Tag: 2022 Releases

Spoiler-Free Review: From Dust, a Flame by Rebecca Podos (out 2/22/2022)

Published by J. Z. Kelley on February 13, 2022

Cover of From Dust, a Flame by Rebecca Podos

Genre: Contemporary fantasy
Audience: YA
Series?: Seemingly standalone, but fingers crossed!

For fans of: Encanto, Primal Animals Julia Lynn Rubin, Veronica Schanoes’s short fiction, The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy, primary source research, etymology, found family (both literal and metaphorical), antiquing

I don’t remember exactly how I came to have a review copy of From Dust, a Flame. I mean, I know it came from Netgalley, but I don’t remember requesting it. It was just on my Kindle one day, with its dark and foreboding romantic cover, and I once again dove into a book with no memory of the blurb.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover Rebecca Podos’s fourth book isn’t the Hunger Games-adjacent drama-and-action-and-drama fest the cover implies. (I love a dystopian YA, but it’s been, you know, a time, and I’m very tired.)

From Dust, a Flame by Rebecca Podos is a young adult contemporary Jewish fantasy novel about how trauma gets passed through generations of parents imperfectly protecting their children. Most of the action revolves around primary source research, most of the drama is familial, and the romantic subplot is sapphic. It’s what I call a “nice story”–not free from conflict or trauma, but thoughtful about how it portrays them and full of characters who are trying their best to do right by each other, even when they make mistakes.

The main character, Hannah Williams, will resonate with readers who recognized themselves in Encanto’s super strong, hyper capable Luisa (me; I bawled my eyes out). Even though Hannah and her family have not spent more than a year in the same district since she started school, Hannah is a perfect student. She sacrifices sleep, free time, hobbies, and friendships in order to maintain her perfect grades.

Hannah has this sense of herself as someone who isn’t naturally gifted in any way, and therefore has to strive four times as hard as her peers in order to earn the love that flows naturally to the rest of her family:

Nobody can help loving my brother, but I don’t need anyone to love me like that. I just need to be good enough that they can’t help but sit up and notice me … sometimes, it feels like no student-of-the-mother award or A++ essay or glowing teacher’s recommendation could make Mom pay me her full attention.

Hannah’s mother and older brother, Gabe, are eccentric, extroverted artist types. It’s Hannah’s mother’s wanderlust that keeps the family in constant motion along “a trail of borrowed houses that had been winding its way across the country for years.” It’s Gabe’s grew-up-too-fast emotional maturity that keeps them relatively peaceful anyway.

When Hannah’s mother was seventeen, she ran away from “a black farmhouse besieged on all sides by wildflowers.”

The night before Hannah’s seventeenth birthday, her mother gives her a silver pendant:

“A hamsa. It was from a friend of your grandmother’s … Someone who meant a lot to me growing up.”
… We’ve never met our grandmother on Mom’s side, never met any of her relatives. Mom rarely talks about the people or place she comes from, or anything that happened to her before [she met our deceased father]. I’ve never even seen a picture of her as a kid …

There are Stars of David engraved in the tip of each of the hamsa’s fingers. It’s the first time Hannah learns her mother’s family is Jewish–that she is Jewish.

What exactly that means is a recurring theme throughout From Dust, a Flame. As Hannah learns more about her family history, she meets Jewish people with a wide range of beliefs and practices, from atheists to mystics. Podos is clearly trying to balance Judaism for Goyim (“This is how we celebrate, this is how we mourn,” etc.) with more in-group-oriented discussions about Jewish identity.

Since I’m not Jewish, I can’t really say how well they pull it off, but I could tell how meaningful a project it was for her, and I am always won over by authorial earnestness.

The morning after Hannah opens the hamsa, she wakes up with “impossible golden eyes, and horizontal, knife-slit pupils.”

I was like “Hell yeah, werewolves,” but unfortunately this is not a werewolf book. When Hannah wakes up the next morning, the not-werewolf eyes are gone, and she has another animal feature. It’s a painless transformation that happens every night while she is asleep, and it’s only ever the one feature.

Gabe’s adamant about taking Hannah to a doctor. He’s a big fan of horror movies, so I don’t know why he would think that was a good idea, but his mother talks him out of it. She says she knows “a specialist” back home. She’ll go and find this person, Gabe and Hannah will stay alone in the apartment for two weeks at the most, and everything will be just fine.

Unsurprisingly, everything is not just fine. Their mother never returns, and Hannah ropes Gabe into going after her with only a mysterious piece of mail that arrived after her disappearance to guide them.

As I read about Hannah and Gabe digging through the layers of trauma and mistakes that formed them, I was really impressed by how Podos managed to craft such thorough and well-rounded arcs for so many characters in such a comparatively short book. Even when I disagreed with the choices characters made, I fully understood and empathized with the reasons they made them. It felt true to my experience of inherited trauma: Most people do the best they can to protect their children, but their scars get passed down anyway.

The only aspect of From Dust, a Flame that didn’t work for me was the way the final conflict was resolved. I liked the outcome, but I thought too much of the getting-there happened offscreen. It felt like it was geared toward a much younger audience than the seventeen-year-old protagonist would suggest.

Overall, though, I loved this quiet little book. At a time in my life where everything feels like it’s falling apart, I found the themes of grief and inherited trauma salient and comforting.

Plus, I cannot resist gay tryhards with mommy issues, and Podos gave me not one but four of them to love. I’m hoping she will also give me a sequel with Gabe as the protagonist because I love him and I want to see him thriving in college.

Disclosure

I received a free ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Can you do me a favor?

If you like this review, please like it on Goodreads and maybe follow me there.

More Info

Publisher: Balzer + Bray
Hardback Page Count: 416

Rebecca Podos won a Lambda Literary award for her second book, Like Water. You can find them on Goodreads and Twitter.

You can support your local independent bookstore by preordering From Dust, a Flame on Bookshop.org, or grab it on Amazon.

Spoiler-Free Review: Anatomy: A Love Story by Dana Schwartz (Out 1/18/22)

Published by J. Z. Kelley on January 10, 2022

Cover of Anatomy: A Love Story by Dana Schwartz

Genre: Gothic
Audience: YA
Series?: Standalone

Rating: Not for me

For fans of: Stalking Jack the Ripper, Titanic, Tuck Everlasting, Mary Shelley, rich girl/poor boy romance, old anatomical drawings, plague stories

I requested a review copy of Anatomy: A Love Story after hearing Dana Schwartz’s guest appearance on the podcast You Are Good. Sarah Marshall, one of the podcast’s hosts, called it a “grave-robber YA book,” and I was in.

It helps that cover is absolutely gorgeous. It features a red-haired white young woman in a long red gown, viewed from above so that her skirts make an anatomical heart. The font is bold and gothic.

Unfortunately, though I liked the book, it didn’t quite live up to the expectations I had based on the podcast and cover.

The book is set in Edinburgh, 1817, and told through the alternating perspectives of lady Hazel Sinnett and resurrection man Jack Currer.

Here’s my first problem: At first, Schwartz sticks to the convention of maintaining one consistent perspective per chapter, but later, Jack will get a few paragraphs or even just a single sentence in the middle of a Hazel chapter, and vice versa. Either approach (alternating between or within chapters) would be fine, but I found the lack of consistency both confusing and frustrating.

On the other hand, I loved Hazel as a character. She’s a fiercely independent and powerfully lonely young woman trying to delay what she sees as an inevitable marriage to her cousin because she wants to be a surgeon.

This is doubly embarrassing for her cousin/future husband. Ladies aren’t supposed to have professions, and surgeons are regarded as the lowest kind of medical professional:

“If you wanted to pretend that you were going to become a physician–or a nurse–I suppose that would be one thing. But surgery–Hazel, surgery is the field for men with no money. No status. They’re butchers, really!”

Which, fair. Anesthesia hasn’t been invented yet, and surgeons won’t even start routinely washing their hands for another fifty years.

When we meet her, she’s gathering a dead frog and some makeshift lightning rods to see if she can harness the electricity of a gathering storm to reanimate the dead. She’s ruthless and a little cold in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen from a female protagonist. Definitely not a young female protagonist that the narrative regards as uncompromisingly good.

When the local surgeon refuses to teach Hazel because of her sex, she makes a wager with the famous Dr. Beecham:

“The conditions: You will sit the Physician’s Examination at the end of this term. If you pass, I shall open the course to any women who wish to attend, although I warn you there may not be quite so many with your peculiar predilection as you seem to believe. And, in the unlikely event that you do pass, I will also offer you an apprenticeship–with me–at the university hospital …
“Let’s say that if you do not pass the Physician’s Examination, you’ll be unable to sit it in the future. This larger experiment, of a female surgeon, will be considered concluded.”

But Beecham warns Hazel that it will not be possible for her to pass the practical examination with only theoretical knowledge. She needs hands-on experience.

Enter Jack Currer, a poor boy who lives in the rafters of a theater and steals corpses (but never their belongings, which is a more serious crime) to make ends meet. Medical schools require stolen corpses to teach anatomy and surgery because it’s illegal to practice on anyone but executed criminals, and there aren’t enough of those to go around.

Their star-crossed romance is painfully Romeo and Juliet. When he first meets Hazel, Jack believes he’s in love with the prima ballerina at his theater. Hazel is engaged to her cousin. Their families aren’t at war (Jack doesn’t have any family.), but there’s plenty of blood and death, anyway. They share their first kiss in a graveyard, sitting on top of a coffin. Hazel’s horse is named Rosalind.

It worked for me because Jack challenges Hazel, and I appreciate a narrative that recognizes what a relief it is to have someone take you seriously enough to argue with you. They have some cute banter early on:

The boy grinned and winked, although it might have just been him squinting against the setting sun … “I don’t find myself cavorting with high society ladies like yourself too often, so doesn’t strike me as an introduction one needs to make.”
“We’ve already met. Twice.” Hazel reasoned.
“Aye, but is it really meeting if I haven’t given ye a name?” he said, and this time he winked for real.

I also liked their interdependency. Neither Jack nor Hazel can achieve their goals without help from the other, and neither exists purely to help the other grow as a character. At first.

Then, it abruptly stopped working for me. Jack lost all agency. He became a prop in Hazel’s story in a way that felt a lot like a superhero’s girlfriend alternately nagging him and needing to be rescued. It wasn’t even like that loss of agency pushed Hazel to make any significant changes, it just made it hard to remember why Hazel supposedly cared so much about Jack in the first place.

Around this time, the book took a hard shift for the gothic. I don’t know if I can say it was surprising, given the cover, but the first three-quarters of the book are solidly historical fiction. There are no obvious speculative elements, and while there’s obviously suspense, it isn’t moonless night on the foggy moors with a wailing that might just be the wind suspense. The tone is pretty standard for a historical YA.

None of this felt like a twist. Instead, it felt like I was suddenly reading a different book, and I didn’t care what happened because the characters shared only surface details with the characters of the book I had been reading, and everything I had liked about them was gone. I really struggled to finish the book, and I found the ending profoundly unsatisfying.

It’s so frustrating. I enjoyed the majority of the book, and I think putting Jack into the role of the gothic damsel and making Hazel a gothic hero could be interesting, but it just didn’t come together for me.

Disclosure

I received a free ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Can you do me a favor?

If you like this review, please like it on Goodreads and maybe follow me there.

More Info

Publisher: Wednesday Books
Hardback Page Count: 352

Dana Schwartz is everywhere. She has podcasts, Twitter accounts, bylines, a Wikipedia page. I can’t even begin to list all her contact information.

You can support your local independent bookstore by buying Anatomy: A Love Story on Bookshop.org, or grab it on Amazon.

Review: Servant Mage by Kate Elliott (Out 1/18/21)

Published by J. Z. Kelley on January 8, 2022

Genre: Fantasy
Audience: Adult
Series?: Standalone

Rating: Loved it!

For fans of: Cold Magic, The Bone Witch, Shadow and Bone, fantasy maps, magic systems that would be really easy to incorporate into TTRPGs, PWP but instead of porn it’s worldbuilding

I’m a big Kate Elliott fan, so I was thrilled to get the opportunity to review one of her books. I devoured the whole thing in a single day and immediately logged onto Goodreads and gave it five out of five stars. While I was there, I noticed the average star rating was lower than expected, so I did something I promised myself I’d stop doing and took a peek at some of the other reviews.

Screenshot of a 3/5 star review by Goodreads user jessica:

i saw praise from s.a. chakraborty and i couldnt request an ARC fast enough.

i think the concept is unique and the characters are definitely intriguing, but it all only feels surface level. i dont think the short length and it being a standalone does the story any favours. it feels a tad too underdeveloped, a bit too incomplete, a little too rushed.

the thing is, there is so much content in terms of plot and characters that this could easily be expanded, either by making the standalone longer or by making this the first part in a series. so i have no idea why the author chose to make this a novella instead.

overall, cool idea but the execution just didnt quite work for me. i wanted more, which is both a positive and a negative.

thank you for the ARC, macmillan-tor/forge!

↠ 2.5 stars

Oh … those are good points … Well, I didn’t feel that way. I really enjoyed Servant Mage! Kate Elliott is such a good writer!

Friends, it has only been about week since I finished this book, and I had to go back to my Kindle highlights to remember anything about it. I didn’t retain the main character’s name. I didn’t retain any of the major plot beats. All I had was a mental image of a walled courtyard.

I’m not going to revise my rating because I have deliberately chosen a rating system that catalogues how I feel about a book when I finish it, rather than what I think about a book. What I think now is that Kate Elliott is such a strong writer that she can sell almost any story, even if the plot is wobbly and the ending is hanging on by a single rusted hinge. But I clearly felt like it was a good time, and that’s all the counts in these parts.

To the walled courtyard!

Since the revolution, Fellion’s country has regarded mages as a communal resource. The Liberationist Council government removes young magic users from their families, subjects them to horrific conditions in training camps, and then forces them to labor as “indentured servants” for various people and businesses. The justifying ideology is partially about using their powers for the common good, partially about controlling the symbiotic wraiths that give them their powers, but seems primarily to be a response to the high esteem they enjoyed under the Monarchist government.

Fellion is indentured to a hotel. In addition to using her fire magic to provide warmth and light for the wealthy patrons, Fellion scrubs the outhouses on her hands and knees. Because the latter task is gross, she can usually depend on the courtyard around the outhouses to be empty while she’s supposed to be cleaning them, and Fellion uses those daily moments of privacy to teach other servants to read.

I wanted more of these lessons. Narratively, their purpose is to establish Fellion as someone who is willing to risk her safety and freedom to do what is right, and also to introduce her backstory. Fellion’s mother and “older father” (Three-parent families seem to be the norm in this world.) were executed by the Liberationists for writing and distributing seditious materials.

However, after half a lesson at the beginning of the book, Fellion’s students exit the narrative entirely. I wanted more of a payoff for them. Thematically, I think it would make sense for Fellion’s relationships with other servants to play a role in the resolution, but they’re really just there as setup.

Her first on-page lesson is interrupted by an air “Adept, a mage whose gift was not commonplace as most were but superior and thus laudable and demanding of the highest respect.” He offers to pay her well for a job whose parameters he refuses to define. A job Fellion immediately realizes must be illicit:

“Because you made me an offer. If you were working on the orders of the Liberationist Council you’d have marched in and handed a transfer license to my boss to take control of my indenture. So I’m guessing this is something you’re doing for yourself. Or maybe on hire for someone you can’t refuse …”

However, Fellion’s desperate to escape indenture, and the Adept can not only pay her well but also provide her with a travel permit, so she accepts.

She and the Adept join up with three other mages: earth, water, and aether. Fellion’s a little scandalized. The Liberationist Council has banned “five arrow quivers” (groups of one of each kind of mage), though she doesn’t know why.

Fellion knows there are Monarchist rebels trapped beneath the Iron Hills. At first, the quiver seems to be headed in that direction. She surmises:

“… Maybe you’re out of oil and need Lamps to help guide people out. Folk are calling it the last stand of the Monarchists. But that fight was already lost … My grandmother used to say Monarchist rebels are a twitching corpse that hasn’t realized it’s dead. Even if they were to win, which they can’t, it’s over for them … No royal child of the dragon lineage has been born in the years since.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before the group gets word that a dragon-born child has “fallen into the world.” The group rushes off to try to save the child before the Liberationist Council can find and kill her.

Traveling with the Monarchist rebels, Fellion gradually learns everything she knows about magic and the history of the revolution is a deliberate lie crafted to support Liberationist rule. As a reader, I found myself reluctantly beginning to side with the Monarchists. They feed, bathe, and clothe Fellion more generously than she has been since she was stolen from her family as a child. They seem genuinely grieved by her trauma. They’re gentle with her, and when they realize they’re in immediate danger, they give her the option to set out on her own rather than face it with her.

Only it’s a false choice. Fellion is unlikely to survive extended travel on her own.

Worse, the Monarchists don’t seem to realize it’s a false choice. They think very highly of themselves for treating Fellion better than the Liberationists, but they still maintain a rigid class-based hierarchy. They treat Fellion almost as an equal on the road, but as soon as they get to a Monarchist settlement, she’s forced to eat and sleep apart from the noble members of her group. They expect her to be grateful for it.

This is reassuring, right? It’s 2021. We don’t need books that justify rule by birthright.

Unfortunately, even though it’s ethically the right decision, it made the ending less satisfying than it could have been. Fellion spends most of her journey with people who are somewhat kinder to her than the people she escaped from but still aren’t her friend, which means she isn’t able to develop any significant relationships. Not with her fellow servants, not with the rebels, and not with the family she might hopefully find again someday.

Which is not to say the ending is unsatisfying. Fellion’s arc is lovely. She really comes into her own and chooses a path that’s in harmony with her family’s values and her own lived experiences. In the final pages, I was filled with a sense of hope and excitement for what comes next. I did immediately rate it five stars, after all.

Unfortunately, right now it seems like what comes next is nothing. This feels like a really good prequel to a really great epic fantasy trilogy, but it’s a standalone. I can understand why that information might make someone choose to mark it down, but instead I’m going to choose to hope that enough positive reviews will inspire Tor to give Kate Elliott a three-book contract to continue the series.

Please?

Disclosure

I received a free ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Can you do me a favor?

If you like this review, please like it on Goodreads and maybe follow me there.

More Info

Publisher: Tordotcom
eBook Page Count: 176

Kate Elliott is on Twitter.

All the preorder links for Servant Mage are on Tordotcom’s website.