Originally posted on GoodReads.

Synopsis: Nettie Lonesome made a leap — not knowing what she'd become. But now the destiny of the Shadow is calling. A powerful alchemist is leaving a trail of dead across the prairie. And the Shadow must face the ultimate challenge: side with her friends and the badge on her chest or take off alone on the dangerous mission pulling her inexorably toward the fight of her life. When it comes to monsters and men, the world isn't black and white. What good are two wings and a gun when your enemy can command a conspiracy of ravens? Conspiracy of Ravens continues the exciting journey begun in Wake of Vultures as Nettie Lonesome discovers that she, and the world, are more than what they seem.

Rating: 5/5

Once again, we're back in the saddle alongside Nettie Lonesome in the increasingly weird Wild West, with her ragtag group of misfit friends (more on that later), and from a series that tackles gender and sexuality in ways I didn't think I'd ever see from YA fiction.

So, let's get riding. (Haha, get it? Writing. Riding. Because this is a review. Yeehaw.)

You know how there's a thing about sequels never being as good as the originals? (I don't believe that's always true, just for reference.) Well, you can chuck that out the door because this one is absolutely just as good. Bowen's second book picks up immediately after the last page of Wake of Vultures (thanks for that literal cliffhanger... I really don't think many people can make a literal cliffhanger work that well anymore, to be honest, so kudos to her) and dives into a new mission, new friends, new territory, and a new identity for Nettie. The plot delves into such fantastical concepts — gods, unicorns, Sasquatches, dragons, etc. — that at one point, I really was the John Mulaney "this might as well happen" meme. Not in a bad way, though. Like a "holy crap, this is so cool but also, damn, Rhett's life is so g-ddamn weird, this might as well happen to him" way.

Speaking of the plot, though, that is, in my opinion, where the sequel falls a little short on its rope. The pacing isn't as crisp and tight as Wake of Vultures, and while the beginning introduces Earl and his need for the Rangers' help well, a large chunk of the book deals with the group traveling to Lamartine. It gives way for a large amount of character development that, I think, makes up for the dragging feet of the plot, which is why I didn't take off any half or full stars.

Because, at the end of the day, the Shadow series is heavily character-driven and, therefore, I don't think its quality drops if there's more time spent on character development than plot. As the sequel, Conspiracy of Ravens is focused on Rhett's internal journey and sees him changing his pronouns and going by Rhett Hennessy in his internal monologue (later, Rhett Hennessy Walker) within the first twenty pages. The rest of the book has him exploring his sexuality and ending up in a good ol' YA romantic... tangle. I would say square, but that's not exactly the shape it is by the end.

As for the romantic tangle, as far as I can tell, I'm pretty glad that it's proving to not be your run-of-the-mill YA lover's spat or fiasco. Sam and Winifred had a bit of a clash in Wake of Vultures, but they seem to get along just fine here. The pacing does run into a problem (and Rhett continues to run away from his problems like a fool) when Sam finds out that Rhett has been sleeping with Winifred right before Rhett goes off to on his solo mission to the railroad camp, and none of the three of them really talk things out when Rhett rejoins the group in the last fifty pages — and all of that isn't to mention that he rejoins the group with a third love interest. (At this point, I feel like I'm playing Mass Effect again and Liara and Kaidan are cornering me on the Normandy... and my answer to them is the same answer I would tell Rhett: Why can't everyone just be happy? I highly, however, doubt that a poly relationship is what Bowen's going to shoot for here. I'll just brace myself for someone's heart to get shattered into pieces, then.) So, yeah, pacing and plot suffer a bit, but that didn't detract from the whole novel's charm for me.

The narrative voice is still just as strong, southern, and... frankly, stupid. But it's why I love Rhett. He's a poor, dumb teenager with very little clues about how the world really works, and his answer to most things is just "shoot it before it kills me" except most problems he has are, wildly enough, not the kind you can shoot. Or that would be fixed by shooting instead of creating ten other problems. And it's great! Bowen has made Rhett to be rather unsympathetic, and most of his ridiculously poor decisions are made when he's alone. His whole "destiny as the Shadow" thing helps separate him from the group, and then he puts his incredibly low wisdom into play. And yet, I still want him to win. I don't ever want him to lose, I don't ever want to see him die, and I don't even wish heartbreak on him. I read through these pages knowing that Bowen consistently gives Rhett his comeuppance (for example, he's pissed when Mr. Mueller treats him like he's a servant to Sam because Sam's a white man, but immediately, Winifred counters back with the fact that Mr. Mueller didn't even acknowledge her because she falls lower on the societal hierarchy of who white men will pay attention and listen to), so I trust that whenever Rhett does or says something foolhardy that a lesson is going to come and kick him in the butt.

That trust leaves me wide open to be appreciative of Rhett's heroism. He's the underdog, a unique, snarky, hot-headed, determined as all hell protagonist. He's the Shadow because nobody else in his group has his fire. Dan and Winifred are wise beyond their years, Sam is loyal and good-hearted, and Earl's feisty but he's no fighter. Rhett has something to learn from all of his friends, but he's the brave spirit that holds them together; he's been through a lot of crap in life, and he keeps getting up over and over again. So, even when he's acting like a jerk to people who just want to help him, he's still the one to cheer for because he's the hero that the LGBTQ+ community needs.

YA desperately needs more characters like him and characters like his supporting cast. They're majorly flawed in a human way, made up of good and bad, not black and white, and they're diverse and real. The ragtag group of misfit friends who accompany Rhett on his mission in this book? Sam, the gay white man with trauma from previous Ranger battles; Dan and Winifred, Native Americans who, at one point in the book, are both physically disabled in some way and Winifred is pretty much all but stated as either bi or pan; and Earl, an Irishman... I don't have much to say for Earl because his core traits were "makes jokes about drinking" or "trades friendly bro punches with Rhett like boys do". But, I mean, look at that diversity. That's what YA needs to have more of in its "ragtag group" novels. It's not a ragtag group if most of them are white. Or straight. Or cis.

Rhett's company has come from all walks of life, all races and backgrounds and sexualities, so that they all have something different to bring to the table. Even better, what they are (gay, Native American, disabled, Irish) isn't just their defining trait. It's a part of them as every person has something important to their identity, but they're real beyond their labels. That's what writing inclusively means. Authors shouldn't stress over making sure they hit the quota of "one POC" or "one gay character" or what have you in order to be writing inclusively (not to mention that that would just be a sad composition of a cast). Writing a gay man or a disabled Native American requires a different amount and kind of research than writing a white man or writing what you know would involve, but it is worth it.

When an author says they're afraid of offending their audience or that they don't want to write outside of what they know, the message that comes through to that same audience is "the effort isn't worth it — what if someone gets mad at me for 'doing it wrong', what if I get backlash, what if...?" Specifically white authors have a different starting point in the writing world than, say, a gay, black woman. Or a disabled, Native American man. Or any combination of race, gender, and sexuality that isn't white, cis, and straight. Lila Bowen is doing what more authors should be doing. She's using her time and effort to put in research and dedication and love into telling Rhett's story. To be clear, she's not telling a trans man's story because that's where we cross into the "which stories are okay for others to tell and which can only be told by the people who have that exact experience" area, and that would take a whole other essay.

But Bowen isn't doing that — she's just telling Rhett's story, and Rhett happens to be a biracial, bisexual trans man. She's using her platform to say, hey, characters like this can exist and writing as an example so that others can look at her work and think, "Oh, maybe I can do that, too." And you can. We all can because those kind of diverse voices deserve to be included in YA — not as side characters or as token representation, but as the starring role.

Buddy read with Kirsten, as with Wake of Vultures.