Requiem

 Lauren Oliver

Rating: ⭐⭐½
Genre: Dystopia + Young Adult + Romance

Requiem is the conclusion to the Delirium series. In this book, the conflict between the Wilds and the cured society reaches turmoil. The story alternates between Lena, who continues fighting alongside the resistance, and Hana, now living the life the cure was supposed to guarantee and questioning her new life.

The revolution takes over in this installment, and the story focuses more on the political unrest and the characters' relationships. Lena (like most YA books of that era) is torn between Alex and Julian, while Hana is trying to figure out the society that promised her hapiness once she is cured. Seeing events unfold from both sides adds some welcome perspective, gradually revealing the cracks beneath the polished surface of the cured world.

The story builds toward a large-scale confrontation, trying to balance romance, revolution, and personal growth all at once. Whether it succeeds probably depends on what each reader was hoping to get from the finale. Rather than wrapping everything up neatly, the ending leaves several threads unresolved, inviting readers to imagine what comes after instead of providing clear-cut answers.

I rated Delirium 3 stars, Pandemonium 2.5 stars, and now Requiem lands at 2.5 stars as well. Looking back, I don't think the trilogy ever settled on a clear identity. In some ways, it feels like Lauren Oliver was experimenting with different ways of telling the story. The first novel stays entirely with Lena's perspective, the second jumps between two timelines, and the finale introduces alternating chapters from Lena and Hana. I can appreciate an author trying something different, but the constant shifts in narrative structure made the series feel a little disjointed. At times, it almost felt as though each installment belonged to a different version of the same story. Ironically, the straightforward approach of the first book still worked best for me.

The surprise for me in this installment was how much more I enjoyed Hana's chapters. I think her perspective brought a sense of mystery and tension that Lena's storyline often lacked. Lena's chapters frequently circled around the same familiar emotional conflicts, whereas Hana's struggle between duty, expectation, and her own sense of self kept me far more invested.

Like so many Young Adult dystopian novels from this period, the obligatory love triangle once again becomes a major focus. Sometimes it feels as if publishers believed a YA dystopian novel simply wasn't complete without one. For me, that's where the story loses some of its potential. 

The political conflict and the questions surrounding the society are far more interesting than the romantic drama, yet they often take a back seat. It doesn't help that Alex and Julian never really developed into especially memorable characters. Across all three books, they remain surprisingly one-dimensional, which makes the emotional weight of Lena's choices feel less convincing than it probably should.

Lauren Oliver's writing is easy to read, and I think it is accessible to most readers. The ideas are certainly there, but they never felt as fully explored as the premise seemed to promise. I kept waiting for the series to dig a little deeper, and it never quite did.

Now that I've finally finished the trilogy, these books will be moving on to a new home. They're part of my summer shelf-cleaning project, where I'm revisiting older purchases and deciding which ones have earned a permanent place on my shelves. Unfortunately, this series didn't make the cut. I'm glad I stuck with it to the end, if only to satisfy my curiosity, but I can't see myself returning to it. The first book remains the standout, while the trilogy as a whole never quite lived up to the potential of its premise.

Key Themes;

• Love 
• Control
• Survival
• Resilience
• Freedom
• Grief
• Resistance

Pandemonium

 Lauren Oliver

Rating: ⭐⭐½
Genre: Dystopia + Young Adult + Romance

This is the second book in the Delirium series. The story continues with Lena escaping the society that was controlling her, including her emotions, and running in the Wilds, where she is forced to survive in the harshest conditions. Living in such conditions with other fugitives who rejected that same system is a big challenge. Every single day is a test of her endurance, resilience, and identity. 

Unlike the first book, which was linear, Pandemonium is split into two timelines: “Then” that is the period which follows Lena’s life in the Wilds after her escape. “Now” is the time Lena is taking a new identity and working in disguise for the Resistance. In the “Now” period, Lena becomes involved with Julian, the son of a powerful figure tied to the old system, complicating both her mission and her emotions. Meanwhile, the Resistance prepares for larger moves against the government, but nothing is simple or stable.

As usual for young adult books of that era, a love triangle is thrown into the mix. It feels very cliché and predictable, and honestly, it doesn’t add much beyond manufactured tension. The emotional conflict often feels like it is being prioritized over the actual dystopian world-building, which weakens some of the stakes.

While the pacing is noticeably better than book one, the dual timeline structure didn’t really work for me. I was genuinely tempted more than once to just read all the “Then” chapters first and then go through the “Now” sections afterward. The constant switching broke the flow instead of enhancing it.

I can clearly see Lena’s character development and how she becomes more decisive and resilient compared to the first book. However, the supporting characters don’t get the same attention for such development or growth. To me, they often felt like they were fixed most of the time. I was hoping for some meaningful evolution. 

Many parts of the book also felt repetitive, especially in the Wilds sections, where survival struggles and camp life start to blend together after a while. And with Book 1 ending on a cliffhanger and Book 2 doing the same, it becomes frustrating. This isn’t a TV series—each book should feel like a complete story rather than a setup for the next installment.

Overall, Pandemonium is an improvement in pacing and gives Lena a stronger arc, but it is weighed down by clichés, structural choices that don’t fully land, repetitive sections, and an overreliance on cliffhangers. A 2.5-star read: readable, sometimes engaging, but uneven and frustrating in key areas. Now only book three is left to finish this series. 

Key Themes

• Love 
• Control
• Survival
• Resilience
• Freedom
• Grief
• Resistance

Delirium

 Lauren Oliver

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐ 

Genre: Dystopia + Young Adult + Romance

This is my first time reading a novel by Lauren Oliver, despite having owned the entire Delirium trilogy in hardcover first editions for years. For whatever reason, I kept putting it off, but finally decided to start the series now. Going in, I had some expectations based on the popularity of YA dystopian fiction, and while the book didn’t quite live up to all of them, it still offered a reasonably engaging experience overall.

The story is about a dystopian society in which love is considered a disease. People need to undergo a procedure in their adulthood to eliminate it once and for all. The protagonist, Lena, is a girl who believes in this system, and she is very eager to get fixed and cured, but when she meets Alex, her life changes completely.

The two grow closer, and the story starts shifting into a romance that is forbidden by their society. Here is when Lena questions her society and their view on love and the way they claim it is a disease that people need to be cured from. As the story progresses, it turns into a dramatic conclusion that puts Lena on the ground where she has to face a new reality. The ending has a cliffhanger that sets up the continuation of the series.

What really attracted me to the story is its premise. I can easily say it is the strongest aspect of the novel. I think the idea of love being treated as a disease is not just intriguing but also gives lots of potential for storytelling, as it can offer lots of emotional and philosophical exploration. I feel this idea would be a great concept for a movie or TV show adaptation.

Where the book suffers is in its first half—it’s slow and takes a long time to get to the point where the plot starts moving. Lots of that part focuses on the protagonist’s inner thoughts about herself, her family, her friend Hanna, and society. Yes, it is important for character development, but the repetitions felt tedious for me. 

I also felt that the book was somewhat overwritten for what it ultimately delivers. Unfortunately, a lot of those pages were about Lena’s perspective and emotional state rather than worldbuilding. This is expected in most dystopian books of that era. For a story built on such a strong dystopian concept, I expected a deeper exploration of how this society actually functions beyond its core idea.

That said, the writing itself is very accessible. Despite the book’s length, it reads quickly and smoothly. The prose is easy to follow, making it a fast read once you settle into the rhythm, especially in the latter half, where the pacing improves significantly.

The novel ends on a cliffhanger, and I find myself a bit conflicted about it. I can’t say it strongly motivates me to continue immediately, but at the same time, it doesn’t put me off either. Since I already own the second and third books in the series, I will continue with them. Overall, this was an okay read—interesting in concept, uneven in execution, but still worth experiencing.

Key Themes

• Love
• Control
• Fear
• Dystopia
• Emotional Awakening
• Rebilion
• Resistance
• Self-Discovery

The Astonishing Color of After

 Emily X.R. Pan

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Magical Realism + Young Adult

Initial Impression

This was one of my Book of the Month book releases. For no particular reason, this novel sat on my shelf for a long time. I was eager to see if the story lived up to the hype and the praise the book and the author received. 

Summary

The Astonishing Color of After opens so strongly that, for a moment, I genuinely thought I’d found a new all-time favorite. Leigh’s grief, her mother’s death, and the surreal appearance of a red bird that she believes is her mother, all of it hits with an intensity that feels almost electric. The opening chapters mix emotion and magical realism in a way that feels fresh, like the book is promising something huge. I was fully ready for a 5-star ride.

As Leigh travels to Taiwan to learn more about her mother’s past, the story appears to be heading toward an emotional and cultural breakthrough. And at first, parts of it work; there’s something fascinating about watching her try to connect the dots between her mother’s memories and the life she never got to see. But soon the narrative gets stuck in a kind of loop. Scenes start to feel like variations of the same moment—Leigh wandering, remembering, questioning, wandering again. It’s not that nothing happens; it’s that what does happen often feels like a repeat of what happened fifty pages earlier.

The relationships in Leigh’s life—her father, her best friend, and the boy who might be something more—add some texture, but even these threads start circling around the same emotional points. I kept waiting for a shift, a real push forward, but the story hesitates so often that the momentum just slips away. What was riveting at first slowly becomes predictable, like being stuck in a dream that keeps resetting before it reaches the part you actually want to see.

Still, there are moments that stand out. Some memories from Leigh’s mother’s life are sharp and genuinely touching, and the cultural atmosphere of Taiwan sometimes brings the story back to life for a few pages. Those little bursts remind you of how powerful the book could have been if the pacing didn’t keep sagging. It never regains the spark of the beginning, but the emotional core peeks through every now and then.

Characters

Leigh herself is probably the strongest part of the book. She’s messy, confused, and trying desperately to make sense of a tragedy, and her emotional swings feel believable. Even when the plot stalls, her internal struggle still has moments that feel painfully real—especially the guilt she carries about her mother’s death and the way she keeps revisiting old memories from different angles.

The rest of the cast is less defined. Some characters appear with hints of complexity but then fade out before they become fully formed. Leigh’s father, for example, seems like he could have a meaningful arc, but he spends a lot of time drifting at the edges. Friends and extended family members show glimpses of personality, but the book rarely gives them enough space to feel like actual people. It’s as if they’re meant to support Leigh’s journey without really having journeys of their own.

Writing Style

The novel is written in a lyrical first-person style that leans heavily on imagery. You have colors, sensations, and fleeting thoughts. At its best, it’s gorgeous and atmospheric. But the same poetic tone that makes the beginning feel magical also slows things down later on. The writing wanders, sometimes beautifully, sometimes aimlessly, and that may contribute to the feeling that the plot keeps circling instead of progressing.

Setting and Atmosphere

Taiwan is probably one of the book’s biggest strengths. Emily X.R. Pan writes about the country with obvious affection, from temples buzzing with incense to small alley shops to humid streets lit by neon signs. The sense of place feels real and specific enough that you can almost picture Leigh getting lost in those neighborhoods at night. Still, a few scenes linger longer than they need to, and the setting starts to feel more decorative than essential in certain stretches.

The atmosphere begins with this heavy, almost dreamlike quality that mixes grief with magic. For a while, it’s spellbinding. Then the repetition kicks in, and the mood shifts from haunting to slightly numbing. You can feel what the author wanted the atmosphere to do—hold you in that vulnerable space between reality and memory, but the longer the story repeats its beats, the more the initial spell thins out.

Final Thoughts

I honestly wish I could give this book a higher rating, because those opening chapters are some of the best I’ve read in a long time. They’re emotional without being manipulative, and they set up a story that feels like it’s going to hit hard. But somewhere along the way, the book starts spinning in circles. Every time I thought it was about to land another emotional punch, it backed away into another round of wandering or reflection.

By the end, I wasn’t angry or disappointed so much as tired. The beauty is still there, maybe scattered or even fragile, but the pacing doesn’t support it, and the story’s emotional payoff never quite arrives. It’s a 3-star read for me: a book with a phenomenal beginning, a heartfelt core, and a middle and end that just couldn’t keep the spark alive.

Key Themes

• Grief and Loss
• Memory and the Unreliable Nature of It
• Family Secrets and Generational Trauma
• Identity and Self-Discovery
• Culture and Heritage
• Mental Health
• Magical Realism|
• Communication

Cruel Beauty

 Rosamund Hodge

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Fantasy + Retelling + Young Adult

Initial Impression
This is yet another book that showed up on the wheel of TBR. It has been sitting for a long time on my bookshelf. No idea why I have not picked it up despite loving the Beauty and the Beast story.

Summary
Cruel Beauty tries to reinvent Beauty and the Beast with a darker edge, mixing magic with political games in a world that feels a lot more dangerous than charming. The story centers on Nyx, a young woman who has been promised to Ignifex, the feared ruler of her realm.

Look, this isn't a love match—it’s pure strategy. Her family sees the marriage as a necessary evil, a sacrifice, and Nyx, having grown up carrying this weight of duty, is expected to kill her future husband. That whole plan, though, seems to get complicated pretty fast once real feelings start to get involved and muddy the water.

Nyx’s situation is just steeped in contradiction. She's been groomed as an assassin, yet at the same time, she’s just a girl trying to figure out where the line is between love, loyalty, and what everyone expects of her. The beginning leans heavily into explaining the politics of the realm. For some readers, that'll be totally immersive, but honestly, I found it a bit slow. It's not that the world-building is shallow—it just appears to occasionally drown out the emotional drama.

As her connection with Ignifex starts to deepen, the narrative naturally pivots inward. Nyx’s internal struggle becomes the absolute emotional core of the novel. There are other people who influence her journey, sure, but a few of them feel more like plot devices than actual, fully-realized people. I definitely found myself wishing for them to have a little more substance, especially considering how crucial they are to some of the major turns in the story.

The pace finally picks up near the end, shifting into high gear with some magical surprises and big confrontations. However, the ending itself may suggest the story ran out of space or steam right when things got interesting. I kept waiting for that special spark—the one that makes a classic retelling feel truly timeless—and while there were moments where it flickered, it never quite caught for me.

Characters
Nyx is complex, no doubt about it. She’s smart, she’s got courage, and she’s deeply conflicted. Hodge nails that complexity, though there were times when Nyx’s sheer indecision felt like she was stuck in a loop. It’s certainly realistic. Who wouldn’t be torn in her messed-up situation? But that repetition is likely to wear down the emotional impact a little bit.

Ignifex is a tougher nut to crack. He’s mysterious, he’s charismatic, and he's obviously more than just a typical fairytale villain. Still, some parts of his character remain frustratingly vague. I kept hoping for a better look inside his head, something that would make him feel less like a puzzle to be solved and more like an actual person I could understand.

The rest of the cast do what they’re supposed to, but they don't always manage to transcend that basic purpose. They add texture to the world, absolutely, but I wouldn't say they leave any sort of lasting impression. They come across as characters whose main job is to push the plot forward rather than genuinely challenge or enrich Nyx’s personal journey.

Writing Style
Hodge's writing is undeniably beautiful. There’s a wonderful lyrical quality to the prose that truly fits the whole dark fairy tale vibe. Because we get Nyx's thoughts straight from her first-person narration, there's a strong sense of intimacy, but that also means we spend a lot of time inside her head. Sometimes, maybe too much. There were moments that felt like they were just circling the same emotional point, which is what really dragged the pacing down for me.

Setting and Atmosphere
The world of Cruel Beauty is richly detailed—you’ve got your gothic palaces, shadowy forests, and weird magical rooms that all create a setting that’s both gorgeous and unsettling. It’s clear Hodge put a ton of effort into the details, and it pays off visually.

The tone leans heavily toward the dark side. There's a constant, low-level sense of unease, which makes sense given the themes of betrayal and moral compromise. Having said that, the tension doesn't always sustain itself. When the pacing starts to slip, the atmosphere loses some of its edge, and suddenly, the stakes don’t feel quite as urgent.

Final Thoughts
Cruel Beauty has a lot going for it: a great premise, a morally grey heroine, and a haunting world. Hodge’s prose is elegant, and the magical elements keep things interesting. However, the story doesn't quite manage to stick the landing. The occasional character flatness and those pacing issues prevent it from hitting the same emotional high notes as the classic tale it’s based on.

If you enjoy darker fantasy and you don’t mind a book that takes its time, this could absolutely be a winner for you. But if you’re looking for that huge, sweeping romance and emotional gut-punch of Beauty and the Beast, you might walk away feeling like it was missing something. For me, it was a perfectly decent read—it got me thinking in a few spots, but it wasn't the kind of book I'll remember forever.

Key Themes

• Love and Sacrifice
• Duty versus Desire
• Moral Ambiguity
• Power and Corruption
• Fate and Choice
• Isolation and Loneliness
• Redemption
• Family Obligation
• Inner Darkness
• Self-Acceptance

Three Dark Crowns

Kendare Blake

Rating: ⭐⭐ ½
Genre: Fantasy + Young Adult

Initial Impression
This was a random pick to read from my wheel of TBR. The book has been on my TBR for a long time, and I really like the synopsis and had high hopes for it.

Summary
On the island of Fennbirn, tradition dictates that every generation begins with a set of triplet queens, all girls, all gifted with different kinds of magic. One can brew and endure poison without flinching. Another can bend plants and animals to her will. The third commands the elements—fire, storms, the raw stuff of nature itself. It sounds like the setup for a fairy tale, but the custom is brutal: on their sixteenth birthday, the sisters enter a year-long trial called the Ascension, and by the end of it only one will live to wear the crown.

Mirabella, the elemental, is generally regarded as the favorite. She is strong, beautiful, and frighteningly gifted. Arsinoe, the nature reader, struggles just to show a flicker of power. Katharine, the poisoner, is dismissed as frail, a poor heir to her bloody tradition. Raised apart in rival factions, the sisters are taught to see one another less as siblings and more as enemies waiting to strike. When the Ascension year begins, they’re paraded back into the capital, each with their own entourage of mentors, lovers, and schemers—and a lifetime of indoctrination ready to be tested.

The first book spends most of its energy setting up this conflict rather than diving straight into it. We follow the queens separately as they fail, maneuver, or betray, while side characters plot from the shadows. There are hints of rich history and plenty of political detail, but not much actual fighting. In fact, it feels more like a year-long prelude to the real bloodshed promised for later volumes.

Readers may come away with the impression that Kendare Blake is carefully placing chess pieces on the board, one by one. You get a sense of the factions and their customs, but the slow pace and constant anticipation can feel like trudging through the opening moves of a very long game. The book closes on a twist that matters, yes, but it’s more of a promise of what’s to come than a payoff in its own right.

Characters
The queens are easy to tell apart, which is a strength, but they don’t really change as the story unfolds. Mirabella is the compassionate powerhouse, Arsinoe the scrappy underdog, and Katharine the delicate poisoner who may or may not be as fragile as she appears. Their guardians and romantic entanglements add color, though most of them function more like props to highlight the queens’ traits than characters in their own right.

If you’re looking for deep psychological arcs, this book may disappoint. The secrets and politics take center stage, while the sisters themselves stay oddly fixed in place. It’s hard to become fully invested in their fates when their internal struggles don’t evolve much past where they start.

Writing Style
Blake’s prose is clean and accessible. It does what it needs to do without any frills. The third-person narration shifts between the queens’ perspectives, which helps balance the story but sometimes keeps it at arm’s length emotionally. You know what each girl is thinking, but you rarely feel as though you’re sitting right inside her skin.

Setting and Atmosphere
Fennbirn itself is arguably the real star of the novel. Each faction’s territory feels distinct—the poisoners’ mist-drenched coast, the green wilds of the naturalists, the raw landscapes where elemental storms rage. The traditions and rituals are brutal but vivid, and the island’s culture has a layered, lived-in quality.

What the book wants to feel like is a tense countdown to a sisterly bloodbath. What it actually feels like is a waiting game, the tension stretched so thin that it sometimes slips into monotony. For all the talk of darkness and danger, the suspense never quite lands with the weight the premise suggests.

Final Thoughts
The pitch is irresistible: three sisters, each with deadly magic, forced to kill one another for a crown. The execution, though, is sluggish. Instead of sharp claws and deadly showdowns, readers get political maneuvering, stalled magic, and characters who don’t grow enough to make you care deeply about them.

By the end, I felt like I’d read a very long prologue to a much better story still waiting in the wings. The world is fascinating, the idea brilliant, but the book itself—at least this first one—didn’t give me enough to keep going. I closed it feeling more exhausted than intrigued.

For me, that lands at about 2.5 stars. I wanted to be hooked; instead, I was left staring at the next volume on my shelf with no real desire to crack it open.

Key Themes

• Power and ambition
• Sisterhood and rivalry
• Tradition vs. individuality
• Survival and sacrifice
• Destiny and choice
• Betrayal and loyalty
• Corruption of innocence
• Political manipulation
• Fear and control
• Identity and self-worth

The Boy Most Likely To

 Huntley Fitzpatrick

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐

Genre: Contemporary Fiction + Young Adult

Initial Impression This book, The Boy Most Likely To, is the second in the Garretts series. I have to admit, I read the first one a few years ago and wasn’t exactly thrilled when this sequel popped up on my "Wheel of TBR," but I figured I’d give it a shot with a fresh perspective. I mean, the first one was just an okay read for me, so my expectations were pretty low to start.

Summary The story picks up with Tim Mason, who is, for lack of a better term, a screw-up. He's made a lot of mistakes, flunked out of school, and has pretty much disappointed everyone in his family. When he moves into the Garretts’ garage apartment, it's his last shot to get his act together. The Garretts themselves are a huge, wonderfully chaotic family, and their presence seems to both overwhelm Tim and, at the same time, give him a much-needed sense of stability.

Then there's Alice Garrett, the oldest daughter, who has her own stuff going on. Her dad is recovering from an accident, so she's stepped up to basically run the whole household. It’s a lot to handle, and she’s still trying to figure out her own life. She’s tough, practical, and maybe a little prickly, which makes for a fascinating contrast with Tim’s charming but self-destructive ways.

Their relationship starts off pretty reluctantly, almost like they’re enemies at first, but it gradually becomes something more complicated and surprisingly sweet. Alice doesn't want anything to get in the way of her responsibilities, and Tim, well, he's just not sure he deserves someone as solid and capable as she is. Yet, they find a way to connect, and their chemistry really helps both of them grow.

The plot takes a pretty dramatic turn when Tim finds out one of his past flings might have left him with a baby he never knew about. Being a father is a big challenge that comes out of nowhere, especially when he is trying to show himself and everyone else that he is more than just the guy who is most likely to fail. 

Characters The characters have some depth, but I have to admit that they weren't always interesting. Tim feels a bit like the classic “bad boy trying to do better” archetype, and while his journey is compelling in spots, it leans on some clichés. Thanks to his vulnerability and desire to change, he became pretty likable. Alice, on the other hand, comes across as very strong and grounded, but she also seems so weighed down by her circumstances. Her no-nonsense attitude is pretty realistic, though sometimes she feels more like a caretaker than a character with her own full arc.

The Garrett family adds a lot of warmth and energy to the story. The reader may find their noisy, busy home a little too much at times, but it feels so real and heartfelt. The supporting characters can occasionally blend together, but they do a good job of creating a genuine family vibe that helps ground Tim and Alice’s individual journeys.

Writing Style Tim and Alice are both written in the first person, and Huntley Fitzpatrick alternates between their points of view. The reason this dual narration works so well is that it allows you to enter both of their minds and truly comprehend their desires and fears. The writing is easy to read and sounds like a conversation. It has a classic YA romance feel, with drama, humor, and sad moments all mixed in. But there are times when the pacing seems a little slow because there is too much internal monologue.

Setting and Atmosphere The book is set in a small New England town, with most of the action taking place right there at the Garretts’ busy house. Tim’s garage apartment is a good symbol for his attempt to start over, and the Garretts’ household represents this great mix of chaos, responsibility, and love. The setting feels intimate, maybe even a little claustrophobic sometimes, but it’s a perfect backdrop for a story that's all about family. 

The book's atmosphere alternates between being cozy and being stressful. In addition to the emotional weight of Alice's overwhelming burdens and Tim's unexpected fatherhood, you get the cozy, messy comfort of a large family with all of their dinners and arguments. The tone perfectly conveys the pressures and rewards of being a teenager on the verge of adulthood.

Final Thoughts The Boy Most Likely To definitely has its good moments—the realistic family dynamics, some genuinely emotional scenes, and a sweet, complex romance. But I think there are several problems, like the pacing and drama, which can sometimes feel a little too much. Many times I felt that some of the plot twists were a little forced, and Tim's character arc is interesting, but it seems to go on for a long time. 

Alice's story is good, but it often gets lost in the shuffle of Tim's problems. All in all, it’s a decent YA read that manages to balance humor, romance, and some real-life challenges, though it doesn’t quite hit its full potential. I gave it 3 stars because it was an enjoyable read in some parts, but it's not one I'll probably remember a few years from now. I suppose readers who are really into family-focused YA romances with flawed but redeemable characters might find this worthwhile, but others might feel like it's a bit uneven.

Key Themes

• Family
• Responsibility
• Redemption
• Forgiveness
• Love
• Coming of age
• Mistakes and consequences
• Self-discovery
• Trust
• Second chances

Far from the Tree

 Robin Benway

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Contemporary Fiction + Young Adult

Initial Impressions
I’d heard a lot of praise for Far From the Tree over the years; people seemed genuinely moved by it. I actually bought my copy back in 2018, but didn’t get around to reading it until 2025. That gap made me a little wary. Young adult fiction and I don’t always get along, especially when the emotional beats feel too engineered. Still, I figured I’d give it a shot and see how it holds up.

Summary
The story centers on three biological siblings—Grace, Maya, and Joaquin—who were separated at birth and raised in very different circumstances. Grace, the middle child, has a stable adoptive family, but after giving up her own baby for adoption, she’s left reeling. That decision seems to crack something open in her, prompting a search for the siblings she’s never met.

Maya, the youngest, lives in a well-off, mostly white household. She’s biracial, outspoken, and often feels like she’s straddling two worlds. Her family’s issues, like alcoholism, denial, and a general unwillingness to talk about hard things, don’t help. Meeting Grace and Joaquin offers her a kind of emotional mirror, though not always a comforting one.

Joaquin, the eldest, has had the roughest go of it. He’s spent most of his life in foster care, moving from one home to another. His walls are high, and understandably so. But as he gets to know Grace and Maya, he starts to question what family could mean, not in the traditional sense, but in a way that feels real to him.

The novel doesn’t rush their connection. It’s messy, tentative, and layered with all the baggage you’d expect from three teenagers trying to stitch together a shared history they never lived. The story has many themes that it explores, like identity, belonging, and the complicated nature of family, but what stands out most to me is how the siblings slowly learn to trust each other, not because they’re supposed to, but because they choose to.

The Characters
Robin Benway writes with a kind of quiet empathy that gives each sibling space to breathe. Grace is introspective and guilt-ridden, Maya is sharp and defensive, Joaquin is guarded but deeply sensitive. None of them feel like archetypes, which is refreshing. Their personalities aren’t just shaped by their circumstances—they’re shaped by how they respond to those circumstances, which makes them feel more human.

Benway doesn’t shy away from uncomfortable emotions. There’s grief, resentment, fear of rejection, but also humor, awkwardness, and moments of genuine warmth. The dialogue feels lived-in, and the internal monologues are often where the most honest moments happen. I won’t get into the side characters too much—some of them play pivotal roles, but mentioning them would risk spoiling a few key turns.

Writing Style
Benway’s prose is straightforward but emotionally resonant. She switches between the siblings’ perspectives without losing momentum, and each voice feels distinct enough that you rarely get confused about who’s speaking. The pacing is deliberate. Some scenes linger longer than expected, but that slowness often works in the book’s favor. It gives the emotional beats room to land.

There’s a kind of everyday realism to the writing. It’s not trying to be literary or edgy; it’s trying to be honest. And while some of the humor leans a bit YA-snarky, it’s balanced by quieter moments that feel earned rather than inserted for effect.

Setting and Atmosphere
The story hops around different American suburbs and cities, but honestly, the places I felt were more like a mirror of each sibling’s headspace than anything else. Grace’s home feels cozy and reliable, Maya’s is shiny and put-together but kind of fragile underneath, and Joaquin’s life is all about uncertainty and moving around. I was able to clearly feel how their different worlds reflected the emotional gaps they were trying to close. I think every reader will be able to identify that.

The overall mood of the story is quiet, an almost constant sense of longing running through it—not just for family, but for the characters in understanding themselves and where they belong. Despite the heavy subject, it’s not all heavy, though; little moments of connection, jokes, and everyday life make it feel real and quite relatable. The mood sneaks up on you—it’s tender and charged in a way that feels natural rather than forced.

Final Thoughts
Far From the Tree is one of those books that may not blow you away with plot twists or lyrical prose, but it sticks with you because of how honestly it treats its characters. It’s not trying to solve the complexities of adoption or identity. It’s just trying to show what it feels like to live through them.

That said, a few plot turns felt a little too neat, and some secondary arcs could’ve used more depth. But those are minor nitpicks in a story that’s clearly more interested in emotional truth than narrative perfection.

Four stars feels right to me. It’s thoughtful, emotionally grounded, and quietly powerful in the way it explores what family can mean—especially when it’s something you have to build from scratch.

Key Themes

• Family and sibling relationships
• Identity and self-acceptance
• Difference and diversity
• Love and belonging
• Forgiveness and reconciliation
• Secrets and disclosure
• Resilience and personal growth

A Thousand Pieces of You

 Claudia Gray

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Science Fiction + Young Adult

Initial Impression
I’ve actually owned all three books in this series since 2017. I picked them up after seeing a YouTuber rave about them—and honestly, the covers themselves are gorgeous, so when I spotted a good deal on Thrift Books, I couldn’t resist. It felt like one of those “why not?” purchases that linger in your mind for years.

Summary
Marguerite Caine is the daughter of two ambitious scientists who have created the Firebird, a device that, in theory, allows people to jump between parallel dimensions while keeping their sense of self intact. Her world turns upside down when her father is murdered, and all signs point to Paul Markov, his charismatic and trusted graduate assistant. Paul flees using the Firebird, leaving Marguerite to take up a prototype of her own and chase him across realities, teaming with another of her parents’ students, Theo Beck.

Her journey takes her to wildly different worlds: a futuristic London brimming with high-tech gadgets, a post-apocalyptic city dominated by water, and even an imperial Russia where she exists as the daughter of royalty. In each, Marguerite must inhabit the life of her alternate self, adjusting to unfamiliar customs and tangled relationships. Along the way, she discovers that Paul isn’t simply a villain; in some realities, he clearly cares for her, complicating her sense of right and wrong. Gradually, her initial black-and-white assumptions about guilt and loyalty start to blur.

As Marguerite continues her chase, she uncovers a larger conspiracy: her father’s research is entangled with a powerful corporation, Triad, manipulating events across dimensions. We keep getting hints that her father may not actually be dead but trapped elsewhere, and Paul’s apparent betrayal begins to look less like malice and more like desperation to protect her family. Feels like a familiar plot of misunderstanding to me. 

On the other hand, Theo’s actions raise questions. I’m not sure how I feel about them, but they are adding layers of uncertainty and tension. Of course, all this is intentional to make things confusing for the main character and the readers. By the end, Marguerite finds herself alone and facing the messy reality that love, loyalty, and identity are rarely simple, and that each decision she makes echoes across countless worlds.

Characters
Claudia Gray seems to enjoy playing with the idea that identity isn’t fixed. Each version of the characters in a new world shows slightly different traits, which keeps things interesting even though things get repetitive at times. Still, Marguerite, Paul, and Theo all have their main identities, ensuring they have enough consistent core traits to stay recognizable across the dimensions. 

Marguerite Caine: A girl who is trying to uncover the truth behind her father’s death.

Paul Markov: The main suspect in connection with Marguerite’s father’s death.

Theo Beck: Charming and impulsive boy. Has secrets that hint at deeper motives.

Henry Caine: Marguerite’s father, whose apparent death triggers the events of the story.

Writing Style
Gray’s writing style is easy to digest. The pace keeps the reader moving from one dimension to the next without much complexity. First-person narration helps in understanding Marguerite’s internal struggles, though it sometimes leans a little heavily on exposition. The imagery of each world is fairly vivid—enough to picture futuristic London or a waterlogged post-apocalyptic city, but it doesn’t linger long enough to feel truly immersive. Dialogue generally works, although at times it can feel slightly convenient, especially when it nudges the plot forward. Romance is woven in without slowing the story, though it leans on familiar YA tropes.

Setting and Atmosphere
The novel’s main appeal is its shifting, multidimensional setting. Each world feels distinct, from high-tech cities to more historical or dystopian landscapes. The author gives each dimension its own tone and quirks. However, some of the settings feel more like sketches than fully fleshed-out worlds. I can’t help but feel that the worlds lacked the depth they needed. The atmosphere is a mix of suspense and mild thrill. There is just enough danger to keep the story moving, but how one feels about it is completely dependent on the reader’s taste. There’s also a subtle undercurrent of romantic tension, which is likely to appeal to YA readers, though it may feel predictable to others.

Overall Impression
It’s kind of funny that I was playing Tales of Xillia 2—a video game also about jumping between parallel dimensions—at the same time I was reading this. The coincidence made the book’s premise feel a little more familiar, maybe even a bit repetitive in my mind. The story is easy to follow and moves quickly, but it doesn’t dig very deep into its characters or themes. And yes, it has the love-triangle cliché that seems unavoidable in YA from this era.

All things considered, it was a perfectly okay first book. I’m not exactly eager to continue the series, though I can’t say I’ll never pick up the next installment. It’s enjoyable enough to finish, but it’s not particularly memorable or compelling—somewhere in the middle of the road. Time will tell if curiosity pulls me back for book two.

Key Themes

• Parallel dimensions
• Identity
• Love across worlds
• Family bonds
• Betrayal and trust
• Grief and loss
• Conspiracy and power
• Fate versus choice

Passion of Dolssa

Julie Berry

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Historical Fiction + Young Adult

Initial Impression
This book has been sitting on my shelf since 2017. I picked it up after watching a YouTuber rave about the story, characters, plot, and the author’s writing style. It immediately appealed to me, so I got a copy, but for some reason, it took me years to finally read it.

Summary
Set in 13th-century France, the novel follows Dolssa, a young noblewoman who is condemned by the Catholic Church for heresy after claiming a divine relationship with Jesus Christ. Branded dangerous and sentenced to execution, she narrowly escapes and flees into the countryside—wounded, weak, and alone.

She’s found by Botille Flasucra, a village matchmaker who, along with her two sisters, takes Dolssa in and nurses her back to health. As Dolssa recovers, she begins performing miraculous healings through prayer, drawing attention far beyond their small coastal town.

Word of her abilities eventually reaches the inquisitors, who descend upon the village in search of her. They interrogate and torture villagers to force out her location. Will she be found? That’s for you to discover.

Characters
The story is told through multiple points of view, but even though it revolves around Dolssa, she narrates far less than Botille. I think that was a deliberate choice by the author—to have us see Dolssa through other characters’ eyes. Honestly, it makes sense. If Dolssa were constantly claiming she’s gifted and performs miracles, she could easily come across as a delusional narcissist instead of someone truly spiritual.

The characters are well-written, no doubt about that. But I didn’t connect with them as much as I hoped. Maybe it’s because they didn’t feel especially engaging to me, or perhaps the historical setting created a bit of distance. Whatever the reason, I just wasn’t fully invested in them.

Writing Style
This is supposed to be a YA novel, but honestly, it didn’t feel like one while I was reading. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Either way, the book didn’t click with me the way I wanted it to.

That said, it’s clear the author did a ton of research, and it shows in the details and in the writing itself. I appreciate the effort, even if the result wasn’t entirely my thing.

Setting and Atmosphere
The setting—13th-century France—is richly drawn. You can absolutely feel the atmosphere of the period in every chapter. The author does a great job of blending historical fact with fiction, making the world feel both grounded and mystical. There’s a spiritual and almost ethereal tone to parts of the story, thanks to Dolssa’s character, but it never goes over the top.

Overall Impression
I expected to enjoy this book more than I did, and I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t. With a story like this, it’s important to feel close to the characters—especially when the world-building is already so strong. I understand that the writing style was meant to reflect the time period, but sometimes that came at the cost of engagement. I’m not going to sugarcoat it: big parts of this book were boring, and boredom is the graveyard of a reading experience.

Key Themes

• Resistance and courage
• Persecution and intolerance
• Mystical and religious devotion
• Female solidarity and sisterhood

Half Bad

 Sally Green

Rating: ⭐⭐ Genre: Fantasy + Young Adult

This is the first book of the series in this dark young adult fantasy. The world in this fantasy is mainly about witches and how they are either good witches or bad witches. Nathan is a young half-blood witch who thinks he is cursed because he was born to a powerful witch father who is considered bad. His mother is a human, though. 

Nathan’s dilemma is that he is not accepted by anybody, as he does not fully belong to any group of witches. Each group will consider him from the other. What makes things worse for this young boy is that the reputation of his father as the evil witch is just too strong to be ignored. 

When Nathan is captured by the Council and held as a prisoner, his life takes a significant and uncontrollable turn. He tries to escape from his jail, and during his mission, he uncovers many secrets about the witch world. The novel focuses heavily on the main character's growth and his efforts to defend himself. His journey is marked by numerous losses, betrayals, and painful situations.

Although all that I have written might sound interesting, it did for me when reading about this book. I remember watching a YouTuber who has praised this series a lot. To be honest, it is interesting, especially if you like reading about witches and magic. However, the book suffers from many shortcomings. The pacing is too slow for my taste and for such a subgenre. I feel the author might’ve stretched one story over three books. I wouldn’t know that for sure, because I have no intention of continuing the series. I have all three books, but since I didn’t enjoy this one, there is no point in continuing. 

The main character is difficult to connect with. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t warm up to him or feel compassion for him in the various situations he faced. I think this book might appeal more to younger audiences. It seems like it has sat too long on my shelf to be appreciated now. This is one of those cases where it’s me and not the book.

Note: I had no idea that this was turned into a TV show! I just found out while looking for the cover picture for my blog! It seems the show was cancelled after only one season, despite the positive reviews.