Life’s Little Mysteries


From the time I could read, I’ve been enthralled by mystery stories. An unsolved case, a missing person, an inexplicable event – it didn’t matter the context, I just wanted to follow the clues with the characters and know the answers.

My first mystery stories were ones from my local library. They weren’t exactly mysteries in the traditional sense but they definitely had that mystery element and tended to be about things like ghosts and kids with strange powers. I found my way to traditional mystery novels in junior high and high school, and to this day, I power through mystery novels as fast as I can get my hands on them. Cozy, twisted, themed, classic, contemporary, historical, it doesn’t really matter; I love them all.

But life isn’t often much like books, especially ones that are high concept and take situations to the extreme like mysteries do. I got to thinking about the mysteries I’ve experienced in my own life, true mysteries for which I don’t have the answers. I only have a few, but I decided to write a little about them and speculate as to the truth.

roseThe White Rose

When: December, 1999, the last day of fall semester

Where: my combination junior/senior high school

What happened: School was over and winter break had begun, but I think I had basketball practice that afternoon, so I was staying at the school until practice was over. I had cleaned out my locker, leaving only a few school books I wouldn’t need, and headed to the girls’ locker room to hang out until practice started.

I got to talking with one of my friends and fellow teammates and realized that one of the books I needed to take home over break was one I’d left in my locker. I trudged all the way back to the junior high lockers to retrieve it.

The school was practically empty and no one was about in the halls. Our lockers were old and didn’t have locks, so when I opened my locker, I found that someone had left a white rose inside. The rose was rather large and pretty, and had one of those plastic tubes at the bottom filled with water. I looked around, but no one was there. They had to have put it in my locker in the short time between my first locker visit and me returning to retrieve my book. If I hadn’t needed that book, the rose would have stayed in there until school started again in January, so I was really glad I’d had a reason to go back to my locker.

Whodunit: I’ve always thought it was one of two boys. One of them had a girlfriend at the time, but we flirted a lot and I really liked him. The other liked me but I wasn’t interested in him as more than a friend. Neither of them ever admitted to leaving the rose. And because of the lockless-lockers, it could have been anyone.

Why: Either someone wanted me to have a rose, or they put it in the wrong locker. Your guess is as good as mine.

footprintThe Footprints

When: winter of either 1998 or 1999

Where: my house

What happened: School got cancelled because of snow, so my parents were at work and I was at home with my little sister. The snow fell until about noon, leaving 4-6 inches on the ground the rest of the day.

In the afternoon, my sister got hungry so I made her some ramen noodles. My sister has always been a ramen fanatic, but this was the first time I ever tried making food using the stove without my parents around. When my parents got home a couple hours later, I stood at the door in the laundry room that led to the garage and watched them through the open garage door, facing the backyard and looking at something in the snow.

They asked me if either of us had gone outside. I said no (they’d told us to stay inside during the day and we had). Again, they told us to stay inside instead of coming out there to help them bring in dinner.

We had a window with blinds on it that looked directly into our kitchen from the back deck. I peaked through the blinds that had been open all day to see my mom and dad peering down at the ground as they walked carefully through our snow covered backyard.

When they came inside, I asked them what was going on. They asked if either me or my sister had seen anyone around the house. We hadn’t. They told me to put on some shoes and a jacket and come outside. We walked out on the deck through the back door and there, in the snow in front of the kitchen window, was a pair of footprints.

They were bigger than my dad’s size twelve. They trailed from the copse of tree’s behind the neighbor’s house, through our yard, and to our kitchen window. They had to have been made after the snow stopped falling since they hadn’t been filled in, which means someone was likely watching me while I was in the kitchen or watching me and my sister while we were in the living room (where we would have been visible through the open kitchen door).

Whodunit: Due to the shoe size, the culprit was probably a large male or a medium male with snow boots, and therefore, I’ve always thought it was a pervy neighbor we weren’t acquainted with. But we never found out and nothing like it ever happened again.

Why: People can be creepy.

thank youThe Empty Thank You

When: sometime in late 2004, early 2005

Where: my house

What happened: I was at home from my freshman year of college, either on break or on a weekend, when my mom checked the mail and saw that I had received a card.

The card was smaller than a greeting card and in the return-to-sender corner, all that was written was D. Drury.

I opened the card and saw that it was a thank you card. It was standard white with a simple gold cursive THANK YOU printed on the front, and inside, it was blank.

No message, nothing. I studied the card and envelope for several minutes, showing it to my family. I hadn’t done anything, been to anything, that warranted a thank you card, and I didn’t know anyone with the last name of Drury, but whoever they were, they knew my name and address and thought for some reason to send me this card, blank as it was.

I searched the internet as best I could considering the little information I had (and considering it was 2004/5) and came up with absolutely nothing. I didn’t know whether to think it was some kind of mistake or some kind of weird trick.

Whodunit: I would love to know.

Why: Seriously, I would love to know.

So those are my little mysteries! Do you have any unexplained happenings in your life? If so, are they interesting like in mystery novels or a little mundane, like mine? Let me know in the comments if you wish!

Don’t. Assume. Anything.

 photo naomi-august-138149.jpgTW: Depression, anxiety, panic attacks, suicide

While writing, reading, and books are a main part of what I write about on here, I also want to talk about other things that affect me and others around me. In this post, I’m going to be using the term mental illness a lot, mainly because it’s an easily recognizable term. I want to clarify that I do believe that a mental illness is a brain illness, which means it is a physical illness even if it manifests in the intangible mind.

If you are a person with a mental illness, chances are you’ve had some silly things said to you about your illness from people who do not share your experiences. I’m sure I’ve even said some of those things, though I myself have depression and anxiety, because, hey, no one is perfect.

But I want to explain why some of these things can be bothersome, so here are three things that have been said to me in the last three years when I’ve revealed that I have depression/anxiety/panic attacks. These things came from well-meaning individuals, but I found myself feeling less empowered and uplifted and more misunderstood and alienated.

“I never thought you were depressed. You’re always so happy!”

I would like to introduce you to my Survival Mask. My Survival Mask makes it so that I can seemingly function in the world while dying on the inside. My Survival Mask helps me navigate day to day situations without turning into a blubbering pile of despair every time someone asks me how I am. I have stuff to do, and my Survival Mask helps me focus on getting those things done instead of focusing on how I terrible I feel. Each morning I create the mask and once I’m back in a safe space where I can wear my real emotions on my face, I take that mask and throw it against the wall, only to create a new one the next day.

I deserve a flipping Oscar for the amount of people I have fooled into thinking I am a positive, happy, optimistic, always bubbly person. I mean, I am, that’s mostly what the Real Me is like. But the Real Me is only achieved when my depression is under control thanks to medication and other therapies. And while I am open to talking about my mental illnesses, I don’t feel like sharing every problem they cause me all the time. I’m definitely in the camp of “fake it ’til you make it” and I try to live how I want to be, not necessarily how I am. The drawback is that wearing my Survival Mask is exhausting, so when I’m not wearing it, all I want to do is sleep. And not everyone can hide their depression, and really, none of us should have to. The stigma around mental illness is a big reason why most of us try.

If I tell you I have depression, what that means is I suffer from a mental illness that affects every moment of my life. I’m letting you in, lifting the mask, and I’m trusting you. You don’t have to tell me you didn’t know, because I meant for you to not know. But now that you do, I’m hoping you understand me a little more than you did a minute ago. If not, you can educate yourself here.

“Oh, you have anxiety/panic attacks? What about?”

While stress and upsetting situations can trigger/make me more susceptible to anxiety and panic attacks, neither require a source. Sometimes I just feel anxious. Sometimes I just have a panic attack. Both suck and zap me of energy and often leave me feeling fragile and vulnerable. I have learned, through therapy and continued education (which can be found here), how to deal with both in ways that work for me. I use a pressure point and breathing exercise, calming music, ASMR videos, and EMDR therapy (this video usually) to reduce anxiety, and sometimes these methods can keep me from falling into a panic spiral when I feel a panic attack coming on.

But for panic attacks that get to a point where those methods won’t work (or I’m not in a state that I can use them effectively), I often have to cocoon myself, which generally means I have to wrap myself up in blankets, stay in bed (my safe place), and sometimes receive comfort from a safe person. I’ve had one panic attack where I could not get to a safe space, was alone, and could not calm myself. It was so bad I started having suicidal thoughts. I knew I needed outside help, so my only option was to call 911. It was the right decision because the panic attack triggered an asthma attack, so I was in as much physical pain as I was mental pain.

But here’s the real problem with the question above: even if my anxiety/panic attack has a trigger, I’m not likely to tell you what it is. First, knowing that you think all anxiety/panic attacks have a source lets me know you are not a safe person to discuss them with. Second, unless you are already a trusted person with whom I’ve talked about this before, this question feels like prying. I know the intention is usually to help, to identify the problem and reassure me things are fine. But if you understood anxiety/panic attacks, you’d know that while I appreciate your sympathy, your reassurance isn’t actually helpful.

“Depressed? You shouldn’t feel bad about yourself. You’re great!”

Self-esteem has never been a problem for me. Being that I am a woman with a large quantity of fat on my body, the assumption might be that I have body image issues, but I don’t. I’ve always been bigger than other people even before I was fat and it’s never been something that bothered me in a lasting way. But self-esteem doesn’t have to be body related, it can be about my view of myself as a whole person.

To be completely honest, I am brazenly self-centered. I analyze everything I do, say, and think and I live in my own little world most of the time. I talk to myself and I enjoy talking about myself and sharing my thoughts and opinions. I am always intricately involved with whatever is going on with my brain, sometimes to the detriment of my communication skills. I’m compassionate and empathetic, loving and kind, but also cynical, sarcastic, and I can use my words as weapons. I’m extroverted and love to talk to people about things I enjoy, but I’m also introverted and enjoy being alone and can get annoyed when my solitary activities are interrupted. I can be extremely patient and extremely impatient. I am Type-A and can be an insufferable know-it-all. I know I am smart and capable of many things. I can come across as condescending and conceited, overly enthusiastic and loud, a bleeding heart, ditzy. I know I am awesome but I also know I’m not a perfect person. Either way, I do not feel bad about myself. I try to be my best self, which doesn’t always work, but I try, and that’s what matters most to me.

I am a person with depression but I do not have low self-esteem. While low self-esteem can accompany depression and sometimes the two can become intertwined, depression and low self-esteem are separate issues. I believe where the two become conflated is in the notion that depression lies to you about yourself, which is true for many people. But in my case, depression does so by taking over my feelings.

Depression makes me feel worthless, that no one loves me, that no one understands me, that I am utterly alone, and that dying would be better than continuing to live in such pain and turmoil. When depression takes over, I feel those things, but I don’t think them, because the me that does the thinking is Real Me and Real Me knows better. I can even hold two opposing ideas – feeling unloved but knowing I’m loved – in my head at the same time. I’ve been dealing with depression for over twenty years now, so while not all people with depression can, I am able to separate my thoughts and feelings from what depression puts in my head.

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If I had to sum up in one phrase how to avoid statements and questions that make life more difficult for someone with a mental illness, I’d pick this:

Don’t assume anything.

There are many kinds of mental illnesses, and every person’s experience is different. If someone has trusted you enough to reveal that they have a mental illness, know that they don’t do so lightly. Do your best to be a support to the people in your life with mental illnesses. Help us end the stigma by breaking the cycle of misinformation and bad representation by educating yourself using the many sites and tools the internet provides.

Above all, set an example by treating us with the dignity, respect, and compassion we deserve as human beings.

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If you or someone you know is suicidal, please contact

The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

[Review] Goodbye Days by Jeff Zentner

Title: Goodbye Days ~~ Author: Jeff Zentner
Series: None ~~ Release Date: 03/07/2017
Source: ARC Tour
FTC Disclosure: I accepted this ARC free of charge and received no compensation for my fair and honest review.

From Goodreads:

Can a text message destroy your life?

Carver Briggs never thought a simple text would cause a fatal crash, killing his three best friends, Mars, Eli, and Blake. Now Carver can’t stop blaming himself for the accident and even worse, there could be a criminal investigation into the deaths.

Then Blake’s grandmother asks Carver to remember her grandson with a ‘goodbye day’ together. Carver has his misgivings, but he starts to help the families of his lost friends grieve with their own memorial days, along with Eli’s bereaved girlfriend Jesmyn. But not everyone is willing to forgive. Carver’s own despair and guilt threatens to pull him under into panic and anxiety as he faces punishment for his terrible mistake. Can the goodbye days really help?

When I read a contemporary YA novel, I usually go into it with mild expectations because contemporary is such a broad category, and each book can be completely different from the next. If anyone follows me on Twitter or Goodreads, you probably saw me freakout over Jeff Zentner’s debut novel The Serpent King. It was set near my hometown in Tennessee (with a few mentions of my hometown, no less), and it was hopeful, tragic, atmospheric, and I loved every minute of it. It also made me cry, which is a feat for any book to accomplish. It easily became one of my favorite contemporary YA novels of all time.

So when Stefani of Caught Read Handed sent out a general invitation to join an ARC tour for Zentner’s next book, Goodbye Days, on her Twitter (thank you Stefani!!!), I jumped at the chance to read it. Like TSK, Goodbye Days is set in Tennessee and sounded even more tragic. Now knowing the quality of Zenter’s writing and storytelling abilities, I knew that even if it didn’t reach instant-favorite level, it would still be a good read.

But Zentner delivered again. I honestly don’t know which book of his two I prefer more. Goodbye Days didn’t make me cry, though it came close, and it book spoke to me in a different way than TSK. The Serpent King had a distinct, almost claustrophobic atmosphere made up of small-town life, the weight of hopes and dreams, the potential to live beyond the life we are born into, and senseless loss. All of those factors made the otherwise completely realistic story feel ethereal at times.

Goodbye Days differs in that there is no hazy distance between you and the stark reality of the tragedy in the book. The reality of heavy emotions starts on page one and never lets up. While grief and loss fill each chapter, Zentner also skillfully layers in laughter and hope. As we follow Carver through his coping, and not coping, with the loss of his best friends, we get to see flashbacks of him with the boys. Those moments were electric and alive, and even more than that, they were raw and mesmerizing in their simplicity and joy.

Just like in The Serpent King, Zentner’s writing feels effortless but makes an impact. I flagged several lines in the text, many feeling like gut punches. The dialogue is on-point, and I loved how he integrated the setting of Nashville into the story. One of my favorite things about this book is how well Zentner represents what grief, anxiety, and panic attacks can feel like. Some of Carver’s thoughts felt like they were pulled out of my own head, and his experience with panic attacks mirrored my own. Zentner also shows that getting professional help for mental issues can be helpful and useful, not stupid and pointless like a lot of YA books posit, and I’m glad Zentner included this purely positive representation.

When it came to the characters, I felt like I could relate to almost every one of them in some way or another. I highly identified with Carver and his struggles with mental health in the face of grief. All of the main characters and many of the side characters felt fully formed. The only exception for me was Jesmyn because she just didn’t stick with me the way all the others did. Carver was definitely the closest to my heart, but my favorite character was his sister, Georgia. Some of her lines were laugh-out-loud worthy, and I loved her fierce love for her family and her confidence and wisdom. She is who I wish I was back when I was in college.

The only slight drawback of the book was a subplot revolving around Carver and Jesmyn. It wasn’t bad, I just didn’t feel that it fit perfectly into the story, and the resolution of it wasn’t as satisfying as the emotional journey Carver experiences with the other characters and with himself. But due to the many, many wonderful lines and feelings-inducing scenes, this was just a blip in an overall amazing story.

My words do barely any justice in describing the experience of reading Goodbye Days. I can’t express how much this book made me feel, and I’m not a re-reader, but I’ll be picking this up again and again because it is that wonderful. Goodbye Days is an experience unto itself, and despite it being all about tragedy and grief, the ultimate feeling of hope and recovery make every potential tear worth it.

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If you’ve read any number of young adult books, it comes as no surprise to find that there is often some kind of romantic plot/subplot within the text. Since I write YA books, there is some expectation of that in my stories as well. I plan to have (at least) one in my current project. I have my main character, A, and she is eventually going to wind up with boy Z.

Already I’ve got several little scenes of them falling for each other, but the more I thought about them riding off together at the end of the series, the more my gut was telling me something was off. I didn’t question if they would remain together (they definitely will), but I couldn’t see what their lives would be like at all.

I’m not one of those authors who knows the entire future of my characters post-book. I don’t really feel a need to know, but I do need whatever conclusion I give them in the book to feel right, to feel true. When I started digging through my own brain, I realized the problem I was having with A and Z wasn’t what was missing after the action of the books, but what was missing within the books.

I’ve never pictured A and Z kissing.

When I figured that out, other things became clear to me. They prefer to be touching if they can be, and hugging is their favorite. The love to laugh and banter, they help each other through trauma and pain, and by the end of the series they are deeply in love.

So why no kissing?

And then it was like a lightening bolt struck me on the head: A and Z are asexual. Everything fell into place when I used this word to describe them.

In case you don’t know, I am gray-sexual or gray-ace, which is under the umbrella of asexuality. (If you want more detailed info on what all of that means, click HERE.) But it had never, not once, occurred to me that my main character and her final love interest could possibly be ace. I’d considered it with other characters, but not them.

I had been taking the sexuality (implied or explicit) found in the majority of YA love stories and applying it to A and Z, expecting them to fall in line. But why should they?

It seems like such an easy and obvious conclusion to come to, considering I’m ace myself, but it took me a while. I’m glad my characters, or my inner ace, put up enough fuss to show me where I was going wrong with A and Z’s love story.

Hopefully I’ll get to share them, in all their ace glory, with you eventually.

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For more information on asexuality, please visit

The Asexual Visibility and Education Network.

In the Shadow of Doubt

I don’t know anyone who isn’t touched by the political and social turmoil going on in the country right now. For me, the disappointment and anger at the election, the subsequent awful things happening within our government, and the continual worry that marginalized people are not going to be protected have weighed heavy in my mind for months.

I’ve tried to be proactive about my worry: protesting, making calls and writing letters to my representatives, joining organizations that help marginalized people, donating when I can, being present at events to show support to people who need it.

The work of pushing back at all the bad I see is not that exhausting because being with other people who are also working to those ends is encouraging and invigorating (being an ambivert does have its advantages). But the worry, the mental strain, and the necessary constant vigilance is like air drying out clay, making me brittle and crumbly all around (shout out to Mad Eye Moody – no wonder he was a little cracked). All of this is in addition to my personal life, which has seen its fair share of extra stress lately. I already deal with anxiety, panic attacks, and depression, and the combined strain of everything near and far is making it difficult to keep it (me) together.

So how in the world am I supposed to write? This is a question I’ve seen many writers struggling with. And like many, I am in a valley, not on a mountaintop, when it comes to my relationship with writing. Which leads me to a scarier question:

Am I cut out to be a writer at all?

This valley that I mentioned, I feel like I’ve been in it for a while. If you name a method of writing, of ways to get words on the page, I’ve tried it. Nothing, literally not one of them, has stuck. Even in days of less stress and worry, I’m terrible about actually doing the work. Maybe it’s just that my life and my brain are too scattered and messy for anything resembling discipline, plans, and good habits.

Or maybe…maybe I just can’t hack it.

Maybe I’m not supposed to be a writer.

And that, my friends, is a terrible thought. If I’m not supposed to be a writer, why do I have stories and characters and scenes filling my brain when they get a chance? I may not have a great process that helps me fill blank pages, but planning what I’m going to write and creating characters and settings and plot lines is something I do all the time.

So I don’t think I could ever stop being a writer, even if I tried to quit. Knowing that is nice, but it doesn’t help me with my main problem: the physical act of writing, specifically, finishing a novel. It is quite possible that I’m not cut out to write novels. It is a lot, a lot, a lot of work, and as I said before, my life and brain are not wired to do anything that requires good habits and personal discipline. But I still love doing it, even if I’m not great at getting it done.

When I dug deeper, I realized I was putting a lot of pressure on myself to conform to this idea that I have of what being a writer is, and that by not living up to that imagined standard, I’ve opened up this floodgate of guilt and doubt. I’ve structured my life in such a way that the things that I believe need doing, for both the wider world and the people in my life, should take the top priority, not writing.

But if writing isn’t my most important thing, does that mean it is just my hobby? Does that mean I don’t take it seriously enough? Does that mean that because I don’t treat writing like a job, I won’t ever “make it” (whatever that means to me)?

These questions bothered me until I removed the self-imposed pressure. And once removed, the answer I discovered was: Who cares! So what if my writing looks like just a hobby on the outside; I know I take it seriously, even if I can’t devote as much time to it as I wish I could. I also know that I’d rather my novel take me way longer to complete than to give it up all together.

So I’ve decided to stop pressuring myself to be the kind of writer that I am not and to stop feeling guilty when things aren’t happening as quickly as I would like them to. I know what kind of outcome I would like to see when I finish my novel, and I’ve set goals for myself, but I have also made peace with the fact that this valley may be all I experience for a while.

I’ve decided to enjoy the journey instead of fretting about when it will end. I will do what I set out to accomplish, even if it takes longer than my doubt tells me it should.

Doubting myself is okay, but I won’t allow my doubts to tell me who or what I am.

I am a writer, one thought, one word, at a time.

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[Review] Andromeda (God-Haunted #1) by Meg Trotter

Title: Andromeda ~~ Author: Meg Trotter
Series: God-Haunted ~~ Release Date: 07/12/2016
Source: publicist
FTC Disclosure: I accepted this review copy free of charge and received no compensation for my fair and honest review.

From Goodreads:

For as long as she can remember, seventeen-year-old Princess Andromeda has done what was expected of her. She consented to a political marriage to a hateful older man. She became a quiet, obedient housewife. After her husband’s death, she agreed to be united in yet another political marriage for the sake of her country’s stability.

However, when the Greek goddess of the sea disrupts this second wedding ceremony, jealous of the pomp of the celebration, she places a curse on Andromeda and her home: either sacrifice the princess to a sea beast or let the creature destroy her country. A visit to the Oracle reveals that Andromeda needs four ancient weapons of the Greek gods to fight off the beast and the goddess who controls it.

Now Andromeda must find the strength and the cunning to do what she has never done before — to fight for her own life — while keeping the well-meaning “hero” Perseus out of her way.

I am extremely excited to be writing this review. If you’ve been around this blog for a while, you’ve seen many mentions of my bestie Meg of Myth-illogical. This is her book! Yay! I’m so glad to be able to share with you all my love of this book. I’ve loved it for years, but next month it will finally be available for all to read. Meg isn’t my friend that just happened to write a book – she is a (great!) writer that became my friend (we met at a creative writing group of which we two were the youngest and instantly bonded over our love of Harry Potter and love/hate of Twilight).

So let’s get to the business where I tell you how awesome Andromeda is!

From the get-go, information, description, dialogue, and voice are all balanced to paint a vivid picture of every scene. It felt like I had a movie playing in my head, a movie that was funny, interesting, and exciting. No dialogue or description felt extraneous, I felt the tension of the action scenes, and I simply did not want to put it down (and considering I had read many previous versions, that’s saying something!).

There is a lot of YA involving Greek mythology out there, but I’ve not come across many that are set in the original time period, probably because it’s hard to get right. I know how much research went in to this novel because of this, and it was 100% worth it. I was blown away by how easily I could imagine every place.

A lot of the time, setting is something that is just in the background that I don’t pay much attention to, but in Andromeda the settings almost felt alive. As I mentioned before, the amount of description was just right and made me feel like I was right there with the characters. I have a hard time picking which setting was my favorite, but it’s probably between the Underworld, Medusa’s island, Delphi. I also loved the scenes at the Parthenon, but I’ve been to the replica Parthenon in Nashville many times so I feel like it has an unfair advantage.

Speaking of characters, I love this cast so much. Andromeda is right at the top of favorite YA heroines for me. She is stuck in a terrible situation, and once she breaks free of it, she does absolutely everything in her power to keep that freedom. She refuses to wait around on the “heroes” to save or help her. I loved every moment when she gave a man what-for because she wasn’t being proper, pointing out that she had bigger things to worry about than proprieties. And while being a grade-A bad-ass, she is also caring and compassionate.

Perseus is a character made of more quiet strength than Andromeda. He tries to do what is right, is respectful and sensitive, but when someone he cares for is hurt, watch out! I loved how ready he was to jump into any fray and how, despite being doubted by everyone around him, rose to each occasion. I loved that he was both physically and morally strong without being a macho-tough-guy.

Zeth was probably the most surprising character for me. He comes across as typical of the time-period, valuing heroes and dismissive of anything a woman could offer on something like a dangerous quest. He’s also a poet and his attempts at recording the trio’s adventures were hilarious and so very wrong. I loved his buddy relationship with Perseus and how he and Andromeda bickered every chance they got. He also had the most growth of the characters, and that was really nice to see.

The villain of the story, Amphitrite, is a little on the typical side for a bad guy, but considering she is a Greek goddess, she was right on par for what you’d expect of that lot. But my favorite thing about her was her physical description, which sounds weird, but it was one of the coolest ways to present a character that I’ve ever seen and I loved it.

Beyond the main cast, all of the other characters felt fully-formed, from Andromeda’s friends and family to the various gods and goddesses and monsters. But there is one other character that I can’t go without mentioning because my love for him knows no bounds: Hades. He only has a very small part in this story, but from my very first glimpse of this novel, I have loved Hades. I’ve literally been saying I HEART HADES for years because of this book. I cannot wait to read more of his snarky wit in future novels.

The only minor thing I found while reading this is that Andromeda gets hurt. A lot. Granted, a lot of the injuries happen while she is fighting or something like that, but she’s also very jumpy. Thinking a bit more on it now, it could be because of her life with her first husband, which if so, is really sad and further goes to show how strong she is.

Beyond Hades being the coolest of the cool, I absolutely loved every little wink to Greek mythology, especially when the characters would say something off-hand that referenced the original Perseus myth. Between that, the humor, and the many well-thought out actions scenes, I was giddy while reading this book. It was just so much fun while still being surprising in how it differed from the source material.

If you couldn’t tell by my gushing all over this review, I love this book. The great writing, fantastic settings, action aplenty, and fun twists make this a book not to miss. Andromeda is the epitome of an amazing heroine, being cunning, kind, and feisty simultaneously, and the dynamics between her, Perseus, and Zeth make them a trio I want to adventure with again and again and again.

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