Like a Curse will be released on October 22, 2024. It is the sequel to Like a Charm, and closes the Like a Charm duology.

Now that Ramya Knox has discovered that there’s a whole world of Hidden Folk existing under her nose in Edinburgh—and that she’s a witch—she’s determined to defeat the sirens and learn what her newly discovered family is like without their looming threat. And, with the siren Portia’s influence rapidly spreading over the human and magical worlds, Ramya knows she has to act fast. The only problem is that she has to master her magical abilities first…and that turns out to be much harder than she’s bargained for.

Alongside old and new friends alike, Ramya must rally her magic and her determination if she wants to defeat Portia before she suffers a defeat she won’t be able to recover from.

I’ve rarely read an incredibly satisfying, self-contained book followed by an equally brilliant sequel. Like a Curse, though, is exactly that. I truly loved Like a Charm, blending fantasy and realism into something I couldn’t help but adore, and the sequel fully lived up to my expectations.

Once more, I unabashedly adore Ramya. Her determination, anxiety, and struggle to prove herself made it difficult to put down her story, and her relationships (especially with Opal) truly gave the book shine with new depth. Although I don’t want to spoil the book, I will say that I particularly loved the ending. McNicoll manages to bring together this duology’s many threads—friendship, magic, neurodiversity, forgiveness, understanding, secrets—and create an incredibly satisfying conclusion that put a spin on fantasy unlike anything I’ve ever read.

I highly recommend Like a Curse (and the Like a Charm duology) to readers ages nine and up who enjoy middle-grade fantasy and are looking for a book that puts a twist on the genre.

An e-ARC of this book was provided through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Greta will be released on September 10, 2024.

The world around Greta is changing far too quickly for her to keep up. Between an upcoming move, entering middle school, and her longtime best friend, Lotti, getting distracted by boys, Greta feels left behind by the fierce, never-ending changes around her that she doesn’t feel part of. When a boy finally takes notice of her, she thinks maybe this is her chance to become part of this incomprehensible new world. But instead, she’s left shattered, scared, and even more lost than before.

As she struggles to put words to what’s happened to her, even to Lotti, Greta starts to change, in ways utterly different than everyone around her. But while her newfound differences are looked at askance by those around her, for Greta, they’re a way to become herself at last: to find beauty, and freedom, with a kind of change that finally feels right.

If you like straightforward, predictable stories with familiar characters and beats to provide escapism and a quick laugh, Greta is absolutely not something you’ll want to read. But if you’re more like me—someone who enjoys deep, thoughtful, and fundamentally unexpected stories—I highly recommend this book.

I finished this book a week ago now, and I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve thought about Greta every day during that time period. I’ve read hundreds, maybe thousands, of middle-grade books, and I can think of few others that possess the same combination of incredible oddity and incredible humanity.

It took me several chapters to get into the story, as the uncanny, almost surreal aspects of it only begin appearing once Greta’s normal life is established. However, I was so interested in the premise that I didn’t even consider stopping reading, and it definitely lived up to that. The whole story has a dreamlike quality overlayed on a fundamentally realistic portrayal of middle school which gave it a truly unique atmosphere, and I particularly loved how the characters, including Greta, responded to the changes in her life.

Greta is the rare book that truly leaves you with more questions and answers, and yet imparts such a fundamental sense of peace and well-being that you can’t help but feel satisfied after finishing it. I highly recommend Greta to readers ages eleven and up, particularly those who enjoy unique and thought-provoking stories.

​An e-ARC of this book was provided through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

By Nico

Ramya’s grandfather was the only person who ever believed she was special. He was also the only person who believed her about the odd things she sees that no one else does. But it’s been years now since he was estranged from Ramya’s family, and she’s resigned to a life surrounded by teachers and other adults who write her off as lesser and stick her in remedial classes, never understanding that her neurodiversity doesn’t mean anything is wrong with her.

But everything changes when her grandfather leaves a book to her in his will—a book that introduces Ramya to the world only she can see, where mythical creatures and magic-users walk the streets of Edenborough beside her, disguised from human eyes.

It should be a fairytale come true. But everyone in the Hidden World is afraid of something—the sirens, whose love of sewing discord makes them a threat to everyone, magical and human alike. Ramya is the only one who can resist their powers, which means she’s the only one who has even a chance at stopping them. But the sirens have more than one way to dispose of their opponents, and Ramya will need all her courage, wit, and newfound friends to defeat them before they steal away everyone dear to her forever.

​Ramya is the kind of protagonist far too many would write off as unlikable, but on the contrary, she was exactly what I needed. The same qualities that some would deem unfortunate pulled me immediately into the story: her stubbornness, her uncompromising attitude, and most of all her firm conviction to be herself, to accept herself, no matter what everyone around her believes about her. The quiet anger that runs through this book, about the assumptions we make about others and the way society views people who don’t conform to the norm made what could’ve been a straightforward fantasy novel something I utterly adored. In particular, the seamless way magic and the modern day were intertwined grounded this book through all its twists and turns. And I absolutely loved the intertwined threads of neurodiversity and magic that ran through this book—I didn’t even know that was something I needed until I found it here. I highly recommend Like a Charm to readers ages nine and up. 

By Nico

Morgan knows she can’t be herself on the tiny island where she’s grown up. Here, she’s straightforward, unremark-able, good at blending in, a persona much easier to stomach than the truth that no one—not her struggling mom, not her cluster of friends—knows: Morgan likes girls.

She’s determined to get through high school and escape as soon as possible to somewhere she can be herself. But all that changes when Keltie slips out of the sea and saves Morgan’s life. Keltie—who, with her odd, bright-colored clothes, disregard for social convention, and unconventional secret—is the worst thing possible for Morgan’s attempt at normalcy. Particularly when she begins to fall in love…

​The Girl from the Sea was the summery, small-town, queer graphic novel I didn’t know I needed! With beautiful, atmospheric artwork and a contemporary twist on the classic selkie story, I couldn’t help but be pulled into this book. I really loved the characters—Morgan is one of the absolutely most relatable characters I’ve read recently, and Keltie her perfect foil, with so much spark and personality that I couldn’t help but fall in love with her alongside Morgan. The entire story was sweet and vivid, and extraordinarily realistic, despite (or because of) the magical elements; Morgan’s family in particular felt completely authentic, with the right mix of conflict and love and individual character to bring it truly to life. Whimsical and full of magic, I highly recommend The Girl from the Sea to readers ages eleven and up. 

By Nico

There are stories about the lake, about a world that exists beneath it, about ghosts and odd happenings and mysteries that can’t be solved. No one believes them anymore, of course—the old sign detailing the lakelore is barely legible, and the old tales have become things to laugh at, not to believe. Only Bastián Silvano can find the world under the lake anymore, find the place where water lifts from the surface like butterfly’s wings and reveals a path to the depths below. And Lore Garcia is the only one they’ve ever managed to show it to, though they met so briefly they never even learned each other’s names.

It's been years since they met for the first time—time enough for Bastián to begin sending their worst moments beneath the lake’s surface in paper-mâché alebrijes, and for Lore to do something so terrible they have to leave their old town—even if that doesn’t keep away the memories intent on reminding Lore of all their worst mistakes. But when Lore moves into Bastián’s town and lakelore slips out from beneath the surface of the lake, they must each trust each other with the parts of themselves they’ve worked the hardest to hide.

Having written hundreds of reviews, I have a running shortlist of ones that were nearly impossible to describe—books like Raybearer and Daughter of Smoke and Bone, which I absolutely love but struggle to find words to summarize the plots of. Lakelore surpasses all of them. Encapsulating Anna-Marie McLemore’s gorgeous magical realism at its finest, Lakelore is the story of two nonbinary teens navigating the dangerous, complicated, multifaceted world of their own minds and histories, all while coming to terms with what it means to love yourself. At once ethereal and impossibly grounded in reality, there is so much of this story nearly impossible to put into words—and yet it’s so utterly amazing that I feel like I do it a disservice by not attempting to.

Lakelore is, in one word, stunning. McLemore (who is also the author of some of my other absolute favorite books, such as Blanca and Roja, Wild Beauty, and When the Moon Was Ours) weaves realism and magic together so smoothly with their beautiful writing that the two flow into one another so naturally they feel inseparable; the world they draw with relatively straightforward language is so evocative and gorgeous that I couldn’t help but be absorbed by it. Always thoughtful, reflective, and intentional, the many threads of Lakelore became something incredibly deep beneath McLemore’s deft pen. This book made me feel utterly heard to a degree few others ever have through the power and authenticity of its protagonists’ struggles, and the beauty of their evolving awarenesses of themselves.

​Far too many books become ‘single-issue’; Lore and Bastián, instead, lie at the intersection of many identities—neurodivergence, race, gender—and yet this story never becomes ‘about’ any one of these. Instead, it focuses on the two people behind them, whose nuanced and complex narratives are built far more around who they are, their experiences, and how the world has treated them because of their identities—and, particularly, how they intersect—than simply using those identities as checked-off diversity boxes, creating a pair of protagonists who are refreshingly, beautifully, and sometimes devastatingly real. I can’t think of another book starring two characters who are as complex and human as these two, or who I love quite this much. Deft, magical, and truly incredible, I highly recommend Lakelore to readers ages twelve and up, particularly those who love magical realism and queer, diverse fantasy. 

By Nico

A lush garden grown where once the ground was dry and inhospitable. A family of women with flowers at their fingertips. A secret buried deep in the earth, waiting to find the sun.

The grounds of La Pradera were empty and parched until the Nomeolvides women filled them with flowers a century ago and made this odd estate their home. Estrella and her cousins are the latest generation of Nomeolvides to fill the flowerbeds with the blossoms that bloom from their hands, and to bear the weight of their family’s terrible curse: whoever they fall in love with will cease to exist, never to be seen again. Raised alongside three generations of Nomeolvides women, Estrella knows it is her fate to fall in love and have her heart broken, just as she knows blue flowers will always spill from her palms when she least expects them, and that her family’s curses are inescapable.

But the Nomeolvides’ way of life for a century is jeapordized when two strangers intrude upon La Pradera’s lush serenity, bringing with them a tangle of questions. One, a boy, is a mystery; he remembers nothing of his past, not even his own name, and yet may be the key to understanding the Nomeolvides’ curse. And the other, a man, seeks to shatter Estrella’s way of life—but he may only succeed in exposing the ugliest secrets deep within the earth.

​Anna-Marie McLemore is one of my absolute favorite writers; their luminous writing, stunning characters, and unusual plots have made every book I’ve read by them an instant favorite (some of their other works include Blanca and Roja, Lakelore, and When the Moon Was Ours). Wild Beauty was no exception. Intricate, gorgeous, and thought-provoking, this tale of family, love, and prejudice wove into something as deep as it is beautiful, a thoughtful reflection on the legacies our families leave us with and the price of forgetting the histories our world is built upon. But this fantasy world of flowers and curses is also part of our own, and the way McLemore seamlessly brings hatred, prejudice and dehumanization truly brings this story vibrantly, and devastatingly, alive. Lush, reflective, and powerful, I highly recommend Wild Beauty to readers ages twelve and up.