A trickster god dies, leaving his two sons to squabble with each other and, in that process, identify. At once immersive, magical, and memorable, Gaiman took me through the problems and conflicts of his characters with a potpourri of gravitas, humour, and smartness that only he can conjure with such ease.

Despite the lack of profundity that he's known for amid the scribbled sorcery, I got a lukewarm feel at the end, an all's well that ends well moment that’s an underappreciated and recently overlooked ethic of good-ol’ fantasy.

Paranormal literature contains both entry-level texts and advanced reading.

George P. Hansen’s The Trickster and the Paranormal firmly occupies the latter category; it is best digested a paragraph at a time. Anyone taking the plunge is rewarded with an erudite argument for understanding the paranormal, one yielding ever-increasing dividends the more it is applied: everything supernatural, from the phenomenon itself to those who study it, is subject to the influence of a subversive Jungian archetype known as The Trickster.

This is not an entity but rather a set of pervasive characteristics manifesting independently: transgressive, self-negating, liminal, playful, and, dare it be said, dangerous. Hansen’s speculation makes a little more sense of the insensible, including why irrefutable evidence of the paranormal yet eludes the scientific establishment.

I’m sneakily recommending a trilogy here, of which this is the first book. By turns funny, gritty, dark, difficult, and magical, this book by Eden Robinson, who is a member of the Haisla and Heiltsuk First Nations from the Pacific Northwest, is another coming-of-age novel that dives into the gritty realism of life on a reservation, as well as the deep, magical roots of Haisla mythology. 

I have never come across a writing style quite like this. The author has a truly unique voice that some may detest at the first sentence, but I adored it. The prose in this book is a wild ride, but I was along for it.

I loved the monstrous fae male character. He appeared cruel on the outside but was just broken and lonely on the inside and wanted someone to love him. All my favorite things in a male love interest.

Trickster Drift is Book Two in the Trickster trilogy. (Side Note: I loved the entire trilogy, but Book Two is my favourite.) Trickster Drift is an edgy blend of the supernatural, Indigenous lore, and substance abuse. The characters, particularly Jared’s mother Maggie (who is literally a witch) are memorable, and the dialogue is smart and funny. I have to be careful of spoilers, so I’ll just say that Jared’s conversations in his aunt’s Vancouver apartment with a certain individual wearing a bathrobe are not to be missed. Robinson juggles a number of characters (something I have to contend with in my hockey books), and she does it very well.   

I was instantly drawn into an alternate, magical feudal Japan where trickster foxes, dragons, witches, boar-headed guardians of the forest, and okami-wolves live secretly alongside the usual human lords and warriors because of the central love triangle.

Rin is cursed into speechlessness and sent to sabotage the human lord, Hikaru’s, treaty with another powerful family, but instead falls in love. She is helped by Shin, Rin's Okami friend, who secretly loves her. Hijinks ensue, helped along by magic. This had a very manga/anime vibe but was the least “traditional” regarding the fox magic.

Kevin Crossley-Holland published excerpts from his Norse Myths as a book for children. But as a child’s first introduction to the tales, it might be too poetic. I’d recommend, instead, Norse Mythology for Kids by Mathias Nordvig.

Nordvig retells the myths as your wise uncle might—if he happened to be Loki, the trickster god. For Nordvig not only blends different versions of a tale, but he also adds bits he thinks our original sources shouldn’t have left out.

Into that “mist world” at time’s beginning, for instance, Nordvig inserts a loon who helps the goddess Jord build the Earth. It’s a tale I’m familiar with from Native American mythology, but as Nordvig asserts, the Norse stories “are still alive.” And to keep them that way, we need to make them our own.

I loved God and the Gumiho because from start to finish, it was such a unique read with a fresh, unique voice! I was immediately drawn into the complex world based from Korean mythology, the characters had a lovely slow burn romance and it was a joy to watch them grow throughout the book. The ending was unexpected, but it just makes me all the more eager to read Book 2, which is currently on my TBR.

This is less a romance novel and more a high fantasy novel with romantic elements, but the romance subplot is exceedingly strong.

(I can highly recommend a mental fan-casting of either Arhys or Ilvin as Pedro Pascal, because he’d absolutely knock one of those roles out of the park if this was ever made into a miniseries).

Ista is over 40, a queen, a new grandmother, a recovered madwoman, and…wait for it…a living saint. Seeking to get away from the suffocating (yet loving) arms of her family, she goes on a pilgrimage (Road Trip!) with a group of younger people and ends up getting into multiple adventures and a more than near miss with outright war. It’s an absolute romp and one of my all-time favorites.

In a world saturated with Greek Mythological Retellings, The Witch’s Heart is a breath of fresh (cold) air from Valhalla.

Angrboda—a woman who made a recent appearance in the God of War PS4 games—blazes across this book as the mother of monsters! Odin's wrath leaves her powerless, and her only escape route? Off to a remote forest she dashes. Enter Loki, that sly trickster, stumbling upon her and—bam!—love sparks, birthing three whelps, each harbouring their own cryptic fate.

It's a Norse mythology remix with a modern twist and a brand-new leading lady—epic, heartbreaking, and full of oomph! And if every time you see Loki, you see Tom Hiddleston's mischievous grin, you aren’t alone.