I've got to hand it to Liane Moriarty. Apples Never Fall has got to be one of the most scintillating family dramas I've ever read.

Joy Delaney, beloved wife and mother of four, has disappeared. Her adult children are rightfully aghast, but they're reluctant to report her missing. They know the prime suspect will be their father, and to be honest, they're not quite sure of his innocence. When the police starts asking questions, it quickly becomes clear everyone in the family has stories to tell and secrets to hide. But how long can they hold out before all is laid bare?

First and foremost, this is a story about dysfunctional families, and I just love me a good one of those. Every member of the Delaney family is distinct and compelling, and when you throw in the game of tennis, sibling rivalries, the mother's disappearance, and that decidedly strange interloper to their family home, the tale gets interesting real quick.

I can't get over the premise. It's such a fascinating dilemma, and I couldn't stop myself from chewing it over. What would I do in this situation—would I side with my father or against him if I suspected he murdered my mother? I love a good moral quandary, and this story perfectly captured the nuances that such a predicament would bring to a family.

What I've always adored about Moriarty's writing is her sharp and astute observations about people and their flaws. She has this ability to peel back the layers of family relationships and what it means to be human, and to expose everything beautiful and ugly within, all the while injecting just the right amount of humor. This book hit upon tender subjects familiar to everyone, yet instead of making me cry, it made me laugh.

Needless to say, I found the whole thing to be utterly riveting. The characters were memorable, the dialogue snappy, and the strife felt all too real. I devoured it in just a few days. And while the mystery wasn't the core of this book, there were still plenty of revelations along the way to keep me on my toes.

If I had one quibble, it would have to be the ending. I'm not a fan of when a story is clearly wrapped up, and then the author goes on to continue some more, often to its detriment. And that's kind of what happened here. The last few chapters really weren't necessary, and including them caused the story to veer off course and end on a slight odd note. But that's a minor complaint, and I could very well ignore that last bit in my head (which I've already done) in favor of the rest of the story.

If you're considering this, do keep one thing in mind—to properly enjoy it, you have to have the right mindset. This isn't a mystery/thriller and you would be sorely disappointed if you went in expecting that. In fact, this isn't even its milder domestic suspense cousin. This is straight up a dysfunctional family drama, and Joy's disappearance is simply a plot device used to drive the narrative forward.

I feel like when Liane Moriarty writes what she knows best, there's almost nothing better. And this tale of the dysfunctional Delaney family certainly turned out to be quite the startling and dazzling gem.

Readaroo Rating: 4.5 stars

But these were the Storms.

Yes, so you remind me every other paragraph. But I'm going to need a little more than that to sustain my interests.

DNF - What is happening to my summer reading? I feel like I keep picking up books, then DNFing them. This one had so much potential, and yet the pages are filled with, well, nothing but filler. The dialogue was bland, the plot seemed nonexistent, and the siblings can all be interchanged with one another.

The thing is, name dropping and bad storm analogies do not constitute a story. My bar isn't that high. Whatever is on the pages just has to be slightly more interesting than what I've conjured up in my mind from skimming the blurb. And this did not, sadly, pass that low bar.

It reads like I've accidentally eavesdropped on a boring conversation where all the interesting bits have been cut out and the most tedious and obvious parts dwelled and expanded upon.

Maybe it's my old age, but I'm running out of time and no longer have patience for books with basic dialogue and no plot. So, onto the next.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

If Evelyn Hugo put Taylor Jenkins Reid on the map, then surely Daisy Jones is the one that cements her dominance over the expansive landscape of fictional memoirs.

When you think about, what is the difference between fiction and nonfiction? Well, that's an easy question. One is real and the other is made up. Okay, but how do you differentiate between them while you're actually in the midst of a story? Ah, and herein lies the crux of what makes TJR's stories so special.

Told via interview transcripts, Daisy Jones & The Six chronicles the rise of the eponymous band that came to define rock 'n' roll in the late 1970s, as well as the troubles that subsequently led to the band splitting up seemingly overnight and never playing together again. The thing is though, this band and their entire story is fictional, but it sure doesn't feel like it.

The narrative is raw and evocative, filled with sweet, complicated characters I can't help but cheer for. There's complexity and nuance in the way TJR captures the relationships between the band members, each flawed in their own way with their individual personalities, quirks, and baggage.

Every character in here, every interaction, every thought and emotion, even the lyrics and the technical factors that go into making a band, all come together to heighten the sensation that what we're reading is real. The amount of details in here is staggering, and I applaud the author for having done so much meticulous research to build out her fictional world. The result is as authentic and gripping as the real deal.

I was captivated. I fell head first into this band and this world, and I had trouble resurfacing. There's this reader's high that you only get in the most immersive of reads—where the real world fades out and the one on the pages sharpens until it takes over your mind—and I got it here. I absolutely inhaled this whole thing, and I didn't stop, couldn't stop, until it was all done.

Going in, a lot has been made of the story's interview format; some love it, some hate it. I wasn't sure where I would fall. But of course I needn't have worried. I was hooked right from the start. It reads like an intimate first person account, allowing us to see right into the hearts and minds of every character. We lived every moment with them, feeling every emotion as if it were our own.

I will say, rock and roll is not my preferred music genre, so I was definitely a bit taken aback by how deeply invested I was in this story. I wasn't alive during the 1970s, and it would be multiple decades after that that I even began to notice American music. But that's TJR for you. She has this way of making me care deeply about things which I know nothing about and quite frankly have never given a farthing of thought to before.

Perhaps my only small quibble is that this felt almost too real. And just like real life, not everything was wrapped up in a neat bow, not everyone got the happily ever after that they deserved. In fact, no one got everything, just like real life and maybe that left me feeling a bit wistful and yearning, but for what, I don't really know.

I think to say to an author, I loved your story so much I wish it were real and I'm sad it's not and I don't want it to end, is about the highest compliment I can give. So I pay that highest compliment to TJR here. This story really showcases the range of her skills and abilities. She isn't just a writer of generic women's fiction. She can take any topic and build out a convincing, technically rich world around it, and make us see it as real. That's so impressive, and I cannot wait to see what she tackles next.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

DNF - I don't know, you guys. I see so much love for this book, but it's not grabbing me at all.

First off, the story is so weird. There's interesting weird, like I haven't seen this before but please tell me more cause I'm intrigued. And then there's just plain weird and vaguely repulsive, so please, don't tell me anymore. And this one definitely fell squarely in the latter.

The characters were all so unlikable, but none more so than Honor. So to tell the story from her perspective was especially grating. Then when the narration switched to what is effectively third-person omniscient, it became even more strange and awkward.

The writing didn't flow naturally. It felt like the author was constantly trying put little jabs into every scene she could, making fun of people, parents, consumerism, etc. But it didn't come across funny at all. Like, was I supposed to laugh or find insight in the jabs? It was so strange and jarring.

And that flippant and stilted tone was really at odds with what should've been an emotional tale. The topics and themes in here are ones that usually would've had me blubbering, yet I felt nothing at all. I don't care what happens to any of these characters, which is always a bad sign.

Every time I went to pick up this book, I dreaded it. I held on for a few days, but it's not getting any better. Supposedly there are all these surprises and secrets coming up, but if they're anything like the first chapter, I don't really care to find out. So that's that.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

I adore this series, and A Conspiracy in Belgravia is another fun one to add to the collection. But that adoration does come with some caveats.

First, the good stuff. I love strong female characters, and this series has it in spades. Charlotte Holmes is as clever and intrepid as ever, readily going about her day sussing out secrets left and right without ever missing a beat. It's so refreshing to follow a heroine who, when faced with adversity, is so confident in her abilities that she just uses her wits to get through any and all situations.

The repartee in here is delightful—Victorian, witty, a touch prudish—and I would often find myself lingering, rereading parts just to savor it some more. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention the sizzle between Charlotte and Lord Ingram. Their unrequited love was so sharp and visceral without ever being directly referenced that I had no choice but to swoon.

But I have to be honest. For a mystery series, the mysteries themselves are perhaps its one weakness. There are a few too many characters and subplots, a bit too much complexity in the way of the twists and turns, for this to really be easy to follow along with. And the denouement, in which everything is revealed, doesn't feel so much shocking as vaguely confusing, leaving me wondering where it all came from. Certainly I did not see the twists coming, but I'm not clear how Charlotte was able to either.

Another quibble I have is that not all the points of view were equally riveting. Charlotte, with the force of her personality, steals the show, so whenever we turn away from her to let Inspector Treadles or Livia have a turn, my attention waned. Thankfully, those sections were short, but they did slow the pace a bit for me overall.

But those really are small quibbles, and they don't unduly impact my enjoyment. The characters, their relationships with each other, the nonstop banter in the dialogue, all make this such a charming and interesting read. I hope the too-complex mysteries will get ironed out as the series matures or as we get more familiar with the characters and events at play.

Oh, one more thing to note if you're considering this. The question always comes up if one should read a series in order, and the answer here is a resounding yes! Even though each book has a self-contained mystery, there is so much backstory and character development and relationships throughout the series that to read it out of order would just be a big pile of confusion. And I do speak from personal experience, having done just that on my first go-around and lived to regret it until I finally completed my reread in the correct order.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

This is it, my moment of reckoning, and in some ways I long for it.

If characters make or break a story, then it's easy to see why Broken Country has stolen so many hearts.

I didn't really know what to expect going in. When a book is labeled as both a love story and a thriller, with promises of secrets and love triangles and death, it can easily go off the rails in the hands of the wrong author. It can slip into a soap opera, with drama for drama's sake and emotions for emotion's sake. But thank goodness that didn't happen here.

The writing was filled with so much nuance and skill, to fall into the world within was but a foregone conclusion. It took me a few chapters to really get settled, but once I did, I was fully immersed. Every scene felt vividly portrayed, every character sketched in sharp relief. It was as if I was really there, soaring with every joy and suffering through every pain.

I can't get over these characters. To say they were likable would perhaps be a step too far, but I did connect with each and every one of them. I could see bits and pieces of myself laid bare on the pages, in the precipice of the characters' decisions and in the overwhelming emotions that drove them there. They rang so true and touched me so deeply, I'm still reeling in the aftermath.

I have to take a moment to emphasis just how immersive this story was. Sometimes it feels like that's all I talk about, but that's because for me, it's just about the most important quality in a story. There's nothing worse than reading something that isn't grabbing me, while my mind checks out and tallies up chores I have to do and bills I have to pay. So when I come across a truly immersive story, I get pretty darn excited.

The narrative unfolds as a triple timeline. We spend the majority of time in the past and in the leadup to the shooting, and only a little bit of time on the trial. Looking back on it, I can see why the author chose to tell the story the way she did, and it was as effective as it was riveting.

A big deal always gets made about twists and turns whenever we're talking about a mystery, so I just want to set expectations correctly. I think if you're a mystery/thriller enthusiastic, you probably won't be that surprised here (and I wasn't). But on the other hand, if you don't read a lot of the genre, then perhaps there will be a few unexpected developments throughout. But no matter which way you land, it doesn't take away from the enjoyment of this story.

Phew, that's a lot of praise, and hopefully it hasn't scared you off, if you know what I mean. There is a certain category of books out there that seems to attract effusive compliments from readers and award-giving committees alike, but when you try to read it for yourself, they somehow come across as dull as dishwater. Or even worse, they're trauma porn out to batter your emotions simply for better ratings. But that's not this book. This book is as compulsive and unputdownable as they come, and I dare you not to read it in one go.

I think this book set out to achieve the unachievable—to be a love story and a mystery/thriller, a character driven study while being fast-paced, quiet and moving and yet still an utter delight to read—and it somehow managed to achieve them all. What a feat.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

I hate to say it, but this isn't sci-fi. It's more of a mystery/thriller and an overly sappy one at that. And I guess I just wasn't in the mood for such a thing.

The premise is certainly enticing. Four strangers travel to the past to revisit the day their lives changed forever. They were only supposed to be there for an hour, but soon find themselves trapped for days and days. And when their paths start to cross, they realize maybe they aren't the strangers they thought they were.

No complaints from me about the way this story kicked off. I found the initial chapters with the four different characters to be riveting, and I settled in, thinking I was well on my way to a unique and fascinating read. But then as the characters' lives began to intersect, I started to get the feeling that maybe this isn't the mind blowing speculative fiction I thought it was going to be.

The problem is that we start near the end of the timeline, so we already know most of what happens, if not the how. Then we jump three years into the past and slowly fill everything in. This structure makes it so that by about halfway through the book, all the pieces are in place and we have a pretty solid idea of how it will all play out. After that, there are no more surprises. From then on, the book proceeds to spell out in long form what is already obvious.

I don't have to have surprise after surprise in the books I'm reading, but to remove all elements of the unknown does mean a book would have to work extra hard to keep my attention. And unfortunately, this one didn't quite succeed.

It doesn't help that I can't seem to connect with these characters. No matter how difficult and complex their problems—and they had some gnarly ones for sure—every single one of them was resolved neatly and with much emotional fanfare. Every single character got their moment of enlightenment, and that one scene, one conversation was all it took for them to be happy and fulfilled.

Maybe I'm a cold hearted reader, but I just don't buy it. There is no way real people would behave like that. It's ludicrous to think that no matter what losses we suffer, be it our children or our limbs, that we would only need to hug it out before resuming our normal lives. And these pivotal scenes were often padded with so much saccharine mush to up the emotional ante that I had a lot of trouble keeping my focus.

What happened to finding out more about the time traveling tech or the glitch that stranded these travelers in the first place? It was such a disappointment to come to the end of this book and realize that those questions would never be answered. Clearly, the time traveling was just a way for the author to tell her story in a slightly different, nonlinear way and once that was done, the plot device could be tossed aside and forgotten.

Sometimes when a book isn't what I'm expecting, I can still adjust and end up enjoying it. But in this case, there just wasn't enough of what I wanted and too much of what I didn't want for that to happen.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

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

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