It’s December 2024, I’ve just completed my 31st trip around the sun, and at my birthday bash my best friend turns to me and says:
“HAVE YOU READ ACOTAR?”.
(No, the capitalisation is not for dramatic effect; she interrogated me at that exact level of veracity.)
“Have I read ACA-what now?,” was all I could offer.
“A Court of Thorns and Roses.”
Romance. Fantasy.
Faeries (no, not spelled the same as the British washing up liquid).
And yes, a little bit smutty.
I hadn’t been living under a rock, so obviously I had heard of this genre of novels sweeping the land. However, I had excluded myself from the readership on the premise that perhaps I was knocking on a bit, and that my ADHD could not keep up with fantasy. No matter how sexy.
That said, my best friend’s seal of approval is 10/10 solid, and the real world was chaos enough, I could do with the fictional excursion from planet Earth 2025.
ACATOR BOOK 1: SPOILERS AHEAD
What would happen if Beauty and the Beast and The Hunger Games had a baby and raised it on a steady diet of fantasy tropes, elaborate gowns, and aggressively attractive fae men?
Well, A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR) by Sarah J. Maas is what would happen!
A Court of Thorns and Roses is widely acknowledged by 20- and 30-somethings as the literary gateway drug to the fantasy genre via its much adored subgenre: Romantasy.
Book 1 in the ACOTAR series is digestible, easy to follow, and establishes a strong foundation for anyone looking to dip their toes into the world of magic, mayhem, and morally questionable fae High Lords.
Before we debate whether we’re TamFans or RhyStans, let’s give A Court of Thorns and Roses a proper House of Coco book club review.
And by review, I mean one novice fantasy reader’s (me) perspective on the viral series that has become a backbone of the #romantasy genre according to BookTok.
It’s also the kind of book that, despite its many absurdities, will have you finishing at 2 a.m. and immediately reaching for the sequel.
If you haven’t read ACOTAR yet:
- What are you doing? Grab yourself a copy. A Court of Thorns and Roses is the perfect page-turner for a long flight or lounging by the pool with a cocktail.
- Expect spoilers for Book 1 from here on.
Also, as a now certified part of the ACOTAR fandom, I must tell you NOT to research character art until you’ve finished the series.
Consider this your final warning to turn around and finish ACOTAR Book 1 first.
Right…
Hello, Feyre, darling…shall we begin?
Plot Breakdown: Kidnapping but Make It Romantic(?)
A Court of Thorns and Roses kicks off with our female protagonist (or FMC – female main character – if you’re on BookTok), Feyre Archeron, who falls neatly into the “beautiful but prickly” female central character trope.
You know the sort: barely nineteen, but has the wits of someone older. These traits instantly preempt her later companionship with a senior citizen (sorry five-hundred-odd year old High Lord that looks mid-twenties), but establish reader comfort with this notion early on. After all, our heroine can fend for herself, especially if it means defending herself almost exclusively with sarcastic comebacks.
(Feyre throughout most of Book 1)
And listen, I’m not here to judge, I love me an older man – get that bread (and other NSFW things), Feyre, girl!
But maybe there’s a world in which more fantasy/romantasy FMCs are a tad older – prefrontal cortex developed – kind of vibe? As a former creative writing lecturer, this isn’t a criticism, but perhaps one of those tropes I’d tell my students to find an original approach for.
If you’re looking for an escape into magical worlds filled with adventure and wonder, check out our list of The 4 Best Fantasy Books. This carefully curated selection will take you on unforgettable journeys through epic tales of heroism, mystery, and enchantment.
Here are my cliffnotes on who’s who before we all get confused:
Humans: Good.
High Fae: Human-hating, but super attractive baddies (faeries).
Prythian: Faerie-land (but let’s face it, it’s a map of the UK).
The Wall: Separates the human realm and Prythain – no humans can pass.
The Spring Court: Maybe good, maybe bad, High Fae.
The Night Court: Proper evil High Fae, but slaying in the fashion and interior design department.
Amarantha (also High Fae): She’s giving Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do” music video, but way less fun, and definitely not justified.
I digress, back to the plot.
ACOTAR’s setup surrounds Feyre and the Archeron family, who are struggling to survive in poverty in the mortal realm. Points for relatability here, because girl, in this economic climate? I feel your pain.
However, most of Feyre’s initial plight is caused by her sisters, Nesta and Elain, and their supposedly incompetent father, who assumes their family’s survival has nothing to do with them.
And then let’s not forget ACOTAR’s version of the oligarchy: the High Fae.
Feyre’s out hunting one day, because if the political landscape of ACOTAR isn’t already strained enough, there also isn’t a Marks and Spencer for miles. Thankfully, Feyre is well versed in piercing the skulls of unsuspecting woodland animals, but the tension is building swiftly.
Then she makes a classic rookie mistake: shooting a wolf that turns out to be way more than just a wolf. Honestly, she half suspects this wolf might be fae before sinking an arrow between its eyes, but when you’re hangry, needs must right?
From this inciting incident, ACOTAR jumps head first into utilising the reasonably common trope of our beautiful but prickly FMC who’s kidnapped by a mythical creature (in this instance a hot, tall, blonde Fae High Lord).
Enter Tamlin. Or whatever nickname you prefer to go with.
Feyre is snatched from her life of poverty and struggle as part of a bargain for murdering Tamlin’s friend (the wolf guy from above). In this “oh no, whatever shall I do moment?”, Feyre’s family barely suggests a counter offer before our heroine is whisked away beyond the Wall, only to be placed in a beautiful mansion with two super hot faerie males and forced to get rid of her rags and replace them with gorgeous dresses.
For some reason, Feyre, naturally, is furious about this turn of events.
Because what self-respecting fantasy heroine wants to wear silk gowns and lounge in a palace instead of starving in a hovel?
This leads to a prolonged period of Feyre attempting to escape, Tamlin trying to make her fall in love with him through awkward conversations, and Lucien (Tamlin’s snarky, redheaded bestie) trying to hold this entire book together with sheer sarcasm.
A Masked Mystery That’s Not That Mysterious
Because Sarah J. Maas wanted to keep the Beauty and the Beast parallels going but couldn’t bring herself to make her leading man ugly (gasp), she cursed Tamlin and his entire household to wear fancy gold masquerade masks… forever. Or so we’re led to believe.
The mask dilemma results in one of the book’s most unintentionally hilarious moments:
Feyre spending weeks agonising over what Tamlin’s face might look like, even though she can see everything except his forehead and nose.
The mental image of her staring at his chiseled jawline and cheekbones while whispering, “What could he possibly look like? ” is nothing short of comedy gold.
To be fair, we’ve probably all had that same dilemma when trying to work out if a guy is lying about his height on Tinder.
The Infamous Fiddle Serenade: Peak Romantic Ick
One of the most cringeworthy yet iconic moments in ACOTAR comes when Tamlin, our mighty, brooding, fearsome High Lord of the Spring Court, decides to serenade Feyre with a fiddle solo.
That’s right, a fiddle solo.
In any other context, this would be a red flag so large it could be seen from space. Still, because Feyre is malnourished and emotionally stunted, she finds it profoundly moving instead of deeply embarrassing.
A strong case could be made that this was when she should have packed her bags and gone home. We’ll reserve our judgement, though. Fae wine was involved, and heaven knows we’ve all made decisions that led to one or two regrets while under the influence.
Other notable moments that include Tamlin being the Fae embodiment of human headache:
He’s the patriarchy’s biggest weapon for many a chapter with his insistence that Feyre need not be privy to any man’s work or speakings. A.K.A sweet eff all, as Tamlin spends the majority of the book having meltdowns in one way or another.
Oh, and to top it off, Tamlin’s ridiculous Calanmai tradition where he effectively tells Feyre, “stay inside, human captive, while I go do the unthinkable with another woman this eve”, effectively using the excuse “it’s natural male instincts”, but festive edition.
We know our strong independent FMC, Feyre, doesn’t listen to no man, so off she toddles into the first of many debaucherous happenings in the ACOTAR series.
And then we meet Rhysand…
MOVING ON!
Sarah J. Maas’ Signature ‘Last 100 Pages of Chaos’
The book coasts along at a steady, if slightly slow, pace until we reach the final 100 pages, where all hell predictably breaks loose. The plot swerves into full Hunger Games mode as an evil fae queen, Amarantha, swoops in and kidnaps literally everyone. Yes, including blondie locks, Tammers.
As the expected damsel in distress, Tamlin forces Feyre to undergo a series of deadly trials to save him and break the curse. Because of course she does.
And yes, I was referring to Tamalam as the damsel. Bro couldn’t even offer a wafer of encouragement.
Anyway, Feyre has two options:
- Complete three near-impossible challenges
- Solve a single, straightforward riddle
Naturally, she chooses the challenges. And when she finally decides to attempt the riddle, it takes her an unforgivable amount of time to figure out the painfully obvious answer (spoiler: it’s ‘love’).
Not tooting my own fiddle solo, but I got it within a sentence or two BECAUSE IT WAS OBVIOUS, FEYRE!
Readers everywhere let out a collective sigh of frustration.
But to be fair, Feyre had a lot on her plate considering the supposed love of her life (yes, Tamlin, that’s your cue), sat on his botty and did sweet nothing while she faced death square in the face.
Multiple. Times.
Enter: Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court
One of the most significant introductions in this book is Rhysand – the “most beautiful man Feyre has ever seen,” which is saying something, considering she’s surrounded by fae who look like Abercrombie models.
Rhysand is everything Tamlin is not: dark-haired, morally ambiguous, and dangerously powerful. He’s also the one person in this book who actually helps Feyre in her trials, as Tamlin is so utterly useless that he may as well be a decorative vase.
Rhysand, being the opportunist that he is, secures a bargain with Feyre: she must spend one week per month with him in the infamous Night Court, known for its debauchery, power, and edgy aesthetics.
Feyre agrees, because at this point, she’s grasping at straws.
The Classic Maas Death-That’s-Not-Really-a-Death
Feyre sacrifices herself to break Amarantha’s curse when all hope is lost. But don’t worry – within a matter of pages, she’s resurrected and upgraded to full High Fae status, because Sarah J. Maas would never let her protagonist suffer the consequences of their choices for too long.
I mean there are four more books in the series, so…
Crisis averted!
Final Thoughts: Fun, Flawed, and Highly Addictive
Ultimately, A Court of Thorns and Roses is a fun, binge-worthy introduction to the world of Prythian. It’s packed with classic fantasy tropes, dramatic love interests, and just enough plot to entertain you.
While it has its fair share of “why is this happening,” moments, A Court of Thorns and Roses lays the groundwork for what will become a wilder (and far more dramatic) series.
And yes, despite what you may have heard – the series does get ridiculously addictive from Book 2: A Court of Mist and Fury.
Keep your eyes peeled for that review coming very soon!
Bonus Highlight: The Suriel, the Most Relatable Character in the Book
One of the standout side characters is the Suriel, a creepy, all-knowing fae creature whose primary weaknesses include:
- Cloaks
- Chicken
- Spilling piping hot gossip
Frankly, this makes it the most relatable character in the entire book.
Would I recommend A Court of Thorns and Roses? Absolutely. Just go in knowing that you’ll be side-eyeing Tamlin’s life choices, questioning Feyre’s taste in men, and desperately wishing you had a fae makeover of your own.
A bit like our bestie, the Suriel.
Rating: 4 out of 5 dramatic fae bargains
