emilypoche's reviews
282 reviews

Thank you to St Martin’s Press for providing this ARC for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own. 

Greenwich by Kate Broad follow Rachel, a recent high school graduate during the pivotal summer months before leaving for college. Her life is fraught with isolation and messiness, hidden behind a facade of wealth, politeness, and secrecy. 

The story’s plot moves at a fairly quick pace. The asides, the internal longings and guilt Rachel feels, moves at a more tortured, languorous pace. The book manages to touch on a lot of tough topics through a story that’s somewhat limited in duration and characters. There are prominent themes of the power of wealth, racism, the difficulties of domestic workers, sexuality, lies, forgiveness, and conscience. 

The characters in this story are devastatingly selfish and punitive. It really shows how insidious entitlement and class struggles around wealth can infiltrate every aspect of lives with relationships. Claudia, the most sympathetic character, is predictably, but heart-wrenchingly dragged for not being an insider. 

For me this was a very quick read, that I really enjoyed. My only qualm is that the ending and “college years” don’t have the same emotional power as the chapters covering the summer. I felt like the plot was still effective and interesting, but that after the trial the book did sort to putter out and didn’t meet the standards of the earlier chapters. 

For me an easy 4/5 or 4.25/5. 

(Trigger warning: scenes involving animal-on-animal violence, child death, and addiction) 

Thank you to Atria Books for providing this ARC for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own. 

The Art of a Lie by Laura Shepherd-Robinson is a story that blends historical fiction, thriller, and crime drama. The story interjects the colorful details and intriguing characters of Georgian London into a game of cat and mouse, in which both of the narrators are very much in both roles. I was delighted to find that the author did a significant amount of research on the middle-class tradespeople of the era and included fictionalized accounts of real-life figures; chiefly Fielding. I appreciate when authors take the time to make an effort when crafting a reasonably authentic image of a setting. The setting of a confectionary was also a really fun and compelling choice; who doesn’t love crime and ice cream?

I liked that this book was committed to keeping the reader on the back foot. In switching narrators, the reader gets lulled into the sense they have an idea of all of the information, but like the characters, they’re often scheming based on false assumptions or lies. I thought this book would be a murder mystery set in a frilly ice cream parlor, but was actually pleasantly surprised when it veered in a different direction. While the “iced creams” may be the constant, the intrigue seems to shift quickly through the story. 

Overall, I thought this was a very fun read. I think for fans of historical fiction that want a break from princesses or war stories, this is a great choice. I think fans of thrillers and mysteries may also find this a pretty engaging choice that’s slightly lower stakes than other options. For me, it’s a very solid 4/5 stars. 

This book was definitely written with tenderness and care. The character of Homa was written with a reverence and respect from the earliest scenes to the last few chapters. The culture and language of Iran, especially in the tumultuous years of the 20th century were rendered with detail and a specificity that was atmospheric. 

The main character, Ellie, however, was so weak compared to the other casts of characters that their friendship seemed horribly lopsided. Even at the end there still seemed to be an imbalance in the strength and vibrancy of the characters. 

I thought the last two chapters, while topical, seemed tacked on as an afterthought. The afterword by the author confirmed they were added later. 

Ultimately, the book was very similar to a lot of other female friendship-in historically turbulent setting books. While it was a very interesting story about Iran and their difficult recent history, the actual narrative wasn’t a great departure from other books we’ve read in the catalog of female friendship stories. 



Also, on a personal note, the denouement was too neat and tidy and coincided with a plot point that felt too hallmark-movie for me. Maybe I just am too much of a Debbie-downer, but it took me out of the realism. 

Thank you to Penguin Books for providing this ARC for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own. 

The Traitor of Sherwood Forest by Amy S Kaufman is a lush, descriptive retelling of the Robin Hood myth using the point of view of a servant girl swept into Robin Hood’s web. The story relies heavily on the early versions of the myth, taking cues from medieval ballads and songs. The description and stories are much more similar to the roguish somewhat unpredictable outlaw of the forest rather than the post-Renaissance man of courtly honor. 

The lens through which the story is told blends both a modern understanding of morality and the medieval story arc. It seems to posit “what if Robin Hood was actually sort of a narcissistic sociopath who was buying his own myth?” The author actually does a great job of crafting this accurate yet differently viewed portrait of Robin Hood. I also did particularly enjoy that while the story gave him a pretty unfavorable characterization, the author was pretty clear until the end that Robin Hood was still pretty sexy. I really appreciate the candor of an author willing to admit that a man can be both a reprehensible weirdo and still sort of alluring. 

The problem with this book is that the character of Jane, our main character, feels like a means to an end. She is not particularly interesting nor skilled. It’s mentioned she’s a fair cook and can remember some common herbs, but that’s about it. Her big special trait is seemingly her ability to placate men. She mentions this is due to a father who was a drunk, but it’s very much a “tell, don’t show” situation. A lot of times it’s mentioned that she wants to run free, or that’s all she desires, but that sort of seems to be stated rather than shown as well. It’s very lofty aspirations for a character who’s a bit of a dud. I appreciate that in order to frame the story there needed to be an outsider to Robin Hood’s group—but I don’t think Jane was the best choice. 

Kaufman clearly did a lot of research into the early iterations of the Robin Hood story. She did a very good job of crafting a medieval England and the toil and injustice at the time. It’s clear she spent a lot of time crafting the men of Robin Hood’s band with care and detail to bring them alive. For fans of medieval lore and the myth, this can be a wonderful read. It is, however, somewhat diminished by a main character that doesn’t sparkle as bright as the rest of her world. 

3/5. 

 I typically don’t enjoy the post-apocalyptic contagion style books. Something about it, however, took the traditional hallmarks of the genre and made them tender, engaging, and bleak all at the same time. 

I can easily see how this was adapted into a screenplay. There is a plot that drives along with relatively frequent and exciting action. My only qualm is that there is a slow period of doldrums in the middle of the book that could be pared down, but it wasn’t egregiously slow or even totally disinteresting. The characters and their very vivid personalities are what truly makes this come alive. You can just tell how easily this would translate to a movie, as their personalities are intense and easily telegraphed even without tons of exposition. 

The thing that really compelled me is the self-discovery and the battle of coming to terms with identity of Melanie. While the narrative focus shifts, Melanie is arguably the main character. Her interesting psychological journey and disposition of childish curiosity despite terrible circumstances make her easy to care about. 

I definitely recommend this to anyone who enjoys apocalyptic or plague stories. 4.5/5

Thank you to Random House Publishing Group - Del Rey, Random House Worlds, Inklore for providing this ARC for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own. 

The Bewitching by Silvia-Moreno Garcia is a horror title in the spirit of her other books; not overly gory or violent, but deeply reliant on supernatural and uncanny terror. Fans of the author’s previous works will be very pleased with this new addition to her published portfolio. I also got the impression that those who enjoyed Emilia Hart’s Weyward. While the two books are fundamentally different they both have a structure of three parallel stories about magic that converge. 

The book is an exemplary title for those who enjoy dark academia settings. The story, set at a tiny private college in New England has the dark woods, historic buildings, and iconic tense scenes in the library stacks. This contrasts with the hot, bright, Mexican farmstead in the storyline in the early 1900s. The book is richly atmospheric, full of wonderful details that make the setting come alive from the page. 

The pacing of this book is not always even, but it works in the favor of a spooky, tense narrative. At times the scenes are long and seemingly every detail is drawn out, only to quickly expose more twists or exposition. To me the pacing follows a cinematic horror pattern—moments of calm, stretches of suspense and tension and sudden surprises and releases. 

Something that I will comment on in a somewhat neutral manner is that the first chapter, one set in 1998, contains a long and somewhat unrelated information regurgitation about HP Lovecraft. While reading this I thought that this was a portent of some sort of dense and unpleasant book to come. However on reflection later in the book, I came to the understanding that this was actually a great characterization of Minerva by the author. Minerva is a true academic, pedantic and unconcerned with being totally socially aware. It’s a somewhat gummy start to the book, but on a reflection it really creates a great framework of who Minerva is going to be. 

For me, this was another home run from Moreno-Garcia. It’s a wonderful and fresh take on the creepy New England horror cannon that decentralizes it from the Puritans and long-dead Europeans. 

5/5 emphatic stars. 

I received this book as one of my monthly selections for Book of the Month Club for February 2025. I felt that the description that the app offered for the book was pretty accurate; highbrow literary fiction about family drama, war, and loss. 

I think that I’m among some other reviewers in saying that the book did feel somewhat hurried. From point A to point B in certain storylines was very quick, and the book truly would have benefited from a slightly slower pace. I think that the storyline of the mother’s spiritual evolution was a somewhat one-off mention that could have really been elaborated on.  

I thought the way that the character of the father, Fidelis, as the central character who’s trauma moves the narrative along, was a very artfully written character. The balance of wistfulness, trauma, mental illness, care for his family, and confused identity. The choices that he makes trying to protect his daughter (and, by extension, the memories of his sister) are often baffling, often seemingly inexcusable. At the same time, the author imbues him with such tenderness and humanity, such an empathetic hand. His love for his family, his sensitivity and poetic soul make him easy to have a soft spot for. 

I think that this book is heartfelt, ambitious, and a hard description of a life defined by violence. However the execution was somewhat inconsistent and that some of the elements could have really been improved with more elaboration. 

3.25/5 stars with the reservation that I did really enjoy the things that were executed in a detailed way. 

Thank you to Mariner Books for providing this ARC for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own. 

The Californians by Brian Castleberry is a work of literary fiction that follows three members of intertwined families whose lives have been heavily influenced by the arts. While the title “The Californians” is accurate in the sense that all of the characters spend at least some of the time in the state, the story is tied much more closely to their engagement with the arts (photorealistic painting, cinema and television, environmental performance art) and their family ties. 

The book follows Tobey, an adrift youngest son of a wealthy developer, hoping to start over following a wildfire. He conspired to steal the paintings of the second narrative focus, Di. Di is an artist from a family of free spirits and grifters whose contemporary art is deeply influenced by her life in 1980s New York. Her grandfather, Klaus, is the final character followed by the narrative. An immigrant and film director, he is sent into a spiral of disuse and frustration after being blackballed. The story is largely character driven. The plot, especially that of Tobey, seems somewhat inconsequential. It feels more like a scaffold used to tell their life stories. For those looking for a plot that moves in a linear, fast paced way, this book is much more atmospheric and may not satisfy. 

The presence of American pop culture acts as a fourth main character in the novel. A variety of major, defining 20th and 21st century movements all seem to play against the main characters, pushing and pulling them along. Silent film, the emergence of the “talkie,” Louis B Mayer, the red scare, McCarthyism, Ronald Reagan, Andy Warhol, Basquiat, cocaine, AIDS, NFTs, and Bitcoin all play starring roles in the narrative. It really felt like a litany of pop culture topics influencing the narrative. 

This novel is a solid portrait of a family deeply entrenched by the 20th and 21st century art establishment. Whether it’s making art or stealing it, it is the central conflict of almost every interaction. For people who love character pieces and have an interest in reflections on American culture, it could be a good choice. Unfortunately, the book does at time struggle with pacing, especially when splitting focus between the characters. The story can also be a little light on plot, focusing much more on building vignettes and characterization. 

3/5 stars. 

I selected this as one of my February BOTM selections. I do typically like magical realism and so this seemed like a great choice. 

Here are the things that I did appreciate about it: the loving care with which the author renders the Alaskan wilderness and the clear dedication she had to creating an image that readers could really sink their teeth into. From the images of the shifting sky to the flowers in the tundra, Alaska is almost its own character, playing a huge role in the story. The characters are constantly pulled to the wild. I also felt like the secondary and tertiary characters; Dell, Syd, Warren were really detailed and well developed. I particularly liked “Uncle Syd” and his stacks of books and pot brownies.

Unfortunately those two things were not enough to salvage this book for me. In short, the primary romance that compelled Birdie to make her choices was baffling and wooden. Arthur and Birdie had truly no chemistry. They have no spark, no interaction that felt compelling and passionate. Instead it was just a bunch of weird interactions and some “wild” sex scenes that involved mostly biting. And even then, it still often was described as cumbersome and awkward. We only know that they “love” each other because they say the words, and because I guess he’s nice to her child. It honestly was not compelling and it just highlighted how irresponsible and impulsive she was to basically insinuate herself into moving in with him. 

I also just thought the plot was so frustrating. The mother character, Birdie, constantly makes irresponsible decisions for her and her child. Instead of making any small, meaningful changes she makes grandiose plans and in the long term ruins multiple lives. On one hand her fate somewhat felt like a fitting end to a “fairy tale” that’s dark and instructive; impulsive people who trust too much can be felled by their choices. 

I also, weirdly, thought the book wasn’t long enough. While the book was resplendent with detail, we often got “telling” instead of “showing.” The romance between Byrdie and Arthur as well as the growing discontent in the cabin all seem to be relayed secondhand, or, at the very least, mentioned only at the last possible section. 

I think for people who love wilderness stories or who have a fondness for stories of precocious young children with unstable mothers, this may be a selection you enjoy. I think it’s a very beautifully told story, but relatively thin on meaningful character interaction. 

2/5. 

At face value, the Book of Goose is a wistful, reminiscent story about a whirlwind period in a young teen’s life. A girl from rural France with a misunderstood best friend, they decide to write a book which becomes a bestseller. The friend decides the main character take all the credit, and she is shepherded away to an English finishing school to become the protege of an overbearing headmistress. 

Unfortunately this book is plagued by a few major things that make it a slog of a read, despite an otherwise interesting premise. 

1. The writing is tepid, overly complicated, and seems like it’s trying too hard to be high-literature. “You can not cut an apple with an apple.” Is one of the many nonsense lines we’re fed from the adult protagonist. 

2. The best friend is so over the top terrible. While she’s supposed to be an unloved, uncouth peasant girl she comes off as a raging sociopath who is horribly abusive to Agnès. You’re left wondering, “really? This is who the whole world spins for?” 

The way the author portrays the obsession and overwhelming preoccupation with Fabienne that borders on Sapphic interest is the best part of the book. It is so accurate for those young female friendships that burn brightly but then putter out. Unfortunately you’re left wondering WHY is the obsession so great between the characters as they very often seem to dislike each other when they’re not writing love letters.  

3. Agnès, our narrator, had about as much agency and decisiveness as a pool noodle. She’s completely passive unless it’s obsessing over Fabienne. She has truly no personal qualities besides being more pleasant than her friend. 



My final qualm (a joke, but worth mentioning) is that there are only 2 or 3 mere mentions of Geese. Barely enough goose content to be called the Book of Goose.