I’m not big on modern romance stories. There needs to be some point of tension beyond “we work together at the office” for me to be invested. So while I knew of Ali Hazelwood, I wasn’t very interested in reading any of her work. Then they announced The Love Hypothesis is getting a movie adaptation with Lili Reinhart, one of my Hollywood crushes, and I said, okay, fuck it, let’s read The Love Hypothesis.

Thank god I did, because this book had a grin plastered on my face the whole week. I couldn’t wait to read it after work every day. It was addicting.

The Love Hypothesis follows Olive, a quirky and hardworking grad student with a bad people-pleasing problem. She wants her friend Anh to be happy with Olive’s ex-date, so she lies about having a new date and then kisses the first man she sees to prove to Anh that she’s happy with someone else. The man she kisses is, of course, the famously mean-spirited Professor Adam Carlsen. Thus begins the romcom fake-dating saga with an academic twist.

I was happy to find the university setting wasn’t just a fancy backdrop for another predictable plot, but was actually a very important part of the story. Her public relationship with a professor has real consequences. Advancing her research moves the plot forward. I was a Zoology major my first three years of college (God only knows why) and while I obviously never made it to grad school, I recognized the types of people Olive was surrounded by: competitive, gossipy, nervous, and exhausted.

Olive and Adam have an undeniable chemistry. Love in fiction is difficult to write and even more difficult to believe, especially when your only medium is words. But Hazelwood nailed the wholesome, awkward crush. The believability was in the little things: Olive smiling at his texts, hanging on his little phrases in case they meant something more, and trying to focus when Adam took up her entire mind. Adam, too, was a charming dork with an understandable reason for his asshole persona. The romance was adorable. My partner caught me smiling at my book and asked if it was cute, and I sighed and answered, “Yes, yes it is so cute.” (I’m happy they didn’t see my reaction to chapter 16 when I had to close the book and kick my feet in glee.)

I especially enjoyed Olive’s characterization. Though it’s never explicitly stated, she seems to be on the asexual spectrum, which you very rarely see from romance protagonists (or any protagonist, really). She gets anxious easily but is mature enough to calm herself down with logic. She’s closed off to others, afraid to love, and dedicated to her work, but she’s far from unkind.

As for criticisms, some of the humor didn’t land for me. It’s the age old generational divide, I think. Hazelwood is a millennial and I’m Gen Z, and her quirky humor is not the same as my quirky humor, and some of it was a little cringeworthy (like the use of crappity). It was the same type of lovable-but-awkward approach that Disney has stuck to the last few years (Tangled, Frozen, Moana, Wish) and I find that type of humor grating.

The side characters were pretty one dimensional. Olive’s best friends, Anh and Guy Whose Name I Can’t Even Remember, had two personality traits each. They’re described as ambitious but I have no idea what either of them were researching, what they were working towards, or why they were in higher academia. There’s a villain that’s introduced towards the middle of the book, and I’m still not sure what his goals were.

Otherwise, I think The Love Hypothesis was a pretty solid story.

It wouldn’t be a TLH review without mentioning that this story was originally fan fiction (by Hazelwood) of Kylo Ren and Rey from the Star Wars sequels…which is something I didn’t really mind, but I know that ship stirs some polarizing reactions. Take from that what you will. Another polarizing tidbit: the book contains one graphic sex scene in the end, so don’t read if you’re not a fan!

I’m excited to read more from Hazelwood. I’ve heard good things about her other STEM romances (Love on the Brain, and Love, Theoretically) and her YA chess romance Check & Mate. Maybe I’ll drop more reviews of her work soon, if I ever chew through my current TBR pile…

Star Rating: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Current reads: The Jasad Heir by Sara Hashem // There Is No Antimemetics Department by QNTM

This was my first winter living in New York, and of course it was the coldest winter the city has had in years. But with the snow outside my window and a hot mug of tea in my hand, I managed to finish six books this snowy season—some better than others.

It’s interesting to me that three of these books were centered around eating in some form. I’ve recently recovered from an eating problem (not quite disorder, it wasn’t that serious), and while my body is much healthier now, I’m still getting used to the way I look in the mirror. I guess a part of me subconsciously chose these books to explore the changes I’ve been facing in my own life.

Without further ado, here are the six books I read from December 15th - February 15th.

The Vegetarian by Han Kang
☆☆☆☆☆

“Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.”

I’d had The Vegetarian on my radar for some time. It’s popular on BookTok (the horror and weird-lit side, at least) and I finally bought and read a copy. It was not at all what I expected.

The synopsis is simple—a woman chooses to go vegetarian. This decision spirals into bizarre events as the people around her try to assert control over her body and her decisions. It’s unnerving, uncomfortable, and fascinating. For anyone worried about animal violence (given the name and genre), there is only one scene you should worry about, towards the middle of the book, in a childhood flashback.

The characters are all immensely dislikeable, which was the point. The book’s main theme is control, whether that’s sexually, familial, through marriage, patriarchy, or gender. The ending is surreal and a little confusing, but if you’re a fan of magical surrealism, this one is for you. It’s a quick read, too.

Though I give it five stars for its excellent prose and unique concepts, I’m not sure I can say this book really stuck with me.

TWs: sexual assault, brief animal violence, domestic violence

Spread Me by Sarah Gailey
☆☆☆

“Exhaustion, she realizes, is only unpleasant when one has to resist it. But when succumbing is an option—when everything is still and quiet and there’s no reason to push the strong arms of sleep away—exhaustion is ecstasy.”

If I had to pitch this book, it would be “The Thing, but make it sexy”—which the book itself repeatedly beats you over the head with. (The characters must put a dollar in a jar every time one of them references John Carpenter’s The Thing, which gets old very fast.)

A team of queer researchers, isolated in the desert, uncover a strange specimen. The specimen, and the virus it carries, take a sexual interest in one of the researchers. As the characters start to succumb to the virus one by one, Kinsey (the researcher of interest) must decide whether her mutual attraction to the virus is worth dooming the whole world.

The mystery was enough to keep my interest, but the characters are forgettable and flat. The book simply isn’t long enough to fully explore most of the themes it presents, leaving me feeling dissatisfied. Still, it’s a wild and entertaining ride. I recommend it to people who enjoy explorations of sex in fiction and weird-core plots.

Overall, I can’t say this book stuck with me, either, and I finished it feeling very meh about it.

TWs: sexual content, body horror & gore, mentions of suicide

Cannibalism: A Perfectly Natural History by Bill Schutt
☆☆☆.5

“There is no definitive answer as to why cannibalism provides us with such stimulation, although what is clear, and what remains extremely disturbing for me, is our increasing desensitization to violence and gore - a trait that does not bode well for the future.”

If you’ve spoken to me at all in the last two months, you’ll have heard me list strange and unnerving cannibalism facts. That’s because of this book.

Bill Schutt takes his readers on a wild journey from the bizarre behaviors of invertebrates to the controversy around humanity’s history (or, lack thereof) with ritualistic cannibalism. The first half of the book, where he focuses on the animal kingdom, was much more interesting to me. Did you know it’s not actually that common for female black widow spiders to eat their sexual partners? Or that some fish accidentally swallow their newborns??

In the latter half of the book, Schutt tackles the debate on whether or not ritualistic cannibalism actually occurred among humans anywhere in the world. As an Indigenous person, this half of the book fell flat for me and I slogged through it. This was a topic he clearly struggled with and I wish he’d just left it out of the book instead of trying to spotlight ‘every side’ of the issue, with the leading voices on ‘every side’ being white anthropologists. Indigenous people are tired of being research subjects. Stick to the bugs and the crabs, dude.

I recommend reading the first half and skipping the rest.

TWs: discussions of racism & colonialism, graphic descriptions of violence, cannibalism (duh)

Paper Doll by Dylan Mulvaney
☆☆☆☆

“As for the other bad thoughts, well . . . I’m gonna go ahead and forgive myself because I was in some shitty situations. I did my best. It wasn’t always enough. I’m still here.”

I’ve already posted the full review (that you can find here), but I’ll add that I really enjoyed Mulvaney’s memoir. It comes with essays, fun graphics, and lots of interpersonal growth. What’s not to love?

Mistborn: The Hero of Ages by Brandon Sanderson
☆☆☆.5

“Somehow, we'll find it. The balance between whom we wish to be and whom we need to be. But for now, we simply have to be satisfied with who we are.”

I’ve loved reading the Mistborn trilogy, but something about this final book felt off to me.

It was still enjoyable, of course. I loved the cast of characters (TenSoon and Sazed, my boys), the worldbuilding was always fascinating, and the cryptic writings each chapter opens with have always been my favorite parts. The conclusion felt satisfying, and I’m definitely interested in reading the sequel series, Wax & Wayne.

But there was something about The Hero of Ages that felt rushed to me. The dialogue has always had cheesy moments, especially between the main cast, but the dialogue in this book felt wholly awkward at times. Vin and Elend were especially inconsistent. It seems like Sanderson tried wrapping up Vin’s character arc by having her think about her past and scenes from previous books, which would’ve been fine had he chosen the right moments for her to do so. Instead, Vin was thinking about dresses and her social standing during high-stakes tactical missions. I don’t remember this being normal for her, and it felt out of place, almost like the inner monologues were added last minute.

Still, I would recommend Mistborn to anyone interested in fantasy. I’ve heard great things about Wax & Wayne, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that series lands for me.

TWs: suicide, torture, child death

The Glutton by AK Blakemore
☆☆☆☆.5

”Strange, she thinks, perhaps even perverse, that we are denied the measure of ourselves that we may take of others.”

After swallowing a golden fork, a man becomes insatiable no matter what or how much he eats. As legends of him spread across France, readers get to hear his side of the story. Did he really eat live animals? And did he really eat a baby?

Both coming of age story and horror novel, The Glutton easily became my favorite read this season. The author follows the styles of Cormac McCarthy and Sally Rooney, and leaves quotation marks behind. Combined with the lyrical prose and wide cast of characters, this would’ve been very confusing had I not reread some pages a few times.

The protagonist, Tarare (based off a real person, by the way), is hopeful, naive, and kind, which makes his journey both heartbreaking and frustrating. It was exceptionally well written. This book did stick with me, and I recommend it to anyone who enjoys literary fiction or dark themes.

TWs: domestic violence, animal death, child death, references to anti-semitism, sexual content

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you read anything interesting this snowy season by leaving a comment below! I’ll be back again in May with a spring reading wrap-up. Stay tuned!

Spoiler-free review.

Gender nonconforming people have always been targeted, but the 2020s introduced a powerful trans panic—nationwide discourse on transgender sports, Facebook transvestigators, dozens of front-page articles about ‘the transgenders,’ and the president that over half of Americans voted for claiming that the left will ensure “transgender for everyone.”

It is of note, and of no surprise, that every one of these topics centered on transwomen and not transmen. Transwomen (especially Black transwomen) have always been more likely to be victims of targeted violence than cis women. The rhetoric against them was clear: transwomen were either delusional or malicious men in disguise, peeking through the toilet stalls or beating up young girls on the soccer field. And these discourses weren’t just a culture war distraction—they have had a real impact on people’s lives.

“In January, Trump’s executive orders targeting transgender people ordered the Federal Bureau of Prisons and Department of Homeland Security to force transgender women into men’s prisons and detention centers, ignoring safety guidelines, and withdraw medically-necessary care, putting more than 2,000 incarcerated trans people at high risk of abuse. The order also blocked transgender and intersex people from updating sex markers on new passports, visas, and trusted traveler documents, effectively outing them and limiting their ability to travel.” (ACLU, Trump, Immigration, Trans Rights: The Stories That Shaped 2025, December 18, 2025)

This initial trans panic was around the time that trans influencer Dylan Mulvaney partnered with Bud Light to promote their product. Boycotts ensued. Kid Rock filmed himself shooting Bud Light cans. Bomb threats were called. You’d think Dylan had said something awful or that she’d drop-kicked someone’s newborn baby, but all the fuss was over her identity. The public did not like that Bud Light had ‘endorsed woke.’ Dylan’s existence, like the existence of all transwomen, was not only open to debate—it was cause for anger, hatred, and violence.

In her new memoir, Paper Doll, Mulvaney discusses ‘beergate,’ her journey to womanhood, and the influx of harassment she faced just for living her truth.

@dylanmulvaney

Dylan Mulvaney on Instagram: "I CANT BELIEVE IT!!! Best day eve…

Paper Doll is half diary entries and half essays from pre- and post-Beergate. The diary entries are accompanied by cute graphics reminiscent of books like Dork Diaries or Diary of a Wimpy Kid, but with a more feminine and adult art style.

Mulvaney doesn’t hold anything back, and as someone unfamiliar with her TikTok career, I felt like I really got to know her as a person. She is optimistic and kind, and at once believed—self-admittedly a little naively—that anyone can change, even the bigots who left nasty comments on her videos. In the beginning, she showed as much of her transition and personality as possible with the hope that people would get to know her and change their minds. Though she struggled through Beergate, she still tried to hold onto her values and kindness, and that is a remarkable thing.

The memoir discusses her sometimes rocky relationship with her parents and the difficult path to acceptance in her family. She writes about navigating sex and dating, her relationship with God and spirituality, managing her dark thoughts, and how she is still learning all the small parts of womanhood (like always carrying a tampon for other women in need). Her personality and humor shine through each page, though she admits she isn’t the world’s greatest writer, and there were some pages I thought could use some more editing—though it was in no way unreadable.

Some of her critics have pointed out her immense privilege as a white woman, and their frustrations at Mulvaney being a posterchild for transwomen that was never nominated. Her journey, too, is considered unrealistic by most. She acknowledges her privileges in Paper Doll and approaches these conversations with respect for her critics and a humility that is rarely found nowadays, even following and reaching out to thank some of the creators who made videos criticizing her. But she is imperfect and privileged, and for readers wanting a more realistic trans path/narrative, Paper Doll might not be for them.

While the book’s diary entries are spur-of-the-moment reactions, its essays are slower and more thoughtful, really letting the audience sit with Mulvaney’s points and experiences. She introduces a wide cast of characters—from her parents to then President Joe Biden—and it’s her interactions with others that really drive her story.

Overall, the book is entertaining, heartfelt, and incredibly timely. Though Mulvaney admits to not having a strong writing background, I still found the prose engaging and poignant, and with over 60-80% of nonfiction books ghostwritten, I will always support authors who’ve actually authored their own works.

There will always be another Beergate, another Riley Gaines, and more Fox News anchors cashing in on bigotry. But I still hope for a future where transwomen can peacefully exist within society without having to defend themselves, without having to fear for their lives, and without being made a public spectacle.

Star rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

The literary sphere sometimes feels like it has two rooms: an unlocked and easily accessible space with plenty of seating and cheap snacks labeled genre fiction; and the locked literary fiction room with a guest list, fancy couches, and tiny food on tiny plates. People who read regularly usually bounce between the rooms—that is to say, they enjoy books of most genres and styles—but some people in the literary fiction room refuse to leave their couches. Thus, they have only ever read what is considered acceptable lit fic. Only recently has horror been able to grace this room (with Tender is the Flesh and The Vegetarian, two great novels that everyone should read, as my prime examples), and even then, some argue that these books “aren’t really horror, but a meditation on [grief] [womanhood] [gender]” and therefore above the genre, because horror = cheap jumpscares, excessive blood, and poor writing.

I’m here to tell you that you’re thinking of horror wrong, and to try to tempt you to leave your fancy couch.

Author Douglas Winter wrote in his 1982 anthology Prime Evil, “Horror is not a genre, like the mystery or science fiction or the western. It is not a kind of fiction, meant to be confined to the ghetto of a special shelf in libraries or bookstores. Horror is an emotion.” The Horror Writers Association (HWA) follows this definition and states in their article ‘What is Horror Fiction?’:

“Horror has once again become primarily about emotion. It is once again writing that delves deep inside and forces us to confront who we are, to examine what we are afraid of, and to wonder what lies ahead down the road of life.” 1

We’ll be moving forward with this context of horror as an emotion.

It’s hard to scare readers in a way that sticks. You can’t just gross them out—real horror lingers in your mind afterwards, and that feeling of dread doesn’t leave you easily. Horror movies can get away with jump scares and fake blood. Horror novels can’t. To truly unnerve someone with only words, you have to dig deeper. Jamie Nash explains that horror stories always have a ‘sin,’ usually committed by the heroes, that adds an extra layer of nuance to the tale. (Nash, 2025)

“Believe it or not,” Nash writes, “the sin is actually what keeps horror from being cynical…In nihilistic stories, evil just happens, and then you die…too bad! Life stinks. But when the sin is responsible for the bad, there’s an understandable logic. A lesson. Some glimmer of hope. Because even if everyone dies, the audience goes away thinking, ‘Hey, well, at least justice is served and we’re safe so long as we don’t commit that sin.’”2 (Nash, 2025)

Horror novelists only have one tool. To elicit a fear of discomfort, dread, or shock with only lines on a page is an underappreciated feat, and to balance that with moral lessons, interpersonal conflicts, and societal critiques makes horror, for me, one of the most moving genres in the literary landscape. Stephen King’s The Shining isn’t really about the haunted hotel, William Peter Blatty’s The Exorcist isn’t really about the demon, and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein isn’t really about a ‘monster.’ These texts use horror as a means to paint another picture, all while disturbing their audiences for generations to come.

Like any genre, horror has some clunkers. There are low effort and high shock value texts (commonly called splatterpunk) that don’t offer any sin or deeper meaning, and exist only in horror’s most basic form: to elicit an emotion of discomfort. I’ve never found splatterpunk to be scary. Graphic descriptions of violence with little to no plot or deeper meaning are like an empty plate of ketchup; all sauce and no substance. These texts still meet the definition of horror as an emotion, but are the equivalent of Taco Bell leftovers. Still, to reject an entire genre because of a few bad apples is to deprive yourself of some of the most creative and talented writers this world has to offer.

So, yes, Tender is the Flesh and The Vegetarian have deeper things to say about [gender] and [society], and they cross multiple genres, but they are also horror novels meant to disturb you and uproot your worldview and beliefs.

HISTORY OF HORROR FICTION

Humans have been telling scary stories around fires for as long as we have had fire and tongues. The Ancient Greeks and Romans told stories meant to unsettle—tales of murder, death, and tragedy. The Navajo tribe tells stories of Skin-Walkers, the Iroquois tribe warns of Oniate (or Dry Fingers), and tales of Mao Gui were popular in the 6th and 7th centuries CE China.3 There are ‘monster’ stories and ghoulish legends worldwide, and although many of them are intended as moral lessons, they are also designed to inspire fear, particularly in children.

But horror as an established literary genre (at least, as we know it today) didn’t emerge until the 18th century. According to Britannica:

“In Western literature the literary cultivation of fear and curiosity for its own sake began to emerge in the 18th-century pre-Romantic era with the Gothic novel. The genre was invented by Horace Walpole, whose The Castle of Otranto (1765) may be said to have founded the horror story as a legitimate literary form.”4 (Britannica, 2025)

Then came “Hansel and Gretel” in 1812, Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus in 1818, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow in 1820, and so on. As Turkan Hasanzada describes in their article “The Context of 19th-Century English Horror Stories,” the horror works of 19th-century Victorian England were often influenced by attitudes towards the Industrial Revolution and urbanisation, and highlighted “human suffering, the anxieties about irreversible changes, and the dystopian consequences of innovation.”5 (Hasanzada, 2025). This context is especially relevant to Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus, which used horror as a warning for human greed, technological advancement, and man’s desire to play god.

But public reception to horror has always been a mixed bag, especially in eras heavily influenced by Catholicism and purity culture. After the Jack the Ripper murders, some eyes turned to horror enthusiasts like Richard Mansfield, who produced the stage adaptation of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in 1886. He was forced to close the play two years later when a local paper suspected that he might be The Ripper himself, since he played Mr. Hyde on stage.6 When Shirley Jackson wrote ‘The Lottery’ in 1948, a short story about a fictional town that randomly selects one of its residents to be stoned to death, the negative reception was swift. Jackson and the story’s publisher, The New Yorker, were said to have received ten hate letters a day, with some calling the story “outrageous”, “gruesome”, and “utterly pointless.”7 (Franklin, 2013) The Lottery is now considered a classic among horror and gothic literature, and it was a required text in my high school gothic literature class.

With Jackson and the editors of The New Yorker suffering an onslaught of hate mail, they’d never have predicted the Big Horror Boom that was to come: just one year before the publication of ‘The Lottery,’ Stephen King was born. In 1974 he published Carrie, in 1976 Carrie was adapted into a film, and in 2025, he is a thorn at the bottom of my shoe.

Stephen King is the only author most people think of at all, because most people don’t read, and even among avid readers, he’s the first name that comes to mind when you think of “horror author.” His books dominate the shelves and have been adapted into movies, TV shows, and comics. If you haven’t read him, you’ve still watched one of his movie adaptations: It, The Shining, Misery, The Running Man, or Carrie. King is a talented author, and I can’t thank him enough for all that he did for the horror genre, but his protagonists are all middle-aged white fathers, and his women are usually written in one of two categories (horny or ugly), and I think there are plenty of other great horror authors to start with.

Horror movies had a boom as well, with the The Exorcist in 1973 (adapting the novel by William Peter Blatty), The Texas Chain Saw Massacre in 1974, Jaws in 1975 (adapting the novel by Peter Benchley), the aforementioned Carrie in 1976, and Friday the 13th in 1980. Hollywood executives saw an untapped market and dove headfirst into HORROR, HORROR, HORROR! Now in 2025, we have genius directors like Jordan Peele, Mike Flanagan, James Wan, Ari Aster, and Coralie Fargeat. Additionally, we now have modern literary classics like Mexican Gothic (Silvia Moreno-Garcia), What Moves the Dead (T. Kingfisher), The Vegetarian (Han Kang), and Tender is the Flesh (Augustina Bazterrica).

When asked about the sudden horror boom, horror author Cassandra Khaw told Esquire, “Investors are beginning to realize that horror is profitable, as opposed to that odd little thing that gothy weirdos like me obsess over.”8

Though horror literature has gone from “utterly pointless” to topping the charts, it’s still treated—at best—indifferently by literary elitists. If the reason is that you don’t want to read Stephen King (fair) or that you don’t think the genre has anything to offer (unfair), then I implore you to take my hand and continue with an open mind.

MODERN HORROR AUTHORS OTHER THAN STEPHEN KING

Here are ten modern authors (mostly from the US) with varying styles and approaches to the genre. I’ve even had the pleasure of meeting three of them—Stephen Graham Jones bought a book from my booth and yes, yes I screamed inside.

Victor Lavalle
An award-winning NYC author (World Fantasy Award, British Fantasy Award, Bram Stoker Award, Whiting Writers' Award, a Guggenheim Fellowship, Shirley Jackson Award, American Book Award) whose novel, The Changeling, is being adapted into an Apple TV+ show.
“LaValle uses the thrills of horror to draw attention to timely matters. And he does so without sucking the joy out of the genre. . . . A striking and original American novelist.” —The New Republic [on The Devil in Silver]

Stephen Graham Jones
Another award-winning author (at least 20 awards and counting) who also teaches creative writing at UC Boulder. His latest novel, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, was on Obama’s 2025 reading list and is sold out pretty much everywhere.
“Inventive and spine-tingling…a master class in voice. Queasy, uneasy, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter plays with the interplay between religion and historical guilt, identity and appetite.” —The Washington Post (on The Buffalo Hunter Hunter)

Eric LaRocca (he/they)
A Boston writer with a taste for extremely gory queer tales, LaRocca started off as a self-published author before making enough waves to be picked up by traditional publishers (notably Simon & Schuster, who are publishing his upcoming novel Wretch in March of 2026).
”His artistic muse easily transcends the very label which defines genre and offers instead a peeled-back look at our bare selves in a world where showcasing what’s truly inside is often controversial at best, feared and shamed or downright hated at worst, whilst compassion and understanding become virtues most discarded.” — Cemetery Dance Publications

Mona Awad
A Canadian novelist whose writing has appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times, Vogue, McSweeney’s, TIME magazine, Ploughshares, The Walrus, and Maisonneuve. She weaves horror and the macabre with satirical commentary on society, and takes a more literary approach to the genre. She also teaches creative writing at Syracuse University.
“Awad artfully and acutely explores suffering, artistry, and the limitations of empathy.” ~KIRKUS REVIEWS

Andrew Joseph White
A transgender American author with an MFA in Creative Writing from George Mason University. He’s written horror for both adult and YA audiences, with a focus on queer narratives. He is best known for his novels Hell Followed With Us and You Weren’t Meant to Be Human.
“You Weren’t Meant to be Human is dysphoria bound into words. Andrew Joseph White captures a beautifully disgusting world that’s all too familiar to neurodivergent and trans individuals, with a plot that offers nothing but shocking pleasure with each page turn.” – Linden Lewis, author of The First Sister (on You Weren’t Meant to Be Human)

Agustina Bazterrica
An Argentine author whose works have been published in over thirty languages, Bazterrica is best known for her dystopian horror novel Tender is the Flesh, which sold over 600,000 copies in the US. Her stories incite discussions on gender, capitalism, and religion. She has been considered a “feminist horror novelist” by some.
"Barbaric, brutal, and utterly beautiful. The Unworthy is a searing haunt of a novel that I will never forget."
—Lucy Rose, author of The Lamb (on The Unworthy)

Clay McLeod Chapman
Novelist, comic author, and podcast writer—Chapman is a horror extrordinaire. He was nominated for the Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson awards, and currently teaches writing for Pace University’s MFA program. He is best known for his novels Wake Up and Open Your Eyes and What Kind of Mother. He takes a more comedic approach to the genre and is associated with director Jordan Peele:
“Clay McLeod Chapman is one of my favorite horror storytellers working today.” —Jordan Peele

Grady Hendrix
Considered the “Goosebumps author for adults,” Hendrix’s novels are high-concept standalones that weave humor with horror. He’s an award-winning American author, most famous for My Best Friend’s Exorcism and Horrorstor (about a haunted IKEA). He has a very dedicated fanbase.
“Grady Hendrix’s horror novels are a gateway drug to the genre…By weaving violence, family trauma and humor, Hendrix creates a texture that engages the reader emotionally and viscerally…[a] gripping, wildly entertaining exploration of childhood horrors.” —The New York Times

Isabel Cañas
Cañas is a speculative fiction writer with a doctorate in Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations, and writes novels inspired by her studies and heritage as a Mexican-American woman. Her novels usually feature supernatural elements, feminist themes, and romance. She is most known for Vampires of El Norte and The Possession of Alba Diaz.
“With every book, Isabel Cañas asserts jaw-dropping peerlessness at her craft. Chilling and tender, bloody and sensuous, The Possession of Alba Díaz is Cañas working at the height of her prodigious powers, expanding her fascinating Gothic oeuvre with her best and most brutal work yet. I devoured it.” –Olivie Blake, New York Times bestselling author of The Atlas Six (on The Possession of Alba Diaz)

Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Moreno-Garcia is a Canadian author and editor, and the recipient of the Locus, British Fantasy and World Fantasy Awards. She is best known for her novels Mexican Gothic and The Bewitching, but writes in a variety of genres, not just horror. She received her MA in Science and Technology Studies from the University of British Columbia. She also actively runs a literary blog!
“It’s Lovecraft meets the Brontës in Latin America, and after a slow-burn start Mexican Gothic gets seriously weird” —The Guardian (on Mexican Gothic)

BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS FROM MY PERSONAL LIBRARY

With our definition of horror as an emotion, there are crumbs of horror across every literary genre: The Hunger Games is a terrifying portrayal of the future; A Game of Thrones disturbs with gore and sexual violence; and 1984 even has torture scenes. But these are not horror novels. I believe the difference is intention—some authors use fear as their main driving force, while others sprinkle it throughout.

I don’t want to send you off with too much homework—at least, not more than researching the authors above to see if any of them speak to you. I’ve made the next part easy. Here are eight modern horror novels that I have personally read (or have been read by my partner) and that I recommend.

Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman
A disgraced knight, a hedonistic priest, and a young girl try to survive plague-torn medieval Europe in this terrifying medieval horror novel. Demons—Biblically accurate, truly horrifying demons—are after the girl and will stop at nothing to get her. Perfect for dark fantasy lovers, fans of The Last of Us, and Dark Souls players.
“Cormac McCarthy's The Road meets Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in this frightful medieval epic...Buehlman...doesn't scrimp on earthy horror and lyrical writing in the face of unspeakable horrors...an author to watch."—Kirkus Reviews

A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck
A Mormon dies and ends up in a Hell for a religion he’s never heard of, trapped in a lawless library that never seems to end. Each book in the library contains randomly generated text, and in order to escape, he must find the one book that describes his life on Earth in detail. But he isn’t alone—thousands of others were sent to Hell with him, and as the years go by, they have less and less to lose…
“Profound and disturbing, A Short Stay In Hell is a perfect blend of science fiction, theology, and horror. A terrifying meditation on faith, human nature, and the relentless scope of eternity. It will haunt you, fittingly, for a very, very long time. ---- Dan Wells, author of I Am Not a Serial Killer

The Possession of Alba Diaz by Isabel Ca(n)as
In 1765, a woman enters a mine and leaves with something ancient inside her. Surrounded by the plague and untrustworthy zealots, the only place to turn is her fiancé’s cousin, a handsome loner who can’t quite shake her off, no matter how hard he tries. This novel was a classic historical romance with added paranormal horror, and possession as a metaphor for bodily autonomy. I loved it!
"The classic elements of a possession story shine in this Gothic horror romance, but Cañas builds on them, using possession to explore themes of power, greed, agency and autonomy. And—this is important!—to prove that possession can be hot." —New York Times

The Vegetarian by Han Kang
A woman suddenly decides to go vegetarian, shocking her husband and family members. This personal decision drastically changes the course of her life, and everyone around her tries to assert their hold on her body, emotions, and psyche. It’s a psychological horror that, to some people’s relief, focuses very little on animal death.
“A complex, terrifying look at how seemingly simple decisions can affect multiple lives . . . In a world where women’s bodies are constantly under scrutiny, the protagonist’s desire to disappear inside of herself feels scarily familiar.”—Vanity Fair

The Starving Saints by Caitlin Starling
A castle has been under siege for months, and just as the inhabitants start to turn on each other for food, three strangers breach the gates. They bring baskets of food—vegetables, meat, bread—yet nobody saw them enter with these baskets. In fact, nobody saw them enter at all. As the castle plunges into chaos and violence, the only hope against these strangers is the king’s madwoman, a vengeful young girl, and a knight torn between her duties.
“A magnum opus level hybrid between haunted, sapphic, culty, witchy, and cannibalistic.” - Crime Reads

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher
When Alex Easton, a retired soldier, receives word that their childhood friend Madeline Usher is dying, they race to the ancestral home of the Ushers. What they find there is a nightmare of fungal growths and possessed wildlife. Aided by a redoubtable British mycologist and a baffled American doctor, Alex must unravel the secret of the House of Usher before it consumes them all. A reimagining of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher”—with fungal horror.
"An infectious new spin on classic Gothic horror.”—Booklist

The Unmothers by Leslie Anderson
A journalist is sent to a small, backward town to investigate a bizarre rumor: a horse has given birth to a healthy human baby. What she finds is a surreal nightmare, and a secret the women have been keeping for generations. It’s folk horror, it’s body horror, it’s trippy, it’s scary horses!
“An impressive debut, an intricate and unsettling narrative about desperation that is full of stellar writing.”—Gabino Iglesias, New York Times

Root Rot by Saskia Nislow
Nine children, each nameless, visit their grandfather’s isolated lake house for a summer trip. Surreal things start to happen—people appearing from nowhere, distorted memories, and the half-formed bodies of their family members—and the children realize they might never be going back home. Told from the perspective of “we.”
“Captivating and compelling…Root Rot is a horror novel filled with suspense and unsettling images as it traces the strange occurrences at a family lake house.” —Foreword Reviews

Horror literature has come a long way, and I’m happy for it. I believe everyone should try to read at least one good horror novel, and if they dislike it, that’s okay. But horror isn’t just about haunted houses, creepy kids, and slashers. Horror is a vice to warn us, keep us entertained, or make us think critically about history, society, and humanity (more often than not, it is all three). What are humans capable of, and how can this be avoided? Where will technology take us if we leave it unregulated? What are the dangers of unchecked bigotry and ignorance? Can the indomitable human spirit truly persist in the face of tragedy? The answers are found in horror novels.

I’ll leave you with one quote from Clive Barker, the mind behind Hellraiser and Books of Blood:

“[Horror fiction] shows us that the control we believe we have is purely illusory, and that every moment we teeter on chaos and oblivion.”
― Clive Barker

As someone with a closet full of maple sweaters and cozy cardigans, Autumn is easily my favorite season of the year. It’s cold enough to dress in fashionable layers and every cafe starts selling apple or pumpkin-flavored goodies. There’s Halloween, the turning of leaves, and suddenly I feel like I’m in a rom-com.

I recently started working at a bookstore. I spend my days surrounded by books, talking about books, shelving and organizing books, and recommending books. This helped me go from reading 1-2 books a month to reading 3-4. I never thought I would be someone who reads 30 books a year, given that I barely read one in my first two years of college, but I’m proud of myself.

So without further ado, here is every book/novella I read from September through November! I’ve already written full post-length reviews for some, and I’ll link them below. :)

A Treachery of Swans by A.B. Poranek
read 8/29 - 9/3
☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: sapphic romance, fantasy settings, feminist retellings, gothic atmosphere

A lesbian retelling of Swan Lake where Odile and Odette fall in love—with added gothic horror. I enjoyed it so much that I requested we order and sell it at my bookstore! It’s a YA romance/mystery, and the author’s second novel. I can’t recommend it enough! Also, can we talk about this gorgeous cover??

Read my full review for this book here!

Mistborn: The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson
read 8/26 - 9/25
☆☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: unique world-building, high fantasy, female protagonists, romance, mystery

This is the second installment of Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy (and I still haven’t read the third, so no spoilers please!) and I love love LOVED it! It definitely takes a different tone than the first, and some of the lovable characters are sidelined for new villains and plots, but I read through the final act with my jaw on the floor. If you’re new to the fantasy genre, I can’t recommend Mistborn enough. It’s also perfect for seasoned fantasy fans who want something unique and are craving some air-punching hero stories.

TW: graphic violence, genocide/slavery

A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L Peck
read 9/19 - 9/22
☆☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: religious horror, nightmare scenarios, survival horror, existential dread, labryinths.

A Mormon dies and descends to a Hell for a religion he’s never heard of. Trapped in an endless, labyrinthine library, he must find one specific book or spend forever in its halls.
This is hands-down one of the best books I’ve ever read and has snaked its way into my top-5-books-of-all-time, all while being a little over 100 pages! I’m thinking of writing a post just about this novella. Having grown up deeply religious before turning atheist, I find religion fascinating, especially religious horror. My only complaint is that I wish it were longer! (I would read a 400-page version, please Steven L. Peck, I’m begging you).

TWs: mentions of sexual assault, graphic violence

Ladies in Hating by Alexandra Vasti
read 8/12 - 9/19
☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: sapphic romance, historical settings, gothic architecture, rivals to lovers

Two Gothic authors uncover each other’s identities and realize their mutual childhood crushes may get in the way of their literary rivalry.
This was a cute and steamy lesbian historical romance that had me smiling the whole way through, but I wasn’t in love with the story or characters as much as I’d thought I’d be.

If you want to know why, read my full review here!

The Extra by Annie Neugebauer
read 9/27
☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: suspense, mysteries, science fiction, short reads

10 people go on a backpacking trip, but when they wake up, they count 11 people present. Everyone can remember someone. Who is the extra?
I finished this novella in one sitting. It was a very stressful read (in a good way!) and was my staff pick at the bookstore for a month. The author is coming out with a sequel—though I’m not sure if it’s a direct continuation or just in the same universe—and I’m very excited to read more! I would have given it five stars, but I wasn’t a fan of the cliffhanger ending.

The Starving Saints by Caitlin Starling
read 9/22 - 10/11
☆☆☆

Read if you like: body horror, queer-coded characters, fantasy settings, bizarre fiction

Three strange outsiders arrive at a castle under siege, bringing food of even stranger origin. Phosyne, the castle’s ‘madwoman,’ teams up with other unlikely heroes to try and figure out who these strangers are and how they took control of the castle.
The Starving Saints really nails its horror, but beware of the purple prose. There were MANY occasions that I couldn’t tell if something really happened or if it was a metaphor, and with a plot this convoluted and scenery so specific, it took me out of the scenes.

TWs: gore

The Possession of Alba Diaz by Isabel Cañas
read 10/4 - 10/24
☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: historical fiction, romance, supernatural horror, forbidden love

An absolutely enthralling historical horror about a woman who enters a mine and leaves possessed by something dark and ancient. It was my first Isabel Cañas read, and I can’t wait to read more from her! It’s a horror novel, yes, but it’s also a romance, a drama, and a metaphor for bodily autonomy and identity. The characters were multifaceted, the setting was perfect, and the romance had me kicking my feet in glee. It would have been a 5-star read, but I thought the ending was a little drawn out—still, I absolutely recommend it!

Root Rot by Saskia Nislow
read 10/24 - 10/27
☆☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: fungal horror, bizarre fiction, queer characters, literary fiction

Nine children visit their grandfather’s isolated house and fall one by one to the supernatural forces at work. Told from the perspective of “we,” Root Rot was an absolute rollercoaster, and I loved every second of it. It was haunting, gross, eerie, and every word served a purpose. It’s one of those books where you reread the first chapter and notice so many new details! It’s definitely on the literary end, and if you’re not interested in a novel that you really have to focus on, it may not be for you. But if you like fungal horror and similarly unique concepts, you’ll love this book.

TWs: child death

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides
read 10/27 - 11/5
☆☆☆☆

Read if you like: thrillers & mysteries, unreliable narrators, true crime

A happily married woman shoots her husband in the face and then goes radio silent, never speaking again. A criminal psychotherapist takes an interest in the case and starts to obsess over the woman.
This book is insanely popular, and I’m very lucky to have received it as a gift. Though it was written pretty recently, the portrayal of mental health felt very 2009—words like psycho, crazy, etc.—and the final twist felt like a cheat, but otherwise, I really enjoyed the read. It kept me on my toes, but I don’t know if I’ll go back to the author.

The Forest of Missing Girls by Nichelle Giraldes
read 10/13 - 11/9
☆☆☆.5

Read if you like: body horror, mystery, female protagonists

Frankenstein meets folk horror: a young woman returns to her small hometown after a breakup and learns her mother may know more about the local missing girls than she lets on. It’s an entertaining read with body horror, family trauma, and a unique POV switch that I really enjoyed, but I wasn’t totally satisfied with this read.

I wrote a full review for this book. Read my full review here!

That’s all for autumn! I’ve officially reached 29/30 books this year, which I never thought I could do. I’m currently working on my last read, Never Whistle at Night, and am sneaking some chapters of The Midnight Vault in, too. I’ll be back next month with “The Best Books I Read in 2025!”

Thank you to NetGalley for giving me an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

October may be over, but spooky season never really ends if you’re a horror fan. So prepare for severed limbs and existential dread, because it’s body horror time, baby.

I was very excited to receive an advanced copy of The Forest of Missing Girls from NetGalley. Advertised as a small-town mystery surrounding the disappearances of dozens of young girls (the plot is kind of in the name), the book is genuinely unnerving. I’m not sure what I expected—though mysteries usually always have the same few beats—but Nichelle Giraldes took a path that surprised me. But was it good?

The plot is very straightforward. Ophelia returns to her hometown after a breakup, and her sister’s best friend goes missing from their very backyard. Much like the other disappearances in town, there are no leads and no witnesses. Ophelia begins to suspect that her mother, Elizabeth, knows more about the missing girls than she lets on. Thus begins Ophelia’s slow unraveling of the horrors lurking in the forest.

The Forest of Missing Girls tackles quite a few themes: body horror, complex family dynamics, folk/eco horror, and women’s beauty standards (though I wouldn’t quite call it feminist horror). It’s an entertaining read with an especially fun second half, but the prose isn’t strong enough to really land all of its parts.

The chapters switch off between Ophelia and ‘the missing girls,’ giving readers glimpses into the truth while Ophelia scrambles to find out for herself. As for the horror: the forest is anthropomorphised, which chilled me whenever Ophelia entered; the body horror is both horrifying and existential; the villain takes over the scene whenever they’re presented. Nichelle Giraldes nailed the fear without falling into old-school mystery cliches or slasher stories. And I’ll tell you right now, the body horror isn’t what you’re thinking.

As for criticisms, the opening chapters didn’t match the tone of the rest of the book, and I wish readers were given a more engaging beginning. Ophelia is likable, but I wish she had more hobbies or traits, because as is, she reads like a blank slate I’m supposed to project myself onto. Some of the prose felt underdeveloped (lots of adverbs, directly stating things instead of letting the reader find out, etc.) but it was still readable, and I sped through the latter half of the book with white knuckles. But could I name the side characters? Could I, with a gun to my head, describe the scenery or the protagonist? Giraldes didn’t immerse me in the setting as much as she immersed me in the fear, which could have been intentional, but I disliked it regardless. What’s the point if I’m not rooting for your main cast?

Overall, I enjoyed the book and I would consider its quality average. I’m excited to read more from the author as she develops her craft.

Have you read anything good lately? Or maybe something average—perhaps even below—that you have no one to talk to about? Drop a comment below and we can get this conversation rolling. <3

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆½

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Thank you to NetGalley for the Advanced Readers Copy.

Spoiler-free review.

At its core, Bridge Planet Nine is about corporate greed forcing people to turn against each other, though neither faction really wants bloodshed. Action. Capitalism. Faraway planets. It had the makings of a deep and gritty dystopia. But did it fall through?

The new sci-fi comic from Jared Throne follows Pearl—a pilot and reluctant thief—and her motley crew attempting to rob an old freighter on a deserted planet. The planet, of course, is not really deserted. With one of their own is kidnapped and the mission goes sideways, the crew is forced to unravel the dark history behind the planet’s deadly air—and the people surviving despite it.

The story and twists are engaging, and the worldbuilding is a realistic glimpse into a possible future, but the characters fall flat. While reading, I understood their motivations and hesitance for violence, but their reactions sometimes had me scratching my head. Without giving too many spoilers, I’ll say that when one of the crew members dies, everyone reacts with almost…indifference. What little emotion is displayed is quickly moved on from. This could have been a good way to ground readers in the high-stakes world of hesits and the threats that come with it—is a death like this normal? Did they have plans in case this happened? But instead, it feels rushed and almost forgotten.

The entire comic, really, feels rushed. I wish readers got to sit with these characters and this world more. That way, I’d better understand their emotions and decision-making. I knew just enough to get by, but I feel like we only scratched the surface of this story. There are opportunities for depth and heart that are quickly skipped over.

The art style is charming, but the characters feel rigid during the action sequences, which took some tension out of the scenes for me. Otherwise, I liked the character designs and thought the art style conveyed the right tone and mood for the story. The black and white colors, the clothing, and the scenery all felt right to me.

Overall, I recommend Bridge Planet Nine to anyone who wants to enjoy a quick sci-fi read.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆

Welcome, new reader!

Kyrie Reads is a literary blog for book reviews of all genres, rambles, and personal essays.

I started Kyrie Reads a little over a year and a half ago (originally on Weebly) to hold myself accountable for actually reading, and I’ve amassed over 400 blog subscribers here on Substack. I’m so thankful to all of you for giving my little corner of the internet a chance, especially to those of you who have paid subscriptions. ^^

BLOG SCHEDULE (September 2025 — Current):

Quarterly Reviews
Reading wrap-ups and reviews posted at the end of every season with analysis and ratings for each book read during that time.
Spring - May 15th
Summer - August 15th
Fall - November 15th
Winter - February 15th

Monthly Posts
Essays, rambles, rants, and other long-form blog posts about the literary world are published on the 21st of every month.
I’ve been itching to post literary essays, so this new schedule gives me an opportunity to tackle both reviews and think-pieces while still giving me time to breathe. This means at most you’ll be receiving 2 posts in your inbox per month instead of 3-4 like usual.
I’m also going to be more critical with my rating system. I usually never rate anything below 2 stars because I simply DNF books I can’t stand. But going forward, I will be using the following rating system:
1 Star = Awful
2 Stars = Okay
3 Stars = Average
4 Stars = Good
5 Stars = Great

Who Am I?

My name is Kyrie. I’m an English graduate and writer from California currently living in NYC. I read books of all genres, but I’m partial to horror, high fantasy, and nonfiction (memoirs, history, etc.). My favorite books are Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman, The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green, Root Rot by Saskia Nislow, The Possession of Alba Diaz by Isabel Cañas, The Mistborn Trilogy by Brandon Sanderson, Uzumaki by Junji Ito, and A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck.

I’ve worked as an assistant to a university press, bookseller, and managing editor of an undergraduate litmag. I have professional book and graphic design experience (you can find my portfolio here).

I hope to publish a novel one day! I’ve had my poetry & fiction published in the following places:

“Skip in 5 Secs” - Flash Fiction
Published in NUNUMS Done in a Hundred Anthology (2025) as Kyrie Nicole

“My Childhood Had a Name” - Poem (Jodi Stutz Award Winner)
Published in Toyon Literary Magazine Vol. 70 (2024) as Kiran Dunning

“Graduate” - Poem
Published in KINDABUMMED MAG (Feb 2023) as Kyrie Dunning

“Honeysuckles” - Poem
Published in KINDABUMMED MAG (Feb 2023) as Kyrie Dunning

That’s all, and thanks for reading! I’m excited for what’s to come for Kyrie Reads, and thanks again for all your support. Ciao! (๑’ᵕ’๑)⸝*

Spoiler-free review.

Was this really the “foe-mance of a lifetime,” as described on Macmillan’s website? No. But this Bridgerton-esque sapphic romance is still worth your time. Just don’t expect the enemies-to-lovers showdown that its sales team is so keen on pushing.

Georgiana is a gothic novelist operating under a pen name, and her stories have been copied by another anonymous writer for too long. Finally willing to roll up her sleeves and confront the author, Georgiana realizes it’s none other than Cat, the daughter of her father’s former servant—and her childhood crush. The pair then find themselves running into each other in random spaces until they eventually end up residing at the same supposedly haunted manor. Realizing this can’t all be just a coincidence, the women end up diving headfirst into a mystery surrounding their pasts, their families, and even the manor itself.

This was not an enemies to lovers. I wouldn’t even say they were “ladies in hating.” Georgiana and Cat are a lust-at-first-sight pair whose rivalry ends less than 20% into the story, and any tension in their relationship thereafter is caused by their own insecurities. This isn’t the fault of the author, who wrote a genuinely entertaining love story, but of the sales team trying to capitalize on popular romance keywords.

I call this story Bridgerton-esque for its setting, romance, and sexual content (though of course, Bridgerton was not the first to popularize these themes). Set on the outskirts of ton society with references to debutants, balls, Lords, and Ladies, the story focuses more on those who feel both rejected by high society and who never had much care for it in the first place. As gothic novelists—and lesbians—Georgiana and Cat have to make their own way in the world. So if you watched Bridgerton specifically for the ball scenes, maybe skip this one. But if you liked the atmosphere, the language, the romance, and the sex, you might be a fan of Ladies in Hating.

Georgiana and Cat are likeable protagonists with opposing personalities; Georgiana is cold, reserved, and shy, while Cat is blunt, flirtatious, and opinionated. The surrounding cast (my favorite being Georgiana’s dog, Bacon) are pleasant personalities that help set the book’s atmosphere as a historical romance. The villains and the mystery surrounding them held my attention throughout the book.

The book isn’t shy about its sexual content, with the word “steamy” in its synopsis. There were three or four explicit scenes, each lasting a little longer than I thought needed, but that I thought did a good job at characterizing both Cat and Georgiana within the relationship. With female sexuality being a conversation we still struggle to have today, I thought the exploration of kink between two consenting women was refreshing—though sometimes I wanted them to get away from their skirts and back to the mystery.

All in all, Ladies in Hating is a fun, sexy mystery that kept my attention. I recommend it to fans of Bridgerton, sapphic romance, or anyone who want something more Gothic Lite.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆☆

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Spoiler-free Review.

A Treachery of Swans is A.B. Poranek’s highly anticipated second novel; a gothic retelling of Swan Lake set in a fantasy version of historical France (I believe around the 1780s). But does it live up to the hype?

In this version, we see from the perspective of Odile, the villainess in the original ballet who takes the place of the beautiful protagonist Odette—though in this book, her name is Marie d’Odette d’Auvigny. Odile works under the thumb of her scheming father Regnault, who is the main villain Von Rothbart in the ballet. Like the ballet, Marie is turned into a swan by day and a human by night, Odile steals her place to swoon the Prince, and Regnault is the one orchestrating everything. But beyond a few more easter eggs and references, that’s where the similarities end.

Poranek took a gothic approach with her adaptation: there are murders, mysterious beasts, poisons, ancient ruins, and themes of sexuality. There’s also a soft magic system that expands on the spells we see in the ballet. The additions to the story were exciting and creative, and Poranek still paid homage to the original ballet at every opportunity, satisfying audiences familiar with the original tale and new readers alike. It’s a very atmospheric read.

And, of course, there’s the romance. Though the Prince (referred to in the book almost exclusively as the Dauphin) plays an important role in the story, the real love plot is between Odile and Marie. Marie is enchanting, feminine, and graceful, and she captures Odile’s attention from the very beginning. Odile is conniving, sarcastic, and crude, but Marie finds it charming. I was worried the romance would seem forced since one of their first interactions is Odile lying to and cursing Marie, but their chemistry was like a slow simmer into a rapid boil. It worked for me.

As for the other characters, Regnault was an intimidating villain and his toxic paternal relationship with Odile was integral to the story. The Dauphin was cute in the way of…like…a puppy, but I wish he had more character depth. There’s also Odile’s brother, but he was present in maybe 10-20 pages and I don’t even remember his name. There’s also the Regent (the Dauphin’s uncle) and the Queen (the Dauphin’s step-mother) who I felt deserved more screen time. (Or, page time?)

My biggest gripe with the book was Odile, our villainess protagonist. The author tells us how talented and smart Odile is, but whenever it came time for Odile to deliver, she wasn’t convincing. Readers were supposed to find her impressive when she just…wasn’t. She reminded me of an old coworker who was both pompous and incompetent. I still rooted for our sarcastic MC, but sometimes she had me rolling my eyes.

The mysteries in the novel were interesting and fun to try and solve on my own, and I didn’t expect any of the ending twists (though others on Goodreads said they saw it from a mile away, so maybe I’m just stupid :P). The added lore is immersive, the prose is atmospheric, and the banter is believable.

Overall, I recommend this book to anyone familiar with Swan Lake or anyone hungry for a new sapphic romance. It was a fun read with lots of twists and turns, but it was too shy of great to earn five stars.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆☆

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This summer, I moved across the country, attended a 4-week publishing course, and worked part-time at two jobs. Reading was the only thing to keep me grounded in all that (admittedly very good) chaos. I hate catching myself scrolling social media, so I tried to read whenever I felt those impulses. I ended up finishing 11 books this June-August, which is more than I read throughout all of my undergrad years and shot me well over my goal of 15 books this year. Now I’m trying for 30…we’ll see how that goes.

I’ve already written longer reviews for most of these titles, so let’s have some fun with it. Here are all 11 books I finished this summer from LEAST to MOST likely to bring home to mom—that is, least to most family friendly.

*for clarity, being family-friendly doesn’t make a book good, nor does being for adults make a book bad!

LEAST: The Definite No’s

11. In the Event of Love by Courtney Kae ☆☆☆
    Read June 8th - June 19th
    Romance

    Though I would recommend this holiday sapphic romance to most adults, this book had some heavy—and admittedly, a little out of place—smutty scenes. I’m talking made-me-look-around-to-make-sure-nobody-was-in-my-room-even-though-I’m-an-adult-and-was-alone scenes. Don’t let the cartoonish cover fool you like it fooled me. Otherwise, it was a pretty solid read about two women facing their pasts to save their small town.

10. The Blacktongue Thief by Christopher Buehlman ☆☆☆☆☆
    Read August 2nd - August 24th
    Fantasy

    This dark fantasy about a thief stumbling into a quest greater than himself has to be one of my favorite books I’ve read this year so far, but I won’t be reading it at the dinner table. Gore, brutal deaths, magic, sex, cursing, it’s kind of a Catholic mom’s worst nightmare. But if you’re itching for unique worldbuilding and compelling characters, this one’s for you.

9. The Unexpected Heiress by Cassidy Crane ☆☆☆1/2
   Read July 25th - August 11th
   Romance

   A young woman who hops from rich suitor to rich suitor. Another young woman who just happened upon extreme wealth. You can see where this goes, and it was a charming and fun romance. Though the sex scenes weren’t as graphic as those in number 11, they were still detailed enough to land number 9 on the list.

MAYBE: Depends on Your Mama

8. Mistborn: The Final Empire by Brandon Sanderson ☆☆☆☆☆
   Read May 9th - June 8th
   Fantasy

   Mistborn answers the question: what if the chosen one died? There are no sex scenes—explicit or implied—but it tackles pretty dark topics like public executions, graphic violence, rape, and slavery. It’s a fantastic read (I’m currently chewing through the sequel), but it’s probably not for your little cousin.

7. All Systems Red: The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells ☆☆☆☆
   Read June 9th - June 23rd
   Science Fiction

   Though this witty sci-fi comedy is pretty tame, it still contains violence—hence the “murder” in the name. No matter the content, I think it would’ve been confiscated if a parent found it in my backpack. Still, it’s more than worth the read, and the Apple TV+ show adaptation had me laughing.

6. My Husband by Maud Ventura ☆☆☆☆
   Read June 23rd - July 4th
   Thriller

   A wife is obsessed with her husband but thinks the feeling might not be mutual, and she’ll do whatever she can to get his attention. This one was hard to place because there is sexual content, but it’s not overly explicit. I wouldn’t call it erotic but more…disturbing? And for that reason it earns a “maybe.” Great for fans of female rage or just unhinged women in general.

5. 1984 by George Orwell ☆☆☆☆
   Read May 9th - June 9th
   Science Fiction

   Pretty much every teenager read 1984 and wrote an essay about it, making it obviously suitable for younger audiences, but the mentions of rape and sexual descriptions mark the book as a maybe.

4. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng ☆☆☆☆☆
   Read July 13th - July 23rd
   Drama

   Reese Witherspoon was frothing at the mouth over this book, and for good reason. It’s a compelling narrative about a small, wealthy town faced with a problem that surfaces their prejudices. I’d consider the book PG-13 due to its exploration of teenage sexuality.

3. The Prisoner’s Throne by Holly Black ☆☆☆
   Read July 23rd - July 31st
   YA Fantasy

   Holly Black’s conclusion to her Elfhame duology could also be marked as PG-13. There are sword battles, poisonings, murders, scandals, and a closed-door sex scene making it unsuitable for younger audiences, but the plot itself was very YA. This one is up to your mama.

2. We Used to Live Here by Marcus Kliewer ☆☆☆☆
   Read May 9th - July 10th
   Horror

   A woman hears a knock at the door: it’s a family claiming they used to live in her house, and they want to come inside. Though this is a horror novel, not much horror actually…happened. None of the violence is on-screen (on-page?), and while there’s one death towards the end that makes it PG-13, the content of the book is pretty family-friendly—minus some cursing. They’re making a TV show adaptation soon, so we’ll have to see if its content holds up.

MOST: Home Sweet Home

1. A Fellowship of Bakers and Magic by J Penner ☆☆☆
   Read July 4th - July 13th
   Fantasy

   Finally, the most innocent and cozy read on this list. It’s about a human who enters a magical baking competition and has to prove her worth. It’s cute, it’s romantic, it’s cozy, it’s sweet, and it made me want little fruit tarts. I feel confident in its wholesomeness.

That’s a wrap on all the books I read this summer. I’m hoping to finish strong and read 11 more from September - December. Thanks for reading!

Spoiler-free review.

Now that I’ve completed The Stolen Heir duology, the sequels to The Cruel Prince, I can say I was underwhelmed. I’ve seen quite a few reviews making direct comparisons to TCP, but I want to be fair and judge this duology for what it is.

Though the first book was from Wren’s perspective, we switch to Oak in TPT, and Wren is barely present. I actually liked Wren and wanted to see more from her, so I was disappointed to see her lose all of the backbone she’d gained in the end of the first book and take a more passive role. It makes the ending of The Stolen Heir seem anti-climactic in retrospect.

In terms of plot, I wish I had more to say. Though readers get to see inside Oak’s head, Oak is oblivious to the scheming around him, so readers are just as confused on what’s happening as he is. It could have been a fun mystery but ended up disorienting and confusing. Oak spends most of the book talking about how secretly strategic and smart he is, but we don’t see him do much of that. Instead, he pines for Wren and contemplates his familial issues.

The romance was cute but not compelling. Wren and Oak know too little about each other and Wren wholly believes Oak could never love her back. If every character just communicated with each other, this book could have been less than 50 pages. Readers who hate the miscommunication trope, be warned!

Oak’s internal struggles and daddy issues were more interesting than the romance the book presented, but I never felt like these internal conflicts were resolved. Still, it was interesting to see the family we remember from TCP (Jude, Taryn, Vivi, Madoc, and Oriana) from Oak’s perspective.

I’m not unhappy to have read this duology, and I think it justifies its existance and contributes to the world we know and love. But it could have been more…more. I’m left wanting. This duology was kind of like your grandma’s leftover purse candy—a fun treat, but not really what you wanted.

The book ends with not-so-subtle hints towards another Jude and Cardan adventure, which Holly Black herself has confirmed. I’ll be keeping my eye out for that!

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆

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I received an advanced copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for a fair review.

Set against a Gatsby-esque backdrop, The Unexpected Heiress follows Clara Cooper, a young closeted lesbian who starts crushing on Addie Barnes, one of the hostesses on her cruise abroad. Addie Barnes finds Clara’s puppy love endearing but doesn’t take her seriously, at least not until she learns that Clara recently inherited her grandfather’s wealth. She befriends and seduces Clara, thus beginning the long, dramatic saga of their relationship. How long can Addie keep her true intentions secret? And how can she stop herself from falling for Clara’s talents and kindness?

There are no real villains in The Unexpected Heiress, unless you count headache-inducing misunderstandings. Though Clara and Addie must keep their relationship secret, the only real force keeping them apart is themselves. Their love and chemistry are palpable, but their insecurities, pasts, and lies drive seemingly never-ending wedges between them. I wanted to lock them both in a room and force them to just talk to each other. My favorite toxic lesbians.

There are few supporting characters in the novel, giving readers plenty of time to focus on Clara and Addie’s relationship. None of the side characters were relevant enough to justify more screen time, but there was one woman in the first half of the novel I wished I’d gotten to learn more about. I wished we could have also learned more about Addie’s past relationships, Clara’s brothers, and the grandfather who gave her all the wealth in the first place.

I enjoyed our main pair. Clara started off insecure and clumsy, but readers get to watch her blossom into a secure woman. Addie, who had always been charming, had her own struggles. With one previous lover dead and the rest having given up on her, she’s hesitant to let herself love again.

Though the book is set in 1920s America, readers are given a more lighthearted approach to a sapphic love story—it’s about queer love and joy, not suffering. There are only a few comments about off-screen homophobia. Some might find this unrealistic, but I enjoy that kind of narrative. I don’t always want to read about hate crimes. Sometimes I just want them to cuddle and be happy and drink tea, dammit.

Overall, The Unexpected Heiress was a fun—if sometimes frustrating—love story about two very different women fighting their own demons to come together. I recommend it to anyone who enjoys sapphic romances, 1920s history, or Gatsby-level yearning.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆ 1/2

Sometimes when I’m staring at a blank Word document and fumbling over the text, I remind myself that it’s all just words. There isn’t a way to magically paint the page in the right tone or theme. I just have to use words. The best writers don’t have magic keyboards. They’re working with the same tools I am—just 26 letters. But a good writer can take these admittedly scarce letters (how are there only 26??) and turn them into something beautiful.

So, here are six quotes from books I like that changed my brain chemistry and made me realize what can be done with just 26 letters.

It can be easy to think the world and humanity are doomed, that there’s no hope or point in setting up our futures. But I believe in the small magics of the world, and that belief is perfectly captured in this quote. There’s a vulnerability here that’s both relatable and beautiful. When I read this, it resonated with me in a way that nothing else ever has, making The Anthropocene Reviewed easily one of my favorite books I’ve read.

There’s this idea that love is a destination, that once you’re married, you’ve achieved a happily ever after. But love is something you have to work for. You must choose to love every day. I like this quote because, though I had my problems with this book, it was a refreshing acknowledgement of what ‘true love’ is really like, even in a fairy tale setting. Evangeline chooses to love Jacks despite everything. Love is something to hold onto, which makes it all the more precious.

I’m not a mother, so I’m sure this quote will resonate with mothers in a way it simply can’t with me, but I enjoyed it all the same. A child is infinite potential and possibility; they are an embodiment of love that once was; they are what makes you get up in the morning. The comparison to Narnia was unlike any comparison I’d seen made to children before, but I thought it captured the feeling of wonder and almost magic that comes with creating and raising a child. From what I’ve heard, at least. #CatMom

Not to get morbid, but I’ve been thinking a lot about how everyone dies.

Hear me out!

We all die, and I would rather die having done things, even if they weren’t perfect or even good. I would rather have lived trying than lived doing nothing. That realization felt like letting go. As a self-diagnosed control freak, that’s a pretty big thing for me. This quote resonated with me because of that, and Bird by Bird is filled with similar wise-cracking advice. Any writer should give it a read.

McCurdy is specifically speaking on people you know within certain contexts, like the workplace or classroom. We meet these people and learn their lives, their habits, and their loves, without ever knowing them beyond that context. I have plenty of old coworkers whose lives I know in graphic detail, but who I’ll probably never hear from again. I relate to McCurdy in this way. I want to be friends, I want what I know about you to mean something.

Fiiiiiinnee okay, you got me! I love yearning! I love romance! I love devotion! This quote shook my 16-year-old self and I’ve never recovered. Given that Kaz, the speaker, is cold, unempathetic, and never speaks like this, the quote felt like an indirect confession of love. Readers were given crumbs and I was eating them up. I wanted someone to love me enough to rescue me if I were in danger, but still see me as an equal. So far, I haven’t been kidnapped by evildoers. I’ll keep you posted.

Each character in Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere confronts motherhood in some form, and asks themselves, and the reader, the question: what makes someone a mother?

The author doesn’t have the answers, and she doesn’t pretend to. Each character is given the spotlight in their own time to show their thoughts, struggles, and flaws to make readers empathize with their perspectives. Even if we disagree, and even if these characters’ flaws make us sit with ourselves and ask who we’ve hurt in the same way, we can still understand why they believe what they believe. And that, my friend, is the beauty of Little Fires Everywhere. There is no protagonist. There are no good guys or bad guys; there’s just flawed, real people.1

Little Fires Everywhere is part drama part literary fiction. Set in a tightly knit and wealthy community in Ohio, the book follows several residents each grappling with their complicated personal lives while trying to maintain a good public image. The book raises questions of motherhood, yes, but also of class, race, and sexuality. Can a community that claims to “not see race” truly be progressive? What’s more important in raising a child—stability or love? The book portrays every type of mother: the reluctant, the perfectionist, the messy, and the desperate. The plot is hard to explain, as is the case sometimes with litfic, but is mostly a series of small choices that unravel into interpersonal drama that’s complicated, messy, and infuriating.

Though the cast is fairly large, I never felt overwhelmed. I got to know each individual, and they felt like people I’ve interacted with in real life, not just characters. They were all unlikeable and flawed and frustrating, but I related to each of them in ways I didn’t expect. I could empathize with everyone, even if I wanted to punch them in the face.

I’m aware there’s a Hulu adaptation featuring Reese Witherspoon. I haven’t watched it yet, but I’ve heard it disregards the book’s subtlety and spoon feeds watchers its message, which removes everything I loved about this book. I might give it a watch just to see.

The book is layered and nuanced, and is narrated by a mostly neutral omniscient narrator—mostly neutral—and I couldn’t put it down once I’d picked it up. I recommend Little Fires Everywhere to anyone who enjoys drama, literary fiction, or books that make you reflect on yourself or the world.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆☆☆

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The Murderbot Diaries: All Systems Red
by Martha Wells
Spoiler-Free Review.

I didn’t expect to love Murderbot as much as I did. I finished the book in two days. I will be reading the rest of the series, watching the new Apple TV+ show, and perhaps buying a Murderbot plushie. Consider me a fan.

Murderbot Diaries follows a security android (called a SecUnit) that has hacked its governor module. Now self-aware and comically sarcastic, the SecUnit, which calls itself Murderbot, has to lie low with its new clients to avoid suspicion and preserve its sentience. Things, of course, get hairy. Hijinks and action ensue.

Though All Systems Red is a short book, I was impressed with its pacing. There was enough action throughout to keep me engaged without overwhelming me. Too much action is exhausting, and Martha Wells’ excellently written tension breaks were both relevant and necessary. I loved Murderbot’s inner monologues and witty comebacks. I loved the quirky characters, the worldbuilding, and the ominous ‘Company’ that rents out SecUnits (Lethal Company, anyone?). My only complaint seems to be a common one—I disliked the ending, and it seems everyone else did, too.

But I’m hopeful for the next installment. Now, excuse me, I have a Murderbot show to watch.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆☆

My Husband
by Maud Ventura
Spoiler-Free Review.

I had high hopes for this emotional thriller from French author Maud Ventura, and while I was unsatisfied with the ending (are you sensing a theme here?), I still enjoyed my readthrough.

My Husband follows an unnamed woman who, after 15 years of marriage, is still obsessed with her husband. She plans every interaction, recounts every conversation, and probably has a jar of his toe clippings somewhere in her closet. (That isn’t in the book by the way, I just think it wouldn’t be out of character.) Our protagonist is unhinged and flawed, and readers sit uncomfortably through the slow, meticulous actions she takes throughout each day to capture her husband’s heart.

The book is slow-paced and extremely detailed. Every action our narrator takes is described. We know what she’s doing, why she’s doing it, and what she thinks about it at all times. I could see this bothering some readers, but I thought it was an excellent choice. With a protagonist as complex and manipulative as this, every action adds to her characterization and the building suspense. We are fully exposed to her mind, and it’s a dark place to be.

The book’s epilogue was unsatisfying. It read like a last-minute twist to add a climactic conclusion, and while the epilogue wasn’t necessarily inconsistent with the narrative, it felt out of tone. I would have preferred the book to end at the last chapter. Still, I enjoyed my time. I recommend My Husband to anyone that enjoyes thrillers or unhinged ladies.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆☆

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Spoiler-Free Review.

Here we go, it’s the lean green ninja team.1

I requested a NetGalley Advanced Reader's Copy (ARC) for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Volume 1 and did a little dance when my request was approved. As a kid, I had crushes on both Casey Jones and Raphael (sue me), and I was sat for the Michael Bay movies. So, yeah, I’m a TMNT fan.

This volume is the first in a new series and a continuation of the previous comics. The volume features six different artists (Jason Aaron, Joëlle Jones, Rafael Albuquerque, Cliff Chang, Chris Burnham, Darick Robertson, and Juan Ferreyra) and was written by Jason Aaron.

Set after the brothers have gone their separate ways, this series kicks off with a darker tone while keeping the heart and humor expected from the TMNT. With Shredder gone, Karai is the leader of the Foot Clan, and she isn’t backing down. Under the weight of Karai and a new minor villain, the brothers are forced back together—but things aren’t the same.

This volume is fit for all ages, but it seems like Penguin Random House was targeting an older audience this time. It makes sense considering anyone familiar with the comics or movies (ignoring Mutant Mayhem 2023, which was an absolute blast, or Rise of the TMNT 2018-2020) is into or past their 20s (shoutout to anyone who grew up with the 80s cartoon, you’re the real TMNT Veterans here). The tension, stakes, and character arcs have a grim tone unbefitting of the lighthearted pizza-loving standard, though it wasn’t overbearing.

Each of the brothers gets their own chapter early on to let readers (new and old) catch up on what paths they’ve taken. Michaelangelo is a movie star. Leonardo goes on a spiritual journey. Raphael is in prison. Donatello…well, I’ll let you read what happens to him. We get cameos from beloved faces like April O'Neal, Casey Jones, and Bebop and Rocksteady.

All in all, Volume 1 was an exciting introduction to a new arc for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’m invested in seeing where things go from here, and if the brothers can put their differences aside to defeat Karai.

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆☆☆

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In my sophomore year of high school, we were tasked with choosing a dystopia to read and write an essay on. 1984 was an option, but my eyes went to The Long Walk by Stephen King (which is now being adapted into a movie). I graduated high school. I got my B.A. in English. I was accepted into grad school, and still, I hadn’t read 1984. What kind of English student was I to have not read fucking 1984?

So I picked it up from my local library and cracked it open.

What initially surprised me about the book was the lack of subtlety I expect from most classics. It read like a true speculative science fiction with the exposition dumps and layered worldbuilding that I struggle to find in most literary fiction, though I went in completely blind (somehow, I’d managed to avoid everything about the book’s actual content) and expected the highly metaphorical purple prose of a standard mandatory school read.

I can easily see my teenage self not enjoying this book. I didn’t know enough about the world at sixteen to have appreciated it like I do now at twenty-four, and would have written it off as another ‘old book for old people.’ Ah, youth. But I finished 1984 with interest and ease.

What I found most interesting was the book’s exploration of truth and reality. The Party’s manipulation of information and history, their fabrication of ‘the enemy’ (fake wars, fake manifestos), and the subsequent gaslighting all create a kind of new ‘reality.’ When reading the final act, where Winston is physically and mentally tortured to ‘cure’ him of refusing this fabricated reality, the book poses the question: Who controls the truth? In modern America, the answer to that question is disheartening.

I’m happy I waited to read 1984. The book’s pacing, characters, and explorations of sexual repression and identity kept me turning the pages. As a protagonist, Winston was flawed and generally dislikeable, and I think that was the point. He’s sexually and psychologically repressed, exhausted from maintaining a public persona, and has no meaningful relationships. That’s what the Party wants from its citizens. I’d be pretty unlikeable, too.

There are quite a few other classics I avoided with a ten-foot pole as a teenager: The Picture of Dorian Gray, Wuthering Heights, and Pride and Prejudice. Stay tuned for more “I Finally Read…” by subscribing below!

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Rejection sucks in all forms, but there’s a certain twisting of the knife when it comes to a rejection of your craft. Writers around the world (especially my fellow poets) know the crushing weight of reading “unfortunately” in a response email—if they’re lucky enough to even get a response.

I first submitted to a literary magazine (specifically Lightspeed Mag) when I was twenty and thought I’d written the most amazing fiction anyone could have the pleasure of reading. I thought I was a genius. I patiently awaited my acceptance letter and a nice little check. Instead, I received a brief and polite rejection three months after my submission. I was devastated. I thought I’d had it. Was I not as good as I thought I was? What was I missing?

This was the first of a series of rejections.

Read more

STAR RATING: ☆☆☆☆☆
Spoiler-free Review.

Irredeemable villains. Cool mentors. Complex magic systems. Female protagonist. Monsters. Fuck yeah.

My checked boxes aside, Mistborn was a refreshing and exciting read. I finished the book’s third act in one sitting because I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was my first Brandon Sanderson read and I finally understand what all the fuss is about. I’ll definitely be returning to finish this series and start another of his.

Mistborn answers the question: What if the chosen one failed?

Set in a dying world under the oppressive thumb of the Lord Ruler, an omnipotent being that’s enslaved half the population, a lowly street kid named Vin learns she’s capable of higher powers. Under the mentorship of Kelsier, the only known person to have survived the Lord Ruler’s slave camp and escaped his clutches, Vin dives headfirst into rebellion and political intrigue. Though the premise itself isn’t anything new—young girl learns she has powers and fights against the Evil Guy—Sanderson weaves in unique power structures, creative worldbuilding, and fleshed out characters that make Mistborn stand out.

My absolute least favorite plot device is when the main villain, who has killed or oppressed thousands, is somehow redeemed or made to feel sorry for (looking at you Steven Universe, Throne of Glass, and Falling Kingdoms). In Mistborn, the Lord Ruler and his goons are irredeemable pieces of shit. They’re scary. They’re powerful. The villains raise the stakes and keep audiences guessing at how our group of ragtag protagonists will outmaneuver a literal immortal.

Our main lead, Vin, is an untrusting and paranoid seventeen year old. She struggles to find alliances and fit in, and watching her character progression was so rewarding. I felt like her big sister. I giggled at her romances, I smiled at her achievements, and I was stressed on her behalf. She’s cold but not unkind. She’s clever but not undefeatable. She felt like a real person with flaws and goals of her own.

One thing I respected about Mistborn was Sanderson doesn’t shy away from the realistic parts of oppression, but also doesn’t write dark themes gratuitously. There are protagonists that succumb to harmful rhetoric against their own people. There are threats of gender-based violence from powerful men. There’s desensitization to violence. There are people who intellectualize revolution without partaking in it. There are some books (cough Divergent) that don’t seem to understand how corruption and oppression actually work, but Sanderson seems to have done his research.

There isn’t much more I can say without getting into spoilers. I recommend this book to anyone who likes high stakes fantasy or underdog stories.

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