Review: Blood on Her Tongue by Kirsty Logan

I approached Blood on Her Tongue with high expectations, hoping for a deeper, more unsettling take on vampire mythology. Unfortunately, what I found was a novel that promises much but never quite delivers. While it is certainly atmospheric and the prose can be haunting, the story itself lacks the depth and complexity I crave in a vampire novel.

The protagonist, a woman struggling with monstrous urges, is intriguing in theory but ultimately falls flat. There is an intimacy in Logan’s portrayal of hunger, but it is more poetic than meaningful. I want to feel the tension of a vampire battling their nature, but here, it is mostly an excuse for overly descriptive passages that often slow the pacing to a crawl. The writing is lush, but it leans too heavily into atmosphere rather than building real tension or giving the characters any true emotional depth.

The treatment of the vampire mythos is where this novel really lost me. There is an attempt at reimagining the classic vampire story, but it feels more like surface-level experimentation than an evolution of the myth. The vampire lore is muddled and, rather than offering new insights or deepening the horrors inherent in vampirism, the book becomes bogged down in metaphor and mood. The result is a hollow version of the myth that never really delves into what it means to be a vampire in the way that I would expect.

The characters also never truly rise to the occasion. The protagonist is more of a vessel for the story’s atmosphere than a fully realised person with inner conflict. I never got the sense that her struggles were anything more than narrative devices to prop up the book’s aesthetic, and the supporting characters feel just as disposable. This lack of depth in the people you are meant to care about makes the whole book feel more like an exercise in style over substance.

Overall, Blood on Her Tongue lacks the bite I was hoping for. It is more style than substance, more mood than meaning. If you are looking for a vampire novel with rich mythology, complex characters, and psychological depth, this one might leave you feeling empty.

Review: The Witches of Cambridge by Menna van Praag

I approached The Witches of Cambridge with anticipation for a story that would honour the depth and authenticity of witchcraft, but what I found was a novel that, while engaging, does not fully deliver on the raw mysticism and power I had hoped for.

The premise itself holds promise: a group of witches living in a university town, each possessing their own unique magical abilities. However, much of the story feels as though it revolves around human drama rather than the exploration of witchcraft as a central, untameable force. Magic in this book often comes across as a tool for navigating personal struggles rather than as a profound, transformative aspect of the characters’ lives.

The narrative devotes much of its energy to interpersonal relationships, exploring family dynamics, love, and personal growth. While this approach may work for some readers, I found it distracting from the essence of witchcraft itself. The witches’ powers are often treated as secondary to their emotional journeys, which ultimately weakens the sense of magic as something greater than mere personal development. The magic is occasionally intriguing, such as when it is used to reveal secrets or navigate difficult situations, but it never feels like a driving force of the plot—it is more of a background element, rarely at the forefront.

What disappointed me most was the missed opportunity to delve deep into the craft itself. Magic, when it does appear, feels almost like an accessory—something to help resolve a problem or advance the plot, rather than something that shapes the characters’ lives and decisions. There is little exploration of the history, rituals, or the true weight of magic, leaving it feeling more like a supernatural gimmick than an authentic part of the witches’ identities.

Another frustration lies in the way the supernatural elements are incorporated into what could easily have been a conventional story. The witches’ powers sometimes feel like an afterthought, added into an otherwise human-centric narrative. The magic is there, but it does not hold the gravitas or mystery that one might expect in a tale centred on witchcraft. Instead, it often becomes secondary to human conflict and emotional resolutions.

In conclusion, The Witches of Cambridge is a novel with charm, but it does not fully capture the essence of witchcraft in the way I had hoped. For those of us who crave a deeper, more authentic exploration of magic and its complexities, this book may leave something to be desired. The witches here feel too human, too caught up in their personal stories, and not nearly connected enough to the ancient, unyielding force that witchcraft should represent.

Review: Aphrodite by Phoenicia Rogerson

Phoenicia Rogerson’s Aphrodite offers an interesting, if not entirely successful, reimagining of the goddess of love, beauty, and desire. From the outset, it’s clear that the author isn’t interested in giving us a deep dive into Aphrodite’s inner world. Instead, the book reads like a collection of brief observations from an outsider—a storyteller who is simply reporting what they’ve seen or heard rather than truly understanding the goddess. This approach creates a strange sense of detachment, which unfortunately undermines the portrayal of Aphrodite herself.

The tone of the book is perhaps its most jarring aspect. The chapters are short, the dialogue is often brief and informal, and at times, Aphrodite’s voice feels completely disconnected from her divine nature. There are moments where she comes across as almost vapid and entirely human, which is difficult to reconcile with her mythological significance. For example, on page 318, she casually remarks, “Sorry, darling, I just realised I have a terrible hair emergency and I need to run home.” Lines like this—and her frequent sign-offs with “Hugs and Kisses”—make it hard to take her seriously as a goddess, let alone as a figure of real divine power.

This sense of humanisation is reinforced throughout the book. On page 95, there’s a “Goddess to-do list” that includes an instruction to “Be Me.” Later, on page 97, there are so-called “Aphirmations” for Aphrodite herself, which read more like modern self-help clichés than anything befitting an immortal deity. These elements, presumably intended to add depth or humour, only serve to dilute Aphrodite’s identity as a goddess. At one point, she even refers to her son Eros as “Ro-Ro” (page 318), which feels more like a pet name than anything worthy of a divine figure.

While the author may have aimed to create a more relatable, modern Aphrodite, the result is that she feels more like a celebrity or a character from a reality show than a timeless, multifaceted deity. The author seems to misunderstand that part of what makes Aphrodite compelling is her mystery and power. By stripping her down to something more approachable, more human, she loses much of her mythic weight.

As the book progresses, this issue only worsens. The tone shifts in strange ways—sometimes resembling a diary or journal, other times reading like a collection of casual notes or letters. There’s even a graphic of a note reading “Do Not Open the Jar” (page 145), referencing Pandora’s myth in a way that feels more like a gimmick than a meaningful exploration of the legend. The transformation of Aphrodite into Venus is equally rushed, as though the two are interchangeable. The transition is never fully explored or justified, leaving the reader to wonder whether Aphrodite and Venus are truly one and the same or distinct entities altogether.

In the end, Aphrodite could have been a fascinating exploration of the goddess’s complexities, but instead, it reduces her to something almost entirely human. By the time we reach the final pages, the divine Aphrodite is barely recognisable. Her fall from grace is handled in a way that feels abrupt and incomplete, leaving us questioning whether this portrayal was the author’s intention or simply a failure to capture the true essence of the goddess. In the end, Aphrodite is depicted as all too human, and that is unfortunate.

Aphrodite is a key element to my own story so I wanted to also share the notes I made while reading the book.

Book Review Notes: Aphrodite by Phoenicia Rogerson

Overview

• Aphrodite by Phoenicia Rogerson presents a subversive take on the goddess of love, beauty, and deception.
• The book explores the transformation of Aphrodite through her evolving powers, abilities, and responsibilities.
• However, the writing feels detached, as though the author is an outsider merely observing rather than truly embodying Aphrodite.

Writing Style & Structure

• The book is long, with short chapters and shifting tones.
• The dialogue often feels out of place and does not contribute to a cohesive narrative.
• The text alternates between mythological re-tellings, journal-style entries, and informal, sometimes trivial dialogue.

Characterisation of Aphrodite

• Aphrodite is depicted as more human than divine, which undermines her mythic status.
• There are moments where she appears vapid and even whiny.
  • Example (Page 318): “Sorry, darling, I just realised I have a terrible hair emergency and I need to run home.”
  • She also frequently signs off with “Hugs and Kisses,” which feels jarring for a goddess.
• Her divine nature is diluted by modern, self-help-like elements:
  • Example (Page 95): A “Goddess To-Do List” includes the instruction to “Be Me.”
  • Example (Page 97): The book includes “Aphirmations” for either Aphrodite or the reader, further reducing her mythic weight.
• She refers to Eros as “Ro-Ro” (Page 318), which feels oddly informal for a divine figure (and has ties to my own life).

Other Mythological Figures & Perspectives

• The book unexpectedly features Hestia, Hera, and Athena—sometimes in ways that overshadow Aphrodite herself.
  • Example (Page 50): Hestia appears with dialogue, raising questions about her role in the narrative.
  • By Page 98, Hestia has her own chapter. Why is Hestia in this book at all?
• There is a suggestions in mythology that Hestia, Athena, and Artemis may represent different expressions of the same archetype—each having a singular duty and remaining chaste.
• Various gods leave notes scattered throughout the book, adding an almost graphic novel-style element:
  • Example (Page 117): A note from Hades.
  • Example (Page 127): A note from Zeus.
  • Example (Page 412): “Now, Aphrodite. We end this now. -Z.”

Strange Formatting & Narrative Choices

• Some sections feel visually experimental:
  • Example (Page 145): A graphic of a note saying, “Do not open the jar” references Pandora’s myth.
  • Example (Page 148): The Metis Letters are largely crossed out, making them difficult to interpret.
  • Example (Page 189): An ad for “Holidays in the Hesperides”—a moment that feels more gimmicky than mythological.
• The Fates’ chapter has bolded words, leading to speculation—could it be a cipher, or is the book simply trying to appear more intriguing?

The Fall of Aphrodite & the Evolution to Venus

• The book suggests a decline of Aphrodite’s power, culminating in her fall from Olympus and transformation into Venus.
• The section is told from the perspective of her Aeneas and as a sort of, “her story will never die” narrative. So what does that mean?
• The transition is abrupt and not deeply explored—Venus and Aphrodite are treated almost interchangeably.
• Example (Page 465): Aeneas describes his mother rising from the sea not as Aphrodite, but as Venus.
  • This raises questions:
    • Are Venus and Aphrodite truly the same?
    • Where does this leave figures like Leto, Remus, and Romulus in the divine hierarchy and folkloric origins of Rome?

Final Thoughts

• The book feels as though it was written from the perspective of a rival of Aphrodite, subtly diminishing her power.
• While it offers some fresh insights, it ultimately does Aphrodite a disservice by making her seem all too human.
• In the contest for the golden fruit (apple) and quest to be “fairest of them all,” I cannot help but be reminded that Aphrodite, while being framed as a witch who would sacrifice Helen to get what she wanted, might have been dealing with a clever witch who would stop at nothing to be a god. Perhaps that is a story I will tell.