Review of These Vengeful Gods by Gabe Cole Novoa
Ah, expectations. They can heighten our excitement about a book, amplify our hopes, and sometimes—often, in my case—lead us down a rabbit hole of mixed feelings. I’d been eagerly awaiting Gabe Cole Novoa’s These Vengeful Gods for a while, not just because of its intriguing premise but also due to Novoa’s unique ability to weave emotion and representation into enthralling narratives. However, now that I’ve turned the last page, I find myself in a bittersweet symphony of emotions, left wondering if I genuinely enjoyed the ride or felt a bit let down.
Let’s start with the good stuff—Crow, our complex protagonist, is a breath of fresh air. As someone who identifies with his nuances in gender and identity, I found immense joy in watching him navigate his world. His powers intertwined with his transition, illustrating a creative take on magic and identity, added a depth that made me smile. Crow’s struggles with chronic pain, expressed through his Deathmagic, feel so authentic. Novoa has a knack for crafting characters that embody a spectrum of representation, and here, he doesn’t shy away from exploring the complexities of emotional traumas. The backdrop of genocide adds a solemn layer to the narrative, and Crow’s anger and despair echo long after you’ve put the book down.
While I appreciate the depth of Crow’s relationships, especially with characters from his community—like Lark, who understands his grief—I couldn’t help but feel there was a missed opportunity for stronger interpersonal dynamics. The pacing felt erratic, with some chapters ending abruptly or plot threads left hanging. For instance, I genuinely sought more resolution regarding Crow’s uncles, who seemed to be simplified caricatures of the familial complexities that Crow deserved more than a cursory glance.
Now, let’s chat about the writing style. Novoa’s prose is generally digestible and engaging, making it easy to sink into the narrative. However, the pacing issues were exacerbated by a reliance on familiar tropes like magical transitions and tense competitions. While I enjoyed seeing these elements play out—especially with Novoa’s trademark flair—the story sometimes felt more like a formulaic combination of themes rather than a cohesive narrative.
Then there’s the romance, which seemed rushed and, unfortunately, leaned more toward the “everyone who likes Crow is magically included in a polycule” trope rather than developing from authentic connection. While I rooted for Crow, I yearned for deeper chemistry and meaning in these dynamics.
On a lighter note, I can’t forget to mention the delightful companion animal, Mouse! As a personal fan of quirky side characters, her cuddly nature brought a smile to my face amidst all the chaos. Cute and occasionally manipulative, she stole many scenes and will surely be memorable for readers.
However, I found the overarching messaging a bit too heavy-handed, coming across as somewhat patronizing at times. In a world that desperately needs these discussions, a subtler touch might have landed better. The parallels to current societal issues felt relevant but somewhat clunky.
All in all, These Vengeful Gods might not be the all-encompassing banger I had hoped for—it left me pondering its themes long after the last page—but there’s an undeniable passion at its core. I can see this appealing to readers who cherish representation and are willing to navigate its pitfalls.
Ultimately, while it has its flaws, the impact is undeniable, and I suspect it will resonate with those seeking stories that challenge norms and dig deeper into the human experience. For me, it’s a solid 3.5 stars on StoryGraph, and a book that will leave an imprint I won’t forget anytime soon.