conspystery's reviews
278 reviews

dark emotional hopeful mysterious reflective sad slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

This book felt all the way through like a simultaneous act of defiance and of ultimate self-acceptance. True to its main character, it was prodigal, and I loved it.

The writing itself is beautiful-- as other reviews have said, it definitely evoked Woolf in a stunning, contemporary way (and nodded directly to her a few times, which I much appreciated!) The writing winds around the events of the narrative with the same kind of exhausted assurance the story demands, allowing the reader to feel the weight of time with Adam as the story and day goes on. In the abstract, parallel sections with the faun and the Queen, the writing seemed to occupy its own liminal space, playing with urgency just as the Queen seems to. It was compelling.

This book tells a story about identity and self-acceptance and love, as well as one about defiance and justice and unfairness-- facets of these issues are explored in different capacities between the two plotlines of Adam and the spirit dimension. Most of the narrative draw, though, comes from Adam’s story. He struggles to come to terms with the reality of his situation, which weighs down on him throughout the piece: his feelings for Enzo and Linus, how to define family, what value he allows himself to feel he has, how to reconcile his self-worth in the face of intolerance, and what the breaking point of love is. A flawed but deeply good person, with an introspective drive to be true to himself guiding his actions over the course of the day the novel spans. His relationships with his family, his best friend, his ex, and his boyfriend are all painted with his search for genuine self-understanding and how his actions impact the people around him, and therefore all of them are sophisticated and full of depth. Not to mention the individuality-- every character in this novel feels like a fully-fledged person. I loved Angela especially, how her presence in Adam’s life was so vibrant and important, and how that cruciality was reflected with narrative weight.

I had a few problems with this book: at times, the connection between the two storylines felt unclear theme-wise, and the faun and Queen’s section was a bit far-out with its abstraction for me. It wasn’t a dealbreaker, though, and the dissonance was resolved at the end in a way I felt was satisfyingly recontextualizing. I also had qualms with how graphic the book could get at points, but this is moreso a matter of personal preference, and I think the graphic nature of the scenes was necessary to communicate their themes.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book. The dreamlike, or nightmare-like, story of the faun and the Queen was a good counterbalance to the rooted reality of Adam’s plotline, which confronted the struggle for self-definition and acceptance in the face of society’s expectations with a thoughtful, emotional perspective. There are layers and layers and layers to this book-- intricate theological references, the parallels between stories, the different kinds of love explored-- but at its core it addresses the simple question of when to let go: of love, of unfairness, of family, of self-hate, and of inhibitions. It does so beautifully.

Content Warnings

Aquarium by David Vann

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challenging dark emotional reflective sad tense slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

I listened to the audiobook version of this book, performed by Julia Whelan. Obviously, it was phenomenal, as all her work is. That’s the first thing I want to say.

Aquarium is a deceptive book, as many have noted. It begins with such understatement that it’s almost impossible to see how it could end up where it does. And yet the narrative falls, slowly at first and then faster and faster, into absolute turmoil, a complete upset of its premises in the best possible way. It is violent and striking and painfully emotive all at once, and we’re left to grapple like the protagonist Caitlin is with how rapidly her somewhat sheltered perspective about her upbringing shatters. Everything changes at once for her, and yet also nothing does except her awareness of it-- it’s the perspective change, the paradigm shift of realization, that guides this book, and I adored it.

This book is quite upsetting! The violence and the unfairness of the main character’s treatment translates directly to the reader in a way that is genuinely disturbing. I was in tears with this one a number of times. Stories about forgiveness do not often do what this book does-- whereas many tales of this kind build up to a grand reconciliation, this book examines the path to realizing there has been a wrong done at all, and it’s as exactly as earth-shattering and brutal and terrifying as it needs to be. There are a number of simultaneous forgiveness stories here: 12 year old Caitlin reconciling her mother’s unfair treatment of her grandpa, Sheri’s struggle to face her father for what he’s done, and present-day Caitlin grappling with how her mother acted towards her. All of this intense subject matter is presented with beautiful, evocative, emotional writing, drawing the reader in through the lens of Caitlin’s fascination with fish and the sea. The imagery and comparisons to the aquarium, along with the setting of the aquarium versus the strange bleakness of the world outside, were artful, and complemented the book’s dark subject matter in a way that allowed it effectively communicate it via contrast and the lack thereof. The effect of juxtaposition-- and the opposite, in unexpected places-- was very nice.

The characters in this book are beautifully written, and the ways they embody the book’s themes are thoughtful and interesting: Caitlin with her retrospective understanding of the importance of forgiveness, Sheri with her impossible hypocrisy but righteous anger, Grandpa’s too-late recognition of his errors but his attempts to fix them regardless, and so on. Most of all, I appreciate the lengths this book took with its characters to show that forgiveness and reconciliation are possible only by recognizing the crossing of lines, the responsibility involved. Forgiveness, this book makes clear, is an effort which all parties involved must be on board with.

The ending of the book did this especially well-- the scene with the burning of the contract, I think, solidified Grandpa’s character in my mind as this book’s thesis on forgiveness. He recognized that forgiveness would not absolve him of his actions, and also that this was not the point. His thoughts are not on absolution but reconciliation, which he tries for patiently and understandingly until they are no longer an option without outside intervention. The contract burning scene takes away the last fragments of the shameful egocentrism that lead him to run from Sheri and her mother in the first place. His priority is Caitlin then Sheri-- not forgiveness for absolution’s sake, but for the genuine well-being of the people he cares about. Even the thing he wants most, a chance to reconcile with his daughter, does not overcome how much he cares for Caitlin, who is herself a product of Sheri and, thus, a constant reminder of his mistakes. It’s not regret, but love that drives him. So good.

Overall, I loved this book, however upsetting it was. I think it did a great job of giving a nuanced perspective on the difficult subject matter it covered, as well as addressing a number of other issues thoughtfully in its subplots-- I applaud how this book treated homophobia and the question of how to forgive in the face of it, if at all, for one-- and did all this with an artful writing style as it continued, with just the right amount of dramatic emphasis and oceanic comparison to embody the main character Caitlin (who is herself incredibly genuine and real-feeling, both as a 12 year old living the story and her present self reflecting on it.) It was exceptionally hard-hitting and poignant, but hopeful in its own merit. A powerful read.

Content Warnings

Song of the Sparrow by Lisa Ann Sandell

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adventurous emotional reflective fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

I was drawn to this book on two premises: that it was Arthurian, and that it was written in verse. I love Arthurian literature and I’ve never read a YA novel written in a verse format, so I was super excited to read this book!

Overall, I liked it. I thought the writing style suited the protagonist Elaine quite well; it was simple but lilting and drifting like a song at points, understated but clear and easy to follow. The poetry or verse format was super interesting and compelling to read-- I only wish the author had done more with it, really played into the poetry aspect when the story called for it as she did a few times throughout. I’m glad it wasn’t overplayed, but I almost feel like it was under-utilized. I wish more had been done with it, because in the moments when the poetry was allowed to construct the narrative, it was glorious in its effect, perfectly complementing Elaine’s narration and character, the atmosphere of the setting, and the stakes of the story.

The characters were a point of contention for me throughout this book. For a story that centers so heavily on the relationships between characters, I have to admit they felt a bit one-dimensional to me at times. I understand there are constraints when handling pre-existing characters who have to follow a general narrative guideline, but with the amount of liberties and departures already taken from typical Arthurian legend and retellings of it, I felt that more could have been done to give the cast depth, especially early on in the novel.

Elaine, as the voice of the story itself, drove the narrative-- but sometimes she seemed too simple or too flat as a character. It’s especially clear in her relationships with other characters throughout the book, most notably with Lancelot, Gwynivere, and Tristan.

She was so preoccupied with Lancelot that it hampered her own character, not to mention that the “romance” between them when it existed at all was uncomfortable at best. I wish the narrative had done more to treat her obsession with him as mere childish admiration, and I wish Lancelot had addressed that side of it more than he did in passing at the end, because so much of Elaine’s character revolved around growing out of it. Her fixation on him and, later, Tristan-- which felt underdeveloped and sudden in its own right!-- took from her autonomy as a character, which, as she constantly voiced frustration in being viewed as anything less than an independent woman, damaged the novel’s message as a whole. Her arc with Gwynivere furthered that theme, though their reconciliation made up for it; I wish it had happened sooner in the novel, and I wish Gwynivere herself was allowed more depth rather than being defined by the men around her as Elaine was.

But when this book shone, it really shone. Interestingly enough, while I wasn’t drawn to Elaine’s romance and love interests, the side characters and supporting cast of the novel were absolutely compelling to me. Even those we see only briefly were intriguing; one of my favorites was the Merlin, whose depiction was delightfully mysterious and eerie even if only in passing. I loved Elaine’s relationships outside of her romance: her relationships with her brothers were genuine and painted with just the right amount of grief and wistfulness for their mother to give them the depth they needed, unlike some of the main cast. Morgan was also compelling. I wish her relationship with Elaine had been explored in more depth. This story’s Arthur was not overbearing in his actual appearances, but managed such a quiet sense of thoughtful nobility when he did appear that it was natural to fall into the same respect he commanded from his people in the narrative. The supporting cast was also wonderful-- not detailed to the point of redundancy, but well-rounded in their own right. The best of this cast was, I felt, Gawain. Even his physical character descriptions lended a tangible presence to him whenever he appeared, tall and powerful but not imposing, battle-weary but friendly and kind as he could manage. I found Elaine’s interactions with side characters more compelling than the actual main cast of the novel.

Ultimately, I think this book does what it sets out to do. The poetry is deliberate, flowing, and engaging if a bit under-utilized, and the plot itself is passable for a YA romance novel. This take on the Arthurian setting was intriguingly bleak and ordinary, without the vibrance other retellings often overplay. The main cast could’ve been more developed, including Elaine, but the surrounding characters and moments of inspired, graceful writing helped make up for it. Not a perfect book, but I liked it.

Content Warnings

The Harpy by Megan Hunter

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dark reflective tense slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

I listened to the audiobook version of this and could not stop listening to it until I finished it. The narrator’s performance was incredible; she suited Lucy so well and gave voice to her story in a chillingly genuine way.

This story is one that’s difficult to describe: domestic and casual on the surface, which gives way to unease and a sense of morbid curiosity as it goes on. I loved the slow descent into disquieted routine it took with Lucy as she grappled with her husband’s actions and her instinct to respond, her discomfort with her own tendency towards darkness and yet a building pressure to act. The book’s writing style itself elucidated Lucy’s character, analytical with a haunting kind of detached, melodic beauty-- I felt like the writing evoked images of the harpy that is the novel’s namesake, especially towards the end.

The narrative pushed Lucy towards a kind of tragic double-bind: if she wanted to preserve her relationship, she had to further her attachment to the harpy and the violence she feared lived within her, but if she didn’t, she would remain growingly preoccupied with the dissatisfaction of her life, risking her family and herself and possibly even furthering her fixation on the harpy in the process. Her internal struggle with having no good option built up a tangible, urgent pressure in this book that gave Lucy’s character depth and set up the climax and ending of the story in a truly tense yet detached way, matching the writing style of disinterested detail as it went.

Speaking of which: the ending!

I adored how this book ended. I loved how the realm of the figurative and literal blended along Lucy’s rational understanding of her emotions and detachment from reality until they were indistinguishable. Lucy’s transformation defines this novel, in the best possible way. Her character arc was at first a fall-- a situation out of her control, trying to avoid her intense feelings in favor of the expectations she’s absorbed into her life-- and then an active leap, pushing herself forward to take autonomy even in darkness. The narrative thread about her fixation on the harpy as a creature of myth stitched itself into her character as the book ended. Inseparability was a theme throughout this book, or I thought so: marriages that wouldn’t split, society’s perceptions of motherhood and womanhood and wifehood that Lucy struggled so valiantly to shake, Lucy and the harpy in the end. It was exceptional, and the writing itself was just as artfully intense and powerful as the story needed to deliver its final blows.

Overall, I loved this story and Lucy’s telling of it, loved her character and the spiral of her actions, loved the writing and the mythology and everything else happening here. I sat in stunned silence for a while after finishing this book; it leaves that kind of an impact. Rich and dark and eerily satisfying, The Harpy is definitely a story that’ll stick with its audience. I loved it.

Content Warnings

Critical Role: The Mighty Nein Origins: Yasha Nydoorin by Cecil Castellucci, Ashley Johnson, Matthew Mercer

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dark emotional reflective medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

The Mighty Nein by Critical Role

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adventurous funny informative lighthearted mysterious slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? N/A
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A

5.0

Critical Role: The Mighty Nein Origins: Caleb Widogast by Liam O'Brien, Jody Houser, Matthew Mercer

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dark emotional sad tense medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

Content Warnings

Critical Role: The Mighty Nein Origins: Jester Lavorre by Sam Maggs

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adventurous emotional funny lighthearted fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood

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dark emotional reflective sad medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

This was a really interesting interpretation of and perspective on The Odyssey. I loved this Penelope— her self-awareness, her internal conflict, her bitterness towards Helen and her begrudging adoration of her son, her imperfect and almost fragile love (if that) for her husband, her grief for all the repetitive loss (of all sorts of things!) in her life, and how real she felt, above all.

At first I hated how Penelope treated Helen. It felt bitter and cruel and unnecessary, like she was blaming another woman for the misogyny they both had to deal with rather than confronting the actual issues at play. But in reality, I think people are flawed, and as both Penelope and Helen are, their almost rival-esque relationship in this story makes total sense. I don’t really know how to put it other than it felt REAL, imperfect and bitter as real people can be especially when faced with an unfair situation and difficult circumstances, and that’s the reason Penelope’s voice is so striking in this book. That the story comes from her, not only as she knows it but also as she wishes to tell it, lends it a unique kind of reclamation-y feel that I just adored throughout the whole thing.

And, of course, the maids, reflecting all the unfairness of the narrative, bringing light to a side of The Odyssey that is so often ignored or overlooked… so good. Penelope, through her narration and her emphasis on the maids, paints an at times conflicting picture of Odysseus: this considerate, clever man, but also tinged with ego such that it’s never clear to Penelope whether his actions towards her and others are for their benefit or his own. He is so multifaceted in this story, thoroughly imperfect, and their relationship is built on a kind of mutual understanding of both of their self-deceptive tendencies— once again, Penelope is self-aware here, achingly so, and it gives the book layers that are so interesting to pick through. So the death of the maids functions as an ultimate question to Odysseus’s character while at once bringing about a note of conclusion to Penelope’s perception of him. They serve to remind him not only of his guilt for murder, but his guilt for treating Penelope as he did, for giving in to his ego rather than seeing her as a person.

I don’t know how much I agree with this book’s ideas about Penelope and Odysseus, but I can definitely say that the interpretation presented here is full of pieces to consider, and it emphasizes them with a believable, raw, and real voice all the way through. This Penelope, and this version of her story, was unique and tragic and wonderful in all the ways I’d hope for in a book like this. I loved it.

Content Warnings

Hag-Seed: William Shakespeare's the Tempest Retold by Margaret Atwood

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adventurous emotional funny lighthearted reflective slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

I had no idea what to expect with this book; I didn't even know what it was about when I picked it up at the recommendation of a friend, and I'm not too familiar with The Tempest so I wasn't sure how I would feel about this retelling. I LOVED it. The characters were charming when they needed to be and questionable when the narrative called for it, and the book presents them as such with an absolutely delightful, matter-of-fact, and almost ironic tone. The premise was super interesting and I really think it followed through to the end. Also, I listened to the audiobook version of this, and the narrator's performance added SO much to the story. I really liked this book!

Content Warnings

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conspystery's reviews 278 reviews

conspystery's reviews
278 reviews