By Ella

The Dragon’s Promise is the sequel to Six Crimson Cranes and the final book in the Six Crimson Cranes duology by Elizabeth Lim.

Look out – there are spoilers for Six Crimson Cranes below!

Shiori promised her stepmother before her death that she would return her broken dragon pearl to its rightful owner. And now, Shiori is determined to fulfil it—even if it means risking her life when she enters the underwater dragon kingdom, Ai’long, with the full intention of outwitting its infamous ruler.

There, she must navigate a complex web of politics, relationships, and powerful magic which could doom her to a fate worse than death. But above the ocean’s surface, a far more disastrous challenge is brewing, and it will be up to Shiori to escape the dragon’s kingdom, return her stepmother’s pearl, and defeat a powerful force of evil once and for all before it destroys her homeland forever.

​The Dragon’s Promise was an unusual but satisfying series-closer which tied together the myriad threads from Six Crimson Cranes and its own story. As before, Lim’s settings and descriptions are highly atmospheric, and I particularly enjoyed the sections set in Ai’long – the dragons’ world and society felt distinct and unique, and I liked the complex interpersonal and political conflicts there. The plotline surrounding Shiori’s stepmother was also excellent and one of my favorite parts of this duology; the ‘wicked stepmother’ trope is so common that Lim’s thoughtful and interesting reversal of it was definitely a highlight, and gave this book a deeper emotional core. I recommend The Dragon’s Promise and the Six Crimson Cranes duology to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Ella

Imani is a Shield, tasked with protecting the desert-swathed kingdom of Qalia from the monsters that patrol the dangerous, surrounding sands. With an affinity for metal granted by the magical tea that gives Imani’s people their magic, her ferocity and talent has earned her the nickname of Djinni Slayer.

But Imani is only following in the footsteps of her older brother, Atheer, who was once a great Shield too. Now, though, his reputation is ruined after he was accused of stealing Qalia’s tea, sure proof to the rest of the world that he wasn’t who they thought he was. More than anything, Imani wants to know why he did it—but Atheer vanished a year ago, believed to have died in the desert, and the answers he might have provided gone with him.

When Imani stumbles across Qayn, a djinni who claims to have known her brother, she’s torn between her duty as a Shield and her desire to uncover what really happened to Atheer—a decision made all the more difficult when Qayn tells her that Atheer was smuggling tea magic to the people beyond the desert, people who, according to all Imani’s been taught, aren’t even supposed to exist.

​Alongside Qayn and Taha, an arrogant Shield who has been Imani’s longtime rival, she sets out across the desert to uncover what really happened to Atheer before he endangers her home. But when what she’s been raised to believe and her beloved brother’s ideas are in conflict, who can Imani believe? 
​
Spice Road is an atmospheric, evocative, and fast-paced fantasy adventure perfect for fans of intense, worldbuilding YA books like An Ember in the Ashes. The world of Qalia immediately pulled me in; the uniqueness of magic-infused tea and the difficulties which came with it—like needing to drink the tea frequently for power to be maintained—felt utterly natural and fully realized, a far cry from many fantasy magic systems that are unique in concept but contrived in execution. But even more than the magic, I loved the blend of a seemingly utopian society and its entrenched prejudices, two sides to this country which played out beautifully through its varied characters and the conflicts which rose organically between them through their wildly different views on the same society and its institutions. This natural, authentic interplay honestly sums up the characters of Spice Road; from the first page, Imani’s conflict and determination helped carry her struggles and journey throughout the story. But the characters are always at their best when interacting with others, because these conversations and conflicts serve to develop each of them and reveal the unique prejudices, views, backgrounds, and relationships which make them come alive so vividly. I’m already looking forward to the sequel! Detailed and absorbing, I highly recommend Spice Road to readers ages thirteen and up. 

By Ella

Frances, a young seamstress in Paris, is sure she’s about to lose her job. She’s long dreamed of crafting unconven-tional, spectacular gowns, but without the credits or accomplishments she needs to be taken seriously, her inadvis-able foray into more creative designs has just made her traditionalist employer furious. But instead of ruining her career, Frances’s work attracts the attention of a wealthy customer who offers her a new position—one where her creativity isn’t hemmed in by someone else’s notions of what shouldn’t be done. To her surprise, the customer is the crown prince, Sebastian.

Sebastian has always loved dresses, and now more than ever—with his parents pushing him to find the perfect princess to marry—he needs to escape the palace to find people who see him for who he really is. When he glimpses Frances’s flamboyant handiwork, he knows immediately he wants to hire her himself—and when she agrees, it seems like a dream come true for both of them.

For the first time, Frances is able to make whatever dresses she likes. And while Sebastian still has to play the perfect prince during the day, courting princesses and pleasing his parents, at night he and Frances slip into the city and he becomes Lady Crystallia, wealthy and unconventional, whose dress sense is admired and whose true identity is a carefully kept secret.

But how long can this secret be kept? And if Frances remains a secret’s dressmaker, can she ever become the famous seamstress of her dreams? 
​
I absolutely loved The Prince and the Dressmaker. The stunning, atmospheric illustrations drew me immediately into Frances’s story; the tale flew by far quicker than I wanted it to! There was so much beauty to this story, both in the pictures and the plot itself; Frances’s quirky determination and Sebastian’s lonely hope sprang to life with vividness and sensitivity, blending together into a lovely, whimsical tale full of friendship and realism that feels as genuine as it does lovable. I particularly loved Sebastian’s understanding of his identity, which is fluid and natural instead of feeling predetermined or contrived. I highly recommend The Prince and the Dressmaker to anyone who loves queer graphic novels, particularly those with happy endings.
 
Note: I first picked up The Prince and the Dressmaker because of FalconX’s awesome review of it several years ago—you can read it here! 

By Ella

The snowstorm of a century has hit Atlanta. Every radio station and TV channel is advising everyone to stay home. But for Stevie, staying home is not ​an option--not when tonight is her last chance to apologize to her girlfriend, Sola, and show her how much she means to her. And she's not going to be able to pull off something this big on her own. 

Told through a set of overlapping, intertwining stories, Whiteout is the story of Stevie and her friends' attempt to reunite her and Sola in a way so big, so meaningful, that she won't be able to help but forgive her--and each of them falling in love along the way. 

​I don't usually read romance novels, but I love short stories, particularly intercon-nected ones, and so I couldn't resist Whiteout​! It didn't disappoint. With each chapter a mini-story centering around a different character's role in Stevie's grand plan (and each character written by a different one of the book's authors), every character's tale felt different and unique, offering a different angle and layer of storytelling which led to a book which felt well-rounded, unique, and satisfying. Although I liked all of the characters, Stevie was definitely a favorite, whose love of science, sometimes painful flaws, and determination helped make her a protagonist I was committed to seeing succeed. I recommend Whiteout to readers ages twelve and up who enjoy romance or interconnected short stories. 

By Ella

For a century, Mina’s people have cast a beautiful girl into the ocean every year to become the Sea God’s Bride, and appease his wrath. It is believed only this can keep the storms that have plagued her homeland at bay—and that, one day, the Sea God’s true bride will put an end to the chaos altogether.

But when Shim Cheong is chosen as the sacrifice, Mina refuses to let the girl her beloved brother loves become just another girl vanishing beneath the waves. When the time comes for her to be thrown into the sea, Mina leaps into the sea in her stead—and is thrust into a world full of secrets and gods, where old tales provide only the barest guidance, and her future—or lack thereof—might depend on a single red thread.

Here, Mina must uncover a plot against the Sea God, unravel the rivalries and factions of those who live beneath the sea, and choose between two worlds if she wants to save the world she came from, and all those she left behind.

I fully admit that the stunning cover is the reason I first picked up The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea—but the imaginative worldbuilding, unexpected twists, and strong characters are why I kept reading. The atmospheric setting and strong mythological threads added such depth to all the details and moments; I often felt as though I could see the whole world around Mina. Particularly as the story drew on, there were several twists I wholly wasn’t expecting, and the multilayered relationships, alliances, old feuds, and disagreements of the gods and other beings who inhabit this world gave the whole story a complexity and secretiveness I highly enjoyed. The absorbing, beautiful prose was also utterly amazing! I highly recommend The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea to readers ages twelve and up.

By Ella
​
Thea Fowler was supposed to be as ruthless as her infamous mother, Clementine, has become. In the weeks, months, after the disaster that des-troyed her home, she was supposed to learn that the only way to have power in a world ruled by men is to take it for yourself. She was supposed to be audacious and commanding and stoic. She was supposed to be as terrifying and steely as Clementine herself, who has hardened in her resolve into the most dangerous pirate on the seas.

She was supposed to be just like Clementine, just like her mother, who has turned all her old pain and fury into becoming a person who men will have no choice but to listen to.

But all Thea has learned is that she will never live up to her mother’s ex-pectations—that, to her, she will always be weak. All she’s learned is that being Thea—quiet Thea, emotional Thea—will never be enough.

It should be easy: running away with a handsome boy who says he loves her for all the reasons Clementine has berated her all her life. It should be easy, making a new path for herself, away from the swaying decks and painful expectations of her mother’s ships.

Making a new path for herself. It’s what Clementine would have done.

But Clementine’s version of strength can only bring Thea so far when she has always failed at being her mother’s daughter. And when old and new betrayals crisscross through Thea’s life—most painfully of all, her own—she must find her own way of being strong.  

I first read The Sea Knows My Name immediately after its release, and despite all my plans to the contrary, it kept me up far later than I intended, absorbed utterly in Thea’s world. But it took several months of thoughtful contemplation, and then a reread, for me to figure out how to properly write a review on it. Full of powerful, lyrical prose and realism so unshakable that it electrifies every sentence, this is one of the most stunning books I have read in years—and it took some time to decide how to write a review that would do it justice.

I utterly fell in love with this book. Robson (also the author of Girls at the Edge of the World) creates a world and a set of characters so vividly real it almost feels wrong to call this book fantasy. After all, this story is nothing like classic fantasy novels or even a typical pirate tale, full of swashbuckling triumphs, twinkling fairies, and the unmovable hand of destiny. Instead, it is nuanced, as quiet and emotional as its protagonist, and as thoughtful and powerful as Robson’s debut. Unconventional in the best possible way, this is a tale about family and stories, about the devastating expectations of a patriarchal world and the different kinds of strength it takes to live in it. Instead of falling into traditional patterns of storytelling and expectations concerning how women are treated and portrayed, The Sea Knows My Name actively stands up against them.

Thea defies and stands up to the expectations of her society without openly defying them, reminding the reader undeniably that there is more than one way to be a woman, and that being quiet or having feelings does not mean you accept or embody the expectations of a patriarchal society. Conversely, Clementine is in so many ways the classic YA fantasy heroine from the early 2010s—ruthless, determined, and feminist because she wants to set herself apart (the infamous ‘not like other girls’ trope). Thea openly defies this, contradicting the idea that one must be masculine and unemotional to be feminist, but in her own way, Clementine does not fall into the stereotype, either. They are, neither of them, wrong or stereotypical; instead, they are both strong in different ways, and Robson’s subtle yet determined way of weaving this thread and the contrast between them is utterly extraordinary.

With every plot twist and image, every line of dialogue, Robson builds a world and a story so spectacular that feeling ambivalent about this book is utterly out of the question. With vibrancy, realism, and a sometimes painful determination to tell the truth, she weaves something fulfilling out of Thea’s pain and conflict and all the patriarchy and control in the world, something that leaves the reader both empowered and deeply touched by the singular power Robson wields with this deceptively simple, lyrical novel. Raising questions about silence, freedom, love, power, strength, expectation, feminism, judgement, survival, and so much more, perhaps the starkest beauty of all in The Sea Knows My Name is its ability to weave so much together into a narrative that does not content itself with being simply ‘convincing,’ but is utterly real. We need more books with characters like Thea, and more writers as thoughtful and powerful as Robson. Devastating, beautiful, and full of deft realism, I highly recommend The Sea Knows My Name to readers ages thirteen and up.

By Ella

The Sunbearer Trials occur once every decade to renew the sacrifice the sun made centuries ago and keep the selfish, power-hungry Obsidian gods at bay. Ten talented semidioses are selected to compete for twin honors: the winner, to carry the sun’s light across the land; and the loser, to sacrifice themself to keep the sun shining. The winner is always the child of one of the Gold dioses, who train all their lives for the Sunbearer Trials and live far removed from the humans they protect. When Jade semidioses like Teo are chosen, they’re practically considered a shoo-in for the sacrifice. 

Teo isn’t exactly looking forward to watching the Sunbearer Trials—he sees them as yet another way for the Golds to show off their superiority. Plus, it seems all too likely that the only Gold he likes—his best friend, Niya—is going to be chosen for the Trials, and he can’t quite reassure himself that she won’t become the sacrifice. 

It’s the last thing he’s expecting when he’s chosen for the Sunbearer Trials himself. 

Now, Teo must race against privileged Golds—including his ex-best friend, Aurelio, who everyone thinks will become the next Sunbearer—for glory, fame, and simply survival. And even with his fellow competitors Niya and Xiu, another Jade, on his side, the chances of one of them becoming the sacrifice seems higher with every passing trial. 

As the trials seem determined to not go according to plan and Teo realizes that every outcome will be painful, he has to fight harder than ever for the survival of him and his friends—no matter how noble losing might be. 

I've wanted to read Cemetery Boys, Aiden Thomas's debut, since it first came out, but somehow I found myself picking up The Sunbearer Trials first--and I'm so glad I did. I absolutely loved it. From the first page, I felt utterly absorbed in the setting; although complex, it never became too complicated or confusing, instead adding atmosphere and a beautifully queernormative society that only made this book an even more amazing read. Teo is such an incredibly relatable, funny, and deep character who I truly would follow wherever the story goes next; his struggles, decisions, relationships, and determination are both believable and inescapably realistic, and he's the kind of hero I feel like I don't see often enough. This book also features one of the most distinct secondary casts I can remember reading recently--there are about half a dozen competitors (and quite a number of gods) who aren't one of the principal characters, and yet their motivations, personalities, and relationships are so extraordinarily vibrant, distinct, and well-defined that they all very well could have been. Although there are many familiar fantastical threads that run through The Sunbearer Trials, Thomas turns every one of them into something unique and distinct, and I was constantly surprised by twists and turns of the story, turning it into something I hadn't expected but couldn't help but love. I highly recommend The Sunbearer Trials to readers ages twelve and up, particularly those who love LGBTQ fantasy and strong, distinct characters.

By Ella

Rhaskos. A Thracian slave, worth far less than the animals he cares for. Separated from his mother, forced to serve a master who curses him and beats him. He draws horses in the dirt, and dreams of freedom.

Melisto. She caused her mother no end of trouble as a baby. She has never stopped. The future looks as bleak to her as a stretch of flawless fabric: what everyone expects, and so easily ignored. Serving Artemis as a Little Bear might be the first and last chance, however temporary, for her to be herself.

Against the backdrop of ancient Greece, told in poetry and prose and in fragments of the past, this is the tale of a boy and a girl whose futures are dark to them—and who might, through the impossible friendship they form, at last find the peace they have both been searching for.

Amber & Clay is unique and utterly absorbing, blending historical fiction, magic, and archaeology into something almost improbably powerful and beautiful. I’ve read a handful of books which use both prose and poetry, and honestly none of them have pulled it off very well; there always feels as though there is an abrupt shift when transitioning from one to another. But Schlitz’s prose is so lyrical and deliberate that the story flowed seamlessly from one style to another, and brought the book together more fully and made it feel more concrete rather than splintering it into sections. Not only that, but this ranks among one of the most excellent historical novels I have read (it’s set in Greece, particularly the Athens area, around the fifth century BCE)—not just for how it feels as though it stays utterly true to the time period, but because the feelings and conflicts and dreams of Rhaskos and Melisto are so bright and evocative in my mind that they might be living next door, not twenty-six centuries ago.

To be honest, of all the books I’ve reviewed, Amber & Clay is one of the hardest to describe. Its scope feels enormous, and yet deeply personal; its struggles, concrete and yet ephemeral. So much happens, but it isn’t the tale of the vast shifts of war and politics occurring in the background. It isn’t even a grandiose interpretation of what it must’ve been like, growing up without any chance at having rights. Instead of seeking to change the world, Rhaskos and Melisto both simply seek to live with it: to live in a society which they see not as unjust and discriminatory as we do now, but simply as how the world is. This crucial and too-unique nuance lends the story a vibrant realism which it might otherwise lack, and helps every detail of the story, its characters, and its setting shine with power and truth. Amber & Clay is, quite simply, extraordinary—I highly recommend it to readers ages eleven and up.

By Lina 

The princess with flaming hair, signifying war; the coveted bride with blushing cheeks, representing bloodshed; the girl who, despite the battles fought over her hand in marriage, never speaks a single line---who really is Lavinia of Virgil's epic The Aeneid? In Le Guin's imagination, she is thoughtful, caring, quiet, fiercely intelligent: a leader in her own right, who loves her people and her freedom, and refuses to be bound to the future others choose for her.

In Lavinia, the titular character traces the story of her life, one ignored or overlooked for centuries. She tells of a happy childhood, the only daughter of King Latinus, wandering the forests and fields of Latium with her best friend; of the sudden arrival of suitors vying for her hand in marriage, and thus the end of her freedom; of the Trojan stranger, foretold of in omens, who arrives on their shore; of the fated war fought with her own future as its prize. And she tells the story that comes after, of her happiness and heartbreak, victories and betrayals, and of her fierce, unyielding determination to protect her people and those she loves. 

Lavinia can certainly be enjoyed by those who haven't read The Aeneid---it's a great story, beautifully told, either way---but for those who have, it's simply stunning, a retelling of a classic tale that faithfully follows the threads and characters of the original while deftly smoothing out its inconsistencies, frustrations, and occasional illogicality. I felt as though I was not so much reading a new version of an ancient epic as experiencing Virgil's story through different, perhaps more thoughtful eyes, making it equal parts fascinating and delightful to follow Lavinia's classic tale: or, perhaps more accurately, to discover it. Given the casual misogyny of the original, it's immensely satisfying to read feminist Le Guin's take on The Aeneid, which, while faithful to the original, often approaches its content in a markedly different way. Lavinia is a compelling, independent character who never falls into the trap of some modern historical fiction which grafts modern opinions onto historical characters; even her cruel mother Amata, it is gently suggested, has suffered at the hands of patriarchy perhaps more than Virgil was willing to admit---or able to notice. 

Le Guin's mastery of building fantasy worlds is well-suited to evoking the still-rustic land of Latium before it was Rome, a place steeped in ancient tradition and folklore, guided by fate and strange omens as much as political strategy; she leaves the lines between history, ancient invention, and modern interpretation delightfully opaque. The final touch is the introduction of Virgil himself as a character, which, rather than detracting from the main story, enhances it with quiet questions of fate and perspective and who tells enduring tales, and gently reminds readers---and Lavinia herself---of the many layers of existence and opinion needed to tell a tale. Riveting and evocative, I would highly recommend Lavinia to readers ages fourteen and up. 

By Lina

​When first year Malena Malavé Rosario is punished for not wearing a bra to school---an option a vicious sunburn rendered impossible---she's enraged, but feels helpless to protest. She's facing too much already: trying to build a new life with her mother, less than a month after Hurricane María ravaged her beloved island, and navigating a new school, all while worrying about her father, who's still in Puerto Rico, helping others rebuild. Besides, given the slights and stereotypes that she has already experienced, she's not sure anyone would listen to her.     

Senior Ruby McAlister is an outspoken feminist who has always wanted to make a difference---she's just never quite been sure how. And after years of being outshone by her older sister Olive (who has reached step five of her perfectly planned-out life: change the world) and being pressured by her overenthusiastic parents, she's not sure that she has what it takes. But when she stumbles upon a freshman getting targeted and body-shamed by the school administration thanks to the school's sexist dress code, she's determined to get involved. 

Malena is wary of Ruby's plan to protest the dress code at first---but she's also very, very tired of being seen as poor, helpless María Malena. And it's beginning to feel as though if she doesn't claim her voice now, it'll disappear forever. So she agrees. 

Malena and Ruby quickly strike up a friendship, and both are determined to stop the sexism and body-shaming the dress code enables. But pushing for change is complicated---especially in a system where some girls are treated differently than others. As their fledgling high school movement rapidly gains momentum, media coverage, and vicious backlash, they must examine their personal biases, privilege, and fears if their protests are to truly fight for justice. 

Few books present such a believable, empowering, multilayered tale of contemporary youth feminism, in all its messiness and complexity and passion and power, as Does My Body Offend You?, and it's a true joy to read a tightly-plotted, character-driven story that explores and celebrates it. It's refreshing to read a book about normal teens embracing feminism and fighting for change in their community, and even more so to read one which doesn't shy away from examining how race, economic status, and other factors influence the sexism they experience and fight---as well as how they themselves approach and understand it. Espousing support for intersectional feminism is one thing, but actually living it is often quite another, and Does My Body Offend You? does a truly excellent job of exploring how privilege infiltrates and influences work against misogyny, and promoting the importance of listening and allyship as an essential part of feminism. Malena and Ruby are both strong, compelling characters with distinct narrative voices and arcs, and I absolutely loved their friendship; the supporting cast is excellent as well (I want to be friends with so many of the characters!) The story is deftly woven and skillfully balanced between the two perspectives, making it a fast, highly engaging read. Ruby offhandedly complains about the irony of women policing other women's bodies as the beginning of the book---but it's far more complex than women simply enforcing sexism, a concept which the book explores beautifully without ever sounding preachy or contrived. Does My Body Offend You? delves into many key pieces of modern feminism in an insightful, accessible way, while never just feeling like a vehicle for explaining them---rather, it examines them through the lens how they intersect with the characters' lives. We need more books like it! An engrossing, nuanced, empowering story of activism, friendship, allyship, and finding your voice, I would highly recommend Does My Body Offend You? to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Lina

Xiomara. 1. One who is ready for war. 2. The name her mother gives her when she bursts into the world fighting so hard she has the whole barrio praying for her to survive labor. She'll swear she thought it was a saint's name. Always take her daughter to the church she lives for, tell her constantly to listen, be good, build her a cloister of accusations and arguments and punishments. Her daughter will question the church, question the men who run it, question her mother's stinging authority. And she will never be enough. Instead, she will become a fifteen-year-old girl catcalled for her curves, known for her fists and ferocity, hiding her vulnerability, hiding her exhaustion, because no one, no one else is ever going to protect her from a world that thinks it owns her. 

X. What Xiomara's secret more-than-friend from bio class calls her, warming her every time he says it, a sweet secret warmth laced with the fear of what will happen when Mami finds out and this relationship, dream, hidden grasp for freedom shatters into a million painful shards.

The Poet X. A dream. An impossibility. An escape. A girl scribbling frustrations and fears and fragments of ideas of who she really is and who she wants to be on the pages of a battered notebook when her mother isn't looking. A girl on a stage, speaking the words she hides at school, chokes down at home. A girl taking up space and speaking her truth--and loved for it. 

I absolutely adored The Poet X, a spare, piercing, perfectly balanced exploration of family, friendship, growing up and learning to live your truth when the whole world seems intent on holding you down. I'm constantly amazed by the depth that can be attained in free verse through so few words; Acevedo, a decorated slam poet, does so with ease. The characters are multilayered and deftly complex, and the family dynamics are especially well-executed, a tangle of anger and bitterness and silence made both heartwrenching and authentic by the threads of painful, complicated love embedded within it. Xiomara's voice is authentic and vibrant, and it's a true joy to watch her learn to love herself and take up the space she so wholeheartedly deserves as the story progresses. I would highly recommend The Poet X to readers ages thirteen and up, especially for discussion or book clubs. 

By Piranha T.

“The exile of the princes of Lacharra didn’t begin with swords or spells. It began inside the castle kitchen with a quest for cloves.
It began with me.”
                  -from The Flight of Swans by Sarah McGuire

​When the King of Lacharra returns to the castle with a pale-haired woman without a name and eyes full of deception, only twelve-year-old Princess Andaryn doesn’t fall to the enchantments she weaves about the royal family. And when Ryn defies her, hoping in the doing to free her family from the Queen’s devious power, it instead gives her the chance to kill Ryn's six older brothers under false pretenses.

In desperation, Ryn makes the only bargain the Queen is willing to strike. She will be silent for six years—one for each of her brothers—if she allows them to go free.

And the Queen does set them free, but in the form of six black swans. They will regain their human forms only on the night of the full moon, and, after six years, will remain that way forever.

Only Ryn knows what the Queen has done, and she is unable to tell the story to any other. As the years pass and she travels across the land, she is pursued by the Queen’s fearsome Hunters and she herself pursues what she hopes will be a way to save her brothers. But as she learns more about the curse, she begins to wonder: who is the Queen, really?

The Flight of Swans is an effortless, brilliant fantasy novel. Based off the fairy tale Six Swans, this is one of my favorite fairy-tale retellings, adhering to the original story while expanding in unexpected directions. Sarah McGuire crafts a mysterious, multilayered landscape and world, with unusual magic, interesting history, and intriguing creatures. The Queen herself is a mystery who kept me wondering until the end, with her strange history and cunning mind. And Ryn is a courageous, bold protagonist who won’t stop at anything to save her brothers, who reminded me of heroines like Kara Westfall and Ella from Ella Enchanted. This book was engaging and fast-paced, despite taking place over a long period of time, with a twisting plot which kept me guessing. I highly recommend The Flight of Swans to readers ages twelve and up who love awesome main characters, complex worlds, and brilliant retellings of fairy tales! 

By Piranha T.

Earthsea: a land of many islands and vast oceans, ancient names and fierce dragons, skillful seafarers and powerful sorcerers. The first book in the Earthsea Cycle chronicles the tale of one of its greatest mages, and his terrible mistake.

Sparrowhawk is young when he casts a heavy mist about his village to protect it from eastern raiders and is sent to Roke Island, a school where the highest arts of magic are taught, to be trained in the uses of power. Arrogant and skilled in the ways of mages, Sparrowhawk summons a spirit from the dead, and in the doing releases a nameless shadow set on his death. By the time he is healed from the wounds it inflicts, he no longer cares for pride or shows of power, for the shadow he conjured is out in the world, and though it is far from Roke Island, he knows he will never be free of it until it is destroyed. He travels across Earthsea in search of its name and the means of its destruction, a quest which will bring him to uncharted waters, scheming dragons, and the truth of the shadow which he knows he must defeat.

A Wizard of Earthsea is one of those classic fantasy books which, like Patricia A. McKillip’s Riddle-Master Trilogy or J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, doesn’t disappoint. It has an amazing world, brilliant character development, a unique storyline, and beautiful writing. I’ve read many fantasy novels, and this one remains one of my favorites, along with the others in the Earthsea Cycle (although some of the subsequent volumes are better suited to readers of twelve or thirteen years). It’s one of those books which sweeps you up and you don’t want to stop reading until the end, and it’s perfect for dedicated high fantasy fans. I highly recommend A Wizard of Earthsea to readers ages eleven and up. ​

By Piranha T.

The Icemark is not a country for the faint of heart. Hemmed in by mountains filled with strange creatures to the north, and the bloodthirsty Polypontian Empire to the south—led by the famed general Scipio Bellorum—the tiny Icemark has always struggled to defend itself. Yet it has always managed to fend off invaders—until now.

Thirrin Freer Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield is a warrior princess, the only child of the Icemark’s king. Known for her skill and daring, it has long been acknowledged that someday, she will lead her country well. But when her father is killed in a border conflict with Scipio Bellorum’s armies, fourteen-year-old Thirrin is left to lead her country into war against one of the most infamous generals in the world.

So she gathers her strength. With the help of her advisors—her elderly tutor and a witch’s son with more power than anyone seems to realize—Thirrin sets out to rally the strength of her country and forge new alliances. She joins with the fierce Hypolitan, seeks the aid of The-Land-of-the-Ghosts and the Wolf-Folk to the north, and journeys even further still, to partner with legendary Snow Leopards. But even with that added strength, will Thirrin be able to lead the Icemark into victory?

I’ve wanted to read The Cry of the Icemark for a while, and it did not disappoint. Thirrin is a strong and undauntable protagonist who reminded me of Kel, in that they are both fierce and brilliant female main characters. That said, although this is a fantasy novel with elements of a medieval/historical world, it doesn’t fall into the same mold as many others; it is multilayered and full of unusually portrayed magic, focusing on war while still having a story beyond it. The Cry of the Icemark may be about Thirrin’s struggle to protect her country, but it is so much more than that. This story is about alliances and friendships, the world and characters in some ways contributing more to the feel of the story than the war itself. Even if you feel tired of what may feel like repetitive fantasy novels, I suggest you give this one a try. And if you do like fantasy—particularly books like Seraphina, The Goblin Wood, or the Protector of the Small Quartet—this is definitely a top pick. To fantasy lovers ages eleven and up, I highly recommend The Cry of the Icemark. 

By Piranha T.
 
Words have power—and in an alternate version of Earth, they can create worlds. Certain people, known as scriptologists, are able to write worlds into reality. One of three branches of magic, scriptology is a finite and dangerous science which can easily be done wrong. And one worldbook holds a dangerous power, one which many people are desperate to use.

Elsa is from Veldana, the first—and only—populated scribed world. Her mother, Jumi, is a Veldanese scriptologist who is constantly expanding their still-new world. Perhaps Veldana’s age, and its small size, is why it is still uncomplicated by war or countries or technology.

But when Jumi is kidnapped, Elsa’s world falls apart. She escapes to Earth just before Veldana’s worldbook is burned, and without it, she knows her home is gone. Now, her hope is simply to find—and, potentially, save—her mother, who she is certain is somewhere on Earth. Yet even that may be more dangerous than she anticipates. For she is also a prize to her enemies.

With the help of a group of new friends—including Leo, a boy whose past is dark and whose future is closely tied to Elsa’s mission—she searches for the truth about her mother’s kidnappers, and a book she scribed before her disappearance. A book her kidnappers are desperate to find.

​Ink, Iron and Glass was one of those books I picked up off a library shelf, and completely engrossed me. Gwendolyn Clare’s version of a magical Victorian Italy, and her depictions of the scribed worlds, are some of the best fantasy settings I’ve read in a while, reminiscent of The Glass Sentence and The Golden Compass. The magic is interesting and unique, fitting effortlessly into the atmosphere of this book. Elsa and the supporting characters are all extremely deep and distinct, with no two quite alike, all with their own personalities which bounce off of each other beautifully. And the story itself is unpredictable and engaging. This book is one of the best I’ve read this year, and I think it would appeal to readers who loved the theme of writing in Inkheart and Finding Serendipity, but are now looking for something a little older; that said, Ink, Iron and Glass is a great novel for anyone who loves fantasy. To lovers of brilliant worlds and deep characters ages eleven and up, I highly recommend Ink, Iron and Glass.