A review by emleemay
Grave Witch by Kalayna Price

3.0

This book was pretty good on the whole, especially when you compare it to some of the other urban fantasy books that I've had the misfortune of reading recently. The genre's taken me all over the place in the last few months: I've been addicted, annoyed, disappointed, I've laughed, I've cried, I've ranted and I've recommended. At the very least, Kalayna Price gave me a real urban fantasy story instead of the typical Twilight-style "I'm-so-obsessed-with-you-if-you-leave-me-I'll-die" kind of paranormal romance with a not very exciting mystery story mixed in to try and make the reader think the author actually cares about characters and plot rather than just filling the blanks between the sweet-nothings and sex.

Grave Witch was a decent story with a decent heroine and a whole lot of decently-written supernatural happenings. But... it just wasn't particularly exciting at all. I found it an okay way to pass a lazy evening but it didn't get my pulse racing once, didn't make me feel the need to go out and buy Grave Dance, just generally failed to move me in any kind of way. The first book of a series should sell the rest of the series to you - but it didn't.

So, what did I like? I liked Alex Craft (the heroine) for the most part and, I never thought I'd say this in a review, Death is sexy. No, that's not me finally going over the edge and taking up necrophilia, that's me talking about the jeans-clad, dangerous and amusing Grim Reaper that is always looking over Alex's shoulder. I thought he would have made a much more interesting love interest (yes, I know how weird that sounds) than Falin Andrews. Andrews seemed alright, a bit of the old serious and broody kind of attractive... until we find out he's got really long, platinum-blond hair. How many times? It is only okay for men to have long blond hair if their name is Eric and they're from Bon Temps. Only Ms Harris could sell a look that is better suited to Barbie dolls.

I'll tell you what I'm also tired of that happens in nearly every novel with a witch: long, pointless descriptions of spells, rituals, summonings, etc, etc. Unless I discover my inner witch any time soon, I doubt I have the need to know the exact lengthy process that they must go through when casting a spell. Whatever happened to bibbity-bobbity-boo? Now, those were the days.

I think it's fair to say I need to leave this genre alone for a while, it's giving me a headache.