My husband picked up a book from the library, Amber Dawn’s Sub Rosa, and on the way home I read the back out of curiosity. The title, given what I know of the phrase, intrigued me, and the synopsis even more so. I mean, who doesn’t want to read about magical prostitutes?

Little is the newest girl to become a Glory on Sub Rosa, a street that doesn’t exist, full of houses and businesses that cater to live ones (us normie city folks) who need a respite and an experience full of joy to relieve the humdrum life they lead. It’s a novel that explores a lot of interesting topics from love to the importance of memory, and how people experience life and sex. It was riveting, and though there were a lot of racy scenes, none of them felt gratuitous, which is definitely rare. They were all an important part of the plot, and were written with tact and finesse, leaving your experience of them much like what I would expect from a Sub Rosa Glory herself.

The part that stuck most in my mind, though, was the theme of names through the novel. This was the second novel that I’ve read, in a row, where we do not know the protagonist’s given name until nearly the end of the story. Names and naming things plays a huge role in both Alif the Unseen and Sub Rosa and it got me thinking about my own reticence around names. I find myself avoiding using people’s names almost always, unless there is no other way to get their attention in a crowd or something similar, and I wonder why that is. Something to ponder; thanks for the push, Dawn!

Anyway, I highly recommend picking this up to read. It’s a beautiful and glorious word romp through some difficult topics and leaves you different at the end, just like any good trip to Sub Rosa.