The Serviceberry is one of those rare pieces of writing that feels small in size but enormous in what it asks you to reconsider. Robin Wall Kimmerer takes something as ordinary as a berry and uses it to quietly question the foundations of the economy we live in – what we call value, what we think abundance is, and what it means to live in reciprocity rather than extraction.

This isn’t a dense academic critique of capitalism, and it isn’t a sentimental nature essay either. It sits somewhere in between, in a very human space. Kimmerer weaves Indigenous teachings, ecological understanding, and everyday experience into a vision of a “gift economy,” where the world is understood through relationships of giving and receiving instead of buying and owning. She makes you feel how different it is to see food, land, and other beings not as “resources,” but as gifts that come with responsibilities.

One of the most powerful threads in this book is her insistence on “enoughness.” She challenges the dominant story of scarcity by reminding us that the planet already produces enough to sustain everyone; the crisis lies in how we take, hoard, and distribute. Through this lens, practices like gratitude and attention to the gifts around us stop being fluffy or individualistic. They become ways of loosening the grip of a system that depends on us always feeling like we are missing something and must consume more.

Kimmerer also writes beautifully about care, dependency, and the original economies we are born into – the flows of nourishment, protection, and love that allow life to continue long before money or merit ever enter the picture. From there, she extends the question outward: if we can recognize those dynamics in our most intimate relationships, what would it mean to recognize them in our relationship with the Earth itself? The book doesn’t offer easy answers, but it reframes the questions in a way that lingers.

Stylistically, the prose is gentle, lyrical, and very accessible, even as the ideas carry real weight. You don’t feel lectured; you feel invited to imagine that another way of living and exchanging is possible, one rooted in gratitude, sufficiency, and mutual care. For a relatively short work, The Serviceberry leaves a long echo. It’s the kind of book that makes you look at your next meal, your next purchase, even your next moment of thanks, a little differently.

Wholehearted five stars.

”Every book is a little mirror, and sometimes you look into it and see someone else looking back.”

This was amazing. I cannot properly express how much I adored, adored, adored this book. I actually ended up loving Bookshops & Bonedust even more than Legends & Lattes (which I already loved so much). The characters, the town of Murk, the bookshop, the pure comfort this story exudes… everything was phenomenal and so delightfully atmospheric.

Our beloved orc Viv is younger here, injured in the middle of a hunt for a powerful necromancer and forced into a “rest” she absolutely does not want. Stuck in the seaside town of Murk with an injured leg, she expects boredom and frustration. Instead, she finds a loving, lively cast of characters, each with their own small, tender stories that intertwine with hers. Fern and Potroast, the gryphet, quickly became favourites of mine.

Because this is a prequel, we get to see a more reckless, youthful version of Viv, but she’s still unmistakably the Viv we know and love. This story adds so much emotional weight to Legends & Lattes and to what we already know of her future. It gives her history texture; every person she meets in Murk changes her in ways big and small, and you can feel those echoes reaching forward into the life she hasn’t lived yet.

“Sometimes, it’ll never be the right time. And sometimes, we aren’t the right people yet.”

This book perfectly balances coziness and adventure. The stakes are a little higher and the conflict a bit sharper than in L&L, but it never loses that profound sense of comfort. The community of Murk is everything: messy, warm, imperfect, and so incredibly alive. Every character brings something to the table. And the bookshop at the centre of it all is the ultimate place of solace. There could not have been a better setting for this story. Travis Baldree is, truly, a master at making his books feel like a warm hug.

One of his biggest strengths is how vividly he writes. From the foggy seaside town to the cosy interiors, from the food (always the food!) to Viv’s tangled emotional landscape, the prose is quietly rich and immersive. You can practically smell the bread, hear the creak of the shop floorboards, and feel every tug of longing, fear, and hope Viv goes through.

What sets this apart from its predecessor is its slightly more adventurous tone. It keeps that cozy fantasy charm, but shows us a younger, less seasoned Viv at the very beginning of her mercenary career. It feels like the genesis of her legend, and that knowledge makes certain moments land with a bittersweet, almost aching beauty.

“Then why does this have to be the end of it?” “Because I’m headed down the hill, and you’re headed up it. I’m just glad we chanced to meet on the way.”

I adored how storytelling itself is woven into the book. This is such a love letter to readers and to bibliophiles. It’s a story about connection and growth, about the hopeful yet sorrowful knowledge of what is still to come. It’s about finding a home and knowing you’ll eventually have to leave it; about understanding that closing one chapter doesn’t mean the story is truly over. Endings are not always the end. Your story goes on.

This was such a wholesome, sweet, and utterly engrossing read. I was hooked from start to finish and never wanted to put it down. It’s the kind of book you want to devour in one sitting and also somehow make last forever. If I could be enveloped in this story for all my days, I would be. It’s as simple as that.

In sum, Bookshops & Bonedust is enchanting, heartwarming, and quietly unforgettable. Travis Baldree has once again crafted compelling characters and a transportive setting, while giving us a fresh, tender adventure with Viv at its heart. This is a beautiful addition to the series and a perfect read for anyone who has ever loved a story, a bookshop, or a place that felt like home.

Please never stop writing, Travis Baldree.

See you in the story past the story.