Leamos

I do not understand the Twilight comparisons. I just don't see that they have anything beyond the incredibly superficial in common. This is slow, tense, smart, measured, lush... and it's not instalove: they've been falling in love for years through their psychic connection.

What I found most intriguing was the tension between the intimate and the societal, even familial. Their relationship has a sweet innocence to it that balances the intensity and depth. Their shared dedication to each other, and to a thoughtful morality, together with their consciousness is such a contrast with the violence, neglect and anger of the world that surrounds them. This tension is mirrored in the continual reminders of the tenuousness of Sam's humanity in the temperature readings in each section heading.

There was much to love here. I adore Stiefvater's lyrical prose.

I just was not pulled into the story in the way I wanted to be - I think I'm just not in the right headspace for YA romance. I've already started the next book, though.

I was surprised to be moved so much by this book, because the first book, apart from the Autistic POV (about which I had mixed feelings) was a fairly standard insta-lust mystery romance. I enjoyed it well enough to keep going with the series.

This one is anything but your standard romance. It shows instead the reality of what often follows insta-lust - how a relationship between two damaged people can make less of both of them no matter how powerful their love. It is ultimately a story about a reconciliation made possible by both parties doing their own inner work confronting their demons, owning their prior actions, and changing their attitudes and behaviours. Only then can they tentatively, vulnerably, come back to each other to put it all to work in developing a healthier relationship.

The flashbacks reflect with painful accuracy what a relationship with an alcoholic who has family trauma can be like, and how destructive it can be to both partners. Same with how much effort and dedication it takes to break such an addiction and begin to heal.

It's not a 5-star for me because of genre related reasons- the repetitiveness, the fawning, the stereotypical depiction of Scottish people, and the melodrama of the mystery/suspense subplot.

Ironically, those are among the elements that made the book light enough for me to be able to finish it and, to my surprise, enjoy it, even as I read through reflections of some of the most traumatic moments of my life. In turn, the very elements that were fully expected and made the book less appealing to me, actually made reading this book a healing experience for me.

This review is for the series as a whole. Although I rated the books individually, I'd give the series as a whole a higher rating - a full 4.5 - the whole is indeed greater than the sum of its parts.

How incredibly refreshing to read a whole romance series of interconnected stand-alones where each of the books has a distinct feel and somewhat unique trajectory (especially the last one which had me laughing at the meta moment near the end).

Even more refreshing was to have the stories centered around a family so like my own - fun, loving, raucous, super-close, all mixed up in each other's lives, and incredibly supportive. I wanted more of the Alba parents on the page!

Also refreshing was that every one of these books is sex-positive. No angst about bodies or acts, no recalcitrant virgins, nobody convincing or coaxing, no shame/shaming... Just wholly enthusiastic consent and a whole lot of joy.

The overall tone is light and leans towards the comedic and the scenic. There are some dark moments (especially in the 2nd book) which are taken seriously and overcome without languishing. The challenges faced by each couple are very different, as are their ways of resolving them. I appreciate the compassion with which the author approaches them all.

The characters are really well fleshed out and all the protagonists are very loveable and fallible humans. Each book focuses tightly on the couples, with the family as a whole and the protagonists from the other books featuring in beautiful ways that make sense within the story of each couple. The banter is fantastic, too.

The author's love of the city of Benidorm comes through in every page, and even if it sometimes reads a little like a tourist guide, it grounds the stories in a really cool way. The place itself is a huge influence on the plots, the characters, and obviously the ambiance.

I would've liked to write the review in Spanish, especially since there are currently no English translations of the book, but sadly that's beyond me at the moment.

Los Nefilim is an omnibus consisting of three novellas (“In Midnight’s Silence,” “Without Light or Guide,” and “The Second Death”) which flow together to create the experience of reading one novel. They are often listed separately as parts 0.1 - 0.3 of the series. They take place before the three further novels in the series: "Where Oblivion Lives", "Carved from Stone and Dream", and "A Song with Teeth".

I loved:

• the magic system based on chromesthesia - a combination of light, music and colour - and dance
• the depiction of a long-married gay couple with a healthy relationship
• the deep friendship and trust
• characters who are reflective as well as honest with themselves and their loved ones
• the truth and clarity of the child's point of view
• the clarity and compassion with which the rape of a man by a woman via enchantment is accepted by others as a traumatic event, even as he works through his own denial.
• the ease and fluidity with which the child who was a product of said rape becomes the center of their family

Beneath the suspenseful and compelling plot, this is a story about the intense complexity of relationships, power dynamics, redemption and loyalty. Frohock's prose is lyrical as always, conjuring a gritty world where nefilim, angels and daimons are rigidly classified by their lineage. Our protagonsists each challenge this imposed order by their existence, their relationships, and/or their morality. Through their eyes and experiences, Frohock lightly and deftly explores exclusion and belonging in various ways which only add to the plot and pacing.

What I loved most about this book were the scenes that took place in Mexico City and the village - such a beautifully rendered depiction of Mexico in the 1950's that really contradicts so many stereotypes. The author says she took inspiration from her family - I see elements of my own family reflected as well. I especially loved the respectful relationship that existed between the healer and the doctor, and their hospitality towards Noemí. It may have been off-page and barely there, and yet it felt like an important distinction between the British mining family and the Mexicans they saw as disposable. It's these kinds of details that give stories impact, and this book was full of them.

I very much appreciate the way the author dropped in the little bits of knowledge that Noemí had picked up from her many varied experiences and studies (and that they were accurate for a woman of her time and place) - it served as a needed reminder of the astuteness that accompanied her penchant for pretty shoes. The social commentary is clear and sharp.

I think I would have been more drawn in by the mystery if I hadn't read or watched The Girl With All the Gifts and Get Out, if I were less informed about mold/mycotoxins, or hadn't developed a mild interest in mycelial connections in the last few years. As it was, I caught on very early on to what otherwise would have probably been a subtle and appropriate detail of gothic atmosphere, and I was unable to just get lost in the story as I so badly wanted to. Instead of feeling tension as things came to a head, I found myself bored and just wanting to get through it.

I've seen this categorized as gothic horror and gothic romance. I would put it firmly in horror - the romance elements are minimal. I did find the graphic descriptions of body horror and attempted rape to be rather sudden and unexpected.

Talk about slow burn... nearly gave up when by the end of chapter 4 we were still in modern-day Madrid, and other than the one scene in the bookstore, nothing at all had happened. Glad I didn't. The author (both in this and the other historical novel of hers I've read) does tend towards over-explaining, with very long, detailed, unnecessary detail, and quite a bit of repetitive inner dialogue. And yet, she draws me in with her characterization and the complexity of the relationships she creates.

This is pretty much book 1 plus some extras from Reyes' POV. It is totally readable after book 1 without any major spoilers, and after the first few chapters of book 3 with none at all.

In some ways, I wish I had read parts of this novella before the first book, because it shifted a lot for me, and I wish I'd read the whole thing at any point between books 3 and 6 for two main reasons. First, I think I would find Charley's antics in books 6-8 more tolerable if I'd seen her through his eyes first.

Second, we also get full clarification of what was implied in the first couple of books re: consent being mutual. It is very common in UF for the characters to be overtaken by supernaturally driven sexual impulses that override conscious decision making, leading to what can be experienced by readers as dubious consent. I assumed that was the case here, and I guess it kind of is, but it's also not, and I wonder if we're going to get a peek at those first encounters through her eyes again now that she knows her true name and has access to more memories (or rather will again when she recovers from the end of book 8). Either way, it was nice to see it laid out clearly that Charley was more than an active and enthusiastic participant, actually taking the lead in their first encounters - a fact of which she is not consciously aware as she narrates them thus far in the series.

This story is listed as book 1.5 in many places. It actually takes place after book 3. There are no major spoilers, but the sub-plot of the story will not make sense without having read books 2 and 3.

I always enjoy seeing first-person MC's through another's eyes, and I appreciate the level of skill to change the voice so completely without losing the tone of the series.

Some of my least favourite romance tropes, plus misrepresentation of dissociative disorders. I skimmed much of the second half of the book.

Skittish virgin overtaken by insta-lust for stalker. Mutual and self-deception, self-deprecation, self-sacrifice and, of course, fixing, ensue.

content warning for questionable consent

The slow revelation of secrets, conspiracies, actors, events, and the way they intertwine was divine. The secrets themselves are melodrama soapy type stuff. The mystery itself, and the depictions of the (not sure how accurate because it's not my area of expertise) methods of investigation, fashion, and societal relations were quite engaging.

Opening: "Either everything matters, or everything is an outrageous waste of time. That’s what she would have said, if anyone had asked her. But no one asks crazy old ladies for their opinions."

This is a book about what matters and what doesn't, what's temporary and what's eternal, what it means to live, and how joy and sorrow juxtapose with purpose and expectation.

But more than anything, it's a book about the importance of the story itself.

What's impressive is how Dr. Horn explores all of that without the story ever feeling weighed down by the existential themes or the 2000 years of history. For the most part, the book feels light, fitting well into magical realism and/or fantasy genres.

This is an unapologetically Jewish book told from the perspective of a character whose Jewishness is so old and so engrained it doesn't seem to register for her unless there is an active persecution of Jews happening - she seems far more concerned with familial relationships, her relationship with her eternal partner, the impact of her gender on her experiences, and how all of these change and don't change over the millennia.

The book is filled with references to Jewish culture, scripture, writings, and history, none of which are made explicit in any way. All the important characters are Jewish, very well fleshed out, very obviously flawed, and they reflect certain elements of global and historical Jewish communities. The story itself follows a Jewish narrative pattern to the point thatthe ending itself is not an ending, as Rachel and Elazar so often say through the book - there are no endings, only more beginnings.

I found this all very refreshing, and I find myself wondering if it might be challenging to connect with the story, and even with Rachel herself, if the reader is unfamiliar with Jewish culture and history.

I rather enjoyed the re-imagining of Rabbi Yochanan's parentage and lifetime, and I absolutely loved the idea of the son of the High Priest becoming his own son's youngest student. It just felt so very poignant, fit so beautifully with the whole exploration of parenthood as sacrifice, and brought the story full circle in various ways.

Overall, this is a gorgeous, imperfect, and too short book about a gorgeous, imperfect, and too long life.

I feel compelled to write a review for this one because my response is complicated.

The Four Weddings and a Funeral structure was cute, but distracted from the relationship development, which is what I wanted to read about. It's a structure that works well for an initial romance, rather than the development of a complex relationship between two people who both have big huge issues.

I don't know whether it says more about me, Alexis Hall, or what, that I found the most engaging and satisfying section of the book to be the funeral, and I think that might just be because it was the only section of the book where Luc actually focused on Oliver. So much of the rest of the book was very angsty, which, unless they're working through it, as Luc did in the first book, is not something I enjoy in my MCs in first person narratives.

The humour, the banter, the irreverence were all there. The secondary characters were fabulous - I adore the quirky wisdom of Luc's mom, the ott and more mature best-friending, the co-workers...

The thing is that through each wedding, Luc's pov grated even more, as did his absolute certainty that the vast majority of the conflict was "Oliver problems, not me problems," which felt deliberately delusional. It felt like all the character development took place in the last bit of the book, and it took place far too quickly for me to be convinced, especially since there seemed to be so little in the two years between the last book and this one.

What saved the book for me was the actual ending - it brought together what I felt were the themes that kind of popped up throughout the book but I couldn't really see through all the angst. And they are themes I absolutely love: Self-differentiation, self-exploration, authenticity...

And SPOILER now:

I just really really wish there had been more exploration of alternatives to weddings/marriage than the brief conversations with Pryia and her partners, the mother, and the very last couple of pages. I also wish there was more room for Lucien to face that the "Oliver problems, not me problems" were actually his own damned problems all along. If it had, this book could have been a brilliant satire about heteronormativity and convention. The entire discussion over the rainbow arch could have become a truly enlightening exploration on the conventions of the performance of queerness.

I do however, love that they walked out on their own wedding. Like, really really love it.

I was overjoyed to read a book that ends with a clear hea that doesn't require a formal commitment ceremony - this is something that is very counter-genre, and unlike many readers who freaked out about it, I am so very much here for the subversion.

So yeah... complicated response to this one.