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imaginary_space's reviews
238 reviews
The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang
challenging
dark
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
I nearly dnf'd it, because it seemed like SUCH a generic, boring YA magical girl school story. People told me it would get better later on, so I kept on reading, and it did. It got really good at times. But I think by that time, the book had already lost me and I couldn't really get into it again. I liked the characters, the mythology, the whole world building and that it's steeped in real-world history, it just seemed ... long. But then again, some plot points that seemed important were handled so quickly. I guess I'm trying to say ... the pacing and built of the story arc felt off for me.
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
challenging
dark
funny
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
I can see it's clever and witty, and definitely quotable. There's a lot to discuss, and I can appreciate all of that. But still, there is such a thing as "too wordy". There's also such a thing as pretentious. Several times, I wanted to scream, "I get it, you detest society, now move the fuck on!"
Loved the ending, though.
Loved the ending, though.
The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. Le Guin
With The Tombs of Atuan, Ursula K. Le Guin takes a very different approach from A Wizard of Earthsea, offering a novel that is more atmospheric, more about mood and setting than plot. While this may not appeal to everyone, I absolutely loved it. The book is drenched in an eerie, almost suffocating atmosphere, full of quiet suspense and mystery. The world is no less rich than in the first book, but this time, it’s focused on a single, isolated setting—one that carries an almost tangible weight of history and tradition. I also appreciated how this book takes us to an entirely different part of Earthsea.
Where A Wizard of Earthsea was a story of personal growth and self-discovery, The Tombs of Atuan is a story about power—who holds it, who gives it, how it can be taken, and what it even means. It is also a story about the slow, painful journey toward freedom, and the burden that comes with it. Our protagonist Tenar is intentionally passive, a stark contrast to Ged in Wizard. She is introduced as Arha, "The Eaten One," a title that strips her of identity, making her a vessel for something greater than herself. Le Guin has spoken about how, at the time, she couldn't give her female protagonist the same freedoms as a male hero because that wouldn’t have been true to reality. This makes Tenar’s journey all the more compelling.
One of the strongest aspects of this novel is the dynamic between the characters. Le Guin is always masterful at showing rather than telling, and this book is no exception. While Wizard had long stretches of Ged alone, learning through introspection, Tombs teaches us about the world and the intricate power structures of the priesthood through interactions. The relationships between Tenar and those around her—Thar, Kossil, her nameless servant—are fascinating and I had fun always trying to read between the lines. My favorite dynamic was probably between Arha and Thar/Kossil, but I found the most interesting to be between Arha and her servant.
The setting itself is one of my favorite aspects. I absolutely loved the eerie, claustrophobic environment of the Tombs, with its sense of thinly veiled hopelessness. One scene that stood out in particular was when Arha entered the Undertomb for the first time. I enjoyed the way Le Guin describes the oppressive darkness, the strange sensations, and Kossil’s unnerving behavior.
Overall, The Tombs of Atuan feels more mature than A Wizard of Earthsea, and maybe that’s why I liked it more. The creeping suspense, the mystery surrounding the Tombs, and the complex power struggles make it a fascinating and rewarding read.
challenging
dark
mysterious
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
"since I was writing about the people, who in most societies have not been given much power - women - it seemed perfectly plausible to place my heroine in a situation that led her to question the nature and value of power itself."
With The Tombs of Atuan, Ursula K. Le Guin takes a very different approach from A Wizard of Earthsea, offering a novel that is more atmospheric, more about mood and setting than plot. While this may not appeal to everyone, I absolutely loved it. The book is drenched in an eerie, almost suffocating atmosphere, full of quiet suspense and mystery. The world is no less rich than in the first book, but this time, it’s focused on a single, isolated setting—one that carries an almost tangible weight of history and tradition. I also appreciated how this book takes us to an entirely different part of Earthsea.
"What she had begun to learn was the weight of liberty. Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake. It is not easy. It is not a gift given, but a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one. The road goes upward toward the light; but the laden traveler may never reach the end of it."
Where A Wizard of Earthsea was a story of personal growth and self-discovery, The Tombs of Atuan is a story about power—who holds it, who gives it, how it can be taken, and what it even means. It is also a story about the slow, painful journey toward freedom, and the burden that comes with it. Our protagonist Tenar is intentionally passive, a stark contrast to Ged in Wizard. She is introduced as Arha, "The Eaten One," a title that strips her of identity, making her a vessel for something greater than herself. Le Guin has spoken about how, at the time, she couldn't give her female protagonist the same freedoms as a male hero because that wouldn’t have been true to reality. This makes Tenar’s journey all the more compelling.
"I could put a girl at the heart of my story, but I couldn't give her a man's freedom, or chances equal to a man's chances. She couldn't be a hero in the hero-tale sense. Not even in a fantasy? No. Because to me, fantasy isn't wishful thinking, but a way of reflecting, and reflecting on reality."
One of the strongest aspects of this novel is the dynamic between the characters. Le Guin is always masterful at showing rather than telling, and this book is no exception. While Wizard had long stretches of Ged alone, learning through introspection, Tombs teaches us about the world and the intricate power structures of the priesthood through interactions. The relationships between Tenar and those around her—Thar, Kossil, her nameless servant—are fascinating and I had fun always trying to read between the lines. My favorite dynamic was probably between Arha and Thar/Kossil, but I found the most interesting to be between Arha and her servant.
And of course, it was nice to see Ged again. His presence in this story is different—he’s not the young, reckless boy we followed before, but someone calmer and wiser.
The setting itself is one of my favorite aspects. I absolutely loved the eerie, claustrophobic environment of the Tombs, with its sense of thinly veiled hopelessness. One scene that stood out in particular was when Arha entered the Undertomb for the first time. I enjoyed the way Le Guin describes the oppressive darkness, the strange sensations, and Kossil’s unnerving behavior.
Overall, The Tombs of Atuan feels more mature than A Wizard of Earthsea, and maybe that’s why I liked it more. The creeping suspense, the mystery surrounding the Tombs, and the complex power struggles make it a fascinating and rewarding read.
"The Earth is beautiful, and bright, and kindly, but that is not all. The Earth is also terrible, and dark, and cruel. The rabbit shrieks dying in the green meadows. The mountains clench their great hands full of hidden fire. There are sharks in the sea, and there is cruelty in men's eyes. And where men worship these things and abase themselves before them, there evil breeds; there places are made in the world where darkness gathers, places given over wholly to the Ones whom we call Nameless, the ancient and holy Powers of the Earth before the Light, the powers of the dark, of ruin, of madness."
A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin
Ursula K. Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea is a classic of fantasy literature, and though it was first published in 1968, it remains as relevant today as ever. A Wizard of Earthsea offers a coming-of-age story that respects its audience, an intricate magic system, and an interesting setting. If more contemporary YA followed in its footsteps, I think I’d enjoy the genre much more.
One of the things that immediately stood out to me was how Le Guin refuses to infantilize her teenage readers. Many popular YA novels today tend to over-explain motivations, emotions, and hit you on the nose with their themes, leaving little room for readers to engage critically. A Wizard of Earthsea does the opposite—it expects the reader to pay attention, to read between the lines, and to question the protagonist’s choices.
The story follows Ged, a gifted young boy who makes a reckless mistake and spends much of his life trying to fix it. His journey isn’t just about fighting external enemies; it’s about understanding himself and the world around him. This emphasis on personal growth rather than grand battles is refreshing, especially in a genre often dominated by war and large-scale conflict.
The worldbuilding is another highlight. I’m always drawn to settings that revolve around islands and/or the sea, and Earthsea—an archipelago of scattered islands, each with its own culture and history—instantly captivated me. The world feels lived-in, and its magic system, which revolves around knowing the true names of things, is one of the most fascinating aspects of the book. Magic in A Wizard of Earthsea isn’t about flashy spells or limitless power; it’s about knowledge, balance, and responsibility. You can’t change something unless you truly understand it, which is a concept that fits beautifully into the book’s themes of self-awareness and wisdom.
Ged’s character arc is satisfying in many ways. He starts off arrogant, makes a disastrous mistake, and must then spend years coming to terms with it. His journey of self-discovery is well-executed, and I appreciate that Le Guin allows him to struggle and learn. That said, I found it difficult to connect with him on an emotional level. Perhaps it’s the style of narration—more distant and mythic than personal—but I never quite felt as immersed in his emotions as I would have liked.
Even though this is a YA novel, Le Guin's prose is as elegant and deliberate as in her adult works. Every sentence feels carefully chosen, no word wasted. The introspective, philosophical tone reminds me of Michael Ende’s Momo, another book that deals with deeper themes through the lens of a fantastical story. I would have loved to read A Wizard of Earthsea in my youth; I think it would have resonated more with me at a younger age.
Overall, I’d rate this around 3.5 stars personally, but I have to give it extra points for being very progressive for its time (Le Guin's characters are dark-skinned and she rejected illustrated editions for years, until a publisher would not try to white-wash them). I recommend getting one of the editions that include her comments and essays, they are very enlightening and interesting to read. A Wizard of Earthsea is a timeless and thoughtful book that still has plenty to offer readers today.
adventurous
challenging
inspiring
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
"The notion that fantasy is only for the immature rises from an obstinate misunderstanding of both maturity and the imagination."
Ursula K. Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea is a classic of fantasy literature, and though it was first published in 1968, it remains as relevant today as ever. A Wizard of Earthsea offers a coming-of-age story that respects its audience, an intricate magic system, and an interesting setting. If more contemporary YA followed in its footsteps, I think I’d enjoy the genre much more.
One of the things that immediately stood out to me was how Le Guin refuses to infantilize her teenage readers. Many popular YA novels today tend to over-explain motivations, emotions, and hit you on the nose with their themes, leaving little room for readers to engage critically. A Wizard of Earthsea does the opposite—it expects the reader to pay attention, to read between the lines, and to question the protagonist’s choices.
The story follows Ged, a gifted young boy who makes a reckless mistake and spends much of his life trying to fix it. His journey isn’t just about fighting external enemies; it’s about understanding himself and the world around him. This emphasis on personal growth rather than grand battles is refreshing, especially in a genre often dominated by war and large-scale conflict.
The worldbuilding is another highlight. I’m always drawn to settings that revolve around islands and/or the sea, and Earthsea—an archipelago of scattered islands, each with its own culture and history—instantly captivated me. The world feels lived-in, and its magic system, which revolves around knowing the true names of things, is one of the most fascinating aspects of the book. Magic in A Wizard of Earthsea isn’t about flashy spells or limitless power; it’s about knowledge, balance, and responsibility. You can’t change something unless you truly understand it, which is a concept that fits beautifully into the book’s themes of self-awareness and wisdom.
"Think of this: that every word, every act of our Art is said and is done either for good, or for evil. Before you speak or do you must know the price that is to pay!"
Ged’s character arc is satisfying in many ways. He starts off arrogant, makes a disastrous mistake, and must then spend years coming to terms with it. His journey of self-discovery is well-executed, and I appreciate that Le Guin allows him to struggle and learn. That said, I found it difficult to connect with him on an emotional level. Perhaps it’s the style of narration—more distant and mythic than personal—but I never quite felt as immersed in his emotions as I would have liked.
"To be the man he can be, Ged has to find out who and what his real enemy is. He has to find out what it means to be himself. That requires not a war but a search and a discovery. The search takes him through mortal danger, loss, and suffering. The discovery brings him victory, the kind of victory that isn't the end of a battle but the beginning of a life."
Even though this is a YA novel, Le Guin's prose is as elegant and deliberate as in her adult works. Every sentence feels carefully chosen, no word wasted. The introspective, philosophical tone reminds me of Michael Ende’s Momo, another book that deals with deeper themes through the lens of a fantastical story. I would have loved to read A Wizard of Earthsea in my youth; I think it would have resonated more with me at a younger age.
Overall, I’d rate this around 3.5 stars personally, but I have to give it extra points for being very progressive for its time (Le Guin's characters are dark-skinned and she rejected illustrated editions for years, until a publisher would not try to white-wash them). I recommend getting one of the editions that include her comments and essays, they are very enlightening and interesting to read. A Wizard of Earthsea is a timeless and thoughtful book that still has plenty to offer readers today.
"[...]my mind doesn't work in terms of war. My imagination refuses to limit all the elements that make an adventure story and make it exciting - danger, risk, challenge, courage - to battlefields. A hero whose heroism consists of killing people is uninteresting to me[...]"
Drei Frauen träumten vom Sozialismus by Carolin Würfel
Das Buch ist exzellent recherchiert, aber ich habe einen Stern abgezogen, weil der Schreibstil nicht immer passend ist und das Kapitel, das als Brief an eine der Schriftstellerinnen formuliert ist, mich irritiert hat. Das passt so gar nicht zum Rest und wirkt für ein Sachbuch seltsam persönlich.
Allerdings ist es allein wegen des Themas schon lesenswert. Maxie Wander, Brigitte Reimann, Christa Wolf – drei Schriftstellerinnen der DDR, deren frühe Biografien unterschiedlicher nicht sein könnten. Thematisch geht es gleich hart mit dem Zweiten Weltkrieg und seinen Auswirkungen los, besonders natürlich denen auf die Individuen und ihr Umfeld.
Es ist faszinierend, wie diese drei Frauen, die aus völlig unterschiedlichen Verhältnissen stammen, im Leben mit ähnlichen Problemen konfrontiert wurden.
Viele Erwähnungen des DDR-Alltags kommen mir aus Erzählungen meiner Familie bekannt vor, und auch die Mysogynie, die den dreien entgegen schlägt, bleibt nicht unerwähnt. Ich habe sogar verstanden, wie man zum damaligen Zeitpunkt auf die Idee kommen könnte, dass es mit der Mauer in der DDR freier sein würde.
Jede der Schriftstellerinnen kommt durch ihre Handlungen mal unsympathisch rüber, und durch die Einordnung ist immer eine Nachvollziehbarkeit gegeben, aber wie stark man diese wertet, muss man als Leser*In selbst entscheiden. Der Text versucht also durchaus, zu erzählen und nicht zu bewerten, was ihm allerdings an zwei oder drei Stellen nicht ganz gelingt. Da ist dann die verwendete Sprache für das Geschilderte doch zu romantisierend, meiner Meinung nach.
Schade, dass keine Bilder enthalten sind, vor allem, da sich an einigen Stellen auf konkrete bezogen wird. Aber das war vermutlich eine ökonomische Entscheidung, um den Preis des Buches niedriger zu halten.
Ich glaube, ich werde noch eine Weile darüber nachdenken, was ich getan hätte, wenn ich von der Idee der DDR wirklich überzeugt gewesen wäre. Wieviel Freiheit gibt man auf für ein solches Ideal?
Zum Schluss noch ein höchst aktuelles Zitat von Brigitte Reimann:
challenging
informative
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.0
"Wer sozialistisch gefestigt war, brauchte keine Zensur, aber dort, wo die Wahrheit schief hing, musste man unbedingt einschreiten."
"Und ich frage mich, wie hoch der Preis unter Umständen wäre, den ich für dieses Heimatgefühl zu zahlen bereit wäre. Ich frage mich, welchen Preis ich täglich unbewusst zahle, einen Preis in der Münze: Wegsehen, weghören oder zumindest: schweigen." - Christa Wolf
Das Buch ist exzellent recherchiert, aber ich habe einen Stern abgezogen, weil der Schreibstil nicht immer passend ist und das Kapitel, das als Brief an eine der Schriftstellerinnen formuliert ist, mich irritiert hat. Das passt so gar nicht zum Rest und wirkt für ein Sachbuch seltsam persönlich.
Allerdings ist es allein wegen des Themas schon lesenswert. Maxie Wander, Brigitte Reimann, Christa Wolf – drei Schriftstellerinnen der DDR, deren frühe Biografien unterschiedlicher nicht sein könnten. Thematisch geht es gleich hart mit dem Zweiten Weltkrieg und seinen Auswirkungen los, besonders natürlich denen auf die Individuen und ihr Umfeld.
Es ist faszinierend, wie diese drei Frauen, die aus völlig unterschiedlichen Verhältnissen stammen, im Leben mit ähnlichen Problemen konfrontiert wurden.
Viele Erwähnungen des DDR-Alltags kommen mir aus Erzählungen meiner Familie bekannt vor, und auch die Mysogynie, die den dreien entgegen schlägt, bleibt nicht unerwähnt. Ich habe sogar verstanden, wie man zum damaligen Zeitpunkt auf die Idee kommen könnte, dass es mit der Mauer in der DDR freier sein würde.
Jede der Schriftstellerinnen kommt durch ihre Handlungen mal unsympathisch rüber, und durch die Einordnung ist immer eine Nachvollziehbarkeit gegeben, aber wie stark man diese wertet, muss man als Leser*In selbst entscheiden. Der Text versucht also durchaus, zu erzählen und nicht zu bewerten, was ihm allerdings an zwei oder drei Stellen nicht ganz gelingt. Da ist dann die verwendete Sprache für das Geschilderte doch zu romantisierend, meiner Meinung nach.
Schade, dass keine Bilder enthalten sind, vor allem, da sich an einigen Stellen auf konkrete bezogen wird. Aber das war vermutlich eine ökonomische Entscheidung, um den Preis des Buches niedriger zu halten.
Zitate:
"Freiheit war für ihre Generation eine komplizierte Geschichte. Freiheit musste hinter die sozialistische Sache treten und das war ein teurer Preis."
Ich glaube, ich werde noch eine Weile darüber nachdenken, was ich getan hätte, wenn ich von der Idee der DDR wirklich überzeugt gewesen wäre. Wieviel Freiheit gibt man auf für ein solches Ideal?
"Sie musste selbst erst Schriftstellerin werden, um zu der Einsicht zu gelangen, dass man Bücher nicht nur rein ideologisch betrachten kann."
"Den Kurs am Ende ändern würde ja das ganze eigene Dasein in Frage stellen."
Zum Schluss noch ein höchst aktuelles Zitat von Brigitte Reimann:
"Das war nicht Hitler, das waren wir alle."
...
Kartographie des Inneren by Stephen Graham Jones
challenging
dark
emotional
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
This was creepy in all the right places, but first and foremost a very tragic childhood story. Some of the implications hit hard.
Die Nacht der Schaufensterpuppen by Stephen Graham Jones
dark
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
I loved this story about creepy mannequins that is actually about growing up, trauma and life change.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death and Murder
Moderate: Car accident
Minor: Gore and Suicidal thoughts
Bad Cree by Jessica Johns
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
A beautiful story about community and grief, with some great creepy moments.
"Our ancestors and spirits have been speaking to us in a million different ways for thousands of years. You think they would have a hard time figuring out texting?"
"Is that what Sabrina was? A casualty of a hungry monster that was brought here by something else? How cruel that we can't even hurt in peace, that we have no time to try to heal. We can't even grieve without something coming for us."
FRAUEN LITERATUR: Abgewertet, vergessen, wiederentdeckt by Nicole Seifert
challenging
dark
informative
3.75
Ein sehr informativer Rundumschlag, der nicht nur vergangene und immer noch aktuelle Probleme der Literaturszene beleuchtet, sondern auch gut als Argumentationsgrundlage dienen kann. Vieles war mir nicht neu, dennoch finde ich das Buch sowohl für Menschen, die sich gerade erst mit dem Thema beschäftigen, als auch für solche, die schon einiges Wissen mitbringen, wertvoll. Ein schöner Nebeneffekt ist, dass man viele Autorinnen (wieder) entdeckt.
In Zeiten, in denen männliche Autoren immer noch Kleinkind-Meltdowns bekommen, weil sie einen Buchpreis nicht gewinnen, und die Folge daraus hunderte Interviews sind, in denen der arme Mann seine Perspektive darlegen darf, sollte dieses Buch auch und gerade von Männern in die Hand genommen werden.
Was mir fehlt, ist ein Blick in den Bereich der spekulativen Literatur. Gerade in den Genres Science Fiction und Fantasy werden Autorinnen mit den gleichen Argumenten klein gehalten wie im Literaturbetrieb, zusätzlich zu der Tendenz, diese Genres selbst abzuwerten. Ich kann mir vorstellen, dass es den Rahmen des Buches gesprengt hätte, darauf näher einzugehen, aber ich hätte mir ein Kapitel dazu gewünscht, weil die Abwertung von Fantasy/Science Fiction und die Abwertung von Autorinnen in der Literatur so viele Parallelen aufweisen. Dass Seifert der Kurzgeschichte "Die gelbe Tapete" von Charlotte Perkins Gilman sogar das Genre (Horror) abspricht, als müsse sie die Erzählung erst auf die Ebene "wertvoller Literatur" heben, um sich im Kontext ihres Buches damit auseinandersetzen zu können, hat mich abgeschreckt. Dabei bedient sich Perkins nicht der Stilmittel des Horrors, um Literatur über die Unterdrückung der Frau zu schreiben, wie Seifert behauptet, sie schreibt ganz bewusst eine Horrorgeschichte ÜBER die Unterdrückung der Frau. Hätte sich die Autorin ein wenig mehr mit dem Genre beschäftigt, wüsste sie, dass einige der besten Werke dieses Genres eine gehörige Portion Realwelt-Horror enthalten - und genau das macht einen großen Teil ihres literarischen Wertes aus.
Trotz des Teils, der mich abgeschreckt hat, runde ich meine Bewertung auf, weil ich es wichtig finde, dass das Buch existiert und gelesen wird.
In Zeiten, in denen männliche Autoren immer noch Kleinkind-Meltdowns bekommen, weil sie einen Buchpreis nicht gewinnen, und die Folge daraus hunderte Interviews sind, in denen der arme Mann seine Perspektive darlegen darf, sollte dieses Buch auch und gerade von Männern in die Hand genommen werden.
Was mir fehlt, ist ein Blick in den Bereich der spekulativen Literatur. Gerade in den Genres Science Fiction und Fantasy werden Autorinnen mit den gleichen Argumenten klein gehalten wie im Literaturbetrieb, zusätzlich zu der Tendenz, diese Genres selbst abzuwerten. Ich kann mir vorstellen, dass es den Rahmen des Buches gesprengt hätte, darauf näher einzugehen, aber ich hätte mir ein Kapitel dazu gewünscht, weil die Abwertung von Fantasy/Science Fiction und die Abwertung von Autorinnen in der Literatur so viele Parallelen aufweisen. Dass Seifert der Kurzgeschichte "Die gelbe Tapete" von Charlotte Perkins Gilman sogar das Genre (Horror) abspricht, als müsse sie die Erzählung erst auf die Ebene "wertvoller Literatur" heben, um sich im Kontext ihres Buches damit auseinandersetzen zu können, hat mich abgeschreckt. Dabei bedient sich Perkins nicht der Stilmittel des Horrors, um Literatur über die Unterdrückung der Frau zu schreiben, wie Seifert behauptet, sie schreibt ganz bewusst eine Horrorgeschichte ÜBER die Unterdrückung der Frau. Hätte sich die Autorin ein wenig mehr mit dem Genre beschäftigt, wüsste sie, dass einige der besten Werke dieses Genres eine gehörige Portion Realwelt-Horror enthalten - und genau das macht einen großen Teil ihres literarischen Wertes aus.
Trotz des Teils, der mich abgeschreckt hat, runde ich meine Bewertung auf, weil ich es wichtig finde, dass das Buch existiert und gelesen wird.
Sweep of the Heart by Ilona Andrews
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.0
At times, this felt like one of those filler episodes in TV series, but I wasn't mad about it. The intergalactic bachelor show and the cast of characters it brought with it was fun, and even emotional at times, and I appreciated to learn more about Caldenia and her story.