Anna Fox lives alone, a recluse in her New York City home, unable to venture outside. She spends her day drinking wine (maybe too much), watching old movies, recalling happier times . . . and spying on her neighbors.
Then the Russells move into the house across the way: a father, a mother and their teenage son. The perfect family. But when Anna, gazing out her window one night, sees something she shouldn’t, her world begins to crumble and its shocking secrets are laid bare.
What is real? What is imagined? Who is in danger? Who is in control? In this diabolically gripping thriller, no one—and nothing—is what it seems.
As I reflect on my recent read of The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn, I find myself struggling to reconcile the hype with the reality of the book. While there were aspects of the story that I found intriguing, overall, I was left feeling underwhelmed and disappointed.
One of the biggest issues I had with the book was the protagonist, Anna Fox. While I appreciated the author’s attempt to create a flawed and complex character, I found Anna’s behavior to be frustrating and unrelatable. As a reader, I had a difficult time empathizing with her and connecting with the story on an emotional level.
The plot of the book, while interesting in theory, fell short in execution. The twists and turns felt predictable, and the ending left me feeling unsatisfied. While there were moments of tension and suspense, they were overshadowed by the slow pacing and excessive descriptions of Anna’s surroundings.
In terms of writing style, I found the book to be overly verbose and unnecessarily complex. The author seemed to rely heavily on metaphors and similes, often at the expense of clarity and coherence. While some readers may appreciate this style of writing, it did not work for me and detracted from my enjoyment of the story. Another issue with the book was its pacing. The story progressed at a slow and painful pace, with excessive descriptions of Anna’s surroundings and internal thoughts. While I appreciate the attempt at building suspense, the slow pacing left me feeling bored and disengaged.
The twists in the book were highly predictable and felt tired. It felt like the author was trying to add shock value to the story by throwing in twists at predictable points, but it ultimately fell flat. The ending, in particular, felt rushed and unsatisfying. In fact, I was able to predict the timing of nearly every twist in the book, using standard plotting formulae like Save the Cat. Disappointing to realize a book that relies on unexpected twists was actually highly predictable!
Lastly, I was disappointed by the inaccuracies and inconsistencies in the book. As someone who values accuracy and attention to detail, I found myself pulled out of the story by the numerous errors and oversights.
Overall, while The Woman in the Window had potential, it ultimately fell short for me. I appreciate the attempt at creating a complex and layered story, but the execution left something to be desired. While I wouldn’t discourage others from reading it (actually no, I would), I also wouldn’t recommend it as a must-read.
⭐
Rating: 1 out of 5.
Have you read this book? Do you agree or disagree with my thoughts?
Involuntary or forced magical transformations toe the line between horror, humor, and fantasy depending on the author’s slant. Here are 6 novels or short stories that explore the concept of forced metamorphosis from the perspective of the main character, spanning the genres of children’s fantasy, to horror, to classical literature. I bet you’ll find some new ones to you, I certainly added a few to my TBR!
As her younger sisters set out to seek their fortunes, Sophie stayed in her father’s hat shop. Which proved most unadventurous, until the Witch of the Waste came in to buy a bonnet, but was not pleased. Which is why she turned Sophie into an old lady. Which was spiteful witchery.
Excerpt from book summary
This is a classic fantasy children’s novel that turns a lot of fairytale and fantasy tropes neatly on their heads. Dianna Wynne Jones is always a solid pick for a story that is fun, adventurous, and also addresses deeper themes and problems. Her characters are witty and enjoyable, her imagination and turn for the whimsy guaranteed to transport you into a new land.
The fundamental metamorphosis happens very early in this book when Sophie is unfairly turned into an old woman! She must adventure and quest in her new guise, find her courage, and discover who she really is outside of others expectations. Along the way, she becomes the heroine she had resigned herself to never be.
This is one example of an involuntary metamorphosis that ends up teaching the main character about themselves. Also, I love that it features Sophie-as-an-old-woman as the main character the entire way through. Old women in fantasy are usually evil, extremely minor, or nonexistent. I love that Jones neatly turns the adventuring and beautiful princess trope right on its head with Sophie, a very ordinary girl who is extraordinary only because she is now an old woman. At least, that’s how it starts!
Abandoned by her parents, and then apprenticed to a witch, Mira is captivated by the other young apprentice, who adopts her as a sister. Mira would do anything for this beautiful girl- and that’s just what her sister bargains for. With the utterance of a simple spell, Mira’s body is turned to wood, her face to glass. Her only power is the magic her sister gives her, the power to make her sister a queen.
Excerpt from book summary
Here’s a book I rarely see mentioned — indeed, despite its number of reviews on Goodreads, it appeared on none of the lists I saw around the internet for books with metamorphoses. The key metamorphosis here happens before the story really starts, when Mira is tricked by her supposedly loving sister and magically transformed into a magic mirror. But the real story is what happens when the sister goes away, and Mira, still in mirror form, is left alone … until years later, she is found by an unwitting peasant girl, and now is in the position to be the manipulator, rather than the victim.
Mira, Mirror is a brilliant and captivating fairytale retelling where the villain starts out the victim, but as the years pass … something changes. It is a tale of an evil sister and a good sister turned on its head, a magic mirror story where the mirror is the main character, the villain, and the protagonist. It’s a story where the youth-craving old woman is also a young woman, who has been denied her own youth and slowly turned to bitterness. It’s a fairytale story of what happens after the fairytale, a story of redeemable evil, and breaking cycles of misfortune.
I read this book perhaps fifteen years ago, and I still remember key scenes, and descriptions. Harrison paints a captivating setting with magic and magical consequences, and has a highly complex character in Mira, simultaneously the villain and protagonist of the story. If you haven’t read this one, I highly encourage you to give it a chance!
It is the story of a young man who, transformed overnight into a giant beetle-like insect, becomes an object of disgrace to his family, an outsider in his own home, a quintessentially alienated man.
excerpt from Book summary
Kafka needs little introduction, as one of the best-known writers of his time. A philosopher, and a very intense but also very weird writer, The Metamorphosis is probably one of his strangest but also most famous works. The metamorphosis in the title occurs in the very first few words of the book where a very ordinary and medicore man, Gregor, wakes up one day to find he is a giant cockroach. But nothing else in the world has changed. He still has a job. He still had a family to provide for. But now, he is literally an insect. What would you do?
Kafka is one of those hit-or-miss authors. I will be perfectly honest and say that, in general, he’s not my cup of tea. Kafka tends to be philosophical (not me), depressing (not me), and spends little time on the emotion of “wonder”, preferring to examine “despondency” (again, not me). Fortunately, his works are short, and at least they have some fantastical and weird imagery, which I enjoy. Do I relate to his main characters? Frankly, no.
But that doesn’t mean this book is not worth reading. Its goal is to explore a part of the human psyche that I, personally, have very little interest in interrogating. However, it is a classic of the genre, and even if you are as literal-minded as me, it’s a weird and bizarre story with some fantastic implications and possibilities. If you’re into the philosophy behind it, I’m sure you will find that enjoyable and enlightening as well.
It is a sunny summer Sunday in a remote Swiss village, and a christening is being celebrated at a lovely old farmhouse. One of the guests notes an anomaly in the fabric of the venerable edifice: a blackened post that has been carefully built into a trim new window frame. Thereby hangs a tale, one that, as the wise old grandfather who has lived all his life in the house proceeds to tell it, takes one chilling turn after another, while his audience listens in appalled silence.
Featuring a cruelly overbearing lord of the manor and the oppressed villagers who must render him service, an irreverent young woman who will stop at nothing, a mysterious stranger with a red beard and a green hat, and, last but not least, the black spider, the tale is as riveting and appalling today as when Jeremias Gotthelf set it down more than a hundred years ago.
The Black Spider can be seen as a parable of evil in the heart or of evil at large in society (Thomas Mann saw it as foretelling the advent of Nazism), or as a vision, anticipating H. P. Lovecraft, of cosmic horror. There’s no question, in any case, that it is unforgettably creepy.
Book summary
Here’s a book I’ve never read, but I am extremely intrigued by the summary. It’s a classic book that appears to explore a deal-with-the-devil gone wrong, a story of human hubris and the ins-and-outs of a small community. It’s going on my TBR for one of those times when I feel the mood take me to read something unfortunate and horror-related. I also wonder whether this story resembles the story of Arachne, also a female-centric hubris-downfall type story from a different culture.
Prized through the ages for its splendor and its savage, sophisticated wit, The Metamorphoses is a masterpiece of Western culture–the first attempt to link all the Greek myths, before and after Homer, in a cohesive whole, to the Roman myths of Ovid’s day.
Horace Gregory, in this modern translation, turns his poetic gifts toward a deft reconstruction of Ovid’s ancient themes, using contemporary idiom to bring today’s reader all the ageless drama and psychological truths vividly intact.
Book summary
Curious about the story of Arachne, mentioned above? (Yes! A perfect transition. Go me.) Well you’re in luck. Ovid has you covered, along with perhaps more than 250 others. Here’s a classic that handles involuntary metamorphosis for many characters, from many perspectives, and ties them beautifully up together in a book that is a long, slow, poetic metamorphosis of itself. Ovid uses poetry and narrative structure to tie together multiple myths in this 15-“book” masterpiece that is still surprisingly readable and enjoyable today (in translation of course — unless you know Latin).
Ovid turns to epic poetry, as did Homer, in his retellings and re-tyings, as I feel they should be called, starting with a beautiful line:
Of bodies chang’d to various forms, I sing
Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book the First
And sing he does, of Ancient Greek myths told again through a poetic Roman lens, but with wit and humor and a narrative goal of his own. I think it is absolutely fascinating to look back on what an ancient culture to us (Romans) thought of an ancient culture to them (Ancient Greek). The only negative I can state is that, like many well-known classics, there are approximately a million translations and no clear way to distinguish which you’d like best without trying a few. Searching online yields only passionate arguments in favor and against each and every one of them. But if you DO have a favorite, list it below!
The Dragon Hoard by Tanith Lee
Genre: Fantasy, comic fantasy, children’s/YA Goodreads link
It never pays to flout enchantresses, even unwittingly, as poor King Minus discovered when he forgot to ask his aunt (or cousin) Maligna to the birthday feast for Prince Jasleth and Princess Goodness. She came all the same, bringing such nasty gifts that Princess Goodness was reduced to total silliness, the kingdom to near beggary, and Prince Jasleth found himself dispatched to seek his fortune despite an embarrassing habit of changing into a raven unexpectedly for an hour each day.
How Jasleth managed to join Prince Fearless and his hundred rowers in their quest for the Dragon Hoard, how Maligna pursued them with many a fiendish wile, how the questors met an alarming assortment of her repulsive friends and wicked acquaintances (and some more foolish than wicked like the ten-foot mermaid queen, Emeraldis), how at every step doom was narrowly averted, and how a happy ending (naturally) wound it all up, makes this helter-skelter romantic adventure story at once richly comic and most amazingly and agreeably inventive.
Book summary
Tanith Lee is a giant in the world of fantasy literature. My very first book that I read by her was The Birthgrave, an extremely weird, creepy, but also incredible inversion of High Fantasy. So when I came across The Dragon Hoard, I was very surprised to read that it was comic fantasy. And her first book!
This is another TBR pick from me. Tanith Lee has so many bylines to her name, and it would be extremely interesting to go back to where it all began, with her very first book. Plus, it just sounds like fun! I love the idea of the main character undergoing metamorphosis into a raven once per day — but he doesn’t know when it will happen, each day. It sounds like a fun comic take on common fairy tale tropes, and a short and sweet ending to this post. Have you read it? What are your thoughts?
Are there any other literary metamorphoses that I’ve missed? Add them in a comment below! Or comment which of these books is going on your TBR!
Sometimes, life can be excessively serious. Jobs, taxes (ugh), planning what to eat for dinner every. single. evening. Sometimes, you just need a break. And today being #ThrowBackThursday, there couldn’t be a better opportunity to skip down memory lane and revisit some of my favorite blast-from-the-past laughs.
The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett
In this Discworld-themed, hilarious, and unexpectedly moving re-imagining of the Pied Piper fairy tale, Terry Pratchett asks: if mice and cats were magically intelligent, how would they rewrite the Pied Piper to their own benefit?
Capitalism meets rodent culture as in this retelling, where it’s the mice who are in charge. Well, really, the cat Maurice. Of course. Yes, there are humans too, but the main stars of the show here are our con artist little furry friends. The novel features memorable characters like Beans, a wise little mouse, Malicia, a human girl who always finds herself in trouble, and of course, the ever-suffering Maurice, responsible for herding his charges like … well, like cats.
It’s a quick, fun, and animal-themed ride with some serious moments along the way, but Terry Pratchett always mixes humor and social commentary in the best of ways. It is also a standalone!
The Phantom Tollbooth is a classic American children’s novel, and just a few pages in it is easy to see why.
This kid’s book is a entertaining, hilarious, and honestly very informative ride through the world of imagination and wordplay. Featuring hilarious literal-isms like the “Island of Conclusions” (how to get there? Why, you jump, of course!), a meal of “Half-baked ideas”, a number wizard, and a great quest to rescue the Princesses of Rhyme and Reason, this lovely book encourages the child in all of us to go out, explore, and experience the wonder of words.
This is a wonderful option as well to read to a child, or read with a child, as it is fun for both the adult and kid. The sketches are so fun, and every time you think you’ve reached the end of the author’s puns and play-on-words, you discover another. A timeless classic for all ages, and a rollicking good read as well!
The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
Genre: Alternate history fantasy, portal fantasy, YA/adult
The Eyre Affair is the first book in a amusing self-referential series that features time travel, book travel, and a very funny alternate history setting where the lines between fiction and reality blur … literally.
Literature is very serious business in this setting of a magical 1980s Great Britain, requiring an entire police department of their own, close observation, and careful monitoring. Time travel is commonplace in this world, as is cloning, and books coming alive. Too alive. So alive, that they can be killed.
Our guide through this very, very serious world is a woman named Thursday Next, who ends up entangled in a desperate race-against-time (and story) when Acheron Hades (the 3rd most wanted man in the world) demonstrates his ability to enter a book and actually kill a minor character, who then disappears forever. And his next target? The beloved Jane Eyre. Thursday must use all her knowledge and power as a literary detective to save Jane and the future (and past) of story.
This is a hilariously fun and imaginative ode to literature and those who love it. Book-lovers will see themselves reflected in this maybe ideal? world of literary love. And if you like it? There’s a whole series to dive into.
Sometimes, you just need to a satirical, nonsensical romp through Old Timey England, with silly main characters who make bad decisions after bad decisions, and a dog who is clearly the intellectual genius of the group. That’s Three Men in a Boat to a T.
As a classic novel, the style can be a bit dry, but I find that just enhances the satirical tone and wry humor of this book. We meet our three friends, city boys who are very confident in their own abilities, yet hilariously incapable of common sense. Three friends (and dog) decide to go on a boating trip. What could go wrong?
Turns out, rather a lot. As a very city-centric non-camping no-nature type myself, I was slightly embarrassed at how I related more than I liked to some of these hilarious and clueless men in their efforts to: paddle in the correct direction. Heat up tea on a camp stove. Consistently direct their extremely tiny boat in the very placid environment of the well-traversed Thames. You know nothing too bad is going to happen, so you can sit back and enjoy the ridiculousness.
This is one of those where the style may be a bit polarizing, but personally I enjoyed the side tangents and reminisces, the totally non-self-aware main characters, and the exuberant spirit of their very small dog.
I read very little memoir, indeed very little nonfiction overall, but anything Gerald Durrell has written I’m reading. This is a fond remembrance and humorous account of the British author’s childhood growing up in unexpected far-off locations, discovering and exploring nature, with a background of a wholesome but undoubtedly eccentric family.
The author is a naturalist and conservationist, and his love and respect for nature glows through the entire book, and indeed in all his writing. In his love for nature is also an enjoyment of the simple pleasures of a quirky goose, the determined progress of a snail, the feel of ocean-water, and the taste of sandwiches after a long day in the hot sun. As you read this book, you really feel that love and joy in family and nature, and fond teasing between siblings. Durrell has a very particular and humorous writing style that brings life to every tiny recollection, a descriptive silliness that surprises you and makes you laugh with him.
This is perhaps my favorite memoir and absolutely one which I have read over and over. It’s a great book for older kids as well, and for reading together. I absolutely recommend you check it out if you haven’t before!
Personally, I adore lighthearted books. I love the guaranteed laughs, the free-spirited nature, the pure enjoyment that is fully aware that books are entertainment, and they’re allowed to be silly! These are a few of my all-time favorite silly books, across genres, which I can guarantee will have at least one line that will make you actually laugh out loud.
I know there’s so many more out there, please list your favorites below!
As an avid (if erratic) sewer, and frequent enjoyer of competition reality television shows, I have been consuming all of Netflix’s Next In Fashion series, gleefully commenting to my empty apartment what I would have done, and which outfit I think was truly the winner. I deeply enjoyed the new, fun, diverse styles of the designers and especially the frantic yet exciting ways they met the (honestly, very random) challenge themes. And so, I have a proposal, dear Netflix Next In Fashion judges, for a new theme for the next season (please let there be another season … ):
Next in Fantasy Fashion: Fashion inspired by Fantasy Book Covers.
Now, you may be thinking of ballgowns of some popular YA book covers, or maybe the black cloaks and bodysuits of some badass assassin books, but no. No I am not, dear Reader. This weekend, I visited one of my favorite used bookstores, and found a literal treasure-trove. Not just of books, but of inspiration. I am thinking of THIS:
The Riddle-Master of Hed by Patricia A. McKillip
Now, no shame to the author — this is, in fact, a brilliant and deeply moving book. Patricia McKillip has a lyrical way with words that transcends time, I cannot think of a single book of hers that did not deeply affect me. She handles serious themes, beautiful imagery, and deep relationships between a human and their destiny with grace and concise yet poetic language.
In fact, no shame to the book cover artist either. The artist here has created a work that ALSO transcends time. Indeed it will never be forgotten. I hope. Because LOOK AT IT.
The forehead gemstones. The HAIRCUT. The SLEEVES. The boot feather/fans. The incredible choice of colors. The over-sized collar. I’d like to see how Gigi Hadid would sell this on the runway. I’d like to see a designer try to justify to a perplexed judge that yes, we really DO need weird deflated-balloon purple sleeves with wavy slashes, and YES the boot feathers are ESSENTIAL to my vision. Next in fashion? How about FOREVER in fashion, as in, the viewer will forever have this image burned into their retinas. They will see it in their nightmares. Fashion critics will throw in the towel entirely, for how can anyone compete after THAT walks into Paris Fashion Week?
So yes, this is my humble suggestion, Netflix. I know you’re listening. Please please, let the next season feature a Next In Fantasy Fashion runway. Perhaps have the designers pick a 1970s fantasy book out of a lineup, blindfolded, for their inspiration. Support your local used book stores AND get inspired to turn the fashion industry into a Lovecraftian nightmare from which none can escape! Two birds, one boot!
Comment below if you support my cause. It’s time more than just fantasy nerds knew about the incredible treasure trove of 1970s book covers, and their crimes against sanity.
Dune Messiah continues the story of Paul Atreides, better known–and feared–as the man christened Muad’Dib. As Emperor of the Known Universe, he possesses more power than a single man was ever meant to wield. Worshipped as a religious icon by the fanatical Fremens, Paul faces the enmity of the political houses he displaced when he assumed the throne–and a conspiracy conducted within his own sphere of influence.
And even as House Atreides begins to crumble around him from the machinations of his enemies, the true threat to Paul comes to his lover, Chani, and the unborn heir to his family’s dynasty…
Dune series #2
Dune Messiah is a strange book.
Like most people, the first time I read it, I was slightly annoyed. Why take the triumphant hero Paul-Muad’dib, who had succeeded against all odds in the previous book, and systematically grind him into the rubble? Why show us a Paul trapped by his own mythos, a Paul who has become the thing he hates, and expect us to enjoy it?
But Dune is an odd series. Five years ago, I was annoyed with Herbert’s seeming self-destruction of the lessons of Dune’s first installment by the second. I spent several years telling everyone I knew that I considered Dune to be a 1-book series, that Dune Messiah and Children of Dune didn’t exist to me. What kind of drugs was Frank Herbert on, I wondered aloud to friends and family who could not care less about scifi novels or their analysis. My poor, very patient, very tolerant friends and family.
Over the years I’ve reread Dune many times, but never bothered to continue on to Dune Messiah, nor Children of Dune. Slowly my understanding of the series–and Herbert’s real message–started to change. Was it maturity? Cynicism? Or constant rereading of the same text in which Herbert had so cleverly embedded his seemingly self-seditious ideas?
Much of the science fiction and fantasy canon is centered around heroes: Frodo, Rand al’Thor (ugh), Luke Skywalker, etc. Heroes overcome seemingly-impossible obstacles through self-growth and sacrifice to triumph over evil and save the world. Or the galaxy. In the process, they learn something key about themselves. The real heroes were the friends we made along the way! The book ends with a return to home, the hero forever changed by their experience. The End.
Dune, the first book, very much seems to follow this pattern. And it must. Because Herbert’s real focus is on showing us not how amazing and great heroes are, and how we can all be one if we try, but perhaps the opposite. Heroes–messiahs–Chosen Ones–by their very nature, Herbert shows us, they bring doom and downfall to society.
Paul never wanted to lead the movement. He didn’t want to be Emperor. He finds himself forced on a path where survival and godhood are braided into one. In Dune, 15 year old Paul and his mother capitalize on the myth of the Mahdi to find a place with the Fremen when they would otherwise be killed for their water. Jessica–and Paul–ruthlessly exploit the mythos of Fremen dreams to not only stay alive, but to ensure their future survival–and success–on Arrakis.
With the weapon of their training in ruling–distinct from leadership, as Stilgar demonstrates–Paul and Jessica survive.
Dune Messiah shows us the consequences of that survival. Assaults on other planets–Fremen witnessing their dream take shape, and sickening of it–destructive religious fervor under the Atreides banner. Paul and Alia becoming more-than-human, and in the process losing themselves. Because of the prescience, they know how this came about–they can see the threads of their own maneuvering and are untouched by any delusion of true grandeur. Maybe that is what sets Paul aside from other hero figures in SFF. That cynicism born of knowing none of this is real.
And with power, come new enemies. Perhaps the worst of these are the enemies Paul has created himself–his Qizarate, and their reinforcement of the mythos that fuels the jihad, and traps Paul in his own worst nightmare. He cannot escape it.
“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”
REVEREND MOTHER GAIUS HELEN MOHIAM, DUNE
Paul is both the animal in the trap, and the trapper. His survival–an animal instinct–is responsible for the jihad. He himself is the greatest threat to his kind. And he knows this, even in Dune. By Dune Messiah, it is too late. The myth is firmly established, and lives outside him. Whatever happens to Paul, the threat remains.
Strange how he ends up having the same goals as that of his offworld enemies–discreditation of himself, and his religious power. But would that truly solve his problems? Or would that merely leave a power vacuum to be filled by another?
For most of Dune and Dune Messiah, Paul is hyper-analytic. He is incredibly reliant on his prescience and makes decisions based on a zoomed-out view of his life and choices. He is, somehow, not really an individual.
I think in Dune Messiah, we see a Paul saturated by his own myth, reduced to a legend with little independence from the future. He may have had hope to avert the jihad in Dune. He may have forseen its destruction, but that was still to come. In Dune Messiah, Paul has lived the nightmare. Yes, he has survived–but at what cost?
Fascinating that the requirement for Paul’s survival is to convince numerous others that theirs is inconsequential, that by yielding their life to him they achieve a higher purpose. But what is Paul and Jessica’s higher purpose in Dune?
Their own survival.
In Dune Messiah, it is too late. It cannot be undone. And there are hints of more dangerous threats.
And yet, in this book of cages, we see a Paul that now turns that hyper-analysis not to the goal of achieving an optimal future, or to beat fate at its own game. He knows that is impossible–the years between Dune and Dune Messiah have shown him that.
All of his actions in Dune Messiah have only one, incredibly minor yet profound goal. He wants to extend Chani’s life. He wants her to have what she wants: a child. And he wants to spare her the worst that the future might offer.
Paul’s own survival no longer matters.
Dune Messiah cannot be read as a novel on its own, but as the natural second part to Dune, the first book. On its own, it has numerous flaws, as I would list bitterly five years ago. But taking Herbert’s overall message into focus, I can see how Dune Messiah is necessary. Herbert shows us the rise of a traditional hero in Dune. He must then show us the consequences of putting one person’s life and survival above others: Dune Messiah.
It may not be as attractive a message or entertaining a book, but it is necessary.
Let me start by saying I am not a frequent reader of contemporary literature. I need escapism in the extreme–other worlds, other universes, magic, quests, doom! Modern-day real life stories, where everyone goes to yoga class and owns a cellphone, are not my cup of tea.
Neither am I a frequent reader of domestic dramas. I like my antagonists to be Sauron-esque, impossible, magical, world-shaking. Social dramas are not really my thing. I want the world to be ending and our characters scaling Mount Doom, as giant armies clash and monsters rise from the earth.
So I really, really expected to dislike this book.
Holy hell, did I eat my words.
The Last Mrs. Parrish is a story that starts out from the point of view of a con artist, Amber, who wants to climb her way into the enviable position of wife to the rich and handsome Jackson Parrish. Only there’s one big obstacle in the way: Daphne Parrish, his wife.
And so, Amber embarks on a quest to insinuate herself within the family, manipulate the sweet and trusting Daphne into being her best friend, all the while working her way closer, and closer, to the real object: Jackson. Jackson, who starts off entirely unaware of Amber, his wife’s new friend, but as time and Amber’s plans progress … maybe that will change.
So far, it’s an interesting, but not particularly exciting drama. Sure, watching Amber scheme and manipulate her way into a trusting, naive family’s inner circle has a certain trainwreck-like fascination to it. I was feeling quite frustrated with the other adults in the story however–how can they be so naive? Trust no one! That’s my motto.
Then, the author changed the narrative.
From a surface-level drama about a scheming con artist and naive rich family, we descend into the true story.
And it’s nothing like what I expected.
Suddenly, I went from composing a 3-star review in my head to gripping my seat, unable to stop listening, needing to hear the next reveal. Innocent scenes suddenly showed a dark side. The manipulator becomes the manipulated. And no one–not even the children–are truly so trusting and naive …
From daytime TV drama to Game of Thrones-esque intrigue, The Last Mrs. Parrish is a book that shows you both sides of the coin–for the same story. Masterfully written, with a plot that moves like an oiled machine from one scene to the next, Constantine keeps you guessing and questioning right till the end.
It’s a book I couldn’t stop thinking about, even when I finished it. And it’s definitely a thriller.
While most of the world has drowned beneath the sudden rising waters of a climate apocalypse, Dinétah (formerly the Navajo reservation) has been reborn. The gods and heroes of legend walk the land, but so do monsters.
Maggie Hoskie is a Dinétah monster hunter, a supernaturally gifted killer. When a small town needs help finding a missing girl, Maggie is their last—and best—hope. But what Maggie uncovers about the monster is much larger and more terrifying than anything she could imagine.
Maggie reluctantly enlists the aid of Kai Arviso, an unconventional medicine man, and together they travel to the rez to unravel clues from ancient legends, trade favors with tricksters, and battle dark witchcraft in a patchwork world of deteriorating technology.
As Maggie discovers the truth behind the disappearances, she will have to confront her past—if she wants to survive.
I’ve been waiting to read this book for a long time. Diverse urban fantasy?! Native futurism? Heroines who want to fight everybody and everything? Absolutely! Give me all of it!
Urban fantasy is one of my favorite forms of escapism–I got into it with Ilona Andrews, and haven’t looked back since. Kick-ass heroines who beat people up and fight monsters are my jam. And when I heard Maggie in Trail of Lightning is, well, exactly that … I was excited.
I had the good fortune to see Rebecca Roanhorse in conversation with N.K. Jemisin at BookCon 2019. Both authors were incredibly knowledgeable and thoughtful about the state of SFF fiction, writing, and publishing.
If I hadn’t already been convinced I needed to check out Rebecca Roanhorse’s work before that, I would DEFINITELY have been after that.
Trail of Lightning is an incredible, energetic, intense book that doesn’t pull punches and is an incredibly VIBRANT work of fiction.
The energy, the emotions, the desperation and hope and being-pulled-between-two-selves–the violence of the monsters, the questioning of the main character–is she one of them?
The unexpected kindnesses. The flashes of humanity in the fantastic world of gods and monsters–humans, fighting to control their destinies, their kindness and greed and above all, community.
Those are the images that stick with me from this book.
Plot, Setting, Magic
It’s incredibly original. I’ve read a lot of dystopia and urban fantasy, and this is something very new. I loved the worldbuilding. The setting of the apocalyptic collapse of society makes a fascinating backdrop, woven beautifully into the story. It felt fresh, unusual, different, something I haven’t read before. I really value that.
I loved the mystery aspect of the plot: who is behind these terrifying monsters, and why? I’m a total sucker for mystery plots. This one delivered.
The magic systems are not cut-and-dried, but more mysterious and subtle. I liked that too.
I found every bit of the mythology and cultural histories–both real, and projected–so fascinating. I’ll admit I know next to nothing about Navajo mythologies and I loved getting a glimpse into them through this book. I also really appreciated the use of many Navajo words throughout the text. I look forward to what more I’ll see in the next book.
And the ENDING. I’m MAD. In a good way. But also I need the next book IMMEDIATELY. (Luckily, I have it. Bless the local library!). One hell of a cliffhanger, let me tell you.
Characters
I loved how bits of Maggie’s past slowly resurfaced throughout the story–to her great reluctance. I loved the relationship between her and Kai–her initial suspicion and dismissal, and the way he just keeps proving her wrong about her assumptions.
I love how strong Maggie is, but also how internally conflicted she can be. She doesn’t think she has much good to offer–but she DOES. And you, the reader, are cheering her on every minute in her internal quest to DISCOVER THAT. Just. I love her.
I also REALLY loved Kai. I wasn’t expecting that. From the moment he showed up I was like hmm, not my type, I’ll probably dislike him. But just like he kept proving Maggie wrong, he proved ME wrong. Which is probably exactly what Roanhorse intended. And you know what, it works.
I wanted to know more and more about each character’s backstory–including all the secondary characters–as they surfaced. They’re all so alive, I could really feel their differences in voices, in manner, in thought process–no easy task. I could feel the weight of their personal histories directing their choices and reactions, even if I didn’t know those backstories yet.
I loved how we as the reader aren’t sure who to trust. Roanhorse does a magnificent job slowly dropping hints and pieces of backstory throughout the book, in a way that makes you desperately want to know MORE, second-guessing your assumptions about everything the more you learn.
Writing
Excellent. Really excellent. The book comes alive under Roanhorse’s pen, this is one of those where you just CAN’T put it down once you’ve started it–so schedule yourself a nice block of time. The hits keep coming, and Roanhorse doesn’t let up the pace. Even in breather scenes, something’s always happening.
Whether it’s fighting, friendly (or not) conversations, or emotional confrontations (of oneself, or others), each scene packs a punch and there aren’t any wasted words. It’s emotionally raw, tight, excellently paced writing.
Star Rating
5/5 stars. You saw that coming, didn’t you?
Conclusion
Read it. Just do it. This is an author to watch–I mean, just look at the awards this book has gotten! You won’t regret it. Highly, highly recommend. Most importantly, go read it then come back and tell me so I can yell about it with somebody.
I’m so glad I picked up this book, and I can’t wait to see what Rebecca Roanhorse will do next.
In The Library 