While I think the book started off strong, and by strong I mean embarrassingly horrifically took-me-four-days-to-get-past-chapter 1 teenage hormone riddled mess, the book definitely suffers from second-book syndrome. While I appreciate some of the directions this book goes in—Aaron has to reconcile his time on the police, Nick has powers that were pretty heavily implied in book 1—there were many directions that I didn't fully understand. I liked that all of the adults in the crew knew what was going on, but the fact that Seth reveals himself to the public is... a choice.
While I like the fact that this book plays with a lot of the superhero tropes, I wasn't a fan of how quickly they disregarded the "secret identity" part of the trope. Not because I'm a fan of the whole angsty "there's something going on I can't tell you about" trope, just for practicality's sake. The other thing I didn't like I'll talk about at the end of this review, because it's the major spoiler at the end of the book.
While I very much appreciated the introduction of new extraordinaries, I felt this boog lagged a lot compared to the first. The fight scenes weren't as interesting (I also felt like the author couldn't keep track of what had happened to the characters. There were a lot of chokings/head injuries that were completely "healed" 3 sentences later), I felt the stakes weren't as high, the villains not as compelling—the classic second book in a trilogy. Without the last reveal I'd give it 4 stars, but I'm really nervous about that which brought it down to 3.
4/5 I CAN'T BELIEVE HE ACCIDENTALLY BLUETOOTHED SUPERHERO PORN TO HIS DAD'S CAR
So the fact that Jenny is alive really disturbs me. With all the grief and the pain that both Nick and Aaron went through was for nothing. Because it was a cliffhanger reveal, we don't get to see any ramifications of this, but I really don't know how Klune can do this without making Jenny evil. There are very few things that are narratively unforgivable in my opinion, and because Nick and Aaron's grief was so central to the story, telling me now it was all for nothing is deeply unsettling.
I was hoping it was a secret uncle, like Jenny had a brother or something or my other guess was Officer Rookie.
I think the only way Jenny could be redeemed is if she was a clone or something. But there is absolutely no excuse for her to know about Nick and Aaron and stay away.
Her death is the reason Seth even wanted to use his extraordinary powers to be a superhero. Her death informs Nick's trauma and Aaron's career. Saying it was all for nothing is a huge slap in the face, and I'm honestly kind of mad about it.
On one hand, a dead parent or two is like the quintessential superhero backstory. So I don't mind playing with tropes as this book often does. But you can't change your mind after you established it unless you have a really good reason. And I'm worried whatever reason he gives won't be good enough.
Finally. Finally. Now this is what I want when I read a YA novel. The target audience is clearly teens and it's not pandering to middle-aged women. This book would have meant so much to me if I had been able to read it as a teen, and as it stands, I thoroughly enjoyed it as an adult. This book is so excruciatingly embarrassing, perfectly encapsulating the mortifying experience of puberty.
Nick, our main character, is riddled with ADHD, so endearingly earnest, the most popular fanfiction writer in his fandom, and is obsessed with superheroes. The only difference is that in Nick's world, superheroes are real, and they're called Extraordinaries. Nick would do anything to be extraordinary, including microwaving a cricket to... eat?
He has the queerest group of friends because Klune knows we stick together and form packs. Jazz and Gibby's relationship was so sweet and pure, and I identify so much with Jazz. I also recognize how much Klune has grown as a writer, because the women and their relationships have so much more care put into them. Also I think Klune has such an insight into the minds of Gen Z. It felt so real.
But in my opinion, the best relationship in the book is Nick relationship with his dad. Don't get me wrong, the puppy-love romance is tooth-rottingly sweet, but Aaron truly is a great father. Maybe it's just my daddy-issues talking, but the way Aaron is so involved in Nick's life from the in-depth safe sex talks that he had to do research to prepare for because Nick is gay. This man cares. He's also a cop. Now, ACAB but also I do appreciate that this is a part of the genre: vigilantes and cops are two sides of one messed-up American coin. So I get it and I do think the story handles this well.
Overall, this is exactly what I want from a YA novel. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, but to the teen characters it's just serious enough that the stakes are interesting. Even though I'm no longer a teen, I am so happy to have read this book.
I was extremely excited for the next installment of the High Republic. Leaving things from phase one on a cliffhanger was a... choice but I was excited to get to know and love some new characters.
That didn't happen. The book focuses solely on the villains arc to becoming the villain. Every character you could possibly want to get to know dies. The entire point of the story is reading about a cult. Marda subscribes fully to the cult, where her cousin Yana is a skeptic. Even when she's confronted with a brutal truth, she stays willfully ignorant. And yes, I get the whole terrifying thing about cults is how they can manipulate minds, but I guess I'll just say I wasn't convinced.
Marda and Kevmo's budding romance was cute and sweet at first but then started moving so fast. Both of them grew up in cultures that have very specific ideas about their futures, and their rejection of that didn't feel like a whirlwind teenage romance, but more of an insta-love scenario that had me rolling my eyes.
I was so excited for this one because Tessa Gratton is one of my all-time favorite authors, but this story was a let-down. I almost feel like it was non-essential. Sure, it gave a backstory to where Marchion Ro's lightsaber came from, but other than that it's basically just an extremely long-winded explanation of the villains' motivations.
Why do I keep doing this to myself? The answer is, I just check out stuff that's been on my TBR and is currently available at my branch of the library while I wait for the stuff I actually want to read to become available. (YA is surprisingly unpopular at libraries. Do y'all not go to the library??)
So, what infuriates me about most YA novels, is they have a great premise and terrible execution, which is once again my biggest issue with the novel. The problem is that standard fantasy novels have a long and varied introduction. It's the standard call to action. We grow with the main character, as they learn things about this fantasy world. This YA novel, like a vast majority of YA fantasy I've had the misfortune of reading, blasts through that.
Will has been on the run his whole life. He finds the Stewards, this magical society of old-timey knights. He becomes "one of them" but we don't get to really see it. As a result, when the entire civilization of Stewards is slaughtered, I didn't really feel anything. There's lots of references to Cyprian as "the last Steward" and imagery of him as representative of an entire culture lost... but I don't really feel anything about it because that culture wasn't really fleshed out. It felt like when in YA novels the parents are always on business trips or they're dead because the author needs an excuse as to why nobody cares that this teen is out until midnight on school nights and doing ungodly things with men that would be arrested for indecent contact with a minor in 5 minutes flat.
The only death that even made me pause for a moment was Justice, because he had a decent amount of screen-time and even then it wasn't much. We don't even know where he actually came from, or anything about him besides his mentorship with Violet. And even the extremely intriguing dynamic of him being a mentor-figure to Violet and also her biggest enemy if he ever found out her identity is shoved aside for some glossover infodump explanation of a culture that the author doesn't bother to fully flesh out because she's going to genocide it in the next chapter.
Here's the thing though, the ending? Fantastic. The twist? Didn't see it coming. Although I only picked it up because this book is labeled as LGBT+ on Storygraph, and there wasn't really any LGBT+ content the vibes in the last chapter were hella gay. I see the gay now. But I would not consider this to have any LGBT+ representation at this point.
I would say that this book suffers from Sarah J. Maas Syndrome the entire first novel is an unnecessary prequel. It either needed to be much longer or cut completely. Honestly the only reason this is even rated as high as it is, is because the last like 2 chapter captivated me. Will I read the sequel? Depends on a few things. If the gay is confirmed, I will probably read it. The other is if it's available at the library and nobody else is reading it lol.
This short little story is a gut-punch to the face. Please be wary of any triggers you may have before picking up this book or even continuing this review. We all know and trust Miller's interpretations of history and myth from her fantastic work on both Circe and The Song of Achilles.
Galatea is no exception. The fact that so much research had to be dedicated just to finding out the name 'Galatea' in the story of Pygmalion is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the brutal misogyny of this book.
Miller gives Galatea life, and illuminates the dark corners that stories like this pose. The idea of a man giving life to a statue seems fine on the surface, but when you take into the account Galatea's loss of agency, and Pygmalion's disgust with female identity, empowerment, and sexuality--the sweet story of love becomes a tale of horror, and that's what this is.
While I love Galatea's quiet snark, and I acknowledge that many women would find empowerment in Galatea's demise, but to me it was hollow and painful. Yes, she got to die on her own terms, but it was still unsatisfying. The entire short story I was feeling how I felt when my dad doesn't take me seriously, or my grandparents cherish their male grandchildren and ignore my sister and I. The dismissal of working in a female-dominated field. The rage, pain, and shame of a sexual assault. Her return to stone felt like a kick when you're already down.
It's hard to explain, but I don't want every feminist story to end in painful tragedy. It's not that I want to pretend that pain and tragedy never existed, especially for women, because I believe we all intimately know that would be a lie. But at the same time the message that women can only ever find solace in death is one that I deny with my whole heart. It gives Kate Chopin The Awakening vibes and while I acknowledge and respect this era in feminist history, I, personally am ready to move past it and embrace and cherish and love all that makes me a woman.
Seanan McGuire is always right. This book is a masterpiece.
This is the best first-contact novel I have ever read—including Strangers in a Strange Land—precisely because of it's scope and its confrontation of our deepest ignored fears. The people on earth are dealing with the brutal consequences of climate change. This is a post-apocalyptic novel unlike any other, and I could write essays on the set-up of this novel, the rest of the plot notwithstanding.
Emrys imagines a world where Nation-States are slow and clunky, and the corporations have been limited to the islands of Zealand where they can no longer do damage. The rest of the world is managed through the watersheds, a community based organizational system upheld by technology and algorithms. It's basically like a phone and reddit but implanted in your brain. All decisions about ecology are made as a community, with expertise given more weight.
This is also a world of post-gender ideology. People raise children in groups of four, usually two couples who join together to be a household. Judy, the main character, and her wife Carol have a daughter Dory, and they coparent with Atheo—a transman who escaped barbaric religious gender discrimination,—and Dinar, an amputee journalist from Zealand. They too have a toddler: Raven.
First of all, just the daily life of these people interacting with each other was so wholesome. It is exactly what I want from the universe. Sentences like "Carol and I still hadn't decided if we were going to be lovers with our co-parents" are possible.
So all this ecology and scifi and fascinating family dynamics are abruptly interrupted when aliens arrive! They are here to save humanity from our dying planet. Only problem? The watersheds aren't willing to give up the planet. The corporations are eager to leave the planet behind, and the Nation-States don't know what they think, but they'll probably get around to it in a month or two.
The beginning is the pivotal point of the novel, when an anomaly in the Chesapeake has Judy and Carol going to check it out in the middle of the night, bringing Dory with them. When they meet the aliens with Dory along for the ride, they spark an interplanetary negotiation about the future of their planet.
Someone blurbed this novel and compared Emrys to Ursula K. LeGuin and I think that couldn't be more correct. In this novel you get to witness two wives flirt outrageously with an alien and eventually have sexytimes with it. You get to witness how the corporate world has weaponized gender presentation, by making it a shifting game that changes with their subtle signals (honestly the most realistic thing about this besides the devastating climate change is the idea that capitalism will eventually ruin pronouns). Which means neopronouns. Lots of neopronouns. All while trying to learn the culture of two symbiotic alien races and at the same time arguing for the future of earth, without pissing of your wife, your alien boyfriend, or your coparents.
While I really loved the book and it's introspective nature and its inherently optimistic view of the world even in the midst of climate disaster, I found Judy to be optimistic to the point of naiveté. There are speeches that are a bit cringeworthy. Part of me wants to argue that in this future with this democratic view of conflict resolution, they are optimistic about the world. But while the watersheds argue so fiercely for the planet, I think the explorer in me wants to explore space. And the aliens have a really interesting philosophy: once any species is sufficiently technologically advanced, they can't live on a planet as they will inevitably destroy it. So they build systems of habitats in space. I don't know if I fully subscribe to that belief, but the same way Judy judges the aliens for "abandoning" their world, I also think Judy is too narrowminded in her thought processes. She refuses to entertain that humanity partially moving to space could be good for both humanity and the planet, and for that, I'm knocking off half a star.
4.5/5 poly trans-species found-family in space stars