Step forward if you’re a Remarkably Bright Creatures superfan like me.

You too? Well I’m sure you can relate to the equal-parts fear and anticipation I was feeling leading up to the release of the Netflix movie adaptation.

I’ve been stung too many times by beloved books failing to translate to screen (People We Meet on Vacation, I’m looking at you). Still, after seeing the trailer circa 200 times, I found myself cautiously optimistic.

Thankfully, that optimism paid off.

I’ll admit, for the first 20 minutes I was sitting there anxiously thinking, “Why haven’t they introduced XYZ yet?” while desperately trying to fill in the gaps for my partner beside me. But eventually everything clicked into place, and I realised I needn’t have worried.

This adaptation captured the same emotional depth and profoundness that made the novel so special.

Of course, some elements were changed, so let’s start there. Though note, these are just the differences that stood out to me personally, I may have missed others.

First, the film removes the sequence of Tova visiting and applying to the retirement village. Instead, we meet her after the decision has already been made through hearing a voicemail she keeps avoiding. Honestly, this worked for me. Playing out the entire scene probably would have slowed the pacing and wasn’t necessary for the consequent scenes or emotional payoff, so cutting it felt reasonable.

What initially threw me, however, was Cameron’s introduction. We meet him arriving in Sowell Bay with almost no context, which had me immediately whispering explanations to my partner: “He’s from California, he’s there looking for his father after his mother died…blah blah” Eventually the film does give us pieces of that history, just later on and in a more surmised way. I didn’t dislike the choice, but I do think the lack of setup made his early scenes feel slightly confusing.

Another noticeable change is how quickly Cameron gets the job. In the book, we see Ethan recommend him and the interview process itself, whereas the film skips straight to Cameron’s first interaction with Tova whilst on his shift. It doesn’t affect the overall story, but even a brief transition scene could have helped smooth the jump from unemployed to employed.

Then there’s Marcellus. Overall, he’s portrayed beautifully, and many of his scenes remain faithful to the book. However, it felt like the adaptation toned down some of the subtle hints and easter eggs that he had already pieced together the central revelation. I understand why, it keeps the ending less predictable for viewers (my partner genuinely didn’t see it coming until the final moments), but I still missed some of the cleverness and details that made him so brilliant in the book.

As for the performances:

Sally Field embodied Tova perfectly. She was everything I imagined while reading. Warm and compassionate, yet sharp around the edges. Witty and sarcastic, while slightly despondent underneath. Her chemistry with Cameron felt incredibly natural and genuine, particularly during the scene after music night when she finally opens up to him. And those final moments with Marcellus? Absolutely heartbreaking in the best possible way. She delivered on every level.

Lewis Pullman’s portrayal of Cameron felt slightly different from the novel’s version, though that may come down to my interpretation. Book Cameron always struck me as somewhat naïve and aimless, which naturally led him into many of the situations he found himself in. Film Cameron, on the other hand, came across more stand-offish and stubborn, borderline rude in a few moments. That said, I still thought Pullman gave a strong performance, it just felt an interesting choice to play on his personality differently.

I also wish we’d seen more of Ethan. The film doesn’t fully establish how much he cares for Tova until he asks her out, which made the moment feel less-than important. Without weaving his adoration into the earlier scenes, I can imagine some viewers interpreting it as a pity invite rather than genuine affection, which is a shame because their relationship carried so much warmth in the book.

And finally, Marcellus: absolutely no notes. Alfred Molina’s voice performance was perfect, it almost carried a David Attenborough-like quality, with authority, intelligence, and kindness all at once. Visually, Marcellus was stunning too. The CGI felt really believable, which made his scenes all the more emotionally effective.

Ultimately, the success of this adaptation comes down to how it makes you feel. By the end, both my partner and I were in tears, and we agreed it was a success not only as a book adaptation, but as a genuinely moving film in its own right. My partner even gave it a 4.5 on Letterboxd, high praise and considering he’s an incredibly tough critic. Hats off to Netflix, Shelby Van Pelt, and everyone involved.

I can finally breathe again knowing this incredible book has been given the adaptation it deserves.

Have you watched the movie yet? Let me know your thoughts, I’d love to hear them.

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I know how long writing takes. A 600-word review alone can take up hours of my life, so I get that a full-length novel isn’t something that happens overnight.

Still… I think the industry might be taking too long.

Let me set the scene.

I recently finished a new fantasy recommendation, Daggermouth. Described as a dystopian fantasy romance, it follows an assassin from the outer-ring Daggermouth community and her arranged marriage with the one person she despises, the Executioner from the elite centre ring, the Heart.

I’m not here to review it, but I genuinely enjoyed it way more than I expected. The story was intricate, packed with politics and drama, and chapters jumping between multiple POVs. It had strong Sarah J. Maas vibes.

The ending? Absolutely nail-biting until we hit the final cliffhanger conclusion. So you can imagine my devastation when I realized the next book in the series won’t arrive until March 30, 2027.

MARCH 2027?!

This isn’t the first time I’ve been burned like this, but it got me thinking. Shouldn’t authors be releasing books more quickly?

The Marketing Of It All

I’m no publishing expert, but I do work in marketing at a high level, and my instinct says that quicker releases probably help to boost sales across the board. Marketing, at a very basic level follows a funnel: Awareness → Consideration → Conversion → Loyalty.

Applying that here, you need to get readers aware of the book, then get them to consider the book, then convert them to reading it, and finally, build loyalty so they keep coming back.

If an author has successfully moved someone through the funnel, the hardest part is done. To then stall that momentum at the very end, losing that reader just when they are engaged, feels like a sin.

Loyalty, is built on two things. 1. Connection, 2. hunger. In marketing terms, are people connected to the brand, and are they eager for more? That’s what drives more purchases.

For me, if I feel connected to an author and I’m hungry for the next instalment, I’ll stick around and continue reading. But if that hunger is blocked by a year-long wait, and it’s my first experience with the author? I doubt I will remember, let alone care.

Yes, There Are Exceptions

I can imagine those opposed to this argument may point to established heavyweights (like Yarros, Maas, Patterson, Henry), arguing that they’ll always have demand no matter the timing. But honestly, I include them in my critique.

Take Sarah J. Maas as an example. When I read A Court of Thorns and Roses back in 2022, it became a personality trait. I’ve reread it multiple times since, and as the cultural hype built, I was at the centre, recommending it to just about everyone I knew.

So when she announced the next instalments on the Call Her Daddy podcast, it made sense, aligning and acknowledging her presence in popular culture.

But part of me feels she’s a year too late.

Had she released these next instalments sooner, she could have capitalized on the peak of the hype. Not only maximising interest in the new releases, but likely driving massive sales for her back catalog due to fear of missing out. Now, her new releases feel like they’re mostly for the existing fanbase, rather than likely to pull in fresh readers. The moment has passed.

To continue that thought, not all of those previous readers are die-hards like you and me. Many will have picked up Acotar to be part of the hype, but aren’t regular readers. So will they return after so long? Probably not.

So, When Should They Be Releasing?

I get it. The publishing industry is a well-oiled machine, and as a new author, you need to prove yourself with one book before you can release more. That takes time.

I don’t know enough (yet) about the industry to fully understand what slows down releases, is it the publishing houses, or the author’s writing pace? If you have a perspective on that, I’d love to hear it.

But from a reader’s standpoint, momentum is everything. It’s crucial for both our enjoyment and for an author’s ability to capitalize on their work. In an ideal world, the debut novel and its sequel would be ready to devour back-to-back. Realistically though, thats probably out of reach so the sweet spot is for both books to arrive within the same year.

Is there a case for the opposite approach, stretching releases to build hype? Sure, look at The Devil Wears Prada or Gladiator et al, as long-awaited sequels that have become cultural events. Personally, though? That’s not for me.

The takeaway: please, let’s release faster. Books, TV series, movies. Our consumption is only getting faster, so the media industry needs to keep up.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Drop them in the comments—let’s have the conversation, and who knows? Maybe it’ll spark some action.

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Confession: I haven’t read these popular books. Does that make me a terrible book blogger? Hopefully not. I promise there are reasons.

If you’ve read any of them, I genuinely want to hear your thoughts. Convince me to give them a go or please validate my continued avoidance.

A Little Life

This one has definitely intrigued me. I can’t tell you how many early mornings on the London tube I spotted someone (probably pretending) to read it. However it terrifies me.

Not just because the sheer size means it could double as a doorstop, but because of the way it has been described by other readers. Every description or review I come across includes words like heartbreaking, devastating etc etc, and after a run of novels featuring damaged protagonists and melancholy, I think I’ve accepted they’re just not for me.

And the fact that this one is so polarising? That’s probably all the more reason to continue avoiding.

Cleopatra and Frankenstein

This one actually lives on my bookshelf which probably makes it worse I haven’t read it.

Truth is, I simply haven’t felt drawn to it. The whole sad but messy narrative doesn’t seem to be connecting with me at the moment. I’m also finding it harder to engage with characters who are flawed, just as much as they are ‘interesting’.

It’s not that I won’t ever read it. It’s just that every time I glance at it, I seem to instead seem to choose something lighter and easier to read.

The Housemaid

I haven’t read The Housemaid. In fact, I haven’t read anything by Frieda McFadden which makes me feel like I’ve missed something everyone, even ‘non-readers’ have seemingly given her a go.

But the truth is I’m just not a thriller lover.

I’ve always believe you should read books that mirror the kind of TV and films you consume. And I don’t typically enjoy thrillers or action on screen, so I’m not convinced I’d suddenly love them in bookform.

With the film adaptation now out, I’m even more inclined to give up 90 minutes of watch-time rather than days worth of reading. Sorry Housemaid.

The Secret History

Slightly embarrassingly, I don’t even fully know what this is about. Which probably explains why I’m yet to read (or want to read).

I get the impression that this is a book you need to be in the right mood for, expecting it to be slightly heavier rather than a quick, breezy read.

That said, I do suspect I could be persuaded.

Wuthering Heights

With the latest adaptation dominating popular culture, it feels like the classics are having their moment back in the mainstream. And yet, I’ve still never read Wuthering Heights.

I know the characters. I know the basic plot (albeit my initial foundation of knowledge was the Kate Bush song.) But that might be why I have never felt like I want to pick it up, I feel like I already know it.

Perhaps when I watch the film I will want to read the full novel. I’ll report back.

So that was it, my slightly shameful list of books I haven’t read.

Would love to hear from you if any of these are on your avoidance lists or if you think I should give them a go!

Are Books Becoming Boring?

I’ve been trying to pen this post for weeks, editing and re-editing the same draft trying to pin down my feelings that I can’t quite articulate.

I’m still not convinced I’ve nailed it, but what this ultimately comes down to is a conversation of style over substance.

If that interests you, keep reading!

A Departure From My Usual

I acknowledge this is a bit of a shift from my typical book reviews and recommendations. But I’ve been increasingly vocal, (borderline repetitive) in some of my recent posts about a wave of contemporary/literary fiction that just hasn’t hit.

I’ve labeled many of these as “sad-girl novels”, but I think this issue extends beyond that.

It’s not about just sad stories being boring. Moreso an epidemic of story stagnation overall.

When Nothing Happens:

More and more books I pick up seem to be the same:

• Long, drawn out plots

• Inner monologues stretched across hundreds of pages

• Semantics and over-detail

These aren’t bad books which is the problem. They play with beautiful language and explore meaningful themes, yet by the end I always find myself asking … “what actually happened?”

I close the book with dissatisfaction, being promised a journey and instead we just walked in a straight line.

Is It Just Me?

I keep questioning if this is a matter of taste, and if subjectively I just prefer the action of fantasy, or the momentum of fast-paced storytelling.

But I don’t think that’s entirely it. Because what I’m craving isn’t action, (I actually don’t love action/thrillers), I’m craving enjoyment.

I’m not asking for explosions or plot twists. But the plot does need something to keep me reading. I’m increasingly choosing to DNF books, and when I do keep going, they aren’t giving me that feeling of craving a spare 10 mins to be able to fit in a chapter.

For me, a story should have an ascent and descent. It should ebb and flow so there are moments to keep us engaged throughout. Without, the whole story just falls flat.

The “Oscar-Bait” Problem

I draw comparison to the film industry and the long-standing debate of “Oscar-bait” movies. AKA films that are technically and visually impressive, making them critically adored but when us, the consumer, go to watch they are quite frankly boring. Nothing more than style over substance.

That’s increasingly how some of these novels feel.

Recently, I watched ‘If I Had Legs I’d Kick You’, an Academy-nominated film and it struck me because it embodies exactly what I feel is missing in these books.

From beginning to end, the story continued in a straight line. I was expecting a turning point or grand reveal that didn’t come.

It’s praised for it’s theme and deep messaging, but what is the point if the viewers primary takeaway is ‘well that was boring’.

When it finished, you’re left with “was that it?”

For me, that’s the core issue I’m finding with these books.

So What Are We Valuing?

This is where I get stuck and why I’ve found it so difficult to articulate my thoughts.

Because I don’t want to dismiss these type of books outright. They must be doing something right to engage literary agents and hit the charts. And I suspect many others love and enjoy them.

But I do wonder if we have started to overvalue theming vs story. And are we mistaking plot minimalism for emotional depth?

In doing so, are we just creating boring stories.

I’m Still Figuring It Out

I don’t have a clean conclusion here and would be surprised if people have continued reading to this point.

So I’ll leave you with this:

• Are books becoming boring?

• If a book is boring, can it still be good?

• And are authors playing it safe?

I’d love to know your thoughts in the comments!

I’m not sure this is going to be a fully formed piece so much as a brain dump. But it’s been on my mind, and I want to get it out.

I’ve read a lot recently about BookTok, used loosely here to mean all social-media-driven book culture.

Is it encouraging overconsumption?
Is it pushing low-quality books to the top of the charts?
Is it the death of modern literature as we know it?

I’ve contributed to this conversation myself. In my piece “What I’d Like to See From Romance”, I even called for a kind of BookTok reckoning.

But the more I think about it, the more I think these takes are only scratching the surface of something deeper and more uncomfortable.

Behind the scenes, I believe gatekeeping is growing. Not just because of BookTok, but because of a strange, simmering us vs. them resentment within reading culture more broadly.

And, unfortunately, I’ve realised I’m part of the problem.

So this piece is me owning up to the ways I’ve been gatekeeping reading, sometimes without even realising it, and why I think I (we) need to stop.

Oh, you’re not a real reader

I work in a corporate role (marketing), which means a lot of introductions, icebreakers, and bio-sharing. For a long time, I used to freeze when asked what I did outside of work because everyone else had sports, hobbies, or side hustles.

In the past year, I’ve finally started saying the honest answer, “I read. A lot.”

This usually opens the door to someone saying, “Oh my god, me too.” But when I ask what they’re reading, or what they’ve loved recently, the answers tend to land in the usual popular BookTok staples.

And then… the conversation kind of ends.

I didn’t take them seriously, or worse, I mentally dismissed them. Oh, they’re not really a reader. I put myself on a completely imaginary pedestal and decided never to talk books with them again.

The issue with that?

• I have no idea how much of their free time they spend reading.

• The books someone chooses doesn’t indicate their dedication, curiosity, or love for reading.

• I deliberately opted out of connecting with other readers for absolutely no reason.

As an introvert, that one stung to realise.

You’ve only read 20 books this year?

Reading goals have become a huge marker of legitimacy in online reading spaces. Especially recently with it being the start of the year, when social feeds fill with numbers. “How many books you read last year, how many you plan to read this year.”

Having a reading goal is inherently good. I love mine and it definitely motivates me.

But somewhere along the way, reading goals became social capital.

More books = better reader.

And that mindset doesn’t just elevate some people, it diminishes others.

There is no required number of books you must read to “count” as a reader. Okay, maybe 1 would be a good start.

But we need to stop gatekeeping based on quantity.

And while we’re at it, we need to stop turning reading into a competition.

You only read romance?

Romance is the genre that brought me back to reading. It reignited my love for books entirely.

And yet somehow I took on the idea that reading only romance makes you less of a reader.

I think some of this ties back to what I wrote about in “What I’d Like to See From Romance.” The genre has suffered from over-saturation and an influx of low-quality, rushed titles. But that doesn’t mean romance readers and those who enjoy those books are inferior to people reading literary fiction, classics, or anything else.

Enjoying one genre is not a flaw, nor is it intellectual laziness. It’s just preference.

Yeah, audiobooks aren’t my thing

I don’t listen to audiobooks. That’s just my personal consumption taste.

So why have I always treated listening as somehow “less than” reading?

We’re meeting the same characters.
We’re experiencing the same world.
We’re arriving at the same ending.

And yet this is one bias I’ve found surprisingly hard to shake which probably says more about me than audiobooks.

So… what do we need to do instead?

Honestly? The first step is painfully simple. Stay in our own lanes and actively unlearn judgement.

Next encourage people to read. Because reading matters.

For yourself? Read deeply, and reflect.

Then don’t be afraid to share often. Share your recommendations, reviews and feelings.

Start to be unapologetic and public about loving books.

Support local bookshops and libraries.

Whilst also reading indie.

And maybe most importantly, let people enjoy reading in the way that works for them.

Because the more ways people find their way to books, the better off we all will be.

I’ve said it before, but Emily Henry is a no-questions-asked author for me. So, as you can imagine, I was incredibly excited for the first adaptation of her work, especially with the hype and build-up surrounding the January 9th Netflix release of People We Meet on Vacation.

That excitement, however, also came with a heavy dose of expectation and protectiveness. Today, I’m sharing my thoughts and feelings on whether the film actually lived up to the hype.

FYI: This review may contain spoilers.

Casting & Characters

Let’s start with the strongest part of this adaptation: the casting.

From the moment it was announced, Emily Bader and Tom Blyth generated a lot of excitement among fans, and rightly so. Many fans, (myself included), felt they perfectly embodied how we imagined Poppy and Alex. Thankfully, that embodiment went far beyond appearances.

Emily Bader captures Poppy’s free-spirited, extroverted, and magnetic energy beautifully. Her performance feels natural and believable, her styling is spot-on (I have wardrobe envy), and she brings a warmth to the role that mirrors the book’s version of Poppy effortlessly.

Tom Blyth also plays Alex true to character. He is quiet but immediately reads as kind. There is a clear introversion but he is still up for a good time - something I relate to. There is nothing worse than assuming someone is boring because they are quiet.

Simply put, the casting works.

However, through no fault of the actors, the characters themselves feel like they’re missing a layer of depth due to the removal of crucial backstory, particularly Alex’s.

In the book, Alex’s personality is deeply shaped by his past: losing his mother young, stepping into a parental role for his 3 brothers, and growing up fast while his father struggled. This history explains his sensibility, maturity, and emotional restraint.

Without that context in the film, Alex’s character risks being interpreted as flatness rather than the result of lived experience. And this missing history also weakens the connective tissue between Alex, his brother, Poppy, and the wedding. The strength of that relationship doesn’t fully translate on screen, and the brotherly bond is barely present, making it unclear how Poppy knows him so well when he seems largely absent from Alex’s life. It caused me to see the scenes where his brother & father do appear as filler scenes, versus adding tenderness and rounding out Alex’s character beyond who he is with Poppy.

By contrast, Poppy’s history is acknowledged, most effectively in the motel scene. Her discussion of being bullied in Linfield and wanting to escape adds valuable insight into her motivations. We understand that travel is her way of removing preconceptions people have of her, and giving space to reinvent herself. If even a fraction of Alex’s backstory had been woven into this scene, it could have deepened our understanding of both characters significantly.

Narrative

Narrative changes are the most prominent and most criticized aspect of this adaptation. Unfortunately, I agree with much of that criticism.

Of course, changes are inevitable when adapting a novel into a feature-length film. But when those changes begin to erode our understanding of the characters, the framing, or the emotional logic of the plot, it becomes a slight problem.

For me, this was compounded by how deeply I love the book. Perhaps that worked against me, but I often found myself mentally filling in the gaps and longing for the moments that were left out. RIP bar flirtation & tinder scenes.

Take the carpool scene, for example; our first time seeing Poppy and Alex together. In the film, it’s unclear whether they know each other beforehand, which makes Poppy’s behaviour in the car feel oddly inconsiderate and, frankly, a bit unlikeable. When they then become close friends almost immediately (a result of the film’s pacing), it leaves you wondering why.

In the book, their early connection is far more organic. They meet during orientation week, discover they’re from the same town, and later reconnect at the end of the school year to carpool home. That groundwork makes their friendship and its evolution more sensical.

The biggest narrative shift, however, is the wedding location: Barcelona instead of Palm Springs.

Surface level, switching locations is fine.

What left me with questions is why the consequent narrative had to change as a result.

In the book, Poppy orchestrates the trip, hoping to repair her fractured friendship with Alex. When he is only free during the week of his brothers wedding and her company won’t approve the trip as work-related, she plans it herself on a tight budget in an effort to see him. This leads to the infamous sweltering, barely habitable apartment, setting us up for forced proximity and a series of small daily excursions that rebuild their connection piece by piece.

In the film however, Poppy is invited to the wedding independently, with Alex already aware and knowing they will see each other. While the uncomfortable apartment still exists (albeit less motel, more airbnb), they aren’t staying together, and those small bonding trips are cut from the plot entirely. As a result, when the emotional and physical declarations finally happen on the balcony, they lack the intensity and tension of the book. The need to declare their feelings in that moment doesn’t feel built, it just sort of happens.

Framing

As I watched, I kept returning to the feeling that certain moments weren’t fully earned, and whilst I still can’t completely put my finger on why I think it comes down to both the narrative changes & the overall framing.

Because the film focuses almost exclusively on Poppy and Alex together, we lose much of the meaning behind their once-a-year trips. In the book, those vacations matter precisely because we understand their lives outside of them.

The present day trip is a big factor in this, as the narrative changes eliminate Poppy’s motivation for the trip (aka wanting to salvage her friendship). We end up losing the feelings of frustration around the trip not being how she hoped, and the fear that she could lose Alex altogether - something the book conveys so beautifully through inner monologue. When those declarations do then happen at that moment on the balcony, we understand exactly why they need to happen.

Similarly, because we don’t see much of their separate lives, the annual trips lose some of their significance as sacred time they carve out for each other. Moments that should sting, like Poppy being too ill for the Norway trip, or partners joining the vacations, don’t quite land with the same emotional weight.

Julian’s appearance in New Orleans hints at this tension, particularly with Alex’s quiet disappointment as Poppy is pulled away. But this dynamic is largely lost when Trey and Sarah appear during the Tuscany trip. In fact, that whole trips portrayal loses all of it’s tension, as we don’t get to the see significance of Sarah in Alex’s life, or of the impact of Poppy’s near-miss pregnancy on Alex.

The frequent timeline jumps also suffer from the film’s rushed pacing. At one point, I had to explain the premise to my partner mid-watch before he finally had the classic “ahhh” moment, realizing we were flashing back to previous summers versus present day.

If you’ve seen the limited series adaptation of One Day, it’s a great example of how time jumps can be handled with clarity and emotional payoff. That format would have suited People We Meet on Vacation far better.

Conclusion

The vibes were there.
The humour was there.
The characters we love were there.

But some of the book’s magic was lost.

What makes Emily Henry’s writing so special is its depth. The nuance of her characters, the emotional layering, the way she crafts environments and small moments to carry much meaning.

Capturing all of that on screen in under two hours is no small feat and perhaps attempting it at all was the movies achilles heel.

While I enjoyed seeing one of my favourite books brought to life, the final result felt slightly flatter than I had hoped. That may well be a consequence of my expectations and familiarity with the source material but I expect others may experience the same feelings.

Still, I’d recommend giving it a watch, and I’d absolutely call it a success as a modern rom-com given they are so few and far between nowadays. Yet I still can’t help but yearn for how much more it could have been. Perhaps a re-read is needed to remind myself of how special this story is!

It’s the genre I credit with accelerating my love of reading, turning me into the bookworm I am today.

But the very success of the genre has also become its greatest detriment.

I’m no publishing expert or industry thought leader, but as a reader, I’ve witnessed an undeniable explosion of romance over the past year. New titles, both indie and traditionally published, seem to launch daily. Romance is dominating the charts, social media, and subscription platforms at an unprecedented scale.

At the same time, there’s a growing dissonance among long-time romance readers (myself included). Many of us are becoming bored, drifting away to explore other genres, only returning for standout releases or trusted, “no-questions-asked” authors. A quick look at yearly Top 25 lists from Bookstagram blogs, Instagram pages, or TikTok accounts shows this shift clearly.

I think this fatigue is stemming from a few key issues.

First, the market is oversaturated. “Choice overload” is a psychological concept that feels particularly relevant here: there are simply too many romance novels. Faced with endless options, readers are experiencing analysis paralysis - aka freezing, overwhelmed, and often choosing none of the options at all.

This abundance also raises expectations. When you invest time into one, two, or three romance novels that ultimately fall flat, the disappointment lingers. I’ve experienced genuine book regret, wishing I’d spent that time elsewhere and over time, this leads to disengagement from the genre as a whole, driven by the fear of another underwhelming read.

And perhaps most frustratingly, most of these books are starting to feel all the same. One scroll through Kindle Unlimited reveals similar cover designs, different author names, and near-identical stories beneath. The same tropes, the same plot beats, and sometimes even the same character names repeat again and again. Familiarity has crossed into monotony.

That said, romance isn’t dead to me. There are still standout novels that remind me why I fell in love with the genre in the first place and they do and will keep me coming back.

With that in mind, here’s what I’d love to see from romance in the coming year.

Exciting, Story-First Narratives

I’m bored of tropes, and I’ll shout it from the rooftops.

I want to see more authors prioritize storytelling; crafting layered, compelling plots with deeply understood characters and a genuine sense of unpredictability. Authors don’t need to reinvent the whole wheel or become wildly outlandish, but they do need to offer more than the familiar formula of “meet cute, third-act breakup, tidy epilogue.”

Authors like Taylor Jenkins Reid have shown how effective this can be, and more recently, Seven Days in June delivered me a romance that felt rich, grounded, and purposeful. Romance should enhance the world and deepen the emotional stakes, not exist as the only plot holding the book together.

Genre Blending That Pushes Boundaries

As readers drift away from traditional romance, many have turned to romantasy as an entry-level switch; a blend of yearning love stories and high-stakes, action-driven plots satisfying what readers were missing with pure romance.

However, I expect romantasy to follow the same oversaturation trajectory in the coming year. To avoid repeating history, I’d love to see authors push genre blending even further: sci-fi romance, paranormal romance, thriller-romance hybrids, or romance grounded in richly researched historical settings. Unique concepts and fresh structures are what will keep readers engaged.

Increased Representation

Whilst I love a Pretty Girl x Sport Romance as much as the next girl, I’d love to see more representation in romance novels going forward.

This is not just from the authors, but the publishing houses as these great stories exist, they just need to be championed (Shamoyas Romance Reads is a favourite for spotlighting black stories in particular).

But its not just representing more ethnicities, I want to see more size inclusion, more rich cultural embedment, more disabilities existing, more gender & sexual identities being explored authentically. As audiences we want to connect and giving us characters that reflect not only ourselves but those who exist around us in the world, will give us a chance to do that.

A BookTok Reckoning

Reading (and writing) has increasingly been undermined in favour of aesthetic, uncomplicated, mass-consumer content. BookTok began as an incredible platform for indie authors to find audiences and gain visibility, but it has slowly transformed into a marketing label. Stories are regurgitated, and rewarded not for depth or originality, but for their algorithmic appeal to consumers.

The challenge is that popularity requires appealing to the masses, and the uncomfortable truth is that the masses don’t read. As a result, many “BookTok books” are becoming easier, shallower, and less challenging. Authors, particularly in romance, appear hesitant to explore complex ideas or take creative risks.

Lucia’s article The Failings of the Modern Reader explores this far more eloquently than I can, but her conclusion resonates deeply:

It feels like, in an oxymoron worthy of George Orwell’s 1984, people are reading more yet learning less.

And perhaps that’s the crossroads romance and reading culture as a whole, now finds itself at.

If you’re feeling as equally as disengaged with romance, I’d love to hear your thoughts or if you have any romance recommendations which will bring my love back to life, please do share!

As you can imagine after 1,030 pages, I have a lot of thoughts about Alchemised. And truth be told I’m conflicted, as it seems are many other readers, judging by the wildly opposing reviews.

For that reason, I’m going to break this review into distinct sections, giving thoughts and ratings to each element.

Bear with me, it will be long and will include spoilers but as always, I would love to hear other people’s opinions, for this novel more than ever.

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The Story - 3/5

Overall, I did enjoy the story. While it doesn’t break the mold of a typical standalone fantasy (girl is swept into war, meets a dark and mysterious MMC, wants to protect her friends, slow-burn romance, a handful of battles, epilogue), it was intriguing enough to keep me turning the pages despite the sheer length.

SenLinYu builds an expansive and intricate fictional world, supported by a complex magic system that blends science (metallurgy), magic (vivimancy), and political ideology (necromancy). On paper, this blend feels genuinely original for a fantasy.

However, that intricacy started to tip into style over substance very quickly. Much of the book devolved into “word soup”: dense descriptions and term-heavy dialogue that bounced between an overwhelming number of powers and abilities. Just as I began to grasp a few concepts, more were introduced - ‘Lumithium’ ‘Mithridatism’ ‘Array’ to name but a few that I still can’t clearly define.

As this continued, it became increasingly difficult to stay emotionally invested in the characters and the story. I often had no idea what they were trying to accomplish, how they planned to do it, or, frankly, what had just happened. The complexity of the system distanced me from understanding their motivations and choices, something I rely on as a comfort-reader and general fan of predictability.

There was also so much happening within the magic system that it felt even SenLinYu struggled to maintain and understand the rules. Several contradictions emerged throughout, creating noticeable plot holes and underexplored concepts.

Plot Issues

• Vivimancy, Helena’s ability to heal from within is positioned as the moral opposite of necromancy. Yet rather than being revered, it is more heavily shunned than its “evil” counterpart, which feels counterintuitive and insufficiently explained.

• Vivimancy is also repeatedly conveyed as rare, but then multiple side characters (such as Lila) casually reveal they possess it, only for this to never be explored or mentioned again.

• Helena is framed as one of the most talented and powerful healers alive, yet Kaine, with no formal training can perform vivimancy with equal levels of expert success. We get a slither rationale through supposed practice on his chimeara but it hardly matches the years of ward-experience Helena has built.

• In a scene where Helena is tested for her metallurgy combination (at Kaine’s request), Shisheo identifies her as having a rare dual-metal ability. This discovery is treated as significant, so much so that Kaine forges custom weapons using it, yet Helena’s metal abilities are never meaningfully utilized or discussed again. All in all, the metallurgy theme seemed underutilized and only really relevant to the Ferrons themselves.

• In a world governed by magic and internal healing, why can impregnation only occur through natural conception, leading to a dark, uncomfortable, and ultimately unnecessary plotline - discussed further in my final section.

• We follow a group called the “Resistance,” led by the Holdfasts, who have ruled through divine intervention for generations. If they have held power for so long, shouldn’t they be the existing establishment and the opposing force be the resistance?

• The tanks are what the undying use to preserve bodies. This is no secret and with his level of access as the High-Reeve something Kaine would be familiar of. YET, when searching for Helena he doesn’t check the tanks, instead combing through piles of corpses, labs and mines. Make it make sense?

• In Part 1, Morrough is unfamiliar with Helena in scenes where he is reading her mind. Yet in Part 2, not only do they met but he says to her “If you joined me, your abilities would be valued.” He knows her, he sees the extent of her abilities yet doesn’t remember her once she is captured despite him being the most powerful of the undying?

• Whilst insignificant in comparison, the visual descriptions of characters is also at times inconsistent from hair colour to skin colour, but most of all the Ferron eye plothole. Kaine’s eyes are first described as hazel, only becoming bright silver as a side-effect of the stone that Helena uses to heal him. Why when their child is born does Helena announce “Kaine—she has your eyes,”? Genetically they should be hazel in that case?

Pacing - 2/5

The three-part structure is a distinguishing feature, and I can see the author’s intention clearly. It feels like this was the foundation of the novel’s original plan, that SenLinYu then built the plot around.

Unfortunately, this structure also becomes its Achilles heel for two major reasons.

High Risk of DNF in Part 1

Chronologically, Part 1 takes place after Part 2 but before Part 3. We enter the story with Helena imprisoned in a lab, surrounded by unfamiliar characters, discussing events and concepts we don’t understand. While I now recognize that this disorientation was intentional and meant to mirror Helena’s amnesia, it doesn’t make for an engaging reading experience, especially at 278 pages (almost the length of other full length novels). The confusion felt alienating for me rather than intriguing, and I found myself skimming, probably to my detriment given I still don’t understand half the terms. For this reason I suspect other readers probably have and will DNF quickly.

Uneven and Dragging Structure

When I reached Part 2 at around the 30% mark, I assumed the remaining sections would be evenly paced at ~30% each. Instead, Part 2 consumes more than half of the book, hundreds of pages too long, with minimal meaningful narrative progression until the final hundred pages of the part.

The repetition in Part 2 also quickly becomes exhausting. There are only so many times we can read Helena running between Headquarters and the Outpost, only so many scenes of Kaine switching between kindness and irritation before storming out, and only so many lengthy descriptions of Helena healing one person after another.

By contrast, Part 3 felt more compelling, largely because we finally (almost) understood what was happening. If any section deserved the bulk of the page count, it should have been the conclusion. Instead, we get a rushed ending and an abrupt time span of nearly twenty years within a handful of pages, which felt jarring and unsatisfying.

Characters — 2/5

The characters felt like one of the novel’s biggest weaknesses (likely due to being secondhand retellings of their Harry Potter counterparts). We’re given inconsistent, often ambiguous protagonists, surrounded by a huge supporting cast of side characters who feel either underdeveloped or unnecessary.

Helena & Kaine

Together, their relationship is arguably the strongest element of the book. The slow-burn is well-paced, the emotional progression across Parts 1, 2, and 3 feels believable, and neither character falls into the all-too-common romantasy “worship” dynamic where one exists solely to serve the other. Their connection feels mutual and grounded which I appreciated.

The only lingering question of their relationship for me is why they needed a shared childhood history. Because that backstory is never meaningfully explored so adds little beyond forced familiarity and would arguably have been better left out.

It’s clear that SenLinYu is deeply familiar with romantasy and fanfiction, and she excels at crafting an engaging love story. In many ways, it feels like this is where the novel’s true strength lies and perhaps where the narrative should have been centered, rather than on the overcomplicated magic system and war plot.

Individually, however, neither Helena nor Kaine feels fully realised as their own characters.

Helena’s role as the central protagonist is never convincingly justified. What makes her special, not only to the story but to the Guild’s obsession, is frustratingly unclear. In most fantasy novels, a FMC’s extraordinary qualities are unmistakable and highlighted in both the character and plot. Helena, by comparison, felt oddly lacklustre.

• Yes, she possesses vivimancy, but so do numerous other characters.

• Yes, she can perform necromancy, yet necromancers appear abundant given the saturation of walking corpses throughout the book.

• Yes, she has animancy, but the Guild already employs others with that ability.

The Guild doesn’t seem to need her, and the Eternal Flame doesn’t seem to want her. Neither side fully understands or respects her abilities, so why should the reader see her as uniquely important?

Her moral reasoning also doesn’t quite hold together. When Helena begins questioning the Eternal Flame’s faith and ethics, it feels like the story is building toward something bold and juicy, a potential Helena/Kaine breakaway or vigilante arc. Instead, those doubts are undercut when she chooses to stay and remains willing to die for their cause. Why? She has no family ties, no deep-rooted faith, and no meaningful history as an immigrant that is binding her there. Even her so-called friends rarely treat her as an equal. The stakes for her loyalty never feel earned or clear.

Kaine

Kaine, despite having a broader backstory, suffers from similar issues. His motivations toward both the Guild and the Eternal Flame remain frustratingly opaque & amibigous. For much of the novel, he felt like a character sitting on the fence, waiting to see which side will win before fully committing.

His grief-driven explanation for becoming a spy initially reads as a placeholder, I thought it was the ‘fake reason’ he gave Helena and something would later be revealed as a deeper, more compelling truth. That revelation never comes.

Because the narrative remains tightly tethered to Helena’s perspective while Kaine undertakes Guild missions off-page, we never truly feel the danger of his double life or see the weight of his betrayal. His treachery lacks tension because we are rarely allowed to witness it and in turn I didn’t quite care if he got found out or not. Perhaps it would have been more interesting if he had been caught.

Luc & Lila

Luc and Lila are among the more prominent side characters, yet both feel underdeveloped. Like many of the supporting cast, they are named without being given sufficient personality or purpose.

Luc is repeatedly described as Helena’s best friend, but we’re never shown meaningful moments that establish this bond, we’re simply told it exists. Likewise, as the latest in the Holdfast line, he should be immensely powerful and a central leader within the Resistance, instead, he comes across as little more than a handsome foot soldier. Even now reading and researching about the the novel, there’s remarkably little dialogue or detail from anyone explaining why Luc or the Holdfasts are meant to be so significant.

Lila suffers from similar issues. We’re told there is a deep connection between her and Helena, one that fuels Helena’s guilt-driven protectiveness, but the foundation of that bond is never established. If anything, Lila reinforces Helena’s outsider status whilst both are at headquarters, only seeking her out when she needs something (aka healing), or more cynically, once everyone else is already dead.

Lila’s sustained disdain for Kaine throughout Part 3 was particularly baffling to me. Kaine saves her, ensures her and her child’s safety, and continues to provide for them both during and after her separation from Helena. Yet her hostility persists without a clear rationale, veering uncomfortably close to jealousy when she pressures Helena to leave him during the rushed finale.

The epilogue only compounds these issues. Lila kills Morrough and is positioned as a saviour (despite relying on Helena’s efforts to build the bomb), she then honours the history of the Resistance (excluding Helena?) and leaves behind a trail of unresolved questions and contradictions.

Rather than dissect every remaining side character individually, Stroud, Crowther, Morrough, Shinseo, Ilva, Soren, Atreus, it’s easier to summarise them together as under explored, mostly unnecessary, and unclear.

The “Darkness” 1/5

Finally, I want to address the darkness that is meant to define this novel and justify its extensive trigger warnings.

The war and necromancy, despite their grim premise, rarely felt genuinely horrific. The tone leaned far more toward fantasy retellings of warfare than horror, but even then the scarcity of any actual war scenes made it not very gruesome or dark at all. Helena is only trusted on the front lines once, with the other only depiction of action being a self-directed mission that barely comes to fruition.

Similarly, necromancy while initially unsettling never really evolves into anything that felt truly sinister. The “thralls” often read less like abominations or terror-inducing, but more like pets serving the Undying.

The true darkness of the novel instead comes from its depiction of rape, which feels not only unnecessary but structurally flawed. Rather than serving as a raw or meaningful exploration of assault, it functions as a random plot device riddled with inconsistencies.

As aforementioned, with a world overflowing with magic and power, why is impregnation only possible through natural conception?

Additionally:

1. These events take place in the Manor bedroom where Helena is, a space Kaine explicitly describes as safe and unseen by others. Why, then, does he need to commit the act at all? Why not claim infertility or unsuccessful attempts, to appease Stroud or Morrough?

2. Kaine also repeatedly leverages his status to shut down Stroud in other situations. Why does he suddenly lose that here?

This subplot adds nothing beyond setting up the epilogue and even then, everything in the rushed epilogue could have been achieved without Enid. Its inclusion feels uncomfortable rather than purposeful.

Overall

Despite how negative this review may read, my primary takeaway is that Alchemised suffers from a lack of rigorous editing. I haven’t read Manacled, but based on other reviews, it appears to be both the novel’s foundation and its curse.

Had Alchemised been further adapted, allowing the characters to fully separate from their fanfiction origins and develop their own clear motivations and identities, I believe it could have been genuinely successful. The story is definitely there. I enjoyed SenLinYu’s intention and where the plot went. However as it stands, the book reads like an early draft that needed further refinement and focus, than a novel worthy of hype or star ratings.

I also heard this novel repeatedly described as “devastating” and “heartbreaking,” which may have shaped my expectations going into the read and then coming out the other end. Unfortunately, I didn’t experience the same emotional impact, leaving the ending feeling flatter than what was promised.

If Alchemised is for anyone it is probably for Fantasy/Romantasy fans but I can’t say that I would be the one recommending it over other standouts in the genre.

I read The Great Alone back in November.

It was my first Kristen Hannah novel and I can say with some confidence that it won’t be my last.

It wasn’t my usual kind of read.

I’m a chronic comfort reader, always circling back to familiar genres and tropes I know will speak to me. There’s safety in knowing how a story will make you feel but after seeing The Great Alone reviewed and recommended again and again, I finally bit the bullet and I’m so glad I did.

I’ve always believed that we meet books where we are.

The same story can land differently to different readers, depending on what’s happening in your life.

For me, as someone who has recently uprooted everything (albeit to Canada rather than Alaska), the part of the novel that resonated most with me wasn’t the love story or themes of grief, it was the feelings & experience of moving somewhere new. Kristen Hannah captured that feeling with such accuracy that I have thought about it ever since.

Your problems don’t disappear when you move

One of the things The Great Alone does so well is balance hope with reality. At the beginning of the novel, Ernt and Cora are brimming with optimism, the kind that often accompanies a big move. That grass-is-greener attitude that this place will fix everything is something easily recognizable in many immigrants and new movers.

Social media often reinforces the idea that life on the other side is fuller, freer, better. But the truth, one I’ve learned firsthand, is that your problems and emotions don’t stay behind, they come with you.

Kristen Hannah explores this gently but authentically. There’s no heavy-handed moralizing of it, just the quiet understanding that geography doesn’t erase pain:

“I need this, Cora. I need a place where I can breathe again. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. Up there, the flashbacks and shit will stop, I know it. We need this. We can go back to the way things were before ‘Nam screwed me up.”

New communities embracing you

Another thing I loved about this novel was the community Hannah builds around her central characters. Each additional person feels layered, warm, and has a shared sense of survival and care.

Living in a small Canadian town for the past year, with zero connections when I first arrived I can say this rang true. The kindness of strangers, the way people show up for one another, the inclusivity of small communities, it has all been real and reading those same experiences in novel reminded me of that truth and brought it back into sharper focus.

People, on the whole, are far kinder & more inclusive than popular media would have us believe!

How time makes you take nature for granted

When I first moved to Canada, every day felt like an awe day. I’d stare out the window in disbelief. The mountains, the lake, the sheer vastness it all felt exciting like a constant novelty.

A year on, I’ve noticed that awe has softened. Not gone, just quieter and replaced with regularity. Reading about Leni’s evolving relationship with Alaska, how her wonder slowly gives way to familiarity was strangely comforting. It felt honest, and human.

“She had lain awake long past midnight, reading about the vast landscape of Alaska. It had captivated her in an unexpected way.”

Overall The Great Alone has such depth through characters, theming and plot that I believe each reader can enjoy and take something from it.

Sometimes, the books that stay with us aren’t the ones we expected to love, but the ones that meet us exactly where we are!

I’ve spent a long time confusing fear with embarrassment. Holding back the things I care about, simply to avoid that familiar unease: what will people think?

Reading, meanwhile, has always been present. A daily ritual and a way to step away from corporate noise, to close my mind of small anxieties and to be alone. It’s the one constant in my life that brings me genuine calm and happiness, and yet, for years, it’s lived in a small, private corner, kept mostly to myself.

So why now?

As 2026 approaches, I’m letting go of a job that once felt safe but no longer feels right. I’m trying (imperfectly) to abandon the grass-is-greener mindset and be more present. And more than anything, I’m carving out small pockets of time to do things that feel like me.

Which brings me here.

Step one: Start a Substack.

Whether this becomes a place where I write quietly to myself, or a small community for people who love discovering new books, this is an attempt to honour what already brings me happiness and hopefully allow a new avenue of joy.

“I am always half in life, half in a fantastical version of it in my head.”
― Dolly Alderton, Everything I Know About Love