A travel writer takes a job with a shady publishing company in New York, only to find that she must write a guide to the city - for the undead!
Zoë Norris is looking for a fresh start in New York City. She's found a seemingly perfect position as a travel book editor, but there is one thing holding her back—being human.
Zoë isn't going to let anyone—not even her blood-drinking boss or her death goddess coworker put her off from delving deep into the monster underworld. But her job, not to mention her life, might be in peril when the line between monster and human starts to crumble...with Zoë right in the middle.
Phew, this is the first physical book I've read in quite some time. That's right, my library didn't have an e-book of this one available in time for the Vampire Book Club's discussion date (though I did request it and its sequel for the future), so I had to hoof it old-school (it's been probably 5 years since I went full digital) through a paperback copy! Was it worth the papercut potential?
I honestly enjoyed this book a lot reading through it. It's paced well, the mystery is both high-stakes and easy to follow, and the characters and their world were engaging and entertaining to experience. But then my analytical brain turned on at the end and I started thinking...
Zoë, our main lead, was fun to follow, but I think I'd much prefer to experience her at a distance than to know her personally. I normally love snarky characters, but even reading through the book I thought she came off as rather judgemental. Probably didn't help that most of her descriptions of people, especially at the beginning of the book, were focused on their weight (pudgy, fat, overweight, heavy, big, etc.), though that did seem to taper off after first impressions were established. She also seemed to have a huge inferiority complex—any request or statement that she should do something and she went running to do the opposite. "You probably shouldn't apply to this job." Immediately applies to job. "You aren't trained and/or are injured, so should stay back." Runs in to imminent danger anyway. I'd normally say she's confident or stubborn, but her decisions lean heavily into foolishly contrarian way too often. Still, she does come off as kind, curious, and eager to help, which helps balance her out for the most part.
The rest of the cast, however, doesn't come off in a very positive light. You might think the coterie (the blanket term for sentient non-humans) would try for a sympathetic angle, or a message like "we may not be human, but we all share this planet," but for the most part they come off as all-powerful overlords. With hardly any exceptions, the coterie races seem to treat humanity as a foodsource rather than something that deserves any kind of respect.
Take Phil and John, for example. Phil treats Zoë as a necessity for getting his guidebook published, thus respects her experience, but rarely asks her opinion on things and outright endangers her on multiple occasions. John, meanwhile, sees Zoë as a plaything, something he can conquer and throw away, even as he's been told multiple times (both by her and his boss) not to. But even more than these characters, vampires and 'buses are both predatory species, feeding on humans while giving nothing back. And they're not the only ones, as we see various gods, fae, and even zombies offer nothing in return for what they take. The coterie society and human society are so divided, there's barely even a chance for it.
Now, maybe I've been reading too much YA lately, where everything has to have some sort of positive message or allegory, but I wished the coterie were somehow more engaged with humans. That they aided humans, or bettered the environment, or something to make it seem like we were all on the same side. That life (or un-life or immortality) no matter how weird (or gruesome or cruel) was still worth preserving and sharing. Instead this book actually seemed to say that money is king, everyone has a price, and live life while you can because our coterie overlords are merely keeping us as a food supply.
While this is a pretty spot-on allegory for the consumability of people in the workforce, even down to the harassment angle, which is very easily relatable to the vast majority of readers (myself included), I've still gotta say I totally agree with Granny Good Mae and the Public Works guys. Zoë is a complete sell-out for working with the coterie. Then again, I suppose if she decided to increase her insider knowledge and take it to some equalizing organization...maybe we could see some progress of equality, or at least respect between the races in the future? I guess we'll have to wait and see.
But really, this book isn't all bad. I had a great time reading it, partly due to the quick pacing. Each chapter lead straight into something new and enticing that just made you want to read more. The ending's pacing was unfortunately very rushed and chaotic, leading to some confusion that took a couple read-throughs to fix, but the other 23 chapters were excellent. And the Shambling Guide excerpts at the end of each chapter were great secondary world-building, with some blurbs relating to things/locations we just read about or foreshadowing things to come, but most just providing insights into coterie society outside of what Zoë was delving into.
I especially found the blurb on the Statue of Liberty fascinating, and which led me to wonder how integrated the coterie and human societies were in the past—was it always hidden, or was there some schism that happened later that caused humanity in general to forget? The world of the coterie may not be as cheery and cooperative as I may have preferred, but that doesn't make it any less intriguing.
The humor was also a major draw for me. I'm always up for some good sass and snark, and the whole cast came through in spades. I even liked John...at first, before he goes into full-on...well, let's just say there's some triggering content related to dubious consent. Like I said earlier, he's not exactly respectful of his food's boundaries. But we're supposed to be on a positive note, so forget John. Even Granny Good Mae, who bordered on insanity, had some pretty good one-liners to offer.
Overall, I really enjoyed the world-building, if not necessarily the inhabitants of said world. Maybe it's just NYC and its denizens, but I found the consensus that humanity was only as good as a foodsource for the vast majority of coterie to be a bit of a downer. It was fun to visit, but I definitely wouldn't want to live there. Then again, the prospect of a wider world with perhaps more progressive/cooperative people, or the possibility of some future developments, is enough to have me eager to return for the sequel(s). So if you're looking for some snarky protagonists, a fascinating take on monsters and the supernatural, or just a fast-paced romp through New York City, you should probably give The Shambling Guide a try. As with any visit to a big city, just be mindful of the more unsavory parts (if you have an aversion to that) and have a good time.
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