Cozy Dreams Deferred: A Review of Homegrown Magic by Pacton & Podos
I’ve always had a bit of a tumultuous relationship with cozy fantasy. It’s like a fond crush that never quite blossoms into love—there’s yearning mixed with a slight disappointment, much like my experiences with this genre. When I first picked up Homegrown Magic by Pacton & Podos, I was hopeful. The premise sounded enchanting: two strong protagonists, an idyllic rural setting, and the promise of cozy magic. Yet, as I dove into the pages, my initial excitement was met with a familiar wave of apathy.
The story begins with Yael, who’s bravely breaking away from an emotionally abusive family, and Margot, fervently working to create a potion to save her village. Right out of the gate, I appreciated the representation of Yael as a non-binary character—an important touch that added depth. And stake-wise, it seemed like we were on the brink of a riveting journey. But then, things took a turn that had me shaking my head in disappointment.
As I read on, it became painfully clear that Margot’s issues were largely self-inflicted. Her refusal to communicate—especially with supportive characters like Yael—felt contrived and frustrating. It was made all the worse when I realized that despite the high stakes surrounding the villagers’ homes, Margot’s insistence on handling things alone just turned her into a source of irritation. Instead of being a relatable character, her blatant neglect towards her community’s plight felt selfish, curtailing any sympathy I could muster.
There was a part of me that really wanted to root for her, especially as a fellow advocate for intentional living communities. Yet, the citizens of Bloomfield were merely shadowy figures, lacking the vibrancy necessary to evoke genuine care. At one point, I found myself chuckling at a scene that listed many names without context; it was character soup with no flavor.
Despite my frustrations with Margot, I had hopes that she would redeem herself—perhaps finally own up to her magical blunders. Yet, irony struck hard as she turned out not to be responsible for a key plot point regarding her parents’ magical coma. Would it not have been more relatable and enriching for readers if her mistakes were truly her own?
The tension in the story, built on Margot’s communication failures, quickly became stale. The slow-burn aspect of her relationship with Yael promised to be compelling, yet time skips left little room for real development, making their romance feel flat and unengaging.
I do give credit where credit is due: Pacton & Podos’ nuanced take on the narrative’s class dynamics provided some interesting commentary. Yet, it was not enough to outweigh the frustrations I felt toward the characters. The world-building, while filled with potential, often fell back on traditional LitRPG tropes, lacking the rich sensory detail that makes cozy genres so engaging. The book’s portrayal of rural life touched on some beautiful elements, but I longed for a deeper, more thoughtful exploration of place and character.
In the end, Homegrown Magic didn’t quite charm its way into my heart. The intricacies of the characters and communities left much to be desired, and while there were glimmers of potential, they often floundered under the weight of poor choices and narrative conveniences.
If you’re drawn to light-hearted fantasies that don’t take themselves too seriously, you might find some enjoyment here. For those of us seeking the magic of human connection and heartfelt development, though, this cozy offering may leave you yearning for more.
In conclusion, I give Homegrown Magic two stars. Thank you to NetGalley and Del Rey for the ARC—my thoughts and critiques are entirely my own. I hope my reflections help guide you towards your next read, whether that be here or somewhere else. Happy reading!
