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fourthleafluck's reviews
23 reviews
A Darker Mischief by Derek Milman
dark
emotional
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
The Bell in the Fog by Lev AC Rosen
dark
funny
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Cubs & Campfires by Dylan Drakes
emotional
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
Summary:
Luca, a self-possessed and ambitious sex columnist gets offered a prestigious opportunity to write an article about being abstinent for a summer, and signs up for the isolated job of fire watch for a national park in Washington State to avoid temptation. When Luca gets there, he almost immediately encounters Artair, a hot, funny, and sweet bear who seems to know the woods better than anyone (and has the most adorable fox companion). With the vast expanse of golden summertime forest stretching out before the two of them and their increasingly sensual encounters, Luca must decide between a blossoming connection and the best professional opportunity he's ever encountered.
Thoughts:
I thoroughly enjoyed it. The humor of the book runs towards tongue-in-cheek, and the overall tone is lighthearted and unashamed in its frequent cheesiness. That being said, the conflicts the characters experience do feel substantive, and the solutions satisfying.
Both Luca and Artair are sexually experienced and have chemistry and insta-lust for each other— which felt believable enough to me. The sexuality is GORGEOUS, largely joyful, and has an undercurrent of play that really feeds into the slightly surreal setting and everything we learn about the characters. The more sensual and smutty scenes really allow Drakes' strengths to shine— and they are frequent.
On a more personal note, as a fat guy who is into bigger guys, this book filled me with a sense of joy I did not think I would ever be able to feel reading a book. I did not think I would ever be able to read about guys like me on the pages of a book— let alone a version of us that is so lovingly and hornily rendered.
Conclusion/TLDR:
This book does precisely what it says on the tin. It is a low-angst, playful, VERY sexy romance between two big guys who are really into each other. The story is cleanly executed, the characters lovable, and the sex scenes frequent. If you're looking for a high steam M/M romance that is sweet, sincere, and celebrates big guys, I can't recommend Cubs and Campfires enough.
Luca, a self-possessed and ambitious sex columnist gets offered a prestigious opportunity to write an article about being abstinent for a summer, and signs up for the isolated job of fire watch for a national park in Washington State to avoid temptation. When Luca gets there, he almost immediately encounters Artair, a hot, funny, and sweet bear who seems to know the woods better than anyone (and has the most adorable fox companion). With the vast expanse of golden summertime forest stretching out before the two of them and their increasingly sensual encounters, Luca must decide between a blossoming connection and the best professional opportunity he's ever encountered.
Thoughts:
I thoroughly enjoyed it. The humor of the book runs towards tongue-in-cheek, and the overall tone is lighthearted and unashamed in its frequent cheesiness. That being said, the conflicts the characters experience do feel substantive, and the solutions satisfying.
Both Luca and Artair are sexually experienced and have chemistry and insta-lust for each other— which felt believable enough to me. The sexuality is GORGEOUS, largely joyful, and has an undercurrent of play that really feeds into the slightly surreal setting and everything we learn about the characters. The more sensual and smutty scenes really allow Drakes' strengths to shine— and they are frequent.
On a more personal note, as a fat guy who is into bigger guys, this book filled me with a sense of joy I did not think I would ever be able to feel reading a book. I did not think I would ever be able to read about guys like me on the pages of a book— let alone a version of us that is so lovingly and hornily rendered.
Conclusion/TLDR:
This book does precisely what it says on the tin. It is a low-angst, playful, VERY sexy romance between two big guys who are really into each other. The story is cleanly executed, the characters lovable, and the sex scenes frequent. If you're looking for a high steam M/M romance that is sweet, sincere, and celebrates big guys, I can't recommend Cubs and Campfires enough.
The Spellmaster of Tutting-on-Cress by Sarah Wallace
emotional
hopeful
lighthearted
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
Like its Meddle & Mend predecessors, The Spellmaster of Tutting-on-Cress is a cozy historical romance with a twist of magic and focus on interpersonal relationships. Building on the story of spellmaster Gerry Hartford (who long-time M&M readers will recognize) and newcomer to town Basil Thorne, TSoToC explores each MC's family dynamics and slowly blossoms into a sweet romance.
In Wallace's usual fashion, The Spellmaster of Tutting-on-Cress is cozy, whimsical, and profoundly heartfelt. Unafraid to deal with complications surrounding family bullying and the death of a parent, the narrative is beautifully balanced between a cozy atmosphere and navigating complex interpersonal/ emotional issues.
The pacing of the story is slow, but slow in the way of honey and molasses. It's that way for a reason, and remains thematically consistent with the whole of the novel. Gerry and Basil don't know each other at the beginning. Basil is overwhelmed by his new responsibilities. Gerry is navigating her lack of romantic attraction and desire for romance. The pace moves slowly because it allows the story to settle into itself, and when the romance does drop into the narrative, it is honey-sweet and feels deliciously well-earned.
One of my favorite parts of Wallace's writing is their ability to create a large cast of characters that are distinct individuals and that—aside from antagonists— genuinely care about each other. This book was no exception.
That being said, as someone who is only familiar with one of the other books in the M&M series, I found it difficult to keep track of who is who in this book and how they are in relationship with one another. I eventually started to figure it out about halfway through, but it was a little rough at the start. I imagine if one is a more dedicated fan of the series, it is a particular treat to encounter so many characters from previous books and to get some of their POVs.
As someone who lands about where Gerry does on the aromantic spectrum, it was also incredibly meaningful to see how the story navigated Gerry's feelings— or, as it were, her initial lack of romantic feelings. Her resistance to the pressure of relationship expectations from those around her and her simultaneous desire for romance felt familiar and thoughtfully rendered. I left this book feeling less alone and like the author had approached the topic with immense care.
TLDR: This book made me feel like a cat curled up in a sunbeam on a late spring afternoon. If you are looking for a cozy queer romantic read that's both sincere and whimsical, I cannot recommend TSoToC enough.
note: I was provided an ARC of this book by the author
In Wallace's usual fashion, The Spellmaster of Tutting-on-Cress is cozy, whimsical, and profoundly heartfelt. Unafraid to deal with complications surrounding family bullying and the death of a parent, the narrative is beautifully balanced between a cozy atmosphere and navigating complex interpersonal/ emotional issues.
The pacing of the story is slow, but slow in the way of honey and molasses. It's that way for a reason, and remains thematically consistent with the whole of the novel. Gerry and Basil don't know each other at the beginning. Basil is overwhelmed by his new responsibilities. Gerry is navigating her lack of romantic attraction and desire for romance. The pace moves slowly because it allows the story to settle into itself, and when the romance does drop into the narrative, it is honey-sweet and feels deliciously well-earned.
One of my favorite parts of Wallace's writing is their ability to create a large cast of characters that are distinct individuals and that—aside from antagonists— genuinely care about each other. This book was no exception.
That being said, as someone who is only familiar with one of the other books in the M&M series, I found it difficult to keep track of who is who in this book and how they are in relationship with one another. I eventually started to figure it out about halfway through, but it was a little rough at the start. I imagine if one is a more dedicated fan of the series, it is a particular treat to encounter so many characters from previous books and to get some of their POVs.
As someone who lands about where Gerry does on the aromantic spectrum, it was also incredibly meaningful to see how the story navigated Gerry's feelings— or, as it were, her initial lack of romantic feelings. Her resistance to the pressure of relationship expectations from those around her and her simultaneous desire for romance felt familiar and thoughtfully rendered. I left this book feeling less alone and like the author had approached the topic with immense care.
TLDR: This book made me feel like a cat curled up in a sunbeam on a late spring afternoon. If you are looking for a cozy queer romantic read that's both sincere and whimsical, I cannot recommend TSoToC enough.
note: I was provided an ARC of this book by the author
Content Warnings
Moderate: Death of parent
Minor: Bullying
Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology by Shane Hawk, Theodore C. Van Alst Jr.
challenging
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
How Do You Live? by Genzaburō Yoshino
emotional
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall by Sebastian Nothwell
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
From Shakespeare and Carmilla-related flirting in a cemetery to mysterious figures haunting a decaying manor with an untold secret, The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall is about as gothic as it gets.
Kit's narration is deeply immersive and the pacing of the story is riveting. The horror and romance took turns pulling me along, and I loved every second. I desperately wanted to keep reading after I had to put the book down, and ended up devouring it in a single day.
As always, Nothwell's historicity is a boon and a delight. Kit's connections with her whaler predecessors and interactions with historical New Bedford were a treat— especially as someone with a special interest in and professional experience with Massachusetts history. From intimate knowledge of historical buildings and clothing to contemporaneous literary references that these characters would recognize— Nothwell does his research and it shows.
The leads' attraction to each other is clear as day and the sex scene is STEAMY. Fiorenzo and Oak King Holly King prove that Nothwell is a master of chemistry, and I was thrilled to see that this extends to his sapphic work as well.
If you are looking for a classic gothic horror with a deliciously sapphic twist, I cannot recommend The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall enough.
(For all the other Crimson Peak girlies who saw the butterfly scene and said "... Edith and Lucille should have f***ed nasty instead"— Mr. Nothwell proved us right.)
note: I was provided a reviewer copy of this book.
Kit's narration is deeply immersive and the pacing of the story is riveting. The horror and romance took turns pulling me along, and I loved every second. I desperately wanted to keep reading after I had to put the book down, and ended up devouring it in a single day.
As always, Nothwell's historicity is a boon and a delight. Kit's connections with her whaler predecessors and interactions with historical New Bedford were a treat— especially as someone with a special interest in and professional experience with Massachusetts history. From intimate knowledge of historical buildings and clothing to contemporaneous literary references that these characters would recognize— Nothwell does his research and it shows.
The leads' attraction to each other is clear as day and the sex scene is STEAMY. Fiorenzo and Oak King Holly King prove that Nothwell is a master of chemistry, and I was thrilled to see that this extends to his sapphic work as well.
If you are looking for a classic gothic horror with a deliciously sapphic twist, I cannot recommend The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall enough.
(For all the other Crimson Peak girlies who saw the butterfly scene and said "... Edith and Lucille should have f***ed nasty instead"— Mr. Nothwell proved us right.)
note: I was provided a reviewer copy of this book.
A Tempest of Tea by Hafsah Faizal
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
The Ferryman by Justin Cronin
challenging
emotional
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.5
The Ferryman is a surreal dystopian thriller that follows the life of professional Ferryman (a psychopomp-like position) Proctor Bennett as he stumbled into the cracks in the utopian society he inhabits, and becomes determined to uncover its hidden truth.
Overall, I enjoyed Cronin's prose. His writing style was interesting and the pacing was easy to keep reading. Occasionally Proctor will break into more poetic moments, which I thought were a fun addition to a character who doesn't have a ton of personality. I also felt like Cronin had a good sense of the pace at which to disseminate information to feed the mystery, and effectively laid the breadcrumb trail to the big twist. I expected the twist, but didn't have a complete picture of what the twist would be, which made a pretty effective volta when the moment arrived. I felt like was telegraphed, but not overly so.
That being said, the novel didn't really work for me. It's marketed as a dystopian thriller in the tradition of Margaret Atwood and Huxley, so I approached the book with the expectation that it lives in that genre, and found myself very disappointed.
(SPOILERS START HERE)
The device of the collective dream could hypothetically account for some of the issues within the dream. The prioritization of nuclear family structure despite the lack of procreation could easily be written off as a way that the dream panders to the values of the investors or reflects the values of the scientists creating it. The derivative and offensive narrative of the blind artist seeing visions beyond their own reality could also be written off similarly. The significant female characters are also stock-character stereotypes with not much compelling characterization or individuality. They can all be categorized into "love interest", "mother", or "daughter"— which I found derivative and frustrating.
That being said, the way the dream part of the book is written is reflective of the implicit biases of Cynthia, Proctor, and their billionaire supporters— not necessarily Cronin.
The difficulty with this is that the implicit biases continue outside the dream as well.
Outside the dream, there is no more narrative weight given to the female characters. There is no more sexuality diversity. Platonic bonds are given no more weight. There is no more ideological complexity.
The moment that felt like the truest dystopian choice was the revelation that Proctor intentionally stratified the dream society in order to ensure the working class scientists would kill the billionaires when the ship arrived. That was the single most interesting choice of the book for me.
From a Watsonian perspective, the derivative worldbuilding and antiquated, occasionally offensive character types make sense.
From a Doylist perspective, I'm just not terribly interested in what it's doing. Sci-fi that doesn't take into account diverse experiences, and that narratively prioritizes a milquetoast individual's experience over the far more interesting implications of his actions doesn't particularly appeal to me.
There were also parts of the dystopian world-building that didn't make sense to me. I left feeling like I missed some important exposition.
According to Bennett, there weren't any kids in the dream, but Darla (the maid) had an 8yo child? And it's implied that the Annex people could procreate despite the fact that everyone is in a dream? Are they actually procreating? If so, how? Additionally, Annex people don't seem to have access to the Nursery, so how do they fit within the dream mechanic of getting young again? Are they regular dying? If so, what is happening to their bodies? Are their children trained in the life-saving sciences that will be necessary when the ship arrives? The central conceit of the book is built around making the working class mad enough to eventually take down the ruling class, but the working class characters and world are given such little narrative significance and attention that it's impossible to believe.
What it came down to for me was this: The Ferryman relies on a lot of tropes that haven't been as critically examined as they could be in order to tell a story that was not poorly told, but would probably be more effectively told with a little more critical understanding of the tools that the author chooses to use, and a little more attention to the class conflict the core of the story supposedly rests upon.
To my understanding, an effective dystopian novel illuminates social or political issues in innovative and compelling ways that raise complex questions in its audience. The Ferryman did none of those things.
If this book were a different genre, the weak ideological underpinnings would not have impacted my rating as severely, but ideological underpinnings are the beating heart of the dystopian genre.
I don't regret reading The Ferryman, but I wouldn't recommend it.
Overall, I enjoyed Cronin's prose. His writing style was interesting and the pacing was easy to keep reading. Occasionally Proctor will break into more poetic moments, which I thought were a fun addition to a character who doesn't have a ton of personality. I also felt like Cronin had a good sense of the pace at which to disseminate information to feed the mystery, and effectively laid the breadcrumb trail to the big twist. I expected the twist, but didn't have a complete picture of what the twist would be, which made a pretty effective volta when the moment arrived. I felt like was telegraphed, but not overly so.
That being said, the novel didn't really work for me. It's marketed as a dystopian thriller in the tradition of Margaret Atwood and Huxley, so I approached the book with the expectation that it lives in that genre, and found myself very disappointed.
(SPOILERS START HERE)
That being said, the way the dream part of the book is written is reflective of the implicit biases of Cynthia, Proctor, and their billionaire supporters— not necessarily Cronin.
The difficulty with this is that the implicit biases continue outside the dream as well.
Outside the dream, there is no more narrative weight given to the female characters. There is no more sexuality diversity. Platonic bonds are given no more weight. There is no more ideological complexity.
The moment that felt like the truest dystopian choice was the revelation that Proctor intentionally stratified the dream society in order to ensure the working class scientists would kill the billionaires when the ship arrived. That was the single most interesting choice of the book for me.
From a Watsonian perspective, the derivative worldbuilding and antiquated, occasionally offensive character types make sense.
From a Doylist perspective, I'm just not terribly interested in what it's doing. Sci-fi that doesn't take into account diverse experiences, and that narratively prioritizes a milquetoast individual's experience over the far more interesting implications of his actions doesn't particularly appeal to me.
There were also parts of the dystopian world-building that didn't make sense to me. I left feeling like I missed some important exposition.
According to Bennett, there weren't any kids in the dream, but Darla (the maid) had an 8yo child? And it's implied that the Annex people could procreate despite the fact that everyone is in a dream? Are they actually procreating? If so, how? Additionally, Annex people don't seem to have access to the Nursery, so how do they fit within the dream mechanic of getting young again? Are they regular dying? If so, what is happening to their bodies? Are their children trained in the life-saving sciences that will be necessary when the ship arrives? The central conceit of the book is built around making the working class mad enough to eventually take down the ruling class, but the working class characters and world are given such little narrative significance and attention that it's impossible to believe.
What it came down to for me was this: The Ferryman relies on a lot of tropes that haven't been as critically examined as they could be in order to tell a story that was not poorly told, but would probably be more effectively told with a little more critical understanding of the tools that the author chooses to use, and a little more attention to the class conflict the core of the story supposedly rests upon.
To my understanding, an effective dystopian novel illuminates social or political issues in innovative and compelling ways that raise complex questions in its audience. The Ferryman did none of those things.
If this book were a different genre, the weak ideological underpinnings would not have impacted my rating as severely, but ideological underpinnings are the beating heart of the dystopian genre.
I don't regret reading The Ferryman, but I wouldn't recommend it.