Review of Icedancer (Velfman)

Icedancer, by Anna Velfman

“‘You seem to enjoy all these games, Chowa,’ she said without energy. ‘What does that say about you?’

”‘Best you don’t ponder that overlong.’ Chowa bowed and turned to leave. ‘You might not like the answer you arrive at.’”

Thus the Pler Series returns for a second tale of political and romantic intrigue, and it’s just as riveting as book one. Even more so, actually!

Lanna continues to shed her naïveté in this book. She hasn’t forgotten the farming village she’s left behind, though she hides it well for most of Icedancer. But she’s changed from that new Imperial who loved the headman’s son, in record time, thanks to Imperial Chemist Chowa-no-Ota. Lanna’s learned a few things about Flower Pavilion theatrics—or at least she thinks she has. As her star rises, a target grows on her back, leaving Lanna with a dangerous question: How much power does the Imperial Seer really have?

Icedancer Cover
Cover of Icedancer, Book 2 in what is now the Pler Series

The more time she spends in the palace, the more apparent it is that someone is always working in the shadows. Lanna finds one such person in Ethaan, head of the Hall of Enlightenment. He’s the only new character we actually meet besides Lanna’s assigned slave. While we also get to know Sonnatha, Itzander, Lucas and Ashioto more, the narrowed scope of Icedancer means characters like Epen, Frez and even Chowa become more peripheral.

Icedancer was refreshing in a lot of ways. The handsome emperor doesn’t get a pass just because he shows he cares and has plans to help the world (though the latter is exactly why Lanna helps him, and the former is a big part of why, despite herself, she finds herself wanting him). There’s so much more to powerful and cultured Ashioto, and Velfman (and the always formidable Lanna) never give in to girlish fancy.

Lucas, the mysterious voice only Lanna can hear, is also emerging as a very likeable and intriguing character. I’m excited to see what role he’ll play in the upcoming book. In all, another excellent book in this series with the writing to match.

To learn more about this author, visit annavelfman.com.

Review of Music of the Night (Ford)

A review of Music of the Night, by Angela J. Ford

(Note: This title is for mature readers only. Mild spoilers below.)

Phew, is it hot in here?! This is my second review of a steamy fantasy novel this month!

This romantic fantasy (with the bedroom door very, very open) is a loose retelling of The Phantom of the Opera. With a bewitching theater in a creepy castle and mysterious music floating on the night air, fans of dark fantasy and romance will want to dive right in to Music of the Night.

Music of the Night, by Angela J. Ford, book cover

Orphaned and beholden to the Count cousin who saved her, Aria lives the unglamorous life of a dancer in the Count’s theater. What she really wants to do is sing, if she had the chance—and the training. Seeking to follow in her late mother’s footsteps and avoid the Count marrying her off, Aria finds a teacher when she follows a haunting melody to a supposedly empty tower.

The chemistry between lonely and grieving Aria and the “ghost” of the tower comes on fast and strong (the author is a strong believer in insta-love). You’ll instantly mistrust the Count and never feel Aria is safe at night. It’s deeply creepy in that castle! As gristly murders begin in the castle, the tension grows and Aria’s need to escape to her new teacher becomes more dire.

In a lot of ways, Music of the Night turns the classic “prince comes to the rescue” trope right on its head; the brave knight is in need of a lot of redemption. In that element, Aria’s role pleasantly reminded me of Christine in the beloved musical. While I felt there were some unanswered questions, it’s a short and entertaining read with plenty of atmosphere and a modified fairytale ending.

To learn more about this author, visit Angela J. Ford’s website.

Review of Avalanche (Velfman)

A Review of Avalanche, by Anna Velfman
(Note: I received a free copy in exchange for an honest review. This book also contains mature content and allusions to non-consentual encounters.)
 
Lanna of the Clans is back–or at least she would be, if life at the palace didn’t have her so confused. This hard-hitting third installment of what used to be the Pler Trilogy brings readers a more introspective Lanna alongside true science-fantasy and an impeccable balance of action and character development. On top of that, it’s an excellent and binge-able read.
 
The main cause of the Southerner-turned-Imperial seer’s confusion is handsome Emperor Ashioto, who Lanna must marry after a period of seclusion. Nothing is black and white about their relationship. Ashioto can be tender and caring, yet dangles the fate of her old friend Mika, and the village she and Lanna came from, as bait whenever he wants something from her (and those things are never small). Still, Lanna is drawn to him and conflicted about her plans to bring down the Empire. Her background in the Machiavellian South doesn’t help that either. If Ashioto is cruel, it’s just a reminder that Southerners aren’t meant to bond anyway.
Avalanche (cover shown here) arrives November 20, 2021

A steamy scene very early in the book (there’s no dawdling in Avalanche, and the bedroom door is open) leaves Lanna to reckon with the truth: she’s sold herself to the Emperor, just as Lucas, the Augmented voice of reason who is literally in her head, warned her she would. Lanna has a price, and as she begins to question what she thought she wanted, we see her greatest development as a character.

As promised by Icedancer (review forthcoming) it’s also her biggest play for agency, even as the forces against her true freedom prove stronger and more calculating than she’d guessed. She’s also in her own way: forced into the position of sacrificial lamb, Avalanche takes time to ask what Lanna is worth to herself.
 
This, combined with her increasingly heart-warming relationship with Lucas, makes Avalanche Velfman’s most character-driven book yet. Given that Lanna is in seclusion, that seems natural–but the constant action and complications are unexpected and wonderful surprises. There is no shortage of action or plot twists in this book, even as Lanna’s character is fleshed out into the fifth dimension. We learn more about the midlands, too, as Lanna’s concerns stretch ever further from the Flower Hall. Even Chowa, who is mostly absent in the book, gets a fresh look.
 
Avalanche also lands firmly in science-fantasy territory (at last!). Gone are the teasers of another civilization; readers learn a whole lot more about where Lucas came from and how their world functions (hint: it involves more than a little tech). Both technology and its breakdown are to be feared in the Pler Series, as the marvels of that civilization behind the curtain may prove to be horrors for Lanna. Absolutely nothing in her world is simple.
 
This is one of the many reasons why I finished the book wishing I had the next title in the series already. Once again, I’m left eagerly awaiting whatever Lanna (and the charming Lucas) does next.

To learn more about this author, visit her website, annavelfman.com.

Review of The Daughter of Earth (Pey)

A Review of The Daughter of Earth, by Callie Pey

The Daughter of Earth (The Dryad Chronicles #1), by Callie Pey (romantic Fantasy, Steamy fantasy; 2021)

(Note: I received a free copy in exchange for an honest review. This title is for mature readers only.)

This is an engaging, extremely steamy story (with fated mate context) that reads quickly. Yes, a little too quickly at times (and yes there are copy editing issues), but the story and other raw materials are all there, which counts for more to me (and is harder to achieve). If you feel the same and like a good portal fantasy adventure, you’ll enjoy The Daughter of Earth, too. (Note that a late scene involves unwanted contact and may be triggering.)

The storytelling starts at a break-neck pace that was too quick for me. 2 1/2 to 3 chapters in, it slows and lets the characters develop (while remaining fairly fast). Melissa is dropped through a portal just as everything is going wrong, and her reactions are sometimes lost in the swift pacing. I did feel like I wanted to hear her thoughts more, especially as she meets a blur of characters. Some you’ll get to know and love, like Cassie, but others remain in the periphery, like Ferox.

Daughter of Earth, by Callie Pey, book cover autumn graphic

As the pacing eases, Melissa finds more acceptance with her new friends, the Watchtowers, than she found in all her years on Earth. She doesn’t have to justify herself to them or explain her past. They’re like the perfect found family, though they expect her to learn to defend herself. In response to their warmth, Melissa develops a drive to be useful, repaying kindness with service. She also finds love, which is another area where the story really shines.

The MFM romance in The Daughter of Earth is graphic but sex positive, and wonderfully nuanced. I really liked the sweetly awkward early advances of Kelan, who is drawn to MC Melissa and can’t stay away (as a wood elf, he’s pretty fixated on presenting her with his “credentials”), and that her brief interactions with satyr Graak are like a one night stand that leaves both of them confused and hurt. The gods brought the three of them together, and not everybody’s happy about it. I can’t say enough good things about that dynamic.

Throughout the story, Melissa grows in every way possible. We see her go from an orphaned and powerless woman on Earth who’s reduced to an object to a physically strong one who fights monsters and makes her own family. With a world of dryads, nymphs, elves, fae and satyrs, The Daughter of Earth has familiar world-building with a modern twist. The ending was satisfying, too—though I’m already wondering what happens next, thanks in part to one heck of a preview for book two!

All in all, this is a great, unpolished gem of a romantic fantasy yarn.

To learn more about this author, visit her Facebook page or follow her on Instagram (@calliepeyauthor).

Review of Phoenix Heart: Ashes

Phoenix Heart Episode One #1 Ashes Review Graphic

I’m so pleased to see more books coming out with disabled and chronically ill protagonists these days. Phoenix Heart: Season 1, Episode 1: Ashes (yes, a mouthful, but these novellas are being released episodically) has a wonderfully realistic heroine in Sersha, a mute teen at the mercy of her inn-running family. Sersha, whose troubles will feel familiar to many chronically ill/disabled readers, worries about her place in the world, how she’s perceived and what will happen when her family can’t support her any longer.

Ashes can easily be consumed in one sitting (though I recommend savoring Wilson’s emotional writing, if you can stand not seeing what comes next). It follows Phoenix Hope, a free short story available to the author’s mailing list subscribers. I highly recommend reading Phoenix Hope, too, possibly before sitting down with Ashes (the moving story of Sersha’s unlucky patients upstairs at the inn, when their ill-fated journey began).

Phoenix Heart Season 1 Episode 1: Ashes Cover
Cover of Season 1, Episode 1: Ashes

When Sersha finds herself the unwitting friend of grieving phoenix named Kazmarev (described as “A name with an adventure inside it”), for once, someone knows exactly what Sersha wants to say. She identifies with Kazmarev, but has no idea what’s in store for her, or that flame riders even exist.

When Kazmarev perishes with the dawn, Sersha assumes her own brief adventure is over. “It was like owning a pearl necklace for a day. Couldn’t you just enjoy it instead of being angry that you couldn’t keep it?” Sersha asks herself. She then returns to her precarious, uninteresting life helping her relatives at the inn—just as raiders arrive on the nearby shore.

Ashes shows Sersha, an overlooked young woman and a keen observer, finding an unexpected place in the world, and unexpected friends—both of which put her at the heart of the action. Though there is a complete story arc in Season 1, Episode 1, it’s clear her adventures are just beginning.

Phoenix Heart promises to be a relatively expensive series, which makes me want to ration each episode (readers who get in on the pre-orders will get a better price; as of writing, the first episode of season 2 still up for pre-order). Though uniformly short, the length of each episode varies. The bother comes because I’d love to consume them all at once without worry about the cost. Still, I look forward to reading more of Sersha and Kazmarev’s adventures, even if I wish they could each last—even just a tiny bit—longer.

To learn more about this author, visit Sarah K.L. Wilson’s website.

Review of When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain (Vo)

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain

Vo (The Chosen and the Beautiful) is another repeat author for me. When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain follows The Empress of Salt and Fortune, though one could easily be read before the other.

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain is the story of stories. Protagonist Chih, a cleric from the Singing Hills Abbey, is on their way, via a young mammoth and her handler, to collect more stories and make records of events when they’re met by three hungry (and angry) tiger sisters. Agreeing to tell a story of the tigers’ choosing in exchange for their lives, Chih is forced to tell a loaded story—one the tigers warn her not to get wrong too often.

when the tiger came down the mountain small cover image
Cover of When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain, by Nghi Vo

The tiger’s version, however, disagrees on many key details and even in “the best part,” as one tiger sister puts it. As Chih tries to navigate the differences between the human and tiger version of a famous story of Ahn (filled with LGBTQ characters, love and ghosts), this swift and lyrical novella captivated me as much or more than The Empress of Salt and Fortune.

Vo’s lyrical writing and the series’ captivating take on legends from across Asia continue to be like nothing else I’ve ever read. The plot, hinging on two versions of one story, made me think about the spaces between the two and the life-changing effects of storytelling. The wistful ending also made me long for a book three all the more, so I could see what stories Chih learns next.

To learn more about this author, visit Nghi Vo’s website.

Review: Velvet Was the Night (Moreno-Garcia)

Velvet Was the Night

I have something shocking to tell you. I read a book that does not contain magic!

Gasp.

That gasp is fitting for another reason: Velvet Was the Night lives in an interesting space between noir and historical fiction. Written by the author of Gods of Jade and Shadow (a heart-breaking favorite of mine) and Mexican Gothic (one of the best plot-twists I’ve read in a long time), this book’s atmosphere is relentlessly gloomy, full of the violent political underworld of one protagonist and dreams of Aztec sacrifice and dramatic romance in the jungle from the other.

Neither young protagonist of Velvet Was the Night have much of a future. There is El Elvis, an early-twenties (ish?) local tough taken in by a charismatic leader of the Hawks, a covert suppression group in late-1960s-early 1970s Mexico, and Maite, a deeply lonely secretary with money problems and an obsession with romantic comic books.

Velvet Was the Night Small Cover
Cover of Velvet Was the Night, by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Maite also loves pilfering items from her unsuspecting neighbors, specifically because she’ll have a piece of their (better, in her imagination) lives. For Maite, part of the thrill of having a stolen object—everything from a single earring to a statue of a saint—is knowing her neighbor will never miss it.

Attention-starved and cash-strapped, she is easily pulled into her beautiful neighbor Leonora’s life when asked to watch her cat last minute. When Leonora doesn’t return and things get fishy, Maite gets sucked deeper into the mystery of her neighbor and a missing camera. Elvis, meanwhile, searches for both from the other side. Elvis and Maite are on a collision course, the depiction of which will feel pleasantly familiar for fans of Gods of Jade and Shadow.

Despite the violence of Elvis and the casual but elaborate lies of Maite, neither character is unsympathetic (though Maite crosses the line into pathetic for much of the book). Neither Elvis or Maite have families you could call supportive, or even nice, so it keeps them from being unlikable, if not particularly likeable, either. Maite is full of negative self-talk wants reality to be lovely and syrupy, and Elvis longs to earn the sophistication of his cultured leader, El Mago. The two characters earn the reader’s sympathy through their missteps.

Though I found the search for Maite’s rebellious, privileged neighbor wasn’t quite enough to sustain the whole book, as usual, Moreno-Garcia’s writing is wonderful and her characters are unforgettable. Read it on a rainy day, when you don’t mind sinking in to a bit of gloom; skip it if you need your mood to be brighter. But if you choose to go along for this book’s occasionally drawn out ride, the strangely moving, reservedly hopeful ending will leave you glad you did.

To learn more about this author, visit Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s website.

Review: Ariadne (Saint)

Ariadne, by Jennifer Saint, Review Graphic

Oh, Ariadne. Not quite the hero you were advertised to be, and not forgettable, either. This story is uneven but has the ability to truly move the reader.

That’s because Ariadne the book contains beautiful, emotional prose and some aggravating plot points. This female-centered retelling of the Theseus and the Minotaur Greek myth was not what I expected. If you are also expecting a feminist retelling (as I did from the first few chapters), there are hints of that—often whole segments of it—but Ariadne and her sister Phaedra, two powerless princesses of Crete, never become the heroes of their own tale. This is a retelling sparing of no one, with the unforgiving nature of ancient Greece’s views on women (and perhaps on all women in general) on full display.

Ariadne ultimately portrays a woman who’s content with being a wife and mother—something not often featured in fantasy novels or myth retellings. As a child, she tries to see the human side of her half-bull brother, who becomes an infamous monster, caring for him as her mother did and illustrating her tender nature; yet she’s also willing to help Theseus kill Asterion to save herself. Though she debates about doing it, she acts swiftly when it’s asked of her.

Abandoned on Naxos and fearing both her father and the backlash of her betrayal, Ariadne commits to a life as Bacchus’s “priestess,” securing a safe place for herself. She later shares her home isle of Naxos with women escaping their lot in life, who live in peace on Bacchus’s isle.

Her sister Phaedra, on the other hand, becomes a true stateswoman (by convincing the men of Athens that she’s only sitting in for her husband, Theseus, who’s always off doing “heroic” deeds). She suffers from postpartum depression, which is written with convincing and sensitive detail.

However, Phaedra’s conclusion that she can’t really form an attachment to her sons because they resemble their father waters this down: her depression becomes a product of her hatred for her husband. Her political future goes down the drain when she insists on caring for her firstborn herself, so she can hide that she doesn’t love her baby. This, in turn, isolates her and makes her despair all the more. She’s stretched thin and becomes emotionally brittle, no longer the strong-willed and level-headed girl who wanted to save the tributes from Athens.

The men of the book are greedy, self-centered and often cruel, though nobody’s hands stay clean in the story (then again, it is a Greek myth). I kept rooting for Ariadne to be her own person for longer than a couple chapters, but alas, the origin story was against her. (For a different take, I highly recommend The King Must Die, by Mary Renault.) It can be jarring, though, comparing Ariadne’s moment of action to the rest of the book. By the time she chooses to act again, she’s clearly out of practice.

I wanted more from this book, but at the same time, I’m glad I read it. That’s because of the beautiful writing. The early chapters read like a crash-course in mythology, which can be slow at times, but enforces the message that women always pay the price for men’s deeds or other women’s jealousy. While that may be important to read—and again, Jennifer Saint’s writing!—it can also be trying.

To learn more about this author, visit jennifersaint.com.

Review: Throne of Glass (Maas)

Throne of Glass, by Sarah J. Maas, Review Graphic

This was not 100% my kind of book…yet I found myself reading it for hours on end!

At 18, Celaena Sardothien is the Queen of the Underworld, the most accomplished assassin in Adarlan and a prisoner at the Endovier death camp. She’s physically weak and scarred—but mentally she’s unbroken. Her mantra is “I will not be afraid.” Yet when the son of the King she hates arrives with an offer to win a place as the King’s Champion, it’s one she can’t refuse. It’s a miracle she’s survived a year in Endovier as it is.

Life at the palace isn’t easy. Celaena is torn about working for the man who cost her everything, but has few alternatives. Surrounded by guards at all times and with the threat of being sent back to Endovier hanging over her, she must face other champions in a series of tests, and there are some very strange markings on the castle grounds. Those markings prove to be Wyrdmarks, symbols with strange properties no one can quite agree on, in a kingdom where magic is outlawed.

Things get trickier still when she meets the ghost of Elena, a long-dead queen of Adarlan. She has a message for Celaena, and naturally it’s a cryptic one.

The early part of the story reads like more traditional fantasy, with a stony protagonist skilled with weapons ready to square off with injustice. It proves far more nuanced than that, thankfully, and conflicted characters abound. Throne of Glass walks the line between multiple fantasy genres, so can appeal to many types of fantasy readers.

Technically, Throne of Glass is impeccably written. Celaena’s story is riveting, too, with a highly skilled assassin who ends up as an underdog because of physical and political circumstances. Though I wasn’t sold on the premise early on, it had an uncanny ability to keep me wondering what happened next.

Since I love monsters and paranormal elements in fantasy, I really got absorbed in the story once Elena entered the picture. The Wyrdmarks are creepy and fascinating, and I am team Chaol all the way. A female protagonist who is notably arrogant, not to mention equal parts skilled and confident (perhaps overconfident, given her uphill battle to return to her old Adarlan’s assassin form…but just a little) was different and refreshing.

This is partly because, strong and unbreakable as she is, Celaena has a softer side, too (she loves books and dogs, after all!). She cries at times and has traumatic memories she can’t allow herself to think about. I felt that she could do anything, but was please that her story involved so many understandable struggles. There were no half-hearted challenges here or hero’s problems that were actually easy to overcome. Celaena is a strong woman who still needed–and could accept–help.

I can see why so many people love this series! There is the promise of more magic (though Wyrdmarks are somehow outside of it) and multiverse involvement, plus those paranormal plotlines. Though I thought the climax to be a bit drawn out, it allowed all Celaena’s strengths and weaknesses to come together. I also wanted to shake her a few times (of course you should figure out where that scent is coming from, Celaena!), but that’s a sign of how deeply invested I was in her story.

I look forward to seeing what Celaena Sardothien will do next, and what (or should that be who?) she’ll turn out to be.

To learn more about this author, visit her website at sarahjmaas.com

Review: The Poppy War (Kuang)

The Poppy War, by R.F. Kuang, Review Graphic

Warning: Moderate spoilers ahead. This book also requires several trigger warnings.

“War doesn’t determine who’s right. War determines who remains,” says Fang Runin (“Rin”), heroine of The Poppy War, long before the horrors of war reach her. Her journey is jarring, unexpected and progressively darker in this remarkable but flawed book.

Early in The Poppy War, Rin’s journey takes on a (far grittier and a lot less magical) Harry Potter-like quality as she enters Sinegard, Nikan’s top military academy. Rin becomes a student through ridiculously hard work, self-harm (she uses hot wax to keep herself awake as she crams for the national exam) and against the odds. She’s a war orphan living with a family of opium dealers, and her only way out of an unwanted marriage is to pass the exam and go to school. She aims for Sinegard, where only the best and brightest go, because it does not require tuition.

“The creation of the empire requires conformity and uniform obedience. It requires teachings that can be mass-produced across the entire county.”

–Jiang in The Poppy War, explaining why shamanism has all but died out in Nikan

The girl nobody expected to reach Sinegard, let alone succeed there, ends up on a strange path. Forced out of martial arts class, where she is woefully unprepared, she tries to teach herself, a move that earns her the notice of the mostly absent lore teacher Jiang.

The relationship between Jiang and Rin is unexpectedly beautiful. The eccentric master, brushed off as a madman by most people, opens the door for her to the true nature of things. Rin is the rare student who learns how to be a shaman, which involves psychedelic drugs, meditation, the existence of Nikan’s natural gods and the ability to call down their power. The girl who despised the opium addicts in her hometown changes her tune when she realizes those drugs can help her get power.

And Rin is obsessed with just that. Filled with anger and a drive for vengeance, she quickly becomes entangled with the Phoenix, a dangerous god with all-consuming power. The more powerful she becomes, the more power she desires—and that begins to scare her.

As war arrives in Nikan via the Japanese-like Mugen Federation, Rin’s days of struggle become idyllic by comparison. Author R.F. Kuang, a modern Chinese history scholar, includes deeply disturbing factual incidents when she writes about war, particularly from the Rape of Nanjing. There’s no humanity in her depiction of war, and Rin responds accordingly.

The writing and storytelling in The Poppy War is superb. Even so, it becomes difficult to read, though she handles the subject matter more sensitively than many fantasy authors. I had to think twice about whether I want to continue with the series, and wondered whether including selective parts of history is a disservice. The topic of comfort women, for example, is given a single scene, in a single location, that does not at all capture the systematic nature of sexual slavery by Japanese forces in World War II. One book (even a history book) couldn’t possibly encapsulate all the horrors and events. It’s my personal feeling that, in fantasy, there needs to be a wider gap between history and imagined worlds than this, so that victims’ real life suffering isn’t used as a plot element or given a perfunctory nod.

The evolution of Rin’s character also makes me reluctant to continue reading. Rin’s quote about war proves both prophetic and oversimplified. Her character becomes unpalatable through the choices she makes and how she justifies them (not to mention that she uses her abilities in a senseless way; there were other, more precise options that would have achieved her goals and still granted her vengeance, but that is barely discussed). If I continue reading the series, it will be in the hope that Rin can claw her way back toward some semblance of redemption and sanity—but that would be hard to believe.

To learn more about this author, visit rfkuang.com.