gabberjaws's reviews
544 reviews

No, I was not kidding when I said I needed the sequel as soon as I finished The Body in The Garden, and I am pleased to announce that this book did I what I was hoping it would and built upon the foundations set in book 1.

Silence in the Library was as charming and cozy as its predecessor, if not more. The mystery was a little more complex (but not overly so, it's still a cozy mystery after all). The clues were still spaced out incredibly well, no aha moments and information were withheld, and we continued to learn things as the characters did.

What pleased me the most about this book was that Lily's personality was a little more developed this time. I loathe her father and he's a character I'd rather not see for few books, but watching Lily navigate her strained relationship with him gave her a touch of humanness that she was missing in the first book. It was also really lovely to see that she was even less infallible in this book than she was in The Body in The Garden. Her sympathies and own experiences clouded her judgement quite a few times, and she required the guidance and insights of her friends (yes, Captain Hartley and Ofelia are back) to solve this case properly. You love to see it.

Schellmen's push for diversity in this regency series has not gone unnoticed by me. She did not stop at having POC peppered into the cast, but introduces characters who are on the spectrum in this book. And I personally think she handled it very respectfully and delicately, especially with presenting Autism during a time where it wasn't very well understood. As always, don't take my word for it; please listen to Autistic People when they talk about the portrayal of Autistic characters.

But yeah, I think this is a series I'll definitely be happy to stick with. It's not overly demanding, it's engaging, it's comforting, and it's a pleasure to read. What's not to like? 

When I first read this a year ago, it was the first Moreno-Garcia book I'd picked up. Now, having read Gods of Jade and Shadow, and Velvet was the Night I've realized that there's a... formalness to her writing that lends itself so well to this specific kind of novel than it does to any other genre that I've seen from her so far. It's a writing style that works so beautifully with this slow-build, creeping dread, plot-driven horror that's set in the past - and it's probably why this is my favorite Moreno-Garcia book.

Set in the Mexican countryside in the 1950s, Mexican Gothic immerses you deeply into its time period from the very first page. The main character is a socialite whose parents want her to get married and settle down into the only role they think a respectable young woman should have; a housewife. Noemi? She wants to study anthropology in college. So when Noemi's cousin Catalina sends a concerning letter home, Noemi's concerned father asks her to go visit and make sure Catalina is safe amongst her new family, and in return, he'll let her go to college. Noemi doesn't even think to say no.

Thus begins Noemi's journey to the High Place, and into the lair of the mysterious, secretive, and hostile Doyles.

I don't quite know how to explain how much I enjoyed this book. It felt so familiar and yet so fresh and new at the same time. "Woman Goes to A Haunted House to Save Someone She Loves and Is Treated Terribly by its Inhabitants" is a trope we've seen time and time again, but Moreno- Garcia found a way to take this trope to some new weird places that made it so wholly unique.

I mean, mushrooms that bond with a certain kind of person and then prolong your life, collect your memories and tie you to their breeding ground???? Who'd have THUNK!

And this might not be a very popular opinion, but I ADORE horror that's weird; and between the parallels to The Yellow Wallpaper and Crimson Peak, as well as Mexican Gothic's own creepy, weird newness, this checked a lot of boxes for me.

I liked Noemi. She was vain, and a little spoiled and kind of rude and she made for such an interesting heroine - especially with the themes of white supremacy in this book. This was a woman who knew her worth. She was going to take any of the White Nonsense. She wasn't going to take the Cis Man nonsense, either. I found it really refreshing to see a heroine that refused to be gaslit into thinking herself inferior for the colour of her skin or for her gender. She wasn't a badass Buffy-type hero who was able to punch her way out of the horror story, and she questioned a lot, but she never once doubted her worth or who she was, and considering the mind games she was up against, I found that admirable.

I even liked Francis, who could be written off as a weak cowardly character who only stepped up because he got a crush. It took me a while to see it, I'm not going to lie, but somewhere down the line I realized it wasn't as simple as Boy Gets Crush and Grows a Conscience, but something a little more nuanced and complicated. Man falls in love and realizes maybe there's something to live for and this doesn't HAVE to be his future, more like. Fucking chef's kiss, man.

Anyway, yeah, this was great. Even having read only 3 of her books I'm willing to bet this is her best one. I can definitely see myself picking this up when I'm in the mood for weird, haunting atmosphere. If that's your jam, definitely check this out. 

I think what's been disappointing me the most about this series so far is that it has potential. No, really. A young woman training to be a forensic scientist in the Victorian era, and stopping serial killers with the help of her socially inept, but brilliant and charming, partner? Such delicious potential. But unfortunately the writing doesn't quite do the premise justice.

I was hoping to enjoy this one more than I did the first book, but I don't think I did. It wasn't unbearable, don't get me wrong. Like I said, the premise of these books really is solid and makes for an interesting read. But once again, the killer's identity was fairly obvious, and the writing too often chooses to focus on how Special Audrey Rose is, and on hers and Thomas' relationship, that it forgets the plot sometimes. There's no real sense of urgency or danger either; their fellow students are dropping like flies, but we never really feel like Audrey Rose and Thomas are in any jeopardy. The emotional component is just... severely lacking tbh.

(I'm also not a big fan of the "Victorian/Regency era woman wears pants and therefore she is the Most Feminist" cliche, but that's a minor peeve)

It's still kinda entertaining enough that I think I still might stick with this and read the rest of the series, but it's on thin ice. 

 My favorite thing about T. Kingfisher's novel The Twisted Ones was that it had so much heart . So, when I went into this, I was hoping for the same - and man oh man did Kingfisher deliver.

The Hollow Places follows Kara - aka Carrot - a newly divorced freelance graphic designer who let her ex have the house and desperately needs a place to stay that ISN'T with her mother. When Carrot's Uncle Earl offers to let her stay at his Museum (think Gruncle Stan's Mystery Shack, but a much nicer Gruncle Stan) and run it while he gets his much needed knee surgery, Carrot jumps at the chance. She loves Uncle Earl and the museum, and is very aware that she may not have survived living with her mother.

A month into running the place with Uncle Earl, things seem to be going pretty well and he goes off to stay with Carrot's mom for his surgery and recovery period, and Carrot's left to mind the museum on her own. Which goes pretty damn swimmingly until someone knocks a hole in one of the museum walls that opens up into an impossible bunker that should NOT be able to exist.

You've gotta give them props for it, because Carrot and Simon (her barista friend from the coffee shop next door) tried very hard not to become main characters in a horror movie. But, alas, things had different plans and they wound up becoming main characters in a horror movie book.

And lemme just tell you, the horror aspect of this was sublime. It felt vaguely Annihilation-like (the movie, not the book. I haven't read that and I hear it's very bureaucratic?) and incredibly sinister. The strong sci-fi energy of was super satisfying and gave The Hollow Places an edge over The Twisted Ones. Between the Willows, and Them and the willow world, Kingfisher wove a horror story that was full of existentialism, and gently mind-fucky.

I especially liked the way the scope was narrowed towards the conclusion. The main horrors in themselves were Too Big and Too Complex for Carrot and Simon to conceivably fight on their own. But Kingfisher narrowed the circle slowly and just enough that their eventual escape from this horror tale felt justified, hard-won and, most importantly, reasonable.

The driving force in this book was, once again, how much Carrot loved. She loved her uncle, she loved the museum, she loved her uncle's cat Beau, and while her deeply sibling-esque bond with Simon might not have felt like love just yet, it was well on its way there. You cared for these characters, and for the new life Carrot was building in the wake of her divorce. You wanted her and Simon to make their way out of this place and close that goddamned hole up for good. You had your heart in your throat when Beau followed his cat-instincts and put himself in incredible harm's way.

I knew I'd found a good thing when I read The Twisted Ones, but the Hollow Places has absolutely cemented my love for how Kingfisher writes horror - and I'll definitely be reading more of her work. 

 There were parts if this that I loved, and there were parts of this that didn't quite work for me.

The Death of Jane Lawrence follow Jane, a practical-minded young woman who's looking for a marriage of convenience. Her guardians, the Cunninghams, are moving out of town, and if she moves with them the funds left to her by her parents won't be enough to support her if she is to be out in society. And as an unmarried woman who's old enough to raise eyebrows about her unmarried state, she will have to be out in society. Her only option is to remain in her town of Larrenton, and marry.

But Jane does not believe herself to be suited to married life. She does not form attachments easily, and craves solitude and freedom; so a normal match won't work for her. Enter Augustine Lawrence, a surgeon in his thirties who is also raising eyebrows at his unmarried state. By all accounts, he seems to only have time for his surgery and his patients, and has the odd ritual of returning to his family home, Lindridge Hall, every night, even though it would be more prudent for him to stay in the rooms above his surgery. Augustine requires someone to stay at the surgery at night to fetch him if the need arises; and his steward really needs a night off. These little oddities put Augustine at the very top of Jane's list of potential husbands. He needs someone to live apart from him in the surgery, and she has no desire to be a traditional wife and bear a big brood of children. She can keep his books and play nurse until he arrives at the surgery in the nights. It's perfect.

And honestly, it would have been perfect, but this is what ended up being what disappointed me the most about this book. Jane's proposed marriage of convenience and business agreement didn't stay that way along. No sir, she and Augustine went completely gaga over each other the very second time they met - for almost no reason - and the emotional core of this book suffered for it.

I could absolutely, one hundred percent see it working if they'd stuck to their "business deal" marriage for a bit; if they'd stayed business partners for a little bit during their marriage and slowly grown to love each other. THEN I could see Jane doing everything she did to save him and break the spell the house had on him. THEN I could have understood the horrors and tortures this woman endured. For a husband she had learned to respect and love over time? Sure! Inject it into my veins!

But going through all that for a man she barely knew, had met only, what, two weeks ago, and was only attracted to because of unexplained heat and tension between them??? No. No thank you. You cannot sit here and tell me this woman was willing to die for this dude just because of a magnetic pull. No.

It's so disappointing, because I cannot fault the horror aspect of this book one bit. It's a glorious mind-fuck that ties itself very cleverly to maths of all things. The magic system is complicated and dark AF, and Jane's slow decent into madness was beyond compelling. It even wrapped up pretty well. Not a completely happy ending, and no one's hands were completely clean - which is, to me, the best kind of ending you can have with a horror novel. Good in the grand scheme of things, but fucked up when you think about it too hard.

My ONLY hang up is that I couldn't give a damn about Jane's motivation. I was rooting for her to succeed, yeah, but in a very insubstantial way. If I'd had my way she'd have noped the fuck out of that house and moved on to greener pastures instead of breaking her literal body to save this guy she barely knew. Like I said, the emotional core suffered.

But if you that isn't a complete deal-breaker for you, then this is a solid horror that does its horror well. I'd definitely recommend it. 

 Let me get this out of the way right now: The Last Graduate does NOT suffer from Sophomore Syndrome. It picks up immediately where the last book lets off, but is instantly more thoughtful and refined than its predecessor.

Novik is a master at picking you up and plopping you into different worlds. All of her work has been so consistently atmospheric and well-built; it’s honestly my favourite part about reading one of her books. It's also one of my least favourite parts because when the book's done it takes forever for my to pull myself out of its world. Like,,, now what?

The stakes are so much higher in this book, and El, Orion & Co are utterly root-for-able. El herself grows in such leaps and bounds in this book, it’s so freakin’ heartwarming. Where A Deadly Education spent the brunt of its course focusing on building El and Orion's friendship, The Last Graduate shifts its focus onto Els relationship with other people. The first book saw her open up to the possibility of friendship and human connection, and now it's time to see where it can take her.

It resulted in an entirely wholesome, sweet journey of a young girl learning to care for other people and let them care for her; after a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. And because Novik is evil incarnate, she gave us THAT ending. Which, don't get me wrong; she built up to it. That ending was coming since the first book. It was expected, and it made narrative sense. BUT IT STILL HURT AND WAS CRUEL AS FUCK AND I'M STILL NOT OVER IT.

HOW DARE SHE MAKE ME WORRY FOR MY SWEET HIMBO CHILDE FOR A WHOLE YEAR NOW

PS:
Gonna go on record right now and say that, as a brown woman from the global south, I personally didn't think the first book was racist. (Minus that whole bit with the locs, which was fucked up and unforgivable) It 100000% needed sensitivity readers, but I do feel like perhaps some of the seemingly racist bits were presented out of context by other readers in some reviews. I didn't review the previous book as I felt like it wasn't my place to say anything, and I did not want to invalidate people who may have been hurt by the book. I'm saying all this now in the interest of full disclosure, and as always am open to listen to people who might have been harmed. 

Thirteen Storeys unravels the mystery of Banyan Court; a large luxury apartment complex designed and built by billionaire Tobias Fell, who was brutally murdered during a dinner party he was hosting. The case is officially unsolved, but through the stories Fell's 13 dinner guests, of the events that lead to their unexpected invitations to the billionaire's penthouse dinner party, the details and circumstances of Fell's demise slowly start falling into place.

Trust Jonathan Sims to go, "a haunted house, but it's a luxury apartment building. Also fuck rich people"

Thirteen Storeys had all the qualities of Sims' writing that made The Magnus Archives sing. From the cast of characters who all felt and sounded different from each other and wholly their own, to the slow, creeping dread and deep seated feeling of discomfort and unease that he wields masterfully.

The individual stories weren't all on the same level in terms of quality. There were a few in the middle that didn't quite hold my attention away the rest did. But overall, this book was riveting and an incredibly fresh take on the haunted house sub genre. Sims also toyed with the ancient burial ground trope in a way that I personally thought was *chef's kiss*

The Magnus Archives may be over, but this book is solid proof that Jonathan Sims is just getting started. I'm so excited to read whatever he puts out. Just give it to me.