Take Me With You by Catherine Ryan Hyde (audio)

I’m pretty blown away by this one, which seems to have hit me just exactly right.

We begin in scene, and put together details as we find them. A man named August is living, with his little dog Woody, in his RV where it is parked at a car repair shop; he wanted very badly to make it to Yellowstone this summer, but the cost of these repairs may make that impossible. He waits and worries. The mechanic, Wes, wonders if they might make a deal. His two young sons play with August’s dog. The two men talk. Wes is about to go into jail for a 90-day sentence and has no one to watch his boys. He suggests that Yellowstone may still be possible: he’ll do the repair gratis if August will take his sons away for the summer. This is a crazy idea on its face, of course. August is a stranger to Wes. But off we go.

August is a high school science teacher, and a recovering alcoholic, grieving the loss of his nineteen-year-old son almost two years previous. It doesn’t take much to put together that August will be moved by two slightly damaged, very sweet young boys (it’s not like August’s son was ever twelve or seven years old, August’s gruff AA sponsor points out with dry sarcasm), or that the boys, twelve-year-old Seth and seven-year-old Henry, are in need of a patient, stable father figure. Wes, it turns out, is an alcoholic.

August wondered if his job would be different if kids looked up at him with eager faces. And if even these two kids would have been the slightest bit eager for a science lesson if they had been in school. Maybe the school was the problem, August thought. Maybe everybody wants a science lesson if they’re sitting in the middle of one of the greatest geothermal wonders of the world. Maybe we’ve removed all the relevance from the information we teach kids so they have no idea why they should care. Maybe it’s not the kids’ fault. Maybe we made the first mistake. “I’ll start with geysers,” he said.

The odd threesome (foursome, with Woody, who has much to offer) have a pretty great summer together, although punctuated by the challenges of August’s grieving and the boys’ pain. When Wes has gone to jail before, they entered a county facility, and Henry hasn’t spoken since. He speaks, very little, but does eventually speak, to August. The bond is delicate but undeniable. But he’ll have to take them home again.

Take Me With You is gorgeous, wise, funny, heartbreaking, and a lovely evocation of natural beauty in several of our national parks, and of the pain and joy of making connections across grief and trauma. We meet a few indelible characters along the way (and the AA community looks awfully good in this context, really), but mostly it revolves around August, Seth, and Henry, with Wes coming in for the occasional hard edge. There are no villains and no real heroes, although August’s impact on these two young lives is significant.

Everybody is a good person and a bad person at the same time. The only real variation is in the balance.

Jeff Cummings’ narration feels pretty spot-on to me, capturing voices like that gruff AA sponsor, troubled Wes, and the timid cartoon mouse of young Henry’s rare words, as well as August’s careful, intentional slowing down to take questions seriously even when it hurts. The novel is contemplative, lovely in its descriptions, and cautious about coming to conclusions. Some of the relationships it describes are impossibly tender. I would love to continue to know these characters, and will be thinking about this book for a long time. It’s been a special journey; I think it’s going to be one of my favorite books this year.


Rating: 9 pictures.

Miss Kopp Just Won’t Quit by Amy Stewart (audio)

Here we have book four in the Kopp Sisters series, and I think I’m more and more bought in with each one. There’s a trajectory here. As ever, I’m not sure how much of it is about differences in the books, and how much is me. I always find this a fascinating question, about beers and mountain bike trails and everything else: how much has it changed, and how much is my taste buds / skill level / preferences? We can never know. Thank you for making it through that moment of philosophy, and now the novel.

If anything, Miss Kopp Just Won’t Quit takes a step further from the mystery or puzzle sort of plot, and (while absolutely telling a story about Deputy Kopp and her work) considers the time and time in which it is set.

…the sheriff maintained his posture of unruffled detachment.

I, on the other hand, was the very opposite of unruffled. John Courter was, in every way, a small-minded, petty, vindictive man unworthy of public office. I didn’t care to stand at the edge of a crowd and listen to him hurl insults and lies at us.

What made it worse, though, was that the crowd seemed to love it. It was an uncertain time in Bergen County: there was labor unrest in the factories, a mistrust of immigrants who might be German sympathizers, and the very real fear that a munitions depot might go up like so many crates of firecrackers at the hands of secret agents of the Kaiser. And most of all, there was the absolute terror of war – a war we surely couldn’t avoid much longer.

These people were looking for an enemy, and John Courter had one on offer.

Constance has been at work as a sheriff’s deputy for a while now. She’s been involved in investigations and arrests, including wrestling in the streets with male criminals (she would be affronted that that even needs pointing out). She’s cared for the female inmates at the jail, which includes basic food-and-shelter sort of needs as well as something we might call counseling, and questioning. She has pioneered a system of probation that (with the help of a friendly judge) allows women whose crimes are minor, or that shouldn’t count as crimes at all, to keep their freedom, work, and contribute to society. In a world that still isn’t sure women should do this sort of work, she has not only had some real successes, she’s also gotten to contemplate and enact improvements in the system. She’s the breadwinner for her household of three adult women, with her sister Norma and her ‘sister’ (biological daughter) Fleurette. And in that last role, she has also undertaken some thoughtful changes and modernizations. All of this is arguably made possible by her supportive boss, Sheriff Heath.

Thus the great conflict of this novel: the sheriff is an elected position, and Heath is term-limited. A change is coming for Constance either way, but the two men running for election offer rather different outcomes for her: bad and worse. The shift away from police work and into politics pleases no one – not Sheriff Heath, not Deputy Kopp, and not the reader. But here we are. Constance loves her work, and has found a comfortable place in the world, where she feels good about what she can contribute. In a nutshell, Miss Kopp Just Won’t Quit is about what she’ll do when continuing on that path is no longer an option. It’s terribly sad, but it’s also heartening to see her come to terms. Not all reviewers agree with me, but I really liked the ending, and I can’t wait to see what she’ll do in book five.


Rating: 8 first names.

Brothersong by TJ Klune (audio)

As ever, here you will find spoilers from previous books in the series. And, well, I’m revealing the ‘ship of this novel, but that will surprise no one who read book three.


I love these books and am very sad that the series is over.

Each of four books has focused on the development of a certain couple, and the development of one of the two characters in particular. Wolfsong was Ox’s story, and followed his relationship with Joe. Ravensong was Gordo, and his with Mark. Heartsong followed Robbie on his way back to Kelly. Now Brothersong sees Carter, eldest of the Bennett brothers, move fully into his relationship with Gavin. As the final book, it also wraps the whole larger story, and circles back around to Ox, who has become arguably the heart of the Bennett pack. I laughed, I cried.

I prefer this cover image

One of the things I love most about the Carter-and-Gavin development is that Carter has, until recently, thought he was a straight man. None of the other three couples seemed to struggle with being men attracted to men, although Ox dated some girls before deciding he was bi (or pan – I think they used the term bi). Carter is over 30 and has always been clear that women were for him. But now it is finally clear to Carter (as it has been clear to literally everyone else in his life for years) that his mate – the wolfish term for a deeply felt life partner and soulmate – is Gavin. Carter is a member of ‘like, the gayest pack ever’ (their words), with two gay brothers, etc., etc., and that’s all fine with him, but he’d never expected to be trying to figure out sex with a man himself. He’s both fine with it and quite shaken, and nervous about the actual sex part. I find this a fascinating line of inquiry. Not least, I’ve always wondered how I’d do if I found myself in love with a woman (hasn’t happened yet); I feel like I understand his confusion. And when I talk to young people these days I think about keeping our language open, and I admire the fluidity or the lack of labels that they seem to enjoy. Something about this aspect of the story really appealed to me.

Klune continues to engage me with action, intrigue, drama, pain, love, and yes, sex; I love that we can laugh in the middle of a very compelling sex scene. And he also continues to play with my feelings, threatening to off a major-major character, not for the first time. We continue to learn the rules of this werewolfed world. We have human heroes as well as werewolf ones (not that that’s new). And the pack continues to develop and grow.

I am bereft that this is over. I will miss these people forever. All the kudos to Kirt Graves, as ever.


Rating: 8 sparkles.

Miss Kopp’s Midnight Confessions by Amy Stewart (audio)

I continue to feel deeply involved with the indefatigable Miss Kopp and her earnest pursuit of betterment for herself, her sisters, and her community.

Following closely on the events of Lady Cop Makes Trouble, Constance Kopp efforts at the Bergen County Jail to keep her female inmates safe, in line, and pointed toward rehabilitation. She continues to enjoy a good relationship with Sheriff Heath, whose progressive ideals inspire her. It’s 1916, and times are changing: much of Miss Kopp’s Midnight Confessions deals with the options of young women to make their own way in the world, in terms of work and housing. (Other lifestyle choices remain yet more controversial.) Edna Heustis, for instance, left home to go to work in a munitions factory, patriotically hoping to contribute to the war effort as her brothers prepare to go fight in France. She lives in a respectable (strict) boarding house for young factory-working women like herself – and yet is arrested for waywardness, because her mother would rather she stay home and keep house. Minnie Davis left home with the (perhaps slightly less righteous) ambition of having a little fun and getting out from under her parents’ thumb. Shacked up with a young man she’s not married to, working in a mill and drinking at night, Minnie is likewise subject to criminal charges, just because she’s interested in flexing the moral boundaries of her day. (Minnie and Constance both repeat the question: why isn’t the young man locked up for ‘waywardness’ or ‘moral depravity’ as well?)

Constance feels strongly about defending the rights of women like Edna and Minnie to find their own paths in a changing world. But when it’s Fleurette who wants to leave home and work for a living, and maybe have a little fun – well. Constance’s values will be put to the test. And Norma is even less ready to entertain looser restraints on the youngest Kopp sister.

Norma’s lips worked furiously over her composition. From time to time a word escaped: presumptuous, unconscionable, iniquitous, abhorrent. She took a breath and continued: indecorous, opportunistic, unprincipled, opprobrious.

Fleurette had been right not to breathe a word of her plans to her sisters. Nothing – not a tour with a theater troupe, and certainly not an offer of marriage – stood a chance against Norma’s formidable vocabulary of refusal.

It’s one of Amy Stewart’s greatest strengths that she can tell such complex, fascinating, moving stories about history and women’s rights, alongside absolutely laugh-out-loud funny moments, perfectly played by audio-narrator Christina Moore.

I love the interplay of serious (and true historical) issues with family dynamics and simple human struggle. These moments can be both funny and serious.

Constance had grown to count on Norma to be that domestic presence who sat in the parlor and disapproved of things. She did not, however, like to find Norma disapproving of things at [Constance’s] place of employment, and wished she knew how to discourage the habit.

I’m still having a riotous good time, and simultaneously, enjoying considering some hefty issues through the lens of these expertly drawn mysteries. Three cheers for Amy Stewart, and on to the next one.


Rating: 8 trinkets.

Lady Cop Makes Trouble by Amy Stewart (audio)

It’s been years since I listened to Girl Waits with Gun, and I guess I’d forgotten all about it*, but I’m so happy to have now rediscovered Stewart’s work. I love Constance Kopp: subversive, contrary, big and strong, determined to do the work she sees fit. As we left her, Miss Kopp lives in the New Jersey countryside with her two sisters: no-nonsense Norma, who loves her carrier pigeons and has strong opinions about everything but rarely leaves the farm; and Fleurette, young, flighty, fashion-forward, and yearning to live in a wider world. (Also, Fleurette is not in fact a sister but Constance’s own daughter, although I still don’t think she knows it.)

Lady Cop Makes Trouble offers us two main mystery plotlines, but also importantly follows the home lives of the Kopp sisters and of Sheriff Heath. Following the events of that earlier book, Constance is proud to be employed as a sheriff’s deputy in her rural county. She was promised a badge, but that’s now in jeopardy because, predictably, the 1915 New Jersey public (not least, the sheriff’s wife) is not sure about having a “lady” deputy (or a “girl” one), let alone Constance’s take on the job, which involves wrestling suspects to the grimy ground, whether in New Jersey or New York City. It’s quite unfortunate, then, that Constance happens to be the one on duty guarding an inmate who escapes from custody – never mind that he’d faked a debilitating injury and was in the hospital, during a power outage and a mass casualty event, and the (male) deputy who was supposed to be on duty had defected. It just goes to prove to those who wanted it proved, that Constance is unfit. Worse, it goes a ways toward making Constance question her fitness. She ramps up her devotion to the job in hunting down the fugitive – sometimes crossing over into insubordination in her enthusiasm. I found it interesting to see the conflict between following orders and Doing Right, especially as Sheriff Heath has always been a sympathetic character. And here we see him face some difficulties of his own.

The manhunt is the main mystery-plot-driver, but there is also a secondary puzzle of a case involving one of the female prisoners Constance is in charge of, a woman whose murder confession is being questioned. I like this second line for the foundation I think it might offer for future books.

*I had also forgotten that I wasn’t a huge fan of that first book, apparently, but I’m glad I did forget this. Something changed – about the books, about me? – and I was on board with the pace this time around. I can’t explain to you whether it got snappier or I got more patient, but this reader and this series have come into sync. (Stewart did bring this one down to 320 pages.) A benefit to my long hiatus: there are now seven books in the series! Oh, good.

I was once again pleased by Christina Moore’s narration, and appreciated the same things I did in that earlier review: historical setting and detail; some very funny exchanges, between the Kopp sisters but also Constance with many others; characters; and now pacing. I am already on to book three, with no more qualms.


Rating: 7 nights in a cell.

Brigands and Breadknives by Travis Baldree (audio)

I am crazy about these books, and their narration (by the author, who has more audio-narration credits than author ones to his name). This is the third in the Legends and Lattes series, and there is a collection of related short stories promised which I am definitely excited for, but I deeply wish for more novels!

As a series, I find the chronology interesting and a little unusual. In Legends and Lattes, we saw Viv end her mercenary career and open a coffee shop (bravely, in a town that had never heard of coffee). As far as Viv’s storyline, we left her fairly settled – no obvious sequel there. So, instead, book two, Bookshops and Bonedust, rewound time and saw a young Viv, early in the career we have seen her leave behind. She faced a different challenge there, and resolved it as she made an important new friend – and then rode off into the sunset to make an earnest go of that mercenary career. (We have now seen her start it, and end it, but the time itself is still largely untouched. Maybe that’s where another novel fits!) In book three, we now follow up with Fern, the friend Viv made in book two and then parted from. Years later – following Viv’s successful coffee shop, marriage, and settling – they reunite. And then Fern goes off on her own adventures, leaving Viv largely outside of the narrative. So firstly, as a series, I find this one fascinating in its sequencing. I like it fine. I wonder about the author’s creation process, and suspect he’s one of those who discovers his stories as they unfold for him, no plotting. Whatever it is, it’s working!

So. Fern, years after the events of Bookshops, has left her bookshop and her lifelong home behind. It will take much of the book to clearly label what she’s experienced: depression, ennui, boredom? In some desperation to find a new spark, she takes an old friend – Viv – up on an offer via correspondence, and travels to the city of Thune with an elderly Pot Roast in tow. They reunite, it is wonderful, and Viv (and Tandri and Cal and Thimble) help set Fern up in a new bookshop. But this does not solve her existential suffering. And so Fern gets drunk and flees: specifically, she semi-on-purpose goes to sleep in the cart of wildly famous, centuries-old hero Astryx One-Ear, the Oathmaiden, a warrior elf of great renown. Thus she stows away and becomes a member of a rollicking expedition to transport the bounty prisoner Zyll, an orange-haired goblin, across the Territories.

The motley crew is then made up of Astryx (ancient elf warrior), Fern (former-bookseller rattkin), Zyll (goblin criminal of few but hilarious words), occasionally a demonic chicken sort of thing, Astryx’s fabled Elder Blade, Nigel, who is sentient and talks (quite a lot), and eventually a former Elder Blade which has been “diminished” into a breadknife. He winds up with Fern, who calls him Breadlee. They encounter courtly and polite antagonists as well as murderous and duplicitous ones. The ending is a wonderful and wildly funny surprise. Zyll’s one-liners are K I L L I N G me; I can’t stop thinking about her.

These books are funny, sweet, thoughtful, imaginative, and totally absorbing. Please, Travis, please, write more of this world.


Rating: 8 pieces of paper.

The Astral Library by Kate Quinn (audio)

I don’t recall where I got this book recommended, but it was likely this enticing Shelf review by my colleage Katie. And what’s not to like: escaping into magical libraries, with some fantastical threats to manage, but also, spinning off into fictional worlds and making a difference. I found the start a little slow, or a little negative: we meet Alix on a truly bad day. A twenty-something aged out of the foster system, alone in the world, broke, she loses one of her three terrible jobs, gets her hours cut at another, and finds out her bank account has been hacked, making her measly $36.82 unavailable to her. Oh, and she gets kicked out of her shitty apartment. The one bright note is that the handsome Beau Sato-Jones, who runs a sumptuous boutique making lush historical costumes, needs her to work a couple of bookkeeping hours. The reader suspects that he think of Alix as an actual friend, but she doesn’t seem to take that seriously. And so, like so many bookish desperates before her, Alix heads to the library. There, she stumbles through a door.

From here, Alix finds the Astral Library and meets the Librarian. She learns of the option to live inside a book’s world – every bookworm’s dream, we are told (strangely, I’m not sure I’ve fantasized about this, although I’ll keep considering) – and is wholeheartedly ready to make the leap. But strange happenings in the Astral Library inspire her to instead ally herself with the Librarian. Alix becomes, however temporarily, a page. She travels to Arthur Conan Doyle’s London, and onward. On her way to finding her own home in a fictional world, she inhabits many, eventually making the cause of the Astral Library her own. And Beau will of course reappear, because obviously traveling to the worlds of Brontë and Austen require costume changes, and wouldn’t you know it, the Astral Library’s costuming department was getting threadbare.

As I said, the beginning of this book had me a bit down, with Alix’s string of unlikely and dour bad luck. But as soon as we hit that world of magic (and a delightfully grumpy Librarian), things picked up considerably. Alix’s crusade against bureaucracy, in defense of human rights, and centrally, in favor of the lofty raison d’être of libraries themselves can feel a bit pat, for those who have dwelt in this righteous space for a while; but honestly, it’s still not stale. There is a rousing speech or two, in advance of a satisfying ending.

The Astral Library has notes of romance, plenty of luxuriating in the power of story, lavish costuming, body positivity, and badass librarians. Also some critique of technology, as well as double-crossings and pain, but all resolved at the finish. Saskia Maarleveld narrates with great style, and I also enjoyed Kate Quinn’s reading of her own author’s note, and a conversation between Quinn and Maarleveld. I savored this presentation, and this was a solid work of escapism (Alix’s favorite) as well as an indulgent soak in library love, fantasy-style. I’d do it all over again – and, if Quinn is listening, I’d love to spend more time with Alix.


Rating: 7 tablets.

The Reluctant Queen by Sarah Beth Durst (audio)

Following The Queen of Blood is The Reluctant Queen, at center position in this trilogy. I continue to admire Durst’s worldbuilding and characters, imagination, and the hard choices and moral gray areas she presents. On the other hand, the sedate pacing that I felt worked in the Spellshop series is getting a little less effective here.

I fully expected the title to refer to Queen Daleina, who took the crown at, I think, nineteen years old. Not the strongest heir to the throne – in fact, she might be the weakest in terms of pure magical power – she is the only survivor of the massacre in the coronation grove, and therefore the new Queen of Renthia. She was decidedly reluctant… but is not the titular character. Instead, here comes a big plot twist and a spoiler but from quite early in this novel: Daleina is sick, soon to die, and therefore Renthia needs a new heir on standby, stat – but, let’s review again from book one, all the other heirs were killed when Daleina became queen. So, unusually, there ensues a great big scramble for one. Here we learn that, before the academies where Daleina and her peers were trained, Renthia used to find its women and girls of power – its heirs – in an older way: the champions traveling the villages, looking for regular citizens. And so that’s what Champion Ven does here.

And he finds a gem. Naelin is a woodswoman, a wife (to a pretty worthless husband) and a mother to two young children. She has always kept her power hidden, believing it will only get her killed, as it did her mother before her. But when Ven discovers her, he finds that she is the most powerful woman he has ever known, even in her raw, untrained form. She is also staunchly opposed to taking on responsibility beyond her family unit. It takes much of the book to convince her that the sense of duty she feels toward her own children may need to expand to the entire land.

One thing this book kept me thinking about was the tension between ego and chest-thumping, and a true sense of service. I already said that Daleina struck me as a pretty reluctant queen in her own right; by contrast to Naelin, she was there on purpose, training with the specific goal of maybe becoming queen, but not because she thought she deserved it or was owed it or wanted the glory. She struck me as being always clear that it would be a burden, a responsibility, and it was about keeping people safe, not about promoting herself – in contrast to the previous queen, and to some of her classmates at the academy (one in particular). Naelin is even more reluctant, resistant to helping anyone she did not birth herself – at a level that eventually felt pretty selfish to me, in fact. I felt a little impatient with her slowness to realize that queendom is not a prize, but a responsibility; and in turn, those around her who were in a position to advise, never took this tack directly enough for my tastes.

Some of this is due to the classic need, in storytelling, to hold back the revelation of certain details. Some of this is due to an accurate portrayal of human nature. But I sometimes felt like we could have moved things along a little more quickly than we did. Durst excels in painting a picture, a scene, and an inner turmoil. Sometimes she may indulge in a little more of that than serves her story. Especially when we got into some really high-stakes action episodes, I think we could move past the inner monologue, and especially when the inner monologues were reviews of character elements already very well established throughout the book.

I’m still stoked on these characters and the stakes of their world, and excited about where Durst chose to leave the plot hanging for book three – I’m genuinely invested in finding out what our queens will do next about the tricky situation we’ve left them in. So, a little impatient with pacing sometimes, but still in.


Rating: 7 cakes.

Heartsong by TJ Klune (audio)

As ever, here you will find spoilers from previous books in the series.


These are pure enjoyment and I can hardly stand the time I have to spend away from the Green Creek series on audio. Also, this image is the audiobook cover, but I do prefer the print version, below.

We spend this book with Robbie, and there is one big, early-ish spoiler that I think I’d like to preserve for any readers who are likely to get into the series, so we’ll do some white text below (highlight to read) and then keep the rest of this review brief. I’m keeping my spoilers to early in the book, still.

The book is told from Robbie’s point of view (as per usual), and in the early chapters, I was confused as to timeline, because he is with Michelle Hughes’ pack and apparently ignorant of the Bennetts, but also something is off. Does this precede the events in which Robbie meets the Bennetts, and importantly, Kelly? No: he has had his brain fucked with in a big way, his memories erased. While much of the book’s plot does handle issues that take place outside of Robbie’s head – werewolf wars and changes in the lives of other characters we’ve already come to care deeply for – the central and most important arc is interior. Robbie must rebuild his bonds with the Bennetts and with his mate, with those other players remembering their shared history and working hard not to take personally that Robbie does not. It’s excruciating.

What else to say? I’ve become very comfortable in and attached to both Klune’s storytelling style in this series, and Kirt Graves’ audio narration. These are the voices of these characters for me, and they do all have distinct voices: Robbie’s Chicago accent is pronounced, and that had been in previous books an occasional flavoring, but here is of course the main event. It took some getting used to. I salute Graves’ commitment to that acting. Also, I am no accent expert.

We end, obviously, on a major cliffhanger, with some of our favorites in grim circumstances. I’m barely holding on for book four.


Rating: 8 carvings.

The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill (audio)

Another wonderful story from Kelly Barnhill, and I’m so delighted to learn that there are many of them! Joy!

In mythic tones, we open with chapter 1: In Which a Story Is Told. (All chapters are titled this way.) “Yes. There is a witch in the woods. There has always been a witch in the woods. Will you stop your fidgeting for once?” Some chapters are voiced like this one, with an unnamed storyteller addressing an unnamed child (we get some hints as to their identities only very late); others are more traditional third-person narration. We begin in the Protectorate, a place ruled by fog and cloud and sorrow, where the Elders, led by Grand Elder Gherland, uphold an important tradition. Once a year, on the Day of Sacrifice, they place the community’s youngest baby in a circle of sycamores in the dangerous woods to be taken by an evil witch, that she not destroy everything. The Elders are supported by the Sisters of the Star, who dwell in the Tower, holding all knowledge and skill; they are formidable warriors as well as scholars, mysterious and separate from the rest of the Protectorate, whose citizens, if not Elders, live in poverty and deprivation. We are also informed early on that Grand Elder Gherland knows there is no witch. The sacrifices are instead meant to keep the people subjugated and sad and under the thumb of the Elders.

But we also watch while a witch – a kindhearted, helpful witch, who lives in service to those around her – travels through the woods to collect this year’s sacrificed infant. She has no idea why the Protectorate’s people insist on doing this silly, cruel thing, abandoning infants in the woods, but each year she makes the trip and carries the infant, keeping them safe, warm, and fed, through the woods to the people in the Free Cities on the other side, where she rehomes them with loving families and they grow up safe, happy, loved. So there is a witch, and she does take the babies, but not like the Protectorate thinks.

The witch is Xan, and she is 500 years old. There is a bog monster named Glerk who is poetry-obsessed and much, much older, older even than magic. They are accompanied, in their lives deep in the woods by the bog, by a dragonling named Fyrian, who is just still very small (despite also being 500 years old), but believes himself to be simply enormous, because Xan and Glerk let him think he is – they say that they are giants. These are all characters of love, whimsy, silliness, and good humor, as well as of profound good. They are joined by Luna, the latest abandoned baby, whom Xan accidentally enmagics. And as the story unfolds, we also follow Grand Elder Gherland (not a sympathetic character); his nephew Antain, who wants for the Protectorate to do better; Sister Ignatia, head of all the sisters, who has a murky past; and a mother who becomes a madwoman in a tower but can be so much more. This is a grand fairy tale of a story, with dark, scary woods, dragons, volcanoes, sacrifices born of fear and of love, tigers, shapeshifting, paper birds, devotion, magic, built families… it’s a gorgeous book about everything. The beast, the bog, the poem, the world: “they are all the same thing, you know.” “I am the bog and the bog is me.”

I was reminded of “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” and “The Lottery,” most obviously in the early, baby-sacrifice scenes, but throughout with certain metaphors about what loyalty is earned to whom, and who should give up personal priorities for a greater good. There were several delicious layers of dramatic irony and miscommunication, and misdirection about who the bad guys are (‘guys’ in this case being gender-neutral, obviously). I found it a lovely story about goodness, courage, love, and the many ways we care for one another and make families. Like one of our protagonists here, I have also struggled with the observation that “there is no love without loss,” but Barnhill makes an argument that it’s worth it. Christina Moore narrates tremendously. I’m such a fan. Do check it out.


Rating: 9 bunnies.

PS: I found out after the fact that this is billed as a book ‘for young readers’ and was quite surprised. That is, all violence and threat of violence is quite tame – baby ‘sacrifices’ entail just placing them gently in the woods where they are collected safely, and the worst injury suffered is a bunch of paper cuts (like, the worst paper cuts of all time) – but I found the themes complex and thought-provoking. I was thinking of this as a work of great imagination and whimsy, not one for young readers (I’m seeing ages 8+, and grades 5-9). So, take this as a strong recommendation for all readers.