The Cartographer of Hollowlight

I enjoyed the concept and most of the execution, but I have to be honest: the pace dragged in the middle. The opening is superb — the harbour, the Maphouse noises, Master Kett’s unnerving presence — and the vaults-of-jars chase is a highlight. But after Riven starts bargaining away his past, the second act loses momentum; important scenes like the meeting with the collector of names feel a little rushed despite their weirdness. Some plot beats are vague (why exactly was the Wellsong targeted now?), and a couple of character motivations could use sharpening. Still, the writing is lovely and the ending’s idea of stitching a new dawn stuck with me. With a tighter middle, this could be outstanding.

I’m still thinking about the imagery. The lemon-and-old-stitches smell of the Maphouse maps, the tramline of ink that remembers someone’s tears — these are tiny, perfect details that add up to a living city. Riven’s arc felt earned: the moment he trades part of his past in a bargain is gutting, particularly when the Wellsong’s light dims and you feel the city holding its breath. The Wellsong theft is a great inciting incident; it immediately ties personal cost to civic danger. I also loved the quiet moments — Riven listening to the Maphouse noises, the low hum from the wellshaft — which balance the chase scenes in the vaults. The pacing is mostly good; the prose sometimes luxuriates, but for this kind of moody fantasy, that’s a feature, not a bug. Very fond of the ending’s suggestion of a stitched new dawn. Would recommend to readers of melancholic, lyric fantasy.

I admired the imagery but ultimately felt underwhelmed. The city is beautifully painted — I can’t stop thinking about the glasshouses remembering sun and the Maphouse smelling of lemon and stitches — yet the plot sometimes felt like it was treading water. The theft of the Wellsong Ledger is a strong premise, but once Riven starts trading memories the story leans on familiar tropes: memory-for-power bargains, a stoic mentor with ominous lines, and an abstract “collector” villain who felt more symbolic than threatening. The jars in the vaults are neat visually, but their function in the plot wasn’t always clear. I wanted sharper stakes and clearer consequences for Riven’s losses. The prose is lovely, but aesthetics alone didn't fix pacing and a few logical holes for me.

Dark, clever, and very, very sad in the best way. The premise — that maps bind the city's light to memory — is original and well-executed. I especially liked the scene where the Wellsong above the central stone hums and the alleys “gave back softer echoes”; it’s such a neat piece of worldbuilding that actually ties into the emotional core: memory as sustenance. Riven feels real: ink-stained knuckles, patient shoulders, the almost-religious faith in mapping. Master Kett is chillingly delivered — his advice about feeding lines lingers in the brain. The vaults of jars sequence is eerie and imaginative; the collector of names is a standout antagonist because the threat is conceptual and creepy rather than just physical. A few sentences here and there are so precise they made me stop and re-read. Highly recommended for readers who like atmosphere and smart dark fantasy rather than nonstop action.

I loved the atmosphere from the very first line — “Hollowlight crouched like a coal under a cracked sky” hooked me immediately. The prose is so tactile: vellum hanging “like sleepy birds,” ink pooled “dark as pooled rain,” and the way Riven presses his pen as if learning how the world would answer back is quietly heartbreaking. The Wellsong Ledger theft scene and Master Kett tapping the ledger with that dry line, “Don't map what you cannot feed,” set up high stakes without feeling melodramatic. Riven’s bargains — trading pieces of memory for light — made me feel each loss physically. The chase into the vaults of jars is vivid and weirdly beautiful; the jars themselves felt like characters. I also appreciated the slow burn of the coming-of-age thread: Riven’s awkwardness in the Maphouse, the tramline of ink sitting differently where someone once wept. If you like dark urban fantasy with memory magic and wonderfully crafted language, this is a treat. Can’t wait for more of Hollowlight. ✨

Wanted to love this more than I did. The prose is often exquisite — the small sensory details like the tramline of ink sitting differently where someone once wept really stuck with me — and the Wellsong theft is a captivating hook. But the story suffers from clichés: the young apprentice forced into a quest, the cryptic mentor who says ominous things, the memory-trading as a coming-of-age shortcut. The pacing is uneven; the first act sings, the middle limps. I also felt that certain emotional beats (Riven trading parts of his past) were described more as ideas than lived-through moments — I didn’t always feel the pain the text expected me to feel. If you prize beautiful sentences over structural tightness, this is worth a go. Otherwise, it’s frustratingly close to great.

This is moody, inventive dark fantasy with an emotionally satisfying protagonist. Riven’s apprenticeship scenes — the way he learns to listen to paper and ink — are some of the story’s best moments. Master Kett’s warning about feeding lines is eerie foreshadowing, and the Wellsong Ledger theft works as both plot engine and metaphor for memory loss. The vaults of jars are creepy-cool: I loved the tactile descriptions of glass and labels and the claustrophobic sense of bargaining for names. The collector of names is a brilliantly weird antagonist; when Riven wrestles with him, the stakes feel both intimate and city-wide. A minor quibble: a couple of expository beats lean heavy, but the strength of the characters and the poetic worldbuilding more than compensate. If you enjoy urban dark fantasy with heart, pick this up.

Emotional and quietly brilliant. The author makes the act of cartography feel sacred — and dangerous. That line, “Lines take what names give,” has been echoing in my head. The theft of the Wellsong Ledger is handled with real suspense, and the subsequent dimming of the lamp is described in such a way that you sense the city losing pieces of itself. Riven’s sacrifices—especially the moment he trades a remembered face for light—hit me hard. The Maphouse scenes are gorgeous: vellum like birds, ink wells like rain. I also loved the quieter domestic touches — Toma and the broth scene — that ground Riven and make his losses feel human. This is one of those books where the prose is as much a character as the people. Loved it.

A moody, atmospheric concept that doesn’t quite follow through. The opening chapters are gorgeous — that description of the Wellsong square and the hum in the city made the world almost tactile — but after the ledger is stolen things become murkier. The chase into the vaults of jars is evocative but overly long, and the bargain sequences (Riven giving up memories) start to feel repetitive without escalating in consequence. The collector of names, while an interesting antagonist in idea, lacks development; their motivations are shadowy in a way that felt like an excuse for mystery rather than purposeful obfuscation. That said, I liked the central metaphor — maps as memory — and the author's voice is confident. With some tightening and clearer character arcs, this could have been much stronger.

Stylishly written but frustrating. I kept getting pulled out of the narrative by vagueness: why does the Wellsong remember those first who loved the city? How exactly do lines “feed” the light, mechanically? The metaphor works emotionally, but the mechanics feel half-explained, which made some of the plot twists feel less earned. I liked Riven as a protagonist — the ink-stained knuckles, the patient shoulders — and Master Kett is creepy-good, but the middle drags, especially during the bargaining scenes. Also, the collector of names is a cool idea but ended up as a little too much archetype and not enough character. To be clear: parts are gorgeous, but the novel needed tighter plotting and more concrete rules for its magic.