A River Enchanted feels a bit like wandering into a misty folk tale and deciding to stay a while. The island is dripping with atmosphere, full of spirits, old grudges between clans, and the rather alarming problem of girls disappearing. Rebecca Ross clearly loves a lush sentence and honestly it works. The whole thing reads like an ancient ballad someone decided to turn into a novel. The pacing is definitely on the slower side, but the setting and characters make it worth settling into. Jack and Adaira are great, though Sidra and Torin quietly stole my heart. Finished it feeling enchanted, slightly emotional, and very ready for the sequel.

Picked up A Forgery of Fate expecting pretty fantasy vibes and maybe a bit of drama. What I got was an art forger accidentally painting the future and spiralling into increasingly chaotic situations, which honestly made the whole thing very entertaining. Tru is out here forging paintings to support her family, only to realise her art has the annoying habit of coming true. Not ideal when your visions involve disasters. The art magic was such a fun concept and probably my favourite part of the book. There is also a suspiciously mysterious dragon prince hanging around, which obviously complicates things. The middle drags a little with palace politics, but overall it was dramatic, magical, and a very enjoyable read.

Picked up A Flicker in the Dark expecting a properly tense thriller and, to be fair, it does move along at a decent clip. Chloe’s backstory is juicy: serial killer dad, missing girls, small town baggage. Twenty years later she’s a psychologist trying to act normal while the universe clearly has other plans. Cue more missing girls and a growing pile of suspicious people. I liked the atmosphere and it’s very readable, but Chloe’s endless second guessing started to feel like listening to a friend overthink a text message for hours. I also guessed the twist early. Still mildly entertaining.

Such a neat little nightmare of a novel. Three parts, seven chapters each, all very symmetrical for a story soaked in milk, menace and teenage chaos. Alex and his droogs treat “ultra-violence” like it’s a hobby, then it’s prison, then the grand experiment that sits right in the middle like Burgess tapping you on the shoulder saying, here’s the point. And the point is solid. Choice makes us human. Strip that away and you’ve built something mechanical, not moral. Fair enough. That final chapter though. The sudden growing up feels a touch convenient. Clever, stylish, unsettling in theory. Just never quite burrowed under the skin the way it thinks it does.

It really had me at creepy mansion and dramatic family secrets. The vibes were immaculate at first. Moody, gothic, slightly unhinged. The first half flew by and it genuinely felt like something good was brewing. Then the plot decided subtlety was overrated. Twists started stacking on top of twists until it felt like narrative Jenga. Every time a reveal landed, another one kicked the door in five pages later. By the end it was less shocking and more eye roll inducing. Such a strong start, such a chaotic descent into what on earth just happened.

So I finally read Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell and, honestly, it took its sweet time. The first half felt like Winston sulking in a grey room while I waited for the actual point to arrive. Julia turned up and I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw Big Brother. Male fantasy alert. But then the world-building kicked in, especially that ominous Book, and I perked up. O’Brien’s smug lectures were deliciously maddening. The ending was bleak in a satisfying way. Still not convinced everyone would swallow doublethink forever. But fine, Orwell, you win. Slightly.