Lioness Rampant by Tamora Pierce (audio)

Book four in this quartet had me wondering how we were going to get all the loose threads tied up by its end, but we did get there! I am very appreciative of Pierce’s writing (and Trini Alvarado’s narration) throughout, and will miss Alanna. It looks like there are some other books related to the Tortallan world; I’ll see about tracking those down.

In Lioness Rampant, we see Alanna take on the biggest, baddest adventure yet – and perhaps her first proper quest, with a goal of international significance and not just that of improving her own reputation (although that remains important to Alanna, who as a “lady knight” must always be proving herself). She faces hazards out of all proportion, and will have to face old enemies again. We meet back up with every character who has mattered for the four books, including one we thought we’d killed off already, and introduce new heroes. Alanna continues to reckon with her choices and ask herself what it is she really wants out of life.

“I can only blame myself,” she growled. “I could have gone to a convent, never learned to wrestle and be dumped on my head, never have broken any bones or fallen in the dirt. I’d be clean and wear pretty dresses. By now I’d be married to a buffle-brained nobleman with a small fief. I’d probably even have clean, pretty, buffle-brained children.” Trying to wipe her hands before taking the reins, she found her breeches were as muddy as her hands. “Don’t remind me I picked this life. I have no one to blame but myself.”

I’m leaving this plot summary pretty loose: crazy odds, huge ambitions, epic battles, new and old heroes and foes. I am still mulling where we leave everyone in the end: Tortall’s future is more or less secured (to the extent possible) by Alanna’s heroism, and the good work of her comrades. But the hero herself… well. Reader responses will vary. I’m not sure how I feel about it all, but I am very glad that Pierce is making me think and feel all these things.

I would be so glad to keep reading in this world, or anything from this author.


Rating: 8 earbobs for the series.

Mazywood by Tananarive Due

In dual timelines, the Washington family faces racism and monsters in this engrossing work that is both horror and historical novel.

Tananarive Due’s striking novel Mazywood blends historical Black Hollywood with a horror story involving family legacies and the power of a wish.

Readers meet Mazelle Washington as a little girl in 1926. The lonely youngest in a family of Black stage performers, Mazelle ventures into the woods, to the locally famous Wishing Pool, where she asks for a forever friend. She forgets to say she wants her friend to be human–but when a charming, scruffy white dog turns up, she loves him like no one else. With Scout by her side doing tricks, Mazelle becomes the darling of silent film comedy. Throughout her long career in Hollywood, however, Mazelle faces racism, sexual harassment, and other more personal struggles.

Mazelle’s narrative thread sees her into the 1980s and runs alongside a 2020s timeline in which Mazelle’s grandson, Johnny Washington, a director of horror films, works in an industry still wrestling with stereotypes. In an upheaval, Johnny takes his wife and two daughters for their first visit to his family inheritance: Mazelle’s ski lodge in the mountain forests of northern California. Even with his own grim memories of the place, Johnny is unprepared for the terrors that await them there.

Due (The Reformatory) expertly interlaces these two narratives, one rooted in historical detail, with cameos by Lena Horne and Sammy Davis Jr., the other neatly focused on 21st-century family dynamics and the development of two strong, nuanced adolescent girls. Drama, history, and bloodcurdling fear combine for a thriller that is smart, monster-ridden, and moving.


This review originally ran in the September 25, 2026 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish news.


Rating: 7 pennies.

The Woman Who Rides Like a Man by Tamora Pierce (audio)

Book three in a quartet that began here and is flying by. In The Woman Who Rides Like a Man, Alanna has been newly knighted, and the world now knows that she is a woman. We find her traveling through the southern desert (because it is winter and she loathes the cold) with her faithful manservant and trainer, Corum, as her only company. She is in search of adventure, and also legitimacy in the eyes of a court that does not generally approve of women warriors. She finds the first, at least, with the Bazhir, a loose nation of desert folk, and the Bloody Hawk tribe within that people. There is a battle, she proves herself by combat, she is adopted by the tribe; but the existing shaman views her as an enemy, mostly for her gender. After she kills him in a fight she never wanted in the first place, she is tasked with becoming the Bloody Hawk’s shaman in his stead, until she can train a suitable replacement. (There are some interesting cultural questions here; I am more or less as surprised as Alanna that such an important role should go to an outsider.) Of course, the candidates to replace her turn out to be two girls, something that does not bother Alanna but gives the tribe some further trouble.

“I think I’m leaving you in a fairly quiet place,” [Corum] began as he unpacked in his tent. Alanna was watching as she scratched Faithful’s ears. “You weren’t well enough known here that you could get into any trouble, and I thought they’d stay away from ye. But I come back and you’re the mother-blessed shaman of the tribe! You’ve adopted three young ones and you’re forcin’ the women to accept two of their own sittin’ with the men!”

“You’re turning purple,” Alanna commented when he stopped for breath.

But as the Woman Who Rides Like a Man (so called by her new tribespeople, with respect and admiration), she is well placed to push for such a revolution.

In the course of her accomplishments with the Bloody Hawk, Alanna also enjoys a reunion with Prince Jonathan, and they renew their love affair. He asks her to marry him, and one day become his queen; but this will lead in a different direction than he hopes.

By this novel’s end, the prospects for the kingdom of Tortall are looking up, based upon Jonathan’s work with the Bloody Hawk, which is in turn made possible (I’d argue) by Alanna’s relationships. But Alanna’s personal life remains in some upheaval. She’s come a ways from the time when she told the goddess she would never love; in one of her quieter revolutions in what women can be, Alanna takes lovers as she pleases. But she hasn’t settled on what exactly it is that she wants. Luckily, we head into book four with another quest on the horizon.

These books were originally published in the 1980s and have aged remarkably well. I think there is room for some concern in the portrayal of the desert tribespeople, but it does not feel (at least to this reader) necessarily objectionable. I’d defer to a sensitivity reader, perhaps.

I do still love Alanna and her attitudes and adventures, and am looking forward to what the final book in the quartet may hold.


Rating: 7 swords.

In the Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Pierce (audio)

Book 2 in the Song of the Lioness quartet continues to please. We know Alanna from the eponymous first book, where we left her mid-adventure. We meet her again still in-scene, though we’ve fast-forwarded; she is a competent and respected squire approaching the trial she must endure to become a knight. And she is dreading it, to an extent that feels a little inexplicable to this reader; she has been so good at everything she’s tried so far, although often as not that’s a feature of hard work. Alanna still lives as a boy, now a young man, with only a few close friends knowing her truth. This generally means she’s the smallest, and there is always some self-doubt.

One of the trajectories she goes through in this novel is her resistance to ‘love’ (or, as it sometimes seems, sex). It is also increasingly necessary that she live the truth of her identity. It’s never been a question that Alanna feels like a girl – she even wishes for a little more knowledge of how to wear women’s clothing and be ‘pretty.’ She poses as a boy for the privileges it provides her, to study the martial arts, and not as a matter of identity. So, one of the places we see her moving is toward declaring her true identity – but only after she achieves knighthood.

The other plot thread that provides tension is that of a threat to the throne, most pointedly in the form of its heir, Prince Jonathan, who is Alanna’s good friend and perhaps something more. The threat comes from inside the royal circle, and is magical as well as substantial; a supernatural weapon is used to obscure the truth, leaving Alanna mostly alone in fighting it. That storyline will come to a head alongside the question of where Alanna puts her breasts, as one friend forms that inquiry.

I still appreciate Trini Alvarado’s reading of these books, which is just a little clipped in a way that feels just right. (Maybe I’ll describe that better in book three.) It’s all a grand adventure, and I feel invested in the growth of our heroine, who very much rides into the sunrise at the book’s end. Even after these decades, she feels like a worthwhile hero, not at all dated. See you soon!


Rating: 7 phantom swords.

When the Tides Held the Moon by Venessa Vida Kelley

A lovely historical speculative novel starring a young man between worlds: a Puerto Rican immigrant to early-20th century New York City who is also queer. When he encounters a merman, everything imaginable and unimaginable will change for Benny (or Benigno). In an author’s note, Kelley observes that mermaid tales tend to address hybridity, and Benny does indeed walk those liminal spaces.

We meet Benny in an ironworks in Brooklyn’s Red Hook, where he is gifted in his work, but bullied and harassed and undervalued. From here he is sort of rescued (by injury) into a literal sideshow act, via employment by one of Coney Island’s entrepreneurs. He joins a built family of other folks on the margins: immigrants and those deemed ‘freaks’ for physical appearance or the lives they’ve chosen or been compelled to pursue. And he is tasked with caring for a creature he helped, inadvertently, to imprison. When the merman refuses to give Benny his name (“humanity has taken enough from me”), Benny calls him Río. Benny lives and dines with the cast, who are as colorful a bunch as you’d imagine; he begins to feel a closeness he’s always yearned for, but still does not entirely trust. He even meets for the first time men who love men – and resists the recognition they offer him, at least at first. And at the same time, he secretly spends late nights with Río. Something is developing there that might give him everything, or cost him everything. Or both.

When the Tides Held the Moon is a story about many things. It definitely contains romance, tinted with the fantasy element of a merman: his scintillating skin, his textures, his beautiful voice, his tantalizing spiritual connection with the Currents. It contains a proper plot problem to overcome: for Benny to do the right thing by Río (something he wants for many reasons, including justice as well as his more personal feelings) he has to release him. If you love something, let it go – but Benny has never experienced love before, and the conundrum he faces is abject and existential. As well as logistical: the evil showmaster who has imprisoned Río and, in some sense, Benny and all the cast, will not let his prize exhibit go easily. And, as the author’s note outlines with clarity, this novel is also about marginalized people and that hybridity that Río represents. Kelley writes, “it is my deepest hope that readers will close this book with, if not an appreciation for the struggles of marginalized New Yorkers during the early 1900s, then empathy for those past and present who stride the line between identities and whose quest for freedom demands riding a different wave.” It’s a lovely book about people who offer a number of ways to live, who have built a place for themselves in an unwelcoming world, and about love. I had a wonderful time.


Rating: 7 saris.

Alanna by Tamora Pierce (audio)

I’m certain I got this title off a recommendations list somewhere on the Shelf Awareness site, but that source appears lost to me now. It’s a book about as old as I am, but has not paled, nor does it feel especially dated. Trini Alvarado narrates this audio version, and I liked her style: a little unadorned, with a snappy pace, not lingering; but still with emotion in dialog.

Alanna is a twin of minor nobility, with no mother, and a distracted father. Her brother Thom (being a boy) is destined to go to the king’s court to train to become a knight – something he wants not at all. Alanna (being a girl) will be sent to a convent to study magic. Though powerful, she’s not crazy about that set of abilities; she’d rather study the fighting arts in Tom’s stead. And so it is Alanna’s idea to more or less switch places: they forge letters that send Thom to study magic, on his way to becoming a sorcerer, and invent his twin brother Alan, who will go to court to serve as page, then squire, then hopefully knight.

Accompanied by family servant and former soldier Coram (who is reluctant to help, but confesses that Alanna was always the more talented fighter, and anyway she threatens him with her magic), “Alan” does indeed go to court. The training is hard work, but her pride is helpful in the context of the chivalric code. She discovers quickly that it is important to take punishment without complaint. When she is bullied, she does not tattle, but trains harder until she can defeat her enemy on her own terms. Despite being the littlest, she overcomes obstacle after obstacle. She must eventually reveal her magic to save a friend’s life (especially because that friend is an heir to the throne); it is harder still to reveal her true identity as Alanna, but puberty comes for us all. I loved everything about this story of adventure and intrigue, and only found that it ended too soon, practically mid-escapade – but that only leaves me ready for the rest of what seems to be a fast-paced little series. Cheers to plucky girls!


Rating: 7 tankards of lemonade.

reread: A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Amor Towles’ astonishing, all-encompassing, world-writ-large novel A Gentleman in Moscow is ten years old now, and I have had the pleasure of interviewing him for Shelf Awareness (stay tuned for that piece to come), in celebration of a new, deluxe, anniversary edition. For this reason I also reread the book, which is at least as good a second time. I’ll start by sharing again my original review…

This grand, sweeping story takes place entirely inside the walls of a luxury hotel in 1920s-1950s Moscow, in lushly evocative writing from the author of Rules of Civility.

gentleman in moscow

Amor Towles’s first novel, Rules of Civility, won readers’ hearts with its strong sense of time and place, fully realized characters and richly evocative voice. A Gentleman in Moscow repeats the feat with those qualities and more.

In 1922, Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov (“recipient of the Order of Saint Andrew, member of the Jockey Club, Master of the Hunt”) appears before a Bolshevik tribunal, accused of “succumbing irrevocably to the corruptions of his class.” He responds with quips, and is sentenced to house arrest in the luxury hotel where he has lived for the last four years. “Make no mistake: should you ever set foot outside of the Metropol again, you will be shot.”

This stylish and cultured protagonist has already lost his family and their estate. Now two armed guards move him from his suite into a monastic room of one hundred square feet. The bulk of his fine furniture, which will not fit in his new lodgings, becomes the property of the People. Remarkably good-natured, Rostov makes the best of his circumstances. He has all he needs in the Metropol: two restaurants, a barber, a seamstress and impeccably mannered staff who know him well. His worst enemy, perhaps, will be boredom–or a waiter who is particularly committed to the revolutionary cause. To brighten Rostov’s days, a fellow resident, “the young girl with the penchant for yellow,” befriends him. And then the hotel opens for him into a world as broad and rewarding as the one he wishes for his new friend–but ultimately as limiting as well.

The charming, complex Rostov is joined by colorful hotel employees (especially a talented chef and maître d’) and visitors, including a lovely actress, a dear friend from his youth and an assortment of Western journalists and businessmen. It is the charm of this expansive, lushly detailed novel that such a rich cast and such diverting and occasionally devastating events can populate the closed space of the Metropol, over a span of 32 years. A Gentleman in Moscow is filled with literary and cultural references–Chekhov, Tolstoy, Tchaikovsky, Humphrey Bogart–and with tastes, smells, humor, love and loyalty. Towles indulges in sentimentality to just the right degree. Readers who enjoy a generous, absorbing story, vibrant characters and immersive time and place will fall in love with this saucy novel. And by the time A Gentleman in Moscow closes in 1954, those readers will be sorry to lose the new friend they’ve found in Rostov.


This review originally ran in the July 29, 2016 issue of Shelf Awareness for the Book Trade.


Rating: 8 jackets hanging in the closet.

When I returned to the novel, I found the first half or more familiar. But late in these nearly 500 pages, I felt more like I was discovering anew. And what a joy that was, because this book strikes me as nearly perfect: detailed, funny, gorgeous, tender, heart-wrenching, and as I’ve already said, sentimental to exactly the right degree (for this reader, at least). I was both rushing through and also very sorry to see it end. I’m so glad the novel is getting this renewed attention now. Again, stay tuned for an upcoming interview with Amor Towles.

Also, please enjoy the time-capsule of the above review, from a time when Shelf Awareness came down strictly against the Oxford comma! Times have changed, and for some of us, this stands out. (Look, it was fun for me, okay?)


Rating: an improved 9 oranges.

Kopp Sisters on the March by Amy Stewart (audio)

As ever: mild spoilers for earlier books in the series, but not for this one.

Part of me keeps wanting to say “more of the same, but in a good way (promise)” – but this installment in the Kopp sisters’ adventures does in fact see a change of scenery. Following
Constance’s sad and upsetting dismissal from her work as sheriff’s deputy, she has spent a winter moping. But her country seems on the brink of entering the war in Europe, which will become World War I; Norma is up in arms (nearly literally) about her pigeons’ ability to serve as important wartime messengers; and Fleurette is getting restless as well. They will end up heading as a group to a camp of the National Service School in Chevy Chase, Maryland, where women are to be trained to help in the war effort.

But, as is Amy Stewart’s practice, this novel doesn’t begin with the Kopp sisters, but with a character introduced in this book: Miss Beulah Binford has been living under an assumed name in New York City, but her life has hit a roadblock, once again. She hasn’t been able to use her real name in years, since that name was associated in the national press with a sensational case: a man murdered his wife, and Beulah was identified as one of the girls/women he had known on the side. In distress, she grasps at the idea that she might be sent overseas to France as part of the war effort. And so she winds up in the same camp, and the same canvas tent, as the Kopp sisters (and another young woman named Sarah, who is earnest in her desire to go join her twin brother as an ambulance driver in France).

I think Stewart made an excellent choice in expanding her characters’ world from Hackensack, New Jersey (where options for Constance’s work, and Stewart’s plots, were running low) to this training camp. It’s a fascinating setting and collision of worlds: many of the camp’s attendees are young society women of privilege, on a lark, interested in at most some light sewing and play-acting at marching in lines. But some, like Sarah (or in more eccentric fashion, Norma) hope for harder work and greater discipline. Constance is hoping to hide out from her own past, a little like Beulah (who for her fellow campers identifies as Roxie Collins); but when the camp’s matron is disabled by an accident, the former deputy is back in a position of authority, and it feels so good.

This setting and new cast of characters allows for more of Stewart’s good work with her (well-researched) fictionalization of true history (the camp, and Beulah Binford, were real), as well as an examination of the way different walks of life approached the idea of war service. Central is the idea of what women might have to offer, and you can just imagine how diverse those beliefs are; many of them play out right there in Chevy Chase on these pages. I found it all absorbing. Also, for the first time I think, this audiobook included the author’s note on historical sources and the line between fact and fiction in her work, which I really appreciated (and, it made me realize, I’ve been missing in the earlier books). The short answer is, much is true, and I think Stewart does a good job of spelling out where she’s chosen or been forced to invent.

Christina Moore’s narration is strong as ever – I think she excels at the various voices, and it should go without saying at this point that I could not hear any of these Kopp sisters in any other narrators’ telling. Moving on to book six.


Rating: 7 missing bananas.

The Witch Below the Dreaming Wood by H. G. Parry (audio)

I love H. G. Parry.

This is a reworking of the myth(s) of King Arthur et al, with a timeline in the second World War interacting with earlier legends. It foregrounds two women: Nimue, who is raised by Morgan le Fay, the Lady of the Lake, to be Merlin’s doom; and Elaine (Ellie) Ambrose, a librarian in 1941 London who is sent to a remote estate in Wales after the bombing of the British Museum Library. Chapters alternate between Nimue’s first-person perspective (I believe hers is first-person because she has knowledge of most all events) and Ellie’s third-person (she is still working things out). Nimue’s girlhood is spent under the lake, knowing only her mother, Morgan le Fay; Lancelot, raised as her older brother; and Mordred, raised as her younger one. She is to bring down Merlin, the greatest wizard in the land. But when she leaves her underwater home, she finds out how little she understands about people, herself, her mother’s motivations, Arthur, Guinevere, Merlin himself, etc., etc. Meanwhile, Ellie is mystified and a little peeved to have been sent away from London: the bombings, the books, the work she is so committed to. But here she is in a backwater, at Camlan House, tasked with cataloging a private collection for an absent owner. She finds the housekeeper Mrs. Leaf odd and unfriendly, but the groundskeeper, Tom Wilder, will become a dear friend.

Ellie has been mostly dismissive of the recent wave of dreams, shared by much of the British populace, about King Arthur. It is only at Camlan House that Ellie begins to dream, too: not of Arthur, but of Nimue. Staunchly practical, she persists in believing that Arthurian legend can have no bearing on the bombs and the Nazis of the present–right up until she and Tom together rescue an actual questing beast from a rock pool on the coast. And then things start to get really strange.

I won’t say too much more. Things I loved about King Arthur and the Round Table are present here: the exalted ideals of the chivalric code, the loves and tragedies of Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot’s triangle, the brooding mystique of the Lady of the Lake; all of which benefit from the recentered women of The Mists of Avalon. T.H. White even appears as a character here! (Also Maid Marian…) And then there is the passionate librarianship of Ellie, a very shadowy character herself. I loved Tom, I loved Merlin in every version. I couldn’t wait to get back into it, even with an overlay of tragedy everywhere we turn. This book is about the same length as Breeze Spells and Bridgerooms, but felt so different. I love both–but where Bridegrooms raced past in bliss and cakes and punch and fairy lights, The Witch feels epic and inexorable. This is a matter of pacing but also content: Arthur’s time and World War II are both at least as full of darkness as of light, and hinge upon the battle between the two (in simplest, most mythic terms). It’s not a cheerful story, but it is a brave, beautiful one.

Helen Day narrates in a variety of voices and accents that felt very immediate and right to me. I think I will seek out audio versions of Parry’s work in future. Definitely recommend, for lovers of books, legend, the Arthurian stories, history, and the kind of fantasy that strives to save the world.


Rating: 8 tutting mice.

Breeze Spells and Bridegrooms by Sarah Wallace and S.O. Callahan

I had the best time with this lively tale of human-fae relations, magic, and enemies-to-lovers romance. It’s sugary sweet but hit just the right note for me.

In this alternative Regency-era London, same-sex relationships are as usual as hetero ones, and humans and fae folk live together, although not entirely with ease. Everybody (human and fae) takes the Hastings test when they are twelve. This exam claims to test magical ability, and the score assigned dictates each individual’s options for the rest of their life: who inherits, what profession one can enter, and one’s marriageability (which we know is terribly important in Regency London). As we enter this year’s social Season, one Roger Barnes (human) is less concerned with finding a mate, and more concerned with reworking the infamous Hastings test. Roger’s low score has labelled him as worthless, but his hard work on a new test rubric makes the reader suspicious of that conclusion early on. Unfortunately, Roger is assigned to work with Wyndham Wrenwhistle on this project. Wyn (fae) and Roger have known each other since childhood, but never gotten along. Wyn is beautiful, stylish, and aloof, where Roger is chubby, bookish, and deeply anxious. Their partnership for the test rubric is unlikely and prickly from the start, although from the reader’s privileged perspective, they may indeed have complementary qualities and much to offer one another. The trouble really begins when an unusual and eccentric gossip columnist prints the news that the two are engaged–this is false, but once printed, by the mores of their society, it would mean social doom for both families if retracted. And so Roger and Wyn find themselves working not only to fix the Haynes test, but to fake a romantic partnership, complete with romantic walks in the park (chaperoned, of course), deep sighs, and choreographed dances. And spells.

I was tickled by the combination of Regency standards and Wallace and Callahan’s worldbuilding. Human and fae magics, respectively, have long been understood for their differences, not their complementary possibilities. And some features of each will be rediscovered, by accident and with purpose, by this unlikely duo. Roger’s academic enthusiasm is absolutely genuine, and infectious. He really does need help with anxiety; and Wyn, it turns out, needs help with certain aspects of being in the city, as well. This lovely tale includes scholarship, social politicking as well as the political kind, finessing of human-fae relations, and swoon-worthy romance. Breeze Spells and Bridegrooms feels as good as fluff, but with substance. Over 400 pages flew by in an actual blink; I will be looking for more.


Rating: 9 honey-covered biscuits.