances, and I found them endearing almost from the get-go.

The fantasy world here is a reader's dream, so imaginative and interesting yet so easy to slip into. At times, I almost forgot it's a completely different universe, so vividly was it painted. It's not easy to blend multiple genres together so effortlessly, and I'm always in awe when it happens. And while I wouldn't say you have to enjoy fantasy to read this book, you do have to be a fan of murder mysteries to really appreciate it.

Suffice to say, I am obsessed. It's not often a mystery completely captures me, and to hear that this is the first book of a series is the best news ever. I suspect I'll be gobbling up the next book posthaste.

P.S. The hardcover edition I got didn't come with a dust jacket. Instead, the cover was printed directly onto the book itself, and I'm so on board with that it's not even funny. I actually harbor a low-grade resentment for dust jackets. They're always getting crinkled and mangled while I'm reading and carrying them about, so I absolutely adore this naked book aesthetic.

Readaroo Rating 5 stars!

My first Freida McFadden! And while I wasn't as enamored with The Housemaid as most readers were, I did find it decently entertaining.

To start, I can totally see why people talk about this book as being bingeworthy. It has all the hallmarks of a one-sit read, with short chapters, lots of dialogue, and dramatic developments one after another so you can't look away. There's this perpetual feeling that you can read just one more page, and before you know it, you've read the whole book.

But that isn't to say this is the most original story ever. There were definitely moments as I was reading this that I had the strongest sense of déjà vu, as if I've read the same exact thing somewhere else before. The book cheerfully employs several common thriller elements, and while there is nothing wrong with that, it does make it feel like the story had no real surprises, especially if you've read a lot of thrillers like I have.

One thing I found interesting—and I'm not sure if this was done on purpose—was the humor. On the one hand, the story seemed extremely earnest throughout, with every character and every point of view being serious in the way that thrillers always are. But on the other hand, there were moments when everything was so over the top that it felt like the author must be leaning into it, having a bit of fun at the reader and the story, all in one go.

A lot of reviews mention the bad writing, and I feel like that's a little bit unfair. It isn't that the writing here is bad so much as it is very simplistic. Let me put it this way—my two-year-old was curious about what mama was reading, so I obliged by reading a random passage to him. And he was riveted. He wouldn't let me stop. He even chose this book as his bedtime story three nights in a row! His favorite parts were the discussions about things being clean/dirty, the stormy weather, and the scene with the garbage truck. So there you go, if my toddler can follow along just fine, I think that tells you something.

Was this story entertaining? Yes. But it also left me feeling vaguely unsatisfied, having fulfilled none of my reading cravings. It's the sort of story I was into while reading it, but as soon as I put it down, I had no real desire to pick it back up again. I didn't really care about the characters, I could see where the story was going from a mile away, and reading through it felt like spelling out in long form something I already knew.

The thing is, there is a marked difference between a book keeping your attention because you just happen to have it open versus one you would actively seek out to read. And unfortunately for me, this was too much the former and not enough of the latter.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

I have an urgent need to fix this, but I don't know how.

Hmm let's think about this now. Hey, I know! How about you just tell the truth?

Ah yes, the dreaded miscommunication trope. You dress it up with some slump-inducing descriptive prose, make every character act as weird and paranoid as possible, throw in some instalove, and you have Wild Dark Shore.

But before I really get into it, I just want to say that my opinion here is decidedly in the minority. I see nothing but love for this book, so please take my thoughts with a grain of salt (har har).

When I think of literary fiction, what I'm looking for above all else is convincing characters. I want ones that feel authentic, poignant, and really force me to think about the human condition. I'm not looking for one-dimensional, loony, paranoid characters I could easily find in the most eye-rolling of thrillers. But that's exactly what I got here.

None of the characters' actions that drove the mystery part of this story made any sense. Every bad thing that happened in here can be traced back to the two main characters not talking about one essential topic. Instead, we get a lot of jumpy paranoia between the two of them that magically morphs into... instalust? Okay sure, you got me. I, too, often find myself unable to stop wanting to jump the bones of someone I suspect is trying to kill me.

But it's more than that. I really couldn't connect with any of the characters at all. I didn't like how dismissive Rowan was of her husband and his views, all the while complaining that he couldn't see her side. I didn't like how the book portrayed Hank or mental illness. I didn't like how Dominic reads like a male character written by a female author. None of them really rang true, and it was hard for me to overcome that deficit.

The topic of climate change is a big part of this story and while I appreciate Charlotte McConaghy tackling such an important issue, I feel like it was awkwardly done and lacked subtlety. It often came across as if the author was trying to club me on the head with it, going so far as to include nonfiction passages of nature spoken through the voice of a nine-year-old. To say it felt inauthentic and took me out of the story is an understatement. I wish the author had gone for a more subtle approach, trusting that the reader will follow her, instead of hammering her messages into my head over and over again.

I do feel like the story started to shape into something with emotional resonance towards the last third of the book, and the scene with the whale and her baby was particularly well-done. But then as we progress towards the denouement, we again lost subtlety in favor hamfistedness in the form of a certain development near the end. It felt unnecessary to the story, as if it was put there simply for emotional manipulation, to tug on the heartstrings and wring as much emotion from the reader as possible.

I don't know what else to say other than I feel extremely disappointed with my reading experience. I think this is a case where my expectations just weren't in line with reality. What I wanted was a character-driven mystery with elements of climate change that would really bring something new to the table and leave me with food for thought. What I got instead was some mishmash of eye-rolling domestic thriller and dull descriptive prose, two things sure to put me into a slump.

But hey, what do I know? Like I said, everyone else is loving this, so don't let my grouchiness dissuade you from giving it a try.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

I did not know how it was possible to keep missing them when they were right here.

A striking, poignant tale about loving and longing, A Curse for the Homesick didn't just sweep me away. It left me aching for a place I've never been and people I've never met.

Tess has lived in Stenland all her life. When she was twelve during skeld season, her mom accidentally killed Soren's parents by turning them to stone. For that and many other reasons, Tess wants to leave Stenland and never come back, so she knows falling in love with Soren is not in her cards. But try as they might, they are inexplicably drawn to each other. Soon they must decide what they are willing to risk to be together and what they are willing to give up to stay away.

From the first page, this lyrical tale drew me in. There was a unique quality to the writing that made it both deeply moving and eminently readable. To turn the pages of this book is to step into another world, one almost like ours but with some slight differences. And those differences underpin the crux of this emotive tale.

Usually with coming of age or love stories, the young protagonists always manage to annoy me at one point or another—if not whole way through—with their immaturity and endless drama, but not so here. I could relate as much to Tess's certainty that she couldn't stay as to Soren's belief that he cannot leave his homeland. Their anguish felt genuine and poignant, ringing true on all fronts.

I have to give props to the way magical realism is handled in here. We never get stuck in overly convoluted explanations, never mired in the weeds of the how's and the why's. The magical realism is simply the tool to explore whether it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, and it does so to perfection.

The setting and the characters in here are all so vivid, it was hard to remember at times that this place and these characters aren't actually real. I found myself mulling over Stenland and its skeld curse, wondering if I could pinpoint the exact location on a map if I were to look it up.

About the lyrical writing, I feel like I have to say something so potential readers don't get scared away. Because let's be honest, to call a narrative lyrical can be a good thing and a bad thing. It's good because who doesn't love beautiful writing? But it also brings to mind slow moving and excessively descriptive prose, there to exhaust even the most enthusiastic of readers. Thankfully, there's no such fears here. There is a sharpness to the writing and a wittiness to the dialogue that infuses every page with a sparkle and urgency, and we never lose the momentum of a well-paced story.

I can't remember the last time a book managed to achieve so much—beautiful writing, witty banter, a compelling plot, characters with so much depth and emotions—all in one narrative. And it does so with a poignancy so visceral, it's guaranteed to stay with you long after the story is done.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

When a book is off to as exciting of a start as this one, is it realistic to expect the rest of the book to match or even exceed that? Hmm, that's a question I'm still pondering.

Cam drops off her baby girl at daycare for the first time and returns to work. But before she does, she woke up to an empty spot next to her and a cryptic note from her husband that morning. And now, the police are at her workplace insisting that Luke is in a hostage situation, not as a victim, but as the perpetrator. But Cam knows Luke, and surely he could not possibly have done what the police are saying. Could he?

You guys, this has got to be the most electrifying start to a thriller I've ever come across. The first 100 pages just grabbed me by the throat. I've read a lot of thrillers, but I've never had one that held me in its thralls so swiftly and so surely. The premise is both outrageous and also surprisingly relatable, making it easy to put oneself in Cam's shoes and slip into her suddenly insane world.

Cam's point of view has additional poignancy because she's a new mother, and I remember being in that phase not so long ago myself. Gillian McAllister sprinkled in such insightful commentary about new motherhood that it felt like she really understood, and of course, after reading the Acknowledgements, it totally made sense because she had a baby in the midst of writing this book.

Then we come to the point of view of Niall, the hostage negotiator. It's such a unique perspective, and there were all kinds of interesting tidbits in there about what one would do in an actual hostage situation, things I've never thought about but found utterly fascinating. The juxtaposition of his and Cam's views really upped the tension to a whole other level previously unseen in thrillers, if I may say so.

But then we reach Act II, and the pace slows way down. After the adrenaline rush that was Act I, the pacing of Act II was almost a shock. Instead of action, we have now reached introspection. And we stay in this slow moving haze almost all the way until the very end.

Because this whole section was so slow and there was so much rumination on the part of the characters, it also gave me the reader room to think as well. And when that happens, you know I'm going to figure out something or other, and therefore ruin the surprises for myself. And the way this story slowly proceeded, there was really only one way it could've all gone down.

Please don't get me wrong. It's not that I didn't like Act II or found it boring. It's more that the beginning of the book set up certain expectations, ones where I can't help but anticipate and then feel a little let down by the way it all turned out. To be fair, it's not entirely the fault of the book. This happens often with me and thrillers, and unless aliens or ghosts show up—in which case, we'd be in a completely different genre altogether—I don't really see how they could've met my lofty expectations.

Still, all my grousing aside, I did have a lot of fun with this book. The first 100 pages in particular were so stellar, I feel like they carried the rest of the book for me. At this point, Gillian McAllister has really shown herself to be a writer of thrillers with the most unusual and intriguing premises, and I can't wait to see what she comes up with next.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

"You get the world you're willing to fight for."

Ah. We've now come to the exhilarating conclusion of The Crimson Moth duology, and let me tell you, my friends, it does not disappoint.

We start off soon after the end of the first book, and it's as if I've never left. Everything I loved is back—the characters, the enemies-to-lovers romance, the unbelievably high stakes and the even bloodier conflicts. And just like its predecessor, Rebel Witch was unputdownable from the first page to the last, and I couldn't have been more thrilled with how it all went down.

One of the things that impressed me the most about this series is the ease in which one can just slip into this world and its magic system. When it comes to reading fantasy, there is nothing worse than onerous or confusing worldbuilding, all happening at the expense of the reader's ability to be fully immersed. So I'm always delighted when I open the first page of any book, and I'm immediately sucked in.

I have to talk about the enemies-to-lovers here. It's a trope lots of books try, but hardly any get right. That's because it's hard to come up with a reasonable premise in which two people who hate each other could not only grow to love each other, but would actually have the time and opportunity to do so. Enter this duology and its searing romance, taking that trope and totally hitting it out of the park.

Romantasies can really run the gamut in terms of how much fantasy versus romance they each have. Some are predominantly fantasy with just a smidge of romance and some have lots of romance with nary a whiff of fantasy. This duology really strikes the perfect balance between the two. Both are crucial to the story, but neither overshadow the other. As a result, I do feel like you have to be able to enjoy some romance in order to appreciate this series, though maybe you don't necessarily have to be a huge fan of fantasy, if that makes sense.

Also, let's not beat around the bushes here. It's clear a big reason why this was such a riveting read is that it's two books and we're done. I hope it's not blasphemous to say in a genre and era dominated by ever longer multi-book series, but I like them succinct. It's not always better to have more books, especially when there isn't more content. So it's refreshing to come across standalones and duologies that get to the point, where every scene matters and the narrative is motivated to move forward at a snappy rate.

The one thing to note (and I thought the same about the first book) is that this very much feels like an adult story even though it is marketed as YA. The themes in here are undeniably mature, including scenes of violence, torture, death, blood, and sex. Honestly, there are plenty of adult books tamer than this. So watch out if your young 'uns want to read this, is what I'm saying.

It's hard not to get caught up in the story here. Every component, while not super unique, comes together and clicks so well, you're just swept away into the world of witches and the New Republic. I think if you're looking for a fun romantasy, you can't reasonably ask for more than this.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

But then when the anger fades, the sadness comes right back again the same as ever.

Oh my word! Anne Tyler, where have you been all my life?

On the surface, this seems like such a simple story. We follow Gail Baines on the eve of her daughter's wedding, where everything is set to go off without a hitch. So then why does Gail feel somewhat disappointed that she wasn't invited to the bridal spa day, whatever that is? On top of that, she has just found out that she might be losing her job at age sixty-one. And then Gail's ex-husband shows up at her house with a cat in tow, and it really is starting to feel like more than she bargained for.

What a understated, yet poignant little novella this turned out to be. While not much happens on the surface, it feels so sharp and observant underneath. Every scene is one lifted out of everyday life, but infused with so much meaning and emotion and humor. And together, they constitute a glimpse into a life well-lived but also one full of human follies.

Maybe one reason this works so well is that the author chose to keep it short. It's a novella, so the story doesn't go on longer than there is content for. It's as long as it needs to be, and then it's wrapped up. So every scene in here feels like it was put there with meaning and impact.

I loved the messages in here, that every life and every relationship can be joyful but also quietly messy. And that as we grow older, we needn't always remain exactly the same, that there is room and opportunity for change and second chances and discovery and rediscovery. And while such a message and delivery is not nearly as dramatic as most thrillers would have you believe is necessary, the quiet drama in here hits so much harder than those over the top ones ever could.

I cannot believe Anne Tyler has written twenty-five novels, and this is only my first by her. I feel like I have been looking for writing like this for a long time. Even though I am late to the party, I'm glad to have finally arrived. And now I've got her long backlist to keep me busy.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

You even hint at a Beauty and the Beast retelling, and of course I'm there. But not only did this not satisfy my dark fairy tale heart, it didn't even make for a decent story.

Birdie is a single mother to a young girl, and she knows life is tough. She's scraping by working at a bar in Alaska, but all she wants is freedom. When she meets Arthur, it doesn't take long before she realizes he could be the answer to her prayers. She and her daughter move out soon after to live with him in the wilderness. But there is another side to Arthur that Birdie can't acknowledge, and just maybe it's the most dangerous thing of all.

Let's start with the romance. I'll tell you what, romance books catch so much flack for instalove and they've got nothing on what happened here. From the moment Birdie meets Arthur, she incessantly tries to engage with him. After a few awkward, mostly one-sided conversations—you know, cause Arthur's (spoiler: a bear) so he doesn't talk much—Birdie decides that she must really like the guy. So she invites herself and her daughter to live with him at his cabin in the remote wilderness. Hmm, after such an auspicious start, I'm sure nothing bad can happen.

Of course, sex and instalove go hand in hand, so there's Birdie constantly trying to have sex with Arthur. After he runs away from her a few times, they finally succeed, only for the session to be described as if she's having sex with (spoiler: a bear), complete with lots of pawing and biting. The whole thing came off as a bit creepy, not gonna lie. By this point, I'm starting to get a sense that maybe this story isn't going to be all that I was hoping for.

But it isn't just Birdie and Arthur's romance I found icky. I also couldn't stand Birdie as a person. Every issue in this story stemmed from her poor decision making and lack of common sense. She was so self-centered and negligent in parenting, she often left her young child by herself without any warning or provisions. We kept having to read about how poor Emaleen was left stranded by herself yet again, cold and hungry and worried that her mother ran off without her. By the third time, I was pretty much fed up.

Every time I think the story couldn't get any more outlandish or offensive, there is yet another development that has my jaw dropping in shock. The only way this could've worked would be as horror or satire, but unfortunately it's not. It's as earnest literary fiction as they come.

The writing matches the dreary landscape, full of dull paragraphs about the Alaskan wilderness and dialogues that lacked even an ounce of spark. There were many moments I was just skim-reading, hoping desperately for something to catch my attention.

It's such a shame because there were a few scenes of true insightfulness in here, but they were completely overshadowed by the bizarre story. At one point, Birdie was pondering her desire not to miss a single moment with her child versus her need for independence to be her own person. That constant tug and pull of motherhood resonated with me so much, I wanted to cry. Another poignant scene had Warren and Emaleen sitting side by side, finding common ground with each other while taking the moment to appreciate the natural world.

But those two scenes were it. The rest of the story was so bizarre and appalling, I'm at a loss. I kept waiting for it to turn around, to redeem itself, but it only got worse and worse.

What was the author hoping to accomplish here? What was the point of all this? That there is no redemption for anyone? That animals lack humanity and don't deserve second chances? I really don't know. All I know is that this didn't satisfy my fairy tale itch—or even just the itch for a good coherent story. I hated almost every moment of it and am glad to be done.

Readaroo Rating: 1 star

Phew. There was a lot I enjoyed in this story, but also a lot that was a bit too much.

Let's start with the good stuff. The ice dancing! It was fascinating to get a glimpse into this well known, if lesser burnished stepsibling of the figure skating discipline. The competitions, the practice, the sacrifices, the years and years of hard work just for one glorious moment that will live on forever or a mediocre one soon to be forgotten, are all things I can get behind.

I'm loving this recent trend in books of following a fictional athlete, movie star, or musician on their path to superstardom, offering a behind-the-scenes look into their meteoric rise as well as their shocking fall from glory, often using a mixed media format to make the whole thing feel as authentic as possible. Layne Fargo must have done tremendous research into ice dancing to achieve this level of detail, and it makes for a riveting read, one that's hard to look away from.

I thought the first half of the book was about as exciting as they come. I was totally invested in Kat and Heath's journey from kids who loved skating to world-class champions on the international stage. I'm never going to say no to stories about starting from nothing and—through sheer determination and grit, hard work and sacrifices—end up achieving all their hopes and dreams. Those tales will always be special to me.

But even in the first half, I was starting to get an inkling of the things to come that would annoy me. Kat and Heath gave off tragic, melodramatic vibes in pretty much every scene they're in together; the interpersonal relationships of almost all the characters in here whiffed of toxic; and eye-rolling obstacles would pop up right before every major competition, preventing anyone from ever getting the coveted gold medal.

So imagine that, but dialed up even more, and we have now arrived at the second half of this book. Every small quibble I had in the first half was magnified, with more drama, more heartbreak, more miscommunication, more more more. I tell you, my fairly simple drama-free heart couldn't take such overload.

I have to wonder, how did the author come up with so many different yet equally unpleasant characters and manage to squeeze them all into the same story? Their selfishness and interpersonal theatrics led to conflicts popping up left and right, often to lamentable results. And what I loved from the first half, the ice dancing, was forced to take a backseat.

But that isn't the crux of the issue. Where this really went off the rails for me was its confusion over exactly what type of story it was trying to be. Was this meant to be a realistic sports docudrama or an over-the-top psychological thriller? For one is meant to depict things so realistic that we forget what we're reading is fiction, while the other requires us to suspend our disbelief in order to ingest as much craziness as we can.

And so this story tries to straddle both, expecting the reader to suspend disbelief while also expecting us to take everything we read as gospel. And that just didn't work for me. The lead up to the climax, in particular, was so eye-popping looney, I totally lost my ability to buy into this story.

My thoughts are decidedly in the minority here, so don't let me dissuade you. I think if you're looking for a salacious bonanza and you're able to buy into it no matter how wacky the tale gets, this is a good one for you. I guarantee you won't be able to put it down.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

True storytelling has always been one of the few great things humanity could produce that no automation could.

Wow. It is not often I am without words, but Death of the Author has left me speechless and astounded.

I don't even know how to talk about this book because it isn't like anything else I've ever read. I'm going to try to come at it from a few different angles, so bear with me as I get my thoughts and feelings untangled here.

First, the genre. This is the perfect symbiosis of science fiction and contemporary lit. (If you're already thinking to yourself, huh? Yeah, like I said, you haven't seen anything like it before.) We alternate between the story of the writer, Zelu, and the story within the story of the robots, and each is its own riveting tale.

Zelu's narrative is instantly arresting. There is a lot going on, so I imagine every reader will bring their own experiences into it and take away something different. Racism, ableism, fame, social media, societal and familial pressure, the immigrant experience in general and the Nigerian American experience in particular were all integrated seamlessly and explored deftly within this compelling narrative.

Zelu is so richly drawn, she just leaps off the pages. You don't see many books featuring disabled main characters, so my interests were instantly peaked. Then the more I got to know her, the more dynamic and fierce she became. I wouldn't say she is particularly likable, but she's undeniably fascinating. And this narrative is her journey of formation and transformation, her coming of life, if you will.

Then we arrive at my favorite part of the book, and that is the robot story. (Come on now, you know how much I love sci-fi, so you can't possibly be surprised.) I adored every minute of this science fiction journey. It was such a creative tale through and through, embedded with social and political commentary relevant to our times. Every scene felt both captivating and profound, and it evoked such WALL E-esque feelings in me.

What does it mean to hold onto humanity when there are no humans left? And can the power of storytelling transcend those who invented it? Those are the questions Ankara the robot faces as she traverses a post-human apocalyptic world to make sense of herself and what's around her.

I know a lot of people think science fiction is inaccessible, but to me, the best of this genre always zeroes in on precisely what it means to be human. It encompasses our hopes and dreams, our emotions, our faith, and our will to survive. And so this story does too.

With her clear, precise prose, Nnedi Okorafor is able to hold a multitude of emotions within her sentences. They evoke feelings of love and conflict, logic and passion, nostalgia for the past but also hope for the future. To write a story partially from a robot's point of view and to inject so much emotion into the whole thing is nothing short of remarkable.

To experience this story and to see the two narrative strands weave back and forth, reflected in each other, as they slowly grow closer and closer, is to watch a master storyteller in action. And that ending, goodness me. I'm going to need many moments (days, weeks, months) to think on it and then think on it some more.

You know that feeling you get when you're in the midst of an extraordinary book, where every page causes goosebumps on your arms and tingles to run up and down your spine? And the moment you're done, you just want to go back to page one and start all over again? Well, that's this book right here.

More than anything, this pays homage to the power of storytelling. If you're a reader—and surely we all are—then this book comes as close as any to put into words why we read and what stories do for our hearts and our souls.

“I feel satisfied, but also not. It reminds me of myself, but it is not about me. I feel like I’ve met those I have never met. I’m thinking things I never thought before. I have many questions. Will you help me understand this?”

A singular and audacious tale deserving of all the praise. Surely one not to be missed.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

Gideon would come for her, and when he did, Rune would be ready.

Okay, this would have to be the enjoyable witchy story I've read in quite some time.

Rune Winters is a witch, but no one can find out. For in the New Republic, to admit to being a witch is tantamount to treason, punishable by having your throat slit and strung up to bleed out in the public square. Rune watched her beloved grandmother die this way, and she can't stand by and do nothing while others suffer the same fate . But she's going up against the Blood Guard, an elite group of soldiers bent on purging witches. And their captain, Gideon Sharpe, is the most lethal of all. In order to save others of her kind, she'll have no choice but to seduce him and gain his confidence.

When we're talking about enemies-to-lovers (in my opinion, one of the most interesting tropes out there), I often feel like the enemy part isn't taken very seriously. In place of real enemies, you're more likely to come across weak rivals or even snarky acquaintances, who are then forced to interact in ever more outlandish ways in order to satisfy the "enemy" trope. So you can imagine my surprise and delight when Rune and Gideon turned out to be actual enemies, with good reason to hate each other and want each other dead. Well then, let the games begin, shall we?

I love it when a story grabs you right off the bat, and Heartless Hunter does just that. There's no awkward worldbuilding, no confusing backstories. Right from the first page, we're sucked into the thick of things and it doesn't stop from there. The magical system is clear and easy to understand so we can focus on the good stuff, and that's what's happening between Rune and Gideon.

The witch and the witch hunter must engage in a cat and mouse game in which each is trying to outmaneuver the other. Both are committed to their cause and believe it's worth fighting to the death for. To mess up is to face deadly consequences, so the stakes could not be higher. You then sprinkle in a bit of attraction between the two, and how could I not be riveted?

But I don't want to overemphasize the romance part because I think that undersells the story and it isn't the main reason why I found it so interesting. It's the matching of the wits and how the two enemies must always stay one step ahead of the other. In particular, I loved Rune's character and how she approached the obstacles in her way. She's smart and courageous in face of overwhelming odds, and she's exactly the sort of heroine I get excited about.

The only thing I'm a little surprised by is that this is marketed as young adult. The violence, the themes, and the sexual content all seem pretty on par with any adult fantasy I've ever read, and it even has one spicy scene. The only young adult part of it is the age of the characters, so just be aware if that concerns you.

I wouldn't say this story treads new ground, but what it does, it does supremely well. It was such a fun and entertaining read from beginning to end, and I can't wait to get to the sequel.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

You dangle ancient Egyptian curses in front of me, and I'm going to sign up every time. But I feel like The Stolen Queen wasn't quite what I was expecting.

At its core, this is more of a found family and coming-of-age story than anything else. Its characters were its strongest component, and it was satisfying to follow Charlotte through her archeological journey and Annie through her Met Gala adventures while seeing them gain confidence and grow into themselves.

Another thing the story got right was the atmosphere, from the dusty ancient archeological sites to the hushed reverence of the Met to the glamour and excitement of its party of the year. It makes you feel like you are really there.

While the story did keep me engaged throughout, I wouldn't say it was unputdownable at any point. The dual timeline is really more of a triple narrative, with Charlotte and Annie both in the present and Charlotte also in the past. That means anytime we build up momentum, we immediately switch to a different scene, which has the effect of slowing the pacing down.

Of course the Egyptian slant with its ancient history and antiquities and curses is what really drew me to this story in the first place. But before you get too excited, you should know there are no actual paranormal events in here. This takes place solidly in our physical world, and so all mysteries are precipitated by human actions.

If I were to point to one thing that fell short for me in here, it's that everything comes across just a smidge too superficial and wrap up a bit too nicely. There is this persistent feeling that nothing is on the line, that everything will work out for everyone. And because of that, it lacks the all-important tension that really propels a story forward and keeps the reader glued to the pages.

Nevertheless, I think historical fiction fans will find this enjoyable, and the ancient Egyptian angle certainly adds a compelling note to the whole thing. Just make sure you set expectations correctly going in that this is really more cozy than thrilling.

Readaroo Rating: 3.5 stars

You know what, ironically, makes readers care about who has written the book? A pseudonym.

Hmm really? Cause that's not been my experience.

If you know me, you know my usual complaint with books is that they have intriguing premise and lackluster execution. But in this case, we have the opposite problem. The Three Lives of Cate Kay's weak premise makes it hard for the story to go anywhere. And so in order for interesting things to happen, we're forced to watch characters behave in artificial and forced ways, all in the service of having a story at all.

To my absolute consternation, the dreaded miscommunication trope runs amok in here. Every time I see it in a book, I can feel my eyeballs roll to the back of my head. But this story really takes it to town with its liberal and quite frankly, shameless usage. The entire plotline hinges on these pointless misunderstandings that could easily be cleared up, if only the characters behaved in ways that actually made sense.

But really, all the interactions were a little bit off. Everyone was obsessed with the main character, latching onto her the moment they meet her and fighting for her attention. She comes off the pages as pedestrian and even a bit unlikable at times, yet the story makes her out to be super special. The other points of view don't feel genuine either, too polished and into Cate Kay to really be authentic.

There were so many moments sold as insightful or momentous, yet it all felt like much ado about nothing. Like we'd be told how readers really care who the author is behind a book, but do they? Or how profound "cosmic bigness" is, but okaaay? Or what a clever name Cate Kay is, but I keep mispronouncing it as Cat Kay in my head? (That last one might be just me.)

Even the book within a book didn't match its lofty promise. Here is a supposedly bestselling book, one in which the world is in such a frenzy over that everyone is dying to find out who the author is behind the pseudonym. Yet every passage quoted is so drab and dull, I find it hard to believe this could've caught any reader's attention, let alone the entire world.

So it's all these seemingly little things, sprinkled in everywhere, that add up to make me feel unable to buy into this story. There is a cognitive dissonance here that always reminds me what I'm reading isn't real, that these characters are fake. And at the end of the day, when you're talking about a fictional memoir, the characters are the only thing that really matter. If I can't connect with them, then I just can't connect with the story.

Readaroo Rating: 2.5 stars

Can you really fill 500 pages with nothing but posturing and dithering, and call it a book? Apparently you can.

What the heck happened here? Was Rebecca Yarros kidnapped and an imposter wrote this book? Did she crack under the pressure and had to ChatGPT it? Because this doesn't resemble at all the series I've come to know and love, and I'm left pretty speechless (well, not so speechless that I can't rant).

Let's start by asking the most crucial question of all: did anything of consequence actually happen in this book? And the answer is unfortunately no. No plot was furthered, no stakes were raised. In fact, the end of the book is where I thought it would begin, so you can imagine my bewilderment at all the pages in between.

So what were these hundreds of pages filled with? Endless scenes of Violet and Xaden declaring how much they love each other (yeah, we get it) while throwing a fit at anyone who dare disagree (wah wah), interspersed with political intrigue that didn't amount to anything (who are these randos?) and quests that didn't amount to anything either (who even cares).

Where is the tension of the first book? Where are the jaw-dropping reveals of the second? But what the third book lacks from the first two, it amply made up by being inexplicably confusing. There were so many needless characters and locations mentioned, none of which really mattered. I kept flipping back and forth to the map, trying and failing to discern what it is I'm meant to take away from those moments.

Every scene in the first book felt essential and memorable, and the same could be said for the second book (minus the ones related to Violet and Xaden's mind-numbing conflicts). And yet, I come to a close on the third book and can hardly point to even one thing in here that stood out. Honestly, I barely remember what happened because nothing actually did.

And in place of real developments, we get non-reveals disguised under intentionally obscure writing. Instead of calling something or someone by its name, we get treated to vague pronouns like "it", "he", and "she", only for the subject to be divulged many pages later once the reader is good and befuddled. And each time this happened, it was treated like a reveal, as if we readers are too dumb to notice we've been had.

Violet and Xaden's interactions border on insufferable in here. What made their relationship compelling in the first book was the intrigue of enemies-to-lovers. That quickly started wearing thin in the second book, and by the time we get to this one, all the shine had fallen off. The trope is over and done with two books ago, so why is Yarros still harping on it? After all, there's a reason why lovers-who-can't-stand-to-be-apart isn't a trope, and it's because no one wants to read that whiny crap.

Just to cement how far this has deviated from the series I love, we only need to look at the end of this book. What I expected was to be wowed by a supremely shocking development on the fantasy side, something to tide me over for the next however many years it will take Yarros to write the next book. Instead, we get a trivial update on Violet and Xaden's relationship, presented as if it's the sort of epiphany that will keep me coming back for book 4. No, thanks.

At one point while trudging through this, I started to doubt myself and my love for the series, wondering if I'd imagined the whole thing and was just caught up in the hype. Then in a moment of confusion, I went to look something up in the first book and was immediately and thoroughly sucked in, only managing to tear myself away two hours later. Reading them side by side, the difference in the quality and immersiveness of the two books is stark and dispiriting. And when I would rather reread a book I'd already read in the series than the shiny new installment, you know something is terribly wrong.

Which brings us to the question of why does this book even exist in the first place. Did Yarros think this was an essential tale that needed to be told, but it somehow went off the rails during the writing process? Did she take inspiration from Peter Jackson and The Hobbit and try to squeeze as many books as possible out of the smallest amount of content? Or did she get talked into a five-parter by her publishing team against her better judgement? Whatever the reason, I can't help but think this book is such a poor showing, surely many of her readers will not continue from here.

It isn't just that this book is filler. It's that it's such trite, garbled, confused filler as to make me lose confidence in the author and her ability to deliver the rest of the series. This book not only reeks of confusion for the reader, but it also seems like Yarros herself is confused too, as if even she doesn't know where her series is going. And that is disheartening indeed.

When I first started this series, I went in with some trepidation. Rebecca Yarros comes from a romance background, so I thought there was a chance she wouldn't be able to balance fantasy and romance in the same story. I was afraid that she would prioritize the romance to the detriment of the fantasy, and three books in, my worst fears are realized. Maybe her original fanbase is thrilled by this book, but as a reader who got hooked on Fourth Wing primarily because of its fantasy badassery—dragons, signets, heroes and heroines, you name it—this book doesn't deliver any of what I wanted.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

I feel like to really enjoy Ali Hazelwood and her brand of romance, you have to be someone who loves nerdy science talk and wacky banter, the more the better and preferably all in the same sentence. Lucky for me, that's exactly the sort of thing I enjoy.

Let's start with the science here. Hannah and Ian both work for NASA on engineering teams that land rovers on Mars. Yeah, I pretty much hyperventilated when I realized that was the setting of their romance. It harkens back to my youth when I dreamed of working for NASA, so you can understand my excitement. Then you add in the copious amounts of technical jargon that Hazelwood always sprinkles into her stories and my space-loving heart was just blown into smithereens.

Of course as always, the dialogue was on point and had me in stitches from beginning to end. It's not just the conversation between our two mains. It's also all the side chatter and even the inner dialogue. Everything felt so sharp and witty and thoroughly delightful.

One thing is that Hazelwood's stories do tend to rely excessively on the miscommunication trope. So it's with relief that I report the conflicts in here actually make sense and it's not just two people deciding not to say simple things to each other. And since it's a novella, the conflicts don't drag on and on, but rather is resolved swiftly and with satisfaction.

I loved this story so much! I only wish Hazelwood had saved the premise for a full-length novel instead so I could've had more of it.

Readaroo Rating: 4.5 stars

I don't think I've read a domestic thriller this fun since Gone Girl. And I'll tell you why.

Domestic thrillers are hard to write. Usually, there's only two relevant characters, the guy and the gal. One of them did it (whatever "it" is). Is it him? Is it her? Or is it some crazy combination of them both? And once you've read a few, you kind of have the genre figured out and it starts to feel rather repetitive. So it's rare for a story that utilizes this technique to grab me. And this one did.

We have the gal, Rosie, who is desperate to find her soulmate, so desperate in fact that she's coming across as a little bit unhinged. When her bum heart is replaced by the heart of a dead woman, she sees the opportunity to make all her dreams come true. Now enters the guy. For wouldn't it just be fate if she could capture the love of the man whose dead wife's heart now beats in her chest? It sure would, as long as he is the dream man she thinks he is.

I was sucked in from the very first page. Every moment felt essential and interesting, there to entertain me and keep me guessing. Just when I think I've got it figured out, another revelation had me gasping and reconfiguring the puzzle pieces in my head.

But this is a book of two halves, for what starts out as a domestic thriller doesn't remain that way. About halfway through, it morphs into the most interesting of mysteries. Not only did the twist there take me by surprise, but so did the slight genre shift. It feels like a gutsy move, to start a book as one kind of thriller and end it on a different one.

None of the characters were truly likable, yet they were all intriguing. I cared about them and I wanted to know more even though they were all shades of crazy. You know, there's a fine line between kooky characters you want more of versus those you just don't care about. And this book got it exactly right.

I mean, could the events in this book actually happen in real life? Um, I sure hope not. Do you need to suspend all disbelief to read this? Yeah, absolutely. But if you can, I guarantee you'll be in for a very good time.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Did we all read the same book? Because this was... not good.

In general, I feel like fantasy is a genre I can rely on. Give me an interesting premise, a half-decent execution, some badass heroes and heroines, and I'm pleased as punch. And yet, here comes One Dark Window, making me rethink my entire love for this genre. Because I'm hard pressed to point to even one thing that I truly enjoyed in here.

Let's start with our characters. Wow, were they dumb. Elspeth could barely do anything without first being told, whether it's to be quiet or to run. She and her merry band of allies make one misstep after another, including rushing into battles they shouldn't and distracting each other during crucial moments. I have a hard time believing these characters could even function, let alone save the kingdom.

Neither were they likable, especially our heroine. Elspeth is about the weakest protagonist to have ever graced a fantasy. She gets so easily offended at everything, hates every person she sees, and is constantly tearing up from hurt feelings. Boo hoo. She also seems unable to eat, losing her appetite at every meal, poor thing. But perhaps I'm too quick to judge, and what I attribute to her unlikable personality is simply because she is hangry?

The supporting characters aren't much better, and together, there is this feeling that it's a group of idiots just trampling around getting themselves into trouble. But not to worry, because the villains aren't any smarter either. At one point, one of our good guys gets into an argument with one of the bad guys, and—no joke, you guys—the argument was decided by glaring. Like the one who glared harder and longer was the victor and the other was forced to lower his gaze in shame.

Or another of my favorite scenes—one of our villains forces our merry band to play a game where everyone is compelled by magic to tell the truth, and each can have a turn asking a question of every other person. Ah, I could feel the tension in the air, for here's the moment when the truth will be revealed. And then comes the questions—who wants to marry who, who is better looking, who loves who. I tell you, I shriveled up and died a little on the inside.

The worldbuilding feels both so detailed that you suffer from information overload (why so many cards and characters?), but also not sharp enough that you really feel immersed in the universe. The way information is parsed out, one teeny tiny bit at a time, is to maximize the reveals later on, so you're often confused for no good reason in the meantime. And when the reveals finally do happen, they weren't even that surprising.

Of course, this wouldn't be a romantasy without the requisite romance and the one in here is about as bland as they come. Why were Elspeth and Ravyn attracted to each other? The book certainly doesn't make it clear. And not only that, but when they do finally come together, there is quite the ick factor because of The Nightmare in her head, watching the whole thing. Eww!

You know the scene that really cemented my disillusionment with this book though? When a character was cold (not magically cold, mind you, just cold from being outside for too long), and one of our idiots used a Scythe card to warm them up. Never mind that using magic costs the wielder irreparable damage. That I can look overlook. What I can't overlook is that the Scythe card doesn't work that way. It changes someone's emotions, not what they actually are (as the book had already explained at length). So instead of actually warming up the poor dope, they just made them think they feel warmer.

I have to draw the line somewhere, and when the magic system is written so wishy washy and without sharpness that even the author got herself confused, that's when I finally realized this book isn't going to cut it

Now, if you're wondering if you should give this a go, I suggest you read the version that everyone else read and definitely not the one that I did. Good luck.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

I found the first half to be as sharp and piercing as they come, but then the second half kind of lost me.

We start off with Keru and Nate each taking a turn inviting their parents to vacation with them. Keru's Chinese parents are strict and emotionally guarded, while Nate's white, working-class parents don't quite know what to make of their son's career in academia. So when you throw these characters together, surely comedy and conflict ensues.

And it does. That first part definitely had me chuckling and shaking my head, with its sharp, satirical commentary of the typical dynamics within a Chinese American family and a white working-class family. Add to that the factor of marrying outside of your race and class, and each scene felt like such a zinger. The frequent misunderstandings and earnest hurt feelings made for a searing and funny read.

But I'm not sure I was as enamored with the second part of the book. At times, it became too exaggerated and I had a hard time relating to the characters and their inflexible ways. It feels like in Part Two, they became caricature of the people they were in Part One, ever more obstinate and set in their ways. I saw less and less of the humor I had previously enjoyed, and I just felt sad for the characters.

This isn't that long of a read. It honestly feels a bit like one of those stories where the author came up with a specific situation and wrote a novel around it. As a result, that original premise of vacationing with the parents shines as the story's strongest part. The rest of it did feel less focused, as if it were there to pad a great scene out into a full-length novel.

But don't let me dissuade you. I feel like this is my usual complaint with literary fiction, that I always expect more than it gives me. I hope to walk away with food for thought, but instead, the rather directionless culminations always leave me more befuddled than enlightened.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

This book feels a lot like its more famous successor Big Little Lies, only without any of the fun or insight.

In both stories, we follow three women facing their own problems and dilemmas. Here in The Husband's Secret, we have Cecilia, Rachel, and Tess. Cecilia is at the center of this story. Her husband is the one with the earth-shattering secret, and before we are through, each of the three women will feel its repercussions.

Okay, if I had to pinpoint the biggest issue for me, it’s probably the bland and strangely indistinguishable characters. I had trouble keeping them and their children and relatives—of which there were many—square and straight throughout the story, and they somehow all blended together in my mind.

They also weren't exactly the most likeable of people. They were fairly wrapped up in themselves, and it made it hard to connect with them. Here we have these characters each dealing with their own bad fortunes and predicaments, and yet, I just couldn't make myself care. At times, I even caught myself hoping things wouldn't work out in their favor, which was rather discombobulating since I knew I was supposed to cheer for them.

And then there were the actual issues they were each facing. Their moral dilemmas should’ve been interesting and given me much food for thought, but here again, I just couldn't get into them. There was something that didn't quite ring true about the whole thing, as if I knew these characters were not real and neither were their issues, and I was being sold a story all along.

This all sounds terrible, but it really wasn't that bad. It just lacks the wit and spark I've come to associate with Liane Moriarty. Of course, this story is one of her older ones and every writer grows with experience, so maybe this was the necessary stepping stone on the way to writing bigger and better books. If so, I guess I'm okay with that.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars