Notes from a Regicide is a heartbreaking story of trans self-discovery with a rich relatability and a science-fictional twist from award-winning author Isaac Fellman.
When your parents die, you find out who they really were.
Griffon Keming’s second parents saved him from his abusive family. They taught him how to be trans, paid for his transition, and tried to love him as best they could. But Griffon’s new parents had troubles of their own � both were deeply scarred by the lives they lived before Griffon, the struggles they faced to become themselves, and the failed revolution that drove them from their homeland. When they died, they left an unfillable hole in his heart.
Griffon’s best clue to his parents� lives is in his father’s journal, written from a jail cell while he awaited execution. Stained with blood, grief, and tears, these pages struggle to contain the love story of two artists on fire. With the journal in hand, Griffon hopes to pin down his relationship to these wonderful and strange people for whom time always seemed to be running out.
In Notes from a Regicide, a trans family saga set in a far-off, familiar future, Isaac Fellman goes beyond the concept of found family to examine how deeply we can be healed and hurt by those we choose to love.
Beautifully written queer literary fiction with a bit of a speculative twist. Not quite what I was expecting, and not entirely my thing stylistically, but a novel I think will resonate with the right audience. Notes from a Regicide is supposed to be a memoir/biography written by a trans man a thousand years in the future about his adoptive trans parents who were revolutionaries.
This is slow-paced, deeply character driven, not always linear, and ferociously queer and trans. Especially with what is happening politically right now in the United States, this feels like an important statement that trans people have always existed and aren't going anywhere. It's not an easy book- characters deal with oppression, abuse, addiction, mental health struggles and more. And yet in the midst of everything they find love and joy and ways to live more fully into themselves. While I sometimes found this book to be too slow for my taste and sometimes confusing in terms of the timeline, I love what it's doing and suspect that it's going to somebody's new favorite book. The audio narration is well done, and thankfully we get different voices for the narrator and the pieces written by his father before he died. I received an audio review copy via NetGalley, all opinions are my own.
This was a lot more literary sci-fi than I thought it'd be, which unfortunately, isn't really my thing. But I know some of my friends and mutuals would really appreciate this book.
I really liked how this book showed how each of its MCs (Griffon, Etoine, and Zaffre) dealt with their transitions and their trans identities. Each character's journey felt very personal and very real, like I was reading about a friend or an acquaintance's experiences. If not for the soft sci-fi portion, definitely read this if you're looking for trans voices in fiction.
But other than that, I wanted so much more out of the worldbuilding. It's set in the far future, with undead electors who vote in a ruler, and the city state(?) that's mentioned changes names as soon as the new ruler is in power.
There was so much potential with all of this, but instead it's a character study about a couple and their adopted son that could've been written in a contemporary setting without losing anything from the story.
The book does touch on what happened in Etoine and Zaffre's past during the revolution, but it felt very last minute and wasn't enough to whet my appetite. It felt more like set dressing than anything. But then again, I'm the type of person who prefers to read about revolutions instead of the aftermath. If you're more of a lit fic reader, then it might not bother you.
I did like the author's writing though, and I'll definitely check out their previous books.
Thank you to Tor Books and NetGalley for this arc.
3.5 rounded up. Usually I don’t round up for books under 4 stars, but it’s worth noting the ratings for this book got messed up by people 1 starring it before arcs were even available because it’s focused on trans characters.
I think this book as the potential to be a 5 star for someone, just not me, and I’ll fully own that I think part of it is just me. The concept is amazing and I love watching Etoine, Zaffre, and Griffon’s found family come together. It’s always refreshing to see books about older trans people because I feel like media has gotten caught up in only portraying teenagers and young adults. Outside of the trans thing, the story of the revolution is an interesting one and I especially loved the whole concept of the electors.
My issue ultimately comes with the pacing. I found myself getting bored which is not something you really want out of a book under 300 pages. I understand what the author was going for with the pacing being a bit all over the place, but I don’t think it worked. It made the book feel disjointed in a bad way. In retrospect it wasn’t really a slow paced book, but it felt like it while I was reading.
I really like Etoine and Zaffre, but frequently found myself frustrated or bored with Griffon. I liked getting peeks of their found family and domestic life, but by the end of the book felt like I was suffering through Griffon chapters to get back to Etoine.
I would really like more worldbuilding. I have finished the book and still don’t understand exactly where we’re meant to be (alternate New York? New York in the far future?) Stephensport got a decent amount of worldbuilding, but I still don’t feel like I understand where it is, why it exists, or what exactly the electors are no matter how cool they are conceptually.
This book was beautiful and powerful but confusing. Throughout the book I constantly went back and forth between absolutely loving it and not understanding what they were talking about, like I had missed an inside conversation.
This is one of those books that welcomes you into its pages and does not apologize for the messy, raw humanity within. This is not a book you rush through. It’s a book you sit with—one that asks you to slow down, breathe, and feel every bittersweet moment. Fellman has crafted something quietly magnificent here: a hauntingly poetic meditation on grief, trans identity, chosen family, and the stories we inherit. Every line feels like a small incision—sharp, aching, and impossibly full of meaning. Each sentence pulls double duty as both narrative and art.
It’s introspective and intentional, with a scifi backdrop that feels almost incidental. The speculative elements add weight rather than distraction. This world feels like ours, just tilted slightly. This is literary fiction with a speculative edge, and it will hit hard if you let it. It’s not always easy—this is a book about loss, and identity, and trying to make sense of a world that’s never offered easy answers—but it is deeply worth the journey.
At the heart of it is Griffon, and his relationship to his second parents—especially his father, whose journal anchors much of the book. The love here is imperfect and sometimes painful, but it’s real—and it asks hard questions about what we owe to the people who love us, who raise us, who break us and build us back up again.
This is literary fiction with a speculative edge, and it will hit hard if you let it. It’s not always easy—this is a book about loss, and identity, and trying to make sense of a world that’s never offered easy answers—but it is deeply worth the journey.
Beautiful, brutal, and resonant. I closed the final page in awe.
Thanks so much to Storygram Tours and Tor for the complimentary copy. This review is voluntary and all opinions are my own.
Notes from a Regicide by Isaac Fellman is the latest in a contemporary movement of literary novels with light science-fiction or fantasy elements marketed as SFF. While it takes place one thousand years in the future and deals with a revolution, it’s not an action-packed thriller or twisty political drama. Instead, it’s a character study of a young trans journalist named Griffon Keming, who is himself chronicling the stories of his adopted trans parents, Etoine and Zaffre, through Etoine’s diary. As the title suggests, we learn early on that Etoine killed the king of his and Zaffre’s original home city, a place called Stephensport that changes names with each new king and is located in what we’d now call Quebec. As the counter-revolution came to crush this one, Etoine and Zaffre flee to New York City to start a new life. But the full extent of their roles in the doomed revolution is spooled out slowly, over the course of the novel.
The real heart and soul of Notes from a Regicide is in Etoine and Zaffre’s relationship, and how these unlikely parents end up informally adopting the young Griffon and helping him to transition and flee from his abusive father. Etoine and Zaffre are a complicated pair. Both are artists and painters, though Etoine is more famous for portraits of the wealthy and powerful while Zaffre prefers to create avant-garde and abstract work anonymously. Etoine is an alcoholic, while Zaffre suffers from schizophrenia, depression, and suicidal thoughts. While both play their part in the revolution, Etoine is mostly apolitical, while Zaffre is a true believer. Fellman is unflinching in showing us the dark and self-destructive sides of his protagonists; though they are undoubtedly better parents than Griffon’s birth father, they never planned on being parents and manage to stumble through a lot of it less than stellar ways. Their romance is not the dramatic, sweeping romance of a traditional romance novel, nor the agonizing slow-burn of a beloved fanfic; instead it feels real and messy and desperate.
The future setting of Notes from a Regicide is only briefly sketched out; it’s a thousand years into the future, and aside from Stephensports legislative branch being a congress of cryo-gentically preserved immortals, the world is mostly unchanged. The wheels of progress and destruction have turned many times, and humanity now lives without computer technology, television, phones, etc., though there exists black market HRT and relatively advanced medicine. We don’t see much of Stephensports or New York City - instead we’re kept relatively isolated in Etoine and Zaffre’s homes. Griffon isn’t out to tell the story of the revolution or provide any context for his world; he’s just here to work through his feelings towards these two people who he loves and who have shaped him so irrevocably.
While the book grapples with questions of art, revolution, parenthood, addiction, and mental health, there’s no theme more prominent than that of its trans characters. Each of the main three characters has their own complicated relationships to their gender and their sexualities, with each coming to their realization and transition at different points in their lives, with different views on medical transition and even different sexualities. Trans relationships can be difficult in some unique ways; what if one or both partners transition to a gender that the other isn’t attracted to? Notes from a Regicide shows one such complication, as Etoine has to learn to see Zaffre as a woman after she confesses her feelings towards him long before she medically or socially transitions. Etoine writes of discovering a new way of having sex, a romantic notion that plays on both every couple’s feelings that they’ve been the first to discover their kind of love, while also grappling with how queer people - especially when first exploring - need to figure out ways of sex and romance that don’t conform to the normal hetero methods.
I admit that it took some time for the book to click with me; like much of this still-unnamed literary SFF movement, it spends most of its time in the thoughts of its protagonists, with writing both beautiful and sometimes rather solipsistic and insular. But through the slow excavation of this central romance, through difficulties both personal and political, I came to really feel for these characters and even cried a little (something that rarely happens for me in books!) It’s one of the more in-depth examinations of trans identity and queer romance that I’ve ever read; if that itself sounds interesting to you, it’s definitely worth a read. However, it’s a hard book to recommend, and most readers will probably bounce off of it. Its light science fiction elements may still turn off more literary-inclined readers, while the same fact that its future feels so similar to our real world may be unsatisfying for SFF fans. Personally, it worked for me, though I do wish Fellman had fleshed out a little more of the background. I think history may repeat in similar cycles, but I don’t imagine a thousand years in the future to be so similar to now.
All in all, this is a wonderful, emotional story of two damaged and flawed people clinging tightly together through turmoil and danger, and of the kid they have to learn how to help.
Thanks to NetGalley for the advance copy in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts expressed are my own.
Okay, I finished this a couple of days ago and I'm still thinking about it. In fact, it left such an impression on me that I've pre-ordered the hardcover.
I'm not even sure what to say about this story. I see that it's tagged as being Sci-Fi, but it's not really? Other than that it is set in a far-flung future and set in a made up place. Otherwise, I didn't get Sci-Fi vibes from this book at all.
This is really just the story of a family, who found themselves over the years. Griffon ran away from his birth father, who was terrible and abusive, and found a home with Zaffre and Etoine, two married trans artists who had fled their homeland after their intimate involvement with a failed revolution.
It took me a while to get into it, as it jumps around A LOT, from the first person accounts of Griffon to Etoine's journal entries, but once I got into it, I WAS INTO IT.
I found it incredibly moving how Griffon, Zaffre, and Etoine are all trying to do their best for each other, while coming from very different backgrounds and carrying very different traumas. Over the course of the book they all hurt each other in various ways, but their love for each other always comes through.
The ending absolutely wrecked me; it's so beautiful and emotional and just kind of everything.
Also, I listened to the audio and it's narrated by Avi Roque, who I absolutely love as a narrator and who did a phenomenal job of this one.
I have been trying to think about how to review this book since I finished it several days ago, but the themes are so expansive and universal, yet somehow very personal that I don't have a successful pitch. It's speculative fiction with a bit of a post-apocalyptic cli-fi feel in the background... but it's primarily a story about love, gender, art, immigration, and political sedition in an imagined country in a future not hard to believe.
I really liked it, in large part because I found all of the characters fascinating. There's some plot, but it largely exists on the periphery of the character work. Griffon is the primary narrator, telling his father's story and his mother's story through his father's prison diaries and storytelling. It's slice of [a very difficult] life, reflections on finding and creating family, and ruminations on art.
I selected this book on a whim, and found it to be really satisfying in a way I can't quite describe.
Thank you to MacMillan Audio for an ALC for review. Notes From a Regicide is out 4/15/25.
The story begins at the end, which doesn’t mean that either the narrator or the reader is in any way spoiled about how it began. Because that’s the point of it from the beginning.
Griffon Keming is trying to understand who his parents really were before they became his parents, now that their larger-than-life personas are no longer there to get in the way of that knowing. And because they’re gone, and he misses them, he’s trying to process that grief and that absence and memorialize them � at least for himself. Or perhaps in a way that’s JUST for himself, as a way of bringing them back to life one last time.
But he only knew his parents after the point in which they came into each other’s lives, when he was fifteen and they were into their forties. The places and events that made Zaffre and Etoine Keming, and the things that made them famous, were already behind them. Already memories and nightmares that may still have influence but they have no desire to exhume for either the enlightenment or the amusement of their adopted son.
So, in the wake of their passing, in what was once Zaffre and Etoine’s New York City apartment, Griffon discovers the writings his father left behind. An angry, angst-filled, sometimes ranting and raging diary of his decades of sobriety, and a manuscript that Etoine had titled Autoportrait, Blessê in his native language, Stephensportois.
But that autobiography wasn’t so much an autobiography of Etoine as it was an attempt to immortalize Zaffre, the woman he loved so much that, once upon a time, he killed a king for her.
Escape Rating B: There are multiple avenues of approach to Notes from a Regicide. The above was the way I got into this book and found my way through it, but it may tell a different story for each reader.
For some, the most obvious point of entry may be that Griffon, Etoine and Zaffre were all trans, and this is the story of the family they created together out of love and choice. A family that was far from perfect but that worked for them and that nurtured Griffon into a healthy adulthood after a childhood filled with physical and emotional abuse.
It can be interpreted as three broken people who made each other strong in their broken places � which were legion and not limited to Zaffre’s neurodiversity, Etoine’s alcoholism and the mental contortions Griffon forced himself to go through in order to protect his birth father from the consequences of his abuse of his own child. No one comes out of any of those things unscathed.
And then there’s the part that initially caught my curiosity, the question raised by the title. Who was the ruler, and where, and why were they murdered? That’s where the story slips into speculative fiction � somewhere on the border between science fiction and fantasy.
Because Stephensport is one of those places that’s on no map we know, that perhaps may have or will exist in a bit of a fever dream � or a drunken hallucination. And the story of Stephensport is the story of a bloody revolution that arose in paranoia and ended in exile, that brought down a tyranny and ended a dream and a nightmare at the same time.
Exactly how a reader will feel about Stephensport and the rebellion that Etoine accidentally fomented and Zaffre willingly fostered will depend a lot on how much one wants to believe it happened versus just how unreliable a narrator one believes Etoine to be. And I’m not at all sure but fascinated either way.
And if part of that fascination is related to T. Kingfisher’s Sworn Soldier series that begins with the chilling and awesome folkloric horror of What Moves the Dead, set in the equally fictional country of Ruravia, that’s just fine with this reader.
In the end � as it was in the beginning � Notes from a Regicide is two things for certain. It’s a passionate love story between two beautifully damaged people, Zaffre and Etoine, because that’s the way Etoine wrote his Autoportrait. And it’s a son’s last love letter to the parents of his heart.
After the death of his chosen father, Griffon tries to piece together the story of his parents' pasts from the journals he left behind. Having come into their lives later in the game there was much he had missed out on. Through these jumbled pages he uncovers not just details of their romance, their ascent as artists, but just how tangled they were in revolution. It gives him a new lens to consider his own personal story in relation to theirs.
“Notes from a Regicide� is a book I'm still processing. Before I get to the themes and my impressions I think I should address that stylistically it is a bit disjointed, meandering, beyond the switch of perspectives. It was occasionally frustrating. Then something in its epilogue really brings it all together. It is not a case of wishing for a work to spend more time with the editor. It's a cleaver tactic I think writers will appreciate the most.
I suspect there is also a secondary purpose. The material in this book is dark. It's heavy. It's gritty. It's honest. At times it's lyrical, empowering, and endearing. These are deeply flawed characters who don't shy away from who they are. They know their cracks. In one another the three find those who will except every dingy bit of them and see all the beauty buried below.
I can only speak to my experience as far as representation. I personally do not experience many of the issues and am a cisgendered person. However I have known far less extreme depression and those who have had trauma and addictions not too terribly dissimilar from some of those in this tale. For me Zaffre's ability to distinguish and fight with her own brain was a direct hit. We all have a little nagging voice. Some go above and beyond with cruel persistence. It can be exhausting just telling yourself it's brain chemistry talking not logic or reality. That's without having the misfortune of a condition that makes you question reality itself.
This book doesn't fit into one nice little genre box. It's technically sci-fi I suppose. It's speculative. There is another predominant one that I'd rather leave out as it is a mild spoiler. It's a commentary on systems of power. It's a character study on the relationship and roles of gender. I can't even begin to list how many ways it touches on different elements and perspectives within the trans community from dysphoria to medical technology and historical approaches to personal relationship to the act of sex. It's also a book for art lovers. There's a very broad look at the industry and what one must do to make a career. The content of a work is also philosophical discussed be it a statement, a personal passion, commercial, or as per one argument, propaganda.
If there is one small personal disappointment I really would have loved to see more of the world. I wanted to know how everything about the status of industry, technology, social life, and how it all now stood compared to the past. I wanted to know how exactly this setting came to be. I accept it was not the purpose of the book. If anything I applaud the author not to get sidetracked in world building. I just really loved the snippets we were provided. I don't feel a sequel would be appropriate but I have to confess I'd adore a novella exploring these things. After all, with a journalist lead, who knows what types of assignments could be given to him or his colleagues?
I really can't praise this enough even though I know it won't be for everyone. What I find unique and refreshing might seem wayward or overwhelming to others. That doesn't change the fact that it is very rare for me to firmly know that I had to take a pause after reading to even come close to a just review. I will be chewing on this for a while.
(4.5) Isaac Fellman wrote one of my favorite hidden gems in and he's back at it again with this stunning novel.
It's hard to give a really good pitch for this book because the narrative is anything but simple. We follow Griffon as he attempts to piece together his adoptive parents' history as revolutionaries in another, semi-mythical city. Slowly, we see Griffon come of age and transition, and we also see his parents meet and become part of a revolution. The way the two timelines interweave and give hints about each other is masterful, and there are so many juicy themes in the mix - reconciling your parents as full, complex individuals, what happens to the revolutionaries after the revolution, what it means to be trans and transition. This is not a book that goes deep into the politics or worlbuilding - it's meant to take place in a far future that looks a lot like our present, but to me that familiarity coupled with some of the imagery made it feel vaguely steampunk. Instead we follow our characters closely, sometimes frustratingly closely because we never get a sense of what's going on in the wider world, but I think that's the point. It's not about what's actually going on in the world, it's about how these three people deal with that.
I feel like found family has become almost synonymous with "quirky band of misfits" these days, and it was refreshing to read a book that goes way beyond that. It also digs into some conversations within the trans and queer communities, which I also feel like I don't see a lot of in traditionally published novels. And while this book is bleak at times, it also never lingers in its trauma in a way that feels gratuitous and it feels honest about the struggles of its characters in their identities without reducing them or their lives to struggling. This is the kind of book that makes me go "yes, more like this, please". It's fantastic, and I already know I'm going to be lamenting how criminally underread it is for months.
Read this, then read The Breath of the Sun. You're all sleeping on Isaac Fellman.
Despite the strange, futuristic setting and the slowly revealed backstory to the titular regicide, this was much more a literary character study than a sci-fi or an epic story of revolution. All three of the central characters � Griffon, Etoine, and Zaffre� were pulled apart to expose their flaws, their rage, arrogance, and indifference, their struggles with addiction, mental illness, trauma, and repression, their strain and fumbling but earnest attempts to be a family, their tragedy and how they kept living through it. The two aspects that grabbed me the most were the reflection of Griffon as an adult on Etoine and Zaffre’s parenting of him -- the difficulty and in some ways failure to fit a certain idea of family, and the complexities of all three’s experiences/journeys with gender and transition. As Griffon grew from a teenager to an adult, his understanding of his parents and himself deepened, becoming more empathetic, but also unforgiving in a way. There was no doubt to the love within their family. Still, their relationships were also so much them desperately clinging to each other to stay upright, a necessity as much as a choice. And there was no shying away from the difficulty of parenting just because they chose to be a family, especially with all of them fighting so hard with their own struggles and trauma. Then with their transitions and understanding of being trans -- I enjoy the way they navigate societies with different norms for trans people. Stephensport's "acceptance" for trans people that allows for social transition but not medical transition touched on some interesting commentary around policing how people can be trans. Zaffre's and Etoine's different responses to this edict and the effects it had on their journeys were integrated into their characters so well.
I wish Zaffre’s perspective could have been incorporated somehow. She’s fascinating through others' eyes, but I longed for her story through her own. There must have been so much unseen.
Notes from a Regicide by Isaac Feldman is an ambitious and thought-provoking novel that blends political intrigue with philosophical musings. Feldman’s prose is rich and lyrical, and the novel’s exploration of guilt, mental illness, addiction, political revolution, and the transgender experience is riveting in its best moments.
We follow the story of Griffon writing a book about his adoptive parents, both of whom are transgender and supported Griffon through his transition. The parents� history revolves around their time in the fictional city of Stephensport and their central roles in its revolution told through the eyes of Griffon’s father, Etoine. Throughout Griffon’s draft of the book we explore the surreal city, walk through the dark side of addiction fueling creativity, see a first-hand accounting of 3 stories of transition, and experience violent regime change.
Feldman’s writing is rich with emotional depth and full of allegory and metaphor. It’s truly engaging, if not unrelenting. That said, the book’s pacing often falters. It took me 2 months to finish this book because of the intensity; it can be challenging to sit through long reading sessions. There’s a quote from Griffon talking about his publisher’s response to the book-within-a-book along the lines of “beautiful, but exhausting.� This was an apt description of my experience, and with Feldman’s skill I imagine that’s a feature, not a bug.
Overall, Notes from a Regicide is an intriguing read but not without pacing issues. Feldman’s ambition shines through, and readers who enjoy slow-burn, philosophical works swill find it deeply rewarding. However, the poetic and sometimes surreal prose makes it challenging for those seeking a tightly woven narrative.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for a review.
I seldom have the problem that a book is so good that it's difficult to review. Welp.
I read it as an ebook and highlighted more things than I ever have in a fiction book before. Mostly things that were deeply relatable or that felt prescient or that I wanted to remember. A lot of it is that the book has a lot of remarkable little touchstones for what trans culture is, has been, and could be in a distant imperfect future.
It's a perfect book for now since our world is being destroyed around us.
It's also a great book about art and artists, which is probably a better way to sell it to cisgender readers, and about the meaning of art/propaganda. It's a complex book, especially for one that reads so well. It does lean somewhat toward literary fiction in style, so that's something to keep in mind, like something that could be read in AP English at a progressive Charter school.
The main characters Griffon, Etoine, and Zaffre are marvelously created with complex histories largely told in media res. Griffon's story is told more straightforward as he is the primary narrator; secondary, Etoine. Secondary characters are also pretty splendid, especially Marino.
The science-fiction elements are generally light, so that shouldn't put off any readers who don't read the genre. The future times in NYC feel like approximately 1975-1985. The more one knows about trans history, the more this will ring true. Stephensport has an older feel to it by contrast, except for the more fantastic elements, so about 1945 or earlier. Both places clearly exist after a climate crisis that isn't directly referenced.
FWIW, I read the book without ever reading the book blurb, because I knew I would read whatever the author wrote, so I went into reading it blind.
Overall, I know this will be one of my best reads of the year. No contest. Highly recommend.
This one reads to me as a Victorian slow pacing with a lot of early 20th Virginia Wolf literary style, although it's a futuristic dystopian apocalyptic novel. It presents us with three POVs and goes deep into their minds, and emotions give us the plot in a subtle and indirect way. It's a novel that many transgender people will relate to. As I am passionate about writing styles, I found it unique, interesting in format, and how slow it read. Sometimes, I was confused with timelines, but it didn't destroy the narrative. I would say it is a literary novel on the human condition and affliction more than it is a sci-fi. I may not be the target of this one, but I appreciate the writing style. 3 stars 🌟
Born in a female body and mistreated by his father for being a boy, he finds in a transgender couple (artists and with their own damage) the parents he deserves.
"Why do our eyes grow wide with fear? For the sake of seeing everything? No, that doesn't make sense; we see too much already when we are afraid, and our minds have to narrow to make it bearable at all."Ìý
This book feels like it was written in the time that it was set. Much the way you can read something written fifty or five hundred years ago and there are certain things the author takes for granted as something the audience will understand, Fellmen has such a strong grasp on the world he has created that it has the same weight as a true historical record of this post-apocalyptic, reconstructed society. However, Fellmen also provides heavy context clues and the occasional, casually mentioned but vital detail to bring the reader into the world with him.
I found this book to be an enjoyable and fascinating read and will certainly encourage others to read it as well!
This isn't exactly a "trans joy" book, as there is a bit of LGBT-hate from one (or a very few?) side character, but it does present a future world in which gender identity seems a lot more accepted/induces a lot less moral panic than this one.
This is a book to suggest to sci-fi/futurism readers who like unique universes that are slowly revealed. It seems like this is set about 1,000 years in the future, in a NYC that's flooded and operates a lot like Venice, full of canals. The two older characters come from another city to the north (in my mind I put it in or around Quebec, but it's not specified). The day-to-day details aren't explicitly stated: is there electricity? phones? what else is missing? what else is lost? how did that happen? There's certainly room for discussion and speculation, perhaps a good suggestion for a sci-fi book club?
This is a book about deeply flawed people. It is heavy, at times very dark, and deals with subjects many people may choose to avoid. The writing felt disjointed at times, and more than a bit meandering. With all that said... I think this book is really powerful, and even important.
If you are not someone who needs to be careful with triggers and certain subjects... I recommend going in blind and just really taking it all in. While it is considered science fiction, I really felt like the sci-fi and world took a backseat to character development and exploration. It feels more literary fiction than anything else.
This is a book I'm still processing, and will be for a long time.
Thank you to Isaac Fellman, Tor Books, and Netgalley for my advanced copy.
Notes From A Regicide are an assembly of reflections from a transman dealing with the loss of the only family he has ever known and writings of a historical revolution taken up by that man's very family.
it is a somewhat confusing read at the beginning though I feel that is intentional. As the main character's understanding of his foster parents clarify so to does the narrative. Unfortunately, it is quite a slough to get to that point.
Still, there are quite a few impactful scenes and the characters within Griffon's life are quite intense and complex. Stephen and yhe like are unbelievable in their roles. They fidnt feel like real people but rather poetic caricatures.
thank you to NetGalley and Tor Books for providing me with an advance copy of this book to review!
IS this the slowest-paced book of all time? I actively did not enjoy reading this because it went so so slowly, and nothing hit like it should have because of the pacing. the writing is certainly not bad, it just did nothing for me. also, the sci-fi part was unnecessary and just made me more confused. this very easily could have been a novel set in contemporary times.
obviously ignore the dumbass transphobes giving this book one star without actually reading it, but unfortunately this just didn't do it for me. it is verrrry trans though so that may entice you!
This was a fascinating science-fiction set in what is both our future and our past, and it is severely transgender. Also both devastating and hopeful at the same time. Absolutely adored it.
Something special that I doubt could be repeated no matter how hard any author tries. I cried so much, but sometimes the grief was happy to work itself out.