By Ella

Yamilet Flores might not be religious, but when her mom sends her to a local Catholic school, she’s pretty sure it will solve all her problems. She’ll be academically pushing herself and making her mom proud of her. She’ll be able to keep her brother out of the trouble he always got into at their old school. And, maybe most importantly, she can get away from the best friend who outed and rejected her last year, and start over somewhere where no one knows she’s gay. Yami will definitely make a convincing straight girl. Right?

But then she meets Bo on day one of her new school. Bo: who stands up to the questionable academics in their classes, is bedecked with enough rainbow pins for Yami to be sure she’s gay too, and is really, really cute.

Yami is determined not to get a crush on Bo. After all, she has to be a convincing straight girl, and straight girls definitely don’t fall in love with their cute, lesbian friends. But as she begins to realize that denial can only get her so far, Yami has to figure out whether the alternative is even a possibility.

Combining hilarious twists and characters with a beautifully authentic storyline, I couldn’t help but fall in love with Yami and The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School. I was quite literally laughing from the very first page as Yami’s take on Catholic school unfolded in a brilliant cross between You Should See Me In A Crown and Heretics Anonymous, but this story also goes far deeper than that comparison implies, with a powerful undertone of self-discovery and identity that was utterly beautiful. This is one of those novels which truly feels real, with a layered complexity and diverse set of relationships that brought Yami and her story to life. The relationships in this story bear a second mention; Yami’s relationships with her parents, her brother, Bo, and her other friends are each distinct and powerfully realistic, and their choices, conflicts, and interactions gave this book an extra, incredibly authentic dimensionality. ​The Lesbiana’s Guide often strays into more difficult or potentially painful topics as well, but every moment is carried out with depth and sensitivity, so that this book feels not like an issue book or something remotely preachy, but like an ode to the many layers of every person’s life and the ability each of us have to support one another. Full of strength, resilience, and deft writing, I highly recommend The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Ella

Potosí, 1600s. Spain has established a viceroyalty in one of its newest colonies, Peru. The streets of the city are full of beauty and chaos and danger, hardly the place for two young ladies from the upper class.

But at night, Kiki de Sonza and Ana Lezama de Urinza, daughter and ward of one of Peru’s wealthiest men, trade their voluminous skirts and amenable smiles for daggers wielded with the upmost precision, and venture into the streets—to explore, to protect those who can’t protect themselves, and to experience the brilliant, forbidden love that’s long burgeoned between them.

These two parts of their lives have long been separate: streets by night, skirts by day. But when Kiki’s brother is murdered the night of her engagement announcement, their only hope of finding answers lies on the winding streets of Potosí—where they will either find the truth, or become the murderer’s next victims.

I read and loved the Girl at Midnight series by Melissa Grey years ago, so when I discovered she had a new series, featuring historical adventure, sword-wielding lesbians, and a murder mystery, I immediately knew I had to check it out. Valiant Ladies certainly didn’t disappoint! I loved Kiki and Ana—although I don’t always love books with a prominent romance plotline, both characters were so brilliant that I couldn’t resist rooting for them. With witty dialogue, righteous determination, and an absolutely fabulous dynamic, I didn’t want to put this book down. The historical aspect of Valiant Ladies was also excellent, and I love how the characters never felt like they were solely reflecting modern sensibilities about queer characters or feminism; instead, they all felt wholly alive in the historical setting. I didn’t go into this story expecting its twisting, complex plot, but it more than delivered. Melissa Grey weaves a multilayered, clever mystery full of surprises and quirks that propelled the story forward at a swift and ever-engaging pace. Full of vibrance, fire, and action, I highly recommend Valiant Ladies to lovers of queer romance and historical fiction ages thirteen and up. 

By Ella

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 Ella

​Bianca Torre is afraid of everything.

And not just normal phobias, either, like spiders and snakes (#2 and #25 on their ever-expanding list of fears). Also FEAR #39: MASCOTS. And #49: DYING BEFORE THE CONCLUSION OF ONE PIECE. Not to mention #11: TELLING MY PARENTS I’M A RAGING LESBIAN.

As an anxious birder questioning their gender identity, #6: INITATING CONVERSATION has mostly kept Bianca’s social life on hold. Besides hanging out with their anime-obsessed neighbor, Anderson, their outside interactions are limited to spying on neighbors with their birding telescope and weekly hikes with a local birding group, where they’ve developed an accidental crush on Elaine Yee, the newest member of the group (#13: BEAUTIFUL GIRLS).

All that changes when Bianca watches a neighbor get murdered through their telescope—a murder the police claim was a suicide. Bianca is certain they owe it to the stranger to learn what really happened, but there are a few problems. Like #5: DEAD BODIES. Or the threatening dead birds left in front of their house.

The man was investigating something, or someone—and he got murdered for getting too close to the truth. And now Bianca, along with Anderson and Elaine, has been pulled into the investigation, too.

Bianca Torre is left with a terrifying ultimatum: get to the bottom of things, fast—or become the murderers’ next victim.

As soon as I read the description of Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything, I knew it was exactly the kind of book I would like. I was wrong: I didn’t like it. I loved it. This book has everything I possibly hoped for and more: murderers in plague masks, queer anxiety rep, school theater productions, geeky friendships, clever humor, birdwatching, budding romance, and lesbian sheep. Hands-down, this will be one of my favorite reads of 2023.

Bianca was an amazing protagonist. Despite their long list of fears—or maybe in part because of them—their voice and sense of humor are impeccable, yanking me into their life from the very first page. I rarely encounter such incredibly complex protagonists, or ones I connect with so deeply, but Bianca effortlessly fulfils both of these. If you love character-driven, deeply relatable characters, this is definitely a book for you!

​But Bianca isn’t the only reason I fell in love with this story. Every detail of Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything is excellent, from the quirky and weird minor characters and Bianca’s murder investigation to the theatrical interests of their mom and older sister. Whether you love twisty plots, witty writing, or fabulous characters, I highly recommend Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Ella

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 Ella

​The remote city of Ilvernath is known for little more than being ordinary. With quaint shops, dense forests, and talented spellmakers, it’s little-known and little-noticed, unassuming, perhaps, to a fault.

But every generation, with the rise of the Blood Moon, each of Ilvernath’s seven most powerful families sends one of its children into a cursed duel to the death. The victor’s family controls the city’s high magic reserves until the next Tournament. The other children put forward as potential champions by their families are just more sacrifices to the brutal curse they put in place centuries ago.

For centuries, the tournament, along with Ilvernath’s high magic itself—a dangerous and incredibly powerful natural resource believed to be depleted from the world—has been a carefully kept secret. But ever since the publication of a tell-all book, A Tradition of Tragedy, which bears all Ilvernath’s secrets to the world, newspapers throughout the country have been plastered with headlines about this unassuming city that sends its children to their deaths. For the first time, as each family declares their champion, the world is watching with revolution and fascination as this centuries-old story unfolds, and the seven champions of Ilvernath battle for their families, survival, and glory.

Alistair Lowe has been raised on monster stories by his family, the undisputed villains of Ilvernath, but he wants to win not for them, but for his beloved brother. Isobel Macaslan was thrust accidentally into the spotlight as the first champion revealed, and a desperate attempt to survive might cost her her life. Briony Thorburn has wanted all her life to be her family’s champion, but the meddling of external powers might not give her that chance. And even though Gavin Greive’s family has never won the tournament—or perhaps because of it—he’s willing to sacrifice anything to survive, even the very force that keeps him alive.

But maybe this time, Ilvernath’s ancient story will end a little differently.

With the atmospheric writing of Where Dreams Descend and the emotional ambiguity and intensity of Six of Crows and An Ember in the Ashes, I knew as soon as I started reading that All of Us Villains was going to become an instant favorite. This is one of those brilliant books with an amazing premise that not only lived up to everything I was hoping it would be, but far surpassed it. Complex, intense, and sometimes brutally honest, the intertwined stories of Alistair, Isobel, Briony, and Gavin wove one of the most complicated and multifaceted stories I’ve had the pleasure to read, going far beyond subverting traditional notions of heroism and what makes a villain into a tale so morally ambiguous that the term moral ambiguity barely begins to cover it. Alistair was my favorite character—he’s a character for anyone who has ever loved a villain—but it was a narrow win; all four of the narrators are utterly spectacular, with such nuance and realism that each utterly leapt off the page into my mind. Their struggles and distinct personalities were so vibrant, and the conflicts both between them and inside themselves propelled the story forward at an electric pace. The worldbuilding was stunning; I’ve never read a book with a world quite like All of Us Villain’s, a modern-ish world where magic is carried in spellstones and bought and sold like any other every-day tool. Every inch of it felt fresh and different; even the tournament, a familiar trope in YA literature, was unlike any I’ve ever read. Fast-paced, twisty, intense, and spectacular, I highly recommend All of Us Villains (and the AMAZING sequel!) to readers ages fourteen and up.  

Note: All of Us Villains is stunning on audio--highly recommended! 

By Ella

Princess Alyrra has never been understood or even accepted by her royal family, who deem her too honest, too weak, and too unintelligent. When the king of Menaiya, a nearby country whose size and power dwarfs Alyrra's tiny homeland, requests that she marry his son Kestrin, she sees no reason to refuse. Leaving everything she knows be-hind doesn't sound so bad, after all--even if the rumors claim that Kestrin chose her for her disposability, a supposedly sought-after trait in the fraught, danger-ous Menaiyan court. Alyrra might prefer a life away from royal conflicts and intrigue, but at least she can escape her family. 

But while traveling to Menaiya, a powerful and mysterious woman steals Alyrra's very identity and gives it to her maid, leaving Alyrra a lowly, cast-off servant in a foreign land and her treacherous maid to marry Kestrin, and, surely, to betray him to the same sorceress. 

​Alyrra knows she should warn Kestrin of her upcoming betrayal--and yet doing so would require reclaiming her life as princess. And in Menaiya, working as a goose girl beside the lower-class citizens of her new home, Alyrra finally realizes the quiet life she's always dreamed of, away from the tense politics of court. 

But Menaiya is also rife with injustice. And as Alyrra begins to see more clearly the painful effects of the kingdom's shortcomings, and the suffering it's inflicted upon the people who have become her friends, she must decide whether she will stay the goose girl forever--or if she will give up her quiet life for a chance to stand up for the people who need it. 

I loved Thorn, a thoughtful and unique take on a classic fairytale which lends it powerful realism and striking beauty. To begin with, Alyrra's subversion of the Goose Girl is phenomenal; having the heroine welcome her lowly position rather than resenting it, as well as gladly leaving her family, was unusual and added unique depth to her character, helping me connect with her due to the simple fact that many fairy-tale heroines are difficult to truly relate to, and Alyrra's contradiction of these tropes lent her a refreshing dimensionality. Her gradual discovery of the injustices surrounding her, too, felt anything but contrived: Thorn became so much deeper as she struggled to reconcile the life she was leading with the possibility of making others' existences better, and the authenticity of her choices brought a quiet power to this story which "The Goose Girl" certainly lacked. This book gives voice to its characters' struggles without becoming overwhelmed by them; even the most difficult of topics were handled with sensitivity and thoughtfulness. I highly recommend Thorn ​to readers ages twelve and up who enjoy fairy tale retellings and strong female characters. 

By Ella

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. 

By Ella

Mar’s papá is one of the greatest pirates in the Caribbean—and one of the most feared by the Spanish conquerors whom he steals from. But for Mar, their papá’s ship is more than a home; it’s their sanctuary, the only place where they can use their mysterious fire and ice magia without being called a demon, and where they can be their authentic self without people sorting them into gendered boxes that have never really fit.

On Mar’s sixteenth birthday, though, their way of life is shattered when they learn that their papá made a bargain years ago with el Diablo himself—and that he’s come to collect his price. In the chaos of fire and wind that he summons, the ship goes down, and Mar is the only survivor.

Saved by irritating—and inexplicably pretty—son of a rival pirate ship’s captain, Mar is left to forge a new life for themselves, one where no one knows who they are or what they can do and discovery means death. And overhanging it all is el Diablo’s painful ultimatum: either Mar sacrifices themself to save their father by the time two moon cycles have passed, or they’ll lose him forever.

Mar must fend off hostile pirates, Spanish soldiers, an irritatingly persistent demonio, and their own uncertainty and insecurity if they want to have any hope of saving their father—and of getting through the next few weeks alive.

Fast-paced, absorbing, and brilliant, The Wicked Bargain is fantasy pirates at their finest, perfect for fans of The Sunbearer Trials. I absolutely love the historical fantasy world Novoa has woven in this book—blending real-life events (Latinx pirates, Caribbean conflicts with the Spanish colonizers) and fantasy elements (magia, el Diablo, demonios) into a riveting, atmospheric story that I couldn’t put down. Mar was such an awesome protagonist—their realistic, powerful internal conflicts and nuanced gender identity truly brought this story to life for me. I particularly loved their interactions with the supporting cast, particularly Bas and Demi (my two other favorite characters), which had a depth and spark that helped absorb me in their world. I highly recommend The Wicked Bargain to anyone ages thirteen and up who loves engrossing, multilayered YA fantasy, particularly that which stars trans and LGBTQ+ characters. 

By Ella

Jam knows there are no monsters left in Lucille. She knows this because everyone knows this, because all the terrible people who liked hurting everyone else were killed in the revolution that took them out of power in the government and in jobs and in homes, and freed everyone from their selfishness and cruelty.

That hasn’t kept her from wondering what monsters really looked like, though, if they had horns and claws or looked no different from her parents or her best friend, Redemption. People don’t like to talk about the monsters anymore, don’t want to dwell on a time everyone knows is over. But Jam imagines that they looked just like any other person. That that was why they stayed in power for so long.

When a creature made of horns and claws climbs out of one of Jam’s mother’s paintings, it certainly looks like a monster. But instead, Pet—for that is the creature’s name—is hunting one, a monster that has slipped through Lucille’s cracks and lives among them. Among them, and in Redemption’s house, no less.

Jam doesn’t want to believe it. After all, who wants to believe in monsters? It’s far prettier to believe that all the monsters are gone, just like she’s always been taught. It’s far easier to look away from the wrongs that could be happening, just underneath her nose.

But Pet won’t let her look away anymore. And the only thing more difficult than realizing that there still are monsters is daring to look them in the eye.

​Pet is truly incredible. Powerful, succinct, and layered despite its relatively low page count, I’ve wanted to read this book for years, and it didn’t disappoint. There are few authors who can pull off such a deep, philosophical story without ever feeling preachy or contrived, but Emezi does it effortlessly, weaving a story as profound as it is profoundly unique. They take familiar tropes—dystopia/utopia, monsters and angels—and turns them into something as unfamiliar and jarringly powerful as Pet itself. The humanity of the characters—even Pet, who is anything but human—grants Pet even more depth, and the conflicts and worldviews they each present help weave Lucille into a world that is devastatingly believable, one where everyone would rather believe in the world’s good than see the monsters lurking among them. At once a searing critique of forgetting and complacency and a challenge to the hideous monsters we’ve all been taught to believe in, Pet is a perfect read for book groups or anyone who wants to see their own beliefs challenged, and dare to, as Pet tells Jam, truly see the world for what it is. I highly recommend Pet to readers ages thirteen and up, particularly those who enjoy books that defy easy boxes or have a queernormative society. 

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.