A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid is a dark academia-esque novel that was both interesting and entertaining, though it takes a while to pick up. The first 40% of the book feels slow before the story truly becomes engaging. One of the strongest aspects of the book was Effy’s character. She was incredibly relatable, especially in her struggle against a world designed to work against her. The moments where misogyny and sexism were acknowledged and challenged felt validating. However, I didn’t appreciate the light references to Effy being bigoted toward Argant. While there was some self-reflection on her part, it was brief and didn’t feel necessary to the story. Her falling in love with someone of a different race doesn’t magically erase her racism—it definitely doesn’t work like that. This isn’t an enemies-to-lovers situation because the dynamic is fundamentally different. I also found the world-building somewhat underutilized. For example, the Sleepers were introduced as an intriguing concept but barely played a role until the very end—and even then, their presence felt abrupt and underdeveloped. It felt like a missed opportunity to integrate them more meaningfully into the plot. That said, the writing style was hauntingly beautiful, like a Renaissance painting capturing moments of grief. Reid’s prose was poetic and immersive, making for a truly lyrical reading experience. Despite its flaws, the novel had a unique and atmospheric quality that stayed with me.
I would like to thank netgalley for an eARC being provided so I could review this book.
I’ve had my eye on Sayaka Murata for a while, and I was excited to finally read one of her books. The Vanishing World was unsettling, eerie, and deeply thought-provoking. Murata has a way of immersing the reader seamlessly into her world, and her ability to capture the most grotesque aspects of human nature—the insecurity, insatiable greed, and hypocrisy—is both disturbing and fascinating.
One of the most intriguing aspects of this book was its depiction of family structures. The way Murata presents them feels unsettlingly plausible, as if she’s holding up a warped mirror to our world. Whether her vision of the future is dystopian or just the inevitable evolution of society is left up to the reader to decide.
I also appreciate how direct and unflinching Murata’s writing is—she doesn’t waste words, and every sentence feels purposeful. That said, I found myself irritated with every single character, which I think was intentional. Their flaws are the driving force of the story, making them difficult to like but impossible to ignore. And then there’s Saku—his character felt so odd and disconnected from traditional masculinity that at times, it didn’t even feel like he was written as a man. Which I understand now was an intentional decision.
Overall, The Vanishing World was an unsettling yet compelling read, and Murata’s unique storytelling left a strong impression on me.
It was getting really boring. And I found I was forcing myself to read it; life is too short to do something like that. Especially for a book like this
I would like to thank netgalley for providing me with an ARC copy in exchange for a review.
*Please Fear Me* by Jennifer Love is a book that left me with mixed feelings. While it wasn’t bad, it requires a strong connection with the protagonist, Smidge, to fully engage with the story. The plot itself isn’t particularly defined, which isn’t necessarily a flaw, but it places more weight on the reader’s ability to relate to Smidge—a connection I personally struggled to establish. Smidge’s aloofness made it difficult for me to resonate with her, which became the defining aspect of my reading experience.
That said, the book is beautifully written. The world-building is stunning; I truly felt immersed in Baton Rouge and the swampy landscapes Jennifer Love vividly brought to life. The writing style was intriguing, especially Smidge’s unique ability to feel emotions for things I hadn’t imagined one could feel for—it was oddly captivating!
However, one character stood out for the wrong reasons: Violet. Her personality reminded me of Vanessa from *The Ultimatum: Queer Love*—if you’ve seen the show, you’ll know exactly what I mean. Despite this, I appreciated the imperfect and flawed nature of the characters. It gave the story a raw, surreal quality that blurred the line between reality and fiction.
While I didn’t form a deep connection with this book, I can see it being a favorite for readers who resonate with Smidge or enjoy atmospheric, character-driven stories. Jennifer Love’s ability to create such a rich setting and unconventional narrative style is commendable, even if it didn’t fully work for me.