Thank you so much to authors Jamie Pacton & Rebecca Podos, DelRey, and NetGalley for providing me with an uncorrected proof of this novel! All opinions within this review are voluntarily given and entirely my own. Homegrown Magic publishes 11 March 2025!
This was very sweet — like reading a novelization of a queer TTRPG or RPG. I was pleased to learn from the dedication and the acknowledgements that this story did indeed begin in a virtual D&D group populated by authors. The world of this book doesn’t seem to be inhabited by as wide a variety of monsters and sapient species as might be expected from RPGs/TTRPGs — but the story is really just focused on what is relevant to the narratives of protagonists Yael and Margot, so there are only hints of the world and the magic beyond them (giant spiders, bags of holding, mechanical steeds, for example). Because of that focus, I would have loved to see more of the minutiae of their lives as they begin to grow back together. There are semi-frequent time jumps that often seem to skip over this type of development between the two, but more of that minutiae could have really bolstered the 'coziness' of this story (which I think did have quite high stakes for a cozy fantasy).
Thrilled to learn that there will be a sequel novel in 2026 — though I will say I’m a bit sad that my uncorrected proof did not have the preview (but did have a placeholder page for it). Not actually an issue at all, to be clear, I just wanted to read it, lol. This is also, presumably, the reason for several (non-major) narrative threads being left unresolved, so I look forward to seeing what the next novel entails!
Also — PERPETUAL STEW MENTION!!! And more than once! I love soup so much and thought this was such a silly, fun inclusion.
Thank you to Kensington Publishing/Erewhon Books and NetGalley for providing me with an eARC of this novel! All opinions within this review are voluntarily given and entirely my own.
Contrary to some of the other reviewers, I did really enjoy Foss as narrator— the dialect of her narrative voice added a great deal of depth to her character.
The most significant issue I take with this novel is that it is repeatedly emphasized that Foss, the protagonist, is ugly. “Ugly” is the word used to describe her more generally, but when describing the specific features that she feels make this so (red hair, round face, strong arms, solid figure, “my lumpen self”), it makes it seem that the author has written a fat protagonist without being willing to actually explore the intricacies of that. Fat is not synonymous with unattractive or ugly, but the pervasiveness of fatphobia certainly has an impact on what is excluded from desirability by society. The scene reflecting on the ‘Toad Wine’ incident begins to broach the topic in an abstracted way, but this is the closest it gets to being confronted by the text (as well as being the only elaborated example of Foss being appraised as ugly). It does seem that a fair amount of it is self-deprecating and internal rather than accurate or external, which also would have been very worthwhile to explore more in-depth.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
There is so much about this story that I loved, but I really, truly adored that a character named Hestia embodies the feeling of home for the protagonist (alongside the bayou being a more literal home, of course).
Moderate: Death, Gun violence, Homophobia, and Transphobia
Body horror, violence, implied transphobia, internalized transphobia and homophobia, gun violence, side character death, strangulation, implied drowning.
Thank you so much to Julia Armfield, Flatiron Books, and NetGalley for providing me with an uncorrected digital galley of this novel! All opinions within this review are voluntarily given and entirely my own.
Private Rites has a narrative style that often feels similar to a stage play, with an omniscient narrator and several chapters that feel especially like stage direction told in prose— the chapter ‘Before,’ and those labeled ‘City,’ for example. It is easy to see the influence of King Lear, which Private Rites does reimagine successfully, I think, despite some major changes to the tragedy (which is not unusual in a reimagining versus a retelling). The prose is rich and evocative, and while I wouldn’t call it horror, it does oscillate between a vague sense of unease and a more palpable dread. A sense of treading water and then drowning, literally and metaphorically.
The protagonists- sisters Isla, Irene, and Agnes- are flawed and at times frustrating to endure, though I wouldn’t call them unlikeable overall. Private Rites does spend a majority of its length exploring the minutiae of each of their lives as they navigate the waterlogged end-times, and they are characterized so well that it seems as though they might swim from the page into being. The setting, despite never being named anything more specific by the text than ‘City’ or ’the city,’ also feels similarly tangible, like it could be a place that exists in the present rather than a work of fiction. The novel in general feels very relevant, which only amplifies the sense of dread looming (and building) beneath the narrative’s surface.
I’ve already placed a library hold on the audiobook, because I truly loved the narrative style of Private Rites, and think it would be so well-suited to the audiobook format.
A short horror story following a gay trans man as he experiences an episode of derealization/depersonalization during an opening shift at his movie theater job. The prose is liminal, and atmospheric in a unique way— aided by moments in the text written like action lines, camera direction, etc.
Comped by the author to Jeff VanderMeer’s ‘Annihilation’ which does feel fitting— with maybe just a bit of ‘I Saw the TV Glow’ too. The horror elements were incredibly easy to relate to as a transmasculine person (though I am not aphantasic like Jack), and like ‘Annihilation’ I found myself very comforted by the protagonist despite the circumstances.