It's December and it's book review time again! Don't forget, I'm doing reviews over on Boss Rush Network as well (including my recent review of The Forbidden Visions of Lucius Galloway). This is where I'll be putting the majority of sci-fi, fantasy, and spinoff book reviews going forward.

Thanks as always to the authors and publishers who send advance copies my way!

After the sudden death of her husband Jonathan, novelist Saiorse White starts over by moving back to Providence. When she moves into her new home, once occupied by poet and spiritualist Sarah Helen Whitman, she finds something unexpected in her basement: a trio of transcendentalists who call upon the "Divine Poet" for inspiration. In spite of the initial strangeness of their meeting, Saiorse and the trio become fast friends, and their late-night activities even appear to shift her writer's block. But they aren't the only strange people she meets. Nearly as soon as she arrives, Saiorse finds herself in a whirlwind romance with Emmit Powell: a Pulitzer Prize-winning author whose works, philosophy, and life overall mirror those of Edgar Allan Poe. A strange coincidence, since Poe himself romanced Sarah Helen Whitman.

However, even Saiorse's new friends find the whole scenario a bit strange. Is their relationship a residual haunting—an echo across time of Poe's ill-fated love for Whitman—or something more sinister? As Saiorse navigates paranormal happenings and dark memories of her husband's final days, as well as the increasing attentions of her husband's best friend, she must decide what to do about Emmit. In the best case scenario, they could inspire each other; in the worst, she could be in great danger.

While the plot and characters of Beneath the Poet's House are riveting, especially for lovers of Gothic literature, the prose can occasionally feel a bit stilted. If Emmit were the only character given over to histrionics, it could be written off as a character trait, and a very apropos one for him. However, spoken words by other characters (including and especially Saiorse) don't feel especially natural, even for lovers of the written word. This is a problem in a book where one of the main issues at play is the protagonist's ability to catch a narcissist in the act of putting on a persona. It can become difficult to tell what is a character trait we should be aware of and what is simply the writer's style. The over-the-top parallels between Powell/White and Poe/Whitman (down to the names) become more forgivable when the third act kicks in, but it occasionally feels like the author doesn't trust the reader to catch these very blatant parallels. So, while the story itself is fantastic—an important conversation about being trapped in a dangerous relationship—its setting reaches high and falls a bit short.

Luke's plan was to explore Europe before starting a writing program in London. It was not to get blackmailed into hiding a stranger's body in Paris. But after that terrifying night with his best friend Cash, he hopes to leave the past behind him and pursue his dream of being a writer. His curiosity gets the better of him, though. Following a lead from his blackmailer, he befriends a gang leader named Shane and the other young men receiving "work" from him. Before long, Luke finds himself comfortably in with this group: doing violent drug deals by night and vaguely fictionalizing them for his writing course by day. The money is good, and the new family he's found is there for him much more than his real family back in North Carolina.

But things quickly fall apart. Between Luke's own loose lips, his many injuries, and his violent temper, he makes a name for himself that gets back to his school. His growing animosity with Profit, a member of a rival gang, causes trouble for everyone around him. Even the girl he fancies is warning him off his current trajectory. Misfortune strikes Luke many times, but it isn't until it strikes someone else that he realizes something needs to change. 

By Way of Paris is couched as what it is in real life: a Master's thesis. And it's understandable why this has received recognition. Luke as a character is complex and troubled, but he rises above his nihilistic forebears by the end of the book. He sees himself, as he reminds us regularly, as the protagonist of his own story. But this way of thinking is extremely dangerous for himself and for everyone else around him. Books like this often end up being very dark and self-destructive, and there is a bit of that in By Way of Paris, but it's ultimately a hopeful story about breaking the cycle of abuse and violence. And even in its darkest scenes, it's a love letter to London—not its more iconic locations, but the out-of-the-way places and daily routines that are bizarrely easy to fall in love with.

Countess Amelia Amesbury, widow of the late Edgar Amesbury, lives a double—perhaps even triple—life. When she isn't representing the Amesbury family alongside her in-laws at London's finest gatherings, she's solving problems for her readers as Lady Agony. And when she isn't doing that, she's solving murder mysteries alongside her best friend Kitty and her will-they-won't-they "friend" Simon. But her latest escapade hits closer to home than usual. Amelia has been asked to introduce her younger sister Madge into high society (and to get Madge out of Somerset for a bit after she broke a young man's arm to stop his unwanted advances). It would seem Amelia's sister's secret has followed her, leading to a certain Arthur Radcliffe giving her trouble at the Amesburys' party. So when Radcliffe dies that night, seemingly poisoned, all eyes are on Madge.

While Madge is hardly bothered, a vengeful detective from Scotland Yard won't rest until he's pinned the murder on Amelia's younger sister. Thus, Amelia devotes all her resources to clearing Madge's name... or she would, if a spate of robberies hadn't broken out on the same night. With the her aunt Tabitha's diamond brooch missing and other fine pieces of jewelry disappearing, Amelia divides her time between sniffing out a high society murderer and consulting fences about the missing gems. As she navigates Mayfair's many dark secrets, she must also navigate her relationship with Simon. Does her late husband's old friend share her feelings, or is he only by her side for the adventure that comes with investigating murders.

If this is your first introduction to the Lady of Letters Mysteries, never fear: Winters weaves all the backstory in. While it's clear there's more to read if you fancy it, readers stumbling in after the introduction won't feel adrift: a difficult, but important, task for writers of series. The Bridgerton parallels are both obvious and deliberate, but the characters are their own. (Yes, there's more than a little Lady Danbury in Aunt Tabitha, but we should have more Lady Danburys.) It's a perfect intersection for lovers of murder mysteries and lovers of high society romantic drama. And if you're a fan of slow burn romance, Amelia and Simon will be your new obsession.

Gabrielle just wants to live like every other college girl: dress pretty, go out, maybe even have a boyfriend. But her past continues to haunt her, no matter how far she tries to run from it. As a child, she suffered immense trauma after witnessing the death of her parents—though between the blackout, the fact that she was alone in the house when it happened, and the presence of a certain porcelain doll, many (herself included) are convinced that she had a hand in this death. And when a similar event occurs at the home of a college boy who took advantage on her, it seems like the past is coming back to haunt her. As if that wasn't complicated enough, one of the officers on the case is Cole: Gabrielle's brother's new boyfriend.

The narrative shifts between Gabrielle and Cole as the case unwinds. On one side of the story is the frightened teen, convinced that she has somehow awoken something malevolent in the porcelain doll that still occupies a space on her bookshelf. As she tries to navigate the police's inquiries, she dares to pursue a relationship with Peter: a childhood friend with mental health struggles of his own. Meanwhile, Cole has troubles of his own, even beyond the fact that his boyfriend's little sister may be a murderer. His new relationship could also compromise his battle for custody of his young daughter, Isa. Before long, he has to choose whether to fight for Gabrielle and sacrifice his relationship with Michael, or fight to stay with Michael and leave the investigation. As the truth begins to come clear, another victim falls at the "doll's" hands, and Gabrielle's memories turn up surprising details.

Porcelain dares to walk a very difficult line in its involvement of real mental health struggles, and blending those with tinges of the paranormal is complex at the best of times. By and large, the book is compassionate but realistic about these struggles, while also being honest about what it's like to live with them and try to look after one's mental health. While it sometimes seems to play with and subvert the old tropes of mental illness being mistaken for demonic possession, it also leans into them in at times. The result is a waveform of tense, compelling scenes offset by (at least for this reader) discomfort with how the story may be falling into old traps. The fact that this is "Book 1" of a series makes me hopeful that this is a slow burn, and that what feels off-kilter may be elevated in future volumes.

Private investigator Mitchell Bishop has a strange case on his hands. His good friend, Dr. Warren Carter, has memories of doing something horrible to a young nurse named Rosie. But when Mitchell goes to investigate, there is no trace of the girl. However, life begins falling apart for Warren from there... and for Mitchell, whose engagement to Warren's sister Laura has ended under similarly bizarre circumstances.

As the Carter family falls apart and the police come in to investigate, another story is unfolding right under everyone's noses. A local photographer with a sideline in erotic photo cards welcomes in a new model... an innocent girl named Rosie looking to make money for her mother's medical treatment. But nothing is as it seems. The dead are visiting the living, people find themselves in places they don't remember going, and locals are gripped by strange and fleeting compulsions to do terrible things. And despite her seeming ignorance of everything going on, Rosie appears to be at the center of it. The answer lies in a long-buried story in Mitchell's past—but can he put the pieces together before anyone else he cares about is lost?

The Soul Thief is solid gothic horror of an M.R. James style. Using photography—then a relatively new technology—as a jumping-off point for something unknowable and terrifying brings it even more into its era. The horror itself, which is explained in the final chapters, is also an excellent (and ironic) catalyst for characterization. If anything gives me pause, it's that Mitchell's reactions to one of the final act twists feels a bit unbolstered. It's an understandably dramatic reaction thematically without quite enough character build-up to warrant it, which does detract from things a bit as we approach the final battle. But that's one tiny, floating observation in an otherwise fantastic book. The fact that I can call out one thread as slightly loose means that every other thread is extremely strong, and that's no mean feat. Lovers of A Ghost Story for Christmas will warm to this one instantly, and it's a perfect read for this darker time of year.