Tag: Young Adult

Book Review

And They Were Roommates by Page Powars

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And They Were Roommates by Page Powars is a YA romantic comedy set at an all-boys boarding school, wrapped in Valentine’s Day antics, secret love letters, and the heightened emotions of being 16 and figuring yourself out. I went into this one with high expectations, partly because I love most things associated with the meme the title originates from, and partly because of the trans representation at its center. And we get all of that! This book is charming and genuinely sweet, but it’s also uneven, overly silly at times, and emotionally thinner than I wanted it to be. I kept wishing it would go deeper and let the characters linger in some of the heavier, more real moments instead of constantly playing to the bit.

Book cover for And They Were Roommates by Page Powars.

I’d been drawn to those boys because I wanted to be a boy. Because I was a boy.

Page Powars, And They Were Roommates

One of the strongest aspects of the book is Charlie as a protagonist, particularly in how his internal anxieties are portrayed. Powars does a good job capturing the hypervigilance that can come with being trans in spaces that don’t always feel safe or fully welcoming. Charlie’s fear isn’t rooted in shame about who he is, but in the very real concern of being scrutinized, questioned, or denied the ability to exist comfortably as himself

Jasper, on the other hand, was where the romance really lost me. As a love interest, he often came across as more irritating than intriguing, and I struggled to understand what originally drew Charlie to him so strongly. The book hinges on their shared past at summer camp and frames their relationship as a meaningful second-chance romance, but when that first chance happened at 13, it’s difficult to buy the depth and permanence of that bond. I tend to be skeptical of second-chance romance in YA for this reason, and this book didn’t quite convince me otherwise. The emotional stakes felt inflated without enough concrete backstory to support them.

Love is never not scary. It’s a matter of whether you’re enjoying that fear.

Page Powars, And They Were Roommates

Tonally, this novel leans hard into whimsy. The Valentine Academy setting, the anonymous love letter delivery service, and the heightened drama all gave me strong K-drama, J-drama, and even manga vibes (I kept thinking of Hana-Kimi!). That aesthetic can be very fun, and at times it absolutely worked. I loved the classic all-boys boarding school atmosphere, but that sense of contained chaos taken together sometimes overwhelmed the emotional throughline. Too many subplots were introduced, and not enough of them received satisfying closure by the end.

The love-letter premise is a good example of this. Charlie and Jasper writing anonymous romantic letters for their classmates creates plenty of angst and comedic mishaps, but the plot never quite lands its point. I expected the story to resolve this either by empowering students to write their own letters or by fundamentally changing the relationship between the two campuses. Instead, the thread simply fizzles out, leaving me unsure what the point was, beyond fueling drama.

Overall, And They Were Roommates is sweet, sincere, and full of queer joy. Readers who love exaggerated rom-com energy, boarding school settings, and lighthearted YA romance may have a great time with it. For me, though, the characterization needed more grounding, and the romance never really earns its emotional payoff. Still, I’m glad this book exists, and I hope it finds the readers who will adore it.

Thank you to NetGalley and Roaring Brook Press / Macmillan Children’s Publishing Group for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Where There’s Room for Us by Hayley Kiyoko

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In a reimagined 1880s England where same-sex love is accepted yet the patriarchy still rules, Hayley Kiyoko delivers a tender romance between two young women navigating the tension between selfhood and social expectation. Where There’s Room for Us follows Ivy, an outspoken poet from New York who relocates to England, and Freya, a dutiful socialite who’s expected to marry a lord and produce heirs in order to secure her family’s legacy. What begins as curiosity quickly deepens into a slow-burn sapphic romance filled with charm, social commentary, and a quiet but persistent sense of rebellion as Ivy and Freya begin to imagine a life that might finally be their own—if they can bear the cost of claiming it.

Book cover for Where There's Room for Us by Hayley Kiyoko.

It’s not every day a whole prime minister accuses you of being a harbinger of sapphic doom.

Hayley Kiyoko, Where There’s Room for Us

Ivy and Freya feel like two different versions of girlhood crashing into each other at the exact right moment. Ivy already knows who she is. She’s flirtatious, outspoken, comfortable sinking into her love for women without apology. She walks into a room and you can practically feel all the air shift her way. Freya, by contrast, has spent her life doing what she is told and calling it love. She reveres her father and plans to marry Lord Montgomery because that is the path laid out for her. But when she meets Ivy, she has to name what she wants for the first time in her life, and that awakening is honestly so satisfying.

Freya’s mostly peripheral relationship with her father is also more layered than I expected. She loves him and wants his approval, but eventually begins to see that his approval comes with a cost she can no longer keep paying. He is obsessed with securing an heir who can inherit his title, and because he only has daughters, he pushes Freya toward a marriage she does not want. There is one particular moment when he discovers how Freya feels about Ivy, and his reaction is ugly. Freya runs, and for one fleeting instant, she imagines what might have happened if her sister hadn’t found her and taken her in, how easily she could have been left with nowhere to go. That brief beat in the story brushes against something painfully real for many queer readers: the fear of losing home, safety, and family simply for being honest about who they are. Kiyoko weaves moments like this throughout the story, grounding the romance in quiet echoes of real-world anxieties and creating an emotional connection that feels both tender and true.

What a thing, to just be accepted like she belongs.

Hayley Kiyoko, Where There’s Room for Us

By removing homophobia from this fictional world yet leaving sexism intact, Kiyoko forces readers to see how privilege and oppression can coexist within the same structures. It reframes Victorian England through a speculative lens that feels both fresh and hauntingly recognizable. Marriage equality exists, but equality itself does not. A woman may love another woman, but she cannot inherit her father’s title or estate because that privilege is only afforded to men. This results in an intriguing tension between freedom and frustration, where Ivy and Freya’s hearts are liberated but their fates are not. It’s a subtle but biting commentary on how reform without equality still reinforces old hierarchies.

The romance is where the book falters slightly. Ivy and Freya are undeniably sweet, sometimes so sugary it almost made my teeth ache. Their early scenes together are tender and full of kissing in gardens, along forest paths, against trees—everywhere—and while that has its charm, I kept wishing for a little more tension beneath all that softness. Time jumps also rush past key emotional turns. Conflicts flare, confessions are made, family drama erupts, and then suddenly it’s two weeks later and everything has quietly resolved itself. I wanted to linger in those rough edges and actually see Ivy and Freya fight for what they keep saying is worth everything.

The novel’s closed-door romance approach adds to that sense of restraint. It’s likely a deliberate choice to make the story accessible to younger readers, and that’s understandable, but it leaves a noticeable gap between what’s shown and what’s implied.

If security comes at the cost of your soul, then it is not a choice you can make freely.

Hayley Kiyoko, Where There’s Room for Us

For all its emotional depth, the story’s conclusion feels too tidy and rushed. Some conflicts wrap up too neatly, and some emotional threads, especially between Freya and her father, never really get revisited. I kept waiting for the book to force her father to face his hypocrisy, but instead, he is mostly allowed to stay himself. On one hand, that is realistic. A lot of queer readers know exactly what it’s like to love a parent who will never meet you in the middle. On the other hand, I wish the story spelled out what that means for Freya long term. Sometimes I want to see plots like that buttoned up in fiction since real life isn’t required to make sense or be fair. Alas!

Still, this book reads like a love letter to queer readers. Ivy and Freya are adorable together, but it’s the context around their romance—the inheritance laws, the rigid gender roles, the quiet heartbreak of disappointing a beloved parent simply for being who you are—that really resonates. Kiyoko’s world doesn’t fix everything, but it gives us space to imagine better. And for that alone, it’s worth a read.

Thank you to NetGalley and Wednesday Books for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Thieves’ Gambit by Kayvion Lewis

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Thieves’ Gambit by Kayvion Lewis is a young adult thriller that plunges readers into a vibrant, fast-paced world of high-stakes heists and intricate betrayals. It features seventeen-year-old Rosalyn Quest, or Ross, who belongs to an infamous family of legendary thieves. On the very night Ross resolves to escape her family’s criminal legacy, her mother is kidnapped. To rescue her, Ross enters the prestigious Thieves’ Gambit, an international competition of perilous challenges, extravagant heists, and ruthless opponents. Victory promises a single wish to the winner—and Ross’s best chance to save her mom. But as the competition escalates and alliances form and fracture, Ross must decide who to trust, and how much she’s willing to risk to win.

Book cover for Thieves' Gambit by Kayvion Lewis.

I was stealing my own future back.

Kayvion Lewis, Thieves’ Gambit

Right from the start, Ross emerged as my favorite part of this book. She’s tough, resourceful, and relatable. Her evolution from someone who staunchly follows the family rule—“if they’re not a Quest, they can’t be trusted”—to a character who cautiously opens herself up to others, feels genuine and rewarding. I really felt for her as she slowly learned through interactions with her new friends that the family she’s so fiercely loyal to has actually isolated her from the type of life she’s always wanted. The struggle to reconcile who you are with who you want to be is something so relatable.

However, this novel does face some hurdles. With its familiar heist and competition elements, it occasionally fails to establish its own identity distinct from similar stories in the genre. Lewis tees up some thrilling challenges for the Gambit, and it’s fun to watch Ross and the other competitors work through them. But Six of Crows, The Inheritance Games, and even Ocean’s Eleven have been floating around for years. I love a good heist, but the predictability of a less lethal Hunger Games often left me craving something uniquely fresh or surprising with this story.

If you’re not making friends, you’re making enemies.

Kayvion Lewis, Thieves’ Gambit

Another aspect that didn’t entirely hit the mark was the romantic subplot involving Devroe. Though Devroe had brief moments of intriguing vulnerability, his relationship with Ross lacked depth and chemistry. It felt somewhat superficial and rushed, making it difficult to root for them. Perhaps that’s partially due to all the characters actively competing against each other in challenges that rely on them outwitting their opponents. Still, I needed more than a charm offensive from Devroe. That said, I did enjoy the other secondary characters; Kyung-soon and Mylo were two favorites. Lewis’s diversity in character backgrounds and cultures is commendable and by far one of the best things about this book.

Ultimately, Thieves’ Gambit is an enjoyable read ideal for fans of heist adventures and fierce female leads. Though the romance underwhelms and some narrative choices slightly dull its shine, the clever plot, exciting heists, and layered protagonist make it a worthwhile pick.

Thank you to NetGalley and Nancy Paulsen Books for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White

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Frances White’s Voyage of the Damned is a locked-room murder mystery set aboard a ship in a fantasy empire teetering on the edge of chaos. Ganymedes “Dee” Piscero, the most unremarkable hero of Concordia’s twelve magical heirs, is thrust into a deadly game when a fellow heir is brutally murdered. With no magical “Blessing” of his own, Dee must rely on his wits and sheer luck to survive as suspicion and bloodshed multiply aboard the emperor’s ship. As tensions mount, the question isn’t just who the killer is—it’s whether anyone will survive the voyage long enough for it to matter.

Book cover for Voyage of the Damned by Frances White.

As if the restrictive shell of a body is more important than the infinite possibilities of a mind.

Frances White, Voyage of the Damned

The premise hooked me immediately: A fantasy murder mystery? Twelve heirs, each with a unique secret power, trapped on a ship with a killer among them? Sign me up! The romance—abrupt as it was—grew on me, too. There’s something tender about Dee’s connection with Wyatt that offsets the grimness of the plot. And it was sweet to see a self-loathing protagonist stumble into vulnerability through a soft love story amidst all the chaos unfolding around them.

But with that said, the execution left a lot to be desired. The worldbuilding is the book’s glaring weak spot. Concordia’s provinces are so reductive they feel like caricatures. Each province is defined by a single animal and a somewhat related industry (and a matching hair color for some reason?). From what I gathered, the magic is hereditary within one single family per province, and it passes down from a parent to one of their children, but other than that, the magic lacks any discernible system or depth. I also found myself asking way too many questions about the logistics of this world. For instance, why are there finger guns in a high fantasy setting where actual guns don’t exist? And in this world where there is no electricity, why are there hot dogs, cotton candy, and poutine, and references to how undeniably cool it is to walk away from an explosion without looking back, and comments on something being so good it’s ”like crack”? None of it makes sense and fundamentally strips the setting of its believability.

They keep their memories and stories safe within music, where empires cannot touch them.

Frances White, Voyage of the Damned

The characters are both a highlight and a source of frustration. Dee’s self-deprecating humor and insecurities make him relatable early on, but as the bodies start piling up, his self-absorption and misplaced priorities are distracting and confusing. Why is he busy agonizing over choosing between a dead ex-lover and his very new romantic interest when they’re all actively being pursued by a murderer? I wish White had spent more time on Dee’s journey of self-discovery and his battle with internalized shame, particularly given the book’s LGBTQ+ representation. I appreciated the barest hints of themes like unity, oppression, and the effects of colonialism, but I needed to see way more of it. I also loved Grasshopper and the dynamic between Dee and Grasshopper. Hands down the best part of the book. Unfortunately, the rest of the cast felt more like stereotypes than people, each defined by a single trait.

Representation in fantasy is something I always root for, so seeing characters like Dee, a bisexual, plus-size person grappling with mental health struggles, and Wyatt, who lives with chronic pain and illness, felt refreshing and necessary. Their identities and challenges added depth and realism to the story, as well as glimmers of inclusivity often lacking in this genre. However, as part of the late-stage plot twist, we discover that this version of Wyatt isn’t even real. It’s such a betrayal to Dee (and, honestly, I’m not sure how he could just get over it!) and to the readers who got invested in the romance developing between Dee and Wyatt. It soured the entire story for me because it felt a little like the work this relationship did to help normalize characters like Dee and Wyatt finding love in the stories we consume was just a trick. Fantasy deserves better, and so do the readers who see themselves in these characters.

The final wall around my heart crumbles and his love fills the untouched space behind.

Frances White, Voyage of the Damned

In addition to my major issues with the romance, representation, worldbuilding, and characters, the locked-room mystery also falls short. Instead of piecing together clues, Dee passively gathers information handed to him by other characters. It feels lazy and robs the story of the tension and intrigue that make a good mystery compelling. The story felt really aimless in that regard, and what’s even more frustrating is I don’t think there was any way for readers to solve the murder mystery on their own. Where’s the fun in that?

Voyage of the Damned reads like young adult fiction, so marketing it as adult fantasy sets up expectations it can’t meet. I never got attached enough to the characters, the mission, or the world, so it essentially failed to deliver the compulsive, edge-of-your-seat tension I expect from a murder mystery. The writing is accessible with memorable flashes of wit and charm, but ultimately, any redeeming qualities are drowned out by inconsistent characterization, clunky worldbuilding, and a mystery that doesn’t trust its audience to engage. Fans of lighter fantasy or creative LGBTQ+ representation may enjoy its quirky charm, but for those seeking a tightly woven mystery or a richly immersive fantasy world, this voyage may be one to skip.

Thank you to NetGalley and HarperCollins Publishers / Mira Books for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

House of Marionne by J. Elle

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Seventeen-year-old Quell has spent her life in the shadows, fleeing from city to city to hide the forbidden magic coursing through her veins. But when her secret is discovered, and her mother’s life hangs in the balance, Quell is forced into the gilded world of the Order, a high-society magical debutante system where the stakes are as deadly as they are dazzling. To survive, she must navigate the Order’s trials, master new forms of magic, and resist the allure of her handsome, shadow-wielding mentor—all while concealing her own outlawed powers. But as the dark truths of the Order unravel, Quell faces an impossible choice: tame the magic she fears, or embrace the monster within.

Book cover for House of Marionne by J. Elle.

I’ve done it. I’ve stepped into this world we’ve spent our entire lives running from. There’s no turning back now.

J. Elle, House of Marionne

In House of Marionne, author J. Elle offers an ambitious mix of dark academia, magical intrigue, and an enemies-to-lovers romance. While its premise is captivating, the story doesn’t fully deliver on its promise. The concept of toushana magic—a cornerstone of the story—is underexplored, leaving readers with more questions than answers. The visual idea of diadems and masks as manifestations of mature magic is intriguing (if uncomfortably gendered), but the logic behind them feels incomplete. For instance, the practicalities—like how they impact daily life or sleep—are glossed over. I kept wondering how no one ever got their hair tangled in a diadem! (Magical reasons?) This lack of clarity makes the world-building feel more like a collection of ideas than a cohesive system.

The characters fare slightly better, though still not without their flaws. Quell is a strong, determined protagonist, but her decisions—especially her quick trust in her suspicious grandmother—don’t always align with her survivalist upbringing. Jordan, her mysterious love interest, is a mix of brooding intensity and trope-heavy predictability. He seems designed to evoke fan-favorite archetypes like Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses) or Xaden (Fourth Wing) but falls short of their depth and charisma. Yagrin, a fascinating side character with the potential to steal the show, is frustratingly underutilized. It’s easy to imagine a version of the story from his perspective being far more compelling.

The novel’s writing style is accessible and engaging, though it skews toward a middle-grade tone despite its young adult (YA) label. This lighter touch makes the book easy to read but also limits its emotional resonance and complexity. For instance, many of the lines where Quell describes how she views Jordan physically are so beautiful, but the writing never fully convinces me of their deeper connection. The narrative leans heavily on familiar YA fantasy tropes, and while these elements create a solid framework, they lack the originality or depth needed to stand out. As a result, the attempt to weave in themes of power and danger also often feels surface-level, relying more on atmosphere than substance.

She is fury and determination. Insatiable at times, and intensely powerful. She is also destruction. But some things deserve to be destroyed.

J. Elle, House of Marionne

Ultimately, House of Marionne knows its audience. For readers looking for a fast-paced story with a magical setting, forbidden romance, and high-stakes danger, it delivers. The Order’s glitzy debutante culture and deadly secrets provide an atmospheric backdrop, and the romance, while not groundbreaking, has its moments. Casual readers who enjoy YA fantasy for its escapism and drama will likely find the book entertaining. However, for those seeking deeper world-building or more complex characters, the charm of this book will likely feel more like a spark than a flame.

Thank you to NetGalley and Razorbill / Penguin Random House for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.