Fantasy

This one of those rare books that made me think “how does someone come up with this?” The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is a difficult book to describe or categorize due to how many different elements and themes it incorporates, but one thing that is easy to summarize is how ambitious and beautiful V. E. Schwab’s writing is. And by that I don’t mean flowery lyrical language or awe inspiring visuals (which the book does feature at times), but by its poignant pondering and wistfully quiet tone coupled with incredible portrayals of emotions. This is all on top of a wildly creative premise that takes the common plot of an immortal person and devil deal and runs in a completely new direction. I will attempt to review just why I found this book to be brilliant in execution shortly (i personally was in awe of the book despite not necessarily being emotionally attached to it like many other readers were), but know that this is easily one of the most impressive and critically strong books I’ve read since getting back into reading. I initially had mild reservations about the premise on paper considering it vaguely sounded like some other…

Creatively whimsical, The Dallergut Dream Department Store fits nicely into the cozy magical realism/fantasy-feel genre that admittedly is normally not my thing. Lee’s debut novel follows a similar formula of other Asian-translated cozy reflective stories in a similar style of Kawaguchi’s Before the Coffee Gets Cold or Aoyama’s What You Are Looking for is in the Library. However unlike many books it’s drawn similarities to, The Dallergut Dream Department Store is presented in a far more whimsical manner that focuses on the Dream Village and the inner workings of how dreams are created, sold, and used by sleeping customers. Like those other novels, there isn’t much of an overall plot or storyline as the main character Penny serves as a surrogate for the reader experiencing and learning about the Dallergut Dream Store. While I wasn’t necessarily hooked by this book, I was impressed by its creativity and appreciative of how well it accomplished what it was trying to do with its premise. At just over 200 pages, it’s also an incredibly easy and breezy read that you can pick up and put down casually without sacrificing details or the reading experience. Cozy reads are typically not my go-to genre, and…

Described as an urban fantasy (or rather urban supernatural?) novel with a polyamorous setup between the main characters, I spent the entire first half of the novel baffled at what I was reading and what the book was trying to accomplish. Despite an intriguing synopsis detailing a plot with a demon contract, the occult, and a secret society, all of these seemingly interesting plot elements felt sidelined for character relationships and drama. I had to ask a friend who also read this to see if this would be considered romantasy or rather, romance-supernatural since it kept making bizarre relationship-focused choices that sacrificed time that could’ve been spent on the main plot. That’s fine if a book commits and does a deep dive into that, after all the romance crossover genres are thriving. However, despite spending almost all of its time on its poly relationships, Evocation unfortunately fails to make that focus interesting to read or care about. I will be the first to admit that I am not well-read in the dynamics or structure of polyamorous relationships (watching a few Anthony Padilla interview videos on the matter probably isn’t enough to count). However, my problems and disinterest with the content…

The House in the Cerulean Sea has a plot, genre and tone that ordinarily isn’t quite my taste, but T.J. Klune’s execution and lowkey sarcastic humor kept me going. Hopefully optimistic, sweet, and a very comfortable easy read, this is not my typical read but it’s still a novel I don’t regret picking up. The plot is predictable and some extended metaphors and social commentary are a bit on the nose (this has a tone and approach better suited for YA, apart from a few rare adult-natured jokes), but it’s unapologetically warm and has so much mass-appeal. Other reviews describing The House in the Cerulean Sea as a modern fairy tale are quite appropriate. The style of narration told from the perspective of the main character Linus Baker evokes that nostalgic fairy tale feel that’s felt through Klune’s descriptive visuals and dialogue (the house for example screams fantasy fairy tale aesthetic, including the gorgeous interpretation on the cover). While reading this, I could instantly see this being adapted as either an animated or live-action miniseries. Linus Baker is a refreshing, atypical main character aged 40, overweight, uptight, queer, no frills government worker who serves as the perfect foil to the…

Reading Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London series is usually a good, but often mildly frustrating time for me as they’re decently fun reads that are so close to being excellent. Book number three, Whispers Under Ground, is unquestionably the most tonally consistent and focused story so far that improves upon all my biggest criticisms of the previous installments. While Midnight Riot/Rivers of London (I’ll be referring to book 1 as Midnight Riot for consistency) and Moon Over Soho suffered from overly loose, meandering plots that attempted to weave together two separate cases, Whispers Under Ground smartly focuses on just one case and allows its dry, tongue-in-cheek British style to be front and center. Despite the improvements across the board, unfortunately I found the core mystery investigation to suffer from inconsistent pacing yet again and the culprit/reveal to be rather random which holds this back from a higher rating. Each novel in the series so far has had an underlying theme that’s tied to the magical crime case and some type of fantasy element/being; Midnight Riot was themed to the theatre while Moon Over Soho was heavily Jazz-focused. Whispers Under London’s thematic flair is the visual fine arts (though one could…