An April wrap-up in early May, part 1: werewolf romance, DNF, and gay detectives

This month, instead of finishing my thesis, I got a new job that ate away all of my reading time.

And as is tradition, I’m writing this review at the perfect time: a week late.

Mate (2025)

I’ve had trouble falling asleep lately. New city, new job, old problems, no sleep. I was trying everything to unscrew my sleeping pattern: I gave up cofffee after 3pm (a huge sacrifice), did my best to eat early, avoided screens like the plague an hour before bedtime, nothing was doing it AND I was bored out of my mind because I had nothing left to do while winding down. Most of the time I read on my tablet but that was now outlawed from the bedroom, and my only physical book was Babel by R.F. Kuang. While I was having the time of my life reading it during the day (still haven’t finished that one but I’m slowly chipping at it), come night, the big words and concepts were not really helping me get some quality zzzzs. I needed something simpler. Dumber. A book I could nod off to and not miss much. I needed… a romance.

I went to The Bookshelf Hanoi, a cute little book shop near my flat, in search of just that, and when I spied with my little eyes Ali Hazelwood’s name on the new releases’ shelf, I knew I had hit the jackpot. I read her novella Hot for Slayer at the beginning of the year and had a fun, goofy time, so I knew I would be in good hands. And there it was. As far as the eye could see. Straight couples making out against brightly coloured backdrops, punny titles, outlandish plots. Everything I had dreamed of. Two caught my attention more than the others, with their dark designs: Bride, and Mate. I saw the blood, the girls, and the big bad wolves, and I knew I held gold in my hands.

Not just romances, not just romantic comedies, but supernatural romances. I hadn’t read any of those since my Teen Wolf fanfiction era!

And let me tell you, this was perfect. Plot points I could only vaguely pay attention to and still understand the story? Check. Easy to understand dynamics? Check. Lines so unhinged I felt like I was on crack? Check. A copious amount of sex? Double check.

The only issue I had with it was… kind of my fault. I chose Mate at random. Pretty soon into the story I felt like I was missing a lot: characters talked of past events with very little details, many concepts were mentioned but not explained, the dynamics seemed established, and the timeline was out of whack. It was frustrating and I grumbled about it a lot in my notes, until I realised that… well… it was probably because those events had been narrated, these concepts explained, the dynamics established. Turns out Mate is the second installment into the Bride series.

My bad. Could have been clearer though! Like, the mention of « by the author of Bride » on the cover is not enough, guys!! or should I consider that Emma is a sequel because it was marketed as « by the author of Pride and Prejudice« ??? ANYWAY.

There was a lot more plot than I was expecting. Really, it kind of put a damper on my whole « using a book as a substitute for sleeping pills » plan when I found myself riveted to Serena and Koen’s relationship dramas at 2am on a work night. There was also a lot more heartstrings-tugging than I had foreseen. Someone tell me why I was tearing up while reading a werewolf sexy book??? Please.

Tress of the Emerald Sea (2023)

Very sorry to say that I was not a fan. It took me a while to understand why. Was it the tone? It was similar to Pratchett’s or Kingfisher’s, and I absolutely love theirs! The story? I found it intriguing in the beginning, so it couldn’t be that. The characters? Maybe. I wasn’t in love yet. The problem is, it never happened.

And that’s about where I stopped. Around page 98.

First and foremost, it read like a kids’ book, in the worst way possible. I don’t think that sounding like a kids’ book is necessarily a bad thing. In fact, some of my favourite books are targetted for children! I am but a tall(ish) child myself! Nor do I mind simple characters or stories: I believe books are often a lot stronger with them, because it’s easier to create strong protagonists and narratives when they are kept tight, focused.

A flaw I often find in books is that the author tries to do too much. They want to tackle everything, every issue, and that reflects on their characters and on the plot, and the result is a huge muddled mess of an experience – almost every time. Tress of the Emerald Sea didn’t fall into these traps. It didn’t have any strong themes, maybe apart from « Believe in yourself! You can do it! », so they could hardly get messed up. However, it fell in another, which turned me off way more than the others could.

The tone was unbearable. Like for The House in the Cerulean Sea, I kept wondering if I was reading the same book as everyone else. How could it be enjoyed so much, by people with good taste (I presume), but feel so unbearable to me? I wanted most characters to shut up as soon as they appeared on the page, or to at least change into more realistic versions of themselves. I do not mind if characters are goofy. I loved Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett and A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher, both recent reads, and I am a huge fan of Douglas Adams’ work. But this novel didn’t feel like any of those.

What I admire most in writing is when the author is invisible. When it seems like the words just manifest into existence on their own. Or when the words chosen seem so perfect and flow so well together that it seems effortless, like the author sat down, wrote his sentence, and left, and it was perfect this way. In this instance, Tress didn’t feel like that at all. I was painfully aware of the writer. He was inescapable. He was there at every joke – so every paragraph – pointing them out to me, perched over my shoulder, telling me how funny they were, how funny he was, asking me to laugh, which is the least funny feeling in the world.

It was like sitting first row at a comedy club while a comic is bombing on stage. Inches away from you. Never breaking eye contact. And the more he bombs, the harder he leans into the shitty jokes, the cringier it gets.

I was sincerely relieved when I opened Libby one day and realised that it had been taken away from me. I was free! Thank you Libby! I won’t put a hold on it again, I read enough to know I won’t have a good time anyway the story goes. My time is too precious for that. I will probably still be reading at least the first novels in his Mistborn and Stormlight Archive series tough because they are what Sanderson is actually known for, but I do hope it will be better than that…

Fadeout (1970)

I found this novel by chance, just by looking through the « available now » section on Libby. I was confused by the description at first because I could not tell if it was the plot or only about the book itself. It talked about gay detectives in the 1970s, and I thought at first « Oh that’s neat, a story about a gay detective in the 1970s » and was ready to move on, till I re-read it and realised that this was a gay detective story WRITTEN in the 1970s! My mind could not process that info, and I had to read it again and again, but it is true! And it was written by a proud homosexual man! About a proud homosexual man! In the 1970s! And it’s a series! There is a god, hallelujah!

First of all, what a cool cover.

Second of all, the style was very striking. Dry. Repetitive. Brief sentences. It gave off an eerie feeling that intrigued me.

Thirdly, as I have mentioned earlier, Dave Brandstetter was the first gay main character in the detective genre. As such, he could have been self-loathing, a creep, or an antagonis – the roles usualy assigned to gay characters in novels before – yet he is far from that. He is comfortable with being gay and not afraid to out himself if necessary. He is also my favourite kind of characters: honourable, dignified, and compassionate.

I particularly liked the conversation with his father, who is aware of his son’s sexuality and that he has a life partner, accepts it (somehow) but only as a phase:

I was not expecting this novel to deal so much with grief. Dave has recently lost his life partner and is reeling from it. It is an open wound. Old songs, a sandwitch order, even the colour of a passing car, all those little things trigger memories, happy and sad, but ultimately all tragic because no matter how joyful they are, they all bring him back to his loss. The happy times are over.

I liked seeing how, grieving as he is, he still hasn’t given up on future love. When he is offered the possibility to enter into a loving, platonic relationship with a long-term lesbian friend, he becomes aware that he has the capacity for more love in his life and that he should not give up on it just yet. One day the pain will be lessened, and he will still be alive, and he’ll need to keep going. I though that was an interesting depiction of widow(er)hood, as it is often implied that the only way to honour and love a departed significant other is to give up on future romantic relationships altogether. As if finding love again lessened the relationship that ended too early. Dave shows that love is not a ressource that can be diminished, but one that grows – when one is ready to welcome it.

I borrowed this book only out of curiosity but I ended really wrapped up in the mystery of what had happened to Fox Olsen, and I will definitely be reading more of these novels as I get my hands on them!

Next time, a graphic novel and a blockbuster-y Sci Fi!

Or will there be?