Fans of Nghi Vo will be very happy with this story about angels, demons, and the fall and rebirth of a city. Vo's signature style, detailed and cutting descriptions of beauty and tragedy, and strong characters really capture the devastation and heartbreak at the core of the narrative, and invite readers to sit with our somewhat otherworldly protagonists and experience this loss as they do. If I had any complaints, it would be that due to the ruin of the city that it takes quite some time for more established characters to be added to the tale, and I found myself wanting more active people instead of memories. While this choice feels very much intentional, given what happened to the city and how our main point of view character is also actively wishing that society would just come back already, it did make for some slow reading at the start.

If Nghi Vo writes it, I will read it. However, I got to be honest, I’m not sure what to think about this particular piece. I went in expecting Vo’s evocative and rich writing, paired with queer characters and an interesting story. I mostly got that. I have to say, normally I adore her writing and I find it the strong point in the books that I haven’t cared much for. However, for this novel, the writing was too much. It felt like I was trying to pull my mind and the plot through molasses. I don’t even know if I can properly explain it, but others have compared it to This is How You Lose the Time War and I think that is pretty accurate. If you liked the way that was written you’ll probably be fine here. I DNF’d that and I probably would have DNF’d this if it hadn’t been for Nghi Vo and the fact that people were promising me enemies to lovers.

I am still in love and utterly enchanted by every installment of the Singing Hills Cycle that Nghi Vo releases. They are bits of literature that breath life into me and part of the reason that I consider myself a fan of Nghi Vo, however, I haven’t really enjoyed her work outside of that world. I haven’t hated any of her other things, they just didn’t give me the same feels. The City in Glass is the same. I didn’t hate it, but honestly I didn’t love it. To an extent I’m still not sure what I think about it. At times, I was vibing and quite happy with it, other times I questioned if Nghi Vo had actually written it.

The plot of this is mostly watching the rebuilding of a civilization after its downfall. Vitrine watches over her city and its people. She also banters and tortures an angel that has “fallen in love” with her. Honestly though, this is very much an all vibes book. Even the enemies to lovers plot point is weak considering there are expanses of the book where Vitrine and the angel don’t speak to each other and aren’t even in the same area. I’ve been sitting on writing this review because I thought I would know how I felt closer to release and that’s just not the case.

For me, this is a strange little book that ultimately just landed middle of the road for me. It had so many elements that I adore: enemies to lovers, city building, angels and demons, and queer characters. However, the writing was just… thick? I don’t know how to explain it. Copious amounts of words? I don’t know. I wanted more from the characters or the plot and less from the writing.

Overall, I think that some fans of Nghi Vo will just gobble this up. I think that if you’re okay with weird little works that are mostly vibes, you’ll be fine with this. If you like books where the beginning feels like an end and the end feels like a beginning, this could be for you. If you’re here for enemies to lovers, go somewhere else. I don’t know where, but I don’t think this will give you what you want. Especially if you want feels. I still don’t really know how I feel about this, but I’m still excited for whatever Nghi Vo comes out with next.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an eARC of this novel, however, all thoughts and opinions are my own.

I was drawn in by the comparison to one of my all-time favourite books, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, but unfortunately I think that is highly misleading and incorrect marketing. There is no humour here, except the blackest, grimmest Death's Head-grin sort.

This is an incredibly difficult story to describe, especially without spoilers.

Imagine you're lost in a strange, sprawling city. You think you're going in one direction, but the group around you sweeps you away and you're pulled down meandering, labyrinthine passageways and alleys. Some show glimpses to wonder and delight; others show horrors to stun and disturb. A chiaroscuro, a combination of darkness and light, ever shifting and changing like a kaleidoscope.

Over centuries, two figures warily circle each other: the demon Vitrine, patroness of the ruined City, and the Angel who participated - for unknown reasons - in it's ruin and was cursed to remain outcast from his own kind by Vitrine's wrath.

If it is a love story, it is not a kind love, or a love worth keeping.

The language can be beautiful and hideous, often in the same sentences.

Although the story centers almost claustrophobically on the widely spaced encounters between Vitrine and the Angel, the two remain at a distance not only from each other, their kin and themselves (neither seems to know even their own motivations) but from the reader. It's impossible to feel for either character and the fleeting human lives that Vitrine marks in her secret book are as ephemeral as fireflies, or sparking embers.

Ultimately, it's an uneasy story that leaves a blurred, uncertain impression like a dark fever dream. I am glad I read it, but I can't say that I enjoyed it. Thought-provoking in some ways but hopelessly obscure in others - or, perhaps, that is the entire point?

Thanks to NetGalley and Tor Publishing Group for the eARC and chance to review

4.5 stars rounded up

The City in Glass is a slow, thoughtful examination of many lifetimes in a city through the perspective of the immortal demon who loves it and watches over the people who inhabit it. And the angel who once destroyed it and is now trapped by a part of the demon. He also will learn to love the city and love her. By turns melancholy and biting, I would definitely call this literary fantasy. It's filled with evocative prose, and the bittersweetness of time. Cycles of life and death, destruction and rebirth. It's not going to be for everyone but I thought it was beautiful. I'm not a fan of the audio narrator for this one. I started listening to it, but ended up deciding to just read it physically. I received a copy of this book for review, all opinions are my own.

The City in Glass by Nghi Vo was a brilliant read. Nghi Vo is a fantastically talented author and The City in Glass delivered. The story is mesmerizing and the writing is a whole other level. I cannot recommend this book enough.

Brilliant and evocative, The City in Glass is unlike any other novel I've read. It's many things at once: a slow, centuries-spanning romance between an angel and a demon; a portrait of a city through destruction and rebirth; a study in grief and what it means to belong to something and have it belong to you. Nghi Vo's prose is surprising and elegant; a modern master.

Nghi Vo's novella "The City in Glass" is a mesmerizing and deeply emotional journey that transcends the typical boundaries of fantasy fiction. With its lyrical prose and intricate narrative, this book delves into the complexities of love, loss, and the long, arduous path to redemption.

The story begins with a dramatic premise: an angel, among the divine beings responsible for destroying a centuries-old city meticulously built by a demon named Vitrine. In her fury and despair, Vitrine curses the angel, binding a piece of her essence to him, leading to his ostracism by his own kind. This curse sets the stage for a poignant exploration of two beings caught in an eternal dance of creation and destruction.

Vitrine, driven by an indomitable spirit, returns to the ruins of her beloved city, determined to rebuild it from the ashes. The angel, equally compelled by a sense of duty and inexplicable devotion, finds himself aiding her in this endeavor. However, their relationship is fraught with tension and unresolved emotions, epitomized by Vitrine's demand for the angel to leave for fifty years—a command he obeys out of sheer devotion. Upon his return, having gained a deeper understanding of humanity and accompanied by refugees seeking shelter, the angel must humble himself, begging Vitrine to allow them sanctuary. The ultimate sacrifice comes when he willingly offers his wings, the symbol of his freedom, to Vitrine, a gesture that speaks volumes about his commitment to their shared cause.

Vo's storytelling is both haunting and beautiful, weaving a non-linear narrative that mirrors the fragmented nature of grief and memory. The City of Azril, the heart of Vitrine's world, is as much a character as the demon and the angel, its rebirth and decay reflecting the emotional and psychological states of its inhabitants. The city's spectral presence lingers through the lives of its human residents, who are subtly aware of Vitrine's influence, adding layers of mysticism and melancholy to the tale.

At the core of this novella are two profound romances: Vitrine's deep, almost maternal love for her city, and her complex, evolving relationship with the angel who once destroyed it. This is not a straightforward love story; it is an exploration of how love can emerge from the ashes of hatred and loss. Vo captures the delicate balance between these emotions with a deft hand, making the eventual peace and mutual understanding between Vitrine and the angel feel both inevitable and hard-won.

Vitrine is an intriguingly multi-faceted character, embodying both demonic and human traits. Her fierce determination and vulnerability make her a compelling protagonist. The angel, whose name is never revealed, serves as a perfect foil to Vitrine, his journey from divine destroyer to a humbled, wingless companion mirroring the novella's themes of transformation and redemption. Their relationship is the emotional backbone of the story, a slow-burn progression from enmity to a tentative, fragile peace.

"The City in Glass" is not an easy read; its non-linear structure and heavy themes demand careful attention and emotional investment. However, for those willing to engage with its poetic storytelling and rich symbolism, it offers a deeply rewarding experience. Vo's prose is nothing short of exquisite, capturing the aching beauty of a city and its inhabitants struggling to rebuild in the aftermath of divine wrath.

Nghi Vo's "The City in Glass" is a masterpiece of fantasy literature, blending elements of myth, romance, and existential reflection into a seamless whole. It stands out as a poignant meditation on the nature of grief, the possibility of redemption, and the enduring power of love in its many forms. This novella is a must-read for fans of experimental, emotionally resonant storytelling, and it firmly establishes Vo as a unique and powerful voice in the genre.

Ultimately I just don’t think this author is for me. The writing is at times lyrical and at other times a bit choppy and I struggle to grasp the characters or plot. It feels like a lot of vague motions without feeling like the pacing is tight enough to move us forward.

It seems Nghi Vo possibly likes to play around with the scale of her stories. In The Empress of Salt and Fortune, the small becomes the large; items spiral out to become stories. In her new novel (a short one, but she assures us, definitely a novel), she plays something of the reverse trick. Or possibly both at the same time. The story follows a demon, Vitrine, in the city she has helped shape for many years, a city that welcomed her as a refugee from her original, fallen home. She has curated it, whispered in the ear of its leaders, artists, librarians and pirates, sculpting it like a gardener with a well-tended hedge. And then, right at the start of the story, it is destroyed. Angels sweep in, unexplained, and put it to fire and the sword. All her work is gone. The story is of the aftermath, her memories and gried sweeping her up, telling stories of the large, spiralling down into the smallness of one single existence - her own - while reciprocally telling that grander scale through the moments of its individuals, day by day and year by year.

If it brings to mind anything - I'm not sure it truly does; it's a singular book in many ways - it is The City of Last Chances by Adrian Tchaikovsky. At the simplest level, they are both stories of the soul of a city, told through a chorus of its inhabitants. The difference, however, is a big one. Where for Tchaikovsky the story of the city is the purpose in and of itself (and a very well executed one), for Vo here, the story of the city is only a half of what's going on. The rest is the story of Vitrine herself, and her care at that macro scale, using the humans that inhabit her city - and she is fiercely possessive of it, even after its downfall - as tools to shape it, things that can be discarded, that will pass even as the city endures, not stories or ends themselves. Vitrine lives outside of the scale of human life, and so the story must expand outwards, beyond those boundaries, to attempt to contain her.

This presents itself both subtly and unsubtly throughout. One of the most pleasing reflexes of it is the offhand remarks about how long Vitrine takes applying herself to a given task - stretched out into the days, weeks or months as debris falls and bodies rot around her in the aftermath. We observe the story through Vitrine's scale, experiencing events in a way that feels natural because it is natural to her, but then are jarred into awareness by these little comments, slipped around the edges, reminding us that nothing about her sits naturally with us, however it may feel in the moment. This is someone who can remain sat in one place for months, who can wait out a river. Vo manages to marry an extremely human and an extremely extra-human sense of wonder and scale throughout, with Vitrine's emotional reactions - intense, moving ones - lending accessibility to the broader scope of the story.

Where Tchaikovsky gives us the full view of his city by using multiple viewpoints, seeing it differently through each new set of eyes, Vo does is by using the same eyes, but seeing those people. There's a continuity that brings - Vitrine has been there and can keep on seeing, so can pull herself out of the "now", because she too experienced the "then". She can see change on a scale inaccessible to a mortal.

Even if it were only that, even if it were just a story of one demon's grief of her lost city, and the back and forward tale of its past and future circling around its apocalypse, it would be interesting enough. The prose is lovely, often bringing up moments of beautiful description, especially of colour and texture. You get a sense of the city as a physical place, as well as a cultural one, and for the complex mass of people moving within it. The beauty slips in even in the darker, more visceral moments of death and destruction and dismemberment. It is a lovely thing to read, just to exist in its descriptions and flowing use of language, just to be embedded within Vitrine's perspective on the world, swinging between abject sorrow, rage and a sort of wry humour about herself and the people she has experienced in her city.

For example:

Like comets who found the earth too cruel

or:

She was a thing that had been pared down by pain until there was only a sliver of her left, and everything she had regained, from the top of her dark head to her gleaming black eyes, to her sharp white teeth to her brown skin hectic with a madder blush, she had made herself.

For a story so concerned with the grander scale, it is one profoundly unafraid of the physical, and it is enriched by it.

But it is not only that - the city, at the start of the book, is destroyed by angels, but not all of those angels escape unscathed by the angry demon who tries to stop them. One, cursed by Vitrine, returns. Keeps returning. And so, as well as the story of her city, it is the story of these two immortal beings, tied together by a cataclysm that was almost beyond human terms of reference, that they both lived through (though no unscathed). Theirs is a complex relationship outside of the usual human frame of reference, and one that takes the whole book to develop, not reaching its climax (no, not like that) until the very end of the story.

I want to stress here, it's not a simple enemies to lovers type of romance story. Whatever they are moment to moment, neither Vitrine nor the unnamed angel (she is not particularly interested in small talk with him) exist on a human level, with human emotions on a human scale. Whatever they experience with, through and around each other somewhat defies description. It is just that - experience. It is a string of captured moments that become something more, but evade categorisation.

Which makes it rather hard to review. I don't, honestly, quite know what I think ultimately passes between these two characters, by the end of the story. It feels profound. It feels intense. But I don't think I entirely understand it. Instead, it sits in my head, making me wonder, making me chew at it, considering. I want to reread it, to ponder it again. It is the good sort of incomprehension, of a thing that may be currently evading me, but is graspable, and will be worth the time spent in reaching for it.

What I do know, even without that understanding, is that Vo has done a fantastic job in capturing a sense of two beings beyond the scale of human lives, who nonetheless interact with them. Vitrine and the angel feel different to one another, and yet also similar, tied to the same outsideness, that immunity to mortal scale, that makes them both alien and compelling to the reader. The holy is a rare sight in SFF - even more so than the religious - but there is something of it here, in the unknowable actions of powers beyond mortal control, seeking to reckon with one another in rules that are never stated, with powers that exist within a framework of intuition, not hard logic. They are as they are, and do as they do, and exist together, in this space for a little time, as we observe them, but cannot grasp them. The scene early on, in which Vitrine witnesses the destruction of her city, is powerful for its distance, its cold incomprehensibility. It's awful. But it also has the feeling of something so utterly beyond human power that nudges into the sort of boundaries quite apart from "magic" in the commonly used modern sense. If it is magic, it is at a scale beyond the individual, and thus its grandeur.

Wholly different from her other work, there is nonetheless an extremely distinctive feel of Vo here throughout, the deftness of her descriptions, the fierceness of her protagonist. It is a beautiful, sad, evocative story, that manages to compress something enormous and otherworldly into something graspable and personified, in a way that seems quite unique. It is thoughtful, provocative, and full of depth, and a story I think will reward multiple reads, and intensive discussion. I enjoyed it immensely.

ok, this one is weird in such a niche way that it’s hard to describe or know who to recommend it to. CITY is written in a very abstract, conceptual way that holds you at arm’s distance, but is also very lyrical and fairy tale-esque. it’s not plot driven but not really character driven either; instead the main driver of the story is the setting of the city and how it grows over hundreds of years (with the help of an angel and a demon, whose relationship is the secondary driver of the story). overall, I did like it a lot though I’m not sure I know who the right audience is for it.

I was hooked from the first interaction between Vitrine and her angel. Vo has given us a dynamic plot and layered characters. I have always loved to read of demons and angels that do not conform to the accepted. With behaviour that is familiar and not, we follow Vitrine and Angel as their relationship changes and grows, as their feelings twist and twine, as one searches to understand what he has wrought and the other yearns for the return of what was destroyed.

Vo's creativity will always delight which will keep me coming back to her work.

Beautifully written, but a touch too distance for what I wanted from the premise. I also finished this a week ago and I forgot a lot of what happened.

Flowing with gorgeous prose and filled with achingly beautiful imagery, this mythological treatment of an ancient city is ultimate a shallow narrative that doesn’t even fill the novella length. The pace still remains incredibly slow and the development between the angel and demon is diluted by the confusing cast of side characters. A great idea that wasn’t fully realized.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for my copy. These opinions are my own.

A demon, Vitrine, curses an angel after the angel destroys her beloved city Azril. Vitrine begins rebuilding the city after processing her immense grief and the angel joins her as he can no longer return home. What follows is a beautiful study of love, starting over and what it means to change.

This book was absolutely stunning and refreshingly unique. I deeply love stories that are morally complex and 'The City in Glass' is definitely that. Are Vitrine, the angel or the humans good or are they bad? A binary answer would be boring and the book recognizes that. Instead we get a moving character study of a demon who manages to be human and inhuman at the same time in a way that makes perfect sense. This is not so much a love story between an angel and demon but instead a love story between an angel, a demon, a city and its inhabitants. We get to see love in all of its forms and how that love can change over time. Believe me when I say that this book will sit with you for a long time in a good way.

My only minor complaint is that the pacing was a tad too slow.

Reviews going live on Goodreads, Storygraph and Fable on 10/2 and on Tiktok on 10/4.

Almost everything has a life cycle, including cities.

Vitrine, a rather modest demon that just wants a place to call their own, has watched the city of Azril grow from the rubble and ruin of a city long-gone to a masterpiece. It’s her city, full of her people, and she loves it so.

But, as we all know. Rome fell in less than a day. Azril did too, when angels came for it. The only thing keeping Vitrine from burying herself under a mountain and going into an eternal slumber is that she has someone she can punish for this violation: an angel she somehow marked before he could make it back behind the gates. He can’t return home unless she takes back what she’s done to him, but so long as he’s marked he belongs to her; and oh, how she likes the idea of the angel belonging to her when he’s one of those that took everything from her.

It’s been said before by many people, but I’ll join in with the chorus: This book is unbelievably good. Nghi Vo is one of my auto-buy authors for a reason: Her standalone novel writing is incomparable, always straddling a fine line between fantasy and magical realism with the style, construction, and depth of meaning that comes from literary fiction. Vo has a magical and prodigious talent for using fantasy to examine the human condition, never flinching from pointing out the worst in us. It’s painful but beautiful, sad but soothing.

There are passages in this book that wound my heart up into a tangled ball of emotion and others that wrapped tight around it in grief. It’s a must-read book for 2024. 5 Stars.

I was provided a copy of this title by the author and publisher via Netgalley. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.

File Under: 5 Star Review/Dark Fantasy/Literary Fiction/Supernatural Fantasy

I LOVED this book. A beautiful ode to a city that had me falling in love with the city as much as Vitrine did.

Nghi Vo truly gives us a wonderful character (but city) study on the city of Azril. I laughed and cried, was happy and sad, as change always can evoke such strong emotions but in the context of this novel was absolutely captivating.

This will absolutely be a book I recommend to those loving lyrical prose, the vibes of This is How You Lose the Time War, enemies to lovers, angels and demons and the beauty of change over time.

As always this is the type of story where Nghi Vo absolutely shines and proves why she has probably my favorite writing in modern Literature. The characters, the dynamics, the whimsy and loose-ness of the story - literally everything was perfect!

Nghi Vo’s, The Singing Hills Cycle, is one of my favorite series, so I was interested in checking out her latest story, The City in Glass. Essentially, this is a tale about a ruined city that might rise again from its ashes, a demon, an angel, and the strange tumultuous sort-of fascination/love story between the two.

The City in Glass was engaging from the very first page. It begins with a revelry, the fall of the city, and the demon, Vitrine’s effort to rebuild what she lost. Despite the book’s short length, the actual timespan of the story was hundreds of years with sporadic time skips, which sometimes spanned as long as decades. The book was written incredibly well and with enough detail to give the characters—particularly Vitrine—and Azril a rich history.

A large part of the book was dedicated to—and lingered on—Vitrine’s grief as well as her memories of the people and the place she’d lost. During these flashbacks, it was clear how much she’d loved the city of Azril, following generations of families, shaping the place into what it was before everything ended, like a gardener. Her grief was, for lack of better terms, consuming, and The City in Glass allowed Vitrine to go through these stages. It was messy—she was prone to giving into her rage, lashed out, and wanted to be left alone with memories and ghosts—but it drove home the devastation. The way she wanted to linger in the past reminded me of a short story I read earlier this year (Something Small Enough to Ask For by Anamaria Curtis), and the lesson for that main character was ultimately a similar one. Stay in the past or finally move forward? As character arcs go, Vitrine’s was a good one.

One avenue that I was pretty undecided on (and still am), was how the relationship landed, whether it worked as well as some of the other aspects of The City in Glass or not—especially with the way the story ended. On one hand, I understand Vitrine had to work through her grief and come to terms with the angel’s role in it. While on the other hand, some of the angel and Vitrine’s best moments were when they communicated, when there was this push-and-pull albeit with a sense of burgeoning closeness and understanding (even frustration and anger) with each other. However, I wish there had been more of it, or at least a little more of the angel’s perspective on the situation, particularly before the end.

Despite how conflicted I was about the aforementioned, it wasn’t bad actually. In fact, The City in Glass was thoroughly engaging and enjoyable, and I know I’ll be thinking about it for a long time.

Disclaimer: this copy of the book was provided by the publisher (TorDotCom) via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review, thank you!

The City in Glass will be published October 1. Thank you Tor and Tordotcom for the ARC in exchange for an honest review because I love love love Nghi Vo’s writing. Siren Queen and What The Dead Know were two of my favorite reads last year. The City in Glass followed their lead and confirmed that I will read anything written by Vo.

City in Glass follows Vitrine, a demon whose essence takes the form of a glass cabinet with a book inside. Exiled from her first city, Vitrine finds herself in Azril, a city that she spends hundreds of years crafting and influencing and pouring herself into to make it almost exactly as she wanted. For each human who impacts Vitrine, she writes a little bit of them into her book.

But, all good things must come to an end. Angels descend on Azril and destroy the city. As the angels leave, Vitrine curses one of them, flinging part of herself into his heart, and he falls in love. She hates him. Like, what? I love it.

What follows is the aftermath - does Vitrine continue on, what’s the point of recreating what’s been lost? Time passes differently for demons, and I really enjoyed the non-linear aspect of the book. Vitrine’s relationship with the nameless angel was also one I came to appreciate. His love for her is painful, all-encompassing, and sacrificial. She has literally cursed him and hates him. How their feelings soften over the centuries is a nice progression.

And that ending! I don’t want to give anything away, but I was surprised but then ultimately not surprised. On reflection, I really loved The City in Glass. Fans of This Is How You Lose the Time War, Alix E. Harrow, and obviously Vo herself will really enjoy this book.

The City in Glass is a gorgeous piece of writing. Nghi Vo is able to wind together words so stunningly, creating and implementing turns of phrases that are so poetic and impactful. I adore this prose.

The story itself is also gorgeous. We follow Vitrine, a demon struck by grief following the opening events of the story. She is a study in multi-layered character work and crafting a character that you can love and hate in equal measure. Grief, history, and destruction are all major themes of the book and you are held within the world of Vitrine as she comes to terms with her new reality—as well as a new partner from whom she cannot escape (and vice versa). I enjoyed their relationship dynamic, the way that it flowed and the way that it ended, I especially appreciate that ending and Vo's choice to not overtly push something that may not fit the narrative.