Genre: Literary Fiction Published: Jonathan Cape & RB Media, December 2023 My Rating: 4/5 stars Synopsis: A snapshot of one day in the lives of six women and men hurtling through space—not towards the moon or the vast unknown, but in orbit around our planet. We glimpse moments of their earthly lives through brief communications with family, their photos and talismans; we watch them whip up dehydrated meals, float in gravity-free sleep, and exercise in regimented routines to prevent atrophying muscles; we witness them form bonds that will stand between them and utter solitude. Most of all, we are with them as they behold and record their silent blue planet. Their experiences of sixteen sunrises and sunsets and the bright, blinking constellations of the galaxy are at once breathtakingly awesome and surprisingly intimate. So are the marks of civilization far below, encrusted on the planet on which we live. Review: Although marketed as a novel, Orbital reads more like an extended essay: a sort of existential musing on life, our planet, space-travel and our humbling smallness in the scope of things. When approached as such, it’s an incredibly successful work. It’s eloquent, stunningly worded and insightful, and manages the “largeness” of its themes without outstaying its welcome. It’s the sign of a brilliant author who understands their craft ánd subjectmatter, to be able to condense so much down into an under-200-page novella. Had Orbital been marketed as a literary essay, or piece of non-fiction writing, this would’ve been the end of my review: 5/5 stars, succeeded in everything it set out to do. Unfortunately, it’s marketed to be a novel, and as as a novel it falls flat in some requirements. A successful novel requires a few key elements: a setting, themes/message, characters and some form of plot/progression. Orbital delivers the former two, but not the latter. Our six cosmonauts never get enough page-time to develop into full characters, and simply exist as vessels for the authors ideas. There’s no development or arc to any of them, making all of them incredibly forgettable. Thematically, this might actually be the authors point: a commentary on how small and brief we all are. If I view the book through the lens of a non-fiction essay, that makes perfect sense. But if you go in expecting a novel with an actual storyline, character-interactions and development, I fear you’ll come away disappointed. Some notes on the audiobook: the narrator does a great job and she has a wonderful calming voice to listen to. Had I known beforehand the type of book this would be, I would’ve preferred a physical read. With literary essays, where the focus is so strongly on the language and writing, this is just my personal preference. Again: more of a critique towards the marketing than the actual book itself. Overall: if you’re in the market for a philosophical, literary essay on space, humanity and the environment, this one is for you! If you expect a space-novella with a plot and deep characters: you might want to reconsider. Thanks to RB-Media and Netgalley for providing me with an Audio-ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: YA Contemporary Published: Bloomsbury, 2017 My Rating: 3/5 stars “It's enough to make you believe. Maybe not in symbols; maybe not in gods. But certainly in people.” I’m a little on the fence, but this was… better than I expected… YA-contemporary is outside my usual genre, and Christian fiction really isn’t my thing, but I surprisingly enjoyed a lot more about The Names they Gave Us than I anticipated. This is a heartwarming story about a teenage girl sent off to be a camp-counselor at a secular youth-camp, whilst her mother is going through chemotherapy for her stage-3 breast cancer. Lucy, raised a Christian, has been struggling with her faith ever since her mothers diagnosis: how can God do something so cruel to her and her family? She’s incredibly hesitant to go to a secular camp because of this, on top of wanting to be close to her mum in this difficult time. Pressed by her mother who insist she goes, Lucy agrees and sets off for a summer of change where she meets people that shape the way she views life in different ways. What I liked: First off; the summer-camp-vibes in this book were on point. I truly felt the found-family vibes and bitter-sweet-summer-days-feeling so characteristic to those moments. Second, I hate to say “for a Christian-book”, but I’m doing it anyway. “For a Christian-book: this was incredibly inclusive and positive about the topic of different religious beliefs and walks of life. Often, there’s a certain preachiness to these stories that felt absent from Emery Lords story. Lucy’s faith is an important element of the story, but there is so much more to it. Starting off, she has a very narrow world-view, almost looking down on the “hippie-kids” at the secular camp, but as she gets to know the kids and counselors and their often heavy backstories, she learns to see them for more than their faith or past. What I didn’t like: This book is far from subtle about its messaging, and at times that becomes a little grating. Every camp-attendee is written like a bit of a precious-snow-flake. They all come from underprivileged backgrounds and have tough life-stories, but handle it with such beauty and grace, as to inspire the main character. It feels a bit too much like “inspiration-porn”, in which a very privileged author/audience get to fawn over the strength of these “poor sad victims”. There’s also an element of minority-bingo at play, with an obvious token-character from different minorities being present at camp. Think: a trans-characters, black characters, an Asian girl, a teen-mum, etc. They all “represent” their minority, but don’t have too much development as characters beyond that. To me, that’s not inclusive writing; that’s lazy writing. The intentions were in the right place, but the execution wasn’t there. Overall, a 3 star read that had the potential to be much better, but could’ve been far worse. I’m glad I picked it up, but don’t think I have any interest in continuing to read this authors work in particular. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: horror Published: NL: Luitingh Sijthoff, 2019, USA: Tor Nightfire, 2022 My Rating: 1/5 stars “There are holes in the ice. They look just like eyes.” There are holes in this plot too. They’re the size of craters… I’m starting to deeply regret my attempt of giving Thomas Olde Heuvelt’s backlist titles a second chance… After surprisingly loving his more recent works November and Orakel, I figured I might have changed by mind about his older works. First Hex, now Echo: I fully remember now why I detested this authors pre-2020-work. The Good: Echo sets up a decent premise following the fallout of a horrific mountaineering accident, that leaves one climber dead, and another with life-altering injuries. A series of strange and paranormal events follow, and alongside Nick (in the hospital recovering from his traumatic ordeal) and his boyfriend Sam we uncover the truth of what happened on the mountaintop that faithful day. The set-up is really interesting, the prologue hooks you in, and I truly appreciate Olde Heuvelt for centering his horror-novel around a loving gay couple, all the way back in the Wild-West-Times of the early 20-tens. Admittedly, Dutch fiction has always been far ahead of American when it comes to LGBTQ-representation in media, so this wasn’t the pioneering-feat some may think it was. Still, it’s nice to see two gay characters as horror-protagonists, rather than monster-fodder. The Bad: As with my review of Hex, we’ll need to take this by bullet-points for brevity sake. - the writing is atrocious. The author tries very hard to make his (young and cool) characters sound hip and relatable, and fails miserably. The constant “lingo” like “diddly squat”, “what givez” and words like “cuz” (not in text-message, but in a characters actual thoughts) is painful. - the pacing is possible even worse. This book is over 600 pages long, and has story-material for about 200. The utter redundancy and repetition on display here are astounding, and I don’t understand how neither a Dutch publisher, nor an international one pushed for some trimming down. - As mentioned: the collapses under its own plotsholes constantly. At times, the author tries to patch it up with an ex-machina coincidental revelation or event, but at others, questions simply aren’t answered. - Olde Heuvelt clearly has a format and tropes he loves to rely on, and I’m getting tired of them. Creepy-backwards-village hiding paranormal secrets from authorities and rest of the world, character-suicide-equals-scary. Oh, and boobs/pecs are cool… Seriously, this author has a strange obsession with boobs and pectoral muscles, and it possibly the scariest thing in this book… - Small MD-peeve, but neurosurgeons do not operate peoples faces… You mean ENT-specialists or plastic surgeons, but I guess that didn’t sound as cool… The Ugly: My true reason to detest this novel lies in its treatment and language surrounding disability and disfigurement. As a result of the mountain-events, Nick has suffered injuries and disfigurement to both his body and face. For the main part of the story, these disfigurements are the main source of “horror” in the book. Much of it comes through the eyes of Sam, who keeps lamenting about the beautiful body of his boyfriend before the accident, and shuttering at the horrifiying “thing” that’s in the hospital bed now. He constantly refers to Nick as “what’s left of him now”, and questioning if he can stay with him now that this has happened… First off: way to make your character seem like the most shallow and immature ass ever. Second, and more importantly: what a disgusting way to represent someone who’s been through a horrific trauma, and lifechanging bodily consequences… This kind of stuff is a strong dealbreaker for me, and Olde Heuvelt broke the deal hard with this one. Conclusion of my own little experiment: trust your own pre-2015 reviews and ratings… I might pick up this authors upcoming works if I’m truly interested, but I will NOT be going back to any of his old titles. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Horror Published: NL: Luitingh Sijthoff, April 2013, USA: Tor, April 2016 My Rating: 1/5 stars “Every last grain of idealism would be sacrificed on the altar of safety.” I first read this book back in January 2020, I and rated a generous 1-star. Then of course, the rest of that year happened and I completely forgot about the entire thing, including why I actually detested it so much. Now, coming fresh off the back of actually enjoying Olde Heuvelt’s newer works, I’d somehow convinced myself I may have made a mistake with Hex the first time around, and gave it a second shot. Dear reader; I did not make a mistake. It’s still awful enough to justify a full-on rant. Synopsis: Beek (or in the English Translation Blacksprings) is an idyllic town, straight off a postcard. Except for the curse that affects everyone who takes up residence here… Beek is haunted by the Wyler Heks (Black Rock Witch), a 17th century woman with eyes sewn shut, wandering the streets on a never-ending loop, or appearing in the villagers homes without warning. The villagers have kept “grandma” a secret for years; from misdirecting government-inquiries to simply covering her up with a sheet when tourists come by. Yet when a bunch of teenage vloggers start to poke around the ancient legends, the witches holding-pattern is irrevocably broken, and horrifying events unfold. What I like: The setting alone should’ve made Hex a hit for me. Although the English adaptation is set in a fictional Hudson Valley town, the original Dutch takes place in Beek: a real place, with real history. I happened to have grown up only a few miles from Beek, and spent much of my childhood in the very hills, forests and polders that inspired Olde Heuvelt. Mentions of the ascending Rijksweg, or Hotel Het Spyker, are a feast of recognition, which adds another level to the horror he imagines. Similarly along the lines of “setting”: I love how “set in the world” the Black Rock Witch is in the culture of the town. The impassionate, practical approach the no-nonsense village folks take towards the Witch is great, and a powerful statement of how so many towns across the world live alongside the atrocities of their past. What I didn’t like: I’m going bullet-point-style, because there’s a lot of points… - The characters it’s one thing to have unlikable characters in your horror novel, but a full town of insufferable adults and cringy teens is too much. Do not get me started on Grim; I get Olde Heuvelt was going for “stoic but good-hearted detective”, but what he achieved was just misogynistic, racist asshole. - Misogyny, nipples, boobs and high foreheads… Not only are many of this novels characters misogynists; the way Olde Heuvelt writes about his female characters reads as if he himself is one too… I cannot stress this enough: misogyny is blatant throughout, and serves absolutely no purpose. It’s not commentary on witch-trials (sorry Thomas, I can’t give you that benefit of the doubt), and doesn’t add to the creepiness or “funniness” as the author seems to think it does. If I read any more mention of a female characters boobs, nipples or foreheads (strangely, all obsessions of Olde Heuvelt, it seems), I might sow my own eyes shut. On a more serious note: there’s a scene depicting sexual assault of a fat woman that is played up for laughs/grossness(…?), which is one of the most inappropriately tasteless things I’ve had the displeasure of reading. - Mistaking being a jerk for “raw edgy humor” See my point above. No Thomas, this is not “just the way Dutch people joke”… It really is a you-problem. - Originality…? finally, I see this book being hailed as wholly original in many reviews, and I simply don’t get it. Maybe it’s the fact that these kinds of legends are more prevalent around these parts than they are worldwide, but I swear this is just another take on the [ witch-not-bad, town-bad-instead- (hide spoiler)] trope & the [sometimes-dead-is-better-trope (hide spoiler)]. We’ve seen it before, we’ve seen it since, and we’ve seen it done better. Might I suggest Pet Sematary…? - Plotholes deeper than the Beekse Valleys A lot of this story doesn’t hold up to even a second of scrutiny. There’s no internal logic to the character motivations, or the fact that this town has managed to keep all this under wraps for centuries being the bumbling idiots they are. Also, the questions you really want answered by the end… spoiler: they aren’t… There’s a climax that relies on gore and shock, and ultimately didn’t satisfy any curiosity I had left for the story at that point. Overall, I hate to dunk on a fellow-Dutch who made it big abroad, and I truly like Olde Heuvelt’s more recent works November and Orakel. There are plenty of awards for “best debut”, but if there was an award for “most improved since their debut”; this man deserves it. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Literary Fiction, Speculative Fiction Published: FriesenPress (independently published), July 2023 My Rating: 4.5 stars R.F. Vincent’s debut novel is wonderful. Literally… It combines elements of literary-, speculative fiction, humor and beautiful character-work, and casts it in the mold of a fictional scientific travel log to create something I’ve never read before, but couldn’t stop thinking about. It’s a wholly unique combination that sounds like it shouldn’t work, but Vincent pulls it off. Life at the Precipice is at times funny and absurdist, at others moving and deeply human, and in its entirety filled with a sense of memorable wonder. Synopsis: In 1959 an earthquake in central Vancouver Island devastated the lakeside community of Pyrite Ridge and triggered a landslide that cut the town off from the rest of the world. Now perched on the precipice of a yawning sinkhole and separated from the world by a wall of rubble, the town became a place of myth and lore. We follow Travis Sivart, a geophycisist and ex-military pilot battling PTSD, as he embarks on a weeklong research-trip to investigate the scientific truth behind these strange myths. In particular, the rumoured appearance of the towns very own Lake Monster nicknamed Seggie. Along the way, he meets a host of eccentric characters, each with their own fascinating story of how they came to The Segway. Through his research-journal and travel-log, we gain a unique insight into the town, its people and Travis’ own history. What I loved: The novel's format was what originally drew me to it, and it didn’t disappoint in its execution. Life at the Precipice reads almost like a non-fiction regional guide, mixed with a scientific journal. It includes maps, diagrams, drawings and footnotes that bring the story and its setting to life, beyond what a typical novel-format would allow. Pyrite Ridge jumps off the page, and feels like a place you might actually visit. I would personally love to, as it brims with equal parts mystery, quirk and charm. Each character reads like a person with their own history and life story, which adds a level of immersion and depth to the place. Some of the aspects of the town seem almost whimsical: impossibly impractical architecture, characters working unlikely careers and the hinted presence of creatures like Bigfoot and Seggie hidden in the surrounding wilderness… At other times, parallels drawn to Travis’ own life make the events in town almost more than real. The key-word in this all is balance. R.F. Vincent manages to balance his various chosen elements to near-perfection. Fact vs myth, community vs isolation, layered allegory vs whimsical entertainment, light-hearted humor vs the true emotional gut-punch that Travis’ own confrontation with his past brings… What I didn’t love: My single point of critique comes down to a personal dislike. It’s mentioned in the synopsis that Travis suffers from PTSD, but the nature of his trauma is only “revealed” as a sort of twist at the end. That trope often relies on forced amnesia from the protagonist, and can very easily slip into the territory of using the traumatic event as a “thrilling revelation”, which is risky. In this case, it was done in good faith and taste, so it didn’t bother me, but I can’t say I wasn’t nervous for a second. Overall, I highly recommend Life at the Precipice It feels like too much of its own thing to give you a single decent comp-title. It has the character-work and emotional development you’d find in any quality small-town-literary fiction-novel of your choice (I’m thinking Snow Falling on Cedars, but that’s probably just the similar cover…). Then add to that the format of “fiction-masquerading-non-fiction/travel-account” of City of Saints and Madmen and the humor and absurdist charm of the setting of Welcome to Night Vale, and I think you might be close. Many thanks to the author, FriesenPress and Netgalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Horror, Sci-fi/Speculative Fiction Published: Tor, September 2022 My Rating: 4.5/5 stars "Despite logical input from a conscious mind, a body fears what it fears.” This Halloween-season I felt myself a bit burned out on the same old horror-tropes and was in the market for something completely original. Boy, did Ennes deliver that! Her debut novel brings an brilliantly intelligent and original piece of speculative horror like you’ve never read before. If it weren’t for the ending, this would’ve been an easy 5-star. There’s little I can say about the plot of Leech without giving too much away, as much of the joy of this book is putting the puzzle-pieces together for yourself. In a postapocalyptic frozen world, the baron's personal physician dies a horrible death, seemingly by his own hand. The new replacement doctor has one mystery to solve: how the Institute lost track of one of its many bodies. Soon they find themselves up to a foe they didn't expect: a parasite even more devious and cunning than themselves. What I loved: Leech plunges us into a world that feels inhospitable, yet intriguing from the get-go. Although our story starts in the relatively confined setting of the Chateau, it’s apparent that a larger world, quite unlike our own, exists outside. This worlds lore isn’t spoon-fed to you. Instead, Ennes trusts the readers intelligence to piece it together from glimpses and fragments of its hostility that we come by naturally through the unfolding of the plot. I was on edge and engaged, actively trying to solve the mystery alongside the protagonist. Thematically, this book couldn’t have been more up my alley. Ennes is a medical student, and the themes she discusses in the book are very closely linked to the medical field. To me, as an MD, I deal with many of these dilemmas on a daily basis and I loved seeing them explored in a sci-fi-horror-setting like this. From ethical questions on patient-care and bodily autonomy(What should be the limits of medical involvement? How far should we go in extending life? Who does and who doesn’t have access to healthcare and what does that mean for their quality of life?), to the toll this line of work takes on the professional themselves. Especially that latter isn’t something I’ve seen discussed before all too often. The use of a particular sci-fi element, as well as the way the “Leeches” are treated is an interesting vessel to explore the way us doctors see ourselves and are seen by others. “Profession above self/individuality” is a commonly pushed motto, which Ennes explores wonderfully. What I didn’t love: The lack of exposition and explanation is one of the novels strength, but also comes at the risk of making it at times confusing. You are held responsible for keeping up, which risks some readers tapping out when the story becomes too outlandish. Although I didn’t have an issue with that, I did feel let down by the ending. A more indepth description, including spoilers can be found in my Goodreads-review, behind the spoiler-tag. All I can say here is: there’s an element that makes the story unique, that is lost along the way. It’s done purposefully so, but it takes away from the novels strongest sides and makes the ending weaker in return. As it stands, it’s a fantastic 4-star book, but with a different ending, this could’ve been an all-time favourite. I can see this being a marmite-book that you either love or hate, but if you enjoy science-inspired, weird fiction with themes of medical horror, bodily autonomy and individuality, I highly recommend you give it a chance. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Magical Realism, Horror, Speculative Published: Angry Robot Press, November 2023 My Rating: 5/5 stars “No. This was a truth that I couldn’t swallow, and it rolled around my mouth, heavy on my tongue. I knew I should be sad, but I felt empty instead, as if something had been scooped out and not replaced. But in that hole, something lived and breathed, and it was flapping for attention.” Caroline Hardakers sophomore novel had the honours of being my final anticipated release of 2023. Despite its purposefully enigmatic synopsis that only lifts the very tip of the veil of mystery that surrounds this story, I’ve been intrigued ever since its announcement. I can happily say, it lived up to the long wait. With its stunning prose that echoes the authors past work in poetry, its disorienting spin of events and its wonderfully resonant emotional core, Mothtown is one of the most haunting stories to come out this year. David has always been an odd kid. A constant sense of displacement, and “otherness” has kept him from ever feeling completely at home in this world. His solid anchor, his home and kindred spirit, is his likeminded granddad, who’s eccentric interests and ideas fascinate young David. Especially Granddads work on multiverse-theory that even got him published once, has an electric pull on David. Mothtown tells David’s story, as it is split into two time lines by an event that irrevocably divided his life into before and after; the death of grandfather. Without warning, without goodbye, Grandpa is gone and the world around him starts to take on strange and unsettling shapes. Unnerving events around town, missing people, bodies are showing up with wings, or bones in nests if you believe the rumours from the kids at school… And then, there’s the clues that Grandpa left behind; clues hinting that he didn’t die, but went away to another place. With increasing desperation, David sets off on a quest through a hostile landscape, piecing together the breadcrumb-trail Grandpa left behind, in hopes of finding that place where he doesn’t feel out of place. Many of the events of the book remain shrouded in mystery and ambiguity, yet plenty is offered for the reader to understand what’s happening before them. Mothtown has strong themes of mental health, grief and trauma, and used magical realism to depict them in a way that almost feels “truer than life”. The way I interpreted the story, it’s one of the best and most intimate portrayals of a dissociative episode, or psychotic break, depicted from the inside, that I’ve ever seen on page. The way David's world splits following an event so horrible his mind cannot accept the reality of, is heartbreaking, harrowing and eerily resonant to read. From a technical point, the authors writing is impeccable throughout. From the characterization, to the environmental descriptions, to the intense atmosphere; everything works synergistically to create this masterpiece. Although the book is tagged as “horror”, there are very few outward moments of fear throughout. Instead, the entire story is drenched in an unrelenting feeling of dread and displacement that, to me, was far more effective than any in-your-face-scares could be. Dread surrounding the unexplainable events happening, dread from a protagonist who’s desperately trying to make sense of a world that has fractures all around him, and the dread from you as the reader watching these events unfold, knowing the outcome likely won’t be a happy one. All in all, I cannot recommend this book highly enough. Comp-titles aren’t easy to find with something as unique as this, but Piranesi by Susanna Clarke comes to mind. Many thanks to Angry Robot Press and Dreamscape Audio for providing me with both an audio- as well as a regular ARC in exchange for an honest review. Both formats add in unique ways to the story: the audio with its superb narration, and the physical/e-book by the stunning illustrations by Chris Riddell sprinkled throughout. Mothtown is set for release on November 14th in stores, online and in audio-format. More information can be found here through Goodreads.

Genre: Historical Fiction, mystery/thriller Published: HarperCollins, October 2023 (UK) My Rating: 3.5/5 stars “I mean, I literally don’t have the words” I say. (…) “It’s like, some things that happen to a person are so awful that they exist outside language. Am I making sense?” I see her eyes have softened. “You’re making complete sense.” CJ Cooke brings another chilling supernatural thriller with a ghostly twists, with her latest release A Haunting in the Arctic. With many elements that I loved in Cookes previous works (a dual-timeline narrative, split between present and past, elements of North-European folklore, an isolated and inhospitable location that the author excels at bringing to life with her words) present here too, I went in with high hopes and expectations. Although I didn’t feel like it lived up to the quality of The Lighthouse Witches and The Ghost Woods, I still enjoyed my time with it, and will recommend it for fans of gothic historical mystery searching for their next midwinter read. Told in dual time-line, through the eyes of two young women over a century apart, our story follows the history of the Oreman; whaling-vessel on the arctic seas between Scotland and Iceland. In 1901, Nicky finds herself an unwilling stowaway amongst the sea-hardened whaling-crew, a victim to their whims and that of the sea. In 2023, the wreck of the Oreman has found its final resting place in a remote Icelandic fishing village, shrouded in mystery and local folklore. Urban explorer Dominique, fascinated by the mysteries surrounding what happened during its final voyage, is determined to find the wreck and unravel its history. She soon finds herself not alone on the ship. Some histories are too impactful to say buried forever. As mentioned: Cooke excels at bringing atmospheric, isolated settings to life with her words, and the remote shipwreck of the Oreman is a perfect canvas for her to paint on. I felt the chills up my spine on multiple occasions, both from the descriptions of the cold, the terrors of claustrophobia and loneliness, and the all too real terrors of seafaring life in the early 20th century. I truly felt for the protagonists: both women in undeniable peril, but never being cast into the “damsel in distress”-role. The mystery across time had me hooked until the end, but unfortunately the final reveal didn’t hold up to scrutiny. The ending hinges on a very overdone trope that I’m personally tired of seeing, and wasn’t foreshadowed properly enough to feel earned. It took away from the strength of the rest of the book enough for me to drop a star of my rating, and round it down in the Goodreads-system. Based off the authors previous track-record and the amazing writing quality that was on display for the rest of the novel, I will still absolutely read anything the author comes up with next. I just hope the ending doesn’t follow the shipwreck-theme of this one. You can find this book here on Goodreads. Note: A Haunting in the Arctic is out now in European territory, and is sceduled for release in the US in early 2024.

Genre: Horror Published: Bantam, October 2022 My Rating: 2/5 stars “Myths are as much a part of the slipstream of Black life as joy. Yes, Black folks are masters of joy. Trauma isn’t the only thing carried in DNA. Blackness, like any Golden Fleece, is both a birthright and what lies at the end of a quest.” Jackal is one of the most extreme examples of how a poor ending can completely ruin an otherwise strong book. I knew going in, that this was met with mixed reviews upon release. Up until about the 85% mark, I was truly confused as to why: the writing was strong, the social commentary was well done and the mystery kept me engaged. Then the final 50 pages just lost the plot… Synopsis: Liz Rocher is coming home . . . reluctantly. As a Black woman, Liz doesn’t exactly have fond memories of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, a predominantly white town with a bloody history in more ways than one. Every couple of years, a young black girl has gone missing in the woods surrounding the town, only to be found brutally murdered some time later. This pattern has repeated for as long as Liz can remember, but police take no interest in the cases. When Liz’s returns for a weekend back in Johnstown, in order to attend her best friend’s wedding, she braces herself for passive-aggressive reunions. She didn’t brace herself for another disappearance. Yet when the bride’s daughter Caroline becomes the next black girl in line to go missing, Liz takes it upon herself to find out what is really going on in the underbelly of her hometown, and who or what is to blame for these horrific disappearances. What I loved: As mentioned: I was fully on board for the first 250+ pages. Adams’ strong writing created a tense atmosphere of claustrophobia in this small town community, where the undercurrent of racism and prejudice create a constant sense of unwelcomeness. It makes perfect use of one of my favourite tropes: a main character having to return to their hometown, and experiencing the deep-rooted effects of their upbringing here, despite thinking they’ve gotten out. Racism, classism, and the injustices of the Justice-system, especially within American culture, are strong themes here. To me, as a non-American, reading about these topics is fascinating and frightening, despite not being personally relatable. I cannot speak to the accuracy of the representation, but based off own-voice reviews I’ve read, it was well done. The book had me truly on edge, because of how realistic this lingering sense of mistrust, superstition and grudge felt. All the more disappointing when the ending didn’t evoke that same feeling. What I didn’t love: It’s almost impossible for me to explain how poorly done this ending was without spoiling it, but I’ll try my best anyway. In short; it boils down to a reveal and climax that felt rushed, out of left field, and ultimately mismatched with the style and themes of what came before. *** SPOILERS AHEAD *** Throughout the story, both natural and supernatural threats are hinted at, so I would’ve been fine with either ending, since proper foreshadowing was present. It was the way in which the ending was presented that ruined the story for me. It felt extremely exposition-heavy. The reveal of the identity of the killer is followed by a scene of an almost “villain-monologue”, in which they explain their motivations, background and MO in detail. The delivery feels so clunky and artificial that it breaks down the power off what came before. Then there’s the issue of the reveal not matching the rest of the story. As mentioned: I would’ve been fine with either a supernatural-, natural- or combined explanation. But fucking ANUBIS!?! Absolutely nothing in the story (either culturally, thematically or plot-wise) even remotely pointed there. I would’ve been fine with an original entity, or perhaps even a culturally relevant God with links to themes of prejudice/revenge etc… But dragging in an Egyptian death-god, which by the way is a gross oversimplification of the actual cultural relevance of Anubis in Egyptian culture, felt misplaced and inappropriate. For a novel that has so many great things to say about racism, this “taking” of an oversimplified version of another cultures God, felt eerily close to cultural appropriation to me. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Young Adult Horror Published: Clarion Books, September 2023 My Rating: 2/5 stars Although YA-horror isn’t my typical genre, every once in a while a synopsis intrigues me enough to step outside my comfort zone and give it a try regardless. Sometimes that leads to new favourites, sometimes it leads to disappointment. Unfortunately, this was the latter. Allow me to pull out the good-old Good-Bad-and-Ugly-format again for this one, as I somehow feel it applies. Synopsis: Two teenagers find themselves trapped in a corn-maze without an end. They cannot remember how long they’ve been here, or how they’ve ended up in this situation in the first place. Soon however, they discover they aren’t alone in the maze as bodies begin to appear amongst the cornstalks. Bodies that look identical to them, killed in various violent ways… Are they body-doubles? Previous iterations of themselves, who’s wrong turns cost them dearly? And more importantly: who else is with them in the maze, dealing these deadly blows? The Good: What Stalks Among Us wastes absolutely no time to hook you into an tense mystery from page one. The narrative plunges you in in medias res, trusting the reader to get their feet under them in time to follow along with the story. I truly appreciate when an author trusts its audience enough to do this, in favour of overexplaining a back-story and detailing out the “rules of a world” in long exposition. Many important themes are addressed, including friendship, mental health, bodily difference and the various lesser-known ways an abusive relationship can manifest. Although I think the author does so with varying degrees of success (see the Ugly section), I appreciate them taking on these topics. One of my favourite aspects to the story though, has to be the friendship between Logan and Sadie; they're supportive, positive and have great banter together. Their friendship reads like one that has had time to form over time before we meet them, which is difficult to write, but the author nails this dynamic between them. The Bad: Many of the novels problems are the logical flipside to its strengths. For one: it’s lack of explanations can be quite confusing, and the start of the novel feels incredibly abrupt, without any proper build-up. As a result, the pacing throughout the middle feels uneven in comparison, especially once the plot becomes inevitably repetitive (considering the element of time-loops and redo’s). Second, the novel requires a lot of suspension of disbelieve, and “trusting the author” from its readers. I’m not talking about the supernatural elements of the maze, but more so the lack of internal logic that seems at play here. Throughout the story, we see Sadie and Logan slowly solve pieces of the maze’s puzzle, using logic and what they call their “maze-intuition”. I’m not completely sure what the author was aiming for with this, but it often became a device to move the plot along in ways that didn’t feel completely earned. I love when characters solve clues and mysteries using their intelligence, but the conclusions that Logan and Sadie draw based off their “maze-intuition” do not follow logically from what came before. As such, this intuition often feels like the author whispering the right answer in the characters ears, just to move the plot along. Speaking of the plots; apart from these non-sequesters, there are quite a few plotholes and questions unanswered. The Ugly: I’m likely voicing the unpopular opinion here, but representation has always been is such a vital element of my reviews that I have to mention it. Representation has become “trendy” in recent years, and although that’s done a lot of good, there’s a shadow-side to it too. This book falls into two pitfalls I see often, and want to point out. 1. Minority-baiting. This book is marketed heavily as having LGBTQ and BIPOC representation. Although yes, Logan is East-Asian and Sadie is described as bisexual, neither are every shown to page, or have any bearing on the plot. Sadie’s only shown relationship is a heterosexual one, and if the paragraph where she declares herself bisexual had been cut, nothing about the story would’ve been different. The same goes for Logans ethnicity, which is never brought up, other than in aesthetic descriptors. This isn’t good representation; it’s doing the bare minimum to appeal to a trend, and doesn’t benefit the affected minorities. 2. The one form of representation that the author truly does seem to care about, is the fat-representation, and to me, it was very grating. Hear me out here: There’s a difference between representation and activism. In my opinion; that distinction was lost here, and it took away from the power of the message. Sadie isn’t allowed to be a fat girl, just existing on page. She is made into a vessel for fat-activism, monologuing in extremely forced ways about systemic fat-phobia and the world not being adapted to “people of size”. Yes, she also hits all the keywords that are only actually used in the fat-activism movement in each and every conversation. Making these conversations so rehearsed, so SJW-correct and so abrasively in-your-face, takes away from relatability the power that recognizing yourself on page. The novel is guilty of using “quasi-intelligent wording popularized by social media” in order to sound more profound than it is. It’s in the fat-activism-talk, but also in the very blatant presence of “therapy-speak”. When discussing relationships, words like “emotional abuse”, “sociopath”, “narcissist” and “gaslighting” are used, often not in their proper context. Two of those are actual psychiatric diagnoses, and we shouldn’t normalize teen-characters throwing around terms like this, or diagnosing their peers without a medical background. Abuse and mental illness are very important themes to discuss, but we shouldn’t harm the discussion by using loaded terms like this outside of their proper context. Please note that all opinions here are mine, and you’re completely entitled to yours. if this was your favourite book of the year: I’m happy you loved it, and would love to peacefully agree to disagree with you. You can find this book here on Goodreads

In which I talk about 30-ish of my favourite science-fiction novels, organized by trope and subgenre. Time Travel & Alternate Realities... - Dark Matter – Blake Crouch A college physics professor wakes up in an alternate version of his life where nothing is as he as he knows it; having to solve the mystery of what happened to him in order to find out the truth and make his way back to the wife and son he misses. by the same author, with similar themes: Recursion, Wayward Pines trilogy - Doors of Eden – Adrian Tchaikovsky A disappearance on the Moors merges with a physicists theoretical research into the small cracks between our world and countless others. Parallel Earths where monsters live. These cracks are getting wider every day, so who knows what might creep through? Or what will happen when those walls finally come crashing down... - One Word Kill – Mark Lawrence Teenage Nick is used to escaping the real world horrors of his cancer-treatements by playing Dungeons & Dragons with his friends. One night, reality and fiction begin to merge as Nick finds himself followed by a man with strange abilities that shouldn't exist, warning him his friends are in danger. What follows is a tale of time, fantasy, friendship and bravery, worthy of a honorary D&D campaign. - Catfish Rolling – Clara Kumagai In the wake of an earthquake that disrupted a nation, the hardest hit area's of Japan have broken up into time-zones: areas of space where time flows at different speeds. Both Sora and her father, grieving the loss of their partner and mother, have been obsessively exploring these zones in secret, each with motives of their own. Her father seeks a scientific answer to the incomprehensible. Sora seeks her mother, who went missing during the quake, hoping to find her trapped in time somewhere. Out of this world: stories set in space... - Shards of Earth – Adrian Tchaikovsky After earth was destroyed, mankind created a fighting elite to save their species, enhanced humans such as Idris. In the silence of space they could communicate, mind-to-mind, with the enemy. Then their alien aggressors, the Architects, simply disappeared—and Idris and his kind became obsolete. 50 years later, Idris and his crew have discovered something strange abandoned in space. It's clearly the work of the Architects—but are they returning? And if so, why? - The Martian – Andy Weir Following a terrible accident during the first manned-mission to Mars, one man is left alone behind, presumed dead by his colleagues. With nothing but himself and his wits to fall back on, Mark is determined to survive until rescue arrives. - To Sleep in a Sea of Stars – Christopher Paolini During a routine survey mission on an uncolonized planet, a female austronaut finds an alien relic, that attaches itself to her skin. Soon, she finds herself wrapped up in events of stellar proportions. As war erupts among the stars, she is launched into a galaxy-spanning odyssey of discovery and transformation. First contact isn't at all what she imagined, and events push her to the very limits of what it means to be human. - We Have Always Been Here – Lena Nguyen Stuck on an unexplored planet after a radiation storm wrecked their ship, it's up to the misanthropic ship-psychologist to determine whether their strange behaviour is due to cabin-fever, or something more sinister alltogether. More novels about Space, but not (completely) set in Space - The Infinite Tides – Christian Kiefer Keith has spent his entire life preparing to be an astronaut. At the moment of his greatness, finally aboard the ISS, hundreds of miles above the earth’s swirling blue surface, he receives word that his 16-year-old daughter has died in a car accident, and that his wife has left him. Returning to earth, and to his now empty suburban home, he is alone with the ghosts, the memories and feelings he can barely acknowledge, let alone process. - In Ascension – Martin MacInnis A scientific discovery leads a Dutch marine biologist with a traumatic past on an unprecedented journey across the natural world, and ultimately up into the stars. - Good Morning Midnight – Lily Brooks Dalton Two isolated individuals; one stranded on an arctic base and the other an astronaut on a one-way-trip towards Jupiter, find connection and solace in communication with eachother over the radio. - The Book of Strange New Things – Michel Faber A pastor leaves his family behind on Earth as he's called to the mission of a life-time: join an extraterrestial colonisation-mission to teach the life-forms found there about religion, in this philosophical novel about connection and distance (both literal and metaphysical). Cozy Science Fiction: These books will warm you heart after your track into the cold depths of space... - In the Lives of Puppets – T.J. Klune A queer (loose) retelling of Pinoccio, in which one of the last remaining humans in a dystopian future overrun by AI assembles a family for himself out of found and spare parts. - Light from Uncommon Stars – Ryka Aoki A cozy, futuristic adventure set in California's San Gabriel Valley, with cursed violins, Faustian bargains, and queer alien courtship over fresh-made donuts. - A Psalm for the Wild-Built – Becky Chambers Decades after robots have gained selfawareness and walked off into the woods, never to be seen again, the life of the tea monk is upended when one of them returns. This robot asks him a simple question; the one that started its life altogether. What do you Need? First contact: books about the trouble of communicating with Aliens... - The Space Between Us – Doug Johnstone When several people suffer strokes after seeing dazzling lights over Edinburgh, then awake completely recovered, they’re convinced their ordeal is connected to the alien creature discovered on a nearby beach… - Solaris – Stanislaw Lem When Kris Kelvin arrives at the planet Solaris to study the ocean that covers its surface, he finds a painful, hitherto unconscious memory embodied in the living physical likeness of a long-dead lover. - The Themis Files – Sylvain Neuvel A young girl accidentally makes a discovery that will change humanity's future forever: a gigantic metal hand, buried beneath the Earth. 17 years later, Rose is now the leader of a team of scientific top-minds, hoping to unravel the persistant mystery of the bizarre artifact; it's origins, architects, and purpose. - Semiosis – Sue Burke Forced to land on a planet they aren't prepared for, human colonists rely on their limited resources to survive. The planet provides a lush but inexplicable landscape, while the ruins of an alien race are found entwined in the roots of a strange plant. Conflicts between generations arise as they struggle to understand one another and grapple with an unknowable alien intellect. Melancholic Dystopia’s - Station Eleven – Emily St. John Mandel Set in the wake of civilization's collapse due to a devestating flu pandemic, we follow the story of a Hollywood star, his would-be savior, and a nomadic group of actors roaming the scattered outposts of the Great Lakes region, risking everything for art and humanity. also recommended by the same author: The Glass Hotel, Sea of Tranquility - Never Let Me Go – Kazuo Ishiguro A trio of friends grow up in an isolated English boarding school, far from the influences of the city. When two of them leave the grounds as adults, the remaining girl finally gains a little insight into the world beyond, and begins to realize the full truth of what her entire childhood at Hailsham has been leading up to. - How High We Go in the Dark – Sequoia Nagamatsu A novel told in vignettes that follows a cast of intricately linked characters over hundreds of years as humanity struggles to rebuild itself in the aftermath of a climate plague. Genre-benders: blurring the line between Sci-fi and Fantasy - The Winnowing Flame Trilogy – Jen Williams The great city of Ebora, once the home of riches, wisdom and ruling tree-gods, has fallen into derelict, following a cataclysmic event in the past only referred to as “the Eight Rain”. We follow an unlikely aliance of an adventurous archaeologists, an outlawed witch, and a former nobleman fallen from grace, as they try to unravel the events surrounding the Eight Rain, hoping to stop, or at least prepare for the imminent Ninth Rain. - Cage of Souls – Adrian Tchaikovsky A sci-fi-fantasy hybrid set in a prison on an inhospitable jungle-island in a postapocalyptic world. We follow the trials and tribulations of Stefan Advani, a scholarly political prisoner, as he attempt to navigate prison-politics with his brain, rather than brawl. - The Founders Trilogy– Robert Jackson Bennett A thief gets her hands on more than she bargained for when she accidentaly steals an object of immeasurable power from a powerful mob-family. An object that not only begins to communicate with her, but allows her to unlock a hidden talent for a unique form of powerful science. Biopunk - Frankenstein – Mary Shelley Obsessed with creating life itself, Victor Frankenstein plunders graveyards for the material to fashion a new being, which he shocks into life with electricity. But his botched creature, rejected by Frankenstein and denied human companionship, sets out to destroy his maker and all that he holds dear. - Leech – Hiron Ennes In a postapocalyptic frozen world, the baron's personal phycisian dies a horrible death, seemingly by his own hand. The new replacement doctor has one mystery to solve: how the Institute lost track of one of its many bodies. Soon they find themselves up to a foe they didn't expect: a parasite even more devious and cunning than they themselves. - Borne – Jeff Vandermeer In a ruined, nameless city of the future, a scavenging woman, finds a creature she names “Borne” entangled in the fur of Mord, a gigantic, despotic bear that has roamed the corridors of the biotech organization known as the Company for years. As she nurtures Borne to health and fruition, he grows into something neither of them could've expected. If you're looking for even more books that caught my eye (and might catch yours); you can check out my dedicated Sci-fi/Speculative Goodreads-shelf here. Note that this is a perpetually running list: entries may be added or changed at any time as I read more.

Up until about 5 or 6 years ago, horror was a genre I actively avoided. Having my only exposure to it as a child/young teen being the cheesy spooks of the Goosebumps-books, I never really developed a taste for them. Then, a few years ago, well into my personal reading-renaissance, I suddenly found myself possessed by the spirit of horror and delved deep into the dark, gothic and chilling side of fiction. As of today, horror is probably in my top-5 genres from which I read the most. I've talked about horror fiction as a vehicle of processing grief and trauma (see also my Ultimate Guide on that subject here), but I also love a good-old-fun popcorn-horror from time to time. In this list I will talk about a bunch of my favourite novels within the genre, clustered loosely by trope, theme or subgenre. You might notice two big horror tropes, that I tend to love, to be absent in this list. That is because I’ve already created dedicated posts/guides with over 50 recommendations for each of these. If you’re looking for those, be sure to check out my Guide to Ghost Fiction, as well as my Guide to Witch Fiction. Classics and their adaptations Some of my favourite classics and the works that their legacy inspired... - The Classic: The Haunting of Hill House – Shirley Jackson The Adaptation: A Haunting on the Hill – Elizabeth Hand - The Classic: The Fall of the House of Usher – Edgar Allan Poe The Adaptation: What Moves the Dead – T. Kingfisher - The Classic: Frankenstein – Mary Shelley The Adaptations: Our Hideous Progeny - C.E. McGill Spare and Found Parts – Sarah Maria Griffin A Botanical Daughter - Noah Medlock - The Classic: The Willows – Algernon Blackwood The Adaptation:  The Hollow Places – T. Kingfisher also recommended by the same author: A House With Good Bones, Nettle and   Bone. Family Curses & Generational Hauntings: When terror passes down through time... - The Hollow Kind – Andy Davidson - The Book of Accidents – Chuck Wendig - Build Your House Around My Body – Violet Kupersmith - Beloved – Toni Morrison Mind-bending, cosmic and existential: Horror that makes you question reality and/or your sanity... - The Library at Mount Char – Scott Hawkins - Annihilation – Jeff Vandermeer - Bird Box – Josh Malerman - Looking Glass Sound – Catriona Ward - House of Leaves – Mark Z. Danielewski Underwater Horror: A personal favourite trope of mine... - Deeplight – Frances Hardinge - Our Wives Under the Sea – Julia Armfield - A House at the Bottom of the Lake – Josh Malerman Sometimes (Un)Dead is better: Stories in which the dead refuse to rest... - Pet Sematary – Stephen King - The Undead Truth of Us – Britney S. Lewis - The Graveyard Book – Neil Gaiman - All the Dead Lie Down - Kyrie McCauley Terrors of parenthood: Books that focus on the horrors and anxieties of motherhood... - C.J. Cooke – The Lighthouse Witches also recommended by the same author: The Ghost Woods, A Haunting in the Arctic - Composite Creatures – Caroline Hardaker - The Upstairs House – Julia Fine - The Drown Our Daughters – Katrina Monroe - Nestlings - Nat Cassidy Lost in the Woods: In which more than darkness lurks between the trees... - In the Nightwood by Dale Bailey - The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher - Pine by Francine Toon Small Town Paranormal... Following the likes of Stephen King and Stranger Things: atmospheric horror stories set in small-town-(southern)-USA... - Black Water – Michael McDowell - The Saturday Night Ghost Club – Craig Davidson - Black Mouth – Ronald Malfi - The Dead and the Dark - Courtney Gould Body- Horror: From body-invasion-horror to the terrors of dementia, as a medical doctor, you might expect me to be immune to these... I can promise you; I'm not... - Sealed – Naomi Booth - We Spread – Iain Reid - Leech – Hiron Ennes - Chlorine – Jade Song Popcorn-horror: books that read like a horror-movie: I may not have been terrified to my bone, but I had so much fun reading these... - How To Sell a Haunted House – Grady Hendrix also recommended by the same author: Horrorstör - Home Before Dark – Riley Sager - The Anomaly – Michael Rutger Short but So creepy: Novella’s to give you maximal chills in minimal pagecount... - Crossroads – Laurel Hightower - Mapping the Interior – Stephen Graham Jones - Wild Spaces – S.L. Coney - Green Fuse Burning - Tiffany Morris Middle-grade chills: horror for readers 10-15 years of age... Whether you're a younger reader, or a self-confessed scardy-cat, these books will give you chills without the nightmares... - Root Magic – Eden Royce - Spirit Hunters – Ellen Oh - This Appearing House – Ally Malinenko also recommended by the same author: Ghost Girl - Field of Screams – Wendy Parris If after all that, your thirst for horror-recommendations still isn't quenced, you can find even more of them in my Halloween-Recommendations from last year or the year before, or see what I've shelved on my Goodreads TBR-shelf under the horror-tag. Feel free to send your personal favourite horror-recs my way, either via a comment or recommendation on Goodreads. Until that time: Happy reading and happy chills.

I’ve fallen back on books at the most difficult times in my life more times than I can count. They’ve been a comfort, an escape, and at times a way to help me put into words and make sense of the thing I was experiencing and what it did to me. I know that I’m not alone in that powerful experience of books assisting me in those times. For that reason, The Ultimate Guide to Novels on (Healing from) Trauma has been on my to-write list for years now. Like my Grief- and Disability, Illness and Body Guides, it’s very close to my heart, and one that will be forever changing and expanding as long as I read. So even more so than my previous guides: consider this one a work in progress. Because of the sheer length of this list, I will keep descriptions limited to a few key-words and link to its corresponding Goodreads-pages for a full plot-synopsis. Major trigger warnings will be mentioned for each book; note that these are “general”, and therefor can never be exhaustive. My recommendation will be clustered by genre, and sometimes theme, but opening this post will be my personal all-time favourite books that helped me. I consider this list a success if at least one other person finds a book that helps them. Books that helped me personally 1. Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer Genre: literary fiction, sci-fi Synopsis: Area X has been cut off from the rest of the world for decades. Nature has reclaimed the last vestiges of human civilization. The first expedition returned with reports of a pristine, Edenic landscape; that ended in disaster. After 11 failed expeditions, it’s up to the twelfth expedition to take over. The group is made up of four women: an anthropologist; a surveyor; a psychologist, the de facto leader; and our narrator, a biologist. Their mission is to map the terrain, record all observations of their surroundings and of one another, and, above all, avoid being contaminated by Area X itself. They arrive expecting the unexpected, and Area X delivers—but it’s the surprises that came across the border with them and the secrets the expedition members are keeping from one another that change everything. Why it helped me: Annihilation has grown into my all-time favourite novel upon multiple rereads over the years for many reasons. Chief among them is the feeling of absolute alienation and under-your-skin-dread that Vandermeer captures in his narrative. It may be a coincidence that Area X has so many references and parallels to cancer within it, but to me, that parallel was perfect. Although this book isn’t specifically about cancer at any point, it’s the best representation of the dread and fears I experienced with cancer I’ve ever come across. Annihilation captures a level of deep-rooted discomfort; a defamiliarization of everything that should be safe and normal, of knowing something inside you is wrong, and out to destroy you. It also captures the experience that I personally had and could never express: the experience of returning from that place of horror and having no words to describe, or no people to share it with, as no one else was there with you. Annihilation is a cerebral book and its depiction of trauma is one of the least literal ones on this list. Still, that abstractness is what makes it so perfect to me, and gives it the opportunity to perhaps have the same effect on many people with a variety of experiences. 2. A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness Genre: magical realism, middle-grade Synopsis: Conor has the same dream every night, ever since his mother first fell ill, ever since she started the treatments that don't quite seem to be working. But tonight is different. Tonight, when he wakes, there's a visitor at his window. It's ancient, elemental, a force of nature. And it wants the most dangerous thing of all from Conor. It wants the truth. Patrick Ness takes the final idea of the late, award-winning writer Siobhan Dowd and weaves an extraordinary and heartbreaking tale of mischief, healing and above all, the courage it takes to survive. Why it helped me: This was one of the first novels about the death of a parent I read after my mother’s passing, and the first time I felt so completely seen in that experience. It was also the first time I read something that captures that specific kind of grief I’d been dealing with for years: not the one following a death, but the one preceding an imminent one. The one that comes from seeing a loved-one in decline and the maddening linger of never knowing when the sword will drop. Patrick Ness and Siobhan Dowd did an incredible job of capturing the many ugly, bittersweet and heart wrenching moments of Connor’s journey, and I bawled my eyes out on 4 separate occasions. For the record: that’s the most I’ve ever cried whilst reading a book. These were cathartic cries though: tears of recognition, of remembrance and realization that the thoughts you have during the time leading up to a parents death can be monstrous and loving at the same time. 3. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman Genre: magical realism, coming of age Synopsis: A middle-aged man returns to his childhood home to attend a funeral. Although the house he lived in is long gone, he is drawn to the farm at the end of the road, where, when he was seven, he encountered a most remarkable girl, Lettie Hempstock, and her mother and grandmother. He hasn't thought of Lettie in decades, and yet as he sits by the pond (a pond that she'd claimed was an ocean) behind the ramshackle old farmhouse, the unremembered past comes flooding back. And it is a past too strange, too frightening, too dangerous to have happened to anyone, let alone a small boy. Why it helped me: there’s something darkly magical about the way Gaiman captured the experience of looking back on the warped memories of a traumatic event in childhood, years down the line. The way we make sense of the world as kids is different than we do as adults, and the realizations that come with revisiting the distorted places and memories we created to make sense of the senseless are key themes in this novel. 4. Strange Creatures by Phoebe North Genre: contemporary fiction, coming of age Synopsis: We follow the story of Jamie and Annie, an inseparable pair of siblings; basically twins except for their date of birth. Alike in almost every way, they promised to always take care of each other while facing the challenges of growing up different in suburban America. And when life became too much for them, they’d escape into their own space; a wooeded area just behind their house. They transform this place into the land of Gumlea, where fantasy and reality merge together, and where nobody could find them. Until Jamie disappears, and Annie is left behind… Unable to process any other faith for her brother, Annie becomes convinced that Jamie has escaped into Gumlea one final time, and she will do anything to follow him there, and bring him back. Told from three separate perspectives, we witness the fallout of a tragedy on a family, friends and a small town community; from the harsh reality of growing up, to the stories we tell ourselves to keep going… 5. We Are Okay by Nina LaCour Genre: contemporary fiction, coming of age Synopsis: Marin hasn’t spoken to anyone from her old life since the day she left everything behind. No one knows the truth about those final weeks. Not even her best friend, Mabel. But even thousands of miles away from the California coast, at college in New York, Marin still feels the pull of the life and tragedy she’s tried to outrun. Now, months later, alone in an emptied dorm for winter break, Marin waits. Mabel is coming to visit, and Marin will be forced to face everything that’s been left unsaid and finally confront the loneliness that has made a home in her heart. Why it helped me: In short: this is the most hopeful book about hopelessness, the most connecting book about loneliness and the most uplifting book about sadness I’ve ever read. My experience with this book is described in my Goodreads review, so I’ll refer to that instead of repeating myself. 6. Pet Sematary by Stephen King Genre: horror Synopsis: When the Creeds move into a beautiful old house in rural Maine, it all seems too good to be true: physician father, beautiful wife, charming little daughter, adorable infant son-and now an idyllic home. As a family, they've got it all...right down to the friendly car. But the nearby woods hide a blood-chilling truth-more terrifying than death itself-and hideously more powerful. The Creeds are going to learn that sometimes dead is better. Why it helped me: I’ve read quite a lot of books that romanticize grief and trauma (intentionally or unintentionally), or try to soften its edges. When I think of my time being in the middle of it though, all I can remember is the depth of horror and darkness of it. PetSematary was my first confrontation with grief, mourning and remembrance depicted in all its horrors and ugliness in a novel. Sometimes you may want to confront some of your personal demons in a non-sugar-coated way. Pet Sematary is the way to go, on the topic of grief. 7. A Heart in a Body in the World by Deb Caletti Genre: young adult contemporary Synopsis: When everything has been taken from you, what else is there to do but run? So that’s what Annabelle does—she runs from Seattle to Washington, DC, through mountain passes and suburban landscapes, from long lonely roads to college towns. She’s not ready to think about the why yet, just the how—muscles burning, heart pumping, feet pounding the earth. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t outrun the tragedy from the past year, or the person—The Taker—that haunts her. Followed by Grandpa Ed in his RV and backed by her brother and two friends (her self-appointed publicity team), Annabelle becomes a reluctant activist as people connect her journey to the trauma from her past. Her cross-country run gains media attention and she is cheered on as she crosses state borders, and is even thrown a block party and given gifts. The support would be nice, if Annabelle could escape the guilt and the shame from what happened back home. They say it isn’t her fault, but she can’t feel the truth of that. Why it helped me: A Heart in a Body in the World is the best depiction of PTSD and survivors guilt I’ve ever encountered in a YA-novel. Although our experiences are completely different, the aftermath and the (flawed!!) coping mechanisms that Annabelle falls into mirrored much of my own, to the point where it was often difficult to read this book, yet utterly cathartic to do so. 8. Migrations – Charlotte McConaghy Genre: literary fiction Synopsis: Franny Stone has always been the kind of woman who is able to love but unable to stay. Leaving behind everything but her research gear, she arrives in Greenland with a singular purpose: to follow the last Arctic terns in the world on what might be their final migration to Antarctica. Franny talks her way onto a fishing boat, and she and the crew set sail, traveling ever further from shore and safety. But as Franny’s history begins to unspool—a passionate love affair, an absent family, a devastating crime—it becomes clear that she is chasing more than just the birds. When Franny's dark secrets catch up with her, how much is she willing to risk for one more chance at redemption? Why it helped me: like with We Are Okay, my personal experience with this novel is recorded in my Goodreads review, which can be found here. 9. This Appearing House by Ali Malinenko Genre: middle grade horror Synopsis: For as long as anyone could remember there wasn't a house at the dead end of Juniper Drive… until one day there was. When Jac first sees the House, she's counting down to the five-year anniversary of her cancer diagnosis, when she hopefully will be declared NED, or "no evidence of disease." But with a house appearing, and her hands shaking, and a fall off her bike, Jac is starting to wonder if these are symptoms--or if something stranger is happening. Two classmates dare Jac and her friend Hazel to enter the House. Walking through the front door is the way in. It's definitely not the way out. There's something off about the House; Jac can feel it. The same way she knows it's no coincidence that the House appeared for her five-year marker. It wants something from her. And she won't be able to get out until she figures out what. Why it helped me: Over the years following my own childhood cancer, I’ve only ever encountered two versions of books about that subject: the ones where the kid is cured and lives happily ever after, and the ones where the kid dies so the other characters can have character-growth. My story (the one where the kid lives, but things are never the same and cancer will always be a part of their lives) was never covered, especially not in children’s fiction. Until I read This Appearing House. I deeply wished this book would’ve existed when I was a kid, but happily take it anyway and rejoice in the knowledge that kids who lived, and continue to live, through cancer will now have a middlegrade story to find themselves in. 10. Little Sophie and Lanky Flop by Els Pelgrom Genre: middle grade, magical realism Synopsis: Sophie, a curious child confined to bed by a cancer, is drawn into a mysterious and terrifying play, performed by her toys, that starts to mirror events in her own life. Why it helped me: : I put this one second last on my list, since I haven’t read this book since I was 7 years old and (probably) never plan to reread it again. My love for it is therefore solely based on the time and place I read it in. I was gifted this book when I was 7, going through chemotherapy for cancer. I didn’t know what the book was about or why it was given to me. The slow realization and recognition of the events that were unfolding (specifically the moment of the wind blowing away Sophies hair) are etched in my memory forever. It may sound cruel to give a book like this to a kid going through chemo. Yet I apparently developed a strange fascination with it, reading it over and over again, as if processing my own experience through it. I wanted to see it, to confront it in a way that was tangible and comprehensible, and this book helped me do it. For that, I will forever be grateful to it. 11. Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling Genre: fantasy Synopsis: this one needs no explanation: the journey of the golden trio and the boy who lived exploring and saving the Wizarding World. Why it helped me: it’s a controversial statement to put a book that caused many others trauma on a list of books that helped me deal with trauma. But for the sake of honesty, I couldn’t leave it out. The Harry Potter series helped me in multiple ways, on multiple occasions. From the pure and comforting escapism of diving into this familiar world (either through the books or movies), to the great portrayal of Harry’s journey through grief and trauma; these books supported me in the moments where I felt most alone. Non-Fiction 1. Mans Search for Meaning – Viktor E. Frankl Genre: memoir Triggerwarnings: war-crimes, WWII, anti-semetism 2. The Body Keeps the Score – Bessel Van der Kolk Genre: informational, non-fiction, self-help 3. In the Dream House – Carmen Maria Machado Genre: memoir in verse Triggerwarnings: abusive (same-sex) relationship 4. What my Bones Know – Stephanie Foo Genre: memoir Triggerwarnings: parental abuse (verbal, physical and neclect), cPTSD, borderline personality disorder Adult Fiction 1. In Ascencion – Martin MacInnis Genre: Literary fiction, sci-fi Themes: childhood abuse/negect 2. The Perfect Golden Circle – Benjamin Myers Genre: literary fiction Themes: war trauma, PTSD 3. The Light Through the Leaves – Glendy Vanderah Genre: literary fiction Themes: missing child, divorce 4. My Dark Vanessa – Kate Elizabeth Russell Genre: literary fiction Themes: sexual assault&rape, grooming of a minor 5. Yerba Buena – Nina LaCour Genre: contemporary romance Themes: death of parent, parental abandonment 6. Aquarium – David Vann Genre: literary fiction Themes: child neglect/abuse, parental (mental) illness, physical violence. 7. The Lightkeepers – Abby Geni Genre: literary fiction Themes: sexual assault and rape, physical violence, attempted murder 8. Station Eleven – Emily St. John Mandel Genre: literary fiction, sci-fi, post-apocalyptic Themes: pandemic, various losses of family and friends due to illness 9. How High We Go in the Dark – Sequoia Nagamatsu Genre: literary fiction, sci-fi, post-apocalyptic Themes: pandemic, various represenations of loss of family-members, children and friends due to illness. 10. Piranesi – Suzanna Clarke Genre: magical realism Themes: mental health 11. Dreams of the Dying - Nicolas Lietzau Genre: fantasy Themes: PTSS, wartime-trauma (fantasy setting), loss of sibling, depression, suicide (not on page). Horror 1. Our Wives Under the Sea – Julia Armfield Genre: literary horror, deep sea Themes: change/relationship drifting apart after one partner experiences a traumatic event. 2. Wild Spaces – S.L. Coney Gerne: Young adult, Lovecraftian horror. Themes: parental/domestic abuse. 3. Mapping the Interior – Stephen Graham Jones Genre: horror Themes: death of parent, generational trauma and discrimination, Trigger warnings: animal cruelty, discrimination against native Americans. 4. Looking Glass Sound – Catriona Ward Genre: horror/supernatural thriller Themes: murder, domestic abuse, childhood trauma, paracosm/mythologizing past trauma, substance abuse & alcholism 5. The Hollow Kind – Andy Davidson Genre: horror, Lovecraftian Themes: substance abuse, generational trauma Middle-Grade and Childrens Fiction 1. August Isle – Ali Standish Genre: childrens contemporary Themes: death of friend/family-member, (near) drowning accident 2. Hazel Bly and the Deep Blue Sea – Ashley Herring Blake Genre: childrens-/ YA contemporary Themes: death of parent, death of sibling, (near) drowning accident, anxiety 3. This Appearing House – Ally Malinenko Genre: childrens horror Themes: childhood cancer 4. The Thing About Jellyfish – Ali Benjamin Genre: childrens contemporary Themes: death of friend, (near) drowning accident, STEM-interest 5. Healer of the Water Monster – Brian Young Genre: childrens fantasy Themes: substance abuse, depression, discrimination against Native Americans 6. The Mending Summer – Ali Standish Genre: childrens contemporary Themes: (parental) substance abuse, parental neglect 7. King and the Dragonflies – Kacen Callender Genre: middle grade magical realism Themes: suicide, death of sibling, racism, homophobia, bullying Young Adult Fiction 1. A Heart in a Body in the World – Deb Caletti Genre: YA contemporary Themes: PTSD, gun violence, survivors guilt 2. Me (Moth) – Amber McBride Genre: YA novel in verse Themes: death of parents, (near) fatal car-accident 3. Strange Creatures – Phoebe North Genre: YA contemporary Themes: missing sibling, sexual assault of minor (not on page) 4. The Mirror Season – Anna-Marie McLemore Genre: YA magical realism, romance Themes: sexual assault, homophobia 5. The Hate U Give – Angie Thomas Genre: YA contemporary Themes: racism, police violence against people of colour , gunviolence 6. The Last True Poets of the Sea – Julia Drake Genre: YA contemporary Themes: attempted suicide (brother of protagonist), depression, substance abuse, (near) drowning accident 7. If These Wings Could Fly – Kyrie McKauley Genre: YA contemporary magical realism Themes: domestic violence 8. We Speak in Storms – Natalie Lund Genre: YA contemporary magical realism Themes: sexual assault, disordered eating, parental terminal illness 9. A Constellation of Roses – Miranda Acebedo Genre: YA contemporary magical realism Themes: parental abuse/abandonment, substance abuse 10. We Are The Ants – Shaun David Hutchinson Genre: YA contemporary, sci-fi Themes: depression, suicide, homophobia

Genre: literary fiction, Published: World Editions Publishing, December 2023 My Rating: 2/5 stars On The Isle of Antioch is an ambitious literary fable, taking inspiration and elements from multiple different mythos in its pondering of interpersonal and societal issues. On top, all of that is placed in against a futuristic dystopian background with quite a bit of sci-fi elements… Sound chaotic? Unfortunately, it read that way too… We follow our protagonist Alec, a lawyer turned cartoonist, working from the remote island off the Canadian shore he owns half off. His sole regular contact is his equally solitary neighbor Eve, who owns the other half of the isle, and the ferryman trafficking goods and people from the mainland and back. When one day, a massive power-outage, followed by the second-hand accounts of a societal collapse and imminent nuclear war reach their shores, Eve and Alec are forced to rely on each other, not only to survive, but to solve the mystery of a secretive society inspired by Ancient Greek philosophies that claims to have a hand in recent events. I’m all in favour of clever novels that dare to take a risk, and mix-and-match elements we don’t usually see together. Unfortunately the risk that Amin Maalouf took here, didn’t quite pay off for me. With its incredibly wide spectrum of influences, references, genres and themes it attempts to address, the sum of these parts feels incoherent and mismatched. A scope this wide in a novel this short, leads to an exploration of each individual topic that feels too surface level to be of use. With a name like Maaloufs attached to it, I can see this novel finding a small but strong fanbase in the “higher literary circles”, praising the deeper connections between references that obviously flew over my head. I can see some of these connections, digging into my own interest in Greek mythology and looking into the authors professional background, yet still they are a reach if you ask me. That being said, I’m growing increasingly impatient of “smart” literary novels that require a PhD in its source mythology, or a vast pre-existing knowledge of its subject matter. It’s not a sign of a “clever” novel to me, but a failure of writing a text that can exist as its own thing, without relying on elitist pre-existing knowledge from the reader. To stay on theme with the Greek references: this book was Icarus. Taking on too many separate things in its ambition, flying too high and eventually nosediving with a disappointing splash into the Atlantic Ocean for its own coasts… Many thanks to World Editions Publishing for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Middle Grade, Novel in Verse Published: Holiday House Books, November 2023 My Rating: 5/5 stars A fabulous and heartfelt novel in verse about a young girl navigating the changes in her life and family, following her mother’s brush with death and recovery from a brain aneurysm. "Lighthouses warn ships away from rocks, away from danger in a storm. Their beacons shine through thick fog and light up the darkness. I love the meaning. Light equals hope, the hope that Mom could live." Synopsis: Claire's mom and dad don't talk to each other much anymore. And they definitely don't laugh or dance the way they used to. Their tense, stilted stand offs leave thirteen-year-old Claire, an only child, caught in the middle. So when the family takes their annual summer vacation, Claire sticks her nose in a book and hopes for the best. Maybe the sunshine and ocean breeze will fix what's gone wrong. But while the family is away, Claire's mother has a ruptured brain aneurysm--right after she reveals a huge secret to Claire. Though she survives the rupture, it seems like she is an entirely different person. Claire has no idea if her mom meant what she said, or if she even remembers saying it. With the weight of her mom's confession on her shoulders, Claire must navigate fear, grief, and prospects for recovery. What I loved: It’s always incredibly powerful for me to see medically accurate and relatable representation for (chronic) illness and disability in children’s fiction. As a girl who grew up in the generation where those were topics not talked about in children’s books, as “kids wouldn’t understand anyways”, I desperately missed it, as it was such an important part of my real life. Ruptured is a perfect example of the kind of representation of parental illness I would’ve loved to see. It’s heartfelt, accessible, not melodramatic, but doesn’t shy away from the “difficult” parts of coping with a sick parent either. It’s beautiful prose strikes a great balance of emotion, covering fear and sorrow, but also those highlights of joy, love and deep connection. Claire herself encounters that same search for recognition and representation in books on page. Here she states another gap within the genre: “I need a book about a mother who survives” “Sicklit”, especially catered to kids or teens, tends to end either one of two ways: a full recovery, or a heroic death. There’s no room for the more realistic version of events: the chronic state, the long recovery, the ups and downs, and the change it brings to your life no matter what. Ruptured covers that piece well, a little in the line of This Appearing House, although from a different perspective. Considering that was one of my favourite reads of last year, that’s comparison is a huge compliment. I highly recommend this book to readers aged about 11 and up. Yes, grown-ups/parents who are interested in the topic: that includes you. This comes with a stamp of approval from both the medical accuracy side, as well as the personal one. Many thanks to Holiday House Publishing for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Poetry Published: Bloodaxe Books, September 2023 My Rating: 5/5 stars, potential new all-time favourite "The hospital is not a place for bodies…" It’s been a long time since I’ve last reviewed a poetry collection, because I frankly I’m not all that good at it. For this one though, I’m making an exception, as it’s one of my favourite things I’ve read this year, so it wouldn’t feel right to stay completely quiet about that. Reviewing poetry, in many ways, is more like reviewing music than it is reviewing fiction. It’s so hard to explain why something works or doesn’t work for you. The words either hit the note, or they don’t. They strike the chord you wanted them to, or they don’t. For me, Please Do Not Touch This Exhibit was a composition that resonated on so many levels. From its major chords; its sense of playful wonder, and its allusions to the sea and mythology. To its minor ones; the deep reverberating themes of disability, and its effects on growing from a girl to a woman (to a mother); from which I felt the hum of recognition in my bones. I’ve been a fan of Jen Campbel for years now, exactly because of the way she covers these themes, within her own writing but also her content of Youtube. In that strange parasocial way that authors (and nowadays, online content creators) can, she’s had a big impact on my own journey towards coping with my own (childhood-) illness and subsequent disability. This collection feels like some of her most personal work, and is my favourite to date. It juggles illness, (dis-)ability and agency of body through girlhood into womanhood. It covers childlike wonder, childhood trauma, complex longing and a desperate plea at the doors of the Kingdom of Motherhood. I want to recommend this collection to everyone, but can’t help feeling it would be a bit like recommending my favourite song to someone else. They may enjoy the beat, the melody, or the lyrics, but they won’t share the same connection to it that I felt, because they didn’t share “that specific experience when I first heard it, that made it special to me.” Then again, it just might… If you liked Jen’s previous work, or the likes of Kirsty Logan, Polly Atkin, Sinéad Gleeson, Rebekah Taussig (I’m probably forgetting a million more): this might be of a similar tune. On a final, possibly slightly spoilery note; when I first heard the title, I didn’t understand or like it. Then, after reading the freakshow-poems and landing on the titular one, I felt a literal lump in my throat when I grasped its significance. As a fellow “child of the freak-show”, gosh darn, there’s a plea I made a number of times… Stand-out poems: The Hospital is Not My House, When I Revisit This Room I Want to Leave Again, The Trees Are Part of the Process, Alopecia, Common Side Effects, The Hospital is Not Big Enough for Two of Us (darn that final one got me good). You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Gothic horror Published: Mulholland Books, October 3rd 2023 My Rating: 4.5/5 stars “Do you know why certain houses make people feel uneasy?” Nisa rolled her eyes and cut in. “because they’re obviously haunted!” “No. It’s because we can’t tell whether they’re actually a threat. I heard it on a podcast. If you were to open the door to Hill House and see a dead body or a collapsed ceiling, you’d refuse to enter. But nothing here is obviously wrong. It’s just all slightly wrong. Which makes it harder to know for us if it’s safe.” Any modern author attempting a take on/tribute to a well-beloved classic is bound to kick up some dust, for better or worse. When I, a huge Shirley Jackson-fan, heard there was an officially licensed by the Jackson-trust-fund tribute novel to my all-time favourite classic Hill House on the way, I was equal parts excited and skeptical. Inviting any comparisons to a classic, for with my love has grown over years and multiple rereads, is a surefire way to set a book up for disappointment, so I tried to temper expectations. I’m so happy to say; this was a homage that does the original justice. Eerie, haunting, gothic, and enough of its own thing that it doesn’t completely sink away in the large tracks of its predecessor. Thematically and emotionally, it doesn’t have the same deep-rooted effect on me like The Haunting of Hill House had, but it still managed to bring out some of the same vibes and made for a completely immersive and unsettling read. Years after the original events of Hill House, completely new cast of characters returns to the iconic mansion. This time, it’s not a scholarly interest in the paranormal that connects them, but a stage play about a witching trial they’re developing together. Playwright Holly Sherwin been a struggling for a breakthrough for years, but now, after receiving a grant to develop her play, The Witch of Edmonton, she may finally be close to her big break. All she needs is time and space to bring her vision to life. When she stumbles across Hill House on a weekend getaway upstate, she is immediately taken in by the ornate, if crumbling, gothic mansion. Joined by her girlfriend/leadsinger and composer Nisa, and a small cast of actors to play the leads, she takes up residence between the walls of Hill House. As tensions rise amongst these artists, getting immersed deeper and deeper into their roles, strange events unfold around the premises. As it turns out, Hill House reputation for madness and tragedy is more warranted than they anticipated… As mentioned: I liked the choice of taking on different themes and a different flavour of madness, rather than rehashing the same ones the originally already did perfectly. Shirley Jacksons stay at Hill House was an introverted one, coloured by melancholy, obsession and isolation. Elizabeth Hand’s madness is more theatrical one, more extroverted and driven by ambition. It’s the mania to Jacksons depression, so to speak. That contrast sets it apart enough to stand on its own, whilst Hill House as the catalyst still justifies its connection. To me, this is the best way to do a tribute to a masterpiece: honoring its spirit, but respecting its territory. Elizabeth Hand feels to have recognized that the original didn’t need improving or adding to. The Haunting of Hill House is strong enough to walk the halls of its own universe alone. Yet for those who want to experience it, there’s now a new ghost to uncover in there too… Note with regards to the formatting: I personally combined reading the physical copy with listening to the Hachette Audio and recommend both. The audiobook’s narration is superb and audio-effects and excellent voice work really bring the story to life. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Short stories, Literary horror Published: Atlantic Grove Press, October 24t 2023 My Rating: 2.5/5 stars With a seasoned name like Jeanette Winterson attached to it, I have to admit I went into this collection with high expectations. Winterson’s beautiful prose and keen eye for detail, combined with a take on one of my favourite tropes (literary ghost-stories!) was bound to be a hit. Unfortunately, this didn’t quite live up to my self-imposed hype. A scatter-brained introduction set the tone for what felt like somewhat of an inconsistent collection that lacked coherence beyond the theme of “ghosts”. The collection opens with an opening word, in which Winterson explains her inspiration for this collection, and mentions many classics of the genre, without going into depth on any of it. To me, the introduction read like a first draft, namedropping some of its influences as if to make sure the reader will pick up on the references later, without adding any real new insight to them. What follows are 13 ghoststories (in the loose sense of the word), clustered into 4 categories. Devices features Black-Mirror-esque stories about “ghosts in the machine” and the way technology has changed the meaning in which we can interact with a person after their passing. In Places, we visit the classic Haunted Houses and locations harbouring memories and restless souls, whereas in People it’s the people inside the walls carrying their hauntings, rather than the walls themselves. Finally inVisitations we follow journeys to significant places and events, mostly from the authors own life, where she came close to “haunting” encounters. In between each section, there’s another personal essay or anecdote from Winterson life, the addition of which I probably liked the most. My biggest problem is that, outside these personal anecdotes, everything about this collection felt very familiar and “done before”. The many references to classics only emphasized that there was nothing new to be gained here for veterans of the gerne. I also missed the strong narrative voice that carried Winterson’s previous novels for me. The two most memorable stories of the collection for me were No Ghost Ghost Story and The Undiscovered Country. Otherwise, this felt very middle-of-the-road. For a debut author, this would’ve been a promising start, but for a literary veteran like Winterson, I have to say that it was less than I expected. Many thanks to Netgalley and Altantic Grove for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Horror Published: Flame Tree Press, October 2023 My Rating: 3/5 stars "Death is the one thing secret keepers can't plan for, or at least, most of them don't. Maybe like many of us they feel immortal until they're not. Or maybe since they now they won't be there to face the consequences, they don't bother to put the effort in." A young mother finds herself tangled in a web of grief and supernatural mysteries in this detective-horror-hybrid novel by Laurel Hightower. After the loss of her husband under mysterious circumstances, former Detective Cam Ambrose learns how little she truly knew him. Reeling with the grief of her loss and the realization that the man she loved was a stranger, she must learn how to keep her young daughter safe from a world of the supernatural she never knew existed. With the help of her best friend Dimi and reclusive neighbor Eric Morgan, she sets out to solve a decades-old mystery entangling the machinations of an obsessed killer, her husband’s mistress, and a series of deadly hauntings. I had admittedly high expectations for this novel based off the author’s previous work. Last year, I read Crossroads by her, a novella that blew me away with its visceral depiction of a mothers grief over her son, and the desperate lengths she would go through to be reunited with him against all costs. It’s one of the best examples of “the true horror of grief” captured on page in a novel, and for me stands toe-to-toe with the likes of Pet Sematary. I was hoping to find that same level of emotional connection and depth of character in Cam, especially since she gets quite a bit more page-time for development than her novella-counterpart in Crossroads. Unfortunately, I never clicked- or became truly invested in Cam. Where Crossroads felt like a more intimate character-piece, Silent Key focusses more on the plot and mystery, which for me took away from the authors true strength. The mystery itself was intriguing enough to keep me going, but due to the more detached and distant writing-style, I was never completely immersed or invested. A minor gripe that bothered me more than I’d like to admit has to do with the books cover. The combination of the cover, title and some of the marketing (comparisons to The Deep!) had me believe this would have a strong element of underwater-horror. Through my reading-experience I kept excitedly waiting for it to show up and was disappointed to see it only happening in the very final chapters. Literally around the 90% mark is when the cover-scene becomes relevant. If, like me, the underwater-horror-element was a big selling point for you: know it only comes into play at the very end. Many thanks to Flame Tree Press for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. Silent Key is set for release on October 10th. You can find it here on Goodreads.

Genre: fantasy Published: DAW books, November 2023 Marketed as: "latest entry in The Kingkiller Chronicles series", #2.6 As a general rule, i do not review books I haven’t personally read, except for when very problematic stuff is happening. This feels a bit like that, from a marketing perspective. For years I’ve been a supporter of Patrick Rothfuss and his works. I’ve been in the camp of “let the man take his time with The Doors of Stone”. Unless you’ve already paid for it in advance somehow, no author owes his audience a book. That freedom comes at a price, though. As an author, you do not get to tease, make false promises, and lead your audience on for years, whilst profiting of them. That is what’s happening here. I’m not sure if this is Rothfuss’ doing, or purely a marketing/publishers choice, but it feels a little predatory. Despite what the deliberately ambiguous marketing leading up to this release might have you believe, The Narrow Road Between Desires is not the new entry into the series that was promised. It’s a rerelease of The Lightning Tree, slightly edited and with additional illustration to bump the page-count. I like The Lightning Tree… I don’t like false promises, especially when money has changed hands, regardless of charity-causes etc. I don’t like publishers rereleasing content at a marketed up price over and over again. And I don’t like relying on a loyal fanbase to excuse the aforementioned discretions. Pat, with all the respect and understanding for your process and struggles, from a former fan; this has become an honesty-thing. Either continue to work on something new for as long as you need, and keep quiet about it (people will be plenty excited once you do announce a releasedate for The Doors of Stone, trust me!). Or admit that you’re done writing, and it is never coming. Either is fine by me. What’s not fine is lying, making misleading claims, or promises you know you won’t be able to keep.

August has come to an end and with that, so has the second part of the Orilium Readathon. I managed to complete every prompt I set out to do, and have thereby completed my second year of both the Herbologist and Alchemist career. That being said; it was a bit of a ride this year… My reading month started out great and I took a chunk out of my TBR in just the first week alone. Then some health-issues threw a big wrench in my wheels, and almost put me in a slump that I’m currently still feeling. By the end of the month though, 16 books got read and rated, and I’m here to quickly talk about them. 1. The Surviving Sky by Kritika Rao Prompt completed: Alchemy O, the first book in a series Rating: 4/5 stars My thoughts: The Surviving Sky is the start of promising new fantasy series, inspired by Hindu mythology and philosophy that I really enjoyed. Despite some issues typical of a debut, this had a lot of promise to grow into a fantastic series and I’m excited for the sequels. Full review can be found here. 2. Assassin of Reality by Marina and Sergej Dyachenko Prompt completed: Alchemy Q, the second book in a series Rating: 3.5/5 stars My thoughts: This was my biggest disappointment of the month by a long stretch. Assassin of Reality is the sequel to one of my all-time favourite novels Vita Nostra, in which we follow Sasha Samokhina during her first years at a mysterious, sinister, magical(?) university. This book is its direct sequel, and as such I had high expectations. Unfortunately, it didn’t live up to those. full review can be found here. 3. Acceptance by Jeff Vandermeer Prompt completed: Alchemy D, the final book in a series Rating: 5/5 stars My thoughts: We don’t need to spent too much time on this book: Annihilation is my favourite book of all time, and keeps cementing that position firmer in my mind the more I reread this series. When it comes to this series as a whole, I don’t love Acceptance and Authority as much as I do Annihilation, but they’re still absolute masterpieces that blend the genre-line of literary sci-fi and cosmic horror. This was my third reread of the entire trilogy, and even now, I keep finding new elements to haunt my brain. It’s a divisive series for sure, but to me it’s absolutely phenomenal. 4. Wild Spaces by S.L. Coney Prompt completed: Animal Studies O, a pet pick Rating: 5/5 stars My thoughts: a short but incredibly impactful coming of age horror story about a boy, a dog and a monster within the family. Not only an underrated gem, but one of the most beautiful things I read this month. I highly recommend this one to fans of Laurel Hightower, or Neil Gaimans The Ocean at the End of the Lane. full review can be found here. 5. Summer Fishing in Lapland by Juhani Karila Prompt completed: Astronomy O, a title related to a song you listened to recently Rating: 4.5/5 stars My thoughts: a quirky, Finnish magical realism tale about a young woman’s hunt for an elusive pike, plagued by strange characters both human and folkloric alike. This book has been on my radar for a while, but I’ve been on the fence to pick it up. Its recent translation into the English pushed me over the edge. It’s a strange and quite whimsical book that might not be everybody’s cup of tea, but I still really enjoyed my time with it. My full review can be found here. 6. A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher Prompt completed: Inscription O, a book from your end-of-year TBR Rating: 4/5 stars My thoughts: When I read the synopsis (Kingfisher’s take on the haunted house trope), I knew I would like this novel. I just wasn’t sure how much exactly. In the end, I liked but didn’t love this tale of a daughters return home to temporarily move in with her estranged mother. Everything I love about Kingfisher writing was there, including the humor, great characters and fantastic atmosphere. Unfortunately the thing that I don’t enjoy about her work (particularly her weak endings) were present as well. My full review can be found here. 7. Fires of the Dead by Jed Herne Prompt completed: Inscription Q, shield on the cover Rating: 3/5 stars My thoughts: I’m a bit bummed that I didn’t get to read my original pick (Abeni’s Song), as it wasn’t available in my region yet. Instead I went with my second pick; a short novella by Jed Herne, who I mostly know from his Youtube-presence where he talks about his writing process. I liked this story, but didn’t find it particularly memorable. It’s been less than a month since I read it, and already details are starting to blur in my mind. I remember enjoying the fast-paced plot and the twist at the end, but couldn’t tell you the name of any main characters (or much about their personality for that matter). For a character-driven reader like myself, that’s a big deal. 8. The Wise and the Wicked by Rebecca Podos Prompt completed: Inscription D, a non-debut Rating: 3.5/5 stars My thoughts: This one left me feeling conflicted. I know Podos is capable of great writing about certain topics. Her book Like Water, where she portrays care of a disabled parent and the complex uncertainties of a genetic illness in the family, is one of my favourites. In The Wise and the Wicked it isn’t a genetic illness but a family curse, yet many of the strengths that speak from Podos’ experiences come through all the same. The family dynamics and the strain of the (genetic) premonition that a family curse puts on those were phenomenal. I wish these things were more represented in YA, and having the curse stand-in for actual illness makes the topic more approachable and less heavy. Unfortunately pacing isn’t Rebecca’s strong suit, and the book meandered far too much between the 60 and 90% mark. The messy execution really stands in the way of the good parts, and might even prevent some readers form reaching the (otherwise impactful) ending. 9. Things we Lost in the Fire by Mariana Enriquez Prompt completed: Spells & Incantations O, a short-story collection Rating: 3/5 stars My thoughts: This is one of those books where I feel like I need to “explain”’ my rating. Objectively, this probably deserves more than a 2.5, but subjectively I didn’t enjoy my experience. Thing We Lost in the Fire is a short-story collection set in the disadvantaged parts of Buenos Aires, Argentina and covers a lot of real-life-horrific topics. Violence in many forms is present on these pages (including against children) and I found some stories hard to read and downright depressing. I deliberately use the word “depressing” rather than saddening, because the narrative tone felt distant and almost apathetic to the blight of these characters to me. In addition, many of the stories have a slight “open ending”, where we leave a character in an unresolved situation, never knowing how or if they make it out of that. Although that’s most likely deliberate and realistic, It kept me from fully connecting and feeling their emotions with them. Instead I just felt a little hopeless and bleak about it all. This is probably a me-thing, and with all the glowing reviews this collection has gotten, I don’t want to steer anyone who’s interested in reading it away from it. 10. Swim Home to the Vanished by Brendan Shay Basham Prompt completed: Spells & Incantations Q, a black cover Rating: 4/5 stars My thoughts: This was my final and most challenging read of the month. Due to the health- circumstances that interfered with my reading experience, I didn’t feel I fully grasped this novel the first time around, and I actually went back in to reread a large chunk of it. I’m glad I did, because the second turn gave me a greater appreciation of this Navajo-inspired magical realist tale of grief and the transformation that loss can put a person through. My full review can be found here. 11. Chlorine by Jade Song Prompt completed: Demonology O, a book you saw on someone else’s socials Rating: 4.5/5 stars My thoughts: dark, gory and disturbing enough to live up to the reputation of the original mermaid mythology it was based on. Chlorine tells a tale of obsession, bodies, and coming of age, following an Asian American competitive swimmer who’s life revolves around the pool and her swimteam. Pushed to their limits every day, these women develop a strange, borderline-delusional microcosm amongst themselves, driven by the urge to be better, faster, stronger in the water. As obsession and delusion take over, our protagonist convinces herself that the only way to improve and “become her true self”, she must commit to the water forever, and become a mermaid. This is an unforgettable tale that got its claws in me and didn’t let go. Many great reviews have been written and recorded about this book, including the one by Kayla at BooksandLala that originally inspired me to put this on my TBR, so I highly recommend you check those out! 12. Oh God, The Sun Goes by David Connor Prompt completed: Lore O, a booksellers recommendation Rating: 2.5/5 stars My thoughts: I opened my review of this book with the following question: Have you ever read a book that’s so marmite, that you’re not even sure whether you liked it yourself, let alone how to recommend it to others? That still is exactly how I feel about Oh God, The Sun Goes. I really recommend you read my full review, which can be found here, to get a better idea whether this book would be your cup of tea, as it really is just… strange. In the end, I rounded my 2.5 star Goodreads rating down, rather than up, as the longer I sat with this book, the more annoyed I felt with its over-writtenness and propensity to take itself far too serious. 13. Sudden Traveler by Sarah Hall Prompt completed: Lore Q, a piece of clothing on the cover Rating: 3/5 stars My thoughts: Sudden Traveler was a mixed bag of a collection that does have Sarah Halls signature style throughout all of it. They are literary fiction stories, sometimes with a bit too much emphasis on the “literary” part. Although some stories, like the titular one, were brilliant, others felt distinctly overwritten. 14. The Seep by Chandra Porter Prompt completed: Restoration O, read a book before bed Rating: 3/5 stars My thoughts: The Seep was… strange. We follow a trans woman whose life is irreversibly altered in the wake of a gentle—but nonetheless world-changing—invasion by an alien entity calling itself The Seep. Throughout this short novel, we explore the intersection of these strange alien effects, and real-world factors that make our protagonist feel “alienated”, such as her trans-ness. I felt this book had so many great concepts and potential for interesting conversations, but I was ultimately left wanting more than I got. With its 200 pages, it fell in that gray area between novel and novella. I would’ve either liked more depth and development to justify a novel-length, or a tighter trimming to make a fantastic novella. 15. Pearl by Sian Hughes Prompt completed: Restoration Q, read a book in a different place every time you pick it up Rating: 4/5 stars My thoughts: I could probably write a completely separate post on my thoughts on this year’s picks for the Booker-prize longlist, but Pearl was one of the more intriguing books that showed up on it. I had never even heard of this title before it was nominated, but I decided to give it a try. It turned out to be one of my favourites of the nominees I’ve read. Although there are stylistic choices that I really didn’t enjoy (mainly the choice to start each chapter with quoting a nursery rhyme), it was an emotionally resonant tale that accomplished a lot in few pages. With its strong sense of place (both geographically with its portrayal of rural England, as well as its place in the literary canon) and poignant character observations, this truly feels like it belongs on a literary-prize-list. Something I couldn’t say for some other nominations… 16. Mapping the Interior by Stephen Graham Jones Prompt completed: Restoration D, a title that starts with M (chosen by random letter generator) Rating: 5/5 stars My thoughts: My final, and possibly favourite read of the month is one I plan to review in depth, but haven’t gotten around to yet. Mapping the Interior is a novella by Stephen Graham Jones that opens with a teenage boy, walking through his own house at night when he spots a familiar figure in the doorway. Instead of the people who could be there, his mother or his brother, the figure reminds him of his long-gone father, who died mysteriously before his family left the reservation. When he follows it he discovers his house is bigger and deeper than he knew. This was heartbreaking, terrifying and above all incredibly layered. Full review is in the making, but I might want to (happily!) reread this once more before I commit to it. Many thanks again to G from Bookroast for creating and hosting this readathon. Be sure to show her some love via her channel, and I hope to be able to participate in this readathon for years to come.

Genre: Magical Realism Published: Harper Collins, August 2023 My rating: 4.5/5 stars "When you lose someone close, you travel to the place of the dead. You enter the river, you swim in it, it takes you out to the sea. The fish seem to know." It’s no secret that the sub-genre of books about grief, explored through a magical-realism lens has produced some of my personal favourite reading experiences ever. For that reason alone, Swim Home to the Vanished was one of my most anticipated releases of the year, that I picked up immediately upon release. This story with strong roots in Native American lore (specifically creation mythology), proved one of the more challenging, but simultaneously fascinating reads of my year so far. A story that I deeply resonated with at times, was left completely puzzled by at others, and am still not sure if I fully grasped the depth of its significance by the end. Our story opens with Damien contemplating the right words to speak a eulogy for his brother. When Kai went into the river that faithful day, he didn’t so much die as vanish from Damiens life. With this loss heavy in his bones, Damien feels an outcast in his old life and decides to walk away from it all. After a long walk (note the significance) through the desert, he finds himself in a remote fishing village, hoping to escape his grief. He soon discovers his journey has only brought him deeper into the land of the grieving… As he’s taken in by a family of Pescadores, he soon discovers that each of the villages inhabitants carries their own grief, and is slowly being transformed by it. The more he learns about the loss this village has recently suffered, the more he is ensnared in a net of familial bonds and trauma, that threaten to drag him into the very depths that claimed his brother. Basham is nothing if not ambitious with this multi-layered debut novel. Almost every small event in this book has a parallel in Native American mythology. From the Long Walk-like journey Damien embarks on, to the animal(spirits) the grieving characters take a liking to, to various water-connections throughout. This layering is both the novels greatest selling point, as at times its downfall. Whenever it hits, it really hits, but at other times the various element don’t fully come together and make the narrative very disjointed. It’s a challenging novel that requires some effort from the reader. In my case, that included having to look up some of the source-myths to understand the deeper connections and references made. It’s for that reason that I say that I might still not completely grasp the depth of this book, and might never as I’m not a part of the culture. That being said, Swim Home to the Vanished is so deeply intriguing and resonant on a human-level, that I was happy to dig deeper into the sources. That to me, is the sign of a fantastic novel with incredible cultural representation: the burden of informing myself was on me as the “outsider”, but I felt invited and welcome to do so, based off the shared and very human experience of grief. From a technical point, apart from the sometimes disjointed structure, Basham’s debut is a feat as well. His writing is lyrical, poetic and resonant, but his characters interact and speak like believable humans. The novel has a strong sense of place, thanks to the environmental descriptions and vivid descriptions of the local food and smells (all of which have significance to the story). The use of magical realism is far from subtle, as each of the characters make a literal transformation towards animal characteristics, as a result of their grief. Yet in the context of the story and its mythological roots, the choice of each of these animals forms a perfect fit, and links the multiple layers of the story. For full disclosure, I feel the need to add that this review was based off me reading the book 2x back to back, under very specific circumstances. Recent events in my personal life dragged up a grief that has settled deep within my bones, and made it so I didn’t fully appreciate my first read. Going back in, it intensified my immersion and positive feelings towards it, and made it into one of the more memorable reading experiences of this year. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: magical realism Published: Pushkin Press, July 2023 My Rating: 4.5/5 stars Summer Fishing in Lapland has been out for a few years in its original Finnish and (my native) Dutch translation, and has been on my radar ever since. The recent popularity boost that came with its translation into English finally pushed me to pick it up though. What I found was a unique and charming tale that almost defies placement into a standard literary category. We have fantastical elements of Scandinavian folklore (which I'm always a sucker for), a lively literary portrait of a remote Lapland-village, and a memorable cast of gruff but lovable villagers, bonding together to help one of their own break a curse, related to a pike in a pond... Add to that a narrative tone that is almost matter-of-fact and business like about all the insanity that goes down with this tale, and you get a book like few I’ve read before. Somehow, these elements come together as a whole to create an engaging and surprisingly funny read. We follow Elina, a young woman who returns to her small home-town to fulfill the peculiar yearly tradition she’s abided by; a fishing-trip in which she has exactly three days to catch the pike that inhabits the local pond. This isn’t a leisurely trip however; following the words of a curse that was placed on her, if she fails to complete this task, both she and the love of her life will die. After a few successful years of catching the pike, this year’s journey is complicated by the appearance of some interesting characters in and around the village. From a murder-detective who sees her as a suspect in an open case, to the supernatural trickster creatures form Nordic Folklore that enjoy meddling in her plans. This book feels very northern-European to me, so I’m curious as to how it will do overseas with people who might be less familiar with the mythology behind it. I’m really hoping it finds it audience, as it's a memorable, humorous, slightly bizarre read that I had a great time with all together. Recommended for fans of magical realism works of the likes of Neil Gaiman or maybe Yann Martel. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Middle-grade horror/mystery Published: Delacorte Press, August 2023 My Rating: 4/5 stars Wendy Parris’ debut middle-grade novel is marketed as a horror, but in my opinion, fits better within the spooky-mystery genre. 12-year old Rebecca has inherited a fascination with ghosts and the supernatural from her late father. With her handbook of Heart-Stopping Heartland Hauntings by her side, she would love the opportunity to experience a ghostly encounter for herself. As long as it isn’t too spooky though. When she and her mother go to spend the summer with Rebecca’s aunt in her father’s parental farmhouse, she just might get that chance. Rebecca soon recognizes the tell-tale signs of a haunting around the farm and, despite her mother's protests, decides to investigate. When a note from her late father, tucked away inside a comic book suggests he might have encountered the same ghostly presence when he was Rebecca’s age, the search becomes a more personal one than she anticipated. Field of Screams offers a great middle-grade adventure that touches on topics like grief, friendship and moving on whilst honouring your past. There’s a great strength in children’s books, that manage to provide an enjoyable reading-experience ánd open the door for further talks about these big subjects. Parris hits that balance well. Rebecca is a wonderful and relatable protagonist, and I her interaction with family and friends were where the book shined brightest for me. I especially loved her mixed feeling about Kelsey, moms new boyfriend’s daughter. Let me tell you, 13-year old me has been there, and would’ve felt very validated to see this portrayal. The same can be said for the relationship between Rebecca and her mom. They don’t always see eye-to-eye (especially when it comes to the paranormal!), but their love for each other, and the shared grief over dad shines of the page. A particular conversation between them really struck me personally; beware of slight spoilers ahead. Rebecca’s mom shows a strong dislike towards her daughter’s interest in ghosts throughout the story. It’s only near the end when she reveals the reason why. She used to share this fascinating with ghosts and hauntings and bonded over it with Rebecca’s dad. After his passing, she hoped his ghost would send her a sign, and when that sign didn’t come, it was a second grief she wanted to spare Rebecca from. This resonated with some of my own experiences with family members and was one of the strongest moments of the book for me. My one piece of critique would be towards the marketing team: this truly is more of a mystery story than a horror, and works far better in that category. The lack of actual spooky moments makes me fear that kids looking for those will come away disappointed. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: fantasy/sci-fi Published: Titan Books, June 2023 My Rating: 4/5 stars I added The Surviving Sky to my list of most anticipated 2023-releases based off nothing but the description alone, and I'm so happy it lived up to that promise. In this science-fantasy future, devastating perpetuals storms known as Earth Rages have rendered the surface an uninhabitable jungle. The remnants of humanity have taken up residence in the sky, in floating cities built out of plants, arcane magic and the sorcery that keeps them bound together. The people in control of this magic, and therefore the structure of the entire city, are known as architects, and revered by all. Charismatic, powerful, mystical, Iravan is one such architect. In his city, his word is nearly law, and his abilities are closely tied to his identity. Yet to Ahilya, his wife not born with this magical gift, they are a way for survival to be reliant on the privileged few. She is an archeologist, interested in studying the lives of generations of people before them: those able to survive without magic and in harmony with the Earth below. With their marriage already on the rocks, a series of mystical events around the city forces the two to question their loyalties towards their personal values vs. each other. What I loved: The wonderfully imaginative world that Rao has created already ticked so many of my boxes on paper: a floating city in the sky, plant-based/botanical-magic, the conflict between “the old-ways” and futuristic/progressive science, and the elements of a mythology that I’m not already intimately familiar with (in this case Hindu-mythology and philosophy). Add to that a storyline that focusses on an already established adult couple having to manage their shared history and conflicts, and you have all the ingredients for a winner for me. The world of The Surviving Sky supports its story, which is essential in a good fantasy-novel. The magic system and setting aren’t just cool window dressing, but lead organically into interesting conversations on the novels deeper themes of identity, class, consciousness and more. The two protagonists and their rocky relationship are probably going to divide readers a bit, but personally, I thought their dynamic was an interesting one to follow. Yes, both are very flawed and at times unlikable characters and yes, their relationship can’t be called healthy. Then again, with the heavy focus on romance in fantasy, we don’t get to follow already established and multifaceted relationships nearly enough. I really applaud Rao for taking that risk and showing us something unique. What I didn’t love: There are some issues, typical of a debut, that kept The Surviving Sky away from its full 5-star potential. Pacing could've been optimized, especially near the midpoint where some of the conflicts began to repeat themselves. Additionally, it was a little heavy on the exposition-through-dialogue when it came to worldbuilding. If you’re familiar with the concept of “butler-dialogue” (one character explaining something about the world to another character, that they should already know, just for the benefit of the audience), Rao employs a very specific variant of that quite often. I might just have been hyperfocussing on it, but there was a trend of arguments and conflict being used as a vessel for exposition. Character would fight amongst eachother and shout worldbuilding information mid-argument. Whilst I appreciate the attempt to incorporate worldbuilding within character-conflict, this felt extremely clunky and unrealistic, and I hope that Rao will find different ways to do this in book 2. That being said, I had a blast with this novel, can’t stop thinking about this world, and I can’t wait to continue on with this series once the sequel arrives. Highly recommended! You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Fantasy Published: Harper Voyager 2023, originally published by Эксмо in 2021 in the original Russian. My Rating: 3.5/5 stars “How does one formulate the order “Do not be afraid” without the negative particle “not”? “Be brave,” Sasha whispered.” I’m slightly devastated, but I can’t say that I’m surprised... Considering the type of book Vita Nostra is, and the type of reader I am, there was a decent risk of a sequel not living up to the love I felt for the first book. Regardless, curiosity beat trepidation in the end and I picked this book up. I don’t regret doing so. I had a good time with Assassin of Reality, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the raging fire that is Vita Nostra. Reviewing a sequel without completely spoiling the first book is often a challenge, but especially so with a book that introduces so many reality- and mindbending concepts as Vita Nostra, on which Assassin of Reality builds on. In Vita Nostra, we follow then 16-year old Sasha Samokhina, as she enrolls in a mysterious, possibly arcane university, not quite by choice of her own. What follows is part magic-school-fantasy, part unsettling dark-academia, part bildungsroman and part exercise in philosophy, following Sasha’s first three years at the Institute of Special Technologies. And it’s absolutely brilliant! Assassin of Reality picks up exactly where Vita Nostra left off: following Sasha from her final third-year exam through her 4th year at The Institute. Expectedly, it’s more of the same that we’ve already seen: more metaphysical shenanigans, more student-teacher-rivalry, and more discussion around language in a deeper exploration of the magic-system. There is even a new element of romantic love, that feels somewhat fresh. What is missing, however, is what made the first book exceptional. Again, without spoiling it entirely, in Vita Nostra , Sasha works towards an important metamorphosis in her third year. Her development along that journey was the best part of the novel for me. Sasha grows from a student, feeling out of place in this academic adult world that feels almost alien to her (very relatable to many young academics!), to a capable adult. That strong character-arc is absent in Assassin of Reality. Even more so: some elements of her character-arc are undone by the events at the start of this book, which I really didn’t like as a plot-choice. Details below the spoilertag at the bottom. Another strength of book 1 that was missing here, was that sense of mystery and “insecurity”; of not being able to fully get your footing in this strange world. With the deeper exploration of the magic system, it loses that feeling, as well as the ability for the reader to interpret events for themselves. Within the first book, there’s a discussion about multiple realities/interpretations and how all of them can be true at once. Much of the magics ambiguity perfectly matches that. That resonance is lost now that the true nature is spelled out for us. I personally liked that ambiguity, and that freedom to look for answers myself. To me, Assassin of Reality is the ultimate 3-to-3.5 star sequel: it doesn’t add much to my love for Vita Nostra, but it doesn’t subtract anything from it either. Vita Nostra worked perfectly well for me as a standalone, and didn’t truly need a sequel. Depending on the kind of reader you are, and the elements you liked in book 1, your milage with this one will vary. You can find this book here on Goodreads. Spoilers below this line: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I really didn’t like the fact that the whole plotline with Valentine, Sasha’s mum and their baby was done away with as “just an illusion to your academic growth”. I think this family dynamic added a lot of growth to Sasha’s character, and I was actually invested in her relationship with her mum and baby-brother. To have it taken away like this felt a bit like a cop-out.

Genre: Horror Published: Tor Nightfire, March 2023 My Rating: 4/5 stars "The problem with family is that they know where all the levers are that make you move. They’re usually the ones who installed the levers in the first place." What can I say: one of my favourite horror-authors taking on one of my favourite horror tropes (the haunted house)… This was pretty much a designated hitter from the start. In this "southern-gothic-horror", we follow a Sam, a thirty-something entomologist who, when her latest on-location-job is canceled, visits her mother and childhood home for an extended family-visit. Soon, she realises the home isn't quite how she remembered it, and neither is mom. Something strange is happening between these familiar walls, and it's having a devestating effect on mom. Sam sets off on a search for answers amongst the houses secrets, only to find out that some family-secrets are best left buried... Kingfisher has a very recognizable writing style, and some distinct elements and interests that return in almost every single one of her books. For me, as a fan of those same elements: this is great. It also makes this review a little easier to write: if you love her previous works, there’s more where that came from here. Her writing is characterized by a combination of humor and horror, conveyed through the dry-witted narrative voice of her protagonists. They tend to be down-to-earth, independent scientists and/or academics (we’ve had museum-keepers, doctors, bone-alchemists, and now an entomologist), with a skeptical outlook towards the supernatural. They are arguably underdogs in the situations they find themselves in, but rely on brains rather than brawl to stand their ground. Other recurring elements of her fiction are nature-/plant magic, witchcraft, mother-daughter dynamics, an animal companion and the highly specific eccentric-but-sweethearted-hillbilly-down-the-street-woman-side character (you cannot tell me that Gail, Foxy and the Dust-Wive don’t feel very similar). In spite of these similar ingredients, the cocktail Kingfisher manages to brew still feels fresh and excited every time I read a new book of hers. I especially like that her light and readable style lends itself well to subtly introducing more difficult topics. The generational conflict and mother-daughter-dynamics steal the show here. The true to life concept of growing up, and seeing your aging parents in a different light, lends itself so well to the horror-genre. From fear of mental decline, to the fear of your elders antiquated beliefs and morals not holding up to a modern world: there’s a lot to unpack for future horror-authors, and I can’t wait to read it all. The one element that Kingfisher subtly throws in, that really didn’t work for me was the comments on fatphobia. There’s a point where Sam, a plus-size woman just existing on page, suddenly throws out a mental tantrum, clearly aimed at the audience, about medical fatphobia. She suspects she might be hallucinating the events that happen in the house, but doesn’t visit a doctor because “they will only blame it on her weight”. As an MD, this hurts my heart, but I can see there’s probably a conversation to be had here. Unfortunately: that conversation is completely absent. It’s a throwaway line that in context feels insulting to medical professionals, as well as pandering to plus-size individuals. Had I been on the editing team, this line would’ve been left on the cutting room floor, as it adds nothing to the whole. What kept A House with Good Bones from being a 5-star is the ending. As much as I love Kingfisher: endings aren’t her strong suit, and this is no exception. The reveal is a little silly, and the climax resolved a little too easily to be satisfying. That being said, the journey was enjoyable enough for me not to care too much about the destination. I will happily keep this author on my favourite-list and anticipate whatever she comes out with next. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Horror, Coming of Age Published: Tor, August 1st 2023 My Rating: 5/5 stars “Father was wrong, he tells him. Sometimes, being related is all it takes.” As I do for any coming of age novel that includes a dog, I tried to steel myself for heartbreak. Yet Wild Spaces still managed to hit me on so many emotional levels that I was absolutely powerless to the aching sense of loneliness it left me with. Succinct, intimate and yet (dare I say it) cyclopean in scope, this debut novella combines the supernatural horror of Lovecraftian beasts, with the true monsters that live within the ones closest to us. Wild Spaces tells the story of an eleven-year-old boy living an idyllic childhood exploring the remote coastal plains and wetlands of South Carolina alongside his parents and his dog Teach. That all changes one day when his estranged grandfather, mums dad, shows up and wrenches himself forcefully back into their lives. The longer grandpa outstays his welcome and the greater the tension between the adults grows, the more the boy realizes his granddad hides a monstrous nature beneath his human appearance. Something abyssal from the depth, that threatens to spill through the façade of normalcy and devour the family whole. Full discretion: I have a strong soft-spot for this highly specific subgenre of coming-of-age-horror, where our child/teen protagonist uses monstrous-imagery and/or paracosm to make sense of an event that is otherwise too traumatic for a child to grasp. It’s a delicate balance to strike, portraying this in a way that is heartfelt and compassionate ánd strikes terror in the reader. Not many authors nail it on the first try, but Coney absolutely did so. Her character work is perfectly weighed too. At first I struggled with the fact that our protagonist is never called by name, and only referred to as “boy”. It created a sense of distance, that had me worried I wouldn’t be able to feel attached to him. Instead, Coney’s short but striking descriptions of every-day domestic life, perfectly establishes not only “boy”, but his family and their bonds too. In the end, his lack of a name only added to my deep sense of sadness and loneliness when the ending comes around… Needless to repeat: I highly recommend this novella, especially to fans of Laurel Hightower, Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane, and maybe even Strange Creatures by Phoebe North. As far as debuts go, this is close to perfection, and I cannot wait to see what this author has in store for us in the future. Many thanks to Netgalley, Tor and Dreamscape Media for providing me with an (audio)ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

Genre: Literary Fiction, Speculative Published: Melville House, August 2023 My Rating: 2/5 stars Have you ever read a book that’s so marmite, that you’re not even sure whether you liked it yourself, let alone how to recommend it to others? Oh God, The Sun Goes was that kind of book for me… It’s an experimental, hallucinatory piece of speculative literature that leans heavy into its extended metaphor. Só far in fact, that it at times tips over onto its back and struggles to upright itself again. Although I didn’t personally love it, it strongly feels like the kind of book that literary critics and expensive-wine-book-clubs will praise to high heavens for its clever devices and intellectual overtones. Fans of a more grounded novel, will likely be less enamored. Our story opens with a literal world-changing premise: the sun has vanished from the sky, and nobody has been able to explain why it happened. Our unnamed protagonist takes it upon himself to quest for answers. Following a series of clues, gathered from his subconscious mind, as well as a series of eccentric characters he meets along the way, he embarks on a roadtrip across the American deserts. With every strange city he stops at, it becomes clearer that what he’s traversing isn’t simply a landscape but a mindscape too. If this premise intrigues you, and if you enjoy a bit of an existential puzzle; stop reading this review and pick up the book. It’s a short read that you’ll fly through, and has a unique feel to it. The closest comp-title I can come up with is Shadowbahn by Steve Ericson, and even that’s not quite it. In order to explain some of the elements that didn’t work for me, however, I have to get into spoiler-territory. Spoilers: As is heavily hinted at in the synopsis; the entire novel is an extended metaphor for loss. The missing “sun” isn’t really the Sun, and the journey is a reflection of the protagonists mind, processing a major event. Although that premise has great potential, I felt it remained too gimmicky and lacked the depth to resonate emotionally. The author clearly enjoys showing off his knowledge of brain-anatomy; cities/burrows we stop at are “Amygdala”, “Hippocampus”, “Wernicke’s area” etc. Each of these chapters relate in some way to the function of that specific brain-part. There’s even an appendix at the end of the book in which all these references are explained, in case functional anatomy isn’t your daily bread and butter. To me, this approach divides the audience into two camps, neither of which will be happy. On the one hand, these references are going to fly clear over many readers heads, and your appendix at the end is going to be too little too late to help that. On the other hand, to readers who are familiar with it, the presentation isn’t nearly as clever as the author thinks it is, and there’s bound to be a few eyerolls at the pseudo-intellectualism of it all. In my opinion, a book with this premise can take either one of two approaches towards success: go for emotional depth with the loss-story-line, or go the gimmicky route and be self-aware about it. Connor does neither: there’s too little development of the characters to relate to our protagonists grief, but the book is too overwritten and takes itself too serious to be enjoyed for its fun gimmick. Also, dear God, do not get me started on the writing during that one sex-scene. That thing is truly atrociously overwritten and almost had me give up on the book. Overall, I appreciate the authors originality and willingness to take a risk. I can see it being a new favourite for a certain audience, but I don’t think I’m personally among it. Many thanks to Melville Publishing for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Returning readers will need no introduction to this readathon, as I’ve participated in it since its birth years back. Bookroasts G’s project that started as a Hogwarts-themed readathon, has now grown into its own kind of magical RPG-reading-game, that thousands of readers (including myself) happily participate in 2x a year. August 1st marks the second part of 2023’s Orilium readathon, building forwards on our results from the Spring Equinox Readathon in April. For those who need a refresher: I will link G’s introductory video into the readathon, the G-drive where you can find all information, and my previous post in which I introduce my character and set-out my plans for this year. During the Spring Equinox, I attempted to keep multiple career-options open, as I was originally planning to continue both my chosen career as an Alchemist, as well as dip my toes into the new Druid career. That was doable for the Spring Equinox, but for this round it would mean I’d have to finish 21 books, which isn’t feasible for me at this point. Therefore, I will just focus on the Alchemist-prompts, which will already tally up to a 14-book-TBR. Without further ado, let’s get into my chosen subjects and my TBR. Alchemy: It might have made more sense to put a complete series here, since I have to complete all three tiers of the prompt. As I scoured my shelves, however, I didn’t have any complete series on my TBR that I was willing and able to finish in a single month. Instead, I piecemealed it together from different parts of series I’ve been desperate to get to, and managed to get in 3 books from my priority TBR. O: Stone to Copper – The first in a series The Surviving Sky by Kritika Rao Rages #1 Q: Copper to Silver – The second in a series Assassin of Reality by Marina and Sergej Dyachenko Vita Nostra #2 D: Silver to Gold – The last in a series Acceptance by Jeff Vandermeer Southern Reach #3 Animal Studies G always comes up with the best prompt for Animal Studies, and this year was no different. Although I would love a full-time dog for myself, I have to make do with my regular fosters and pet-sitting. One of my frequent overnights guests had the honor of picking a my read. I let him choose between 3 titles, all featuring a dog-companion. First of all, meet Banjer (dutch for “gallivanting”), as well as his pick for my TBR. With the choice between Wild Spaces by S.L. Coney, The Friend by Sigrid Nunez and A Home for Goddesses and Dogs by Leslie Connor, he picked the first one for me. O: introduction to domestic creatures - A pet-pick Wild Spaces by S.L. Coney Astronomy: For this prompt I simply switched on the radio to my music-station of choice (for my Dutchies: it’s Q-Music) during my drive home. The song playing when I arrived was Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift, which isn’t surprising as it’s been all over the radio since its release. The word “summer” therefore became my prompt for Astronomy. O: Moon Song Ritual – word in the title from the last thing you listened to Summer Fishing in Lapland by Juhani Karila Inscription The Q-prompt for Inscription was the one I struggled with the hardest this year. I found only two books on my shelves with a shield on the cover (four if you stretch the prompt to include “face-shields”). There’s Kings of the Wyld by Nicholas Eames, The Witcher Series by Andrzej Sapkowski, The Martian by Andy Weir and Cold Storage by David Koepp. I’ve already read all four of them, and although there are a few favourites among them, I don’t feel like rereading any of them right now. On my Goodreads TBR however, I found two: Abeni’s Song by P. Djeli Clark, and Fires of the Dead by Jed Herne. Abeni’s Song is the one I’m most excited to get to, however, with it being such a new release, I’m unsure if I’ll be able to get a hold of a copy without paying half my month salary. Depending on whether I succeed in that, I’ll pick between these two at a later point throughout the readathon. O: glyph tidy – a book from your end-of-year-tbr A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher Q: glyph of shield – “shield” on the cover or in title Abeni’s Song by P. Djeli Clark or Fires of the Dead by Jed Herne D: advanced penmanship – a non-debut novel The Wise and the Wicked by Rebecca Podos Spells and Incantations: O: Charm short trip – a manga/graphic novel/short story collection Things we Lost in the Fire by Mariana Enriquez Q: incantation black flame – black cover or fire on the cover Swim Home to the Vanished by Brendan Shay Basham Restoration O: induce sleep: start a book before bed The Seep by Chandra Porter Demonology: O: introduction into low level demons - a book you see on other people’s social media Chlorine by Jade Song As seen on BooksandLala’s recent vlog on her Summerween TBR Lore: This prompt has my most “risky” picks for this month. For a booksellers recommendation, my local bookstore has a table of new-releases, with sticky notes from the booksellers on which they recommend or review their favourites. With 5 book-sellers, I know I can blindly trust some of their opinions to match mine, but for others, I have hit-or-miss-experiences. So too with the bookseller that wrote the recommendation for my pick. He tends to like more experimental/alternative literary novels, which tend to be marmite-picks. With this recommendation, I can equally see it being a 1- or a 5 star for me, which has me even more intrigued to try it. Something similar goes for Sudden Traveler; it has very mixed review, but since Burntcoat by the same author was a favourite of last year, I wanted to give it a chance. The prominent red-dress on the cover made it a nice fit for this prompt. O: tale of the guide – a booksellers recommendation Oh God, The Sun Goes by David Connor Q: cursed cloak – clothing on the cover Sudden Traveler by Sarah Hall That concludes an ambitious, but hopefully feasible TBR for August. If you plan to join the Magical Readathon too, feel free to share your TBR and show some love to creator G at Bookroast. Happy reading, and I hope to see you back with my wrap-up at the end of the month.

Genre: YA Magical Realism Published: Penguin Young Readers Group, August 2023 My Rating: 3/5 stars Forty Words for Love is a Young Adult magical realism novel about two teens exploring their feelings for each other against the backdrop of a once-magical town that lost its sparkle. After I’d finished the first chapter, I was convinced I had a my hands on a 5-star-read. With beautiful writing, a setting that lives up to the vividity of its stunning cover, and the set-up for a slightly melancholic mystery: I was hooked. Unfortunately, I never reached that same excitement of the first 50 pages within the rest of the story, and despite its great ideas and set-up, Forty Words for Love didn’t live up to its full potential. The Story: Welcome to Moonlight Bay; a place where energy pulses through the air and its people, the bay-waters run lavender in colour and the trees provide a protective roof over the heads of its refugee people. It’s inhabitants are divided in two groups: the townsfolk: who’ve built an industry of tourism off the lands mystical properties, and the Golub; refugees who’ve made their home in the Moonlight Bay forest, after their home was destroyed. When an unexplained tragedy in town strips the land of its magic, it’s energy burns out, its waters run gray, tourists stop coming in, and the townsfolk and Golub begin to fight amongst each other. Prejudice, blame and mistrusts splits the community in half. Nearly ten years later, we follow Yasmine and Rafay, two teens from opposing communities on their search for answers as their forbidden friendship develops into something more. What I loved: I have a soft-spot for magical realism small-town stories. I think that love was born from The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender, and fostered by the works of Anna-Marie McLemore, Katrina Leno’s Summer of Salt and Emmie Ruth Lang’s Beasts of Extraordinary Circumstance. Forty Words for Love hit many of the same vibes with its descriptions of Moonlight Bays lavender coloured seas, magical forests and electric energy pulsing through its atmosphere. I could more than picture it: I was transported there. The authors lyrical tone matches the almost dreamlike vibe that lays over the town like a blanket. That first chapter sets up an ambitious, multilayered story with plenty of real-world themes to explore. Themes of immigration, refugee-ship and mistrust for “outsiders” within a tight-knit community are strongly present throughout, as well as the generational conflicts that often come with them as our protagonist teens try to break this separation. I was also interested in the dynamic of this town formerly running off tourism and its natural beauty, now desolate and struggling after this sudden loss of their core attraction. All of this, as the background to a wholesome tale of friendship that slowly grows into more (rather than insta-love!) had the potential for a favourite. If only brilliant set-up had be equally brilliantly developed. What I didn’t love: Unfortunately, it’s not. Much of what is set-up remains underdeveloped, including some of the central mysteries and questions. I don’t mind when a novel leaves you the breadcrumbs and has you interpret the answers for yourself, but in this case, some of the major questions just don’t have an answer, despite the story setting us up as if there is one. The more you think about it, the more the worldbuilding starts to fray at the edges too. Moonlight Bay makes sense within its own internal logic, but not within the larger world that’s hinted at. How are they so isolated, despite living off tourism? How is the Golub-rule of never leaving the area viable for generations upon generations? Why are there high-schools and candy-factories in a town with seemingly no more than 100 inhabitants? All those questions individually don’t matter, but combined they break down the illusion and immersion. I wish the book had kept the pacing and consistency of the first chapter, in order to deliver on all its incredible promises. I would’ve happily read a longer novel set within Moonlight Bay, had it meant more depth to its development. Many thanks to Penguin for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Contemporary Fiction Published: Dundurn Press, August 2023 My Rating: 1/5 stars Nathan Whitlocks latest novel is blurbed as “a darkly satirical contemporary story about marriage, motherhood, class, and cancer. Told through multiple perspectives from the people that surround her, we follow the unraveling of a woman’s life after she receives 3 lifechanging pieces of news in a single day: her husband is cheating, she’s pregnant, and that strange lump in her breast is cancerous. Despite that bold set-up, and the fact that I’m not against a good piece of dark comedy, Lump takes the lead as my worst read of 2023 thus far. As a “casual reader” I simply found nothing to enjoy about it. As a cancer-survivor and sensitivity reader on the topic, I actually detested it. I have many thoughts on this book, so will try to keep this as concise as possible. I think the author had an interesting idea on the story he wanted to tell. My dislike boils down to the way he chose to do so, specifically to three elements: the satire/humor, the characters, and the overarching question of “who is telling this story” that kept nagging me. Let’s break it down: The satire/humor: Let me preface this by saying that I’m not of the opinion that “you don’t joke about cancer”. I’ve personally joked about cancer whilst having (had) cancer, and I believe humor can be a healthy way to work through big life events, if it’s done in good faith. Lump just wasn’t funny to me. Much of its satire relies on very tried and tired tropes of “dunking on privileged upper-middle class folks” and the stereotypes that come with that. All the men are immature pigs that think with an organ located a bit lower than their brain. All the women are shallow and seem to lack a brain all together… Good satire can shine in its ability to hold up a mirror in which we can see ourselves/our situations from a different perspective. Lump presents an angle we’ve seen time and time again, bringing nothing new to the table, and thereby losing its sting. The characters: going hand in hand with the previous point; almost every character is a detestable stereotype of themselves. It makes it difficult to relate to them, despite sometimes genuinely commiserative circumstances. It also often had me questioning which part of their stereotype was meant to be funny, and which part was the author actually thinking this is the way women talk to each other. Take this gem of a quote from one character, commenting on the other women in her yoga-class. “Every woman out there looks like a fuck-bot. They all have toddlers with them, but they’re as skinny as rakes. I bet they get C-sections so they don’t get stretched out.” I honestly cannot tell if this is meant as a joke for the reader to be in on (in which case, it’s a tasteless one), or if this is actually just a thinly veiled bad take by the author… Do their choices seem ridiculous for comedy-sake, or just because their motivations are poorly developed. Cat is the only character equipped with at least some potential, yet she’s strangely underused, despite being the focal point of the story. Her POV makes up less than half of the novel, and we strangely cut away to side characters at vital points in her story, only to skip back to her, far after the important event has taken place off-page. Large parts of Cat’s story feel unresolved and messy because of these jump-cuts. Most notably; her entire character arc is left unresolved in the end because of a similar time-skip. Who is telling this story? The odd POV-choices led me to an even bigger question however; who’s story is actually being told here, and by who? That all ties in to my ultimate dislike, and reason for rating it a 1-star. As a cancer-survivor, I love to read stories from people to have a story to tell about cancer, and its impacts on a life. Nathan Whitlock didn’t have that. He wanted to tell a story about marriage, privilege etc., and used cancer as a plot-point- a catalyst- in it. There is something inherently disingenuous about a healthy man (with no personal experience with cancer at the time of writing this novel), writing a story about a woman with cancer. Breast-cancer, mind you… To his credit: Whitlock actually addresses this in his foreword. He mentions being diagnosed with cancer himself after writing Lump, and feeling like it was a kind of karmic justice for writing a story that wasn’t his originally. I’m sorry for his experience, and I feel horrible he felt this way about his story looking back. It still doesn’t change the bitter aftertaste the story left in my mouth personally. I’ve spoken about the use of cancer as a vehicle to add a layer of emotion to a different story, many times before now. It’s a topic I’m sensitive to, as it feels exploitative of something so lifechanging. In many ways, Lump reminded me of a Dutch novel Komt een Vrouw bij de Dokter, in which a man goes on a cheating-spree which he justifies because of his grief over his wife’s recent cancer-diagnosis. It’s one of my most hated books ever, and Lump gave me some of those same feelings of exploitation and emotional manipulation. Overall, I appreciate the attempt and the risks this author took, but I cannot recommend it with a clear conscious. Many thanks to Dundurn Press for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

Genre: Literary Fiction, thriller Published: Gillian Flynn Books, July 2023 Rating: 4/5 stars As the dark-academia-craze of the 2020’s has taken the bookish community by storm, I’ve been struggling to find my “subgenre” within it that I truly enjoy. After 3 years of searching, I think I’ve finally figured out my niche, which I like to call “weird dark academia”. Including Vita Nostra, Babel by R.F. Kuang, the works of Mona Awad and Suzanna Clark, these focus not on the romantic aesthetic of academia, but rather on its strange microcosm, elitism and privilege and the feelings of displacement that come when you don’t feel you belong. The Centre captures many of these same themes within a deliciously dark tale of a mysterious invite-only language school which boasts complete fluency in just ten days, but at a secret cost. Anisa Ellahi, a second generation Pakistani immigrant, dreams of being a translator of “literatures Greats”. Instead, she’s mostly making due with subtitling mediocre Bollywood movies and having to rely on her parents financial support to get by. When her new boyfriend Adam, a man with an extraordinary aptitude for learning new languages, introduces her to The Centre; a secretive language course that promises to teach anyone to speak a language in just a 10-day course, Anisa decides she has little to lose. Skeptical but intrigued, she applies and surrenders herself to The Centre’s unusual methods, immerging 10 days later, fully fluent in German. As Anisa enmeshes herself further within The Centre, seduced by all that it’s made possible, she soon realizes the true cost of its services. Although the plot and sinister mystery are interesting enough, The Centre truly shines in its thematic discussion of language and the nature of translation, colonialism, privilege and preservation through storytelling at its core. As someone who engages in translation heavily to the point where I barely read any fiction in my native tongue anymore, all of these topics are fascinating to me. Like Anisa, I love the multi-facetted process of translating, and I really related to the following passage in which she describes her view on it. “It’s not that translation is a subjective process exactly. In fact, in a way it’s highly mathematical. It’s about retaining the feeling, the thing underneath. It’s as if you go underground and there are all these shapes and colors, and there you see that, oh; “died” in this language is closest in color and shape, consistency and texture, to “passed away” in this other language. And it feels like a personal accomplishment when you make the match and haul the pair back up to the surface.” The Centre isn’t solely celebration of translation though; it also points out the inherent duality of it. More than just words alone, we share, we take, and we change through the processing of experience from different people in this way. With every translation we make, we change minute things about the narrative, whether consciously or unintended. We not only take away something from the original narrative, but also absorb some of it into our own life-experiences, thereby changing ourselves. This all brings up discussions on the morality of this all: who is entitled to change, to interpret, and even to understand? How does it change our own identities? Many of these questions are similar to the ones R.F. Kuang raised in Babel last year, and although they’re very different in style and genre, I feel like they would make for good complimentary reads if you’re looking for more on this topic. Where Babel is far more heavy-handed and lecturing on its subject matter, I liked Siddiqi’s more satirical, contemporary take. That being said, the twist might be more of a marmite one… Due to the role that storytelling (especially through literal “voices”) plays in this novel, I highly recommend the audiobook for this one, as it truly adds to the experience. The narrator does a fantastic job and it truly added a layer of immersion for me. On a separate note: it always intrigues me to no end when books have vastly different covers from different publishers. Especially so when one is among my favourite covers of 2023, and the other is one I absolutely detest. Safe to say: Gillian Flynn Press/Zando Publishing knocked it out of the park with this edition. Picador’s alternate cover is best forgotten… Many thanks to Gillian Flynn Books and Dreamscape Audio for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

Genre: Literary Fiction Published: Quercus Books, June 2023 Rating: 4.5/5 stars “I come from a tribe of women who are ravaged and joyous, loud, raging, tied to our own convoluted histories. We are a knot of branches, mud-speckled and ever-searching.” When it comes to literary fiction, multi-generational family-saga’s focusing on mother-daughter relationships are like catnip to me. So when I was offered the change to review an early copy of Thao Thai’s debut novel covering just those themes, I jumped at the opportunity. I was not disappointed. With remarkable skill, Thai relays a story of generational grief, motherhood and the Vietnamese immigrant experience, as a mother and daughter collide following the death of their family matriarch. We follow three generations of the Tran-women; Ann, who seemingly lives the American-dream life as a successful illustrator in Michigan, her estrange mother Huong, and matriarch Ming who’s always acted as a mediator in the tense relationship of the former two. When Ann’s life is shaken up by the surprise of a positive pregnancy-test, followed closely by the contrasting news that her grandmother Ming has passed away, she returns to their ancestral home (the titular Banyan House) to meet up with her estrange mother, and get their affairs in order. Under the same roof for the first time in years, mother and daughter must face the simmering questions of their past and their uncertain futures, while trying to rebuild their relationship without the one person who’s always held them together. From the very first chapter, the novel shines in setting up three strong and well-rounded protagonists; interesting and engaging on their own, but even more so when pitted against each other in their complex dynamics. Within the opening chapter, the tension between these women is already palpable, as we’re introduced to them through a flashback of the three of them on a beach-stroll in 1998. Already; misunderstandings, resentment, expectations and unspoken traumas have their relationship on thin ice at that time. Years later, we see how these cracks have formed into caverns, dividing the family and creating patterns that prove difficult to break. Like with any of my favourite generational tales, the lives of these women neatly slot into each-other like a series of matryoshka dolls; each unique, but echoing of each-other into a repeating cycle. Their developed characters and individual humanity makes their dynamics relatable and understandable to the reader, regardless of your own family-experiences. All of this is strengthened and supported by the immersive setting of their gothic-, historical mansion; a home that (literally) carries their family legacy within its walls. Without any supernatural elements involved, there is a sense of haunting within these walls; not a ghostly one, but one of history and lived experiences that left a mark. In such, I also love the thematic implications of the novels name. Banyan trees, also known as strangler-figs, grow on top of other trees and send their roots down through cracks and branches, just like the memories and experiences of these women do to the generations that follow them. It’s a metaphor that’s slightly on the nose, but easily forgiven as it works in context. Thematically, Banyan Moon reminded me somewhat of Ocean Vuongs debut novel On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous. Although Thai’s prose doesn’t reach the lyricism of Vuongs poetic background, both present a beautiful atmospheric tale of motherhood and multiple generations of Vietnamese-American immigration. If you loved one, I highly recommend the other. Many thanks to Quercus Books for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own. You can find this book here on Goodreads.

With the start of July, we’ve made it halfway through 2023, which means it’s time for a mid-year check-in. Where in previous years I’ve used the Mid-Year Freak Out Tag, I’ve created my own little format this year, asking myself 20-questions, by which I will try to sum up the past 6 months of reading. As always, I love watching other people answer these questions as much as I enjoy answering them myself, so I invite you to use these questions to create and share your own reading-experiences if you feel like it. As most of you will already know the drill with these type of posts, I will keep this introduction brief, and let my answers to these questions speak for themselves. 1. How has your reading-year been so far? If I were to put a star-rating on this year as a whole, it would probably be a solid 3 to 4-star. There were some standouts, but overall I felt like most of what I read lies somewhere in the middle. As far as quantity goes, I’ve read 73 books, which is above average for me. Mostly, that was due to an extended vacation this spring (5-weeks of saved vacation days that I hadn’t been able to take up due to the effects of the pandemic on the healthcare-system any earlier). Regardless of those numbers, the quantify of books that left a lasting impression and might become all-time favourites was very similar to other years. In part I blame the books themselves, but part of the blame is on me and my headspace too. A lot has been happening personally, mentally and especially professionally in my own life (any doctor will tell you that first year of residency is a killer…), and the amount of new information my brain has had to process left little unoccupied space for reading. Let alone reviewing everything I read! A few years ago, I would’ve beaten myself up over this, but I’m trying to be less rigid about it. Enjoyment and relaxation are currently at the forefront of my agenda when it comes to reading, rather than reading the “qualitatively best books” out there. If this past half-year has taught me anything, it’s to appreciate the value of different books for different moments in your life even more. At times I may want to read emotionally resonant, deeply impactful novels that stick with me for a life time. Other times, a novel that’s less memorable, but provides you with an unapologetically good time, is just as valuable. 2. What were your top three favourite reads of the year? Take these with a drizzle of lemon and a pinch of salt, as it’s fully possible that other books will surpass them in my end-of-year wrap-up. My top 5 was very close this year, so the pick of these three above the other two was mostly based off the fact that I already mentioned the other two in different questions. First we have my most anticipated release of the year: Now She is Witch by Kirsty Logan. If you’ve been around, you’ll know my love for this author, her writing and her themes. I’ve adored everything she’s written so far, and this was no exception. Now She is Witch is a literary fable of witchcraft, loneliness and womanhood in its various roles. It starts with a girl, digging her mother’s grave in a poison garden. With nothing and nobody left, she tracks through the woods into the wide world, slipping on different roles and finding herself as she goes. Logan plays with motifs from fairytales, light and dark, and themes of witchcraft, ancient storytelling and theatre. For example: a recurring theme is the ancient storytelling trope of classifying women as maiden, mother or crone. Logan spins that trope on its head and uses it beautifully to tell her story. As I’ve said in my review: I’m in awe of this woman’s skill with language. Kirsty Logan is a word-witch and I’m thoroughly under her spell. Second is a book that’s absolutely incredible in its own right, but also came to me at the perfect time to reach maximum resonance. Tripping Arcadia by Kit Mayquist is part contemporary fiction, part literary horror; a tale of privilege, medicine, power dynamics, and the false sense of invincibility that comes with the intersection of these factors. It follows a med-school dropout from a lower-class family who, in an attempt to pull her struggling family back from financial ruin, accepts a questionable job as an assistant to the private physician of Boston’s most elite family. What begins with the care for their ailing son, struck down with a mysterious illness, soon leads into the underbelly of Boston’s elite and richest layers of society. Tripping Arcadia isn’t a horror story, but still builds and maintains a level of tension fit for one. There’s a lot of anger and resentment (often justified) within this novel, radiating from each character, and their subsequent actions, regardless of how deplorable they might be, are fascinating to see play out. Third we have a middle-grade novel that warmed my heart and left me with tears in my eyes by the final page. The Girl From Earths End by Tara Dairman tells the story of 12-year old Hannah, living a peaceful life with her two fathers on a small isolated island, tending to the gardens there. Everything changes when one of her dads falls seriously ill. When Henna learns of the existence of a legendary, near-extinct plant with miraculous healing powers, she sets of on a quest to the main-island to join the Academy of Botany located there, in the hopes of bringing back this plant for her dad. What follows is a beautiful journey of friendship, acceptance and a wonderfully diverse cast (including non-binary, disability, and various LGBTQ+ representation). You can find my full review here, but safe to say it’s one of my new favourite middle-grade novels. 3. Best fantasy novel? I’ve had a lot of luck with fantasy reads this year, and I could probably already fill a top 10 if I wanted to. Therefore this was probably the most difficult answer to narrow down. Ultimately, the number one spot goes to the novel I had the best reading-experience and fondest memories with. It’s Secret Project number 1 by the King of Fantasy himself, aka: Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson. It's probably best described by Sanderson himself, when he explained the idea for this book was born as him wanting to write a more light-hearted fantasy story in the style of The Princess Bride, set in the Cosmere-universe. He absolutely nailed that endeavour. Tress of the Emerald Sea is a cosy pirate fantasy, with memorable characters, an even more memorable setting, and a witty narrator with a unique narrative voice. All of which is supported by the phenomenal backbone of the in-depth worldbuilding of the Cosmere-Universe. If it wasn’t on your radar already, this is your call to action to change that. As it’s hard to beat a master like Sanderson, a lot of great fantasy books didn’t make the spot, despite being deserving of a shout-out. Therefore, a quick shout-out to the ones that almost made it: Dark Water Daughter by H.M. Long; a high-fantasy pirate story that feels like the love-child of Pirates of the Caribbean and The Liveship trilogy. The Ghost Theatre by Mat Osman; a tale of an underground theatre-group run by societal outcasts against the backdrop of Elizabethan London. And finally A Fire Endless by Rebecca Ross, the worthy, deeply atmospheric conclusion to the Elements of Cadence duology. 4. Best horror/thriller novel? I’ve like Catriona Wards previous novels well enough, but was taken by surprise with the level of existential horror that Looking Glass Sound managed to evoke in me. Our story begins with 16-year old Wilder, spending the summer in his parents cottage at the coastal Maine town of Whistler Bay. He spends most his time exploring the beaches with his friends Nat and Harper, swapping ghost-stories and local legends; mainly the tall-tales about the towns infamous serial killer known as the Dagger Man of Whistler Bay. Their innocent fun is upended when the three make a gruesome discovery on the beach one day, that reframes every but of childhood safety and nostalgia forever. Now, years later, Wilder is a washed up author, still haunted by the traumatic events of that summer. In an attempt to face his ghosts, Wilder returns to Whistler Bay to finish his latest novel: the autobiographical tale of the summer that changed his life. Before long, the lines between facts and fiction begin to blur for Wilder ánd for us as the reader. You can find my full review here. 5. Best children’s/middle-grade novel? The Girls from Earths End obviously stands out as my favourite middle-grade read, but since I’ve already mentioned it, I’ll give you my runner up as well. The Secret of Haven Point by Lisette Auton is a novel I loved for many of the same reasons. It’s a heartwarming, magical, coastal adventure filled to the brim with wonderful representation of various disabilities. The story centres around a found-family-community of disabled kids, who came together in search of a place where they belong and feel accepted. When Outsiders threaten to discover their isolated community, they embark on a journey of standing up for themselves, and deciding on the place they want to occupy in the world. Packed with beautiful messages, memorable characters and fun adventures; this is one that can be enjoyed by adults and kids alike. Full review can be found here. 6. Best Young Adult novel? I’m always on the hunt for good disability representation within the young-adult genre, and this has to be one of my favourites in recent years. Where do You See Yourself by Claire Forrest is a contemporary novel that follows a girls journey through her final year of high-school and applying to colleges. Graduation, finding the right college and planning for the future is stressful for almost everybody. For Effie however, there’s the extra consideration accessibility: will this school accommodate for new student in a wheelchair? Torn between the choice of her dream-school that won’t accommodate her, and the “safer choice” of a local school that will, we follow Effie’s year of personal growth and finding a balance between advocating for herself, and allowing herself to just live the life of a prospect college student. Filled with fantastic conversations about ableism in academia, beautiful supportive friendships and families, and a sweet romance on the side, I absolutely adored this book. It’s one of the best depictions of an underrepresented topic, and I highly recommend it to anyone, regardless of bodily abilities. 7. Best debut novel? Catfish Rolling by ClaraKumagai is not only my favourite debut of the year so far, but unfortunately remains painfully underrated and underread. With echoes of both Annihilation and The Astonishing Colour of After, this is a magical realism story with elements of Japanese mythology that tells a haunting tale of grief, family, time and the earthquake that shook a nation.Again, I’ve written a full review which you can find here. In short though, it ticks many of my boxes as far as favourite themes are concerned, and nails its sense of emotion as well as setting. Highly recommended, especially since it hasn’t nearly gotten the amount of attention it deserved so far. 8. Favourite reread? I included this prompt for the sole reason that my best reading memories for 2023 were all rereads. Tied for this first place are my (probably 3rd or 4th) reread of the Area X trilogy by Jeff Vandermeer, which cements its place as probably my favourite series ever even deeper with every revisit, and Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger, which is quickly becoming a go-to comfort book for me. If either of those are still on your TBR: I cannot recommend them highly enough. 9. Best sequel? In line with the previous answer; my favourite sequel was Authority by Jeff Vandermeer, book 2 in the Area X trilogy. I distinctly remember being a little disappointed by this book back when I first read it, after how much I loved Annihilation. Authority took a bit of a different direction that I had hoped at the time. In hindsight though, and upon reread, I’m coming to love Authority even more every day. It’s astounding to me that Vandermeer has written a series that has so many secrets and layers within its pages that after countless rereads, I still find something new in them with every revisit. 10. The longest book you’ve read? The longest book I’ve read this year immediately popped into my mind, as it truly felt like an accomplishment that I finished this beast. I’m talking about The Deluge by Stephen Markley, clocking in at a whopping 896 pages. I have a full review in which I discuss my thoughts, but in short: I would’ve probably given it a 5-star rating, had it been 1/3 the length. It’s a multi-POV climate-epic that has many brilliant moments speckled in between a lot of unnecessary filler. The seed of a 5-star novel is in there, but it doesn’t justify its almost 900-page length. 11. The shortest book you’ve read? For my shortest read, there were a few stand-out short stories within the collection Metamorphosis by Penelope Lively. I felt the entire collection was very strong, but the titular story stood out to me. Metamorphosis follows a woman’s musings about big questions on life, change, and the legacy we leave behind when we pass, triggered by various household-objects made from animal-parts (a tortoiseshell mirror, an ivory umbrella-stand, etc.). 12. Biggest disappointment? As sad as I am to say it, my biggest disappointment of 2023 was Shy by Max Porter. It was far from the worst book I read, but it does stand out as the one to let down my expectations the most. I’ve been a fan of Porters previous works, especially Grief is the Thing with Feathers and Lanny, so his latest release was a book I highly anticipated. The story of Shy follows a troubled teenager over the course of one night in which he runs away from his Last-Chance-House. As he wonders the empty streets, he converses with the voices inside his head and shows us a bit of his inner world. Not only did the book not resonate with me personally the way his previous works did, I also felt like Porter played it a little safe with this one. What I love about his style is that he’s comfortable to experiment a little, but Shy felt like more of the same techniques he used before. You can find a full review with my thoughts here. 13. A book that made you happy? Two books immediately stand out for this question. As I’ve already talked about Tress of the Emerald Sea, this spotlight goes to In the Lives of Puppets by T.J. Klune. Although I’ve liked his previous two books, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy this one as much as I did. It’s a (very!) loose retelling of Pinocchio, with element of Frankenstein speckled through it, set in a post-apocalyptic future. We follow a young man and his inventor-father, as they live an isolated life in the forest, rescuing and repairing robot-wrecks from nearby scrapyards. Their repair of a very special type of robot draws the attention of a larger outside force, that upsets their peaceful existence. In the Lives of Puppets has Klune doing what he does best: create a whimsical tale with a slightly awkward protagonist, a cast of lovable side-characters and an adorable M-M-romance. They may not be complex SSF-masterpieces with intricate worldbuilding and character-arcs, but within their own genre of feel-good-SSF, Klune’s stories are some of my favourites. 14. A book that made you cry? I’m not a book-cryer, but there were two books that put a lump in my throat and/or a glistening to my eye. I’ve already mentioned The Girl From Earths End, which caught me by surprise as most middle-grade novels with heavier themes tend to do. The second book that really hit me hard was my reread of We Speak in Storms by Natalie Lund. It’s a deeply melancholic read, about a small town with a legacy of tragedy brought on by seasonal tornado’s. When the latest tornado touches down, it brings with it the ghosts of three people that perished in one of the towns largest wind-blown disasters from decades ago. Each ghost attaches itself to a teenager within the town, going through personal struggles of their own. These hauntings prove more helpful than hurtful however; each duo of living-and-dead helping each other to put their own personal ghosts to rest. The part of the book that got me (and has gotten me every time I’ve read it) is Callie’s storyline, which follows her caring for her terminally ill mother. It’s heart-wrenching and brilliantly done, and as such it hits very close to home for me. Although I want to recommend this stunning work to everyone, I recognise its subject-matter comes with a lot of triggers, so please be sure to look into those before you decide to pick this one up. 15. A book outside your comfort zone? If you’ve been with me for a little longer, you’ll probably know my almost irrational hatred for the trope of fae. I think it’s ultimately the amount of cringe-worthy fae-romances that people have tried to sell me on, that have made me so cynical towards this subgenre, but I cannot remember a single fae/fairy-story I actually enjoyed, ever. Until now… Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett still wasn’t a favourite, but it’s at least my most enjoyed fae-story to date. Although it has a lot of familiar tropes, Heather Fawcett gave her own spin on it, bringing the Fae in this tale closer to the mischievous folk of northern-European legend that the winged-hot-dude depiction that’s dominated fiction lately. My full review can be found here. 16. A book you can’t stop thinking about still thinking about? In Ascension by Martin MacInnis has lived rentfree in my mind ever since I flipped the final page. I immediately felt deeply conflicted about this novel; feeling on the one hand like this had to be new favourite based off its themes, messaging and style. On the other hand, there were so many point I resented that there was an undeniable bitter aftertaste to it too. In Ascension is one of the most ambitious novels I’ve read this year. It follow Dutch marine biologist Leigh Hasenbosch, who tries to outgrow her troubled youth through an ambitious career of traveling the globe to study ancient deep-sea microbes. When a trench is discovered in the Atlantic ocean, Leigh joins the exploration team, hoping to find evidence of the earth's first life forms. What she instead finds calls into question everything we know about our own beginnings and sets her up on a lifechanging journey even further up. The novel spans from the largest places we know (the deep sea to space), to the smallest and darkest places of memory we hide within ourself. On paper, it’s absolutely brilliant, but I couldn’t shake the feeling throughout that the author was very aware of his own brilliance. The language often veers into the overwritten, and many of the characterwork that’s presented as “deep” doesn’t truly outgrow a level of arm-chair-psychology that often rubbed me the wrong way. I feel like time (and possibly a reread) will tell if I actually end up loving this story, or if my thoughts remain as conflicted. Part of that confliction and inability to say for sure whether I love or resent this book, has made it so memorable to me. 17. Most beautiful book (cover and/or overall design)? We have another tie, as both these hardcover editions are beautiful enough that I’ve flipped through them from now and then, just to admire their design. My first purchase of the year was a signed preorder of my most anticipated novel of the year Now She is Witch by Kirsty Logan. Stunning from cover to end-pages, ánd a valuable addition to my collection of signed pieces by one of my favourite authors. Second is a book that I had no aesthetic expectations for whatsoever, so I was completely blown away when it arrived looking so stunning. The designers for The Girl From Earths End by Tara Dairman have absolutely outdone themselves with this one. Again, from cover illustration to title headings: this book is a looker. 18. A 2023 release that’s you haven’t gotten to, but want to make a priority? First up is one of my most anticipated sequels of the year, that I haven’t gotten to as I want to reread book 1 before diving in. Assassin of Reality by Marina Dyachenko is the sequel to Vita Nostra, which I still hail to be the best dark-academia (fantasy) novel I’ve ever encountered. I’m planning on a reread soon, hopefully following up with the sequel immediately afterwards. Second is a haunted house novel by one of my favourite horror authors currently writing: A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher. In this we follow a young woman returning to her childhood home, where her mother now lives alone. The home isn’t quite how she remembers it, and her mother’s behaviour seems off without an apparent reason. I honestly don’t need to know anything more: Kingfisher taking on one of my favourite tropes is something I want to read regardless. I’ve only been waiting for an opportunity to get my hands on a copy. Last we have The Surviving Sky by Kritika H. Rao; a very recent release that I purely put on my TBR because of how incredibly cool the synopsis sounded. It’s described as a Hindu philosophy-inspired SSF-debut following a husband and wife racing to save their living city—and their troubled marriage—high above a jungle world besieged by cataclysmic storms. The floating city, as well as the idea of an already established couple with a marriage on the rocks really spoke to me, so I can’t wait to see what this book brings us. 19. Any books you’ve DNF-ed or lost interest reading in since the start of this year? This one will get some pitchforks raised my way, but my mind is quite made up about this author and me not being a good match. I have completely given up on R.F. Kuang’s work, and therefore her latest novel Yellow Face. I fully recognise that her works raise a lot of important topics, and will be very valuable to many a reader, but her lecturing tone and lack of subtlety in her messaging just don’t work for me. I’ve encountered this same issue in The Poppy War, as well as Babel; both objectively great novels, but completely ruined for me by the way the author hammers home her message over and over, as if she doesn’t trust the reader to pick up on it themselves. Babel is probably the best example of it, and as someone who’s done a lot of work in fighting inequity in academia myself, the patronising tone in which she tried to educate her readers rubbed me the wrong way. I’ve heard similar critiques from reviewers I trust about Yellowface, and after already encountering some of these same issues in the first few pages, I’ve decided to give up on it. I might miss out on an “objectively good book”, but I’d rather engage with this subject matter by the hand of a different author. 20. Anticipated releases for the second half of the year? Most of my anticipated releases for 2023 have already been released, or have had their release date pushed back to 2024. As such, I have only a limited list left, three of which stand out the most. In September I look forward to the latest work by one of my favourite bookish-creators/author Jen Campbell, who’s releasing her next short story collection Please Do Not Touch This Exhibit. As with her previous works, her short-stories deal with topics of disability, body, grief with the recent addition as an intersecting topic IVF, based off her own life experiences. I have a lot of trust in Jen’s ability to give words to these subjects in ways that I can only wish I could, and I look forward to an emotional but resonant read. Out in October is A Haunting on the Hill by Elizabeth Hand, which is the “spiritual sequel” to one of my favourite classics The Haunting of Hill House. Revisiting and attempting to add to a classic tale, years later and by a different authors pen, can be either a homerun or a recipe for disaster. I can’t wait to find out where this one lands on that spectrum. Last we have a bit of a wildcard; a novel out in August that I know very little about other than the fact that a good friend read an ARC and told me I was going to love it. Swim Home to the Vanished by Brendan Shay Basham is a magical realism novel about grief, witchcraft and elements of Navajo folklore, that follows a mans journey of coming to terms with the unbearable loss of his brother, who disappeared into a river one day, presumed dead. With that final answer, we’ve reached the end of this mid-year wrap-up. If you liked the format, feel free to use and adapt it to share your own reading-experiences of the year so far. It’s my goal to review all of the books mentioned in this post in longform, but I’ve acquired a bit of a backlog due to work-responsibilities. As such, I will link the ones I have already, and add to the list as soon as possible. Until then, happy reading; I hope your year is as least as good as mine!