★★★☆☆
A Court of Thorns and Roses is a fantasy romance that wants to sweep you off your feet with brooding fae men, dangerous bargains, and an undercurrent of slow-burn tension. But for me, it felt more like being asked to dance… and standing awkwardly on the sidelines for half the song before joining in.
The book had its moments, but getting to them required patience I’m not sure I signed up for. Welcome to A Court of Thorns and Roses, where Beauty and the Beast meets… smoldering looks and questionable decision-making. Is it worth the hype? Sort of.
The TL;DR
What’s it about?
A mortal girl gets roped into a dangerous fae world after killing a wolf. Cue drama, court politics, and broody love interests.
Should you care?
Do you enjoy trauma-bonding with beautiful, emotionally unavailable men? Then congratulations, this book was practically made for you.
ACOTAR is for anyone who’s ever dreamed of being whisked away by a dark, mysterious stranger who might also ruin your life. And if you’ve ever painted your feelings in a cold, draft room while muttering “No one understands me,” Feyre is your girl.
Spice Level:
Moderate smolder, but nothing explicit in this one.
Tropes:
- Enemies to Lovers: ✓
- Broody Hero with a Tragic Past: ✓
- Strong, Stubborn Heroine: ✓
Archetypes:
- Feyre: The Determined Artist Who Probably Needs Therapy. Brave, stubborn, and will definitely sacrifice herself for everyone around her, even if they don’t ask. Think Katniss Everdeen with a paintbrush and an endless supply of bad decisions.
- Tamlin: The Brooding Protector Who Needs a Personality Upgrade. Handsome, chivalrous, and allergic to honest communication. He’s like a golden retriever trying to pass himself off as a wolf.
- Lucien: The Snarky Bestie With Baggage. Your classic “witty sidekick,” but with a tragic past and daddy issues. Probably the most interesting guy in the room, but the book barely lets him shine.
- Rhysand: The Walking Red Flag, But With Wings. Dark, dangerous, and so charming it’s unfair. Is he bad news? Absolutely. Will you still wonder what he smells like? Of course you will.
Reading Timeline:
- Dates: November 17-24, 2024
- Mood: Mildly frustrated for the first half, intrigued for the second.
Main Review
The Good: Where It Shines (Eventually)
The second half of ACOTAR is where Sarah J. Maas finally earns her hype. Once Feyre’s relationship with Tamlin picks up steam and the stakes become life-or-death, I started to care. The world-building, while uneven at times, is creative: a sprawling fae realm with its deadly courts and cryptic magic.
The last third? Genuinely gripping, with an intense climax that delivered on the promises the slow start barely hinted at. If you stick with it, you’re rewarded with a tense, emotional payoff. And the breadcrumbs of future drama (hello, Rhysand) are tantalizing enough to make you curious about book two.
The Bad: Flat Characters, Flatlining Pacing, and Overly Convenient Plotting
Here’s where ACOTAR stumbled for me: much of the book, especially the first half. It’s an uphill climb of thinly fleshed-out characters, snail-paced storytelling, and overly convenient plotting.
Feyre, our heroine, is brave and determined, but she’s more of a sketch than a fully realized person. Her struggles are laid out for us in painstaking detail: her hunger, her desperation, her guilt… but they never hit emotionally. I knew what she felt because Maas told me, not because I felt it too.
Tamlin, the brooding fae love interest, is… fine? He’s handsome, tragic, and chivalrous, but he doesn’t bring much beyond the standard “mysterious protector with a dark past.” And Lucien, the witty sidekick, is funny enough but never rises above his role as comic relief.
As for the pacing: I didn’t feel invested until halfway through, which made the first 200 pages a bit of a slog. It’s a lot of exposition, a slow-brewing romance, and not much else.
Then there’s the issue of believability. Every major event in the story feels like it’s asking you to suspend disbelief, and not just because it’s fantasy, but because of how much the narrative goes out of its way to explain why things happen. Characters’ choices often feel like plot devices, and the story’s over-explanations nearly break the spell. Instead of letting the world and its rules feel organic, the writing tries to persuade you, as if Maas is sitting next to you saying, “See? This totally makes sense.” Half the time, I found myself shrugging and thinking, OK, sure.
If you’re willing to go along with the “OK, sure” moments, the payoff might be worth it. But if you like your fantasy romance grounded in internal logic, ACOTAR might leave you rolling your eyes.
The WTF: The Payoff That Came Too Late
It’s frustrating, because when ACOTAR does finally get good, it really gets good. The second half dives into darker, grittier territory, with more complex moral dilemmas and an actual sense of urgency. If the whole book had the energy of those final chapters, this review might be 4 stars.
Who Should (and Shouldn’t) Read This?
Read it if…
- You love a slow-burn romance that eventually pays off.
- You’re here for the fae drama and magical courts.
- You don’t mind characters that take a while to grow on you.
Skip it if…
- You want a fast-paced plot from page one.
- You need characters with depth and complexity.
- You’re allergic to long stretches of setup.
Final Take: A Beautiful World with Flaws You Have to Ignore
ACOTAR is a book that rewards patience, but you’ll need a lot of it to get through the first half. The characters are serviceable but rarely gripping, and the pacing feels sluggish until it suddenly doesn’t. By the end, I was invested enough to see what happens next, but it took far longer than it should have to get there.
Sarah J. Maas’ prose is like a Taylor Swift lyric that says exactly what it means, with just enough flair to keep you hooked. Imagine Swift writing about a high-stakes love story, but she’s only allowed to use the bridge of ‘You Belong With Me.’ Literal, dramatic, and so on-the-nose you might roll your eyes, but you’re humming along anyways.
There’s no poetry hiding between the lines, no layered metaphor to unpack. It’s Feyre saying, “I painted my trauma on the walls,” not “I burned every bridge but kept the skyline.” It works because it’s direct and perfectly built for emotional consumption.
But because of this, I found myself at arm’s length from the characters. Their emotions were laid out in plain text, but they rarely dug deep enough for me to feel them too. I wanted to connect with Feyre’s struggle, her choices, her pain… but the style kept her story on the surface.
Call it fast food for the soul: you know it’s not filling, but you’re devouring it anyway.
⅗ Stars: Worth a shot for the curious, but proceed with tempered expectations.
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