Review of Cry, Voidbringer by R.J. Burch
When I first laid eyes on Cry, Voidbringer, I was captivated by its evocative title and striking cover art. It promised a journey into a world filled with turmoil, complex characters, and the weight of unyielding political machinations. I even approached this adult fantasy debut by R.J. Burch with a hint of trepidation, worried that my sky-high expectations would lead to disappointment. However, what I found within its pages was a brutal yet beautiful experience that left me both breathless and introspective.
The heart of Cry, Voidbringer is undoubtedly its flawed characters, each bearing scars that speak to the trauma and turmoil of their world. Hammer, our badass female main character, is not just a brutal powerhouse conscripted into the ‘faceless’; she’s a muscle mommy whose strength becomes a beacon of resilience. Crescent complements her as the reverse grumpy x sunshine dynamic, embodying a rich emotional spectrum that resonated with me deeply. Even younger characters like Viridian, a child stolen from her home, add layers of complexity to a found family theme that feels both authentic and poignant.
Initially, I found the pacing slow and some elements bewildering, but as the narrative unfurled, the layers of betrayal, war, and personal strife became a riveting rollercoaster. The twists kept coming, and I found myself oscillating between heartbreak and exhilaration. It’s a raw, gritty tale that confronts themes of grief, war, and the failures of power, encapsulated perfectly in the quote, “Change doesn’t benefit those already in power.” This quote reverberates throughout the book and left me pondering my own views on societal structures and resistance.
Burch’s writing style is a delightful contradiction—elegant yet brutally honest. I was particularly struck by the way the narrative alternated between first and third person, creating a complex web of perspectives that drew me in. The poetic descriptions of even the most gruesome events invited me to reflect on the stark realities of war and survival. However, I wish there had been a map; the world-building was so rich that at times, I struggled to visualize the locations and events clearly.
One of the elements I appreciated most was the natural queer representation. Multiple queer characters exist, not as mere tokens, but as fully fleshed individuals with their own motivations and flaws. This inclusion felt organic and enriching, adding depth to the narrative without becoming the sole focus.
As I turned the last pages, I felt a swell of gratitude for my past self, who insisted on continuing through the heavier, more challenging moments in the story. While Cry, Voidbringer starts slow, it ultimately delivers a triumphant emotional punch, leaving a lasting impact.
In conclusion, I would recommend Cry, Voidbringer to fellow readers yearning for a richly layered fantasy novel that challenges perceptions of power, love, and loss. Whether you’re looking for intricate political intrigue or complex character arcs, this book has it all. R.J. Burch’s debut is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit—hidden beneath the gore and chaos lies a narrative that is utterly heartwarming, and I can’t wait to grab a physical copy when it’s released. Dive into this world if you’re ready to be challenged—and enchanted.