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I don't know why I took so long to finally get around to reading this one, but I'm absolutely regretting it. Because Delilah Green Doesn't Care is absolutely fantastic. By far one of the strongest supporting casts I've ever seen in a romance novel, and a main romance that starts off absolutely incredible.

Unfortunately, the last few chapters were a little disappointing to me. The shift from a casual relationship to a serious one felt a little bit rushed, even if the build-up to that shift had been very well established. Part of this is that there are sort of two separate third-act conflicts, without enough time to properly explore either afterward. I'm sure that the sequels will help quite a bit, but the ending fell a little flat for me. Which is a shame, because I loved absolutely everything else.

Still recommended, and I'm definitely going to check out the sequels, because everything I loved here I absolutely loved, even if I was a bit disappointed by the ending.

I want to preface this (admittedly very critical) review by stating that—despite my many issues—Those Who Wait delivers an incredibly captivating romance. Haley Cass shows incredible understanding of slow burn, successfully finding a balance between anticipation and payoff. This is some of the best yearning I've seen in a romance novel, enough to make up for many of its' issues. 
While the idealized portrayal of politics that overhangs their relationship didn't quite work for me (and at times feels in direct conflict with the hidden nature of their relationship), Sutton and Charlotte are both incredibly likable characters, whose chemistry together is absolutely enthralling. Those Who Wait is quite a long read—one that might have benefitted from some editing down—but the smaller moments between these two are so enjoyable that I rarely noticed its' length. 
The side characters—particularly Sutton's friends and family—are among the strongest I've seen in a contemporary romance novel. They make this slow burn work, maximizing tension through the chaotic pressure they present, something particularly key for a hidden relationship. 
Unfortunately, things fall apart for me a little bit in the novel's third act. While I personally didn't find it to be a deal breaker (and many of my issues with the third act were addressed by Cass' later books, particularly the alternate universe sequel Midnight Rain which rewrites the majority of my issues with the third act, though not without its' own issues), the ending ultimately feels a little under baked. 
Sutton's arc throughout the novel revolves around her becoming more active in her own relationships. At the start of the novel, she's too passive to even swipe right on Charlotte's dating app profile, but she learns to actively pursue the relationship she wants, one step at a time. And yet, she plays a passive role in both her own breakup and its' reconciliation. Charlotte is the one to break up with her, because of conflicts in Charlotte's life. And she's the one to resolve those conflicts, the one to reconcile their relationship. It ultimately leaves Sutton's character arc feeling unresolved.
The ending also feels fairly rushed—in stark contrast with the novel's otherwise deliberate pacing. While the main conflict preventing Sutton and Charlotte's relationship has been resolved, the ending handwaves many of the other potential issues surrounding their relationship. I believe that both Sutton and Charlotte are willing to work towards resolving those issues, but the abruptness of the ending compounds with Sutton's passivity to result in something ultimately unsatisfying.
Haley Cass understands how to write a compelling slow burn, and Those Who Wait's highs more than make up for its lows. Highly recommend checking this one out.

This was a really hard book for me to read. And I'm not talking about quality; Becky Albertalli is a fantastic writer, and I absolutely loved the book (more on that later). But it brought up some memories; of being a freshman in college, surrounded by my brand new, very queer friend group. Questioning myself, but hiding the very, very obvious truth beneath layer after layer of imposter syndrome. Feeling like I wasn't queer enough, because I hadn't always known, and I wasn't visibly queer, even though deep down, I knew that I wasn't the kind of person who craved visibility.

So yeah, reading this book pushed me back through a rollercoaster of emotions and memories I'd mostly forgotten about, a chapter of my life I mostly skip over, the good and bad. Imogen is an extremely compelling character, and Albertalli's writing does an excellent job putting you right in her head. Imogen's journey is extremely compelling, managing to feel extremely relatable without feeling generic. I'm not usually a fan of books that can feel a little heavy handed with discourse, but Albertalli carefully navigates a subset of queer discourse so expertly, that I couldn't help but get engaged, no matter how close to home it hit.

I'm going to try and keep this review contained to just the first book, but so much of what I love about Dorley as a series is paid off later on in the series, so forgive me if I can't control myself. Welcome to Dorley Hall is one of the most compelling books I've ever read, and is absolutely worth your consideration.

The force fem nature of this premise is by far its' most provocative, so let's start there. I don't think that morality discourse is the most productive this early into the narrative; there's so much context about Dorley's methods and history revealed later in the series that informs my thoughts on the matter, but I also don't think that the question of whether or not Dorley Hall is morally good directly informs the quality of the book. If anything, the complexity of the question only speaks to its' qualities. If the premise doesn't make you too uncomfortable, feel free to skip ahead a little bit.

However, it is an aspect of the story that many people, particularly non transfems, struggle with overcoming. So, as a trans woman, here's some things to consider: transition isn't just something you are, it's also something you do. Dorley's women are materially trans, they've taken the steps to transition both physically and socially. And while they may not have taken those steps on their own, Dorley's program is designed to select those who are most likely to benefit from a material transition. Gendering is an inherently violent and traumatic process, one done to each and every one of us from birth. Dorley's mechanisms are designed to inflict that trauma in reverse, to provide its' patients with a healthier framework to interact with the world.

You can argue about the nuances of these mechanisms, but I find it extremely reductive to treat Dorley Hall's morality as a black and white issue. You can be uncomfortable with a premise while still engaging with it; the fact that Dorley's forced feminization is so provocative is part of what makes the series so compelling.

In the same way that I find much of Dorley's morality discourse to be reductive, I find framings of the series as some kind of “enlightened forcefem” to be unhelpful. It is undeniable that Dorley is written with clear mastery of forcefem as a genre; Alyson explores tropes and archetypes with a level of depth and nuance rarely seen, and the series' popularity has ensured that it will remain both monumental and influential for forcefem and broader tg/tf narratives for a long time. But I also feel that this framing, that Dorley somehow “redeems” a genre of transmisogynistic smut, is incomplete. What Dorley does with the genre is incredible, yes, but its' built on a foundation of other stories, each of which has something to offer.

Dorley has one of the best ensemble casts I've ever seen. While much of this comes later in the series, as Welcome to Dorley Hall focuses primarily on the viewpoints of Stef and Christine, the foundation for that growth is established here. Alyson depicts the internal struggles of transfemininity absolutely incredibly, while simultaneously managing to cover such a broad spectrum of the trans experience.

Stef's internal struggles reminded me of many of my own very early in transition. Overcoming the seemingly impossible mental barrier of admitting your transness. Struggling to accept a new identity because you still “feel” like your old gender, before hormones have had time to do their thing. She's got so, so much to work through, and works as a fantastic challenge to Dorley's methods.

Christine is the other focus of book one, and for the sake of brevity I won't go into full detail about how much I love her. Long story short: I've never felt so damn seen by a fictional character before. Her struggles with being seen as a woman publicly, with overcoming her anxieties and insecurities in order to learn the tools of femininity that she yearns for, mirrored so many of my own struggles so perfectly. Her arc was the motivating push I needed to push beyond the stagnation I'd been feeling in my own transition, and I cannot praise it enough.

Every single side character has this level of depth throughout the series. While Dorley's deconstruction of forced feminization is both provocative and compelling, I personally believe its greatest strength lies in its depiction of transness. This is something the series goes in much greater depth on as it continues, expanding to the viewpoints of a much larger cast, but those characters are all established here, and even without their internal monologues, their internality remains extremely apparant.

Alyson's writing is absolutely captivating. The story is paced incredibly well, allowing its' heavier moments to land without ever letting things get too dark. And more than anything, I can't understate just how funny it is. The premise is big and weighty, yes, but there are so many jokes that absolutely land here. The gallows humor on display here does an excellent job keeping things fun without ever fully distracting from the facts of the scenario. I could not put this book down on first read, and that's a fact that's remained true on rereads.

The Sisters of Dorley is one of the most compelling pieces of fiction I've ever read. And so much of that ground work is laid here in Welcome to Dorley Hall. I cannot understate just how impressive it is for a serialized work to feel so carefully planned and considered. Every single aspect of Dorley's world and characters feels perfectly crafted to spark interesting discussions about the nature of gender and the trans experience. If the premise makes you uncomfortable, that's fine! Don't let that discomfort rob you of an incredible read.

Book 2 

Read Katie's Review! 

I've been hearing great things about Fingersmith for about as long as I've been hearing great things about Park Chan-wook's The Handmaiden (which I swear I'll get around to watching soon! I know I'll love it), so it's honestly a wonder that it took me so long to get around to reading it. A queer as hell dickensian story featuring one of the most riveting psychosexual dynamics I've ever seen was basically guaranteed to permanently alter my brain chemistry, and I'm glad to say that Waters absolutely delivers.

There are a few points where the final act dragged for me a bit; there are just a few too many twists laid on top of each other, but the twists that land absolutely floored me, and none of them were so egregious as to hurt my enjoyment. Waters' is absolutely masterful at pacing and atmosphere, I seriously could not put this one down.