Bokelskere.no

This will probably be my longest review yet, but “Legends & Lattes” gave me a lot to think about when it comes to rating a book, and I need to talk about that and get things off my chest first.

There are several ways of critiquing the quality of art in general, but a lot of clever people have talked about that before. People who know a lot more about that subject than I do have created theories and said many great things about for instance originality, creativity, composition, meaning, clarity, technique, editing, resemblance etc. in terms of theme or design and so on, but relevant to my review here are some of my own personal thoughts - not on how to properly judge the quality of art, but on what is a fair personal judgement.

On the one hand, I enjoyed “Legends & Lattes”, but on the other, and overall, I simply didn’t like it.

One of the things I’ve realized is that there’s always something I can learn from experiences that I feel or think are, at first, bad or negative in some way. This is especially true for art, because those experiences can give me a deeper understanding and appreciation for what I do find enjoyable, if I take some time to reflect on that experience. Much like what I do for myself with this review.

I did become aware of how much my level of enjoyment here was predicated on these three things:

1. What I hoped the book would be.
2. What I expected it to be.
3. My previous experiences with comparable stories.

I do make a conscious effort to judge a book - without disregarding my personal preferences completely - on its own merit. To me, that means ascertaining genre as a way of grounding me in a fixed and intelligible perspective of the story I’m about to read, and what is expected of me as a reader. I need some frame of reference to both understand and enjoy it. I also do try my best to consider the intent of the author (whether they have a message, what kind of mood they were trying to evoke, or feelings they were trying to convey, themes and issues they discuss etc.). I would then judge the book based on these premises and how well the story essentially lived up to those perceived intentions and expectations. I should of course be ready to give authors the benefit of any doubts I may have and be open to the idea that I’ve come across something that can’t be readily defined and ultimately understood or enjoyed in a completely different way than I’m used to.

For obvious reasons, I started reading this book with my mind and heart set on a queer fantasy romance story.

Which, in my opinion, had a poorly realized fantasy setting. There were very little in terms of descriptions of otherworldly places (like cities and landscapes), use of magical elements (spells or items) or even non-human cultures or ways of life that differed from our own, and the very premise of the story is as earthly and unimaginative as can be (opening a coffee shop).

The book also showcased a very unexciting fantasy story, in which I desire something adventurous, something heroic, something powerful and inherently magical. Most of the story here takes place inside said coffee shop, so the narrative became fairly mundane as well (they renovate and open a coffee shop, staff is hired, stuff is ordered. Then they go about selling coffee and baked goods to customers, and then they do it all over again). They didn't sell anything magical either, nor did they make anything in a magical or mysterious manner. Anything that actually was magical, consequently felt out of place.

And while I appreciated the various characters - who were impressively distinct and had great personalities – they just did not appear non-human in most ways, even if they were described as such. Most of them were indistinguishable from humans most of the time, and I simply forgot that they weren't humans after a little while. It's not enough to just say that this is a fantasy world and that there are different kinds of non-human creatures there, I need the setting to be richer, and the characters to fully embody their differences and non-human qualities in a broader, more elaborate way.

The queer and romantic aspect felt lukewarm at best to me as well. The characters that do engage romantically have very little romantic interaction throughout the story. The relationship between Viv and Tandri was platonic at first. They were colleagues. Then they became friends. And then very good friends. It was a lovely little wonder to behold, but they never seemed very romantically interested in each other for most of the story, and not very interested in romance in general. They just felt relatively unromantic together, and it all felt a bit forced towards the end.

I think it was well written, to be fair, and had the perfect balance between dialogue, action, description, metaphors and ruminations.

Sure, it was a lovely, wholesome, optimistic, cozy story about living peacefully, chasing your dream and working hard for it. I just needed more. More food for thought, more action, more depth, more exploration of themes. Even more character development, and certainly more magic.

Unfortunately, there are limitations and pitfalls of genre labeling, which were a detriment to this book and somewhat of a disservice to the author. Based on my way of reading a book, it just left me wanting for so much more on all aspects. You could argue that genre expectations, perceived or expressed intentions from the author or your hopes and previous experiences are either unfair or unreliable ways to consider a story’s own merit and quality. I generally don’t.

As I near the end of my review, if you’re still reading, let me ask you this:

Can you judge a comedy based on how poorly it scared you? A horror story based on the lack of romance? Or, you know, a children’s story based on the absence of philosophical debates about depravity and torture, or heck, even a nonfiction book about magpies based on its inability to sufficiently discuss significant aspects of aesthetic hedonism in French literature in the 19th-century? I don’t think so. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

Let me put it differently: What if an author wanted to make you laugh, and you were horrified instead? What if an author wanted to create suspense, and you thought it was predictable and boring? What if they, like here, tried to make a romantic story, and you didn’t feel or even realize any of the characters were attracted to anyone? Is it fair to say that that they failed for you? Is it fair to give a lower rating based on that? I would say it’s fair enough.

Finally, how do we consider a story’s own merit without a personal or basic literary frame of reference? I mean, you could just ignore genre labels or any intentions completely and ask yourself whether the book gave you what you wanted or something you needed. Or if it gave you anything else that you thought was worthwhile after the fact. Or whether it didn’t, of course. Some would call it unfair to rate a book based on that, some would not. I know what I want and I know what I need from a book, and I appreciate any positive outcome, but when it comes to my final judgement and rating, I try to consider all these things combined. I do feel like I have tried to do just that to the best of my abilities here.