book review

Exploring Magical Realism in _Spells for Forgetting_

Spells for Forgetting by Adrienne Young
Genre: literary fiction/ magical realism
I read it as a(n): hb
Length: 350 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars

The residents of Saoirse Island, WA, are a different group of people. They are insular, some of them to the point of xenophobia, yet they are almost entirely dependent on the tourists who come to the island to pick apples from its gigantic orchard. Every person on the island is tied in one way or another to the orchard. So when the orchard burned nearly to the ground and a teen died, folks did what they felt was necessary – ostracized the boy who seemed responsible, forcing him and his mother out of the community, and then never spoke of it again. That is, until that boy, now a man, returns to the island to bury the ashes of his mother. August Salt’s return to the island stirs up memories and secrets most want to leave buried except for Emery Blackwood, the girl August left behind.

Saoirse is an island that wraps itself around the lives of its people, dictating their fates in ways that feel inescapable. It is ironic since Saoirse means freedom in Irish, but it’s anything but free for some of the islanders who are bound by the weight of history, tradition, and unsolved mysteries. For those who live there, leaving is never really an option. Even when they manage to get away, as one of the characters does, they are always drawn back, like a magnet pulling them to confront what has been left unresolved. It is not really an ominous sense, though, as the island protects many who need it, and wreaks havoc on others who deserve it. Also? I love it when there is an inanimate object that is a fully fledged character in its own right. Saoirse Island is certainly that.

In magical realism, the blending of the ordinary with the extraordinary is seamless, and Spells for Forgetting exemplifies that perfectly. Saoirse is full of magic, but it’s a kind of magic that feels like part of the natural world. It just exists, like the air or the tides, and nobody questions its existence. The magic is tied to the land itself, the orchard in particular. The island breathes life into this magic, and just as it holds the people in its grip, it also holds their power. This is why the women, especially the older women, are so central to the story. Their knowledge of magic isn’t learned in books or schools—it’s passed down through the generations, grandmother to granddaughter, like a family secret. 

In folklore, older women tend to hold a special place when they aren’t relegated to the role of witch or wicked stepmother. They are the keepers of tradition, the wise ones who hold knowledge that others don’t understand or respect until it’s too late. But Spells for Forgetting subverts this role in an interesting way. Yes, the grandmothers are the teachers, the ones who understand the magic and the island, but they are also trapped by it. The island’s magic is as much a burden as it is a gift. It binds them to Saoirse just as much as it empowers them, and in this way, they are not the all-knowing, all-powerful figures of traditional folklore. Instead, they are characters shaped by the same constraints and fears as everyone else, forced to carry the weight of the island’s secrets and never able to escape its influence. 

The role of women in the story, particularly in the context of magical realism, highlights the balance between empowerment and imprisonment. Their connection to the island, through magic, bloodlines, and tradition, gives them strength but also makes them part of Saoirse’s pull. While folklore often celebrates the wisdom of old women, Spells for Forgetting shows the price of that wisdom—knowledge of the island’s magic comes with a cost, and freedom, in the true sense of the word, is not part of the bargain. 

In this way, the island itself becomes the ultimate character, shaping and controlling the lives of everyone who resides there. Its magic is subtle, but Saoirse is a constant reminder that what should be freedom is, in reality, a kind of beautiful, inescapable prison. The natural elements—earth, water, wind, and fire—aren’t just parts of the scenery but active forces that tie the people to the island, just as much as the magic and the folklore do.

book review

Nineteen Minutes

Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
Genre: general fiction
I read it as a(n): paperback
Length: 642 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 3.5 stars

A typical day at Stirling High in New Hampshire took a horrific turn when a shooter unleashed devastation in just 19 minutes, forever changing the lives of everyone in the town.

This was a tough book for me to read. As a parent of a high schooler, it touched on a fear that feels all too real. The thought of sending my daughter to a place where she should be safe, only to have her not come home, is something that gives me daily anxiety. 

The story follows the aftermath of the shooting, as various characters grapple with the trauma. Some have lost children or close friends, while others are survivors trying to rebuild their lives amidst grief and survivor’s guilt. Secrets ripple through the small town as characters struggle with what they know, and in some cases, what they refuse to admit.

Peter, the shooter, fits the mold of the classic outsider—bullied from an early age and deeply sensitive. But he’s more than just a stereotype; he’s experienced losses of his own, too. Josie, on the other hand, is one of the popular girls, driven by a fear of social rejection and trapped by the high school hierarchy. The pressure to conform is constantly present. I do not fucking miss high school one bit.

Patrick, the detective who is one of the first responders at the scene, is a man haunted by his own past and determined to seek justice for the victims. Yet in a town where almost everyone is hiding something, justice is hard to come by. Alex, the trial judge, faces her own internal conflict. Having known Peter as her daughter Josie’s childhood friend, her struggle to remain impartial while also putting her daughter’s needs first adds another layer of tension.

Picoult skillfully intertwines these characters’ stories, revealing bits and pieces that form a complex web of connections. As their secrets come to light, it’s clear that not everyone is who they seem. The shifting perspectives and timelines create a rich narrative structure, which adds depth to the mystery—even though we know early on who the shooter is.

This book forces readers to confront difficult questions about guilt, blame, and what it means to be the “bad guy.” It challenges the idea of who the true villains are, and the answers aren’t always straightforward.

That said, a few things left me unsatisfied. There were some loose ends that felt less like intentional ambiguity and more like unfinished threads in the story. While I appreciate a certain level of open-endedness, it can be frustrating when key details don’t feel fully resolved.

The major takeaway from this novel, though, is simple:

WE DON’T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS!

Also, just from me, a hearty FUCK YOU to Republicans. If it weren’t for them and their weird ammosexual tendencies, valuing their guns more than people, we wouldn’t have to worry about things like this.

book review · interview

Reflections of Identity & History: Discussing Hall of Mirrors with John Copenhaver

Originally published in Historical Novels Review | Issue 109 (August 2024)

The 1950s were a complex time, filled with political intrigue and deep social and moral imbalances. This is the tumultuous backdrop for John Copenhaver’s latest novel, Hall of Mirrors (Pegasus Crime, 2024), a thoughtful reflection of identity, politics, and the human experience.

Copenhaver set Hall of Mirrors in the McCarthy era, following the timeline established in his previous post-WWII novel, The Savage Kind (Pegasus Crime, 2021), featuring the same main characters, Judy and Philippa. Copenhaver explains that he had more to tell about their story and wanted to follow them in their growth from teenagers to young women. He says that the McCarthy era was “a particularly difficult time to be an independent-minded woman, especially if you’re queer and, in Judy’s case, mixed race.”

Researching and writing about this period uncovered some unique challenges, particularly those facing the LGBTQ+ and Black communities. Copenhaver immersed himself in the socio-political climate of the 1950s, uncovering the intricate ways in which government policies shaped societal attitudes. The McCarthy era is indelibly marked by government-sanctioned discrimination against Black and queer individuals, which bled over into society as a whole. Copenhaver notes, “The McCarthy era, from overt political figures grasping for power like McCarthy to the FBI under J. Edgar Hoover, led to the perpetuation of discriminatory ideologies that still linger.” It is in the space left by these attitudes that Copenhaver is able to explore their continuing impact on modern society. He says, “These attitudes still echo today, making it a rich and relevant setting for my story.”

Copenhaver deftly manages the delicate task of balancing historical accuracy with creative storytelling. His story incorporates many of the dark facets of the McCarthy era and how various government agencies acted while simultaneously revolving around a domestic setting through the private lives of Judy and Philippa, as well as those of Roger and Lionel, the novel’s murder victim and suspect. He explains that this balance was crucial to create an authentic and engaging narrative. The domestic side of the novel really is where the narrative shines, allowing readers a glimpse into the minds of the characters.

The book’s title itself gives readers a deeper perspective and acts as a portal into the themes within, with the concept of reflection and doubling at the forefront. The society that Judy and Philippa navigate is fraught with double standards and questions of identity. Copenhaver elaborates, “I’ve always been interested in mirroring and doubles, a consistent theme in film noir. In this novel, I explore several doubles: Judy and Philippa, Roger and Lionel. Opposites attract, and love aligns, yet mirrors also suggest vanity and the question of identity.”

Identity is further explored in the representation of LGBTQ+ characters, which are a cornerstone of Copenhaver’s writing. Thanks to Copenhaver and other contemporary writers, these characters are being written back into historical fiction. He says that LGBTQ+ representation in his work is an intentional correction of invisibility and, “It’s about enjoying a twisty mystery while considering historical representation.”

The theme of “passing” is also central the narrative. Judy has spent her life passing as a white woman, though in reality she is biracial. Passing has been a complex issue for decades, having its origins in the colonial and antebellum South eras. Initially, the practice of racial passing was used as a means of escaping slavery, but it continued in the post-Reconstruction era as a strategy to avoid systemic racism. Passing carried on into the 1950s, both in terms of racial passing as well as passing as straight for members of the queer community, again as an attempt to escape from the racism and homophobia of the time. Copenhaver notes that passing also “raises questions of identity and agency, highlighting the moral imbalances of societal norms.”

Moral imbalances are further explored through the lens of the political landscape of the 1950s. This time period was marked by the Red Scare and Jim Crow laws which also targeted LGBTQ+ individuals. The merest hint of accusation could be enough to destroy an entire life. Copenhaver reflects, “The Lavender Scare, a subset of the Red Scare, led to the persecution of gays and lesbians in government roles, driven by fearmongering and power dynamics.”  Roger’s firing from his job at the State Department and Lionel hiding his true relationship with Roger from the police during their investigations are reflections of the Lavender Scare and systemic racism in action.

While acknowledging social progress since then, Copenhaver questions the true extent of change. Through the characters’ experiences, he urges readers to critically analyze fear-driven narratives, emphasizing the importance of understanding historical contexts to foster meaningful change.

When dealing with heavy themes, a reflection on grief and loss is only natural. Copenhaver’s personal experiences with grief shape his writing. He candidly discusses the impact of his father’s early death, stating that this formative experience forced him to reflect on loss, mortality, and why bad things happen. He describes his writing as “inherently dark yet affirming, reflecting the complexities of life.”

Copenhaver further notes, “Exploring grief allows for a deeper understanding of human experiences, showcasing the resilience and affirmation that coexist with sorrow.” Philippa, Judy, and Lionel embody various aspects of grief and resilience as they experience the loss of loved ones, of their security, livelihood, and identity. They also are the embodiment of perseverance, carrying on despite hardship and persecution. As Copenhaver’s vibrant, complex characters demonstrate, it is during difficult times that people’s true selves emerges.

Hall of Mirrors emerges as a nuanced exploration of identity, politics, and human resilience within the McCarthy-era, as well as holding up a mirror to our modern lives and challenging us to do better. Copenhaver’s captivating narrative encourages readers to reflect on historical legacies, LGBTQ+ representation, and the enduring quest for identity and belonging.

book review · fantasy · historical fiction

Unraveling the Intrigue in ‘Flights of Treason’ by Judith Starkston

Flights of Treason (Tesha #4) by Judith Starkston
Genre: historical fantasy
I read it as a(n): digital ARC
Length: 522 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 5 stars

Flights of Treason, the 4th and final book in Judith Starkston’s Tesha historical fantasy series, takes place about 3 years after the end of book 3, Of Kings and Griffins. Queen Tesha of Alpara and her husband, King Hattu, are facing off against Hattu’s corrupt and incompetent nephew, Great King Urhi. Adding to this already tense political situation is the fact that Traj, one of the griffin cubs from the previous book, has been lured to Hattusa where he was bound with evil magic and nearly killed. The griffin king is enraged by the harm to his son and vows to kill the sorceror who hurt Traj. Unfortunately, that sorceror appears to be Tesha and Hattu’s 4-year-old daughter, Arinnel. Magic, demons, griffins, and more converge into this exciting final novel in the Tesha series!

I loved this book so much! In the spirit of full transparency, Judith is a friend of mine. However, that doesn’t change the fact that this was an awesome read. The characters all have a great deal of growth throughout this book as well as the series overall. Tesha has tremendous guilt about her magic, which is powerful, but she refuses to use it to its full potential because of the inadvertent damage it did to Arinnel in the womb. (For that story, you’ll need to read book 2, Sorcery in Alpara.) Tesha tries to do what she can to help without using magic, and she has to work through her feelings of guilt and fear to become the queen she needs to be. Her reluctance to use her magic causes some tension with Hattu, particularly when it comes to using it to force his nephew, Urhi, to become a better king. I liked this because it felt like an actual issue that causes couples to get mad at each other in real life. It wasn’t Big Drama, it wasn’t hugely emotional or a cause to worry that Tesha and Hattu were going to call it quits. It was just one of those things that happens to any couple on occasion, and it made the novel feel that much more relatable. 

Tesha’s older, blind sister, Daniti, has a big role as well. Her previous bond with the griffins and her ability to speak telepathically to them over great distances plays a vital role in the conflict between humans and griffins. Arinnel shares her aunt’s telepathic abilities, a source of tremendous joy to both of them most of the time. Arinnel, though, has blocked Daniti out of her thoughts and, because of this, everyone fears that that little girl was, in fact, responsible for the grievous injuries the griffin cub Traj suffered. 

Marak, Hattu’s second in command and Daniti’s husband, has a slightly smaller role in this than he did in previous books, but his role remains important. He is almost as brilliant a military strategist as Hattu himself, and Marak’s diplomatic bonds with the Paskans comes into play in a very big way. I have a soft spot for Marak. He always strikes me as sort of a protective big brother who seems fierce but is all squishy around the edges. 

Flights of Treason is filled with exciting battles ranging from fighting with human armies, facing off against sorcerors, or making a stand against fantastical beasts. These scenes are all vividly depicted and they played out like a movie in my mind. 

Starkston absolutely excels at the historical details in this book, as she does in all her other books as well. The series might be marketed as historical fantasy, but it is solidly based in actual Hittite history. Many of the spells and incantations are actual documented parts of ceremonies and rituals found on clay tablets from the Hittite Empire. Her skill lies in taking those snippets of historical fact and weaving them into a fascinating new story that is both unique and also remains true to the remarkable, ancient people who provided the inspiration. 

I have said for years and years that sci-fi/fantasy is an ideal medium in which to discuss real-world issues. Flights of Treason is no different. I love the themes of fighting for one’s home, doing what needs doing even if it scares the crap out of you, and going through self-discovery to become who you are really supposed to be. These are all things that people in the real world need to do at one point or another. Maybe we don’t battle actual griffins in our life, but we sure as hell battle our own inner demons. We do things that scare us because we need to do them. We learn to define what “home” means to each of us, and then fight to keep it safe. There are so many things we do in real life that are explored in fantasy novels, barely hidden beneath the veneer of magic. In a well-written fantasy such as this, it is easy to find ourselves in the pages even as we get lost in the story.

One more thing that I really loved about this book was actually the ending. Starkston did what I wish more authors of series could do: she gave a satisfying ending with no loose threads left, didn’t make those endings feel like an afterthought by rushing through them, and yet still left openings to return to the series later if she decides to. I honestly am not sure of any other authors that I have personally read who managed to pull that off so well! Because I am a selfish creature, I want MORE Tesha books, but if such is not meant to be, then the way this one ended is the ideal way to conclude the series. 

As with the three preceding books in the series, I highly recommend Flights of Treason for the amazing world-building, complex characters, and fascinating historical details woven into every page. You will not be sorry you read this!

fantasy · sci-fi

Thorn Hedge, Hell Followed With Us, and The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet – A Catch-Up Review

Thorn Hedge by T. Kingfisher
Genre: fantasy
I read it as a(n): hardback
Length: 116 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars

A retelling of “Sleeping Beauty,” Thorn Hedge asks, “What if Briar Rose slept not because she was cursed but to protect everybody else?” Not all curses should be broken, as the blurb says, and it’s true. Kingfisher takes a beloved fairy tale and breathes new life into it. I loved everything about this story – the atmosphere, the self-discovery, and the anxiety it gave me to think about what might happen if the Princess woke up. Also, I think there needs to be a cat at some point in my future that I will name Toadling.  

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White
Genre: SF
I read it as a(n): paperback
Length: 398 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 3 stars

I had read White’s second book, The Spirit Bares Its Teeth, a while back and loved it. My daughter read this one first and begged me to read it, too, so I did. I enjoyed it but I was kind of grossed out. I dig a good cult book and escaping from said cult, but the body horror in this one was over the top. I loved the characters, though, and the dynamics between them all.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers
Genre: SF
I read it as a(n): paperback
Length: 441 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 5 stars

I’ve had this one on my TBR for several years and I don’t know what took me so long to get around to reading it. I loved it! In some ways, it felt a bit like a more lighthearted version of The Expanse books. Not in terms of plot at all, but more in the sense of found family. It had enough action but also plenty of terrific world-building and character development. 

book review · sci-fi

Exploring Otherworldly Tales: A Review of The Ghost Machine, Generations (in the Firefly Series), and My Best Friend’s Exorcism

A book cover with a dark haired young woman in the background, a man with brown hair in the middle ground, and a black haired woman wearing a necklace in the foreground, with a spaceship in front.
Image retrieved from Goodreads

The Ghost Machine (Firefly) by James Lovegrove
Genre: sci-fi
I read it as a(n): hardback
Length:
336 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 3.5 stars

The crew of Serenity are hired by Badger to ship a device to a client on one of the outer worlds. Mal, though, gets a real bad feeling about it and declines to take it on board his ship. That doesn’t stop Jayne from bringing it on himself. Unfortunately for all, it is a device that attacks brainwaves, sending people into a coma-like sleep in which they have vivid hallucinations. They start out like everyone’s greatest dreams come true, but gradually change to their worst nightmare. Only River seems able to enter into the others’ visions, which she does in a desperate attempt to wake someone up before the ship crashes into a moon. 

I enjoyed this one, even though I don’t remember tons of details about it. It only took me 2 days to read. I liked it because it gave us a “what if” glimpse into what the crew’s secret desires are, though some are not hard to guess. The thing I seriously disliked was that Lovegrove seemed not to know what to do with Shepherd Book and Inara, so he shipped them off on an errand off-ship and they didn’t come back until the crisis was averted. I think he missed a great chance to fill in some of Book’s backstory in particular.

Book cover with a man in brown shirt with brown hair pointing a gun in front of him with a dark haired girl in the background
Image retrieved from Goodreads

Generations (Firefly) by Tim Lebbon
Genre: sci-fi
I read it as a(n): hardback
Length:
281 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 2.5 stars

Mal wins a strange star map in a game of poker and immediately the bad luck begins. Someone else tries to steal it and kill everyone in the process, River gets crazier because of something in the map, and there’s a Big Bad Secret that the Alliance has hidden in orbit around a far-outer planet. But, if the crew can manage to get there and back in one piece, there is a trove of historical relics worth a fortune on the black market. X marks the spot, I guess.

This one wasn’t as well developed as the previous three Firefly books. The characters seemed less complex and we didn’t really get a good view of things from River’s POV, even though she was the main protagonist in this one. Also, if I’m being honest, it was kind of slow. Not much actually happened. Probably my least favorite Firefly book so far, but I still enjoyed it because I will take Firefly in any way I can.

Book cover with a blonde girl with red eyes, owls and bats in the background, a clock tower, and 2 little girls holding hands
Image retrieved from Goodreads

My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix
Genre: horror
I read it as a(n): audiobook
Narrator: Emily Woo Zeller
Length: 10:11:00
Her Grace’s rating: 3 stars

Abby and Gretchen are best friends and have been ever since Gretchen saved Abby’s 10th birthday party from being a total disaster. The girls are inseparable until high school when, after a weekend spent at another girlfriend’s house, Gretchen starts acting strange. She stops washing or changing her clothes, she is cruel, and she dumps Abby in favor of richer friends. Abby eventually figures out that Gretchen is possessed by a demon and sets out to help her. Of course no one believes her.

So I got this one because I thought it would be funny. I mean, the title alone kind of implies humor. Also, demon possession is fucking hilarious. There are people who actually believe it’s real. But it was really not funny. It was a straight-up horror story, which is fine. I don’t usually care for actual horror because I can’t suspend my disbelief. See above comment about people actually believing in demon possession; I am not one of them. So that’s on me for not looking into it further before I got it. 

Mainly, though, it’s a story about friendship, growing up, and changing as you grow, which is a good enough theme. 

I listened to this on audio and the narrator, Emily Woo Zeller, did a good job, as usual. She may not be on my list of very favorite narrators but she is definitely good and I wouldn’t decline to listen to a book just because she’s narrating. 

book review · fantasy

The Queen and the Cure

the queen and the cure

The Queen and the Cure by Amy Harmon

Genre: fantasy

I read it as a(n): audiobook

Narrator: Steve West

Length: 10:57:00

Her Grace’s rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Amy Harmon’s The Queen and The Cure, the highly anticipated sequel to The Bird and The Sword, unfortunately falls short of its predecessor’s brilliance. While Harmon’s writing style and world-building skills are still evident, the book suffers from weak character development, a lackluster setting, a generally weird approach to magic, and a failure to establish strong connections to the previous installment.

Character development plays a crucial role in any story, and it’s here that The Queen and The Cure stumbles. The main character, Kjell, who we met in the previous book, lacks the depth and complexity that made Lark so interesting. Actually, Kjell himself was more interesting in The Bird and the Sword than he is in his very own book. His journey felt underdeveloped, and I felt there was a sense of disconnect and missed potential. Sorsha/Saoirse was just weird to me. She doesn’t remember, which, fair. Then proceeds to wrap Kjell around her little finger, falls in love with him in turn, then discovers her true identity and just like that can return to it? Sure, it says she wanted to stay with him but couldn’t. But why? It’s not even her home to begin with that she was returning to. It was an awkward plot device just to get Kjell to Sorsha’s home and have those events transpire. The supporting characters also lacked the growth and depth necessary to become fully fleshed people on a meaningful level.

The setting, a world filled with enchanting magic, was a standout feature in The Bird and The Sword. It was woven into the politics and culture and everything else. However, in this book, it felt almost like an afterthought. Like Kjell might be able to heal, but he does so reluctantly and still with a sense of shame that he is gifted. Either make him come around to the fact that he has an awesome skill, or else work out deeper reasons for why he continues to resist. But Harmon’s descriptions about that felt lacking in detail and failed to create a satisfying explanation. 

The lackluster setting also added to the overall disappointment of the book. Maybe it’s just me but I never got any real sense of the places where the action took place. I don’t know about the kingdom Kjell traveled to, or any sense of the trip itself, or the palace once we got there. Maybe I just didn’t care about the story much by that point.

The connections to the previous book were another letdown. I had hoped for a continuation of the story and a further exploration of that world, its politics, and its characters, but other than a few of the same characters making cameos, the sequel felt disjointed and lacked a strong connection to its predecessor. The references to the events and characters from the first book felt forced and superficial.

Despite its flaws, the book still had her signature writing style, which is fluid and engaging. Harmon’s ability to craft beautiful prose is evident throughout the book, making it a pleasant read despite the disappointment in other areas. The real saving grace for me was the narrator, Steve West. He did a terrific job with his reading and made the book more interesting to me than I think it would have been had I eyeball read it.

Overall, The Queen and The Cure falls short of my expectations. I didn’t hate it but I definitely didn’t love it as much as The Bird and the Sword and I have no intention to read it again. 

book review · fantasy

The Witch’s Boy

the witch's boy

The Witch’s Boy by Kelly Barnhill

Genre: fantasy

I read it as a(n): paperback

Length: 372 pp

Her Grace’s rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Once, there were twin brothers, Tam and Ned, who built a raft to go to sea. The raft broke and Tam drowned in the river. Ned nearly died of an infection until his mother, grieving over the loss of Tam, captured Tam’s soul and stitched it to Ned. The villagers said that the wrong boy lived because Ned was never the same, speaking with a terrible stutter and not being able to read or write. At the same time in another part of the world, Aine, the daughter of the bandit king, learns that the wrong boy will help her and save the kingdom from a devastating war.

This book was pure fantastical joy. It seamlessly wove together the magical with the mundane, which is one of my favorite storytelling tropes. Everywhere in the story, there are elements of magic, from the way Ned’s mother, known as Sister Witch, captures Tam’s soul, to the forest that moves and protects those it cares about, to the standing stones and their living memories. Magic in this world is wicked, always trying to lead those who wield it to misuse it in some way. Sister Witch remained good and uncorrupted by the magic because she kept it in a clay pot in the basement. Her one time slipping up was in stitching Tam’s soul to Ned. The villagers in general are quick to leave her and eventually Ned on the outskirts of society, but are even quicker to call on her if they need help to heal a sick child or injured adult. Ned, too, is shunned and demeaned, blamed in some way for Tam’s death and treated as an idiot because he couldn’t read or write and could barely speak. 

Set as a counterweight to Sister Witch’s goodness and her resistance to the corrupting influence of the magic is Aine’s father, the bandit king. He has a talisman made from a piece of the stones that hold most of the magic in the world. The stones are ready to move into a new form and leave the world, taking the magic with them. Aine’s father, however, is driven partly mad by the magic and he is at its whim, using it for wicked deeds and lacking the strength of will to control it. 

The way people view Sister Witch and Ned explores the idea that the things we fear the most can also be a source of salvation. The dichotomy between being seen as outcasts but also as someone who is needed is a great metaphor for the dualities we face in ourselves. It also shows that embracing differences and facing down our fears can lead to self-discovery and growth.

Love and friendship are central themes in the story. The unconditional love between Tam and Ned is fairly gut-wrenching. When Aine comes along, the friendship she and Ned form help him to deal with his grief and guilt while at the same time giving Aine a new focus for her unmoored existence. The bonds that form between Ned and Aine as well as between the wolf and both children show how genuine love and friendship can help to heal, awaken hidden strengths, and inspire deep courage. The trust, loyalty, and unflagging support this unlikely group of friends share with one another transcend the social norms of both their societies and defy the expectations of all who know them. In the end, Aine’s love for her father is what redeems him, though his redemption comes at a high price, and the love Ned’s parents have for him and his brother breaks the curse he’s had of carrying a soul that is not his. All of these various relationships highlight the transformative power of love.

At its core, The Witch’s Boy is a story about the transformative power of love and the unbreakable bonds of friendship. Barnhill effortlessly captures the essence of these emotions, exploring how they can guide us through life’s darkest moments. 

Favorite line:

  • A word, after all, is a kind of magic. It locks the substance of a thing in sound or syllable, and affixes it to the ear, or paper, or stone. Words call the world into being (29).
book review · sci-fi

Starship Grifters

starship grifters

Starship Grifters by Robert Kroese

Genre: sci-fi

I read it as a(n): audiobook

Narrator: Kate Rudd

Length: 7:26:00

Her Grace’s rating: 4 out of 5 stars

We’ve been lucky to have a ton of sci-fi space opera to read, and recent additions to the canon have been both full of action as well as making some astute social, religious, or political commentary amid various interstellar adventures and cosmic battles. Robert Kroese’s Starship Grifters is another refreshing and hilarious addition. This satirical space opera combines elements of classic science fiction tropes with a witty narrative that grabbed my attention (almost) from the start. I had a moment where I wasn’t in the mood for sci-fi the way I thought I was, and so it took me a little bit to get into this story. Once it got me hooked, though, all I wanted to do was listen to it.

I think the character development is a strength of the book. The protagonist, Rex Nihilo, is a lovable scoundrel with an insatiable appetite for trouble. Kroese skillfully crafts Rex as a charming yet flawed character (actually, he might be kind of a sociopath. I’m not entirely sure), whose resourcefulness and smart mouth often lead him into outrageous situations. As the story progresses, Rex just keeps landing himself in a series of progressively crazier calamities. At the same time, he also shows some surprising layers of depth beneath his initially superficial exterior. He’s still mainly superficial and does things that are the best for him, but he managed to surprise me on several occasions.

The supporting characters in the novel are equally memorable. Sasha, Rex’s robot sidekick, adds a touch of practicality and grounding to their escapades. She is the voice of reason that Rex decidedly ignores at every opportunity. Kroese infuses each character with unique traits and motivations, making them each well-rounded and fully-realized. The interactions between the cast are lively and entertaining, creating a dynamic ensemble that kept me interested in them and their adventures.

The setting overall is a delightful blend of futuristic technology and retro aesthetics. Do you remember that movie The Rocketeer? Sort of a steampunk/mid-century/detective noir aesthetic? This book was kind of like that, but in space. Kroese constructs a vivid universe filled with bustling spaceports, eccentric alien species, and advanced gadgets. The author’s attention to detail creates an immersive experience in this universe. It was pretty easy to visualize the places described and see the story as though I were a character observing from a distance. The world-building is done in a way that embraces the absurd and eccentric elements sometimes (but not always!) associated with science fiction, complementing the overall tone of the book.

Speaking of tone, humor permeates every page of Starship Grifters. Kroese combines witty banter, situational comedy, and clever wordplay to great effect. The narrative tone is lighthearted, and the author’s comedic timing shines throughout the story. That timing is further enhanced by Kate Rudd’s masterful narration. She nails Sasha’s dry tone perfectly and that deadpan delivery made for more than one laugh out loud moments. The humor is not only used for entertainment purposes but also as a vehicle for social commentary, poking fun at various aspects of human nature and society. This satirical approach adds an additional layer of depth to the story and elevates it beyond a simple space adventure story.

Going back to the audiobook and narration, as soon as I finished this book, I wanted to go and get the next one to listen to. Imagine my supreme disappointment when I discovered that Kate Rudd does NOT narrate the rest of the series! What the fuck? Why would you change a narrator from a good one to a not good one? The sample of book two wasn’t too promising and my skepticism regarding the skill of the new narrator seems to be borne out by many, many reviews saying that the story of the next two books are fun but the narration sucks. So unless the next books are ever an Audible daily deal or something, it is not very likely that I will bother listening to them. Maybe I’ll buy the print versions, though my self-imposed moratorium on buying new books is putting a crimp in that idea. 

All told, Starship Grifters is a highly enjoyable space opera that combines character-driven storytelling, an imaginative setting, and a comedic tone. Robert Kroese’s skillful development of the protagonist, engaging supporting cast, and the vibrant universe they inhabit make this novel a standout in the genre. Fans of science fiction with a penchant for humor will find themselves thoroughly entertained by this intergalactic romp. The main caveat I have is, if you are inclined to listen to the audiobooks, just know that Rudd won’t be narrating them all. You might want to steer clear of starting an audio series without knowing about the change in narrators. I wish I had known before I got this one.

book review · fantasy

The Bird and the Sword

the bird and the sword

The Bird and the Sword by Amy Harmon
Genre: fantasy
I read it as a(n): audiobook
Narrator: Trina Nishimura
Length: 10:57:00
Her Grace’s rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Set in a world where certain people possess magical abilities, referred to as Gifts, The Bird and the Sword tells about a Gifted young woman named Lark. Her Gift is the power to control words: she can come up with a rhyme and manipulate creatures, objects, and other people. However, in order to remain safe, her mother, who was also Gifted, put a spell on Lark that she must remain silent and never speak. As a result, Lark is mute and cannot even write because in their world, Gifts are seen as wicked and the Gifted are objects of hatred and persecution, outlawed by the king himself.

I loved the discussion about the power of words in this book. That concept has been explored in literature forever. Authors from antiquity to Shakespeare to modern-day novels have recognized the impact that language can have on our lives. The whole purpose of writing is to manipulate words and reality. So I liked that play on, well, words woven throughout the novel.

The new king, Tiras, takes Lark as a hostage to ensure her father’s compliance, but doing so has a far greater impact on their lives and the political landscape of their entire kingdom. As Lark navigates the political machinations of Tiras’s court, she discovers the true extent of her power. Her ability to control objects and beings is not limited to spoken words but extends to the written word as well. She can change reality just by altering the words on a page.

Through Lark’s experiences, Harmon highlights the immense power that words hold. They can be used to create and inspire, or they can be used to destroy and manipulate. In the hands of those who understand their power, words can change the course of history.

Related to that, the book also examines the responsibility that comes with possessing such power. Lark’s silence is a reminder of the danger that comes with speaking carelessly. Her ability to manipulate words also puts her in a position of great responsibility. She must use her power for good and resist the temptation to use it for personal gain. If ONLY certain U.S. politicians could grasp that very basic concept! The idea of words holding power is certainly not a new one, but The Bird and the Sword offers a fresh take on it. Harmon’s use of a fantasy setting allows her to explore the theme in a unique way, creating a world where the power of language is literal rather than metaphorical. Once again, this helps prove my point that sci-fi and fantasy are the perfect genres in which to examine social, political, religious, scientific, or other topics that people might object to if they were set in a realistic and recognizable world. 

The world-building in the book was vivid and imaginative. I was able to get fully immersed in the story. I always appreciate a well-planned and richly political story, and this checked those boxes. I think it is interesting to see how differently we can imagine various worlds or ways of managing a government. The character development was pretty good, though Tiras and Lark were the most developed of the cast. Some of the other characters were flatter or seemed there more to fill a role than to be a wholly-realized person. 

I listened to the audiobook version, narrated by Trina Nishimura, rather than eyeball reading this one. Nishimura’s performance was ok. I didn’t think it was the best, but it was certainly not the worst I’ve ever heard. Her voice isn’t as low or rich as some women’s voices are who narrate other books, so she sounded a little shrill sometimes. I am also firmly convinced that she should never, ever narrate a book with a lot of children characters. Her child’s voices were obnoxious and I’m glad there were only a couple short bits with children speaking. Overall, she did fine and it wouldn’t stop me from listening to another book if she were the narrator. She’s just not one of my favorites, and that’s ok. 

Overall, The Bird and the Sword is a fun and fast-paced read that offers an insightful commentary on the power of words. It serves as a reminder that words can be both a tool and a weapon and that we must use them wisely.