Review: The Lost by Sarah Beth Durst

January 13, 2026 in Book Reviews | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

The heroine of Sarah Beth Durst’s new edition of The Lost is named Lauren Chase, a young everywoman working an anonymous corporate job in Los Angeles, and whose mother is fighting a losing battle with illness. While waiting for another round of seemingly endless test results to arrive, none of which have been good, Lauren snaps, and instead of going home, just keeps driving — aimless except for the desire to not face the latest bad news. When the dust settles, she finds herself in the town of Lost, the literal place all lost things go: socks from the dryer, your spare pair of glasses, that shirt you loved in tenth grade, and yes, even people who’ve lost their way/purpose/family or sense of self.

What follows is an episode of The Twilight Zone in the best way! There are many people trapped in Lost, surviving by scavenging for food and other necessities from the constant stream of lost items that materialize. While in this state of limbo, they have a chance to come to terms with the reasons they are lost and thus return to the real world. Some manage this with help from a couple of mystical figures, but others do not, they lose all hope and eventually fade away into dust.

Lauren must confront her actions and come to understand how she lost her way if she hopes to return to the real world. Along the way, she forms a found family with a lost girl and the enigmatic “Finder,” a mysterious man with supernatural powers who can find people who are lost and bring them to the town, giving them a chance to discover where their life went off the rails — if they are strong enough to face their truth.

The Lost is pleasingly surprising, as Durst turns some of the cliches of self-help and radical honesty on their head. At one point we meet a messiah figure, “The Lost Man,” who appears to symbolize redemption if you follow the path, and for one horrible moment we think we’re in some cliched and obvious religious parable, only for the man to run away powerless when he meets Lauren. Symbolically, we see the orthodoxy of simplistic solutions blow away in the wind, and Lauren must find her own truth through experience. 

The rules of the world of Lost are slowly revealed, and the relationship between the characters deepen in satisfying and unexpected steps, building an interesting novel that is slightly uncategorizable: part romance, part self-discovery manual, all fantastical and rather wondrous. The audiobook is ably narrated, and The Lost is an enjoyable and thought-provoking journey.

Some random thoughts — with the caveat that I enjoyed the book, ‘cos rereading these makes me feel I’m being a little glass-half-empty. [Warning: spoilers ahead!]  [TW: Suicide, Depression]

The publisher describes this edition as an updated and expanded version of Durst’s original 2014 novel. Among other things, the ending has apparently been re-written. Whether that means changed or not, I can’t comment, not having a copy of the 2014 version to hand.

Endings:

This book kinda didn’t know how to end. Like the movie version of The Return of the King, there were multiple points that would have made perfectly fine endings, but somehow there was another chapter right after, then another, and another. Was this a good thing? I’m not sure. I would have been fine with the book ending on a more symbolic level and not tying up every little thing. But, no hate to anyone who can’t stand dangling threads.

Sometimes there is a perfect place to read a book:

I was in Kissimmee, Florida for a week and was listening to The Lost on audio book while running errands. Kissimmee is not the most well-to-do or clean-cut part of Florida, so it felt like the perfect place to read this book. I constantly passed one run-down hotel that has been vandalized — completely trashed! — and had the piles of garbage everywhere just as Durst describes the town of Lost in the book. (I suspect it’s the same location used in the film The Florida Project. — A great film, BTW! Check it out if you haven’t seen it.) I’d pass homeless people everyday that looked like they could have walked straight off the pages of the book.

Not sure if I’m observing that SBD is a canny observer of life, or if her imaginings are incredibly realistic, but either way, that aspect of the book really felt almost too realistic.

Real-world vs. fantasy world:

There is a certain amount of going back and forth between Lauren’s real world and the world of Lost. Lauren’s real world appears identical to our “real world,” which creates an interesting subtext about sanity and suicide when Lauren returns to her real world, but instantly wants to return to Lost. If both Lauren’s real world and the world of the Lost were more clearly fantasy worlds different to ours, then we might have read her need to return to Lost as romantic (which I think was the intention), but instead it feels more like she’s committing suicide. So, what seems intended as a romantic emotional peak, didn’t quite land for me. 

Thanks to Harlequin Audio, who supplied an audiobook for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions my own.

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My review of The Enchanted Greenhouse by Sarah Beth Durst

First year of vinyl records

December 31, 2025 in Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Jack shows off his vinyl haul

A year ago, we had no record player and only the vaguest interest in getting one. Then my better half came back from Target with a special four-disc edition of Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poets Department: the Anthology. So, I popped off to our local indie record store and came home with a nice starter turntable, and I splurged on mid-range speakers. Over the course of 2025 we expanded our fledgling record collection.

At first, I tried to have strict rules about what I’d buy on vinyl: stone cold classics, must-have records, in order to enjoy the improved audio quality and the sense of ritual that spinning records involves. The record player wasn’t something to introduce me to new music: that’s what YouTube is for. And those classics had to be albums/artists both my wife and I love, because other than some core artists, we have fairly different musical taste. In practical terms, this means the sweet spot comprises Bowie, Prince, Taylor, U2, and most 80’s classics. Some fairly solid beginnings to any record collection: The Rise & Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, The Joshua Tree, 1989, and Purple Rain — in the order we found the albums. 

Naturally, browsing record stores started to throw up interesting discs that didn’t conform to this superficial rule. A bargain bin revealed Lone Justice’s Shelter (1986) for $2. I am a huge Maria McKee fan, but other than being familiar with the few Lone Justice tracks she’d play in live shows, I’d never went back to systematically explore her early days. So, how could I resist? Unsurprisingly, that album is fabulous! McKee’s songwriting vivid and already more accomplished than most of her peers. A couple of tracks hinted at the torch songs to come on her debut three years later. Days later, I found the first Lone Justice record at a used book store, so almost immediately I was purchasing albums of material I didn’t know, breaking one of my self imposed rules.

The used bins at Harvest Records quickly became one of my favorite things, and a constant source of temptation. I found myself drawn to those albums that were around in high school, that I’d heard constantly, but which I’d never actually owned. The Police’s Synchronicity (1983) started me down the slippery slope — it was every bit as vital as I remembered. UB40’s Labour of Love (1983) was another score, and one that my wife also enjoyed. Tori Amos’s Little Earthquakes (1992) was an obsession born in my college years, and an album I’d only ever owned dubbed copies of. I snapped up a used vinyl and it was like hearing it for the first time again.

Inevitably, we fleshed out our favorites: with Taylor Swift records probably getting spun the most over the course of the year, naturally. U2’s The Unforgettable Fire (1984) is one of my keystone albums, so that was an early get. The Under a Blood Red Sky (1983) and Wide Awake in America (1985) EPs were picked up used. I came across various interesting 12-inchs, but decided to impose another rule: no singles. I don’t want to slip into the completist mentality. (Having culled my enormous library of books down from 5,000+ to around 500, I’ve come to resent anything that takes up too much shelf space.) Anyway, I already have almost everything U2 ever recorded digitally…

I don’t think we really appreciate how amazing it is to find a 40-year-old record in a bargain bin for a couple bucks, take it home, pop it on a turntable, and it still works! The number of digital storage mediums I’ve used in the same amount of time that are now obsolete and unreadable is staggering! 

Finding these other records reminded me that somewhere in my parents’ attic there’s (hopefully) at least some of my original records, so I’m loathe to repurchase things that might turn up in a box later. (Then again, I’ve long suspected those records were absorbed into my brother’s truly stunning vinyl collection — rooms full! — although he doesn’t think so. Maybe they’ll show up, or maybe not?) I can’t quite remember what all I had, but I know I had a lot of early U2 on vinyl, probably up through War (1983), and I bought most of the singles from the Joshua Tree-era on 12-inch because it was the only way to hear the B-sides before streaming. (The first time I realized I have the collector gene.)

I purchased vinyls and cassettes indiscriminately for a few years in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s, but I don’t remember if I had any hard rules that governed which format I wanted. Not everything was available in both back then, so I suspect that fact mostly guided my choices. After I moved into my first apartment, I travelled light (no car) and did not own a record player, so I consumed most of my music through the headphones of my knock-off Walkman. 

Starting a vinyl collection gives us a chance to correct some omissions and retrospectively atone for our musical sins. I absolutely slept on The Waterboys in 1985, considering “The Whole of the Moon” a good song, but not being even slightly curious about the band. In retrospect, I just wasn’t ready for Mike Scott’s lyrical intensity, but over the years they’ve become a firm favorite; so, I added a copy of the 2024 re-issue of This is the Sea to the rotation.

The original bare-bones setup

Inevitably, musical choices began to create a little friction. Inspired by my enjoyment of Synchronicity, I began picking up other used Police albums, leading my better half to bemoan the frequency they got played. The hits are one thing, but having to tolerate “Mother” too often is probably considered torture in some parts of the world. In my defense, when you don’t have a lot of records, you end up playing the ones you do have more often. I expect this problem will self-correct as time goes on.

A side effect of buying a turntable is becoming a person with opinions about record stores. Many stores are absolutely taking the piss with their prices. We have 7 or 8 record stores within a reasonably short drive, but only one (Harvest) manages the balance between a wide selection, the foot traffic to ensure a quick turnover of used vinyl, weekly new releases, and maintaining generally “fair” pricing.

When traveling, I now google for recommendations of record stores in cities where I’ll be spending time, and I’ve found a couple of good stores, along with some very hit and miss (mostly miss) places. CD Cellar in Falls Church, Virginia, is an awesome store! Papa Jazz in Columbia, SC is pretty great, too — I scored a great used copy of CHVRCHES Screen Violence (2021) there! 

My evolving old-guy gripes about records today:

I’m happy to buy remastered recordings or new pressings of classic albums, but for the love of all that’s holy, stop splitting albums onto double vinyl. I find it hugely irritating to listen to three songs and have to get up to flip the side, especially as I have a vivid sense memory of the next song coming in seamlessly. Albums that were originally released on single disc should not be split into two when you aren’t adding new material.  

RSD is mostly creating deluxe editions for collectors, not average fans. The one thing I found over the last year that was a must-have is U2’s “shadow album” of material from the “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb” sessions. New material — and I would suggest stronger tracks than those included on Dismantle — that’s what I’m interested in, not reissues on colored vinyl or nondescript live recordings. 

But, at the end of the day, I don’t think we really appreciate how amazing it is to find a 40-year-old record in a bargain bin for a couple bucks, take it home, pop it on a turntable, and it still works! The number of digital storage mediums I’ve used in the same amount of time that are now obsolete and unreadable is staggering! 

Review: An Archive of Romance by Ava Reid

December 9, 2025 in Book Reviews, Uncategorized | Tags: | Leave a comment

The presumed end of Ava Reid’s A Study in Drowning series concerns the preparations for Effy and Preston’s wedding. An Archive of Romance is a short novella that picks up a year after the events of A Theory of Dreaming. We catch up with Effy, Preston, and their crew of friends in a light-hearted short story concerning the trivial joys of dress shopping and the perils of composing your wedding-vows, with a little library research thrown in. This is a light-hearted and joyful story (light-academia, if you will), particularly as the interplay between the leads and their friends was one of the highlights of A Theory of Dreaming. 

The new story is preceded by a retelling of the first two books through images, mainly pages of Effy and Preston’s notebooks, pages from various texts with their handwritten notes, letters, tickets, architectural drawings, and many of Effy’s sketches. This is reinforced with some portraits of Effy, Preston, Angharrad, and the Fairy King. The highlight is perhaps the map of their world that was sadly missing from A Theory of Dreaming — honestly, is a fantasy novel without a map really a fantasy novel? 

It’s quite enjoyable to recap their adventures through the ephemera of their work, and it occasionally highlights qualities that were subtextual in the novels, such as Effy’s upper-class background, which Preston remarks upon in his journals, but was never really spelled out. A pretentious family who regard a non-conforming child as an embarrassment could come from any social background, really!

We also pick up little nuggets of info on their world a year on from A Theory of Dreaming. Effy is no longer the only female student in the literature college, Preston is teaching, and Myrrdin’s name is being removed from the university. 

All in all, this is an enjoyable (albeit slight) coda to Effy and Preston’s story. The art might not be to everyone’s taste, but if you loved the world of A Study in Drowning, you’ll enjoy spending more time there. 

Thanks to HarperCollins Children’s Books, who supplied an ebook for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions my own.

As always, thanks to my local library, who have a fabulous catalog of contemporary fantasy and loaned me copies of the first books in this series (and they tolerate my repeated renewals).

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On DNFs and Cozy Fantasy

November 13, 2025 in Book Reviews | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

A cat = instant cozy vibes, right?


As a reader, I’ve been enjoying a great of run of good books this year, many of which have been cozy fantasies, yet I’ve seen numerous posts, blogs, and comments online whining that that cozy fantasies are poorly written or that nothing much happens. I feel like these readers are only after surface-level thrills, and are strangely oblivious to the high emotional stakes of cozy fantasy. Honestly, those claims generally say more about people’s lack of emotional sensitivity than cozy fantasy authors’ lack of inventiveness. As I’ve blogged plenty about the books I enjoyed this year, I thought I should spend a little time considering the ones I was disappointed by to see if there’s any validity to these accusations.

This year, I’ve set three cozy fantasies aside unfinished (DNF: Did Not Finish), and soldiered on through a couple I might have put aside at other times. I also took chances on several independently published books, only one of which, I felt, could be accused of being poorly written.

Only that one book was a complete bust. I won’t name it, because I’ve worked in publishing long enough to know that every book has its readers, and what one person sees as bad writing can still be highly enjoyable to others. I felt like it was simply a first draft, with thin characters and protagonists whose actions seemed to be motivated principally by the writer’s need to showcase their world building, rather than solve the central narrative question. Annoyingly, I can’t discount the act that is was actually written by AI and never even given a cursory edit. (I doubt this, but only because the author referenced their editor in posts marketing the book on social media.) Many scenes felt like notes about what the scene could be or the emotions it should convey. 

This author had independently published several other books, and author friends were singing their praises — which might make me give less weight to the testimony of those particular authors in future. The book in question had a relatively slick marketing campaign, a great cover, and an apparently simple concept, so I was very disappointed to discover such an undercooked story — although I finished the whole thing, desperate to find some redeeming quality that explained why these authors had been championing it! With hindsight, the lack of details combined with the great cover, predisposed readers like me to like the idea of the book, while leaving enough space for us to really be projecting our own ideas onto the book. This is after all the whole point of a book cover! But honestly, it’s not often you find a book so much less professionally written than its marketing campaign. Oh, well, chalk that one up as a learning opportunity — while making note of the good marketing tactics! 

That one disappointment aside, the main reason I set books aside or otherwise didn’t connect with them was generally my inability to connect with the narrative voice, rather than a lack of incident. The voice thing I won’t hold against an author. Writers try out different narrative techniques for different novels, and ultimately whether I find them irritating or revelatory is probably more to do with my mood or patience at the time. I’ll confess that one of the books I DNF’d was The House in the Cerulean Sea, and that was purely because I didn’t care for the narrative style. (I should try it again next year, as I have friends who absolutely love it!) I considered abandoning Sydney Shield’s The Honey Witch because I found the narration a little distancing (constantly telling, not showing), but, thankfully, I got over that, became fond of the characters, and enjoyed the book overall. But, not connecting with the narrative voice is not a factor unique to the genre — I put both Sally Rooney and Donal Ryan aside after a few chapters before picking their books up months or years later and loved them on the second attempt! 

Lack of incident was really only the reason I DNF’d one book this year (but should have abandoned one other). Occasionally, yes, it can feel like a character is journeying around a fantasy land only to showcase the world building — and while I do love extensive world building, I need the breadcrumbs of an actual narrative need and something clearly driving the protagonist’s decisions along the way. Legends and Lattes gets a lot of unjustified grief for a supposed lack of incident, but I have to wonder: what exactly those complainers were expecting? While a lot of Viv’s dialogue is internal and her battles are low key and mostly with her own fears, the stakes feel extremely high for her, and Baldree makes us feel this and generally relate to a reformed Orc mercenary to a degree that I wouldn’t have predicted.

At its heart, cozy fantasy often concerns characters pursuing their dreams (Viv in Legends; Arleta in J. Penner’s A Fellowship of Bakers & Magic; Kianthe and Reyna in Rebecca Thorne’s Tomes & Tea series) or otherwise trying to build a new life, often fearing death (of themselves or others) could be the price of failure (Kiela in The Spellshop and Terlu in The Enchanted Greenhouse, both by Sarah Beth Durst; Emily in Heather Fawcett’s Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries and sequels). Baldree’s latest, Brigands and Breadknives, may involve more traditional fantasy tropes (Sword Fights! Daring Escapes! Danger at every turn!) but at its heart is about Fern, a timid rattkin bookseller who dares to change her life. Starting over in life, taking a huge chance to follow a dream, these are not endeavors for the faint of heart, and anyone who doesn’t understand that simply hasn’t yet experienced enough.

As I have about ten more cozy fantasies on my holds list at the library and a couple of unread purchases already on the TBR pile, I won’t be done with this genre for a while yet. I hope to marinate in the cozy vibes and emotional stakes for many months to come. 

Acknowledgements:

Thanks to Sweeter Than Fiction bookshop in Charleston, SC, who handsold The Honey Witch, and the Asheville/Buncombe Library system, for being awesome!

This article includes affiliate links. If you click on a link and make a purchase, a commission may be generated at no extra cost to you.

Review: Brigands & Breadknives by Travis Baldree

November 4, 2025 in Book Reviews | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Brigands & Breadknives takes up a few years after Legends & Lattes, but this time the protagonist is Fern, the rattkin bookseller we met in the prequel novel, Bookshops & Bonedust.

Fern has sold up and decided to move to the city to open a new bookshop beside her old friend Viv, the Orc who gave up a life of mercenary marauding to open a coffee shop. She is hoping that a little of Viv’s act of reinvention will rub off on her, but things don’t quite go according to plan.

Unusually for a cozy novel (or any commercial story structured by a writer shaped by the western creative-writing-industrial-complex — and MFA-holding or not, aren’t we all?) Fern doesn’t have a simple want that drives the plot: she has a massive raw need, a desperate ache for a renewed sense of purpose, an unfocused desire for reinvention that she can’t articulate. At the macro level, Fern is undergoing a mid-life crisis, something we don’t often see approached sensitively or even addressed in fantasy fiction. 

The story takes place more than two decades after we last saw Fern in Bookshops & Bonedust, and Fern is looking for her second act. She thinks moving to a new city and setting up a new bookshop beside her old friend will fill the void of meaning in her life. Viv and Tandri seem to think that introducing her to their rattkin baker, Thimble, might cause romantic sparks to fly and Fern might then find the same happiness that they have. But, instead she gets drunk, takes an ill-advised night-time wander through the still-unfamiliar city, and finds herself many miles from civilization and in the company of a famous elf warrior, her mischievous chaos-goblin prisoner, and a talking sword. 

A series of trials and tribulations follow as Fern comes to care for her new friends and discover that despite the cold, the damp, and the pretty constant risk of death or dismemberment, she rather enjoys life on the road!

It’s an interesting departure from the cozy fantasy template of characters taking pleasure in pursuing a relatively mundane dream in the face of bureaucratic and/or emotional hurdles. It’s hard to convey cozy vibes when your characters are cold, wet, or wounded, miles from any semblance of home, and unsure of who to trust, but somehow Travis Baldree manages it (from time to time, anyway). Perhaps this book should more-accurately be labeled plain old fantasy, if labels are required at all?

Unlike the western (character-driven) tradition, this is more of a picaresque adventure, where our heroes meet a series of colorful adversaries and conquer various challenges. It is perhaps a more ambitious novel than typically found in traditional fantasy; concerned with self-actualization as much or more so than sword fights — although there are plenty of those! That the novel still barrels along at a fast pace and entertains wildly is a testament to the author’s light touch and sense-of-humor.

It’s an interesting turn for cozy fantasy to take. A lot of the appeal of cozy fantasy has been the low-stakes escapism; readers seem to be attracted to tales of self-determination and reinvention — something that seems to be very much on people’s mind over the last few years. Authors like Sarah Beth Durst have charmed us with characters reinventing their lives in the face of chaotic revolution and instability; Travis Baldree initially focused on an individual radically changing their situation, daring to do more than dream of a better life; and Rebecca Thorne followed that impulse to take the story of individuals pursuing their dream one step further, to using that dream to change society itself. Brigands & Breadknives explores the despair that people face, the ache felt when they realize the life they lead, despite its physical comfort, is not fulfilling, but lack a clear sense of what they should be pursuing instead. In other hands this would be a downer of a story, but with his empathy, compassion, and ability to evoke wonder, Travis Baldree turns Fern’s dark night of the soul into a warm tale of found family, adventure, and fresh horizons.

—

Many writers have made the observation that it’s hard to write for happy characters: they have no needs or wants other than more of the same. (I’ll credit Shonda Rhimes for the observation in this case, as I remember her citing it to explain why they had to kill Derek Shepard off after he and Meredith were finally a happy family — although I’m pretty sure Julian Fellows cited the same “rule” to explain why they killed off Matthew Crawley in Downton Abbey…) Hence, Viv and Tandri take a backseat in this book, even though it is a chronological sequel to Legends & Lattes, because they appear to still be happy at this point in time. 

Many romantasy/cozy fantasies seem to be well aware of the risk that happy endings can pose for their series potential, and are building in an ensemble of charming, vivid characters into their debuts to carry the hoped-for sequels. J. Penner’s Adenashire series begins with an Elvish “Great British Baking Show” to pack the court with feisty, snarky bakers who eventually become fast friends to take up the series momentum in future books after Arleta, the heroine of A Fellowship of Bakers & Magic, gets her (inevitable) happy ending. Other authors (like Sarah Beth Durst, who had to reanimate a background character we never even met in the first book in order to craft a sequel to her wildly successful cozy The Spellshop!) have to stretch a little further to find the through-line that readers will accept their new book as a sequel — because publishers know it’s easier to market a sequel to something successful! 

“Words can only go out of me. None can come in. They pass through my mind without a trace when I try to read a page. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that in my life, not once. Pretty terrible liability for a bookseller!” — Fern

Personally, I probably related to Fern a little too closely, as she’s (a.) foul-mouthed, and (b.) a life-long bookseller who can’t find satisfaction in her work anymore. When I’m not writing my own stories, I can get to a point where I can’t bear to read or watch other people’s stories. Then I knuckle down and get the creative juices flowing again, and feel enough equilibrium to be able to engage with the work of other writers again. Fern finds herself crossing a similar rubicon, from reader to writer. Leaving one life behind without the scaffolding of a new one in place. It’s certainly not cozy, but can be an essential stage if one aspires to living out one’s fantasies.

Disclaimers:

Many thanks to MacMillan Audio for the review copy of Brigands & Breadknives via NetGalley. All opinions my own.

Rereading The Dragonriders of Pern

November 1, 2025 in Book Reviews, Literary Musings | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

I have been a big Anne McCaffrey fan for decades. My partner introduced me to the Dragonriders of Pern series and our local library introduced me to the many, many other worlds McCaffrey had explored. When I was a student, and taking my own fumbling first steps as a writer, I found her email address on her blog, reached out, and we became email buddies for awhile. My wife and I visited her at her home in Ireland, which was a wonderful experience. I read all the Dragonriders novels, and while working as a bookseller I had the privilege of introducing a great many readers to the series. We’ve had a whole shelf of her novels for years, but I hadn’t read the Dragonriders series in a long time. So, given my year-long immersion in contemporary fantasy, cosy fantasy, and romantasy by female authors, I went back and started reading from the beginning.

As I remembered, the characters are strong, vivid, and believable: teenage Lessa with her unquenchable thirst for justice; F’lar with his unshakable conviction that Thread is returning and only he can prepare their world to survive it; Robinton with his essential decency and uncommon ability to persuade petty politicians to see the bigger picture; Jaxon’s growing awareness and determination to be worthy of Lytol’s guidance; so many vivid, struggling, and memorable characters — and that’s just the human ones! The dragons and the world of Pern are lovingly and expansively drawn. This world is still a joy to spend time in. But, there’s a side to the books that I’d forgotten… or simply didn’t find remarkable at the time.

The level of casual violence against women is honestly shocking after the societal progress of the past fifty years. The first books were written in the mid-1970s, when striking or shaking a woman was if not exactly socially accepted, at least normalized. For example, even in the “loving” relationships depicted in these novels, a man will shake a woman if she disagrees with him too much. There’s a comparative lack of consent for sex: consent is assumed, or the agency is depicted from the man’s point of view only, which might have passed the smell test at the time, but feels very problematic today. 

And then there’s Menolly’s story…

My wife was gifted the Harper Hall trilogy as a coming-of-age present by a friend. This is a beloved trio of novels within the larger series, often marketed towards younger readers. The books tell the story of Menolly, a musically gifted girl (basically Taylor Swift) who grows up in a conservative fishing village where girls can’t be musicians (known as Harpers in the world of Pern), but escapes this narrow-minded world to apprentice at the Harper Hall and become one of the most-important people on Pern. Her efforts to rise above her upbringing are still admirable, her bravery and resourcefulness still inspiring, but the early chapters detailing her life in the remote fishing hold make for very hard reading.

The society on Pern is quasi-feudal, with the lord of the hold having complete power over everyone in it. Her father is conservative, unimaginative, and bound by tradition, and tradition says girls cannot be Harpers. While the old Harper is dying, 15-year-old Menolly cares for him and teaches the children under his instruction. Afterwards, she is banned from teaching in case she deviates from tradition, teaches the children songs that she — a mere girl! — wrote, in case the new Harper (a figure of authority from the larger world beyond her father) is displeased. The father and mother’s treatment of Menolly is brutal. Her father beats her savagely, the mother forces her to do the worst jobs to keep her away from music, and when she injures her hand, medical help is basically withheld because (as they perceive it) a crippled hand would solve the problem by making her unable to play any instrument. To the modern reader, this feels like a society where honor killing would be tolerated, and while I know that every inspirational character must escape a horrible situation in order to come back stronger, this is a far more visceral and terrible childhood than Harry being forced to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs.

This isn’t a reflection on McCaffrey as a writer or as a person, I should stress; instead, I think it’s simply a reflection of what was considered normal at the time — after all, corporal punishment was administratively banned in Irish schools in 1982 (McCaffrey lived in Ireland from 1970 on), but was not completely prohibited until 2015. In the 1970s the physical punishment of children by adults was incredibly common and normalized. (When I started at boarding school in 1982, for example, teachers had just been barred from beating students, but that changed little as the beatings were simply outsourced to the senior students in the name of enforcing social norms.) So, while the books are reflective of the generally accepted way of enforcing power dynamics in the 1970’s, they do make for quite difficult reading today. 

This depiction of casual violence feels different to the violence we see in the current hit “dragonriders” series, Rebecca Yarros’ Fourth Wing. There, Violet and the other cadets are exposed to daily violence from their peers in the name of making them tougher, better warriors. But, we no longer feel that this is a reflection of the reality of the typical high school — as much as the teenage years can feel like a constant war zone when you’re going through it! The violence in Fourth Wing is exaggerated and operatic. When Violet is being tortured by one of her commanders in the second book, the reaction of everyone around her tells us that this is aberrant behavior in their world, very much not business as usual. In contrast, the violence against Menolly is seen as normal by the other adults in the hold, who fail to intervene or criticize, and that’s perhaps the most distasteful aspect of the whole. To be fair, we are clearly not intended to sympathize with Menolly’s father; he is obviously in the wrong. But, he’s not simply a villain like Varrish in Iron Flame, just an ordinary man who doesn’t know any better (as are F’lar and others who occasionally resort to striking or shaking the women they ostensibly care for), and it is that casualness that makes the violence against women in the Dragonriders of Pern books so hard to stomach. 

Disclaimers:

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Publishing Broke Me…

October 9, 2025 in bookselling, Literary Musings | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Publishing finally broke me. A life-long reader, writer, and true-believer in the church of books, I went into bookselling eagerly after college and jumped into publishing a decade later, working first in book marketing and then moving into freelance publicity. I read everything for twenty years — which isn’t always as much fun as you’d think — that feeling of always having homework you haven’t done yet… I blogged, posted, shared, starred, reviewed, and generally told everyone about every book on every possible channel. I networked with booksellers, wrangled reviews, recruited influencers before that was even a term, lobbied for votes and nominations on behalf of others for various lists, marketing programs, and awards, and basically tried to be as good a literary citizen as I could be. Then, before we even had a pandemic to blame for all ills, I found myself unable to read a novel cover to cover.

It wasn’t simply that I couldn’t muster the interest to continue past chapter 2 or 3; I found going into a bookstore to be more than a chore, it became a profoundly depressing experience. Those tables of shiny new books and piles of bestsellers started to repel me, almost at a physical level, like some people are sickened by the first hint of mold, smell of damp, or waft of cat dander. The sameness of the literary mid-list, the formulaic covers of hardcover thrillers, the endless vista of faceless heads, the sea of cartoony images and primary colors all drove me from the bookstore. Such uninspiring copycating spoke to the dull conveyor belt that publishing seemed (to me) to have become. I suspect it was always thus, the industrialization of an art tends towards the endless jumping on bandwagons and the repetition of tropes that are thought to have worked once. <insert obligatory reference to William Goldman here> (“Nobody knowns anything!”—William Goldman, Adventures in the Screen Trade) After 20 years, the industry had finally worn away the tint on my rose-colored glasses.

So, I stopped reading fiction. I stopped reading fiction for about five years! I read nonfiction, I threw myself back into screenwriting, and focused my creative energies on different art forms without any design on monetizing them. I helped make a short film for the first time since film school! I went to a lot of plays. I finished several screenplays, entered competitions, placed (in one, but a start…). I hung out with filmmakers, screenwriters, visual artists. I stopped blogging completely, ceased writing about books for local papers, and generally gave up reviewing books, even casually on social media. It helped that I left publishing and went back to working for booksellers, but this time of the antiquarian variety; I was free from the trade-bookselling calendar for the first time in my professional life, the onslaught of new, highly anticipated books passed me by, and I could read what I felt like. Eventually I deleted most of my blogs (even the award-winning one that largely paid for itself), let my NetGalley account go, and first ignored then deleted Twitter and the network of booksellers and publishing people I’d built there. 

Sure, I was occasionally curious about new fiction. I enjoyed Emily St. John Mandel’s post-Station Eleven books, I read a few gems that I’d bought years earlier but hadn’t got around to (pretty much anything from Tramp Press is highly recommended!) but these were occasional glimmers and didn’t resuscitate my reading habit. I picked up Sally Rooney around the time the hype for Normal People became inescapable, and devoured her backlist. Brilliant writing! It felt like here was somebody doing something different with the novel. But, when I dipped into other literary fiction, I was still left cold. The Booker longlist, historically a source of great enjoyment for me, felt dull, pedestrian, and oddly out of touch. 

Then my wife gave me Deborah Harkness’s A Discovery of Witches and said “You’ll love this!” And I did! That led to devouring the next three books in the series, then binging the TV show, and later scoring an early copy of Black Bird Oracle while in Ireland on vacation! The Wheel of Time TV show reminded me to re-read some of Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time books (long-time favorites!) and generally reawakened my enjoyment of fantasy fiction. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one as I was soon to discover…

Last summer, while spending considerable time in DC for my wife’s work, we heard about an event with fantasy authors at the Library of Congress. Despite having read none of the presenting writers, we went along and had a great night surrounded by fellow nerds, and learning about the new (to us) genre of cozy fantasy from Seanan McGuire and Travis Baldree (both of whom are now favorite authors). Well, we picked up Baldree’s Legends & Latte’s right away and inhaled its sweet scent of cinnamon rolls and coffee, which left us wanting more — and snacks! Cozy fantasy, I have noticed, makes one quite hungry!

I quickly found the cozy fantasy influencers on Instagram which introduced us to Sarah Beth Durst’s wonderful novel The Spellshop and Rebecca Thorne’s brilliant Tomes & Tea series. Friends recommended Heather Fawcett’s atmospheric Emily Wilde series and Naomi Novik’s Temeraire books, as well as many other great reads. This rediscovered enjoyment of fiction inspired a trip to the Taylor Swift-themed romance bookshop “Sweeter Than Fiction” in Charleston, SC, which lead to Sydney Shield’s The Honey Witch, and — since it was the release week for Onyx Storm — introduced us to romantasy. Long story short, Fourth Wing begat Iron Flame and Onyx Storm quickly followed, and now, inevitably, I have begun the ACOTAR odyssey!  

Besides the books themselves, which I find tend to be light-hearted, easy-to-read adventures about relatable heroines, I really enjoy the positivity and creativity of the cozy fantasy and romantasy readers, who spend innumerable hours creating memes, making fan art, or decorating their books. I generally enjoyed meeting readers when I was working at cons and book festivals, but fantasy fans are on another level!

As somebody who now works with rare books as a day job, the renewal of interest in creating DIY book covers and creating your own edge paintings is a fascinating development, as it’s such a throwback to centuries past when bibliophiles truly wanted to make their library their own. People may mock the enthusiasm of bookstagramers, but in these cynical times sharing unironic joy in reading can sometimes feel like a radical act. 

The aesthetics of romantasy and cozy fantasy are also refreshingly different from the rest of the average bookstore. Even though we’re told not to judge a book by its cover, the fantasy / romantasy shelves do stand out in the average bookstore, especially with publishers’ embrace of sprayed and decorated edges, special editions, and complex, colorful covers. I still find the regular lit-fic and thriller sections of bookstores repulsively dull and uninspiring, but the fantasy sections spark joy (to evoke the much-maligned Marie Condo). And, have you been into a Books-a-Million lately? The way that most their stores have been basically transformed into BookTok showrooms is awesome! Row upon row of fantasy and romantasy, bright colorful endcaps, and all manner of non-book merch related to books and fandoms in general — they are the love child between Hot Topic and B&N. Books-a-Million is now pretty much the only bookshop that sparks the same kind of joy in my heart that teenaged me used to experience going into any old bookstore. Unfortunately, I do not live near one  <sad trombone> But, they are now essential stops on all road trips!

Anyway, this post is already longer than intended and has veered off topic. Suffice to say, I’m enjoying reading certain types of fiction after a long time when I simply couldn’t. So, I’m tentatively dipping my toes back into the blogging world and hoping to share some book recs on this, my original blog from a century ago (or 2009, which feels ancient…). It probably won’t be often or particularly in-depth (I don’t want to start feeling like I have homework again!) but I’ll share some books I feel are really good reads. It’s good for my head to focus on the positive and it’s good for the world at large to spread joy. Hope you find a good book or two from my musings.

Disclaimers:

Yes, I’ve got a new NetGalley account. Perks of a career in books is knowing where to go to get early reads!

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Image: Photo of a mouse in a shop window in Vienna, Austria, 2024.

Review: A Theory of Dreaming by Ava Reid

October 6, 2025 in Book Reviews | Tags: , , , , , | 1 comment

The sequel to A Study in Drowning picks up where the first book left off, with our romantic heroes, Effy and Preston, having written their academic paper to reveal the true authorship of their national epic, but (as can be predicted) things do not go the way they expect. The newspapers report that two students have challenged the epic’s authorship, but do not publish or evaluate the claim on its merits. When they reveal the student’s names, it predictably sets the stage for harassment, particularly of Effy. 

On the other hand, Effy does achieve her goal of admission to the literature college, which previously did not accept female students. But, she finds her reception frosty and her classes far more boring than anticipated. She channels her energies into research on the authorship of another of her county’s national epics, and again finds that the true author is a woman. While this makes the same point as the first book, it highlights the habitual erasure of women from so much of popular history, so it didn’t bother me particularly. Effy has clearly found her calling.

While Effy was the prime-mover of the first book, A Theory of Dreaming is primarily Preston’s story. His academic advisor has long sought a way to access the world of magic, and finds the key in Effy and Preston’s research — although how is never quite explained to the reader’s satisfaction. Preston, who has been hearing (and ignoring) bells that nobody else can hear since the first book, gets swept up in his advisor’s rush to test his theory and quickly finds himself walking around in a magical world (“the dreaming”) that seems to contort itself to his wishes, speaking with his dead father, seeing the actual bells that he can hear in the “real world,” and watching a statue of Effy fall apart to mimic her relapse into addiction and depression.

If this seems sudden or unexpected, it’s because it is. It’s jarring to see the logical Preston, who (despite his experiences in the first book) doesn’t believe in gods or magic, try to process this new world and how exactly he can access it with seeming ease. Unlike most fantasy worlds which convey firm rules for magic, there is nothing spelled out here; again, it’s all vibes, but with characters stepping from one world to another with frequency, this feels less easy to accept than before.

I suppose an author is not obliged to do too much world building unless they are writing epic fantasy and the world building is largely the point. But, fleshing out or at least establishing the rules or guiding principles of your magic system seems to be a fundamental aspect of any novel where exploring that magic is a key part of the plot. You can have a ghost appear and interact with the protagonist briefly and get by purely on vibes, but if the protagonist wants to go to ghost world, don’t you at least need some rules of the road?

Effy is unfortunately sidelined for much of the book, turning to her pills and mentally checking out rather than fighting to overcome her demons as she did in the first book, and that feisty, scared but determined girl is missed! While the book considers some very contemporary issues: hostility towards immigrants, the tyranny of old beliefs and habits of mind, and the need for perceived common enemies to prop up a political regime, the story does not move at the pace of A Study in Drowning, and Preston is a less-compelling protagonist. While he’s an honorable man and stout defender of Effy, he never really wrestles with or tries to understand the rules of the dreaming, and he’s a little oblivious to what she’s going through. 

On the plus side, the world of Preston and Effy’s university circle is nicely filled out with a supporting cast of friends and enemies that does bring the university to life and enlivens proceedings nicely.  Fans of dark academia will not be disappointed.

In the end, A Theory of Dreaming feels like a lively but troubling visit with old friends who, you slowly realize, haven’t quite got their lives together yet. 

Disclaimers:

Shoutout to my local library, where I borrowed copies of both A Study in Drowning and A Theory of Dreaming.

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Review: The Enchanted Greenhouse by Sarah Beth Durst

August 26, 2025 in Book Reviews | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 comment

To this reader, it seemed a difficult task to come up with a sequel to Durst’s wonderful novel The Spellshop, because, as was befitting any romance novel, we got the happy ending with all the plot threads tied up… or, so we thought!

Durst had another idea: conscious that one cast member from The Spellshop had a pretty grim ending to her story. Terlu Perna, the young librarian who used forbidden magic to create Caz, the sentient spider plant and comic relief of The Spellshop, had been turned into a wooden statue and left to gather dust in a corner of the great library. So, in The Enchanted Greenhouse, Durst determined to write Terlu’s second act and give her the happy ending that she deserved.

Taking place a short time after the events of The Spellshop (about six years after Terlu was turned to stone), Terlu wakes up in a winter forest. She’s alone and no longer a statue. She discovers that she has somehow come back to life on a remote island with a massive, enchanted greenhouse that seems to host every plant that nature and magic have ever created. She fears she is all alone, until the meets Yarrow, the young, taciturn gardener who tends to the plants, the only other human on the island. 

Quickly, we learn the sad truth that the magic that sustained the greenhouse appears to be dying, and Terlu resolves to help Yarrow in trying to save the plants. Naturally, as the crime she was convicted of originally involved the illegal use of magic to animate a plant, Terlu proves adapt at investigating the old spells used to created the greenhouse and quickly reanimates a host of talking plants, who are able to fill us in on the sorcerer who created the greenhouse and the old man’s growing descent into paranoia and fear. 

Through the magician’s story and Yarrow’s reluctance to share the island with anyone, Durst explores the very contemporary demonization of others and the corrosive desire to hold back change at all costs. It isn’t spoiling any plot points to reveal that as Terlu and Yarrow work to restore the magic and save the plants, they grow closer — aided by his exquisite cooking skills. Fair warning, this book should definitely have had a honey cake recipe in the back, Durst’s descriptions will make you ravenous! 

Terlu fights against her own fear of being re-incarcerated for using magic illegally in order to do what she considers to be the morally correct thing, and use her ability to use magic to help others. Yarrow feels he has been abandoned by everyone, so he must overcome his reluctance to trust people again. Durst’s creativity and the whimsy of the talking plants prevent the proceedings ever getting too heavy or the story losing its forward momentum. 

While the talking plants provide a great deal of comic relief, it’s Terlu Perna’s optimistic personality and wry humor that carry the book and succeed in making it every bit as enjoyable as its predecessor. Durst excels at drawing memorable, vivid characters that readers can relate to and root for! Inevitably, as the cast grows in the second half when others are drawn to the island, we start to see more narrative threads connecting the two books. The Enchanted Greenhouse works wonderfully as a standalone novel, but lovers of The Spellshop will greatly enjoy the growing world of Sarah Beth Durst’s Crescent Islands. 

Disclaimers:

Thanks to my local library, where I was first on the holds queue for The Enchanted Greenhouse! All opinions my own.

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Review: Alchemy and a Cup of Tea by Rebecca Thorne

August 18, 2025 in Book Reviews | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 comment

The finale of Rebecca Thorne’s Tomes & Tea series underlines what an evocative, funny, and generally damn-good writer Thorne has become.

The Tomes & Tea series began, in Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea, as a self-declared attempt to mine the cosy fantasy niche popularized by Travis Balder’s Legends and Lattes, with a tale of a Queens’ bodyguard (Reyna) and the highest magic-user in the land (Kianthe) running off together to escape their lives and open a teashop/bookstore in a tiny, out of the way town. The borrowed scaffolding was obvious (and acknowledged), but the vivid characters and strong world-building set the book apart. The sequels then presented a series of adventures as Reyna and Kianthe built a place for themselves in their new community, travelled the country on a mission to help their dragon neighbors, did a little match-making, and finally followed their public service ethic to the nth degree by overthrowing the tyrannical queen Reyna was raised to protect — whereupon Reyna was installed as the new monarch and was promptly kidnapped at the end of the third book!

Alchemy and a Cup of Tea opens as Reyna regains consciousness a few hours later, and wryly surveys the motley crew who has kidnapped her. Reyna is quick-witted and very much a people person, so she quickly sows doubt and confusion among the kidnappers with just a few questions. Kianthe and Reyna’s old colleague and friend Venn, the new head of her Queen’s Guards, find her drinking and carousing with the kidnappers when they arrive to rescue her mere hours later. However, the real mystery lies in who ordered the kidnapping, and what the strange alchemical sigil found painted in blood beneath Reyna’s cell means.

The inept kidnapping illustrates the humor and light touch Thorne brings to this series. She conveys the emotional waves of the story with an easy assurance, conveying different points of view and competing agendas with the deceptive fluency that only results from a great deal of work. The sense of wonder is supplied by our heroines visiting the Magicary for the first time, the secretive city of wizards where Kianthe grew up, and was eventually selected (rather against the odds) to serve as the Arcandor, the most-powerful wizard in existence. Thorne’s world-building is refreshing and delightfully oddball, with academic offices in luxurious caves and library shelves carved into trees that grow underground. And, we spend more time in dragon country, learning more about the dragons than in previous books, which is never a bad thing!

Although this is a cozy fantasy, a genre usually distinguished by low-stakes peril and challenges that don’t involve the fate of the world, Alchemy and a Cup of Tea is a little more action-packed than you might expect: featuring a shadowy villain who does indeed have grand ambitions, and a subplot that threatens to drive Reyna and Kianthe out of the town that became their refuge. 

All in all, Alchemy and a Cup of Tea is a fitting conclusion to the Tomes & Tea series — although I’m sure fans would enjoy visiting with Reyna and Kianthe from time to time in years to come — action-packed, humorous, romantic, and full of cozy vibes despite the new threats and higher-stakes. I do look forward to re-reading the series!

Unlike the first three books, I listened to the audio version of Alchemy on a recent road trip, and it made the miles fly by. Narrator Jessica Threet is a quite wonderful interpreter of the material, able to conjure different voices and accents to bring the characters to life. I hadn’t realized Reyna’s voice was quite so regal, but as she grew up in the palace it made complete sense. It’s an interesting experience to suddenly have somebody else supply the voices for characters you’ve only known on the page, but in this case it was a pleasure and enhanced the comedy and humor that is quickly becoming Thorne’s signature style. 

Thank you to Macmillan Audio for providing the audiobook for review consideration. All opinions my own.

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Shoutout to my local library who actually had a copy of the self-published, OG edition of Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea (the first book in the series) on hand when I first heard of the book! I have since purchased the first three titles, and will pick the fourth up in physical form soon. Who says libraries don’t sell books!

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