I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this Scottish folklore-inspired story. I knew about this author from my friend who had read her other series, but this was my first time reading anything by her; all I knew was that she wrote largely romantasy books. Well, two days later, I'm happy to report that I enjoyed my first experience reading her work. The atmospheric writing reeled me into the story, and the cool and original magical worldbuilding absolutely helped me settle in.

tl;dr When girls start going missing, Jack returns home after 10 years away learning the skills of a bard only to discover that his musical abilities to call the elemental spirits that inhabit the island he calls home may be the key to find the girls, to figure out if their rival clan living on the western side of the island has anything to do with it—and to discover the secrets of his own heritage hidden away for over two decades.

I adored the writing in this book. There were some beautiful turn of phrases, and the writing as a whole really evoked a folklore tradition (and in some cases, included various folklore-inspired stories told by the characters). As someone who is super interested in Gaelic culture, I appreciated how Scottish terms and culture clearly inspired the world of Cadence, which could be seen in the language and word choice that the author used. I also really enjoyed the descriptions of nature around the island; when I think of Scotland and nature, I imagine the highlands, forests, and rugged coasts, and those internal associations were absolutely evoked throughout this book. I felt like the author did a really good job bringing her readers there.

Related to the writing, I found that the worldbuilding was super unique. The magic and use of enchantments was woven into the story in a way that felt natural; the characters created magic by creative endeavors such as weaving, making music, and blacksmithing. Magic was woven into regular items, such as weapons and plaid, in order to protect or attack. Of course, there is always a cost to doing magic, and the book explores the negatives of doing magic on the individuals who create the enchantments. I also really enjoyed the various elemental spirits that the characters encounter and their interactions with humans. The author captured the unpredictable nature of spirits who did not particularly care for and enjoyed toying with humans. Her writing created a tension as the characters continued to interact with them despite their unclear (and perhaps non-understandable) motivations.

The plot was definitely interesting and compelled me to keep reading because I wanted to find out what was going on with the missing girls, but moreso, I was curious about the characters' rival clan. I really want to know the true backstory of how the two clan became such bitter rivals. I feel like there has to be more to their hatred than the accepted lore of how they started fighting, given how violent their rivalry has gotten over the years and how much they essentially hate each other on sight. The author slowly reveals the complicated dynamics and family history between the two sides, and their rivalry ends up playing quite a huge part in this book, so I'm sure the sequel will touch on it more, which is a big reason I do want to read it.

I feel like characterization and romance was where the book suffered a little for me. I found the main character to be sort of...bland? I didn't dislike him, but he also didn't really stand out for being the main character. To be honest, I actually liked Jack's mom a lot more and was much more interested in her than Jack himself. While I liked the female lead, Adaira, a little more, overall, I wasn't fully invested in either of them individually or as a pair. The secondary main characters—Torin and Sidra—felt much compelling, perhaps because their writing and characterization felt much more adult than Jack and Adaira, who felt very YA-esq (which the author acknowledged as well). I was much more invested in Torin's character development in particular and the way that they dealt with their different ways of seeing the world; the description of grief leading to the breaking apart and coming together of their relationship felt really well developed and explored. Whereas Jack and Adaira never felt like wholly robust developed characters, I did get that with Torin and Sidra at least.

Excluding Torin and Sidra's (already established) relationship which I found well-written, I also felt that the relationship development between many of the other characters to be rushed and unexplored. Jack and Adaira are supposed to be childhood rivals/enemies, but it really never felt like that was fully addressed, and suddenly they have feelings for each other instead. (I did appreciate the swapped gender role expectations though—Adaira is the more athletic one who forges ahead and is the leader, and Jack is the musician who follows her lead.) For a book that a lot of people advertised as "enemies to lovers," it really was not that at all, because there was essentially no enmity. Jack also accepted finding out that he had a younger sister really quickly (basically immediately), which felt unrealistic. Similarly, Jack kept talking about how he wanted to go back to the mainland constantly because of how he had often felt unaccepted on the island as a child—all of which essentially disappeared quickly as he did an about face, processed these issues, and decided he would stay on the island within a couple chapters. Overall, there was really no hesitancy or questions about pretty much anything.

I started out thinking that I would be giving this book about a 3.5 star rating because of the issues I discussed above, but the original worldbuilding and writing bumped it up to a (light) 4 for me by the end. I would recommend this book for anyone interested in whimsical fantasy world set in a Scottish-based setting, elemental spirits, and complicated family histories.

See my Elements of Cadence series reviews:

A River Enchanted (#1) | here A Fire Endless (#2) | coming soon

If you're looking for a multigenerational story that is both a journey of personal discovery and an investigative murder mystery, all while wrapped in a social justice package, then Livonia Chow Mein by Abigail Savitch-Lew is the book for you.

Telling the story of Brownsville, Brooklyn through the experience of the Chin/Wong family Savitch-Lew crafts a fantastic map of the human experience, the impact of generational trauma, and the ways we can move forward together. The central plot follows the characters living in the present day uncovering the truth of a fire that killed folks living next to Lina in the tenements on Livonia Avenue, and though I thought I knew the truth of the situation, when the final reveal happened, I realized I had not. It was not an unsatisfying conclusion, though, as it offered a great commentary on ambition, generational wealth, and the depths one will go to to support/save their family.

I thought all of the characters (other than Sadie) were incredibly compelling and well-rounded. They all offered different takes on the same situation and were palpable in their realism. Sadie, however, felt lackluster in comparison to the complexities of Lina and Richard. It also felt like she was a tie-in character, as if her existence was only to bring these two incredibly well-developed groups of people and experiences together, though without possessing a complex plot of her own.

The book identifies the theme of home, primarily asking what is home, what makes a home, and how does home change? The choice to juxtapose the Chin family's multigenerational story of emigration from China with that of the Brownsville community's arc moving towards returning the community to it's inhabitants was incredibly strong. Both plots kept me engaged, and honestly the only time I felt the story lag was when Sadie was actively investigating. Her character had such emotional potential in relation to both the Brownsville plot and the unearthing of her family's history, but while I thought I knew what her conclusion would be, I did not, because there wasn't much there.

Overall, I'd definitely recommend this book to anyone who enjoys fiction that feels too much like it's reality happening in front of your eyes. The historical fiction aspect with the social justice lens is both rewarding and interesting, and I can't wait to see what other books that Abigail Savitch-Lew releases after this fantastic debut!

I am not fully sure how to review this short story, because it is so unlike anything else that I've ever read before. I've never read anything that was a largely philosophical text, and certainly not about existentialism or absurdism, but while I was reading this, I had a really interesting conversation with my friend who studied French literature in college about the meaning of the text and characters.

Meursault's apathy towards morally terrible things (his neighbor's abuse of his dog, his other neighbor's abuse of his ex-gf) and the way that he moves through the world is fascinating to consider from a psychological point of view, but also because he feels more amoral than moral or immoral. He's not making any particular decision or reacting to good or bad, he just does things and moves through the world with a "why not?" sort of attitude. I think this particular quote highlights this philosophy best: "I said that people never change their lives, that in any case one life was as good as another and that I wasn't dissatisfied with mine here at all."

He's not happy or unhappy, moral or immoral. He just is. It's a fascinating portrayal of a character.

And I suppose that's the point of the book. We're living in a universe that has no inherent meaning other than the meaning that we ascribe to it. We're all striving for something and try and make meaning of the life we're living because that's what we need as human beings to keep going despite hardships, whereas Meursault's thoughts and reactions are all largely focused on the physicality of his experiences (e.g. how bright the sun is, how hot the room is) rather than his emotional feelings because there is no meaning other than what he is going through in the moment.

This is particularly highlighted in the second part of the book. Meursault's trial focused not on what he did, but on who he is as a person and the different way that he moves through the world. He was condemned for that difference moreso than the murder that he did in the same way that society today condemns those who do not react to the world in a way they deem as "appropriate." The justice system itself is trying to create meaning of the murder when Meursault himself is unable to articulate why it happened. Even when asked why he killed the man, all he could say was it was "because of the sun." It happened because of a physical sensation; there was no deeper motivation or meaning behind it.

I was also struck by the judge and the chaplain trying to ascribe religion and religious motivation to Meursault's actions. They are seeking meaning through religion, and they can not understand those who do not live by that philosophy. The judge calls Meursault "Antichrist" because he can not possibly understand the worldview of someone who lives outside the bounds of what society deems as normal. But as Meursault noted, we all live and we all die the same, no matter what else happened in life.

Truly, the world is meaningless and we are all just stardust turned flesh living out our lives in the "benign indifference of the universe."