This was my third Hendrix novel, following How to Sell a Haunted House last fall, and The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires earlier this year. I loved the first two, and expected to enjoy this one as well. Possession horror and high school friendship over an 80s backdrop? Count me the hell in. My Best Friend’s Exorcism didn’t disappoint.
Synopsis: Childhood best friends Abby and Gretchen have everything going for them at the start of their sophomore year—they’re pretty, popular, and at the top of their class in their prestigious private high school. But when Gretchen starts to act different, Abby becomes worried. Gretchen isn’t herself anymore, and Abby decides she must be possessed by a demon. As her own life begins to crumble around her, will Abby’s love for her best friend be enough to save Gretchen from the forces of evil?
***
This was a really fun, fresh take on possession horror. I loved it for both that and its gorgeous portrayal of female friendship. It featured several great moments of visceral horror that will be plastered in my mind for the foreseeable future. I do wish we learned more about how Gretchen actually became possessed—things are implied, but I found myself craving a fuller picture of what really happened to her. Other than that, though, I fully enjoyed this book and would re-read it in the future.
❓ What’s your favorite movie or novel featuring a tale of possession?
The fourth and final book in Maguire’s Wicked series, Out of Oz, had been sitting on my shelf for a decade before I finally decided to buckle down and read it. I was pretty disappointed in book three, A Lion Among Men, so I was apprehensive about this one. Wicked is among my all-time favorite books, and I didn’t want my last memory of the series to be negative. In the end, Out of Oz was pretty decent. I can’t say it’s my favorite of the series, but it brought a satisfying end to the saga of the Thropp family and seemed like a good way to wrap up Maguire’s vision of a gritty and complex land of Oz.
Summary: Social unrest bubbles through Oz as Munchkinland fights to maintain its independence and the forces of the Emerald City scheme and struggle to bring the economically crucial province back under control. Amidst the chaos, Lady Glinda finds herself under house arrest, while the Cowardly Lion is on the lam with the Clock of the Time Dragon, and rumors begin to spread of the return of Dorothy. Stuck in the center of all this hubbub is Rain, the daughter of Liir and supposed granddaughter of Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. As she comes of age she’ll find that there is perhaps nothing more dangerous and challenging than being true to her roots.
***
Slipping back into Maguire’s Oz is like taking a vacation to a favorite country. It’s old, filled with secrets, and constantly healing from wounds caused by perennial conflicts. But it has a charm and richness that makes me want to keep coming back (which is probably why I’ve re-read Wicked more than almost any other book in my library). Out of Oz takes the reader through this well-developed backdrop to check in on familiar characters and meet many new and interesting ones. I loved getting to spend time with Glinda again, and even the Lion didn’t annoy me as much this time around. The main character, Rain, has a great arc and her growth as she navigates a difficult upbringing in a chaotic time is ultimately quite satisfying.
That being said, I didn’t quite LOVE this book. There were spans when it just seemed to slog on pointlessly and I couldn’t wait to be done with it. I also strenuously object to the off-screen death of a particular character whose existence seemed so important to the plot of the previous two books. Having that character die in an off-hand way for seemingly no reason felt like a slap in the face.
But this book does something right, because by the end I was riveted, emotional, and loathe to say goodbye to Oz and its colorful characters. My final impression was that this book did a great job wrapping up the Wicked Years quadrilogy.
❓ The film adaptation of Wicked (the musical) is out this month. Are you planning to go see it?
This gem, Lisa Jewell’s suspense thriller None of This is True, was recommended to me by a good friend earlier this year. I had no idea it was a Booktok trending book until after I finished it, but in this case (for me, anyway) I’d say Booktok was right on the money. I enjoyed this one a lot.
Summary: Podcaster Alix Summers is on the lookout for a new project when she meets the odd, timid Josie Fair at a pub where they are both celebrating their birthdays. After embarking on a journey to record a podcast about Josie’s life, Alix discovers that this woman has overcome so much and is determined to change her life. But there is something…unsettling about Josie. Too intrigued to stop recording the podcast, Alix will soon learn the truth about Josie’s past—because if there’s one talent Josie has, it’s for bending the truth.
***
None of This is True has the perfect blend of character building, drama and suspense. Character POVs flip back and forth between Josie and Alix, interspersed with interviews from the podcast with people who knew Josie before…The Incident. What was The Incident, you ask? Well, you have to engage with all the lead-up in this story to find out. Jewell gives nothing away for free.
The pace of this book drew me along like a pet chasing a treat, making it impossible for me to put down. It was also just the right length—long enough for the plot to simmer and play out in a satisfying manner, but not bloated with unnecessary details or side plots. I listened to the audiobook version of this, which was brilliantly acted and worked extremely well with the podcast/interview aspect of this novel.
I loved this book, and will definitely be a return customer for Lisa Jewell in the future.
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while (hello, all two of you), you know that I’ve been really enjoying Stephen Graham Jones for the last couple years, and in particular the books in his Indian Lake series. Though I was ravenously hungry for the conclusion to this trilogy, after its release in March I waited patiently for my turn to borrow the audiobook of The Angel of Indian Lake from my local library through the Libby app. It was worth the wait—though now that I’ve seen these characters through to the end, I’m a little sad that it’s over.
Summary: Jade Daniels is getting by, somehow. With medication for her trauma and a new job as the history teacher at her old high school, she tries to put the past behind her. But it’s kind of hard when, once again, people around her start dying. As she fights for her own life and the lives of those she loves, she’ll have to marshal all her final-girl strength to lay to rest—once and for all—the evil fueling the carnage in Proofrock.
***
Fast-paced, thrilling and more violent than ever, The Angel of Indian Lake pulls no punches. The prologue does a great job setting the tone, and then we’re right back with Jade as she tries to hold it together in order to navigate this new bloodbath. Seeing her (and Letha as well) develop as a character throughout this series has been a real treat. I think she’s one of my favorite paper friends I’ve made on my reading journey over the past couple years. The desire to see how she’ll claw her way out of challenge after challenge makes this book an incredible page-turner
My only frustration here was the number of callbacks throughout the book. It was constantly referencing characters I’d completely forgotten about, and paired with the heart-poundingly fast pace of the plot, it was a little confusing to follow. I think that means I just need to re-read from the beginning, which I’m actually not mad about.
All in all, I thought The Angel of Indian Lake was a brilliant conclusion to the fun and bloody Indian Lake Trilogy—altogether a fully fitting tribute to the slasher genre.
If you’re intrigued by this review and curious about the rest of this series, check out my reviews of the first two books, My Heart is a Chainsaw and Don’t Fear the Reaper.
I am always blown away by the literary wonder woman Joyce Carol Oates. Earlier this year I was lucky enough to attend a live interview and book signing featuring this absolute icon, as part of the AViD visiting authors series put on by the Des Moines Public Library. At the age of 86, Oates still manages to put out at least one book every year, in addition to numerous short stories, poems and collections. Seriously, what a powerhouse.
Anyway, the event in question was celebrating her newest novel Butcher, which I couldn’t go home without a (signed!) copy of. This book promised to check so many of my “yes” boxes: historical fiction, an old-timey asylum, medical horror, cathartic revenge, and the humiliation of an infuriatingly wrong yet cocksure man in a position of authority. I was fully on board. Butcher didn’t disappoint.
Summary: Butcher is a collection of essays, journals and interviews chronicling the life of Dr. Silas Weir, the “Father of Gyno-Psychiatry.” Forced to take a position at a New Jersey asylum for “female lunatics” following a professional humiliation, Weir carves out a niche for himself by subjecting the neglected women under his care to a wide range of horrifying experiments so he can publish the results. Operating unsupervised and unchecked in his position for decades, Weir becomes obsessed with a young servant named Brigit, who will become both his primary experimental subject and his eventual undoing.
***
This book was equal parts horrifying and intriguing. Using multiple points of view, Oates paints a thoroughly convincing picture of a 19th century doctor drunk on power and hungry for notoriety. Through Weir’s own journal entries, we see a man who is unapologetically classist, repulsed by the female body, and so self-assured in his own faith and medical training that he truly believes he’s blessed with divine insight to heal the female body and mind—even as he subjects his patients to the most inhumane treatments. Weir is a great example of an unreliable narrator: he’s really convinced that he’s doing good for his patients, although the subtext shines through bright and clear to show the monster hiding underneath. His point of view is fleshed out by the accounts of other characters such as Weir’s own son and his star patient Brigit, which serve to highlight how warped the doctor’s own self-image has become.
As monstrous and misogynistic as Dr. Weir is, his character toes the line between realistic and cartoonishly evil. Oates manages to make him sympathetic—even as awful as he is, he’s at least in part a product of his time who ultimately wishes to do good. Again and again he is validated by men who, like him, believe in the inherent inferiority of women, the inherent virtue of social station, and the pursuit of science above all other considerations. Though he is the villain in the end, the catharsis of his downfall is tempered by the tragedy of lost potential.
The truly terrifying thing about this book, though, is that Silas Weir and his writings are heavily based on actual historical documents, and likely on a specific figure: J. Marion Sims, the “father of modern gynecology.” Like Weir, Sims gained his notoriety by performing medical experiments without anesthetic on vulnerable women—in Sims’ case, enslaved women. Both the fictional and historical men do unspeakable harm in the name of medical progress, the portrayal of which Oates never shies away from.
I was engrossed by this book. Its masterfully executed themes and haunting imagery have stuck with me months after the fact. It will definitely worm its way onto my reread pile in the next couple years—perhaps sooner than later.
Last fall I was lucky enough to win an Instagram giveaway from indie author Christiane Erwin for a copy of her YA supernatural thriller Jude’s Diary. It took me too long to get around to reading it, and even longer to post my review—but it’s never too late to get the word out. This is one author I look forward to supporting and reading more of in the future.
Summary:
It’s senior year, and Alissa is at the top of her game: she’s gotten into her dream school, is acing all her classes, and is about to graduate as valedictorian. But it seems someone is out to sabotage her. Alissa isn’t one to take that kind of insult lying down. She’ll do anything in her power—including manipulating the school outcast Jude Peary—to come out on top. Jude is always scribbling in her notebook, so Alissa plans to use whatever information she can find inside it to her advantage. But Jude isn’t quite who she seems to be, and this plan of Alissa’s may end up being more complicated than she’d anticipated. How far will Alissa go to get what she wants?
***
Jude’s Diary certainly kept me turning the pages to see what would happen next. Alissa is a capable schemer and it’s fun to watch her machinations succeed and fail. She’s so compelling as a flawed main character, and seems so on top of everything at the beginning. It’s interesting to see control slowly slipping from her hands even as the seemingly hapless Jude seems to be lucking out at every turn.
My only complaints about this novel were that the ending felt rushed—just a little too neatly wrapped up—and certain details (which I won’t go into to avoid spoilers) didn’t make sense to me. Still, it’s a suspenseful romp and I look forward to reading more of what I now know is a series. Yes, it turns out that Jude’s Diary is Erwin’s first installment in a series of books featuring Alissa. Can’t wait for the next one!
I’m excited about this author because she has two specialties. The first is pink horror which centers female characters, especially those who are complex and flawed. The second is her Florida Gothic style which combines the dark, nightmarish madness of a Gothic story with a modern Florida aesthetic.
It’s through this lens that Parasocial presents a chilling view of the relationship between influencers and the fans who live for their content.
As a feminist horror fan hailing from Florida, I can hardly think of anything that feels more tailored to my tastes. Parasocial by Wendy Dalrymple is the first of what I hope will be many indie horror books I’ll get to review this year.
Summary: Casey’s life is boring. At nineteen, she doesn’t have much going for her aside from a dead-end job as a pet store cashier and a crush on a coffee shop clerk who can’t even remember her name. The only thing that she can seem to get really excited about is Della, the vibrant and charismatic content creator whose daily video streams Casey follows obsessively. When Della announces that she’ll be undergoing treatment for a serious illness, Casey sets up a crowdfunding account to pay for her medical expenses. It’s the right thing to do — and may even help her become closer with her idol. But who is Della, really? Casey is about to find out the hard way why you should never meet your heroes.
The Florida Gothic aesthetic is new to me, but also instantly recognizable in Parasocial. Decaying, forlorn houses often figure prominently in Gothic tales, and I couldn’t get over how perfectly Della’s moldy, sagging Tampa home was the perfect Floridian version of that. The reader may not have much idea where the plot is headed by the time the house is introduced, but they’ll certainly get a sense of dread that tells them nothing good or normal can come out of that building.
Casey as a protagonist was brilliant, too. I was completely absorbed in her story by the time I’d read only a few pages. In putting all of this novella’s action in the hands of a nineteen year-old character, Dalrymple manages to capture that authentic feeling of barely-in-control naivete that most people probably feel in their youth. You know, that brief age when you’re legally an adult but still basically a child. It made me sympathize with Casey as she hopped from one ill-advised decision to the next. Then the twists and turns to her story kept me hooked all the way through. I kept thinking I knew where the plot was headed, but I was wrong every time — and I loved it.
The writing could use tightening up in a few places. Casey is a little too self-aware at times — almost as if she’s nodding directly to the reader to say, “yes, I know I’m a stupid teenager.” It took me out of the story here and there, but didn’t impact my overall enjoyment of the book. Also, the climactic confrontation between Casey and Della wraps up more neatly and quickly than I’d hoped — though ultimately I’d call the ending satisfying.
What will live on in my brain about this novel isn’t what it could have done better, but what an engaging and refreshing read it was. I’ll remember it for showing how it’s so easy for a well-meaning young woman to get herself into a tense situation that she can’t smile and nod her way out of; for Della’s captivating combination dark power and unhinged scheming; for all the uncomfortable, horrifying moments that make Parasocial a worthwhile take on Gothic fiction.
This is an easy four stars. Parasocial was a fun and chilling examination of the role of social media in our lives, and the relationships that can form between ourselves and people we may never even physically meet. It would be a great quick read for anyone with an itch for something fresh and disturbing.
Vampires of El Norte by Isabel Cañas burst onto the popular book scene last summer with an eye-catching cover and the tantalizing promise of a vampire thriller-romance (thrillmance? can that be the new romantasy?). It’s Cañas’s second novel (following her bestselling 2022 debut The Hacienda), and I was able to squeeze it in as my very last read of 2023. It managed to be a charming and gripping tale I bet many romance fans would enjoy — but it didn’t quite live up to my expectations.
Summary:
Nena and Nestor were inseparable as children — until one night when the two 13 year-olds snuck out to search for buried silver, and Nena was attacked by some sort of savage, spider-limbed creature. Certain that Nena was dead, Nestor fled in fear, staying far away from Nena’s family’s land for over a decade. When he finally returns, ready to fight the looming threat of Anglo invaders, he’s shocked to see Nena alive, warm and…hostile. Seeing Nestor for the first time in ten years, Nena can’t help but be furious. After all, he’d promised never to leave her, and had promptly done just that. But now, with battle looming, they’ll have to deal with what it means to be in each other’s lives again as they work together to survive. It’s not just the horror of war that threatens their future — there is something else, something that sticks to the shadows and nurses a wicked thirst for blood.
***
The shining beacon within Vampires of El Norte is the romance plot, which is very sweet. Nena is the center of Nestor’s life — until he believes her dead. And Nestor is the one person Nena knows she can trust — until he runs away. The tension of their unexpected reunion and gradual reconciliation draws the reader constantly forward. I kept turning the pages because I had to know, do these two ever really talk about their feelings? Cañas has a gift for suspense and natural-sounding dialogue, so every scene between Nena and Nestor feels like you’re a fly on the wall listening in, and you can’t stop vibrating your little cellophane wings in anticipation of the impending juicy confrontation.
My personal tastes, however, skew more toward the horror side of things. The romantic aspect of Vampires of El Norte may be well-paced and compelling (if a little predictable), but I was disappointed by how little the vampires mattered to the plot. They only appear a handful of times, and could easily be replaced with something like werewolves, zombies or rabid raccoons with very little change to the story. The only reason vampires make a little more textual sense is because they’re an apt metaphor for the land-hungry American invaders, who represent the ultimate evil in the story.
Even this question of “who are the real vampires?” doesn’t matter much in the end. Ninety percent of this book is simply Nena and Nestor pining after each other, then pulling back just before they can talk about their feelings because their traumatic history and nineteenth-century Catholic propriety just keep getting in the way. The rest — the time period, the war, and the vampires — are just backdrop elements.
I don’t think that makes Vampires of El Norte a bad book. There’s so much it does incredibly well. Cañas masterfully paints a portrait of a place in time (1840s Mexico) and splashes it with a love story that even the most stone-hearted reader can’t help rooting for. Sex is never more than implied, but boy is it implied. The scene in particular where Nestor teaches Nena how to shoot a pistol is deliciously tense and unbelievably steamy for a scene where everyone remains fully clothed. So yeah, you could say that it left an impression on me. That impression just could have been a little more vampire-y.
The romance within of Vampires of El Norte is well-crafted and compelling enough to draw most readers through to the end. For vampire fans, though, there isn’t much of substance to latch onto. In the end, this wasn’t really my sort of book, but I think I would reach for it again if I’m in the mood for a nice love story. I certainly recommend it for anyone who loves a good romance with just a dash of supernatural-thriller for color.
When I saw social media buzzing last fall about the release of a new Stephen King book, I hopped on over to the Libby app to see, just for kicks, how long I’d need to wait to check out a copy of Holly. I put my name on the list for the audiobook version, then promptly forgot about it. Four months later when the notification popped up on my phone, I was juggling new-job stress with holiday plans and the three other books I was trying to read.
But since it was Stephen King, I made the time.
I came into this third book in King’s Holly Gibney trilogy not exactly cold, but definitely lukewarm. I read The Outsider (Holly Gibney #1) in 2020, but missed the second book, If It Bleeds. I also haven’t read the Bill Hodges trilogy, the one where Ms. Gibney makes her debut. So I was missing quite a bit of background info going into Holly. And while there were plenty of callbacks that I probably didn’t fully grasp, on the whole I think this book stands well on its own. The crime, the villains, and the protagonists all came together quite well to make this one of my more enjoyable reads of 2023.
It’s the summer of 2021, and Holly Gibney needs a vacation. But when a frantic woman calls, begging Holly to help find her missing daughter, Holly can’t refuse. Not only is her partner Pete out of commission thanks to Covid, but there’s also something about Bonnie Dahl’s disappearance that doesn’t add up. As she learns more about the case, Holly becomes certain that Bonnie Dahl didn’t just run away. Meanwhile, Rodney and Emily Harris, a married pair of retired college professors, conceal a sinister secret in their basement that could be linked to Bonnie’s disappearance. Despite their picture-perfect life, their research has taught them that appearances are superficial — it’s what’s inside a person that counts.
It was really lovely spending another book with Holly Gibney. I enjoyed her in The Outsider, and she didn’t disappoint here. She, a careful and germ-conscious neurodivergent woman, may have been the perfect main viewpoint character for a book set during the Covid-19 pandemic.
Before picking up Holly, I’d heard that a large portion of fans didn’t like the heavy presence of Covid and its surrounding politics in the book. Having now read it for myself, I feel the pandemic theme was handled well. Reading such a recent reality depicted in a book was somewhat jarring, to be honest, but King does an accurate job depicting the social uncertainty of those first few months after vaccinations began rolling out. I understand the King fans who would rather read something that’s not quite so close to home — I can’t deny that it feels a little soon to relive those times. As a setting, though, I found King’s 2021 America to be a faithful and empathetic snapshot of a place in time. There’s a good chance, in my opinion, that it’ll be regarded more fondly for that in the future.
The academic couple hiding a horrifying secret, the Harrises, were great villains in this. I loved the suspense and creeping horror as it becomes clear just how ruthless and sick they really are. Stephen King shines when it comes to writing antagonists. His ability to make them terrifyingly evil and very human at the same time is one of the things I’ve always admired most about his writing. Holly is just the latest great example.
This might be a five-star review, except that I did feel the action dragged a bit in the middle as the flashbacks slowly (sooooooo slowly) catch up to Holly’s investigation in the present. King is a master of suspense and tension, but his tendency to over-write can sometimes stall the narrative. But I also admire his dedication to giving his readers a true and intimate understanding of his characters—so I can’t grudge him for it much.
Now, I haven’t read a lot of recent Stephen King (Doctor Sleep and The Outsider were his only post-2001 books I’d consumed before this), but this is the first book that’s made me appreciate King’s age. His youthful characters have names like Edith and Margaret, they use such hip idioms as “gathering wool?” and they hang out in Dairy Queen parking lots. And sure, there can be kids in the current year who do those things or have those names, there’s no rule against it — but the young folks depicted in Holly don’t read like they organically sprang from their setting the way that, say, the cast of It or ‘Salem’s Lot did. Holly‘s characters still felt like living, breathing people, as Stephen King characters tend to — they just seemed a little lost in time.
For the most part, though, I thought Holly was a fun and suspenseful read. Honestly this is probably a three-star book by Stephen King standards, but to me that still makes it a four-star book when compared to most other horror out there. Reading Holly has even made me want to go back and start reading through the past books she’s appeared in, starting with Mr. Mercedes.
I didn’t have a smooth introduction to A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas. I took the recommendation of a friend to read the first book in the series, after having recently finished and LOVED another book they’d suggested — a fantasy-adventure with a romantic subplot and a moody, opulent aesthetic. I expected A Court of Thorns and Roses to be similar to that.
Instead what I got was Beauty and the Beast: Hunger Games Edition (now with 8000% more fairies!) featuring a main character who seemed incapable of interacting with a man without wanting to simultaneously murder and bang him. I was not into it.
So I decided I wasn’t going to continue the series.
Except, I kept seeing friends talk about it. I kept getting ads for T-shirts with references to it. I kept seeing it virtually everywhere that had any books for sale, and I started to wonder why A Court of Thorns and Roses seemed to slap for everyone but me.
I waded into the second book, and it turns out everyone I talked to about this series was right: it DOES get better after the first book. The action gets a lot more interesting, as does the romance plotline, and the first novel starts to feel a lot more like a setup for the really juicy stuff. The subsequent books also reinforce the good qualities I initially overlooked about the first, like how gifted Maas is at worldbuilding, and how refreshing it is to have a romance story that celebrates female sexuality rather than fetishizing virginity.
And it’s even enjoyable to see Maas’s writing become stronger over the course of the saga.
Below are my spoiler-free short reviews of each book. Disclaimer: My main genre is horror, and while I don’t dislike romances, I don’t pick them up very often — so consider this a perspective from a genre outsider.
Book 1: A Court of Thorns and Roses Rating: ⭐⭐💫/5
Feyre Archeron is the youngest daughter of an impoverished merchant, living in a small village near the border to the Fae realm. The faeries who dwell there are lethal, devious and not to be trusted. After she kills a wolf in the woods near her home, Feyre learns that not only was the wolf a Fae male in diguise, but that she will need to pay the debt by becoming a prisoner of the wolf’s lord, a mysterious masked male named Tamlin. As her fear and hate gradually transform into curiosity and passion, Feyre will learn that many of her assumptions about the Fae were wrong. But just as she’s starting to get used to this new life, she learns of the true threat to the human and Fae realms — and that some truths about the Fae are just as terrifying as the stories she grew up on.
Though my initial impressions may have caused me to judge this book too harshly, it does suffer from some serious issues. The writing style really grated on me, and I hated how often Feyre was dumb or reckless just for the sake of the plot. And the main villain was so cartoonishly, one-dimensionally evil that it was hard to take her seriously. However, the imagery throughout is strong, and Feyre does turn out to be a well-executed main character. She doesn’t just float through the story on charm, beauty and ace skills — she makes mistakes, gets in over her head, and sometimes gets seriously injured in the process, which makes her journey more believable. While I still think it’s the weakest book in the series, it does set up plenty of interesting plot points that pay off in future books.
Book 2: A Court of Mist and Fury Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5
Safe in her new life, Feyre knows she should be ready to live her happily ever after…but she can’t seem to get past the horrors she endured under The Mountain — nor can she seem to make Tamlin understand the depth of her depression. Forced to uphold her bargain to spend time in the Night Court with Rhysand, Feyre finds herself torn between two worlds: The strong, bright Spring and the brooding, relentless Night. Now, as she faces a looming evil that threatens the balance of the Human and Fae realms alike, she’ll need to face her demons head-on in order to unlock her inner power — which could be the only key to stopping what’s coming.
A Court of Mist and Fury really cranks up the heat on this series. The stakes are higher, the twists are more breathtaking, and the sex scenes are steamier. I listened to this on audiobook, and definitely caught myself stopped dead in the middle of things I was doing, just listening with my mouth open because HOLY SHIT is there a lot of amazing action in this book. Maas’s writing style is noticeably improved in this sequel, but there are still quite a few cringe-worthy phrasings, characterizations and plot holes that I felt prevented me from completely enjoying it. Still, though, that ending had me immediately ready to jump feet-first into the next book.
Book 3: A Court of Wings and Ruin Rating: ⭐⭐⭐/5
Feyre is back in the Spring Court, and with the King of Hybern threatening to invade Prythian with all his forces, one big question lingers in Feyre’s mind: is Tamlin her friend or her enemy? Games of deception and intrigue are afoot as she fights to get back to her sisters. But before she can return home, she needs to collect all the intel she can to make sure her new-found family doesn’t get swept away by the impending war.
A Court of Wings and Ruin is…fine, she said with a sigh. The story is engaging, it’s sexy in all the right places, and plotlines that have been brewing for a while do get some payoff. But I felt like Maas put all this momentum into getting all the moving pieces placed for this ultimate confrontation, then just kind of…prematurely ejaculated? Not my favorite metaphor, but that’s honestly what it felt like. She had all of these juicy plot elements ready to put into play, the payoff was gonna be so good…and then she blew the whole load in an unsatisfying manner over the course of just a few chapters. Moments that should have been tense and thrilling resolved fairly quickly in disappointing or predictable ways. And I had a big “Didn’t we just do this??” moment that really spoiled any positive feelings I may have developed in the first 3/4 of the book. But since I didn’t hate it all the way through, and since there were some enjoyable scenes and nice character developments, three stars it is.
Book 4: A Court of Frost and Starlight Rating: ⭐⭐⭐💫/5
In this holiday-themed novella, Feyre faces Winter Solstice — and her birthday — in a city traumatized by the recent war. As she juggles the challenges of leadership with the struggle of finding the right gifts for her loved ones, she’ll learn that there is a glimmer of hope in every darkness.
I really love that SJM gave her characters a little holiday special. This book certainly isn’t the most exciting, but it is the shortest, so it’s already the best one in the series. Joking aside, ACOFAS is a nice little break that gives closure on some plot points from book 3, offers some enjoyable character moments, and introduces some info to get readers excited about what’s to come. Feyre continues her tradition of making idiotic decisions, but this is the character we’ve chosen to follow through an epic saga, so. However, we won’t have to deal with too much more of her, because…
Book 5: A Court of Silver Flames Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5
After surviving the miseries of the war with Hybern, Nesta struggles to cope with her new life in Velaris. When her excesses go too far, she’s forced to move into the House of Wind where the only exit is a 10,000-step staircase. Even worse, she’ll have to undergo daily training with Cassian, the commander of Rhysand’s armies, who she’s been avoiding since the end of the war. At this point, she’s ready to give up on herself. But with a new threat looming, Nesta’s mysterious new powers may be the key to defending Prythian — once and for all.
I love it any time an author is able to get me to root for an unlikeable character, and Maas definitely got me there for Nesta in ACOSF. Before I got to this point in the series, I didn’t think I wanted to read a whole book about Nesta. However, by the end of this book, I was like, “Feyre who?” The romance plotline was fun and sexy, but I also loved the female friendships that Nesta built over the course of the story and how crucial they were to her development as a character. This would almost be a five-star book for me, except for some plot holes big enough to drive a freight train through. For the most part, though, I genuinely enjoyed returning to the world of Prythian for this story.
***
It would have been easy for me to dismiss ACOTAR as over-hyped junk, but I’m really glad I pushed past my initial impressions and kept reading — because as soapy and melodramatic as it can be, as audaciously large as some of the plot holes are, and as unabashedly horny as it is, ACOTAR does so many things right.
Unlike much of the romance genre, the characters in this series model consent, female sexual autonomy, and positive masculinity— not in every situation, but enough to be notable and refreshing.
And even though it’s a romance, it still manages to highlight and celebrate friendships between women. Those relationships aren’t just background action or devices to get the love interests together — they really matter to the plot and the development of the characters. I adore that.
Honestly, if you’ve never read the series before and are thinking about picking it up, this is what I recommend: start withA Court of Mist and Fury. This is the book that most fans seem to love best, and it’s where the “real” action of the series starts. If you like it, then treat A Court of Thorns and Roses as a prequel, and go back to get the deets on what went down between Feyre and Tamlin then. But if Book 2 doesn’t trip your trigger, then I think you can safely say that ACOTAR isn’t the series for you.
Every now and then I find myself needing to take a break from reading horror. A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas has turned out to be a perfect series for that. They weren’t my favorite books I’ve read in the past couple of years, but they were a lot of fun, and it’s safe to say that I’m hooked. I will definitely be back for book 6.
Adequate Squatch Presents 