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.

The Queen of Blood by Sarah Beth Durst (audio)

I’m so taken by Durst’s Spellshop series that I had to find more, while she works on book three. The Queen of Blood is a departure in one way most of all: as is right there in the title, this one is a fair bit more bloodthirsty. I found it also intriguing and thought-provoking, and I’m looking forward to the next two in this trilogy as well, but make no mistake, this is not the cozy fantasy that Spellshop is. This is a fantasy about the things that are out there to get us, with a note of Hunger Games.

We meet Daleina first when she is six years old, and we see her come out lucky – or special – several times in her youth, when those around her are not so lucky. Because of these experiences, and for the sake of her dear parents and her beloved little sister, who believes in the elder sister’s ability, Daleina chooses to compete to attend one of her land’s special academies. There she will develop her affinity for calling and hopefully controlling the spirits. In Renthia, where Daleina lives, spirits animate all ‘natural’ forces: fire, ice, water, air, earth, trees. The spirits want two things: to create (which is why we have fire to cook with, and wind, and plant life), and to destroy – humans, in particular. The spirits hate humans, but they also need the balance provided by human control. Thus the land is ruled by a queen, chosen for her ability to manage the spirits. Queens are chosen from heirs, who are chosen from candidates, who are trained in the academies. (These are all women, as only women have affinity for spirits, although men may serve as champions and protectors.) Daleina is not terribly powerful, but she is highly motivated, and she brings an unusual perspective to her training. Her drive to protect her loved ones brings her into the orbit of the standing queen, Fara, whose powers may be waning; and the disgraced champion Ven, whose complicated past and secret campaign to save lives even in exile will impact Daleina’s own trajectory. Despite the highly competitive nature of their training, Daleina will form profound friendships with her classmates at the academy. She will encounter a chance at love. And she will risk everything for that oldest goal: to keep her little sister, and everyone else she loves, safe.

I was captivated by Khristine Hvam’s narration, with all the voices you could want (including those of fictional creatures). It’s a world to get lost in, with high stakes, double crossings and intrigue, romance and terrible danger, and the usual pains of coming of age. There was plenty to think about, and I’m looking forward to more – but this is a decidedly blood-soaked story, if that’s of any concern.

Love the imagination on Durst, and will be continuing to follow her.


Rating: 7 pies.

Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan (audio)

This was a wild one, recommended by Liz, and very deservingly so. I’ve been putting off writing this review and have realized I just need to come to terms with not doing it justice. Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore is about the intersections and tensions between literature and technology; about love and friendship and belonging; about problem-solving and teamwork; and about the big questions of life.

In contemporary, post-Covid times, we meet Clay Jannon, who after art school went to work for NewBagel in an initially promising techy design/PR/marketing career position, but NewBagel (following an attempted rebranding as the Old Jerusalem Bagel Company) went bust, and Clay’s been out of work at a rough time to be out of work in San Francisco. Then he happens upon Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore, where he is hired by the elderly, twinkling, mysterious Penumbra as a night clerk. From 10pm until 6am, Clay sits at the front desk among the short shelves of used books, which he very infrequently sells to the very infrequent customer. A little more regularly, he is called upon to help card-carrying members of an enigmatic club to access the very different volumes on what he thinks of as the Waybacklist. The bookstore is long, skinny, and vertical, with very tall shadowy shelves accessible by vertiginous ladders. The books on those shelves are in code.

Clay is an engrossing narrator of this story, so self-deprecating that the reader is nearly as late as he is to realize that he can be quite a resourceful problem-solver. He is lucky (or is it luck?) to be surrounded by an assortment of talented, eccentric friends: his best friend since sixth grade, the once-doofy now-millionaire CEO of Anatomix; his roommate, a special effects wizard; the cute girl he meets along the way, a Google-employed genius; a fellow Penumbra clerk and archaeology graduate student; and more. These are just some of the characters (in every sense of the word) who come to Clay’s aid as he tried to solve the many, layered mysteries of Penumbra’s. What is in the coded books in the Waybacklist? Who are the people who come in the night to borrow them? Each question’s answer only unlocks more questions, and the stakes keep getting higher. It evolves into a quest narrative, reaching beyond Penumbra’s compelling bookstore. Clay and company wind up chasing, among other things, a centuries-old and seemingly insoluble riddle, which will involve Clay’s childhood favorite sci fi/fantasy series, a secret society, and the history of one of the world’s best-known typefaces.

At just 8 hours audio (or around 300 pages), Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore feels far more all-encompassing than such a neat package would imply. It’s one of those stories that feels like it’s about everything at once, which I love. Also, books and bibliophilia, even in the face of wild technologic advances: what’s not to love? Ari Fliakos narrates with great energy and personality; I wholeheartedly pass on Liz’s recommendation of the format as well as the book itself. I’ll be looking for more in the Penumbraverse.


Rating: 9 red t-shirts.

A Witch’s Guide to Magical Innkeeping by Sangu Mandanna (audio)

Loving everything I’ve read by Sangu Mandanna, but **especially** The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches, I was delighted to hear about this new one on audio. Thanks, Liz!

This is quite in the spirit of that other title, with themes of family, love, belonging, finding one’s own tribe, and owning one’s own strengths, weaknesses, and specialties. When we meet her, Sera Swan is a teenaged witch in training. More or less abandoned by her parents, she lives with her much beloved great aunt Jasmine at the Batty Hole Inn, which they run together. They have recently been joined by a witch in fox’s clothing (she is trapped in a fox’s body after a spell gone wrong) named Clemmie. When Jasmine dies in the garden, Clemmie gives Sera the spell to resurrect her, which Sera quickly does. She is probably the most powerful witch in all of Britain – despite being a girl, and still young, and most upsettingly to those in charge, a half-Icelandic, half-Indian, nonwhite person (the British Guild of Sorcery being as stodgy and, yes, racist as we might expect it to be). Jasmine is indeed brought back to life, along with (accidentally) her long-dead pet rooster, Roo-Roo, a mere rooster skeleton but avidly underfoot. But this great powerful spell has cost Sera virtually all of her magical power. This is devastating, because Sera loves her magic. Because the resurrection spell was not strictly legal, Sera has been exiled from the Guild to boot. (None of this is especially spoiler-y as it all takes place in the first few pages.)

Fast forward, and an adult Sera remains at Jasmine’s side, managing the Batty Hole Inn with much frustration, creative cursing, and precious little magic. She still mourns what she has lost, and thinks constantly about how to regain her power. But she is lucky to have Aunt Jasmine, for one – and Roo-Roo – and a motley crew of other residents: there is Nicholas, an awkward young man who thinks himself a knight, complete with shining armor and a very real sword; Matilda, a grumpy older woman who loves to garden (badly) and has become close to Jasmine; Sera’s cousin Theo, another young witch whose immediate family has abdicated; and still Clemmie, still a grumpy, meddling fox-witch. One of Sera’s spells from back before she lost her powers still protects the inn from those who wish harm, but reveals it especially to those in need of its particular kind of succor, which is how Sera has found herself surrounded by such loveable, messy eccentrics. And then a new addition to Batty Hole arrives. Luke has long been at odd angles to the Guild, but finds meaningful work in academic research if he keeps his head down; but his younger sister Posie is not so under-the-radar. At nine years old, she is a powerful witch and also autistic, which means she is not inclined to follow rules, including the all-important one about not letting mainstream society find out about magic. Luke is running out of options to keep his dear sister safe; they are quite on the run when they arrive at Batty Hole. The refugees only mean to stay a short while, but the two magical children, Theo and Posie, do well together, and Luke and Sera (onetime misfit magical children themselves) may have assistance to offer each other in turn. The newcomers fit neatly into the inn’s batty little family. Sera might even get her magic back – but at what cost?

Sera had always been good at fortitude. Fortitude was her friend. She had fortituded her way through undependable parents, megalomaniac mentors, scheming foxes, the death of a loved one, the resurrection of said loved one, the loss of her magic, and quite a large number of fiascos big and small since then. Unfortunately, she and fortitude seemed to have now parted ways, because Sera, glaring fearsomely at an empty glass teapot, was at her wits’ end.

So. There is a lovely built family of oddballs, finding ways to relate to each other on nontraditional terms. There is the trick of finding where we each fit in, and caring for children – and adults – who are different, but not less than. There are many kinds of love, including familial and romantic (and just a little sex), and at every stage of life. There is awe and magic, and there are bad guys and one battle in particular. There are absolutely laugh-out-loud lines, and Nicholas’s loveable but quite silly jousting. It’s extremely sweet, but I brought a sweet tooth to this cozy fantasy tale about community and gumption. Samara MacLaren’s narration was fun and expressive (and great points for so many accents) – perfect. I am 100% all in for Sangu Mandanna.


Rating: 8 scones.