Neon Residue won me over pretty quickly, mostly because it doesn’t waste time pretending Rae Calder is some invincible cyberpunk superhero. She’s tired, observant, and practical in a way that made her easy to believe. The little details hit hardest for me: the manual dampers on her rig, the physical slate contract, the way she keeps that faded childhood marker like it means something she can’t fully explain yet. That stuff gives the whole book a weird tenderness under all the corporate rot. The Neon Market scenes are exactly the kind of grimy, too-bright chaos I like in this genre, and Lyx is a great wild card. I kept waiting for them to be either fully shady or secretly helpful, and the book does a nice job keeping that uneasy balance. The sealed imprint with the Pulse watermark is a strong hook, especially once it starts connecting to Rae’s missing sibling. That’s where the story really starts to hurt in a good way. What I liked most is that the city doesn’t just sit in the background looking cool. It feels like a system chewing on people’s feelings and selling them back as stability. The whole affective-network idea is unsettling in a way that stuck with me after I finished. Sharp setting, solid pacing, and a lead character I actually cared about. Very good start to what feels like it’s going to get nastier fast.

Fenport is disgusting in the best possible way. I mean that as a compliment. The marsh stink, the low smoke, the brass-and-brine feel of the place — it all makes the whole story stick to you. And the opening scene with Eben losing his voice right there in the bell shop? brutal. no warm-up, no mercy. What really worked for me was how the book treats voice like something physical, almost edible. The jars under the quay, the keepers, the way Mara has to give up pieces of herself to get Eben back — it made every choice feel nasty and personal. Mara herself is great because she’s not some fearless chosen one. She’s just trying to keep her brother alive, keep the shop going, keep the world from sliding sideways, and that makes her gamble hit harder. I also liked Master Corin more than I expected. He has that old-man-weirdness thing going on, but he’s not there just to hand out ominous advice and vanish. The bellcraft details are really specific without turning into homework, and the idea that bells can hold grief is genuinely eerie. By the end, I was less interested in the big fantasy mechanics than in the small damage: what Mara can’t remember anymore, what she can’t say to Eben, what getting a voice back actually costs. Dark, sad, and weirdly beautiful. 🔔

The setup is cool, but the book kept tripping over its own feet for me. Greyspine, the Canopy, the whole rationed-light idea? Great. But once Nola gets the mapstone and we’re obviously headed for the Sunwell, the rest of the story feels pretty easy to call. Compliance Warden shows up? Yep, he’s exactly the kind of sterile, paperwork-heavy villain you expect. Patchy drone? Of course it turns into the lovable helper. Uneasy allies? Check, check, check. What really bothered me was the pacing. The first part is all atmosphere and no momentum, then the middle rushes through what should’ve been the interesting part — figuring out how the Ledger actually controls memory and daylight — so we can get to the next chase scene or secret tunnel. Nola herself is competent, but not exactly memorable. She spends a lot of time reacting to events instead of driving them, which is rough for a story that leans so hard on her being the one person who can outsmart the city. Also, the emotional beats didn’t land for me. Asha’s illness and the light vials should have hit harder, but the book keeps moving so fast that even the big reveals feel a bit mechanical. There’s good worldbuilding here, just not enough breathing room or surprise to make it stick.

Honestly, this got predictable fast. The setup with Asha doing the midnight courier run, the anonymous shard, and Kai’s medical bills is strong enough at first, but after that the story keeps hitting the same beats I could see coming a mile away: secret broadcast, public outrage, corporate pushback, hearings, reform, repeat. By the time the legal stuff and the grassroots consent protocols showed up, it felt like the book was checking off cyberpunk issue-list items instead of letting the conflict breathe. Asha starts out interesting because she’s clearly compromised—she’s not some clean revolutionary, she’s just trying to keep Kai alive—but later she turns weirdly passive. People keep explaining the stakes to her instead of her driving events. Even the “bone to wire” clinics and the underground repair crowd, which should be the coolest part, mostly stay in the background while the plot rushes toward the inevitable fallout. And the ending with the leftover encrypted fragment? That didn’t feel eerie to me, just familiar. Like, yep, there’s the sequel hook. The writing has atmosphere, sure, but atmosphere isn’t enough when the character work and pacing keep flatlining.

Yes! The city details make the whole curse feel ordinary, which is somehow scarier. That whistle disappearing is such a brutal turning point because it’s so personal. I’m really curious how far Mara will go once she reaches the underquay vaults.

The little detail that got me was Eben’s whistle being the thing that used to comfort Mara, then suddenly just… gone. That’s way worse than a big dramatic scream. Also, Fenport feels so lived-in with the kelp crates, talismans, and those jars with names on them. Creepy in the best way.

Right? The pencil line is so good because it makes her seem calm in the middle of something impossible. I also loved the part about the corridor being nudged sideways — that’s such a creepy but elegant image. This story has big “the house is listening” energy.

The detail that got me was the building “leaning into the street like a person” and then those stairwell shoe marks and broom strokes telling its whole history. That’s such a cool way to make the place feel like it’s thinking. Also, a structural engineer carrying just a pencil is weirdly badass.