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I don't know why I keep reading Baxendell's books since I haven't been impressed, yet. But I read the first few pages of This Rotting Heart and it was quirky and I liked Hellebore, despite her name, from the outset. As I read I kept waiting for the book to disappoint me; to go sideways in some way; to do something ridiculous or for the writing to plummet. It never did. This is a good book with decent characters (except for 80% of the way in when Hellebore stops thinking for herself, briefly. Thankfully, it was short lived.). 

The plot, like most romance books, is scaffolding for the romance. There isn't much that changes scene to scene except the different ways for the characters to interact. But I liked that there's physical connection between the characters without sex. It's refreshing that every touch doesn't lead to a kiss.

The turn of the story wasn't much of a surprise. I suspected Palladia of causing the rot pretty much the moment we learned about it. I didn't know the details of exactly when but those didn't matter much. Which I think is the main downfall of the story. The “focus” is on her being an alchemist and investigating the rot but there's only some alchemy and very little details in the investigation. I get that if answers came too quickly it would remove any need for more story. But investigations typically have questions, and those get answered along the way and lead to more questions. This was one big question Hellebore spent months looking into with no details and then the big answers at the end I saw coming from the beginning. The interplay between the characters kept me reading along with I supposed liking Hellebore. She's so different than most female main characters with her clear rationality and practicality.

Originally posted on my blog Nonstop Reader.

The Everyday Naturalist is an engaging monograph for foragers and nature lovers who want to gain confidence with their IDs and interactions - by observation and documentation, not as a field guide, written and curated by Rebecca Lexa. Released 17th June by Penguin Random House on their Ten Speed Press imprint, it's 272 pages and is available in paperback and ebook formats. 

The author does a good job of showing readers how to observe and record information in order to narrow down the possibilities for plant and animal species they see in nature. Although proper binomial nomenclature (Latin names) are used throughout, it's not a field guide for ID in any sense of the word. In fact, there are very few photographs at all included in the text, but it is liberally illustrated in with detailed color pen/pencil/ink drawings by Ricardo Macía Lalinde. They are beautifully rendered and add a lot of depth and detail to the text. Illustrations are accompanied by simple captions. 

The author has included guidelines and field note templates to fill in with observations for fungi, animals, and plants. They're fairly detailed and self-explanatory. There are also useful appendices including glossary, detailed resource/bibliography lists, and a cross-referenced index. 

Four stars. It would be a good choice for public or secondary school library acquisition, for home use, or possibly for foraging and gardening groups. 

Disclosure: I received an ARC at no cost from the author/publisher for review purposes. 

Originally posted on my blog Nonstop Reader.

The Crescent Moon Tearoom is a cozy fantasy series starter by Stacy Sivinski. Released 1st Oct 2024 by Simon & Schuster on their Atria imprint, it's 336 pages and available in paperback, large-print library edition, audio, and ebook formats. It's worth noting that the ebook format has a handy interactive table of contents as well as interactive links and references throughout. For Kindle Unlimited subscribers, this book is currently included in the KU subscription library to borrow and read for free. There's a second book in the series due out in mid-4th quarter 2025 from the same publisher. 

This is a low-stress cozy romantasy with a trio of magical sisters (triplets) who run a popular tea shop. The setting, a house in an alternate magical Chicago, is *literally* a character, full of opinions (it redecorates itself regularly) and rearranges its features to suit its own whims.

Lots of tea-leaf reading, romance, gossip, and some adventure as the sisters try to figure out what paths to follow in their own lives. The pacing is... whimsical... and exceptionally meandering. There's no violence and the language is squeaky clean. It's written in a nostalgic style which recalls the early 20th century, and some of the dialogue reflects this (undoubtedly intentional on the author's part). 

Three and a half stars. Definitely one for the fans of cozy fantasy. It would make a good buddy read. 

Disclosure: I received an ARC at no cost from the author/publisher for review purposes.

‘’The remnants of a pagan past combined with Catholic faith and political conflict have rendered Ireland a bewitching land for those who wish to be initiated to its mysteries, marvels, wonders and horrors.’’

There’s something quietly magnetic about the way Irish storytelling leans into the mist—how it welcomes the uncanny, the haunted, the half-seen. Uncanny Ireland, edited by Maria Giakaniki, is a rich and atmospheric collection that does just that, drawing together strange tales from across time and place. The book is divided into six evocative sections—Folktales and Folk Beliefs, Myths and Legends Reimagined, Some Rural Ghosts and Uncanny Sounds, Gothic Chills, Strange and Dangerous Women, and Modern Horrors—each offering a different lens into Ireland’s darker imaginings. I was especially proud, as a Greek reader, to see this volume edited by a fellow Greek woman. There’s a quiet affinity, I think, between Irish and Greek storytelling—both steeped in myth, shaped by sorrow, and fiercely rooted in land and lore, even if our shores are miles apart.

‘’Open and let me in,’’ she called to the warder. ‘’I claim the protection of this holy place.’’

The Evil Eye (Lady Jane Wilde): Snippets written in the language of the Irish people, narrating true stories of omens, customs, and beliefs.

The Unquiet Dead (Lady Augusta Gregory): True cases of spectral encounters and the connection between our world and the next.

The Curse of the Fires and of the Shadows (William Butler Yeats): A tale of the sidhe, of loss and death set during the Irish Confederate Wars.

A Legend of Barlagh Cave (Fitz James O’Brien): Celtic mythology is strongly imbued in the Irish tales. This is a story of love and despair.

The Monks of Saint Bride (Herminie Templeton Kavanagh): One of the most atmospheric tales in the collection, this is the legend of a curse in the name of love, and uncanny sounds echoing in an old abbey.

The Drowned Fisherman (Anna Maria Hall): The tragic fate of a fisherman who drowns, but the mystery and sorrow surrounding his death unravel deeper secrets within the tight-knit community. Hall weaves themes of loss, superstition, and human frailty with a poignant sensitivity to the harsh realities of rural life.

A Scrap of Irish Folklore (Rosa Mulholland): Fairy men are better than real men, no doubt about it.

The Strange Voice (Dora Sigerson Shorter): A love that withstands death as a young woman is determined to follow her shadowy lover.

The Wee Gray Woman (Ethna Carbery): One of the most haunting, moving, tragic stories. A tale of a doomed love, condemned by a young man's reluctance to acknowledge his love for a mysterious girl.

Tale of the Piper (Donn Byrne’): A piper's tune that may echo the Devil’s music.

The Last of Squire Ennismore (Charlotte Riddell): A fascinating tale of a seaside spectre and unlucky vessels.

The Fortunes of Sir Robert Ardagh (Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu) : I can never connect to the stories of this writer. I just can't get the fascination with his stories which, for me, are the epitome of the sleeping pill.

“It is now the fall of the night. The last of the neighbours are hitting the road for home.”

The Watcher O’ The Dead (John Guinan):

A sad tale that makes use of the conviction that the last person to be buried must guard the graveyard and its souls.

The Sea's Dead (Katharine Tynan): My favourite story in the collection. The tale of a woman who may be a selkie and her undying love for her man.

Julia Cahill's Curse (George Moore): I am not sure what this story wanted to accomplish. Promiscuity is hardly the road to progress…Indifferent, idiotic.

The Return of Niav (Dorothy Macardle): An interesting take on the myth of the Changeling that briefly echoes the Children of Lir and a few of the most famous Irish myths.

The Back Drawing-Room (Elizabeth Bowen): A Christmas story in which one of the guests narrates an unsettling encounter in an abandoned estate.

The Raising of Elvira Tremlett (William Trevor): A boy finds solace in the company of a strange girl as domestic life becomes more and more difficult. 

Encounter by Night (Mary Frances McHugh): A man who is trying to find shelter for the night stumbles upon a tragic event. Sad and shocking, set in Dublin.

A Ghost Story (Mary Beckett): A young married couple that seems unable to see eye to eye in practically everything is about to fall apart because of a haunted house and a TV.

Uncanny Ireland left me with a range of responses, which is something I value in a collection like this. A few stories stayed with me—The Sea’s Dead and The Wee Gray Woman in particular—while others felt forgettable or simply not for me. But that’s part of reading widely: letting yourself respond honestly, rather than expecting each piece to resonate in the same way. What I appreciated most was how rooted these stories are in place and memory—how they carry the weight of old beliefs, quiet heartbreaks, and things half-said. There’s something universal in that, even if the setting is deeply Irish. These stories may come from another time and place, but the feelings they stir—longing, fear, wonder—are instantly familiar. While Uncanny Ireland offers many moments of atmospheric richness and haunting storytelling, it didn’t consistently maintain that immersive quality for me throughout. A few stories truly stood out and lingered, but others felt less compelling or just didn’t resonate. By my usual standards, when I find myself wavering between 4 and 5 stars, it’s a clear sign to lean toward 4—honesty in ratings matters to me. This collection is well worth reading, especially for lovers of Irish folklore and uncanny tales, but it’s not without its uneven patches.

“The greys of the landscape deepened; the green - purple of the trees sunk into gulfs of black all around; a few poplars beyond the cabins stirred faintly in the sky, and the white-blossomed boughs of an alder-tree glimmering out of the deepest darkness down the vanished road, and suggested the hovering nearness, yet aloofness of a reserve of sympathetic and vigilant spirits.”

Many thanks to the British Library Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

I didn't dnf, which is something. I was tempted until I realized there was a reason Sterling was a condescending prick, even toward his own family. I never loved this book, barely liked it, but was always just curious enough to see how it would play out to keep reading to the end.

It's riddled with problems though. 

Cynrik isn't a major character, but he suffers from the MASSIVE book flaw of being a character everyone (author and characters) describes as one thing without ever actually showing any hint of that trait. In this case, everyone talks about how charming Cynrik is and yet he never does a single charming thing the entire book. In fact, he's a complete jackass. One can only hope he's under a curse that gets lifted in a later book in the series because otherwise he's just awful for no reason.

Also, it's overwritten at times and full of the sort of really obvious phrases that mark a novice writer. 

I wouldn't say being predictable is a flaw when dealing with a fairy tale retelling, or two. Combining Snow White and the Snow Queen is a pretty decent premise. The logic of the two fairy tales holds together pretty well. At about 16% of the way through it occurred to me this could be Snow White and the Snow Queen in one story. He’s bewitched and her magic sets him free from being a colossal jerk. 23% of the way through I figured out it’s one of the missing shards from her mirror in his eye. 

The next problem comes in barely halfway through when it feels like the story should be building toward a climax and yet it's…barely halfway through. There's almost enough story to justify the extended tale but the pacing degenerates from that halfway mark. From that point forward there's a lot less happening and a lot more internal monologues, characters rehashing their emotional states in the internal monologues, ridiculous fears and insecurities and illogical ideas and assumptions rehashed in internal monologues… There is also some action and some story that simply isn't executed particularly well.

Also, this series is weird. The books are all published within a few months of each other, and the page counts are like a bell curve getting longer and longer until a midpoint and then they all get shorter and shorter. I don't know why I noticed but it's odd.

Overall, a decent idea that could have fixed most of its problems with a good editor.

DNF at 30%.

Sloane was so annoying! She was basically sexually harassing Hudson. I don't care if he was into it privately, because he never communicated that. All he did was tell Sloane to stop. Please stop showing me your boobs. Please stop telling me you want to sit on my face.

If the roles were reversed and a man did this stuff he'd get shit for it. I don't like how the book treated Sloane's behaviour as okay. It was just gross.

Orwellian. 1984 was originally published in 1949 - 76 yrs and 2 days before the publication of this book - and its final line in particular is echoed in this book. (Not revealing it here so as to avoid spoilers, though yes, *some* people - me, I am "some people" - will remember it exactly.)

Here, we get a very similar effect in the end, if not a retelling of the overall story of someone rebelling against a thing they are tied to in so many ways before being abused back into loving the thing they originally rebelled against. Obviously without the political commentary, as (as another reviewer noted), Rouda is clearly making a name for herself in the trainwreck popcorn thriller market. Why insert any overt politics and piss off whatever segment of potential readers, after all? :)

Thus, fans of Rouda will love this new entry. Those new to Rouda's writing will find a pretty spot on example of it here, at least in my reading of her last few books (though not all of them, yet). And yes, her style doesn't leave anyone looking particularly great or give the reader really anyone to "root for" 100%. Nobody is a truly "good" character, but all of the characters work reasonably well for their role in the story being told. And the story being told will have you on the edge of your seat much of the time, with little time for any "potty break" sections.

If you're looking for a darkly entertaining thriller with minimal blood or sex or even really cursing... you've found exactly that. If you're looking for something that is not pretty well exactly that... this ain't what you're looking for. It really is as simple as that, as is the case with pretty well every Rouda book. (Some may have more sex than others, some may have more cursing than others, but largely if you're ok with reading about people doing horrible things to each other, up to and including murder both onscreen and off... you're going to be ok here.)

Overall a darkly fun book that will be perfect summer reading for some, and that may be either too dark or even not dark enough for others.

Very much recommended.