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: 4.5 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

Exquisite and mesmerizing, The Fox Wife kept me enchanted from the very first moment to the very last.

Told through the alternating perspectives of Bao, an aging investigator with a penchant for sniffing out the truth, and Snow, a mysterious lady on a quest to avenge the death of her child, this story sits at the irresistible intersection of historical fiction, mystery, and folklore.

Secrets and questions abound in here. Who are these characters? What do they want? And how do their paths cross through so many years and miles of tribulations? Add to that a main character who is not quite human, as well as the singular backdrop of the wintery world of Manchuria during the last years of the Qing dynasty, and the scene is set for a tale unlike any I've come across before.

I'm always drawn towards folklore, and the hallmark of a good one is the seamless blending of the real and the fantasy. You don't want to get mired in the weeds of the how's and why's of this slightly altered world, but you also don't want to just be dropped in the middle of what feels like an artificial construct. And this story achieves that balance flawlessly.

With so much of the story riding on its animal characters, there's the fear that it can come across contrived or, even worse, silly. But the foxes in here feel so real, as if these creatures really do live in our world, coexisting among us in disguise and leaving havoc but also wonder in their wake. In fact, the portions of the story told from Snow's perspective were the most evocative, and I found her to be vivid and compelling.

Snow's quest to avenge her dead child struck something in me. The quiet and reflective prose that Yangsze Choo so deftly wields adds this soft dignity to Snow's plight, and the end result is so emotionally resonant, I felt it deep within my heart. Her grief and anger were so raw and sharp, yet her continued strength in the face of such tragedy makes her the sort of strong female character I love and cheer for.

One of the most surprising and delightful additions in here were all the little nuggets of fox wisdom. Of course if the world were seen through the eyes of an animal, their life experiences and their way of thinking would be different from ours, resulting in unique insights. And these little morsels were dispensed at the most pertinent times, leaving me nodding and chuckling along at their undeniable wisdom and humor.

When I finish a book, there are two distinct feelings I can have. Either I'm happy to be done and excited to move on to something else, or I feel a sense of melancholy that I've reached the end of a magical journey and there's no more. And this book falls squarely in the latter. I could've easily gobbled up another 400 pages of this and it still wouldn't have been enough.

What an epic and memorable tale Yangsze Choo has crafted. The story itself often speaks of foxes beguiling humans into falling in love with them, yet I can't help but feel as if it were the story that has cast a spell on me, and I were the one who was beguiled all along.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

I think this happens to all of us readers. You buy a book you're super excited for, bring it home, put it on your shelf, and there it sits collecting dust for many years. You never seem to find the exact right moment to read it, especially when new and exciting releases keep dazzling you. I confess that's what happened here.

So what held me back from The Ten Thousand Doors of January for so long? Honestly, it was the effusive praise of this book. When it's described as "unbearably beautiful" and "a gorgeous, aching love letter to stories," it makes me shy away. I hear those words and think of flowery, descriptive prose and hardly anything interesting to keep me reading. Ouch.

But I'm so glad I finally took the plunge because I ended up not only finding this beautiful, but also riveting. The story itself has a dreamlike quality to it. It reads like a fairytale all grown up, steeped with magic and wonder. And the rich and beautiful prose perfectly complements it, giving a voice to that imaginative and fanciful journey.

The last two-thirds of the book was absolutely amazing. I couldn't tear through it fast enough. You would've had to pry me away with a crowbar, that's how riveting it was. It felt like I was pulled along on a grand adventure with many unexpected surprises, filled with wonderful characters I could love and cheer for.

But I have to be honest, I found the initial hundred pages to be boring as all heck. The story was slow to start, with hardly anything happening or so it seemed because I didn't know where it was going. Instead, it was mostly January talking about Doors with a capital D and Yule Ian pontificating on the mythology and practicality of entryways. I understand the author was trying to make the story seem real, so January's rambling and the pedantic tone of the inner story all contributed to that. But it sure made it a grueling slog.

In fact, I was so certain I was going to get rid of the book after finishing that I let my baby play with it, so the cover and pages are all bent. And I'd messaged one of my friends who'd read the book saying, "Omg does 10k doors get interesting? Is the story within story just as boring? I’m dying. What possessed me to buy this book?"

Obviously, I've never been so glad to be proven wrong. When I think of books with dull starts that I've pushed through, there's only ever been a handful that I ended up loving. It's so rare to be rewarded, and I'm glad this was the case here. In fact, I suspect this is one of those stories that gets even better on a reread, and I can't wait.

I guess what I'm saying with all this is that if you've held back from reading this book because you have the same fear as me, or you've started and found it dull, maybe give it a chance? Perhaps you would end up loving it like I did and finding the magic within. It certainly is worth the try when the end result could be so amazing.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

DNF - I tried, I really did. I've been slogging through this book for weeks. It dragged me into a slump the first time, so I took a break and came back hoping to feel refreshed. But no. I'm calling it quits before it drags me back again.

When did feminist literature become a cliché of men-hating tropes? Each male character in here is portrayed as either dumb or cheating or a rapist/killer. And every woman is frothing with rage to get even with the men who have hurt them, all the while menstruating torrents of blood (I kid you not) and taking care of their babies. There is a bitterness and hatred coming off the pages that makes the whole thing hard to stomach.

I always want nuanced portrayal in the books I read. Every person should be judged by who they are instead of the color of their skin or their gender. So it makes me really uncomfortable to see groups of people lumped together like this, as if the sin of one is a reflection of all.

My other problem with this book is that it's really long and slow. It seems more interested in thoroughly exploring the backstories of every character rather than forwarding the main narrative. So even though I'm 150 pages in (of an almost 500-page book), it feels like the story has just begun.

The blurb promises this to be "gloriously sharp and funny," but obviously it missed the mark for me. I haven't cracked a smile since picking this up, and there's nothing sharp about the writing or the characters. Every time I set the book down, I have no desire to pick it back up, which is a sure sign that I need to move on.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars (DNF)

This was a pick for my Book of the Month box. Get your first book for $5 here.

"You shouldn't be afraid of the truth. It'll set you free, right?"

Calling all fans of dark fairy tales. Have I got a book for you!

When Iris Hollow was seven years old, she and her sisters disappeared for a month, only to reappear with no memories of where they've been or what had happened to them. Now 10 years later, Iris just wants to leave it all behind and move on with her life. But when her oldest sister disappears again, it's as if history is repeating itself. And to save her, Iris must revisit her childhood and figure out what really happened all those years ago.

Right from the get-go, this story drew me in. I feel like so many books advertise as atmospheric, yet hardly any of them actually deliver. But this book elicited all the reactions. The hairs on my arms stood up. My spine was tingling like crazy. And I kept breaking out in goosebumps. I haven't had this much fun with a creepy read in a long time.

I should clarify—when I'm looking for a creepy read, I'm not aiming to have the bejeezus scared out of me. Nor am I hoping to be so freaked out that I won't sleep for a week and have to check every dark corner for fear of monsters. Rather, I want that perfect balance where a story is actually chilling, but it's also so much fun that I just want more. And this book hits it right on the nose.

I've been a bit biased lately against books labeled as magical realism. I think it's because I keep getting burned by the genre. The last few books I've read have been so flat and dull, almost as if the authors themselves don't even buy into the magical world they've created. But this book fully embraces the magic, and it totally works. I felt transported and I couldn't look away.

I loved the way the story unfolded, with lots of little clues and happenings, all building up to a spectacular set of twists and turns. I definitely did not see them coming, and it was great fun to partake in the journey and be thoroughly surprised.

I somehow missed this book when it first came out, but I'm so glad I found it now. I'm not sure what I expected going in, but it sure wasn't this. With its lush darkness and evocative imagery that was both beautiful and grotesque, this story feels like a fairy tale that's all grown up. 

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars