⭐ The Poet Empress by Shen Tao — 4.75/5
Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio for the ARC!

This was a book I tried to get my hands on for weeks because the summary intrigued me so much, and I was convinced it would be a new favorite. It did not disappoint.

I’d describe The Poet Empress as a dark political fantasy steeped in content warnings—graphic violence and torture with themes of sexual assault, child abuse, poverty, and limited agency. While these are hard-hitting topics, they are handled with care and I never found the description to be over the top. I haven’t read anything exactly like it, but readers of She Who Became the Sun and The Poppy War will likely find it compelling.

This is the closest a book has come to a 5-star rating for me this year. I reserve 5 stars for books I reread, constantly think about, or feel deeply attached to—but this one came very, very close.

What stood out most were the characters, the plot, the writing, and the magic system.

The characters are layered in ways that make them feel startlingly real. In the palace, every person has a clear purpose that drives their deceptions and alliances, and the narrative constantly invites the reader to piece together motivations and histories. Wei’s character arc is especially thoughtful—her growth from confusion and powerlessness to someone who understands and wields power is deliberate and compelling. Her internal conflict mirrors the reader’s: you root for her even when she’s forced to make harrowing choices. Shen Tao’s ability to evoke empathy for morally ambiguous (and sometimes deeply wicked) characters without ever glorifying their cruelty is exceptional.

The writing style is another highlight.
There are many passages exploring the history of the Azalea Dynasty and the dynamics between the princes, which could easily have slowed the pacing or felt like infodumps. Instead, they read like absorbing stories within a story. The imagery—especially the recurring motifs of the fish, the tiger, and the sparrow—adds richness and texture.

The magic system, rooted in poetry and literacy forbidden to women, feels fresh and thematically potent. It ties directly into agency, oppression, and the ways knowledge becomes power. I also appreciated how the different magical abilities of the princes served as commentary on what empires value—military might, economic strength, or service to the people.

Child-bearing and lineage are major thematic pillars, and I initially worried that this focus might become repetitive. Instead, the topic is explored from so many angles that it remains engaging and integral to the plot.

The story also consistently surprises.
I spent much of the book trying to predict its ending, and while I came up with several possibilities, the direction it ultimately chooses is distinct and well considered. The narrative clearly knows what themes it wants to explore and where it wants to go.

Overall, The Poet Empress is a sharply envisioned, emotionally complex fantasy that I’m incredibly excited for others to read. I can’t wait to see how people react when it releases.

⚡️ As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow — 4.5/5

This read had been a long time coming—I’ve had it on my TBR for nearly three years, and I’m glad I finally picked it up. It’s difficult to critique a book with such a clear sense of purpose: one that seeks to shine a light on the Syrian Revolution, particularly its impact on civilians. The novel thoughtfully explores mental health, the risks and realities of being a refugee, and how hope can persist amid immense loss. It also touches on the desire for freedom under a dictatorship, the isolation of watching the world observe your country’s suffering from afar, and the ways nationalism is shaped and expressed.

I loved the characters, the twists—especially the one around the 75% mark—and Kauf in particular. His presence as a vivid hallucination felt like a powerful representation of survival instincts and psychological defense mechanisms. Salama’s guilt taking on a physical manifestation through vomiting was especially striking in its realism.

My only real issue was how central the romance was to the story. This may partly stem from my own difficulty connecting with romance in fiction lately, but it was a bit of a turn-off for me. While I liked Kenan and Salama’s relationship and appreciated how it gave her a sense of family and hope, it felt rushed. I was surprised by how quickly they fell in love, and I felt that their relationship—and the persuasion to leave Syria—occupied a large portion of the middle of the book. This slowed the pacing for me and became somewhat repetitive, and I found myself waiting for the story to pick up again.

That said, I do recognize that bonds can form more quickly in times of uncertainty and instability. Overall, I commend the author for bringing these characters—and the questions they grapple with—to life. The writing style itself greatly enhances the storytelling and emotional impact of the novel.