justgeekingby's reviews
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In this historical fantasy novel, the supernatural exists alongside the normal world, with the Paranormal Society overseeing various aspects of the supernatural community. It’s a place where necromancer Dr. Oliver Barlow has found a home and a use for his talents, medical and magical. As the medical examiner, he can use his powers under the radar without anyone knowing and get the peace he needs because no one ever wants to spend much time in the morgue.

Everything has been going just fine until Oliver becomes involved in a case with investigator Felipe Galvan. Not only has he been harbouring a secret crush on Galvan for two years, but things get even more complicated when he finds Felipe dead, and he accidentally brings him back to life.

I was instantly drawn by the plot, and I adored every single moment of The Reanimator’s Heart by Kara Jorgensen. Jorgensen has created a fascinating universe that has a lot of room for growth. What I particularly liked about their world-building was how they have taken real history and rather than change it, they’ve inserted a supernatural society alongside it which is queer normative. By doing so, historical elements remain in context while allowing Jorgensen to explore queer relationships openly.

Other than the obvious M/M relationship, there is a brilliant F/F relationship and a non-binary character, as well as lots of found family to be had. There is BIPOC representation with two main characters, Felipe and Gwen, and multiple secondary characters. Both male main characters are neurodivergent, Oliver is autistic and Felipe has ADHD, and the representation is excellent. Jorgensen writes so much feeling into every scene, and I felt every bit of it.

With an array of delightful characters and an intriguing plot, this is a must-read for anyone who is a fan of historical fantasy. I’m also a fan of Victorian and Edwardian mysteries and supernatural stories, and this hit the right spot for me. I think that fans of George Mann’s Newbury and Hobbes series will enjoy this one too, as it has a similar mix of mystery and supernatural.

There have been multiple books about autism and others about chronic illnesses, but until now there wasn’t one that talked about both and what it is like to live with them. All Tangled Up in Autism and Chronic Illness by Charli Clement takes into consideration that there are many people who have both autism and chronic illnesses. Talking from their own experience, and incorporating the experiences of people they have interviewed, Clement has built a valuable resource.

The topics, listed as chapters, are:

    Navigating diagnosis and healthcare

    Everyday life

    Sensory needs

    Pacing and routines

    Education and employment

    Personal relationships

    Experiencing ableism

    Gender, medical misogyny and menstrual health

    Disability pride and disability joy

I found this book to be instrumental in helping me learn more about myself. Any doubts I had about my autistic identity were banished by the time I had finished it. I’m currently on a long waiting list for a formal assessment and have had to piece together information as I go along. It was great to finally have someone explain things like interoception, proprioception and the vestibular system in terms that relate to my chronic illnesses as well.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who is autistic and chronically ill, but also to anyone who has not been diagnosed or self-diagnosed as autistic. There are a lot of overlaps with chronic illnesses, and many people have been overlooked and/or misdiagnosed due to medical bias. This is something that Clement discusses, and All Tangled Up in Autism and Chronic Illness may help you learn something new about yourself.

The S.S. SpoonZ is a scientific research vessel with a difference; it is crewed by people who are disabled and neurodivergent. Not that anyone aboard the ship would call themselves disabled. The crew of the S.S. SpoonZ are extremely confused when someone from another universe teleports aboard their ship and calls them by that word. In their universe, differences are celebrated and everything is accessible. From prosthetics to AI guide bots and portable quiet rooms, everyone’s accessible needs are met.

Described as a disability-hopepunk, Iris and the Crew Tear Through Space by Cait Gordon is completely unique. I’ve read plenty of books with queer-normative universes, but this is the first one with a disability-norm one. Gordon’s world-building is incredible, pushing the boundaries of what disability representation currently exists in fiction – and obliterating them. Authors take note; this book is filled with everything I would love to see in any book featuring disabled and neurodivergent characters.

Coupled with fantastic science fiction storylines and top-notch humour, Iris and the Crew Tear Through Space is an enjoyable and chaotic journey through the universe with quirky enigmatic characters. Disabled and neurodivergent readers will love the in-jokes mixed in.

With its fully accessible universe, this book represents what authors can do with disabled and neurodivergent representation if they only put their minds to it.

Briar is the Commander of Sunweald’s elite guard, The Shields, and has been a warrior all her life. It is all she’s known. So when she is wounded at the Summer Solstice saving the Lord Regent from an assassination attempt, Briar is left struggling with her new reality. The thought of retiring leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, but when faced with the hard truths, she realises that she needs to put the protection of those she cares about first. She leaves without telling the Lord Regent, her long-time friend, who would try to talk her out of it.

When Sunweald is viciously attacked, it’s by pure luck that Briar is still in the palace when it happens. She had planned to be long gone by then. It’s a good thing she wasn’t because due to treachery she’s the last Shield standing. She may have a shaky injured leg, but she’s got stealth, surprise and a massive amount of fury on her side. Briar is going to make the brigands pay for attacking her home and friends, or die trying.

I was expecting good things from The Last Shield by Cameron Johnston after reading The Maleficent Seven. Going in, I wasn’t expecting the protagonist to be a disabled, older female warrior. Johnston writes about Briar’s journey through injury and recovery with care and sensitivity, demonstrating lived experience or thorough research. The way that Briar refers to how difficult stars are with her injury suggests the former might be the case; stairs as an enemy is a unique experience known only to those who have lived through that excruciatingly fun time.

Briar is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. For me, though, she was right on the money. A woman who knows her place is damn proud of her achievements, and not afraid to let people know it. Despite Shields being open to men and women, misogyny is still very much alive and kicking, with several men under her command making their dislike of her known throughout the book. This just makes it even more satisfying when they realise who is lurking in the shadows, ruining all their plans.

Other than the obvious differences between The Last Shield and Die Hard (gender and genre swap), the biggest one is that Cameron has not made Briar all-powerful. Not only is she nursing her injury from the Summer Solstice, but he considers all the wear and tear taking its toll on his character’s body versus their experience. Although action films are good fun, they don’t take things like limitations or consequences into consideration. While Briar has the experience, she needs to take into consideration her limitations, and this makes for a much more interesting story.

The world-building of The Last Shield is beautiful in its simplicity. Cameron has dangled enough information about Sunweald, its history with the mysterious fae creatures the Sleaghan Mhath, and the surrounding lands of Ves and the Holy Wrendel Empire to give context. This is very much a book about the characters and action rather than lore. That doesn’t mean there isn’t any world-building or that it should be viewed as bad, but rather as a positive, as Cameron clearly knew what type of atmosphere he was trying to create with this novel.

Instead of trying to make The Last Shield too heavy with world-building, he has pulled from Celtic history and mythology, creating a world that echoes Scottish history and culture. With druids serving as the religious leaders and medical authorities, as they did in Celtic society, the Sleaghan Mhath are reminiscent of the Tuatha Dé Danann from Celtic mythology.

It’s a world that Briar and the rest of the characters fit into neatly, providing Cameron with the opportunity to introduce characters that range from the ruling family, and cast-out sons of noble families to servants. The characters are diverse and complicated, accompanied by stellar dialogue that will have you laughing. There are a few particular scenes that will keep me giggling for a very long time. There is also a brilliant animal companion that is not your typical animal companion, to say the least.

The fight scenes are well-written and diverse using a wide array of weapons, tactics and locations. A lot of fantasy books rely on just sword fighting or certain characters being experts in one particular weapon, often forgetting that shields were used for more than just deflection. The majority of the action takes place inside the palace, and Cameron has done his homework, using every single part of the palace and its grounds to get very creative. The results are some very creative and bloody fight scenes.

The level of blood and gore was deeply satisfying to read, especially as it comes from a mature female warrior avenging her people. Too often in fantasy are women not allowed to be this violent, and if they are, they are a lot younger. As some other reviews have mentioned, yes, there is a romantic subplot. I didn’t consider it that noteworthy, to be honest, and wasn’t even going to mention it until I saw other reviews referring to it in a slightly negative way – because, oh no, we can’t have a fierce tough as all hell female character AND romance, can we?! Give me a break.

The romance subplot is very minor. It is there and runs along beneath the main plot in the sense that Briar has feelings for someone and she wants to see them safe, as would anyone in this situation. There is no swooning or the like, and due to the situation, there aren’t many romance scenes at all.

If I’ve not convinced you by now, then this probably isn’t the book for you. The Last Shield by Cameron Johnston delivers a page-turning adventure with a strong female warrior who will do everything in her power to take back her home from the enemy – and she plans to make it as painful as possible for them.

Reeling from an awful breakup, the last thing Kate expected was an email from an old colleague offering her a great opportunity. She’s initially reluctant to accept; she had a huge crush on Ben when they studied together, and those feelings never quite disappeared. After all, Ben has a wife and daughter. He’s happily married and has his life together, while she on the other hand has been self-medicating as she tries to process being ghosted by her ex.

With the urging of her best friend, Kate accepts.

Despite what Kate thinks, Esben, Ben to his friends, does not have his life together in any way shape or form. His ex-wife is trying to break their custody agreement, and his daughter Frida seems to want nothing to do with him. As for being happy; Ben can’t remember the last time he’s felt that. He’s been struggling with depression for a long time, and combined with chronic back pain and body image issues it’s a whole complicated mess. He’s a complex mess that no woman could ever find attractive.

So what on earth was he thinking when he invited Kate to fill the open teaching spot at his field school this summer?!

He’s had feelings for her since they studied together twenty-three years ago, but when their study camp ended, Kate had started a relationship with someone else. Ben’s determined to keep their relationship professional.

Completely unaware of how the other feels and has felt all this time, both Kate and Ben start to rebuild their friendship while trying to hide the messy and painful parts of their lives.

Even If We’re Broken by A. M. Weald is exactly how I like my romance; raw, genuine and filled with representation. I came for the chronic illness and mental health representation, but I adored all the BIPOC, LGBTQIA+ and cultural representation in the book. None of it felt forced, I want to emphasise that. Weald listed the full LGBTQIA+ representation on her Instagram;

Kate (MC): bisexual
Clara (Kate’s BFF): lesbian
Felicity (Clara’s wife): trans, lesbian
Sam (Kate’s student): nonbinary, pansexual
Jorunn (Ben’s BFF): lesbian
Alex (Ben & Jorunn’s colleague): gay man
Zoe (Alex’s student): pansexual
Nikki (Kate’s ex): lesbian
Rio (Alex’s husband): gay man
Sylvi (Jorunn’s wife): bisexual
Spoiler: questioning

Even if I didn’t already know that this was written by an author with lived experiences, I would have recognised it as one. It isn’t just Weald’s attention to detail as someone living with chronic and mental health conditions, it’s the content she has included. With a title like Even If We’re Broken, you’d expect a book to go into the painful parts of the characters’ pasts. The synopsis says as much, right? But I’ve seen other books promise the same and then not deliver.

The huge difference is Weald’s lived experience, and it is clear that she’s poured her entire heart into this book. From the scenes about fat shaming from medical professionals and past partners, to finding the right medication and the difficulty in doing physio exercises alone when you’re in pain. Every single thing is perfectly nuanced. My heart was in my throat, and tears in my eyes so many times. This isn’t an easy read at times, but it is a cathartic one.

There is also joy and humour with Weald’s characters, even the dodgy professor, coming to life in full-blown colour. The dialogue is great, as is the pacing, and seeing people find their people is always wonderful. Even If We’re Broken is one of those books that had me feeling so many things, and it’s hard to put into words. So rather than start keyboard smashing, I’m just going to keep it simple; read this book.

In the European-style city of Siannerra, Cinzia works as a printer’s apprentice. Her mentor, Mestra Aronne, writes and distributes avvisi, pamphlets with the latest news. When she distributes one that reports on the actions of the lord magistrate and reveals his secrets, Aronne and Cinzia draw his wrath. Cinzia manages to escape, but her Mestra is imprisoned.

Cinzia is determined to find proof to back up her Mestra’s words. Finding new and unlikely allies as she goes, the girls are up against the full might of the ruling family as they fight for truth and against censorship.

I was delighted to receive a copy of Ink Girls by Marieke Nijkamp to review, and it was everything I hoped it would be, and more. Illustrated beautifully by Sylvia Bi, Ink Girls is a graphic novel about friendship, being yourself and not allowing anyone to stop you from speaking the truth – including your own truth. In a time when so much censorship is happening, it is a topic that we should be ensuring the next generation understands what it means and what is at stake.

Nijkamp has created a wonderful story that does just that, and Bi brings her characters to life with her bold and colourful style. There is so much representation in Ink Girls, which comes hand in hand with telling a story about censorship. There is so much representation that I’m not quite sure how some readers managed to miss it. Cinzia is disabled and uses a mobility aid, Elena is neurodivergent, Aneeqah wears a headscarf suggesting she is a Muslim and I read Carlotta as non-binary, possibly trans based on their character design.

I was even more certain of Cartlotta’s identity when they explained to Cinzia that not every home is a home for some people. The two girls talk about building one’s own family and how Carlotta has built one for people like themselves. Found family is a common feature in many marginalised people’s lives, especially within the LGBTQIA+ community.

I was instantly drawn to Elena. I often say when talking about middle-grade books with disabled and neurodivergent representation that “I wish this had existed when I was younger” and for me, Elena particularly strikes a chord. I see a lot of her in myself. I hope seeing neurodiversity represented through her will help other girls learn about themselves and understand that there is nothing wrong with them.

It was thrilling to see such an active disabled character on the pages! A massive thank you to Bi for how joyously she portrays Cinzia’s disability. This is what young people need to see! To the reviewer who complained that the girl with the cane “didn’t do anything”; she was doing plenty, but your ableism prevented you from noticing.

I think it’s essential that Nijkamp included historical information at the end. Not just so that any interested children can learn more about our communities’ history, but so they know that if they identify with any of the characters, those feelings are valid and no one can take that away from them.

Ink Girls is a fabulous read for all ages, although please do keep in mind that this is designed for younger readers. There are plenty of comics and graphic novels aimed at adults that will probably suit your tastes a lot better, if you find this one too “easy”.

Living with a chronic illness is complicated, and it has taken me decades to learn and consolidate tips and tricks that have helped me Do Life with my chronic illnesses. I’m not alone in this, and any resource that offered some insight into what I could expect and what was available for me would have been a huge help. That was the motivation behind Pippa Stacey’s latest book, How to Do Life with a Chronic Illness which I was grateful to receive a copy from the lovely people at Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

With the subtitle “Reclaim your identity, create independence, and find your way forward”, it might seem that Stacey is reaching quite far with the aims of this book. The dedication reads, “For anybody newly diagnosed with chronic illness. It may not feel like it right now, but there are so many amazing moments ahead of you”. That is the message that fills every page of this book, and some of you might be thinking, oh no, this isn’t for me, it’s way too perky. A book like this can very easily end up like that, and believe me, I’ve read them, but How to Do Life with a Chronic Illness has been carefully written to offer information and experience, not pretty words.

Stacey’s voice is honest, vulnerable and down to earth. As she relays extremely useful information, she backs it up with her anecdotes and her own experience, clearly subtitling these sections as ‘My experience’. I was impressed with the wide variety of information included, as well as the amount of interviews with guests. There’s even a part where Stacey opened up the floor to her Instagram followers, asking them to share what hobbies they found work for them as inspiration for readers. I thought that was a brilliant idea and showed just how wonderfully varied our community is.

‘Hobbies and Interests’ is sandwiched between ‘Rediscovering Your Identity’ and ‘Pacing and Condition Management’ in How to Do Life with a Chronic Illness. The way Stacey has arranged her chapters is great, leading each topic naturally into one that corresponds with it. She hasn’t shied away from the difficult topics, either. While she remains positive that people with chronic illnesses can do a lot of things, Stacey has lived through the difficult times. She has ME/CFS and candidly talks about developing the condition, how she tried to power through it and how it felt to realise her new normal.

Like Stacey, I have ME/CFS and have been in that position. I also have several other chronic illnesses, most of which I had before developing ME/CFS, while my situation was a bit different, we both had to struggle with learning to live with an energy-limiting condition. It took me a long time, and a great therapist, to get to the point where I felt like I knew who I was again. A book like How to Do Life with a Chronic Illness would have been a very powerful tool to have in my arsenal.

A book can’t stop medical gaslighting from happening, however, knowledge is power. Until I developed ME/CFS, I lived in a happy delusional bubble where I believed medical professionals helped you if you were sick. Oh, how I was wrong. Stacey’s self-advocacy chapter is a must-read for every chronically ill, disabled and neurodivergent person. It has great advice on how to make a complaint, including a fabulous draft email that you can use. This is a resource that I (sadly) know that I am going to use a lot.

As someone who struggles to use their hands to write I was grateful, and honestly, astonished, to find at the end of the introduction a wee note with a QR code and a URL to download the end-of-chapter journal prompts digitally! It was such a simple idea, and yet I’ve never seen it done before. While I skipped the journal prompts, I did look over them as I went, and they looked to be very thoughtfully put together. They will be a great help to someone who has just been diagnosed or who is struggling with their chronic illnesses.

My one small complaint about How to Do Life with a Chronic Illness is that although Stacey has done her best to make this a book that applies to all types of chronic illness, at times it does read more aimed at people with energy-limiting illnesses. That is to be expected, as Stacey only has her own experiences to go from, and the only reason I’m mentioning this is for other readers like myself who have multiple chronic health conditions. There are thousands of chronic health conditions, so do not expect this book to cover every situation.

Likewise, as someone who is quite far along in their chronic illness journey and feels confident in their identity, this book was not designed for people like me. That is not to say that it is not useful for more experienced people, there is a lot of useful information in this book, and some of it I only learned in recent years!

Also, keep in mind that Stacey is British, so information such as benefits is UK-related. This doesn’t mean non-UK readers will find How to Do Life with a Chronic Illness useless, however. The same thing occurred when I read Demystifying Disability by Emily Ladau (Ladau is American) and it is the book I recommend the most.

How to Do Life with a Chronic Illness by Pippa Stacey is a great addition to any chronically ill person’s bookshelf with resources for everyone. 

Please note:

This comic review for A Haunted Girl by Ethan and Naomi Sacks discusses mental health conditions and suicide ideation from the beginning. I know from experience how triggering it can be to read about these topics. If you are not in a place to read about these, please be kind to yourself 🙂 For content warnings for the comic itself, please see above.

As a teenager, I struggled a lot with my mental health and had no clue how bad it was until much later. At the time, I just thought it was normal teenage angst, and that how bad I was feeling was what everyone else was feeling. That was what the magazines said, after all. While some things have got better since I was a teenager, there is still, so little mental health representation out there, especially for teenagers. They skirt around the topics of medication, hospitalisation, and suicide ideation.

A Haunted Girl by Ethan and Naomi Sacks was created by a father and daughter who lived through all that together. The idea came to Sacks when he was waiting to visit his daughter Naomi at a paediatric psychological ward where she had been hospitalised for severe depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation. These experiences are reflected in the pages of the comic as we follow the journey of 16-year-old Cleo, an adopted Japanese-American, from her stay in hospital to her reintegration back into her old life.

Rather than the starting point being Cleo’s first day outside the hospital, we first meet Cleo in the hospital. It’s her birthday and her dad brings her a cake, and although it wasn’t the sixteenth birthday either of them imagined for her, they make the most of it. Fast-forward two months, and Cleo is meeting with her psychologist for the first time before returning to school on Monday. Again, this was good to see because so often in the media it feels as though the teenage protagonist is just thrown straight back into mainstream society without any support.

When Cleo’s first day comes about it’s as awkward as expected, with awkwardness from the teachers who don’t know what to say to her, and nasty comments from the mean girls. What I particularly liked was how the Sacks showed the way Cleo didn’t know how to deal with her friends. What to say to them, how to react to their enthusiasm that she’s back, how to explain that she’s still struggling. The visual impact of the comic makes these scenes feel so much more powerful.

With a father and daughter team behind the wheel of this comic, we get to see both sides of the relationship, and while Cleo is the focus of A Haunted Girl some wonderful scenes show the struggles of a parent in this situation. Both creators truly put their heart and soul into this and it shows.

As well as being about mental health, this is a supernatural comic and as Cleo tries to return to her old life she finds out that the odds are against her. While she’s been trying to act like everything is normal, she’s been having terrifying visions. It’s almost a relief when she finds out that they’re not hallucinations… almost. Something else much more serious is going on, and it’s something Cleo can’t run from.

While A Haunted Girl does use the ‘chosen one’ trope, this is not a story where the main character is suddenly cured. It’s a story about understanding mental health, recognising that life is in a state of flux and that means there will be problems. Sometimes those problems are mental health conditions, but with the right support, we can work through them.

Starfire by Naomi Hughes is a science fantasy novel about a young man who wishes to see the real sky. On the planet he calls home, a large barrier fills the sky keeping the population safe from star dragons, large creatures who almost decimated human settlers when they arrived a thousand years ago. The barrier has kept the dragons out but kept the humans locked in beneath a white sky. Peregrine has wanted to see the sky beyond the barrier for as long as he can remember, and he would do anything to see beyond it.

When a star dragon breaks a hole in the barrier, Per’s wish comes true in the worst way possible. Star dragons have the devastating power of uncreation, anything hit by their starfire is unmade, and instantly removed from reality and memory. As star dragons leave destruction and death in their wake, places and people disappear from memory as if they never existed. As Per watches his world devolves into chaos, he can’t help finding himself drawn towards the star dragon when he should be running in the opposite direction.

Finding a place on a submarine along with the famed “Star Slayer”, Per believes that he can find answers to his questions. He’s started having vivid dreams of star dragons, which concern him. Every day is a daily struggle against intrusive thoughts that tell him he is going to harm someone, a condition known as harm OCD. Despite being completely out of his element, Per is finding some comfort in the charismatic captain, Z, and the more time he spends with Z, the more Per realises he’s falling for him.

This was always going to be a journey of self-discovery, Per knew that. He just never realised how big those discoveries were going to be.

Some books just knock the wind out of you, and Starfire is one of those. It is an incredible book that combines science fiction with elements of fantasy and features a lot of representation. There is an M/M relationship, a bisexual main character, a non-binary secondary character, BIOPC characters and disabled and mental health representation.

As mentioned, Per has harm OCD and a foreword by Hughes describes this as involving “intrusive thoughts (scary/ violent thoughts that seem to pop up out of the blue), along with a pervasive fear that the “bad thoughts” mean you are a bad person who is likely to carry out those violent actions in real life […].”

This was a type of OCD I was unfamiliar with, and the inclusion of its representation in this book is why I wanted to highlight it for repDISND. This book is a brilliant example of how featuring representation in fiction can help spread awareness about mental health. There is always the chance that the representation might not be correct, however, when the author includes a foreword about the condition with advice and links to more information that is a very positive sign that it is going to be a good portrayal. In Hughes’ case, her author bio also mentions that she “writes ownvoices mental health into everything she can”. For those who are not familiar with the term “ownvoices” it refers to authors writing from lived experience.

The scenes showing Per’s OCD and anxiety felt familiar to me as someone with mental health conditions of my own, even though harm OCD was new to me. Rather than feeling alienated by the difference between us, I was drawn further to Per as Hughes helped me understand how his intrusive thoughts made him feel. There are many types of intrusive thoughts, and while mine do not involve violence, I’ve certainly questioned whether I was a bad person many times.

In addition to mental health representation, another main character, Z the captain of the submarine, uses a hover-propelled wheelchair. Z is an ambulatory wheelchair user and is not paralysed, however, walking is very difficult due to intense pain. No details are given regarding his disability, so it is not clear whether he has a chronic illness or his pain is the result of an injury.

Hughes is an excellent storyteller who embodies her characters with so much life and energy. I loved the realism she infuses into them and their relationships, particularly between Per and his family members. His sister, Anthem, is a force of nature and very different to her brother, and the scenes between the two siblings are powerful and emotional. The dialogue throughout the book is on fire from start to finish, especially Anthem’s witty one-liners. If you love sassy bisexuals, she’s your girl.

I was impressed with the way Hughes handled character development, showing the way each character processes events and new information. The journey the younger characters are making on the submarine is juxtaposed by Per and Anthem’s parents, who unlike most parents in YA books don’t just sit ideally by as their children run off unsupervised in the middle of a global catastrophe! Let’s just say that Anthem inherited her sass from somewhere, and as an adult, I truly appreciated that the adult characters were well-written.

At the heart of Starfire are themes of identity, and the journey to finding where we belong in the world. Be warned though, Hughes turns the coming-of-age trope on its head in this book with some incredible twists and turns, so if you think you’ve been there, read this before, I can assure you that you have not. This is me telling you to go read this book right now. It’s also on Kindle Unlimited, so you have no excuse!

 The Branded by Jo Riccioni is a dystopian novel where centuries ago, a Great Malady happened, and the brume virus spread, decimating most of the population. It resulted in most of the population becoming more physically weaker and vulnerable to disease and infection. The virus left a blue mark on their skin like a brand, and they became known as the Branded. A smaller part of the population became physically bigger, and stronger, and were immune to disease and infection. They became known as the Pure.

As a result of these changes, the Pure became the dominant class in society in some parts of the Continent and the role of Pure women changed, with an emphasis on their ability to breed. They have become a commodity, and in Isfalk they are kept hidden away in a citadel under the guise of it being for their protection.

Meanwhile, the Branded live in squalor in the surrounding village. They are told that they must keep the Pure wardens fed as the wardens keep everyone safe, including them, so they must give their harvests to the Pure. In actuality, it’s so that the Pure can live in luxury and have an overabundance of food. The Branded who have less visible brands are allowed to serve in the citadel. It is a crime for the Branded and the Pure to have relationships in Isfalk as the Branded have a chance to pass on their physical weaknesses to their offspring, however, that does not stop Pure males from spending time in brothels in the Branded village.

The Branded tells the story of twins Nara and Osha, two young women who grew up with their grandmother in the forests before losing her in a vicious attack. With no details about their parents, the children fled to the citadel. Once it was established that they were both Pure, they were integrated into the restrictive and religious society of the citadel. While her sister seems to fit right in, Nara hates everything the citadel stands for, especially the expectation that young women will meekly accept being paired to a male Pure and give birth to a child every year for the rest of their lives.

She longs for the freedom she and her sister had before they came to the citadel, the freedom to choose her future. Nara doesn’t want to sit at home in luxury as someone’s wife, she wants to become a warden. But Pure women, Mor, are not even allowed outside the citadel without a cadre of wardens to protect them. They’re certainly not allowed to fight.

When Nara is unexpectedly thrown out of the citadel, she gets her wish but for the first time, the sisters are separated. Alone and in danger, she has to rely on the mysterious Wrangler, a Branded that seems to know more about Nara and Osha and their past than they do. As she tries to find a way back to her sister, Nara begins to learn things about herself and revelations that will change everything they know.

I enjoyed The Branded, it has an interesting story with good pacing, well-written characters and solid world-building. Unfortunately, there are some issues with this book that I can’t overlook. As a disabled reader, I’m interested in speculative fiction that has themes of illness. While this is a main theme in The Branded, I was disappointed to learn that it isn’t mentioned as one of the book’s main themes. Instead, it is being promoted as a “speculative novel with explosive ideas around gender and class“. Additionally, Riccioni’s author bio states that this series is inspired by her desire to “see women and women’s issues at the heart of the epic fantasy canon”.

The problem is that The Branded is not a book about gender and class; it’s a book about how a pandemic caused humanity to split into two groups. The resulting society that is created is founded on eugenicist beliefs, leading to a rigid class system with strict gender roles.

Although Riccioni has written a speculative fiction novel that mirrors our society and the divide between healthy people and the disabled and neurodivergent community, I do not think this was her intention. The Branded are subject to social barriers that negatively impact their lives, something that is very similar to the social model of disability.

Rather than bringing women’s issues into epic fantasy canon, I fear that this book represents the book world’s dismissive attitude towards the inclusion of disability-related topics in the genre. Riccioni has ample opportunity to include disabled characters, instead choosing to change her narrative to avoid them. When Nara journeys outside Isfalk she meets more Branded and learns that they aren’t as weak as the Isfalki have been told. It’s not unbelievable, as it’s one of many lies she learns that the Pure have been told. This doesn’t change the fact that it’s a very convenient way to avoid having to include disabled characters.

The Branded reminded me of Burrowed by Mary Baader Kaley, another dystopian book where society is split into two groups after a worldwide pandemic; one physically strong, and one weak and vulnerable to infection. Riccioni makes the same mistake that Kaley did by not considering the long-term effects of a low immune system. Both authors make multiple references to the weaker group being more prone to infection and illness, but there is no mention of chronic illnesses developing as a result. This oversight is not surprising since like Kaley, Riccioni appears to be non-disabled.

Ironically, there is one chronic illness represented in The Branded and that is arthritis – in a Pure man. Riccioni makes the point that despite living longer and being physically stronger, the Pure have some physical limitations. While they appear to live for much longer, they still have to deal with the effects of old age, including wear and tear. I think it says a lot that the only disability representation in this book is in association with ageing.

Disabled representation is not the only representation missing in The Branded. There is hardly any diversity in the entire book. Nixim, aka, ‘the Wrangler’ is the only BIPOC character for the majority of the book, with others only appearing very briefly. His people, the Reis, are called barbarians who spin fantastical stories and exploit people with their “dark arts”. I felt like these descriptions embodied quite a few racist beliefs, including the ‘good’ white people with their acceptable religious beliefs (Isfalk) and the ‘bad’ black people with their ‘hooky’ spiritual beliefs (Reis). While it does become evident that the Isfalk are not necessarily ‘good’, an anti-racism narrative would have felt more believable if there was more than one Reis character present.

Similar to race, there is only the briefest of mentions of LGBTQIA+ representation. One of the young Mor women is accused of “unnatural liaisons” with a Branded maid that goes against the “First Mother’s Natural Order”. As mentioned relationships between the Branded and the Pure are considered abhorrent, a crime that goes against the Isfalki religious beliefs. While the rhetoric used in the accusation is from the Isfalki’s religious doctrine, it uncomfortably echoes the views held by many anti-LGBTQIA+ campaigners. If there was any genuine LGBTQIA+ representation in the book I could believe that was meant to highlight prejudice, but since there is none, it feels uncomfortably deliberate.

This book had so much potential, and instead of utilising a great setting to discuss disability issues, Riccioni has actively removed any diversity from The Branded. She wanted to write a book that brought women’s issues into fantasy, and apparently, that meant white heterosexual women. While the world she has created includes a large group of physically vulnerable people, the only health issues featured are those that would concern mothers; pregnancy issues, fertility issues, infections (especially for children), and old age.

While we do need more books in fantasy that focus on women and family, I don’t believe that The Branded did that successfully. Although the characters fight against a restrictive society where women are forced into the role of motherhood, I like the book was predominantly shaped by ideas of motherhood. As a chronically ill queer woman who is not a mother, I felt like this book was written with people like me not in mind.

Although I have added the second book in the duology to my TBR, I do not hold out much hope for any improvement when it comes to the representation in it.