The Bird King is, quite simply, a beautiful, vividly imaginative book. The story, the characters, the world building, the mythology… Wilson crafts all of these so masterfully that it’s easy — and immensely enjoyable — to lose oneself in the world she has created. The story is set in 1491, at a sultanate on the verge of collapsing to the Christian Spanish empire. Our heroine is Fatima, one of the sultan’s concubines who has never been beyond the palace walls. Her best friend is Hassan, the palace map maker with the ability to create reality with the maps he draws. When Fatima unwittingly reveals Hassan’s abilities to a woman from the Spanish Inquisition, she and Hassan flee the palace to save Hassan’s life.

The story takes place in an actual historical period, and there are certainly many elements that reveal the realities of the time. Through Fatima, we feel almost viscerally the fear the Muslim characters felt as they are hunted by the Spanish Inquisition. We see elements of the torture they inflict, and how the sultan himself is kept hostage by his love for his children. I especially love the details that make Fatima and Hassan’s struggles feel real, for example the taste of the water they have to drink and the way Fatima’s feet are in great pain because she’s never walked further than within the palace walls. Most of all, the story is infused with a sense of impending tragedy. We know that Islamic sultanates will fall to Spanish rule, we know the horrific injustices done to non-Christians, and we know how the effects of this period in history continue to be felt today. Yet like Fatima, we are helpless to do anything to prevent its inevitability; all we can do is hope that Fatima and Hassan, and others like them, can at least escape.

The magic of this novel however is how deftly Wilson interweaves mythology and supernatural elements within the realistic events. In the palace, even before the Spanish forces arrive, Fatima and Hassan pass the time by telling stories about The Bird King. Inspired by a half-finished poem they found, they imagine how various kinds of birds travel long distances to a mythical island where the king of the birds dwells. In Fatima and Hassan’s flight, what begins as a casual pastime transforms into a focal point of hope, as Hassan draws a map that he says leads to the real island of the Bird King, where he and Fatima will be safe both from the sultan and from Spain.

Wilson somehow makes this work, and even though we share in Fatima’s skepticism that the map actually leads anywhere, we also can’t help but get caught up in her hope that it does. Throughout their journey, they are assisted by djinns and a Catholic priest, and I love how Wilson uses these characters to make her world so much richer. For example, when Fatima asks one of the djinns how the original Bird King poem ends, his response is cryptic yet turns out to be more true than we initially realize. And when the Catholic priest sees Hassan’s map and shares a story from his own culture, we realize how many of these stories and mythologies can overlap, and somehow all be true in some way.

The ending fell a bit short for me, just because the lead up was so epic, and to be honest, the last few chapters confused me at first. But I do like how the story of the Bird King turns out, and how it critiques and subverts ideas of gender roles. And even though it confused me, I do like how the ending blurs the boundaries between space and time, much as the story has always blurred the boundaries between mythologies.

This is an incredible book, perfect for readers of historical fantasy, especially if like me, you’re looking for more women-centric stories, and more diverse range of mythologies.

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Thank you to Publishers Group Canada for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

All the Wrong Places is an entertaining, engrossing read.

It’s billed as a thriller and in some ways, it is. There’s certainly an undercurrent of menace throughout with the presence of the serial killer (who gets his own chapters so we see his schemes unfold in terrifying detail. There are also red herrings galore and an unexpected, violent twist.

But despite all that, the novel didn’t feel as if it focused on the thrillerish aspects so much as on the three women (Paige, her mother Joan and best friend Chloe) all trying to rebuild their lives after traumatic experiences. Even though the blurb teases about the dangers of online dating, only one of the characters ever actually seriously tries it out. The rest dip their toes into it, but their stories ultimately take them in a different direction.

I liked that. I was expecting a pretty standard thriller but got something else entirely, which kept me off-balance throughout. I also like how Fielding delves into issues of domestic violence and emotional abuse (with enough detail to merit a content warning), and the harsh realities thereof.

One thing I didn’t like is that the subplots about Joan’s trips to the hospital got a bit repetitive after a while. The first time was horrific, but by the last visit’s reveal, it just felt like an unnecessary element to add artificial drama rather than anything real. That being said, I do like that Joan gets her own romance, and that Fielding makes Paige, and likely many readers as well, confront and critically examine our assumptions when it comes to dating for senior citizens.

I also really didn’t like how Heather’s story turns out. Fielding does a good job of making her sympathetic despite all the crap she pulls. And possibly because all the other main characters hate Heather so much, I genuinely found her one of the most sympathetic characters. I thought she at least deserved more sympathy than she was given, and I wish her story could have been resolved differently.

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Thanks to Penguin Random House Canada for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I loved Bloodleaf! The title comes from a plant that plays a huge role in this book: a flower whose petals can bring someone back from the brink of death, and yet that requires someone else’s death to bloom. Crystal Smith has created a complex, compelling world where magic is very strongly linked to sacrifice, where the use of magic is a highly politicized subject that has divided nations, and where, in order to save two kingdoms, a princess disguised as a commoner must learn to harness the abilities she’s had to suppress her entire life.

I was hooked immediately by this book and couldn’t put it down. I loved Princess Aurelia, how she possessed powers she was barred from understanding and so could never quite control, and how she developed through the story into a young woman who is finally coming to terms with the incredible range of her potential. There was a subplot involving a horse that I hated, just because I hate reading about animal cruelty and death in general, but I do appreciate how every single decision the characters make have consequences. Later, this unfolds in an even more tragic way when Aurelia wields her most significant magical act at the climax of the story, and it really brings home Smith’s theme of what exactly you’d be willing to give up in order to wield magic for a greater good.

The love story between Aurelia and Zan was fun to read. I loved their chemistry together, and how they challenged each other to become better. I also liked how Smith treated Zan’s disability — it was always a factor in their adventure — at several points, Zan gets winded during a physical activity, and at a couple of moments, Aurelia uses her magic to absorb his pain into herself and so experiences it first-hand. But unlike the way disability is portrayed in other books, it’s neither a point of pity (none of the characters ever tell him how sad it is that he has to deal with that) nor is it a source of supreme heroism (no one ever treats him like a superhero for simply existing with a heart condition). Zan does experience self-doubt at times because of his condition, but significantly, Smith makes it very clear that it’s not the condition itself that causes this but rather growing up with a father who keeps berating him and putting him down for his “weakness.” I loved that about this story.

Finally, I also love how the schism between Aurelia and Zan’s nations stems from their respective society’s having a different interpretation of the same origin story. Both their nations agree that generations ago, a woman dies at the hands of one of her brothers, and that magic is somehow involved. But specifically which brother kills her, and what role magic plays in her death is in dispute, and as a result, a very different version of the story gets handed down through generations depending on which nation you’re born into. I thought this was a particularly potent metaphor for the ways in which stories define us, and the way that facts are often distorted for political goals.

Bloodleaf is a thought-provoking and entertaining book, and wonderful to lose oneself in. I loved it, and am excited about the rest of the series.

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Thank you to Raincoast Books for an advance reading copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.