TTRPG REVIEW: The Düngeonmeister Goblin Quest Coloring Book
BOOK REVIEW: Curious Tides by Pascale Lacelle
The elevator pitch for Curious Tides, the new YA fantasy from Pascale Lacelle, pitches it as Ninth House meets A Deadly Education. I'm not familiar with either of those titles. All I knew is that there was magic and dark academia flavor, and those two things put together are generally enough to get me through a book.
Well, excellent news for fellow enjoyers of both of those things: this is good. Really good and interesting. From the worldbuilding to the story itself, it's really compelling, with lots of twists and turns to unravel. Best of all, those twists and turns hold up under scrutiny and re-reading—a real trick when you're balancing two narratives (one potentially mirroring the other), more than a dozen characters at varying stages of life and death, and a branching magic system that even the most knowledgeable characters in the story don't fully grasp.
So, what is Curious Tides? Billed as the first book in the Drowned Gods duology, it's an atmospheric fantasy/drama/mystery/romance(?) taking place at a magic academy in a world ruled by lunar magic. Everyone in this world has at least a drop of magic in them, governed by the moon phase during which they were born and further subdivided into applications thereof. Some can actually manifest their magic in impressive ways—either during their set phase of the moon or by bloodletting—and attend magic academies and go on to high-profile jobs. Our two audience viewpoint characters, Emory and Baz, are attending one such school. But their understanding of this lunar magic is about to change.
See, there may be four moon phases, but there are also eclipses. Magic users born during eclipses can use their magic more freely, and thus are more likely to succumb to the power of their own magic. (This is called Collapsing, and at that point your life might as well be over.) Baz is one such Eclipse-born; Emory, born under a New Moon, is a middling Healer. At least, that's what she believes, until she sneaks into a secret ceremony and finds herself able to draw on all sorts of magic at once.
Curious Tides follows Emory and Baz as they navigate her new discovery, which happens in the wake of many students disappearing and/or dying during a secret gathering. What the nature of this gathering was, and what the doomed students hoped to accomplish, is tied to Emory's new magic awakening. It's also tied to a children's fairy tale with which a few students—including Romie, Baz's sister and Emory's friend—are more than a little obsessed.
That's already a lot to take in, but Curious Tides takes the reader even deeper. As I mentioned, the worldbuilding is stunning, and it's spun out in a way that makes it easy to take in and retain over the book's more than 500 pages. The myths, superstitions, laws, and lies of this moon-ruled setting are all easily accessible to us, and clarified just in time for everything to be called into question. Lacelle's world is vivid and enthralling, taking us from dim dormitories to magical caves to terrifying dreamscapes. It's a compelling read, and one I'll be more than happy to follow into its second volume.
Something more personal.
Lately, I've been posting less and less personal stuff on here. I think there are a lot of reasons for that.
On the surface, there's the fact that I'm back to reading more and, while I do work with IndieReader on a few reviews each month, I don't have the platform I once had to share book reviews. I like sharing my thoughts on books, partly because I know what it's like to try to get people to read your work, partly because it helps me continue to process what I like and don't like in literature and apply that to my own writing.
There's also the fact that I haven't been writing as much lately. I'm a couple thousand words from proving to myself that I've slain two years of writer's block. And perhaps when that's shifted, I'll be able to talk more about things I've made that I'd like you to see. But the need to be present and the embarrassment of being a writer who doesn't write leads to seeking out anything to fill that gap. I at least attempt to go for things that people will like and that would make me happy anyway. But it hurts that I have less to say after having done less.
Deep down, though, I think it's a worry that dipping into anything that isn't "Read this book!" or "Try this thing!" will scratch too close to things that aren't for public consumption. For what it's worth, I don't believe we should bottle up our pain or our grief or our difficulties. But there are "proper" channels for expressing those things—for our own good, not to "keep us presentable." Venting rarely makes me feel better; gaining understanding does. There are venues for that, and I'm fortunate to have them. Everyone needs those venues for processing.
In my case, the processing is still underway. It finds its way into the things I create, and probably always will. But there's a difference between that and laying it all out for the world to see in a public forum. I've flown very close to that recently. Possibly too close. Until those things are at least slightly more in my rearview, "personal" posts will require a lighter touch. I don't think there's anything wrong with that.
But to that end, I wanted to put something out there that isn't just me telling you to look at other things.
How's the Writing?
How's Life?
What's Next?
Sakuraco vs. TokyoTreat: Which One Is Right for You?
There was a time when, if you were into Japanese entertainment and wanted to try the snacks you saw onscreen, you were limited to the one guy at the anime con dealer room who sold Pocky or the soda candy that came with your Sailor Moon figure blind box in the same dealer room. Nowadays, you can get just about anything you want by mail, if not at a store in your town.
Among the myriad treat boxes you can get are Sakuraco and TokyoTreat. This month, I got a chance to sample both their September boxes. I'm a six-month (so far) Sakuraco subscriber, but I was excited to see what was different between the two boxes—and see if I could do a bit of comparison shopping to help other potential snackers figure out which they should go for.
What's the Same?
TokyoTreat: Thoroughly Modern
Sakuraco: Traditional Teatime
BOOK TOUR: Facing the Beast Within: The Anxiety of Cameron Poole
BOOK REVIEW: And Don't Look Back
Our late teens are a time of self-discovery: figuring out who we are and what our identity means in the grander scheme of things. But what if that wasn't an option?
Harlow Ford, the heroine of Rebecca Barrow's new novel And Don't Look Back, has never known what it's like to be herself. She's constantly changing her name and personality, running from town to town with her mother Cora. But she's never known what they're running from. Then, Cora dies. And suddenly, Harlow is faced with the truth.
Now armed with money and an inherited family home, Harlow sets out to find out what her mother was keeping from her. The secrets run deep—so deep that the reader will continue to unearth them, even into the book's final sentence. And they start with the mysterious disappearance of Harlow's mother, Eve Kennedy.
Simultaneously tense and slow-burn, And Don't Look Back blends mystery with self-discovery. As Harlow attempts to piece together her family's fragmented past, she's also learning what it means to live as herself. A testing of the waters of friendship and romance intertwines with her dangerous search. Once people realize who she is and what she's after, faces from the past begin to emerge. And what Harlow discovers about herself, and her family, is more than even she bargained for.
Juggling the two facets of Harlow's journey is no easy feat. The juxtaposition of teen romance and a fight for one's life, of honest communication over burgers and running from a potential killer, could be this book's fatal flaw if not handled well. Fortunately, Barrow navigates this beautifully, tying every disparate piece into one breathless journey for the truth.
Because, as the book rightly shows us, everything—the lies, the disappearance, the teen awkwardness, and every last confusingly-captioned photograph—answers the same question of identity. The bulk of the story may have all the thrills and shocks of a true crime podcast, but in the end it's a search for truth. Harlow is at a vulnerable age we all know well, where honesty seems to be in short supply. Fortunately, readers are rewarded with all the details. While there may be some uncertainties still in the air as the book closes, there aren't any loose threads.
And Don't Look Back is a perfect chilling read for autumn. It twists and turns intriguingly right up until its final breath.
BOOK REVIEW: A British Girl's Guide to Hurricanes and Heartbreak
Losing someone close to you comes with myriad feelings. There's the sense of guilt and loss, of course. But when the person's death comes at the end of a protracted deterioration, there are other things to be taken into account. Losing someone to dementia, for example, is effectively, losing them twice. And as that first loss looms large and the second approaches, we all cope in different ways. Flora Maxwell knows this all too well—and when she attempts to come clean about her own guilt, it causes a storm of emotions in her family.
A British Girl's Guide to Hurricanes and Heartbreak is a sister book to Laura Taylor Namey's A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow, but reading Lila's story isn't essential to understanding Flora's. There is crossover: Flora is the younger sister of Orion Maxwell, and her journey serves as a counterpoint to Lila's. Where Lila was sent from Florida to England by her parents, Flora makes the opposite journey of her own volition... without even telling her family. Between rejecting the romantic confession of her childhood friend Gordon and admitting to her family that she deliberately fled from her mother's final moments, she has a lot of coping to do.
Safely ensconced in Miami among family friends preparing for a wedding, Flora thinks she's spared her family from her immediate turmoil as she steps away to process. But her rash move has caused an even greater rift—one she's unsure she can repair. As she did during her mother's decline, Flora takes solace in photography. And this is how she meets Baz: the handsome son of a renowned local photographer. Baz can't seem to escape his family's expectations for him to get a significant other, and Flora wants to help her friends find a wedding photographer. So the two strike up a deal: if Flora pretends to be Baz's girlfriend for local functions, he'll do photos for the wedding.
The arrangement throws Flora into the world of the Miami elite... and Miami gossip. Slowly but surely, she finds her confidence and reconnects with her family. But just as things are heating up with Baz, Gordon arrives on the scene. And Flora has to decide where her heart really lies... but not before this emotional hurricane of a girl has to face down a real hurricane.
A British Girl's Guide to Hurricanes and Heartbreak is as emotional and turbulent as its young heroine. And while the "pretend dating" trope is in play, it's not going where you think it will. It's always gratifying to see a book with a healthy assessment of self-care, and this book doesn't shy away from the harder lessons about including your loved ones in that plan. Not every lesson she faces is pleasant, and most are (funnily enough) about how refusing to reach out for help can have negative repercussions for those around you in the long run. The line between selflessness and selfishness is a narrow one, and learning how to ask for what you need when you need it can make all the difference.
Even without its preceding book, this is a powerful read. If you've lost a family member to dementia, it can be an especially difficult one. There is no pleasant version of grief, but that flavor in particular is unpleasantly multifaceted. Namey depicts it with a cathartic accuracy. Best of all, the lesson is not one of changing your entire self for others, but rather accepting yourself in a way that respects yourself and the people around you. While this feels more like a summer read, make an exception and slide it into your autumn reading pile.
A British Girl's Guide to Hurricanes and Heartbreak goes on sale September 26.