“Drowned Country” by Emily Tesh

I enjoyed Emily Tesh’s debut novella Silver in the Wood and was excited to read this follow-up. I love the idea that the forest “remembers” all the land it used to cover, allowing Tobias to access the past of the forest.

I also liked how this book dealt with the fae. The descriptions of the eerie, desolate landscape of Faerie were vivid, and it felt like a unique take on this mythology.

Tesh has moved on to a very different genre with her novel Some Desperate Glory, but I hope she returns to the world of the Greenhollow Duology. I would love to read more stories about these characters.

“A Prayer for the Crown-Shy” by Becky Chambers

I greatly enjoyed the first installment in Becky Chambers’s “Monk and Robot” series, A Psalm for the Wild-Built. The story continues with A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, in which the tea monk Sibling Dex travels around Panga with the robot Mosscap. Mosscap seeks an answer to the question, “What do humans need?”

I loved seeing the different kinds of communities on Panga. All of them are built on a profound respect both for other people and for the natural world, but they span a wide range of aesthetics and ideologies in other ways. The Monk and Robot books are definitely cozy sci-fi, and this one felt like a travelogue. It was a fun, relaxing read, and Dex and Mosscap were both endearing characters.

Coziness doesn’t mean a complete lack of tension, though. Dex first ventured into the wilderness where they met Mosscap because of a deep dissatisfaction with their life. Although there are moments in the book where they find happiness and contentment, some of that dissatisfaction remains. As a tea monk, they’ve focused their life on helping others, and now they’re aiding Mosscap’s quest to understand what other humans need. But Dex hasn’t, until now, really applied that question to themself. Ultimately, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy is a book about the importance of self-care.

I don’t know whether Chambers is planning to write more works in this setting, but I hope she is. I’ve had a lot of fun following Dex and Mosscap’s adventures, and I’d like to continue doing so.

“The House Next Door” by Anne Rivers Siddons

Most haunted house stories take place in old houses, the more crumbling the better. Anne Rivers Siddons’s The House Next Door is notable partly because the titular haunted house is brand new. At first, Colquitt Kennedy is upset when the lot next to her house, filled with lush vegetation, is purchased for the building of a new home. Her disappointment turns to happiness when she sees how beautiful the house is and befriends the architect who designed it. But that happiness curdles into horror as the house’s sinister aspect becomes apparent.

Maybe the most terrifying aspect of the house is the way it uses people’s own flaws or weaknesses against them. Sometimes that means drawing them back into bad habits they’ve worked to overcome. Sometimes it means driving a wedge into the pre-existing cracks in a family, widening them further. At first, it seems as if Colquitt would offer nothing for the house to latch on to. She’s a kind and generous person without any dark secrets in her past. But several times throughout the story, she wonders if some particular escalation of the house’s malice could have been avoided if she had done a certain thing. Each time, she concludes that it wouldn’t have changed anything. The repetitiveness made me wonder if she was trying to convince herself. Is it possible that passivity, or unwillingness to “cause a scene,” is a flaw that the house uses to get its hooks in Colquitt?

Siddons does a wonderful job of showing the relationships between the characters…and then showing how those relationships fall apart as the characters come under the house’s influence. Three couples inhabit the house over the course of the novel. The book could very easily become repetitive, but Siddons avoids that. Partially, she holds the reader’s interest through relentless escalation of the house’s malice. But another secret to the success of The House Next Door is that each family who buys the house is distinct from the others. Tolstoy wrote that “every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” All the families who move into the house start out with some underlying unhappiness that the house works on. But they aren’t the same. Siddons makes them feel like real people, not just “Future Evil House Victim #2,” so the tension and empathy felt by the reader don’t become dulled by repetition. The House Next Door deserves to stand alongside The Haunting of Hill House and The Shining as classics of the “haunted house/hotel/other dwelling” genre.

“Dragonfired” by J. Zachary Pike

I absolutely loved the two previous volumes in J. Zachary Pike’s Dark Profit Saga, so I was excited when Dragonfired came out. Pike continues to mix humor, adventure, and social commentary and brings the story of Gorm Ingerson and his fellow heroes to an exciting close.

There are a lot of story threads for Pike to manage here. The nature of the Leviathan Project, the legacy of the Sten’s long-ago betrayal, and the truth about the prophecies of Al’Matra all converge in this book. And not only does it work, it creates an explosive and emotionally moving climax.

Pike also gives a satisfying conclusion to the heroes’ character arcs. I was sad to say goodbye to Gorm, Kaitha, Jynn, and the rest but happy to see the culmination of their journeys. From Kaitha’s struggles with addiction, to Gorm learning that honor and reputation aren’t the same thing (and honor is the more important of the two), to Jynn and Laruna moving from animosity to trust, they all reached endings that felt right. I absolutely loved this series, and I hope Pike keeps writing.

“All the White Spaces” by Ally Wilkes

In Ally Wilkes’s historical horror novel, All the White Spaces, Jonathan Morgan joins an Antarctic expedition. There are dangers he expects: temperatures that can cause frostbite on exposed skin within minutes, whiteout blizzards that can make a person to become lost mere feet from their shelter, the psychological effects of isolation. But Morgan and the other expedition crew will also face a danger they couldn’t have anticipated: a malevolent presence that doesn’t want them in the Antarctic interior.

Jonathan has one additional challenge to face that the other crew members don’t: he’s trans. A close friend of his family has helped him to conceal his assigned sex at birth from the rest of the crew, but he knows that he’ll be sent home in disgrace if his secret is discovered. Seeing a trans main character in a historical novel might be surprising to some cisgender readers, but of course trans people have always existed. Wilkes uses Jonathan’s point of view to make it clear that Jonathan isn’t a woman disguising herself as a man to do something early 20^th century British society wouldn’t allow a woman to do; he consistently thinks of himself as a man. Wearing the bulky clothing necessary for Antarctic survival alleviates his dysphoria because it conceals the feminine shape of the body he was born with. He feels a sense of joy and relaxation when the other expedition members relate to him as a man. It was great to see such a thoughtful portrayal of a trans main character.

Wilkes is also a master of atmosphere. She captures the claustrophobia of the expedition’s cramped quarters, the oppressive darkness of the polar winter, and the intimidating vastness of the Antarctic wilderness. All of this combines with the supernatural menace to ratchet up the tension to an almost unbearable level. We also see how the environment plays on the pre-existing animosities between some of the expedition members. The more difficult merely surviving polar winter becomes, the closer those conflicts get to boiling over.

All the White Spaces is Wilkes’s debut novel. I look forward to more chilling (sorry, I had to) books from her in the future.

“A Guest in the House” by Emily Carroll

I first found Emily Carroll through the short comics on her website. Her eerie, unsettling stories captured my imagination enough that I eagerly bought her first print collection, Through the Woods. With A Guest in the House, Carroll moves into longer-form work, and it’s a great success.

The story of A Guest in the House reminded me of both Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca and the legend of Bluebeard. Abby is happy to be married after a lonely and solitary life. There’s some awkwardness between Abby and her new stepdaughter, who understandably is still grieving her deceased biological mother. But at night, there seems to be a presence in the house, and hints start to accumulate that Abby’s new husband may not be telling her the whole truth about how his first wife died.

One of the most striking things about this book is the use of color. Most of the pages are in black and white, but occasional panels or pages are done in vivid, almost psychedelic colors. Since most of these deal with the entity that seems to be haunting the house, this technique makes that entity feel even more otherworldly.

I really enjoyed this book, and I’ll look forward to whatever Carroll does next, whether that’s another collection or another long story.

“The Circumference of the World” by Lavie Tidhar

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for sending me an eARC in exchange for an honest review.

Lavie Tidhar has earned a great deal of acclaim for his novels Central Station and Neom, both set in a futuristic Tel Aviv replete with cybernetic implants, abandoned virtual pets, and androids. The Circumference of the World is a very different book. It follows three characters in the modern world, all searching for a book that may or may not exist. The book, written by a reclusive science-fiction author, is so beloved that it actually spawned a religion. Whether said religion is true or false, its premise is intriguing enough that the search for the book results in kidnapping and perhaps even murder.

While much of the book follows the three main characters, we also get an excerpt from the possibly-imaginary book Lode Stars and a section from the POV of its enigmatic author during his stint on a remote Pacific island in World War 2. This construction gives the novel a broad, wide-ranging feel. The excerpt from Lode Stars is a great excursion into Golden Age-style sci-fi, and the cosmology it posits is an interesting take on simulationism.

There were some elements of the story that I thought were underdeveloped, such as Daniel’s prosopagnosia. But overall, this was an interesting, thought-provoking book.

“The Mountain in the Sea” by Ray Nayler

Following up on well-received short fiction in magazines like Asimov’s and Clarkesworld, Ray Nayler explores different modes of intelligence in his first novel, The Mountain in the Sea. Dr. Ha Nguyen takes a job at a remote archipelago, studying a species of octopus that may be capable of language. One of her colleagues, Evrim, is a sapient android for whom the island is a sanctuary from a world that fears him. A young hacker offered a lucrative but dangerous job and a man trapped on a fishing ship that’s not as automated as it should be round out the main cast.

The book’s main theme is one that has been a preoccupation of science fiction for a long time, featuring in such iconic stories as Arrival and the “Darmok” episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation: How might we communicate with beings who think very differently than we do? With the expanded space of a novel, Nayler has the room to examine more than one such non-human intelligence, which allows him to highlight both the similarities and differences between them. The excerpts from Ha’s treatise about hypothetical (at the time she wrote it) intelligent cephalopods made me wish it was a real book. I liked how much thought Nayler put into the kinds of symbols octopuses might use and how their language might be influenced by both their anatomy and their environment.

I also appreciated the sheer variety of non-human minds Nayler included in the story. Aside from the octopuses, there’s Evrim, the first and so far only sapient android; several “automonks”, robots with personalities derived from those of human Buddhist monks; a holographic AI with a human-derived personality (but designed for companionship rather than spiritual contemplation as the automonks are); and an AI-driven fishing vessel. These differ from each other not only in their level of sophistication but also in the way they look at the world. There isn’t just one answer to the question, “What might a non-human intelligence look like?”

I did have one complaint about the book, which is somewhat spoilery, so I’ll put it under a spacer. But overall, The Mountain in the Sea continues the grand sci-fi tradition of “Big Idea novels.” That’s not to say there isn’t an interesting plot or compelling characters, because there are. But Nayler’s main project is examining a large and complex science-fictional question, and he succeeds wonderfully.

—SPOILERS—

I felt like Eiko’s storyline didn’t intersect with the others until too late in the story. If he meets Ha, Evrim, and Altantsetseg, it won’t happen until after the epilogue, off-page. While I was interested in his struggle for freedom and his relationship with Son, it felt disconnected from the larger story.

“The House in the Cerulean Sea” by T.J. Klune

Cozy fantasy is having a moment, with the wide acclaim for Travis Baldree’s Legends and Lattes and the opening of Tales and Feathers, a magazine dedicated to cozy fantasy. One could point to The House in the Cerulean Sea as the start of this trend. Described as “a hug in book form,” the novel follows Linus, a low-ranking employee of the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. His job is to evaluate orphanages housing young magical beings to make sure that they’re being cared for properly. His latest assignment is a special case, due to the extraordinary power of some of the orphanage’s children. That power could be dangerous not just to Linus, but to the whole world.

Klune does a wonderful job giving each child a distinct personality. Each of the six is from a different magical species, but that’s not all that differentiates them. One loves to garden. One enjoys listening to the music of the 1960s and 1970s. One wants to be a bellhop when he grows up. The kids were endearing, and it was easy to see why Linus comes to love them as much as he does.

I also enjoyed watching Linus’s character development over the course of the book. He starts the novel as an extremely by-the-book DICOMY employee, to the point where he reads the employee manual as recreation. He maintains a strict emotional distance from not only his fellow employees, but also the children at the orphanages he inspects. The only living being he truly has a connection with is his cat, Calliope. Over the course of his stay at the orphanage on Marsyas Island, Linus gradually finds himself drawn out of his shell. He loves sunflowers, and the blooming of a flower is actually a good metaphor for his transformation.

With such engaging characters, a message of acceptance, and a hopeful ending, it’s easy to see what The House in the Cerulean Sea became the vanguard of the cozy fantasy movement. This was a lovely book that I truly enjoyed reading.

“To Shape a Dragon’s Breath” by Moniquill Blackgoose

Like people the world over, the Masquisit used to bond with dragons. But generations ago, most of their dragons died, leaving them vulnerable to Anglish conquerors. When Anqeus becomes the first Masquisit in many decades to bond with a dragon hatchling, the Anglish insist that she attend one of their schools for dragon-riders. Fearing the consequences if she refuses, and also determined to be the best possible partner for her dragon, Anequs agrees. At Frau Kuiper’s school, she has to contend with difficult academic studies, unfamiliar customs, and the prejudices of her fellow students and the professors. If she fails, her dragon Kasaqua will be put down. If she succeeds, she may just be able to change the world.

I loved the dragons in this book, and especially the concept for how their breath works. Rather than simply being an elemental blast, a dragon’s breath enacts an alchemy-like transmutation on anything it touches. Dragon-riders (called dragoneers by the Anglish and nampeshiweisit by the Masquisit) can learn to guide this transformation to control what is produced.

To Shape a Dragon’s Breath tackles the weighty subject of colonialism head-on. The Masquisit, Naquisit, and other Indigenous peoples, have been driven off most of their traditional homelands. Some of them—including one of Anequs’s uncles—were killed for resisting. The Anglish don’t always respect treaties they make with the Indigenous nations. When Anequs arrives at the school for dragoneers, she’s confronted by overt prejudice from some members of the community, willingness to welcome her if she conforms to Anglish social traditions from others, and well-meaning ignorance from still others. Despite all this, Anequs doesn’t give up hope. Her determination and resilience, and her growing confidence in herself, allow her to build alliances and to regain some of the knowledge her people have lost.

While there are clear parallels between the history of the world in Dragon’s Breath and real-world European history, there are also some major differences (besides the presence of dragons). The Anglish society of the book seems to have been heavily influenced by Scandinavian culture: the major gods worshipped are Joden and Fyra, and there’s an important holiday called Valkyrjafax. Perhaps this world’s analog of Alfred the Great didn’t win the decisive victory against the Danes that the real-world Alfred did? Scientific terms are derived from German rather than Latin, which also suggests a different history for the development of scientific methodology. This combination of familiarity and difference made the setting very interesting.

My one quibble has to do with something I mentioned briefly earlier: Anequs rediscovering knowledge her people had lost during the Great Dying (which killed many humans as well as dragons) and subsequent subjugation by the Anglish. Putting that recovered knowledge to practical use seemed like it would be the natural climax of the book, and that didn’t happen. This was still a very exciting and enjoyable book, and I look forward to seeing what larger impact Anequs’s discovery has in the sequel.