Book Review: House Of Frank

Sometimes a book really can feel like being wrapped in a comfy knit sweater, curled up by a fire, while rain taps against the window. House of Frank is that for me. I read this book right when it launched, and a second time since then. I’d say it was even more impactful than my first readthrough, so I’ve adjusted my star rating at the end with that in mind.

What’s it about?

Saika (a witch with no powers) sets out to fulfill her sister’s final wish: that she be laid to rest in the arboretum at Ash Gardens. There, she meets the owner, Frank, and the team of folks who live on site caring for the home and surrounding property. Frank offers Saika a position as one of the home’s caretakers until she feels ready to take her sister to the arboretum, and she accepts as a means of delaying that final step. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that while yes, she’s a witch, she doesn’t actually have the powers necessary to help care for the home. While hiding her lack of ability, Saiki connects with the other residents, and what unfolds from there is a beautiful story of grief, love, and ultimately, healing.

What I Loved

While the plot is lovely and layered, it’s the characters I found most inspiring with this story. Saika was a wonderful main character, and the supporting cast—from the grouchy elf to the half witch (and everyone else, too)—really allowed the world to come to life. Frank was complex, despite is seemingly straightforward initial impression. He’s warm and empathetic, but I love that Kay Sinclaire didn’t leave his characterization at that. She gave him a deeply moving backstory and underlying goals, and although the book is centered around Saika, we feel the movement of his own story alongside hers. Each character was distinct and relatable in their own ways, even when we don’t get a lot of time with all of them.

The relationship between Saika and Oli spoke to me because it developed so organically. It wasn’t a flashy, spicy relationship at all, and that made it all the more resonant for me as someone on the ace spectrum. It felt real. Watching their connection grow throughout the book in such a way made their eventual proclamations of affection all the more satisfying. It felt earned.

What I Didn’t Love

There was some miscommunication stuff that’s just not my cup of tea, but it was never enough to take me out of the story.

I wouldn’t say I didn’t like the pacing, but I can see why others might at least struggle a bit with it, if they went in with different expectations. It’s a little on the slower side, but as someone who tends to write similarly-paced stories, I’m good with it. I’d rather take my time with the characters and really get to know them like Sinclaire did with her characters in this book. We got plenty of action for my taste, and the climax itself was quite intense, but if a reader came in with more of a commercial fantasy expectation, I can see how they might feel it was on the slower side. To them I say, slow down! Let yourself live with these characters. Enjoy the warmth of their home and the comfort of their camaraderie.

Bigger Picture Stuff

There was an underlying mystery with Frank (I alluded to this earlier) beneath the main storyline of Saika exploring her grief, and I enjoyed that bit of added tension as the primary storyline played out. They ended up being thematically connected (I won’t go into detail because I don’t want to spoil it), and the way it all comes together at the end—the choices they must all make—felt inevitable by the time they arrived. But not in a bad way! It was more of a bittersweet “of course this is how it is”. Like grief itself, this acceptance is both laden with loss and buoyed by fond memories and hope for the future.

The diversity here is notable, and I have no doubt it’s a reflection of the author’s own lived experiences to some degree. The world is queernormative, which is always refreshing, and each of the characters in this cast offers some point of connection and relatability to our world. It was beautiful how, despite their obvious differences, those never divided them in any way. In fact, while their differences were all clearly articulated, they only strengthened the group as a whole, as they had to rely on each other and what they each uniquely brought to the dynamic.

On a strictly personal note, I appreciated that there was a message around Saika’s lack of power that spoke of the inherent value of personhood, regardless of the ability to be productive in those expected ways. As a disabled person myself, it’s taken years to accept my limitations and believe that I’m worthy of love simply because I exist. For a witch like Saika, there are certain expectations attached. And she felt the very real fear that she might lose her place in their found family—not only her actual job there, but also her newly forming friendships—if they knew the truth of her powerlessness. To see that disproven was deeply satisfying representation for me as a disabled person.

Final Thoughts

If you’ve read this book, did you also sob at the end? Because I was a mess.

House of Frank is a heartwarming exploration of grief, and a beautiful demonstration of how our differences are exactly what make us valuable. It’s vulnerable and authentic in a way I wasn’t anticipating. I think I expected more of a fluffy story, and while it still delivered on those warm vibes, it was so much more than that. I highly recommend everyone read it.

I give this book 4.5/5 stars.

Happy reading!