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418 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 23, 2014
I will be killed. I will be murdered.
I have never been wrong before.


When I next wake, two kindnesses: my wrists are no longer chained and a bowl of broth sits on the stool in front of me. I stare at it for a long time. Although I can't remember the last time I ate, it might as well have been a bowl of sand.
Salt & Storm by Kendall Kulper (ARC)

That's my mother's name. Essie Roe. I don't think I ever mentioned that. On one of the very rare occasions my grandmother spoke of my mother, she told me that she'd named my mother for the sounds of waves on the shoreline, whisper-quiet in the morning: Ehhhss-eeee ehhhssss-eeee.
Salt & Storm by Kendall Kulper (ARC)



And surprisingly efficient. Or useless?


”Even back in the good times, the pastor with the dried-apple face would spend his sermons lecturing the congregation against my grandmother’s promises. A deal with her was a deal with the devil, he’d tell them. And the people on my island would nod with pinched lips, but they’d visit her all the same.”Avery’s grandmother has been apprenticing her to take her place, since she has been prophesized to be the last witch. That is, until Avery’s mother steals her away from the cottage and brings her the town of New Bishop to raise her to be a proper young lady, something that Avery is disgusted by.
”Anytime I imagined myself in my mother’s world-shut up, shut in, a cosseted, treasured lady in a great, grand house- the force that flowed through my veins bucked and jittered. I was not a lady, no matter how my mother dressed me, no matter where I slept or what I ate or whom I socialized with. I was a witch, I was a whale, and I did not belong in an octopus’s nest.”She longs to return to her grandmother’s house, but is forbidden to do so because, since her mother is a witch, she has cast a spell on Avery to keep her from leaving New Bishop. Her situation is made even worse by the fact that the Roe magic is fading with her grandmother’s increasing age, as well as dreams she has at night that show her she will be murdered. Avery seems to be stuck, but the arrival of a mysterious tattooed harpoon boy named Tane may change all that.
”The Roe women murmur to me their worries, their plans, their hopes. My ears fill with advice and wishes and histories and my muscles burn as they cling to me, climb onto my shoulders to see with my eyes and hear with my ears they world they’ve only imagined. And whispers- always, always I hear their whispers.”IS THAT NOT BEAUTFUL??!! Even the mother/daughter bond and relationship comes full circle at the end of the novel, with one of the most powerful scenes being towards the end. The beginning with the world-building was good, and the ending with the beautiful passages and exploration of mother/daughter bonds was good.
”I could interpret dreams. I could see what they meant for the future, for the dreamer, and I knew what this dream meant for me.Her most infamous dream comes in the form of her death, so of course she tries to figure out what it means, when it’s going to happen and how to prevent it. But is seems that after the dream part was figured out the magic aspect of the story simply stopped and failed to explain itself ever again. Aca-xuse me, but when you’re writing a book about magic, you kind of need to explain the, ya know, magic.
I will be killed. I will be murdered.
I’ve never been wrong before.”
“I though you said you weren’t desperate enough to take up with my magic,” he said. “What happened?”
I let out a high-pitched laugh. “What do you think? I got desperate enough…”
...because if I was not to be a witch, I would be a lady. I would have beautiful clothes and paintings and music and a husband and the well regards of society.
“You can have so much more, Avery, but to truly succeed, a woman needs money. Money and status and security…”
“…a normal girl with a tempest of magic inside of her.”
And I wanted him. I wanted him as surely as I wanted to breath…”
“...These days with you have meant more to me than anything else in my life."
…the boy with the checkerboard skin…

Instead, the magic in my tattoo streched out and met his, recognised it and welcomed it like something familiar, like coming home.
Hope—that stupid, silly creature that lived within me, no matter how often I tried to beat it to death—lifted its nose and sniffed at the air.
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