Review of Ricochet by Lynne Carni: A Journey Through Worlds, and My Bumpy Ride Along the Way
When I first stumbled upon Ricochet, I was absolutely enchanted by the premise: Anastasia with a magic necklace, traversing worlds, and Alexei Romanov impersonating his otherworldly double? I could hardly resist diving in. However, while the sparkling summary caught my attention like a moth to a flame, the actual reading experience left me feeling, well, more like a lukewarm cup of tea.
From the get-go, I found myself wrestling with the story’s pacing and structure. The creative potential is undeniable—Carni throws an exhilarating array of concepts at us, but they often feel like glittering gems quickly discarded in favor of a more pedestrian plot. The exploration of alternative realities offered tantalizing possibilities—imagine the Japanese winning the war in 1905!—yet just as quickly, we zoomed past these intriguing ideas without a proper investigation. I was left feeling like a Netflix binge-watcher, watching scenes fly by, wishing for a moment to pause and savor them.
One of my biggest frustrations was how fast the narrative travels while simultaneously feeling too bogged down with character perspectives that didn’t quite hook me. Lev’s point of view came off as tedious, creating an odd dichotomy where the pacing struck too frantically in one moment and dragged in others. Ultimately, the first half felt disjointed; it never slowed down enough to breathe, leaving me grappling with lore I couldn’t quite wrap my head around.
Yet, I don’t hate Ricochet—not at all. The tale’s themes of forgiveness and letting go of trauma resonated with me. In stark contrast to other versions of Anastasia’s story I’ve encountered, this one insists that familial love can transcend betrayal, stirring a respect within me for Carni’s moral grounding. However, I found myself irritated by how often my favorite character, the alternative Alexei—sweet, gentle, and oh-so-lovable—was dismissed as "stupid." Can we not celebrate goodness without belittling intelligence?
Amidst my critiques, the characters still shone through with their endearing qualities. I adored the alternative Alexei to bits; a boy longing for moose hunting arguably brought a warmth the story seemed to need. His unexpected magic revelation at the end had me scratching my head, though. It felt like a surprise twist popped up without warning—a fun idea, sure, but it demanded some foreshadowing for coherence.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t shake a sense of discomfort from Carni’s choice to render Nicholas’s brother as the villain. While her alternative universe offers a fresh look, it also prompts questions about agency and characterization that left me unsettled. And Anastasia herself, despite being the first-person narrator, sometimes felt like a passenger in her own journey, overshadowed by others.
In summary, Ricochet is a whirlwind of an adventure full of brilliant ideas and heart, yet it ultimately left me dissatisfied, like cotton candy for dinner instead of a hearty meal. If you’re a fan of imaginative stories that explore the wonders of parallel worlds and familial love, you may still find joy in this book. For others seeking depth and pacing that allows for reflection, you might want to approach with a cautious heart.
For me, this read highlighted the complexities of expectation vs. reality in storytelling—a valuable lesson for both readers and writers alike. I may not have fallen in love with Ricochet, but I appreciate its ambition, and I’m sure there’s a reader out there who will cherish it deeply!
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