This book is, itself, magical for several reasons. First, it is a charming story based on a Latvian folktale. King Kraukis is feeling lonely. He’s got his children with him, Prince Koku, Prince Balt, and Princess Sofija, but he is still feeling lonely. You see, his castle seems to be too far away for anyone to visit, so he is lonely. But then Princess Sofija has the best of ideas; she tells her father about the Magical Wonderful Bul Bul Bird, and if they had this bird, people would come from far and wide to see its beauty. The eldest prince is determined to find the bird and bring it back, but when he doesn’t return, the second prince vows to find his brother and bring the bird back himself. But when the second brother doesn’t return, the “prudent” princess Sofija goes (something she had wanted to do all along, but was dismayed to find she is a girl). Does she find her brothers? Is the Bul Bul bird dangerous? Will the princess return to her father alive?
The second reason this book is magical, at least for me, is its absolutely charming vocabulary. In particular, it uses complex words that children will enjoy pronouncing and learning, such as “prudent, azure, sovereign, boombosity, pompous, imperious.” This delight in language is why I love it when children’s books include challenging yet fun vocabulary.
And the third is the illustrations. The artist Rob Bridges’ illustrations remind me of the old pictures you’d find in fairytale books, intricate, odd, fantastical and sometimes a little creepy!
This book is a special addition to any children’s library.
Thank you to Netgalley and 4U2B Books and MediaFor the copy
I absolutely love reading epistolary novels. They make me want to write letters again. Real letters. We live in such an “instant” time where, at the click of a button, we can communicate with no pondering, no pause to clarify our thoughts, no attempt to communicate not just effectively but beautifully.
Years ago, I was lucky enough to read letters my grandfather wrote to a young woman who would just happen to become my grandmother. They were simple but heartfelt, and I truly felt like I got to know a grandfather I had never met, a man who existed before he was ever a “grandfather” to me. I think we have become a people where, unless we feel we have something important or riveting to say, we say nothing at all. And yet what we should be doing, what people like my grandfather, did so naturally in the past, is simply share the simplicity of their everyday lives. Little things: the simple goings-on of the day, what you ate for dinner, what books you’re reading, or something as unassuming as the weather.
I lived in Glasgow for a portion of a year, many, many years ago, back when the only internet you could access was at the local internet café where I had pay by the hour. So I wrote letters the old fashioned way to everyone and anyone in my address book: old university friends, my little nieces who were too young to read, previous colleagues, just to tell them about my everyday life living in Scotland. And I received a plethora of mail in return, sometimes twice a day (the Royal Mail was absolutely magnificent). It is a practice I miss deeply.
All this to say: I absolutely loved The Correspondent.
Our main character is 73-year-old Sybil Van Antwerp, a retired law clerk for a celebrated judge. Sybil has always written letters, first to her best friend Rosalie, whom she met at summer camp as a young girl, and eventually to an ever-growing constellation of recipients: her brother Felix, living in France; her children; her neighbour Mr. Lubeck; various authors she admired, among them Joan Didion and Ann Patchett; a university dean; and others. Her mailing list expands across a lifetime, and we come to understand not only her ritual for letter-writing (she has specific days and times set aside, and spends about an hour crafting each letter, a discipline we learn about through her friendship with a young student who becomes enchanted by the practice) but her motivation as well.
Woven through the novel is something more tender and more sorrowful: through letters, we learn that Sybil is losing her eyesight, and we come to know the heartbreak and tragedy that has quietly shaped her life. And throughout all of her correspondence Sybil has been writing to someone she never names. In these letters, we meet a different Sybil entirely, unguarded, reflective, sharing her most personal feelings and regrets. These letters are written never to be sent.
The Correspondent is a beautifully crafted love letter to the art of letter-writing itself. It is also a novel about identity and grief, and the preciousness of relationships and the ways we choose, or fail, to communicate across a life. By the end, I desperately wanted to receive a letter from Sybil myself. It is a quick read, and an easy one to fall into and stay until finished.
Set in 1950s Florida, The Reformatory follows twelve-year-old Robbie Stephens, who is sent to the segregated Gracetown School for Boys after defending his sister Gloria from the unwanted advances of Lyle McCormick. But Robbie’s sentencing isn’t just punishment for that act. It’s a trap. His father, Robert Stephens, is a Black man falsely accused of raping a white woman who has fled to Chicago. A union organizer with enemies in powerful places, Robert is being lured back through the incarceration of his own son.
We soon learn that Robbie is spirit sensitive. He sees ghosts, or “haints,” and this gift is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he feels the presence of his mother, a comfort that helps him endure the atrocities he faces. A curse because he also sees the ghosts of boys who came before him, those who died violently at the hands of the evil, psychopathic Warden Haddock, by fire, by beating, by every manner of physical and emotional harm imaginable, all desperate to avoid being sent to the “Shed.”
Meanwhile, Gloria is fighting on the outside to secure the legal help her brother desperately needs. Alongside Ms. Lottie, the woman tasked with caring for Robbie and Gloria after the death of their mother and a Warrior Queen if there ever was one, she races to get Robbie released before it’s too late.
The Reformatory is classified as a literary, historical, and horror novel. And while you might assume the horror comes from its supernatural elements, make no mistake. The true horror here is entirely human. It is the vile and calculated evil of those who use their power to torture children and discriminate against people whose skin is a different colour than their own. The ghosts are almost beside the point.
Trigger warnings: physical and sexual abuse, blood and violence.
Rowen Sterling is the daughter of worm farmers. You would think worm farming would be a rather mundane, banal job but unfortunately Rowen has had her share of trauma, not only did her mother die a violent death at the hands of another, her father has become distant and, she’s in her senior year of high school and has some important life decisions to make, like what college to attend, and if she is falling in love her her best friend Lucas. And just to compound these stresses, Rowen has been having disturbing dreams of murder and death. One night, Rowen is kidnapped and taken to a facility called Rosewood. Her father is behind her kidnapping and claims it’s for her own good. You see, Rowen is blessed/cursed with a gift; she can predict who will die and who will commit murders just by touching them. The trainers at Rosewood tell her that those with a red aura will commit a crime of passion, and those with a black aura are psychopaths. And that she and the other young people at Rosewood will be trained and tasked with going out into society to determine who is indeed an imminent criminal. Rowen is all for her involvement; her mother, after all, was murdered, and she would like to prevent the same trauma from happening to others. However, it’s not that simple. A load of ethical questions come into play, like how moral is it to imprison someone who hasn’t committed a crime yet? And, what if you sense an aura around someone you love?
I really enjoyed this graphic novel. Its premise was interesting, albeit a bit confusing at times (parts of the characters’ backstories seem ill-placed). The artwork is wonderful, coloured in white, black, and various shades of grey, with additions of red and pink. Colours and artistry that suit the subject matter very effectively.
The story is bloody and violent and definitely aimed at 15-18 year olds.
If you’ve never heard of Mona Awad, I need you to stop what you’re doing and pay attention, because I’m about to send you down a rabbit hole you will not regret.
I’ve only read three of Mona Awad’s works, and all three can be classified as dark academia my favourite genre. Canadian author Mona Awad has quite theimagination. She writes novels that read like fevered dreams, especially for those of us who have a history of viewing ourselves as insecure, anxious, and at times with self-doubt.
My first experience with Awad was her novel All’s Well. Honestly, I bought,this novel, because I thought the cover was beautiful, and because it was a reference to Shakespeare’s play. Miranda Fitch is a college drama teacher who is bound and determined to produce Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well, mostly because she wants to relive a time in her life when she was at the height of her acting career, playing the lead role of Helen. Her students, however, are equally bound and determined to perform Macbeth — a play that Miranda holds directly responsible for her debilitating chronic pain. When she meets three strange men at a bar (men who symbolize the three witches of Macbeth) Miranda engages in the most bizarre conversations. Soon after, the physical and emotional pain she carries begins to transfer onto the people she dislikes, and Miranda starts to feel a dark, intoxicating sense of power at the expense of others.
Now, Bunny. Bunny is the most wild of novels. Samantha McKey is part of a creative writing cohort at an Ivy League university. The entire story is told from her point of view, but we glean through her narrative (and she is an extremely unreliable narrator) that she is a loner. She views herself as superior to the others in her cohort, referring to them as “the Bunnies.” Soon, however, she is invited to join the Bunnies’ “Smut Salon” — a gathering where they meet to discuss their work. But the Smut Salon goes far beyond discussion. Soon the Bunnies are kidnapping, killing, and conducting all sorts of experiments to create. There are hints woven throughout that Samantha may be mentally ill, and that the world of the Bunnies and the Smut Salon is entirely a creation of her own mind.
The sequel to “Bunny:” “We Love You, Bunny,” made me rethink every interpretation of “Bunny” I ever had. It’s written from the various points of view of the Bunnies themselves …they finally get to tell their side of the story. It seems Samantha, our protagonist and narrator from “Bunny” has written a bestselling novel about, of all things, the Bunnies themselves. And they are not happy. Why? because they are not exactly written in the most flattering light. They kidnap Samantha and tie her up in the same attic where they once held their Smut Salon and conducted their gruesome creative experiments. In fact, the axe is still there — and it’s often picked up like a talking stick by the various narrators.
Where Bunny felt to me like a story about identity, creativity, and what one will sacrifice in order to create both an identity and a piece of art, We Love You, Bunny is more about on the creative process itself. It presents such questions as who owns a piece of art, what constitutes plagiarism, and what makes a creative work credible. Both novels, I believe, require a second reading and a long conversation in order to peel back all the layers
:Mona Awad is not for everyone but if you are someone who loves stories that blur the line between reality and imagination, that make you question everything you think you know about a character, and that stay with you long after you’ve closed the book she just might be exactly for you. I would love to know if any of you have read her work, and what you thought. As always, happy reading.
Full disclosure, Catriona Ward’s writing is a favourite of mine; she could rewrite the ingredients of a cereal box, and I’d love it. So I was fully expecting to love this new novel of hers, and I did. Although it isn’t my favourite novel of hers, it was still a good, creepy, suspenseful, mystery, thriller, and horror novel.
The novel unfolds through multiple perspectives and timelines, with the estate of Nowhere serving as the central, unifying “character” of sorts.
Leif Winham, a renowned actor, retreats from a life of glamour to his secluded estate, Nowhere. He leads an isolated and enigmatic existence, prompting neighbors to view him as an eccentric recluse while remaining intrigued by both his lifestyle and the estate itself.
Tom, a documentarian, is driven to investigate Nowhere and the mythology that surrounds both the estate and its founder.
Riley, a young girl, experiences significant trauma after being orphaned and placed in the care of a cruel, abusive guardian referred to as ‘cousin.’ Both Riley and her younger brother suffer under this individual, ultimately compelling Riley to make the difficult decision to escape with her brother. The only refuge she can imagine is Nowhere, a place described to her by a girl named Noon, who visits her at night. Noon explains that Nowhere is a place ‘in the mountains under the stars where everyone gets love and respect,’ and provides Riley with written directions to this sanctuary for children like her can find a home.
I found each of these three perspectives equally enthralling, and when Ward expertly weaves the storyline together, the novel becomes an impressive, intricate piece of storytelling.
I really enjoyed this novel, as I knew I would. It is deeply suspenseful, and I found the characters well-developed and interesting. I wanted to know their motivations, their backstories, and eventually how their lives unfold.
Thank you to Netgalley and Tor Publishing for the book
Elodie leaves her life as a single mother in Australia to join Bren in the United States. Bren appears to be the ideal husband: he is handsome, a reliable provider, and willing to help raise her autistic son, Jude. Elodie is also pregnant, which makes her feel she finally has the foundation to start anew with her family. However, she remains uncertain about the old family home where Bren has relocated them. The house is in a constant state of renovation, and Jude dislikes it, claiming he can hear the walls talking. As Jude’s behavior deteriorates, Elodie fears her seemingly perfect life may unravel, particularly if Bren discovers her secret—a secret that could jeopardize her happiness or even her safety. Yet, Bren harbors secrets as well. The central question becomes: whose secrets pose the greater threat?
Just a heads up—the ending is completely wild and unpredictable.
Well, this was a creepy book. I found some parts predictable, and I was more than frustrated with some of the choices Elodie makes, but CG Drews seems to masterfully write a psychological thriller that will make me read more of her works.
I also listened to this novel, and truth be told, I found the audio version even creepier. In fact, Saskia Maaleveld’s voice absolutely sent shivers down my spine. I had to listen to it in the bright sunlight of a walk and not in the dark of my bedroom at night. which is a testament to how well Saskia Maarleveld conveys character and atmosphere.
If you like psychological horror, then this is the book for you.
Thank you to Netgalley and St. Martin’s Press for the copy.
I both listened to and read this novel.
Lady Tremaine is more than just a twist on the Cinderella story. It’s a feminist retelling of a tale many of us grew up with, where a beautiful girl loses her parents and is mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters. In this version, Hochhauser focuses on Lady Tremaine, whose full name is Ethedreda Verity Isolde Tremaine Bramlay. The story opens with Lady Tremaine hunting with her peregrine falcon. After her second husband’s death, she tries to keep up the appearance of wealth so her two daughters and stepdaughter have a chance to marry well and secure their futures in a society that limits women’s options. Ethel, as she’s called in the novel, understands the risks her daughters face as unmarried women. The book then goes back to her youth, when she met her first love, Henry, who introduced her to falconry and became her closest friend. As the daughter of a successful brewer, Ethel’s family has some standing, but they aren’t considered true equals by the upper class. Henry isn’t the eldest son in his family, so their marriage doesn’t cause much attention.
When Henry dies suddenly, Ethel’s father-in-law tries to marry off her two young daughters, who are only seven and eight, to avoid paying for their care. To protect them from becoming child brides, Ethel looks for a second husband and meets Lord Bramley, who is Elin’s (Cinderella’s) father. Like in the original fairytale, this marriage is short-lived, and Ethel is left widowed and without money. She stays at the estate but struggles to maintain it. With her daughters and two loyal servants, Ethel works hard to keep things going, while Elin stays in her room, preparing for marriage and living a sheltered life.
As per the fairytale, the court soon holds a ball so that the prince can meet a young marriageable woman. The ball presents the perfect opportunity for Ethel to prepare her daughters for a union that will secure all of their futures…however, the prince and his family aren’t all they appear to be. Will Ethel find a way to secure her daughters’ safety and future, or will she inadvertently expose them to the exploitation that exists within families of political power and wealth?
I really enjoyed this novel. A fairytale, voiced by a middle-aged woman, telling of her experiences, the wisdom gleaned from them, and the ferocity with which she makes the decisions she does to provide a better life for her daughters. She is a courageous character who becomes heroic rather than villainous.
I loved reading and listening to this novel. Written in first-person point of view, the narrator, Bessie Carter, is wonderful at embodying Ethel’s character and at varying the voices of secondary characters.
I would definitely introduce this novel into my High School Classroom as an independent choice for a novel study or small group study.
You can buy Lady Tremaine the beginning of March.
Thank you to Negalley and St. Martin’s Press and Macmillan Audio for the copies.
Hey, so apparently in 1918, men who were drafted into the army were succumbing to venereal diseases, and it was all the fault of women ( insert look of incredible annoyance here). In fact here is the quote “What the Secretary of War and the Secretary of the navy are hereby authorized and directed to adopt measures for the purpose of assisting the various States in caring for civilian persons whose detention, isolation, quarantine or commitment to institutions may be found necessary for the protection of the military and naval forced of the United States agains veneral Disease” from the Chamberlain – Khan Act of 1918.
Here’s another quote from Trials of Nina McCall: Sex, Surveillance and the Decades-Long Government Plan to Imprison ‘Promiscuous’ Women by Scott Stern: “It is the philosophy they helped to cement: that women and promiscuous people are dangerous and morally inferior and that they need to be stopped, locked up, and reformed.” Seriously. This information is provided by the author at the beginning of the novel…just to get your anger primed.
This novel discusses this time in American history, and I was outraged every second I was reading it.
Our main characters are 24-year-old Ruth, who was forcefully detained by the sheriff and endured a humiliating internal exam by a doctor who proclaimed that she had a venereal disease…all for walking alone to work at the cafe one morning. But hey, she was pretty and alone, so that made her promiscuous and a threat to mean right?
Then there’s Stella, just 15, pregnant by her own father, and her parents are the ones who turn her in. She gets sterilized and locked away, because apparently, she’s a threat too.
And don’t get me started on the other women who were forcefully detained for owning their own business, being mentally ill, or hey, you’re just too darned pretty to be single, so you pose a threat.
All of these women are institutionalized at the State Industrial Farm Colony for Women run by a woman by the name of Dorthoy Baker…a woman with a far more interesting past than the women she houses. Baker runs her institution using questionable measures. Her charges are punished for not enthusiastically embracing their rehabilitation .
To say I enjoyed reading this novel would not be suitable; I was, however, incredibly drawn in by its subject matter, themes and writing. Women of a Promiscuous Nature would make an engaging addition to book clubs. I would also recommend it as an independent study for high school classes; its writing style is accessible, as is its subject matter.
Thank you to Kensington Press and Netgalley for the copy.
Grace is my first encounter with author A M Shine. Rooted in traditional Irish folklore, this Irish Gothic Horror novel is set on a remote island off the coast of Ireland. The novel opens with a prologue in which Declan desperately tries to save his wife, Chrissy, and his daughter, Grace, from an unseen terror pursuing them. We then quickly move forward to Grace on a tour boat, braving rough seas to reach an island the captain is clearly reluctant to visit—not only because it is perpetually cloaked in dense, ominous fog, but also because he refers to it as “LaVelle’s Island.” Just a few days before, Grace had been working in her antiquarian bookstore, sharing wine with her friend Carrie, when she received a call from a priest in Croaghnakeela informing her of her biological mother’s death. Grace always knew she was adopted, but she knew nothing about her origins. Driven by curiosity and a need for closure, she returns to her birthplace.
When she arrives, her life will be forever changed. You see, the island has been plagued by an unnatural evil, a force that is responsible for the disappearance of children, but has lain dormant for years, that is, until the death of Grace’s mother, Chrissy.
The chapters focus on individual characters, gradually revealing the islanders’ histories and their encounters with evil. As the story unfolds, readers piece together the mysteries of Valentine Lavalle, the young priest’s role, Grace’s significance, and the fog’s prevalence.
The novel is grisly, unsettling, and rich in Irish mythology. I thoroughly enjoyed it; the plot twist at the end was truly wicked, especially after everything we readers have endured.
To be honest, I would have really liked Grace to have a bigger role in the novel. The fact that she owned a rare and old bookstore made me believe she would use the tomes at hand to try to solve the island’s mystery. Instead, we get Father O’Malley as the main character, who pieces together the bits of information he gets from the island’s inhabitants. Also, I prefer a simmer before a full boil when it comes to horror and mystery novels. Grace is a novel that throws you right into the violent horror that is responsible for all the death and destruction. The novel then mostly concentrates on its origin, which is fine.
Grace will be out in February.
A solid three stars. I look forward to reading more from A M Shine.
Thank you to Netgalley and Head of Zeus Bloomsbury for the copy.
The Safekeep is a novel that explores themes of pain, loss, isolation, identity, and love. Set in the aftermath of World War II, the protagonist, Isabel, leads a life marked by routine and emotional detachment. Although she maintains a relationship with her two brothers—Hendrick, to whom she is close, and Louis, whom she finds irritating—her social circle is limited. Isabel continues to live in her childhood home following her mother’s death, with few connections beyond her aunt, uncle Karel, and Johan, a persistent suitor whom she entertains out of obligation. Her days are consumed by managing the household, particularly through meticulous inventory of its possessions. She fixates on counting the spoons daily to ensure nothing is missing. The house serves as her sanctuary and sole companion, yet it ultimately belongs to her eldest brother, Louis.
Isabel seems cold and rigid. When Louis brings his mistress, Rose, to live at the house for a month while he is away, Isabel is incensed, recoiling from any attempt at friendship from Rose, and especially affronted when Louis says Rose can sleep in their dead mother’s room.
Isabel’s life can be divided into two parts: before Rose and after. Rose becomes the catalyst for various revelations about Isabel’s history, relationships, and sexuality. The novel’s first third focuses on Isabel’s character and her daily routines, illustrating her lonely existence and posing the question of whether it is by choice. The second third explores Rose through her journal entries, as read by Isabel, while the last third examines the consequences of decisions made and the insights gained about oneself and others.
The novel is skillfully crafted. Its sensual scenes are neither gratuitous nor exploitative, and the unfolding love story is both poignant and ultimately hopeful.
“ He is wealthy and popular…he will not be punished. Meanwhile, the girls here are prey.” (I Medusa).
I Medusa turned out to be an unexpected surprise. The novel unfolds over a year. Medusa, or Meddy, is 17 and preparing with her sisters for a spring feast. Unlike her sisters—Euryale and Stheno, both goddesses—Meddy is mortal. Her parents, gods of the Sea Court but not Olympians, still resent their lesser status. Meddy feels powerless compared to her family but possesses intellect, courage, and a strong sense of justice. She is sensitive to injustices in the court, including discrimination and mistreatment of women and children. These qualities attract Athena, who invites Medusa to be her acolyte in Athens, where, as myth suggests, chaos soon follows.
Ayana Grey does an incredible job in humanising Medusa as a 17-year-old girl. From her infatuation with Posidon and her inability to recognise the fact that he is grooming her for his own sexual conquest (she is constantly making excuses for his behaviour, attempting to convince herself that he sees her as special and that his love for her is different from the “love” he has for his wife, Amphitrite, or his mistresses). In fact, we, the readers, can’t help but yell at her in her naivety… However, her way of thinking seems very age-appropriate.
Medusa is characterized as a young woman we can’t help but love, even though her choices frustrate us. Gray reminds us of her age and that her choices stem from her parents’ poor upbringing—for example, she has no idea what sex is and is confused by her body’s response to seeing Poseidon with a sea nymph during her spring feast. She is often ruled by her heart rather than her mind. Her pursuit of justice turns violent, first with her fists, then with the power her curse gives her.
*spoiler warning*
I was so brokenhearted at the end, even though it was no surprise. Meddy goes to sleep with hope and optimism in her heart. Dreaming of her future where she can use her curse in a way to benefit others, just to meet her demise before the sun rises. We get to know Meddy intimately; she is characterised as an empathetic, sweet young woman, even after she is cursed. She is a victim of those in power, not a monstrous villain as most myths portray her.
Ayana Grey uses her narrative to discuss the nature of rape culture and the issue of men in power getting away with exploiting young women … two issues that we are facing today. It would make an amazing book club pick or novel for study, as it offers a plethora of points of discussion.
Thank you to Random House and Netgalley for the copy
Wild Reverence is a slow-burning Romantacy story. For most of the book, we are schooled in a world of Gods, Goddesses, and Mortals. We have the Immortals of the Under Realm and the Immortals of the Skyward Realm, and poor Matilda’s parentage includes both… which leaves a young girl struggling with a sense of identity and belonging. When tragedy occurs in her Under Realm home, she is forced to leave and find solace in Skyward, but will she be accepted?
In the meantime, Matilda has met the boy of her dreams, Vincent, the only problem is she can only meet him in his dreams, oh, and he’s a mortal. For a chunk of this novel, Matilda’s and Vincent’s story is secondary; they “grow up,” each finding their place in the world (or, in Matilda’s case, her worlds), and each coming face to face with their newfound powers and the discovery of their weaknesses. Each faces betrayals and moments of weakness, but in these moments, each learns who they truly are and what potential they have to save the ones they love, unless, of course, it is contrary to what the fates allow.
So I’m not a huge fan of Romantacy, and I’ve never read anything by Rebecca Ross. I picked up Divine Rivals once and carried it around the bookstore, but didn’t end up buying it, and I am beginning to rue that day. Not that you need to read the Divine Rival books to fully enjoy Wild Reverence. I really admire Ross’s writing. It is really quite beautiful. Her prose is vivid, and the plot unravels like a movie in my imagination.
A perfect Christmas read AND a perfect gift for those in your life who are fans of Romantacy.
Thank you to St Martin’s Press and Netgalley for the copy.
Ink And Spine 