‘“For too long the islands have suffered, have been left to fend for themselves through terrible adversity.” I pause. “Well, not any more. This is my vow: I will never stop fighting for you.”‘
It’s been around a year since I read and loved Viper, the first instalment of Bex Hogan’s swashbuckling fantasy adventure trilogy. By the end of Viper, the protagonist, Marianne, is the leader of a gang of fierce sea-faring assassins, but has discovered she has some unexpected royal lineage, which gives her a unique vantage point to unite the opposing Eastern and Western isles. As well as this – as if she didn’t have enough on her plate – she’s suddenly realised she can tap into her hidden magic powers. Since leaving Marianne at this point, I’ve had time to reflect on the plot – interesting, fast-placed, traumatic (I will never recover from the Floral Isle. EVER.) – and the characters – all well-rounded, three-dimensional, and occupying places in my heart (I was fortunate to meet Bex Hogan at YALC last year, and I basically begged her to let Torin and Sharpe be safe and happy. Her response? Evil cackling.), and get excited for Book 2.
Let’s just say that in my innocent excitement, I was wildly unprepared for the sheer emotional rollercoaster that was Venom.
Bex Hogan established a world and its lore in Book 1. In Book 2, she cracked her knuckles and went: ‘Right. LET’S MAKE IT INTERESTING.’ By interesting, she means hurting all your favourite characters and tearing your heart to shreds, but in an incredibly satisfying way.
I very contentedly read Venom in two sittings, as it does not let up for a single moment. Within the first fifty pages, having settled down to read and unwind before going to bed, I was wheezing and clutching at my tattered heartstrings, and by the one-hundred-page mark, I realised I would definitely not be going to bed at a reasonable hour.
I think where a lot of fantasy – both YA and adult – tends to stagnate for me is in the exposition, where plots are drawn out in long passages about journeys of self-discovery, and characters repetitively mull over their destinies for pages on end. Fortunately, Venom doesn’t suffer from this at all. The pacing is excellent; the high-octane action scenes are spread evenly throughout the book, and are interspersed with scenes of dialogue and streams of consciousness that keep the plot moving, while occasionally allowing the reader time to recover. Every page is utilised to move the story onwards, and to build on the wider trilogy arc, which, having been hinted at in Viper, is now in full-swing. Indeed, Marianne’s plot to unite the Eastern and Western isles is in progress… but despite her best intentions, things just keep seeming to get in the way:
[100% accurate depiction of standard Marianne behaviour]
Marianne: (Minding own business)
Random Citizen: (Screams loudly) HELP ME!
Marianne: (Looks left) (looks right) …Oh FFS.
(Marianne parkours off ship to assist Random Citizen, and somehow manages to make everything worse)
As a protagonist, Marianne is generally a very relatable character. She makes smart decisions and appalling ones in equal measure, though her rationale behind these choices is always refreshingly believable. At no point does she surrender entirely to ‘lost royalty’ and ‘chosen one’ fantasy tropes; instead of acting predictably, Marianne is a realistic person making decisions that make sense for her. This is not to say that I don’t enjoy predictable fantasy plots – only that Marianne convincingly errs between good and bad on a level that makes sense with her past trauma, and unlike some protagonists, she doesn’t leap at the opportunity to lead, and nor is she able to just walk into a position of power. The burden of saving the world isn’t necessarily her problem, but she makes it her problem. Much like Jude from the Cruel Prince series, Marianne claws her way to the top the hard, gritty, satisfying way. She’s fierce, unrelenting, and does not take kindly to being underestimated by men three times her size. Her loyalty to her crew and her found family is unwavering, and despite being fated to save the world, everything she does admirably boils down to protecting those she loves (and who the reader, inevitably, loves too): Prince Torin; Sharpe, Torin’s lover; Bronn, her partner. That said, like Jude, Marianne definitely deserves a break.
As far as writing style goes, Venom is not necessarily a flowery, descriptive book, but it doesn’t need to be. The pace is maintained by snappy dialogue and the fast-moving plot, but throughout, the worldbuilding is wonderful, the peril is convincing, and the characters are incredibly well-rounded. One thing that stood out for me is how Bex Hogan manages to make every single new character she introduces instantly likeable and relevant, to the point where it feels like they were part of the narrative all along. New characters Olwyn and Ravyn get a special shout-out, as I absolutely adored them, but I found myself feeling even for Lilah and Raoul, who only appear fleetingly. I always have a lot of admiration for authors who can do this; side-characters can easily come across as distractions if they’re not sufficiently fleshed-out or believable.
Taking all this into account, Venom left me pretty breathless. I think it’s easy to give a book a high rating when you’re completely hooked to the point of binge-reading it, but even upon reflection, it is an incredibly strong book, and I’m completely full of praise for it. Needless to say, I’ll be impatiently counting down the days until the release of the trilogy finale, Vulture. I won’t say exactly what I muttered when I saw the release date was a year away, as it was fairly explicit, but let’s just say I instantly knew I would struggle to wait (especially after that ending!). I’ll also be continuing to beg Bex Hogan to keep Torin and Sharpe safe, regardless of how much evil cackling I receive in response. A girl can dream.
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
I’d like to thank 5 Get Bookish from @HachetteKids for the reading copy.