Sanibel
I liked Foundryside well enough, even if I had some mixed feelings about how it blended fantasy and sci-fi elements. It had a strong premise, an intricate magic system, and a compelling heist-driven plot. So I approached Shorefall with cautious optimism, hoping to find a similar balance. There were so many elements I should have liked: the intricate magic system, the high-stakes conflict, and the return of characters who were undeniably well-crafted. And yet, despite all of that, I just didn’t care and I struggled to stay invested.
The story picks up a few years after the events of Foundryside. Sancia and her allies have built something new—a company that aims to use scriving for the benefit of the people, rather than leaving it in the hands of the merchant houses. But their progress is quickly overshadowed by the return of an ancient, godlike figure, one who threatens to upend everything they’ve fought for. What follows is a relentless battle of escalating stakes, as reality itself is rewritten in ways that feel increasingly impossible to contain.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why Shorefall didn’t resonate with me. On paper, it has everything that made the first book interesting, but somehow, as a package, it just didn’t land. The story escalates at a breakneck pace. So it becomes difficult to stay grounded. The tension never lets up, and while I generally enjoy high stakes, this felt like strapping into a rocket that never stopped accelerating. We were already operating at a high level of tension from the start, and then it just kept pushing further and further into the stratosphere—until I found myself detached from it all. Instead of feeling thrilling, it became overwhelming.
The characters, too, left me cold. They’re well-crafted in a conceptual sense—complex, interesting, and distinct—but I struggled to feel anything for them. No one felt particularly relatable or compelling, and their struggles—while monumental—never quite reached me on an emotional level. It wasn’t that they were poorly written; rather, I just couldn’t connect with them in a meaningful way.
The most striking and memorable scene for me was when someone was forced to cut off their thumb. In the grand scheme of the story, it’s an insignificant moment, but it was so well written—so visceral—that it stuck with me far more than anything else. It’s a bit disappointing that, in a book filled with intricate worldbuilding and interesting characters, this is the one thing that truly lingered in my mind.
I wanted to like Shorefall, and in isolation, I can acknowledge that it does a lot of things well. But as a whole, it didn’t click for me. I’ll still be reading the third book—if only to finish the series—but I’m hoping it finally gives me clarity on what hasn’t been working for me in these books.
I liked Foundryside well enough, even if I had some mixed feelings about how it blended fantasy and sci-fi elements. It had a strong premise, an intricate magic system, and a compelling heist-driven plot. So I approached Shorefall with cautious optimism, hoping to find a similar balance. There were so many elements I should have liked: the intricate magic system, the high-stakes conflict, and the return of characters who were undeniably well-crafted. And yet, despite all of that, I just didn’t care and I struggled to stay invested.
The story picks up a few years after the events of Foundryside. Sancia and her allies have built something new—a company that aims to use scriving for the benefit of the people, rather than leaving it in the hands of the merchant houses. But their progress is quickly overshadowed by the return of an ancient, godlike figure, one who threatens to upend everything they’ve fought for. What follows is a relentless battle of escalating stakes, as reality itself is rewritten in ways that feel increasingly impossible to contain.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why Shorefall didn’t resonate with me. On paper, it has everything that made the first book interesting, but somehow, as a package, it just didn’t land. The story escalates at a breakneck pace. So it becomes difficult to stay grounded. The tension never lets up, and while I generally enjoy high stakes, this felt like strapping into a rocket that never stopped accelerating. We were already operating at a high level of tension from the start, and then it just kept pushing further and further into the stratosphere—until I found myself detached from it all. Instead of feeling thrilling, it became overwhelming.
The characters, too, left me cold. They’re well-crafted in a conceptual sense—complex, interesting, and distinct—but I struggled to feel anything for them. No one felt particularly relatable or compelling, and their struggles—while monumental—never quite reached me on an emotional level. It wasn’t that they were poorly written; rather, I just couldn’t connect with them in a meaningful way.
The most striking and memorable scene for me was when someone was forced to cut off their thumb. In the grand scheme of the story, it’s an insignificant moment, but it was so well written—so visceral—that it stuck with me far more than anything else. It’s a bit disappointing that, in a book filled with intricate worldbuilding and interesting characters, this is the one thing that truly lingered in my mind.
I wanted to like Shorefall, and in isolation, I can acknowledge that it does a lot of things well. But as a whole, it didn’t click for me. I’ll still be reading the third book—if only to finish the series—but I’m hoping it finally gives me clarity on what hasn’t been working for me in these books.