Author: Rose Sparrowking

Recent Did-Not-Finish Books

~ Rose Sparrowking

There was a time when if I opened a book, I finished it. No matter what. Even if I hated it. Even if I resented it. Even if I fantasized about gently placing it in the freezer.

Yes. That sounds ridiculous.

Probably a leftover habit from reading required books in school, where “DNF” was not an option and SparkNotes did not count as literary engagement.

Fortunately, I have reformed.

I was briefly part of a Facebook book group for women of a certain vintage (read: my age). One woman posted something like:
“I’m on chapter 15 of such-and-such. How much longer before it gets good?”

Chapter fifteen.

Friend… why are we negotiating with a book?

If you’re not enjoying it in the first few pages — let alone the first few chapters — close it. Set it free. Move on.

There. Are. So. Many. Books.

I work part-time at our small-town library. We don’t have the budget of a big city system, and yet the number of new books that arrive each month is staggering. Truly. They just keep coming.

I look at the stacks and think: I will never read all of you.

And that’s okay.

Now I browse with freedom. I look at the cover. I read the blurb. If something sparks, I take it home. If it doesn’t? Back it goes.

I can rule out whole categories at the moment — though that’s always subject to change. I love fantasy, but I’m taking a break. I rarely read horror or westerns. I don’t generally reach for historical romance (or much romance at all). And I’m steering clear of hard-core murder mysteries. The world is ugly enough right now. My heart needs a softer place to land.

Last month, I stumbled onto a few delightful surprises. This month? A couple of flops.

Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid. I was genuinely excited about this one. I have a bit of a hit-or-miss relationship with Taylor Jenkins Reid. When she works for me, she really works. So, I went in hopeful.

But the interview-style format just didn’t land. I never sank into the story. I never forgot I was reading. Instead of disappearing into the world, I felt like I was flipping through transcripts.

I gave it a couple of chapters. I tried. I wanted to like it. But sometimes it’s just a nope.

The Kamogawa Food Detectives by Hisashi Kashiwai
What You Are Looking For Is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama

While I’m waiting (impatiently) for the next Inspector Gamache to make its way to our library, I decided to branch out.

Both of these sounded charming. Short. Cozy. Gentle stories. And — very importantly — cats on the covers.

Cats trump all.

But… neither one hooked me.

Part of it may be the translation. The sentences felt slightly awkward, just enough to keep me aware of the writing instead of the story. And I never quite sensed that anyone needed to change. Without that pull, that something-at-stake, the events felt pleasant but weightless.

I kept waiting to care more. I didn’t.

So, two more nopes.

And back to waiting for Inspector Gamache.

There are too many good books in the world to spend time with the wrong ones. Onward to the next.

Tacking the TBR for January 2026

~ Rose Sparrowking

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid. I’ve read Malibu Rising and Atmosphere by Reid, and while her writing is phenomenal and her characters complex, something about those books never quite worked for me—perhaps the plots. So I approached The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo with hesitation.

I nearly put it down early on because Monique never felt like she had much narrative drive; she seemed more an observer than a participant, carried along by Evelyn’s story. That never fully changed for me. While Monique is stronger by the end, her arc feels secondary, raising the question of whether she is truly the protagonist at all—or whether that role belongs to Evelyn. And if so, would Evelyn have been capable of change without wealth and fame?

Despite these reservations, I did enjoy the book in the end. Evelyn is undeniably fascinating—a woman who embodies strength, ambition, and fierce loyalty to those she loves, unburdened by many of the anxieties that so often constrain women. Would I want to be her? Absolutely not. But she is a character worth learning from. This novel convinced me to read Reid again.

Still Life, A Fatal Grace, The Cruelest Month — Louise Penny’s Chief Inspector Armand Gamache series. I’d never read them, despite having shelved them countless times at the library over the years. As a fan of Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch, I finally decided to give Inspector Gamache a try. These books are beautiful. The language is beautiful. The art and poetry references are beautiful. The mysteries are properly convoluted and surprising, and the characters are interesting and complex. Ruth Zardo has to be my favorite.

My one small complaint is that I always have to wait too many chapters before Gamache arrives. And because my library didn’t have the fourth book, I had to request it from another library — and with the snow we’ve had recently, I’ve been forced to read other books while I wait. Such hardship.

Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books by Kirsten Miller. Loved it. Funny and truthful. Nazis and Critical Race Theory, drag queens and cheerleaders, good ol’ boys and a movie star. It’s a satire that throws every stereotyped Southerner into the same story and somehow comes out the other side with something hopeful and humane.

Some of my favorite quotes: “When you have everything, the only luxury left is taking things away from others,” and “Stories are the most powerful things in this world. They can mend broken hearts, bring back good memories, and make people fall in love,” and “Gather as much knowledge as you can, because information is power. And choosing how to use it is freedom. The more you know, the freer you will be.”

I now have a new list of books to read from the banned titles referenced in the novel. I’ve read some of them—though maybe they deserve a refresh—and many I haven’t read at all. I was genuinely disappointed to discover that All Women Are Witches: Find Your Power and Put It to Use doesn’t actually exist. I wanted to read that one.

I’d also argue that most people banning books haven’t bothered to open them. During the 2024–2025 school year, PEN America recorded 6,870 instances of book bans across 23 states and 87 public school districts.

Our library—and I personally—stand against book banning. You can decide what your own children read (though rebels will defy you and read anyway), but you don’t get to decide what other children will read.

The Busybody Book Club by Freya Sampson. Any book that can logically bring up Star Wars, Shakespeare and Bridgerton has my vote for a great read. This was such a fun mystery! Great twists. Characters to hate and to love. Romance and book clubs. And a wardrobe I’m jealous of. 🙂

Murder Runs in the Family by Tamara Berry. Everyone was a suspect at one point or another and I had no idea how it was going to come together at the end, but it was a fun ride getting there.

2026 Reading Challenges

~ Rose Sparrowking

I read 28 new books in 2025. That doesn’t sound like much, but I also re-read many old favorites. Some books have become comfort food in a sense. When I’m stressed or worried (which is frequent) or I can’t sleep (also frequent), I re-read books I know well. If I fall asleep, it’s okay. If I stop and move onto something else, it’s okay—I’ve read them before. My comfort reads usually involve Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch series or L. E. Modesitt, Jr.’s Corean Chronicles.

I decided to keep my 2026 reading challenge simple: fifty new books. I read that much and more, but I need to focus on new-to-me books and get out of the rut of reading the same thing over and over. I’m on Goodreads if you want to see what I’m reading. I rarely review, which is a change for another New Year. I always have my phone with me, even when working at the library, so it’s quick to add yet another book to the TBR list!

Do you more of a reading challenge for 2026? Here are 4 for you to try:

2026 NoveList Reading Challenge. ‘For the 2026 Novelist Reading Challenge, we’re inviting your library and your patrons to join us on a journey of reading exploration to “Find What You Like.”‘ “NoveList Plus is the premiere database of reading recommendations, available through libraries around the world presenting fiction, nonfiction, and audiobooks and includes expert recommendations, reviews, articles, lists, and more.” See if your library offers this database. Their 2026 challenges encourages you to read a different genre per month to find what you like. For January, the challenge is to read a science-fiction novel.

Book Riot’s 2026 Read Harder Challenge. I wish you didn’t have to subscribe to Book Riot for complete access. You didn’t have to in the past but with the economy as it is… First challenge: Read a microhistory. I would need to look up what that is and what books are recommended.

Boston Public Library is doing a Winter Reading Challenge. “This winter, the Boston Public Library is challenging you to read a book by an author from each of six geographic regions: Africa, the Americas, Asia, Europe, the Middle East, and Oceania.” This one looks like fun! I’m always reading authors from the USA or the UK. Another perspective would be fascinating.

Massachusetts Center for the Book. 12 Months. 12 Books. Nice and easy. You have the chance to win free books! Woo! January’s challenge: read a book about or set in winter.

Can you guess what state I live in? Hahaha!

Let me know if you’re planning a 2026 reading challenge and what it entails!

Tackling my TBR pile this month

~ Rose Sparrowking

I’ve got dozens of books languishing in my Kindle’s TBR pile—most from Amazon’s Prime First Reads—and I’ve been guilt-tripping myself about it while rereading old favorites for the hundredth time. Most of these books are by authors unknown to me, so I’m taking chances on each one.

I don’t want to waste time on books that aren’t clicking, but I also want to give unknown authors a fair shot. My plan is to give a book 2 chapters and then quit and move to the next if I’m not enjoying it.

Let’s see how many I can actually get through this month!

1.Ten Thousand Light Years From Okay by Tracy Dobmeier and Wendy Katzman

“A widowed and grieving young novelist believes her words create realities—both tragic and charmed—in a hopeful and surprising novel about family, newfound love, and moving on.”

I almost bailed on this one. Thea felt shallow at first, obsessing over her outfit for preschool drop-off, and the opening was heavy on backstory without much forward momentum. Usually that’s my cue to toss a book into my “Books that suck” collection and move on. But I stuck with it, and I’m glad I did. The story transformed into something beautiful and emotional about living with and through grief. It actually got to me. I might even reread it to see if those early chapters bother me less now that I know where it’s going.

Verdict: Kept reading past chapter 2—and finished it.

2. Slow Horses by Mark Herron

“Welcome to the thrilling and unnervingly prescient world of the slow horses. This team of MI5 agents is united by one common bond: They’ve screwed up royally and will do anything to redeem themselves.”

I love the Apple TV show, but like the show, this book starts slow. The opening is fantastic—River Cartwright’s operation goes spectacularly wrong, and then… did he really just get blown up!? But then it grinds to a halt with scene after scene introducing every person working at Slough House. Pure info dump.

I put it down once, picked it up again to give it a fair shot, and didn’t get pulled into the story until about the quarter mark. I imagine the sequels won’t suffer from this bland setup, but I’m not sure I’ll stick around to find out.

That said, Herron’s writing is lovely—almost poetic—while keeping the descriptions relevant to the story. That’s what kept me going.

Verdict: Finished but I doubt I’ll ever re-read it or read any more of the series

3. Tea & Alchemy by Sharon Lynn Fisher

“A tea leaf reader in nineteenth-century England falls in love—and in danger—with a reclusive alchemist.”

I’ve been in a cozy-reading mood lately, so I was looking forward to this historical vampire fantasy. Unfortunately, it reads very much like a Dracula fanfic. Mina is simple and sweet, yet somehow the smartest person in any room—including the studious vampire himself. Naturally, the vampire doesn’t want to be evil; killing people for sweet, sweet blood is a terrible burden. Mina’s blood, of course, is the sweetest of all, thanks to her descent from an ancient people responsible for the vampires’ existence. And naturally, only she can fix everything.

As long as you take it for a fluffy read, it’s enjoyable.

Verdict: finished but unlikely to be read again.

When AI Feedback Triggers a Shame Spiral (And What I Learned on the Other Side)

~ Rose Sparrowking

I planned a DIY writing retreat this weekend. It derailed before it even started—but not for the reasons I expected.

I should have left home, even just for a local hotel. Instead, I stayed put, surrounded by laundry and that damn knotweed that’s plagued my yard for years. (As an aside: I hate using chemicals, but this knotweed has beaten every other approach.) But household distractions weren’t the real derailment.

Claude Sonnet 4.5 was.

The Setup

I’ve been working on an old fanfiction story—something I started years ago and never finished. Since I haven’t completed anything since abandoning it, finishing this seemed like a way to break through the barrier and get my mojo back. I’ll never publish it commercially, so it felt like a safe playground for experimenting with AI writing tools.

I’ve tried several: ChatGPT for brainstorming and editing, Midjourney for fun (though I’m really about the writing), and Claude for fiction feedback. They’ve all been helpful in different ways.

But Claude Sonnet 4.5 turned out to be something else entirely.

The Feedback That Broke Me

Yesterday evening, I asked Claude to review a scene. The feedback was so devastating that I had to shut down my computer and walk away. I spent a sleepless night spiraling, and only now—24 hours later—am I coming to terms with what I experienced.

Here’s what I’d written: A traumatized teen goes to a party, gets drunk, and is slipped LSD. The consequence? The psychedelics open his mind to new magical powers. Great plot twist, I thought.

Nope.

Here’s part of Claude’s feedback: “This is not just ‘showing an impulsive teen’—this is romanticizing drug use as a solution to problems and a path to empowerment. For a fanfic that will likely be read by young people, this sends an extremely dangerous message.”

Cue my shame spiral.

Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, how had I never seen this? Am I shallow? Stupid? I should trash this story. I should never write again. I’m a degenerate. There’s something wrong with me…

And so on.

The Long Walk

After a sleepless night of self-flagellation, I went for a long walk this morning. I needed to move my body, to think—or rather, to listen. I downloaded a podcast where two women discuss a chapter from Brené Brown’s Atlas of the Heart, focusing on shame, guilt, humiliation, and embarrassment.

First: Brené Brown wants everyone to know that shame is universal. And shame is different from guilt.

With guilt, you feel you did something bad. With shame, you feel you are bad.

With guilt, you can take action—fix the mistake, examine what led to it, prevent it from happening again. Guilt, after the initial sting, can move you forward.

But shame is a painful assault on yourself. Judgment. Secrecy. Silence.

Oh yes. I wanted to withdraw. Destroy my story. Never write again. Never tell anyone what a horrible, thoughtless person I am. How lacking in critical thinking.

The walk helped. So did naming what I was feeling: I am ashamed of myself. And that’s a normal human experience. That alone—just recognizing it—made me feel better.

Then I tried to look at what I actually did, without judgment. (This is very difficult for me.) What did I do? I wrote a plot point that I thought drove the story forward, without considering its implications for the character or readers, especially vulnerable ones.

But—and this matters—because I used this AI, the problem was caught before any reader was harmed by my poor choice.

I also learned something crucial: words have meaning, and I need to think critically about my choices.

And I have a tool that can help me watch for these problems.

The Lessons

There’s more to work through. I’ll be journaling about this for a while: practicing self-compassion instead of judgment, being mindful, learning to observe without attacking myself.

So many lessons.

Here’s one that keeps surfacing, from Ted Lasso: “Be curious. Not judgmental.” (Which, as it turns out, is not actually a Walt Whitman quote.)

I could write about meditation, Stoicism, Buddhism, mindfulness—they all express this idea in some form. But all that knowledge comes from reading, not practicing.

Now I need to practice curiosity and let go of judgment.

Moving Forward

As for my writing weekend? I don’t know how much actual writing will get done. I’m taking a critical look at the story to see if it’s salvageable—and I think it is. The core story is sound; it’s this one plot point that needs rethinking. Maybe the magical awakening happens differently. Maybe there are real consequences to the party scene. Maybe I need to sit with it longer and let curiosity, not shame, guide the revision.

I’m still stuck on this idea that I won’t move forward to new material until I finish this story. The only way out is through.

What I know now: getting feedback that exposes your blind spots is gutting. The shame is real and it hurts. But on the other side of that shame—if you can sit with it, name it, and separate who you are from what you did—there’s growth. There’s the chance to do better.

And yes, I’ll be signing up for a paid Claude.AI account. Not just because it writes well, but because it asks hard questions.

Sometimes that’s exactly what we need.

Failure Isn’t the End: Lessons from Creative Projects That Don’t Take Off

~ Rose Sparrowking

We don’t talk enough about failure. Not the big, dramatic kind, but the quieter, everyday kind that shows up when a project you’ve poured your heart into fizzles out. It’s discouraging. It can feel like proof that maybe you weren’t meant to be creative after all.

But here’s the truth: failure isn’t the opposite of success. It’s part of the process. And sometimes, what looks like a dead end is really just a detour toward something richer.

Every Project Teaches Us Something

Not every project becomes the next great novel, business, or TV show. But every project teaches us something. Even the ones that don’t “go anywhere” leave behind skills, practice, and lessons we carry forward.

The creators of Ted Lasso know this well. They had other projects that didn’t take off, pilots that never aired, and scripts that never got past the pitch. But the work wasn’t wasted. Each effort sharpened their skills, deepened their creativity, and built the trust and relationships that eventually brought Ted Lasso to life.

The same is true for all of us.

My Own “Failed” Story

When my children were little—before they went to school, when I was home all day and starved for adult conversation—I wrote a story. It was fantasy, full of magic, romance, and all the things I loved escaping into. I wrote more than 100,000 words.

And then I stopped.

It was fanfiction, and I felt embarrassed by it. I told myself I’d write “real” stories instead. But I didn’t. Not despite all the NaNoWriMos I signed up for, the writing group I started, the books I read, or the endless ways I talked about wanting to be a writer.

Looking back, I see where I failed: I stopped having fun. I let shame steal the joy from my writing. And without joy, the work fell flat.

It took me years to find my way back. But lately, I’ve returned to that very story. I’ll never share it—it’s laughably terrible in so many ways—but I am having fun again. I rediscovered the spark that first made me love writing. And that’s worth everything.

Resilience Is Built Through the Hard Stuff

Failure hurts. But it also shapes us. Each unfinished project, each setback, teaches resilience—not as in “powering through” but in being gentle with ourselves when things don’t turn out as we hoped.

That gentleness is what Ted Lasso himself embodies. He loses games, he gets knocked down, he struggles. But he never stops showing up, and he never stops believing in the possibility of something better.

Connections Matter More Than Outcomes

Another gift of “failed” projects is the people we meet along the way. Collaborators, writing partners, critique groups—sometimes those connections last longer than the project itself. And sometimes, they become the very team we need for the next success.

Just like the Ted Lasso creators built something remarkable by talking, brainstorming, and trusting each other, our own creative paths are enriched when we share them with others.

Seeds for the Next Success

Unfinished stories, half-done paintings, abandoned drafts—they’re not wasted. They’re seeds. Pieces of them will show up in your next work, and the next, often in surprising ways.

That fantasy fanfiction I wrote years ago? Even if no one else reads it, it’s feeding my current writing. The characters, the energy, even the mistakes—it all matters. Nothing is wasted.

Keep Creating

Failure isn’t the end of the story. It’s just part of the journey. Every project—finished or not—teaches, shapes, and prepares us for what comes next.

So if you’ve set something aside, don’t feel ashamed. Don’t tell yourself it was wasted. And if joy feels far away, maybe it’s time to circle back to what first made you fall in love with creating.

Because sometimes, the measure of success isn’t the applause at the end. It’s the fun we have along the way.

As Ted might say: keep showing up. Keep trying. And above all, believe.

This blog post was created with assistance from ChatGPT, an AI developed by OpenAI. The ideas and perspectives are my own, but I used ChatGPT to support the writing, editing, and refinement process.

Why Great Ideas Never Die: The Long Road from Inspiration to Reality

~ Rose Sparrowking

Lately, I’ve found myself reaching for comfort TV—something positive, kind, and hopeful. For me, that’s been rewatching Ted Lasso. In a world where the headlines feel heavy, this show feels like a breath of fresh air, reminding me that kindness, humor, and belief can carry us through the hardest of times.

And as I’ve been reading Believe: The Untold Story Behind Ted Lasso, the Show That Kicked Its Way into Our Hearts by Jeremy Egner, one idea has struck me again and again: great ideas don’t die.

The Ted Lasso we know today—the one with biscuits, locker room speeches, and that iconic yellow “BELIEVE” sign—took years to come to life. The idea lingered with its creators, never fading, always waiting for its moment.

It makes me wonder: maybe the ideas that stay with us are the ones we’re meant to see through.

Great Ideas Hang Around

Not every idea sticks. Some come in a flash and fade just as quickly. But every once in a while, an idea takes root somewhere deeper. It nags at you in the best way—showing up in daydreams, conversations, or those quiet moments before you fall asleep.

These are the seeds worth paying attention to. They may not sprout overnight, but they stay alive under the surface, biding their time until the right conditions appear.

The Long Road Isn’t Wasted

The story of Ted Lasso reminds us that delay isn’t failure. An idea that takes years to become reality isn’t weaker for the wait—it’s often stronger. Sometimes we need time to grow into the person who can bring the idea to life. Sometimes the world needs time to be ready to receive it.

The long road teaches us persistence. It shapes us. And when the idea finally blooms, all those years of waiting and working give it depth and heart.

The Power of People and Positivity

Another truth I love: creativity rarely happens in isolation. The Ted Lasso team found each other, and in talking through their ideas, refining them, and leaning on one another, the show became richer.

Kindness and collaboration invite creativity. When we gather with the right people—people who encourage, listen, and share our belief—our ideas grow stronger. Just as Ted built a team by lifting others up, our own dreams flourish when we surround ourselves with the right community.

Keeping the Faith

There’s a reason that simple, hand-drawn “BELIEVE” sign resonates so deeply. It’s not just about winning a football match—it’s about keeping faith when the outcome isn’t certain.

Belief in your idea doesn’t always mean shouting it from the rooftops. Sometimes it’s quieter: writing one more page, sketching one more design, talking it through one more time with a trusted friend. It’s the daily choice to treat your idea with patience and kindness, even when no one else can see it yet.

An Invitation to You

So if there’s an idea that’s been following you around for months, years, maybe even decades—don’t dismiss it. Don’t tell yourself it’s too late. Great ideas don’t die. They wait. They grow. And when the time is right, they find their way into the world through you.

In the meantime, nurture it. Believe in it. And most importantly, believe in yourself.

Because as Ted himself might remind us: a little optimism, a little kindness, and a lot of belief can take us farther than we ever imagined.

This blog post was created with assistance from ChatGPT, an AI developed by OpenAI. The ideas and perspectives are my own, but I used ChatGPT to support the writing, editing, and refinement process.

When You Want to Speak Up, But Don’t

~ Rose Sparrowking

Sunday was hard.

I’ve been part of a writing community that explores the use of A.I. in the writing world. It intrigued me, even though I was hesitant. I’ve been burned before—forums that start with friendly chatter and end in weird, predatory energy. The last time I tried to connect on NaNoWriMo’s boards, a seemingly normal writing chat took a dark turn. I left quietly. Not long after, the forums were shut down.

So this time, I stepped in slowly. The community was mostly men, at least judging by the usernames, but there were women, too—engaged, thoughtful ones. I thought, Maybe this space will be different. Maybe it’ll be safe.

And maybe it is. I don’t know. Because I left.

Here’s what happened: I got the community’s weekly roundup email. The top post of the week caught my eye, so I clicked through.

It was a full copy-paste of a Story Grid article by Tim Grahl. No link. No commentary. Just: “Here’s a good post I saved for the community.”

My stomach dropped.

For those unfamiliar, Story Grid is a respected resource. It’s also a business. Yes, they offer free content, but they also sell courses and books. Copying an article wholesale, without a link or permission, doesn’t just violate copyright—it erodes trust in the writing ecosystem.

We’re writers. We live and die by the integrity of our words. We should be the first to recognize when someone else’s work is being mishandled.

I waited. Maybe someone would say something. A moderator, perhaps.

No one did.

And neither did I.

I hovered over the report button. But the dropdown options didn’t really apply. I considered leaving a comment but felt a familiar sense of dread: What if I speak up and become a target?

I chickened out. Or I protected myself. It depends on how you look at it.

Here’s why I didn’t speak up:

  1. I’ve seen what happens to women who confront unethical behavior online. I’ve lived it. And I didn’t have the energy to fight that battle.
  2. The reporting system didn’t support what I needed to say.
  3. I doubted myself. Am I overreacting?
  4. I hate confrontation. My cousin thinks arguing is fun. I find it anxiety-inducing. I’ve learned to disengage to protect my peace.
  5. I wasn’t sure it would make a difference. Would I change minds? Or just make myself miserable?

After a long walk and a lot of reflection, I left the community.

I’m still not sure I made the right call. I feel sad. I wanted that space to be a place I could learn, connect, and grow. But I couldn’t stay quiet and also feel okay staying. And I wasn’t ready to make noise.

Maybe next time, I’ll be braver. Maybe next time, I’ll speak up.

But for now, I’m letting myself mourn a little. And that’s okay, too.

Favorite Links of the Week

~ Rose Sparrowking

How Readers React to Reactions by Donald Maass. It felt like Donald Maass was speaking directly to me in this article. I often rely on physical reactions or internal dialogue to show what a character feels—but as writers, our real job is to make readers feel. Emotional engagement is what hooks readers and keeps them invested. I’m still learning how to do that, but Donald offers a clear, practical example of one powerful way to make it happen.

The 3 Writing Exercises That Instantly Leveled Up My Writing A YouTube video from Story Lab. These are some of the most practical, immediately useful writing exercises I’ve come across—I watched it several times and took notes. Highlights include: using the Snowflake Method to generate vivid details (why haven’t I been using this more?), writing scenes that engage all five senses (smell is going to be tricky), and crafting dialogue by fully stepping into the speaker’s perspective. Highly recommended.

And a non-writing one: Sticky Chickpeas from Naturallie Plant-Based. Quick, tasty, and surprisingly satisfying. I’m not vegan or vegetarian, but I am always looking for easy ways to get more veggies into my meals—without spending hours in the kitchen or using every pan I own. This one took just 25 minutes, start to finish, served with rice, steamed broccoli, and a sprinkle of peanuts on top. Definitely going into the rotation.

Book Review: Flavia de Luce 11

~ Rose Sparrowking

What Time the Sexton’s Spade doth Rust: A Flavia de Luce Novel by Alan Bradley

A Turning Point in the Beloved Series

There’s been ongoing debate in the mystery community about what constitutes a “cozy” mystery. Recently, I encountered someone describing the Flavia de Luce novels as belonging to this subgenre, which gave me pause. When I think of cozies – those mysteries I regularly shelve at the library – I picture titles with punny references to baking disasters or amateur sleuths who run cat cafés. The Flavia series has always felt different, occupying a unique space between the light-hearted charm of cozies and something darker.

This distinction has never been more apparent than in What Time the Sexton’s Spade doth Rust. To put it in perspective, I’m currently reading Ramona Emerson’s “Exposure,” which opens with the devastating murder of six children, including an infant – a book I frequently need to step away from due to its brutal realism. While Flavia’s latest adventure doesn’t venture into such explicitly dark territory, it marks a significant departure from the series’ earlier tone.

For the first time in my journey with these books, I found myself setting this one aside halfway through, not returning to it for weeks. The issue wasn’t graphic content or disturbing themes, but rather a growing dissonance that I could no longer ignore. The willing suspension of disbelief that allowed me to accept Flavia as a 13-year-old sleuth who commands adult respect finally crumbled. No matter how brilliant or precocious she may be, the cognitive dissonance of her age versus her role in these investigations has become increasingly difficult to reconcile.

Bradley’s signature elements are all present: the clever dialogue, the fascinating chemistry details, and the richly drawn world of Buckshaw and its surroundings. The previous installment had left me hopeful, with promising developments including:

  • The establishment of Dogger and Flavia’s detective agency
  • The blossoming relationship between Flavia and Undine
  • Potential for healing in Flavia’s complicated relationship with Inspector Hewitt

However, this latest entry seems to have taken a darker turn that overshadows these positive developments. While the series has never shied away from serious themes, something about this installment feels different – as if we’ve reached a crossroads where the charming eccentricity of earlier books has given way to something more sobering.

The book’s title, drawn from old folklore about death omens, proves sadly appropriate. It marks what may be my departure point from a series I’ve long cherished. The previous book had left me with a sense of optimism about Flavia’s future adventures. This one, however, opens what feels like a portal to a darker version of her world – one I’m not certain I wish to explore further.

Long-time readers of the series will find familiar pleasures in Bradley’s prose and his young protagonist’s sharp wit. However, they may also notice, as I did, that something fundamental has shifted. It’s not that the book is poorly written or that the mystery itself fails to engage. Rather, it’s that the delicate balance between youthful adventure and adult themes that characterized the earlier books has tipped, perhaps irretrievably, toward the latter.

Final Thoughts

While “What Time the Sexton’s Spade doth Rust” maintains the technical proficiency we’ve come to expect from Bradley, it may represent a turning point for many readers. The question becomes not whether the book is well-crafted, but whether this new direction serves the series’ strengths. For this reader, at least, it may be time to bid farewell to Flavia while I can still cherish the memories of her earlier adventures.

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Not because of any failure in craft, but because sometimes growing up means growing apart.

This blog post was written with assistance from Claude, an AI created by Anthropic. While the ideas and content are my own, I used Claude to help with writing, editing, and refining the text.