Keeper of Hollowfall
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About the Story
In the cliffed city of Hollowfall, living lamps hold people's memories. When one lamp is stolen and a machine begins siphoning light, twenty-year-old Maya must leave the quay, learn to listen, and fight a collector who would cage moments. A coming-of-age tale about repair, choice, and what we keep.
Chapters
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Ratings
Pretty prose, but I'm filing this under 'beautiful packaging, predictable contents.' The living lamps are a neat gimmick, and there are a few standout lines (Marin's scar imagery is solid), yet the arc hinted at — stolen lamp, siphoning machine, young protagonist must save the day — feels like a checklist of YA beats. The collector villain is introduced as menacing but comes off one-dimensional in the excerpt. Still, I'll give credit where it's due: the world feels textured (Market Shelf and the rope bridges are vivid), so readers who prioritize atmosphere over plot surprises will probably enjoy it.
I wanted to love this more than I did. The premise is intriguing — living lamps as repositories of memory — and the excerpt has some lovely lines, but the setup feels familiar. Twenty-year-old maker leaves home to fight an external villain who wants to cage moments: it's a trope at this point. The pacing in the excerpt is leisurely in a way that risks stalling; by the time the siphoning machine shows up, I wasn't feeling enough urgency from Maya herself. Also, a couple of world details raise questions that the text doesn't address here (how are lamp-owners protected legally? why hasn't this collector been stopped before?). Might work better in a longer excerpt, but as-is it leans too much on atmosphere and not quite enough on plot propulsion.
This excerpt feels like a warm, slow tidal pull. The best YA often lets you live inside small rituals, and Keeper of Hollowfall does that exquisitely: Maya learning the rhythm of a lamp by its weight, the hum that sputters when memory frays, the way Ora likes a flat thumb — these are the little domestic acts that accumulate into a life. The imagery is consistently strong (lamplight leaving a residue 'like warm honey' is a line I won't forget). I also admire the thematic clarity; it's clear this will be a coming-of-age about repair and what we choose to keep. The thief and the siphoning machine inject urgency without flattening the quieter moments. If the rest of the novel maintains this balance between intimate scenes and mounting danger, it will be an excellent addition to YA shelves — thoughtful, tender, and adventurous all at once.
Witty, warm, and a little bit melancholy — I loved the writing voice. Lines like 'the lamp at the workbench — Ora — pulsed steady and gold' are the kind of sentences that make you slow down and savor the page. The city imagery (salt-polished ribs of rock!) is delightful, and the whole concept — living lamps that hold memories — is perfectly YA in its mix of wonder and intimacy. Plus, Marin sounds like the kind of mentor you want around, scar and all. Can't wait to see Maya take on that collector.
As someone who reads a lot of YA urban fantasy, Keeper of Hollowfall stands out for its sensory prose and moral focus. The story doesn't just use magic as spectacle; the lamps are integrated into daily life in smart ways — a light that remembers who owes coins, children learning to read parents' moods — and that makes the theft feel deeply personal. The apprenticeship between Marin and Maya is written with subtle warmth: his 'stubborn kindness' and the scar that 'traced an old recipe for patience' are small details that tell you everything you need to know about their relationship. I also appreciated that the narrative appears to be about repair and choice rather than an Us-vs-Them fight. My only hope is that the larger conspiracy behind the collector and the machine gets as much love in the full story as the domestic scenes do. Still, highly recommended for readers who like character-driven fantasy with strong atmosphere.
I appreciated the restraint and attention to detail. The excerpt's quiet scenes — Marin keeping the stove alight, Maya resting her thumb on Ora — build character without shouting. Hollowfall is a believable setting: Market Shelf's Old Jace and the way streetlight colors read moods are clever touches that make the magic system feel lived-in. The stakes (a stolen lamp, a machine siphoning light) promise adventure, and I liked the focus on repair and choice rather than instant heroics. Short, evocative, and promising.
This one hit me right in the chest. Maya leaving the quay to listen — really listen — felt like a rite of passage. There's a quiet bravery in how she learns the city's rhythms by touch: the lamp Ora liking a flat thumb, the lamplight leaving a residue like warm honey. The passage where gulls scream and a cartwheel clatters 'like a sentence being rewritten' gave me goosebumps; the prose has these gorgeous, small metaphors that land hard. The thief and the siphoning machine give the plot good momentum without drowning the coming-of-age heart of the story. I smiled, I teared up a little, and I wanted more of Hollowfall's neighborhoods. Highly recommend for fans of wistful, adventurous YA. 🙂
Keeper of Hollowfall stuck with me in the best way — the worldbuilding is so tactile you can almost smell the oil and salt in Maya's workshop. I loved the small, specific moments: Marin's scarred knuckle, the jars of powdered mica in his looping handwriting, and especially the scene where Maya thumbs Ora until the lamp's hum matches her heartbeat. The idea of living lamps as memory-keepers is fresh and handled with care; the city itself — cliffed, stacked, threaded with rope bridges — feels lived-in. The antagonist (the collector who cages moments) raises the stakes effectively, and the siphoning machine is genuinely creepy in its implications. A strong YA urban fantasy about repair, choice, and how we carry what matters.