This book is set in Tel Aviv – Landsman is an Israeli author – and the different setting is just one of a range of aspects that sets this book apart. It is set in an alternate dystopian setting where magic-users around the world face a variety of measures designed to limit their freedom. In the US, they are forced to live in ghettos and while apparently Israeli society is more liberal, it doesn’t prevent many attacks on sorcerers, with most police turning a blind eye to such crimes. Reed is one of those fighting for equal rights for the magical community, putting himself at risk as he serves in a coffee bar. I found his edgy character, with his ability to read and diffuse people’s moods, appealing and sympathetic – even when he was being a bit of a prat, which is when you know the author has nailed her protagonist.

There is also a strong cast of supporting characters, notably his flatmate, Daphne, who is a seer. I like the gritty detail that people who can see into the future or become assailed with other people’s strong emotions are prone to depression and mental illness with a high suicide rate among them – it makes sense. I felt that Landsman had thought through carefully what would be the ongoing consequences for someone cursed with such a gift. In the middle of all this turbulence, Reed falls desperately, helplessly in love with another empath. His same-sex relationship with Lee, an American, grows steadily more intense throughout the book and described with passion and tenderness and while this isn’t principally a romance, this relationship plays a pivotal role in the narrative.

I burned through this book in just over two days, staying awake faaar too long to find out what happens next. I like Landsman’s layered characterisation and trick of writing a situation from the inside out – and would happily read anything else she has written. This is one of my favourite reads of the year so far and is highly recommended for anyone who likes reading about magical worlds with a difference. The ebook arc copy of The Heart of the Circle was provided by the publisher through NetGalley in return for an honest opinion of the book.
10/10

The Heart of the Circle is a new adult SF/magical realism novel set in modern Tel-Aviv by Keren Landsman. Originally published in 2018, this English translation was published 13 Aug 2019 by Angry Robot. It's 400 pages and available in paperback, audio, and ebook formats.

The central themes of isolation, acceptance, love, diversity, racism, and betrayal are all present and accounted for. The world building was more or less nonexistent, it's Tel Aviv, and it's quite believable. The magic system is very well done and also believable. Empaths, seers, and other mages/psychics are shunned and discriminated against openly. People fear them, they're literally made to stand in the back of the bus. Against this background, protagonist Reed (an empath) and his friends become politically active to push back against the prejudice and violence.

There's a great deal of angst, a lot of rough language, violence, and a fair bit of sex. It's a compelling read, though I can't put my finger on why it was so compelling for me. I was very interested in the psychosocial changes which accompanied the magic world-building. The fact that the psychic connections are strengthened by physical touch puts a whole new spin on handshakes and hugs, and the author explores that subtly but well. There was also a subplot involving Reed's ex who had moved on to another relationship with a woman. The exploration of the subtle but present bias against bi-sexual people, even (especially?) from people who identify as gay was refreshing to see.

The translation work is good, but not seamless. There are several places in the book where I noticed the prose was off, slightly mechanical or plodding. All in all though it was a very well written book and a good read. The mystery subplot wasn't the main attraction for me about this book, and I wouldn't really recommend it for mystery fans looking for something a little speculative/SF. This is a solid choice for NA/possibly mature YA (language, sex, violent content would make this iffy for YA). It could be a good choice for speculative fiction buddy read or book club selection.

Four stars. Looking forward to seeing more from this author. I've read and reviewed several books recently besides this one which were written by physicians, and they were all good. Maybe we need more ridiculously well trained academically inclined authors writing SF!

There is little as disappointing and annoying as loving the characters in a book you otherwise deeply dislike. Unfortunately, The Heart of the Circle was one of those books.

The whole plot centres around an allegory for oppression in a vaguely fantastical modern day. In this case, sorcerers (of which there are various kinds) are the ones oppressed. Why? It’s never really explained, we just have to go with it. Reed is a sorcerer who can feel and manipulate people’s emotions (a moodie), though again, how his powers actually work and the limits they have are never explained. Similarly, every other power (elementals, psychics, you name it). Sure, if they use their powers overly much, they end up depleted (and then seem to take their magic from normal people? Not clear), but they seem to be able to do pretty much anything up until that point.

But anyway, the story goes as so: The Sons of Simeon are terrorising the sorcerer community, targeting individuals and businesses who support the sorcerers and killing the sorcerers themselves. And the government is content to just sit back and watch. But, honestly, this is where the plot became a little fuzzy for me. The Sons of Simeon end up targetting Reed, though it isn’t entirely clear why. They want him in a particular place because then they could try kill someone but he would die getting in the way or something, and ultimately they just want sorcerers to rule the world. And I’m still so confused what killing Reed had to do with any of it. It was a plotline that needed more brainpower put into it than I was willing to give. (And don’t even get me started on how confused I was about what Reed actually did to stop all this.)

As a whole, the book seems a little loose. As I said, the limits of the magic system are never really delineated, so when the plot relies on that system, it becomes confusing. Also confusing is the number of plot points that are floating around, and left kind of unresolved. Some of them tie into the denouement, some don’t, and in all, that makes it seem not a very clean plot. Similarly, some character traits are suddenly introduced with no foreshadowing, and relationships make leaps forward within a couple of pages.

And despite all the action, particularly what comes at the end, the book still manages to feel as though it’s just plodding along. There was never any urgency to the writing and the plot. This was probably not helped by the characters going from moving hectically to a long periods of inaction, partly because this book seems to be trying to be a romance as well as a fantasy novel all at once.

But, all plot discussions besides, I was turned off this book very early on by the setting, and the biphobia and cissexism. Let’s take the setting first. I didn’t realise it was set in Israel before I started reading this (more fool me for not reading the blurb at all). I don’t know about you, but a fantasy allegory for oppression, set in Israel? It just feels uncomfortable and turning a deliberate blind eye to actual real life events there. With the biphobia and cissexism, this turned up within the first few chapters. Reed meets an ex-boyfriend and makes comments along the lines of “he’d never expressed interest in the opposite sex” and “people change […] maybe there’s hope for us yet finding out we were always attracted to women”. And later, the ex “will be jealous, but it’ll be too late because he switched teams”. And if that biphobia wasn’t bad enough, how it would be a shock, seeing his girlfriend naked and realising “she was missing something”.

So, in the end, it was a shame I liked the characters, almost, because the rest of this book was a big ol’ disappointment.

I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.

I closed this book just a few seconds ago as I type this, and my head is pounding about as hard as my heart is.

Heart of the Circle is a book I’ve been looking forward to for a long time – for at least a year. It was originally published in Israel, and was then translated into English for publication in the West, via Angry Robot, a publisher I have a love/hate relationship with – they find and publish extraordinary books, but their copy-editing often leaves something to be desired.

Well, I hope the final version of this book is a bit more polished than the ARC I received – which had multiple typos and formatting errors – but the book itself? Definitely extraordinary.

HotC is set in a world superficially very similar to our own; it’s a 21st century with mobile phones and cars and barristas and bad tv shows. But this world has sorcerers – people who can manipulate one of the classical elements, see the future, or sense and manipulate the emotions of others. What made my worldbuilding!addict self very happy was the multiple references to sorcerers having existed throughout this world’s history; we hear a bit about sorcerers in the Medieval period, and the effects of colonialist sorcery in Africa, and these things and more have contributed to the myths and stigmas modern sorcerers have to deal with. The attitude towards sorcerers is also not universal; Lee, the love interest of the story, has spent most of his life in the Confederacy – what we know as the USA – where the sorcerer community and culture is very different from what it is in Israel, where our story takes place. Landsman didn’t just slap some magic onto a carbon-copy of our world and call it a day; a lot of thought has gone into creating the world of HotC, and I appreciated all of it. More on that in a bit!

Plot-wise, the blurb is pretty accurate, but drastically undersells the impact and complexity of what’s going on here. In HotC’s Israel, sorcerers are segregated on buses and in schools (I don’t think sorcerers go to schools just for them, but there’s a mention of sorcerer students having to sit in the ‘white space’ during exams, same as the white squares they stand in on the buses), undergo micro-aggressions on a regular basis and full-on hate crimes far too often, and (judging from the slogans chanted during some of the demonstrations) can’t even vote. Reed, our main character, is an empath – what’s known as a ‘moodie’ – working in a cafe, attending rallies when he can and working as a youth counsellor for young sorcerers when he’s off the clock. All of his close friends are sorcerers of one kind or another, and all of them are involved in the political movement for sorcerer rights – something that’s becoming more and more dangerous as the hate group Sons of Simeon becomes progressively more violent. People are dying at the rallies and demonstrations, and the police seem indifferent. It’s a pretty terrible time to be a sorcerer.

And then Reed starts falling for Lee, his ex’s ex, kickstarting a chain of events that leads the Sons of Simeon to paint a bull’s-eye on his back.

Social justice is obviously one of the strongest themes of the book, but not only are there no info-dumping monologues where the writer lectures the reader (Landsman is far too good a writer to need info-dumps of any kind), we’re also presented with a surprisingly wide spectrum of opinions and political stances among the cast. In reality, social justice of any kind is messy and complicated, and even people on the same side often don’t agree on the goals of the movement, never mind the means of reaching those goals. The characters of HotC are realistically diverse in their approaches, opinions, and definitions of success, from the we-must-accept-even-those-who-hurt-us Aurora, to Lee, who calls himself a pacifist, but comes from a community where it’s understood and accepted that anyone who comes after a sorcerer is going home in a body-bag. And absolutely all of them are sometimes too tired or angry or depressed to be social justice warriors all the time – they need time off, to have fun or let off steam or just hide under the blankets for a few hours. It made them all feel incredibly real and human: these aren’t Platonic ideals or paragons of virtue – they’re completely normal people, with terrible taste in music, coffee addictions, and rules about when your roommates can bring their boyfriends over.

I’m not usually a fan of first-person narration, but I think it was the right way to go here, especially with Reed’s sorcery – I’m not sure it could have been conveyed as well in third-person. Empaths regularly deal with intense mood-swings as they pick up on the emotions of those around them, and as the tension mounts towards the second half of the book, being inside Reed’s head really helps you feel the terrifying enormity of the situation he’s in. I spent weeks getting through the first third of the book, picking it up and putting it down again – then read the rest in a little under two days. I couldn’t put it down once things picked up; Landsman’s slightly choppy, bare-bones writing (the complete opposite of the kind of purple prose that generally makes me swoon) was perfect for the boulder-crashing-down-a-hill pacing, the sense of things moving faster and faster, and the walls of a trap closing in.

And I can’t talk a whole lot about what was moving fast, or what the trap is, because that’s really something you need to discover for yourself as you read. But I’m practically bouncing with delight at how cool Landsman’s world is, and I just have to talk about it some more. Especially since so much of it is intimately tied to the plot.

For example: I have never seen empathy-as-superpower like this before. I’m actually in the middle of reading The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen, in which empathy might be a supersensory power, but it’s not exactly a useful one, and it was extra-interesting to be reading these two books side by side – because in HotC, empaths are unquestionably terrifying and very, very badass. Being able to fling fire around might be more cinematic, but when it comes to sorcerer battles, empaths are the ones who make or break a victory, particularly when they’re paired with seers – known as ‘damuses’ in the modern vernacular – who can not only see all the possible timelines, but decide which one they’re in. At one point, Reed describes a training battle from his time in the IDF (in HotC, as in our world, it’s mandatory for everyone to serve a set period in Israel’s military), in which he and his best friend, Daphne, a seer, took on 50 elementalists – and the elementalists still complained that they were outnumbered. Daphne’s job is to pick the timelines in which bullets (or fireballs) don’t hit her or Reed – leaving Reed free to take out the enemy. Seers safeguard, empaths wipe the floor with their opponents, basically. At least once they’ve had a little training.

Empaths are also able to transfer emotions between people, something I don’t think I’ve seen before, and which intrigues me – if emotions are the result of various chemicals and hormones, how can you transfer depression into a brain that’s not depressed? Being able to trigger someone’s brain into creating depression, sure, I can see that, but…well, it’s magic, even if no one quite calls it that. I’m interested, but I don’t need a scientific breakdown of how it works.

This is all really impressive, but about a third of the way through the book there is An Incident in a night-club where we see just what kind of precision a trained empath is capable of, and it is simultaneously jaw-droppingly incredible and, when you stop to think about it, properly terrifying.

Empaths have a particular role in the sorcerer-justice movement – they walk on the edges of the marches ‘listening’ for anyone who means them harm – and they have a unique place in the creation of media, being able to imbue art (including the written word) with emotions that viewers or readers can then feel for themselves. Reed works as a ‘moodifier’ for a bit during the book, and I really would have loved to see more and know more about it – is this how all art all over the world, and throughout history, works??? Are artists not expected to elicit emotions with their art, but just…have those emotions imbued in it after the fact??? If the imbued emotions wear off eventually, how does that work when you’re moodifying a manuscript – will all the printed copies of the book have the emotions in them? I HAVE SO MANY EXCITED QUESTIONS!

Ahem.

But although Reed’s empathy plays an enormous role – it’s an intrinsic part of who he is, something that’s made extra clear when another character points out how he (and other empaths) are useless at reading body language because they’ve never had to learn it – especially in his relationship with fellow empath Lee (and by the way, the way they use their empathy to melt into each other psychically is both beautifully written and far more intimate than sex), the Big Dramatic Plot is much more…dictated? If dictated is the right word? – by the seers, and how their powers work. The silent, invisible battle between rival damuses – all of whom are trying to manifest conflicting timelines where their side comes out on top – is both intricate and chilling. Questions of inevitability, fate and destiny come up hard against free will and personal choice – none of which have easy answers, all of which have costs attached to them. One of the scariest conflicts revolves around Reed making the future he’s been fighting for by being himself – Daphne and the other seers can only help so much, before their interference alters the decisions he’ll make, and therefore the timeline that will be created. It reminded me of Rachel Aaron’s Heartstriker series, where the main character Julius is also a linchpin of a prophet’s plans…but can’t be told anything about those plans without unmaking them. Although I love the Heartstriker series dearly, it did feel a lot less like a tease here, and much more like an inevitable, intrinsic aspect of being surrounded by seers.

Ultimately I think that’s what makes Heart of the Circle really special – how real it all felt. From the slang and subtle hand-signals sorcerers use amongst themselves, to how believable the character relationships and dynamics were, to all the ways great and subtle Landsman’s world differs from ours, this felt like a book I could step through like a doorway and find a real place waiting on the other side. Even the cinematic, X-Men-worthy showdown at the book’s climax didn’t feel unbelievable – on the contrary, I felt like I should be ducking the fireballs and getting under cover! So it is with great delight that I can say that Heart of the Circle lived up to my hopes for it, and I very much hope everyone snags a copy come publication day.

The Heart of the Circle introduces a richly developed world filled with deeply personal magic that emanates throughout the pages. It goes beyond a brilliantly written fantasy novel to include a powerful love story, an inside look at human emotion, and a conversation on fighting back against mindless oppressors.

To start, Landsman focuses on a type of magic that goes beyond parlor tricks to get at the heart of each sorcerer. Our protagonist, Reed, is constantly flooded with emotions from those around him. We get to see the power of human emotion at a physical level through his eyes. Situations in the book go beyond storytelling, manifesting in a very raw way. It’s exhilarating, heartbreaking, and emotional to experience as a reader. We also experience the tragedy of knowing you’re going to die and choosing to live anyway. It’s an often visited story in fantasy novels that’s used expertly in the narrative. By the end of the book, I felt drained by my investment in these characters lives, in the best way possible.

The central love story is a beautiful creation. We see two men with the ability to feel things deeper than can be imagined, each suffering from a past that has made it difficult to love another person. They slowly grow closer to each other until their relationship finally blooms into something magnificent. The emotional connection they’re able to share thanks to their abilities makes their love that much more powerful. It’s a very emotional experience to see these two people choose each other when they know things don’t look bright in the future.

Above all, we see the passion of a group of people at the center of deep prejudices who refuse to back down from demanding the freedom they deserve. Horrible things happen throughout, deaths are prophesied, and still they band together to march in the face of hate. It’s a fight song for our current time, showing how powerful people can be when they band together to refuse oppression.

Overall, The Heart of the Circle is a wonderful book that stuck with me long after reading. It’s beautifully done in every way and I thank the author for writing such a compelling and heartfelt story.

1.5 stars. So, the thing is, I am glad that this book exists. I believe there is a place for Israeli urban fantasy, by an Israeli author. I can see how the premise of this book would, for chunks of its "home" audience, resonate, and how many of its characters would feel real.

Unfortunately, I also found it extremely boring, almost entirely lacking in narrative tension, almost entirely lacking a coherent fantasy magic system, and full of perplexing and underdeveloped character relationships. Most people who real a lot of fantasy will not like this book. Most people who read a lot of romance will not like this book.

The main POV character, Reed, is a sort of empath. His magic ability is basically to move feelings around, remove them, reapply them. It's kind of interesting but becomes soooo repetitive as he is the constant focus. His name is "Reed" because of his personal qualities, get it? Other characters, such as River and Blaze, have powers to do with water and fire, respectively. (River/water, Blaze/fire, get it? The naming conventions here are like something out of a children's book... and these people aren't even named at birth for their powers, which don't manifest until adolescence... Yeah, makes no sense.) I admire the fact that Reed's sexuality -- he is gay -- is not an issue in this book, but I'm not sure how I feel about the way that prejudices in this book were shifted from real-life concerns about gender, race, and sexuality onto hatred of "magical" people. It oversimplifies things a bit too much, isn't ever really explained, and isn't done with any subtlety.

Reed's family, friends, associates, ex-lover, and new love interest are innumerable. There are too many characters in this book, far too many for the author to develop well. I didn't gel with how they talked to each other. The romance started out with a nice slow build, and then came on suddenly. It was better and more realistic than any instalove would have been, yet when they finally got together it was like whiplash. The family and friend relationships worked a little better for me, such as Reed's brother (non-magical) and roommate (can see possible futures and other versions of the present).

I'm picking this book apart because I did not like it, but also because I really wanted it to be better. As I said, I am glad it exists. I don't know if its wholly the book or partly the translation, but for a global audience with a lot of books to choose from, this book won't be a great choice.

What a strangely compelling book this was. And when I say compelling I don't just mean your standard 'one more chapter whoops bedtime was three hours ago' kind of compelling. This book was like quicksand. When I first sent it to my kind I opened it just to check that it had worked, and the next thing I knew I was four chapters deep. I'd plan to read a chapter or two with lunch and lose an afternoon. I was late back from my lunch-break at work yesterday and, yes, there were missed bedtimes.

Pretty impressive, considering I don't even know if I liked it that much. Hell, I honestly can't even pinpoint why I found it as compelling as I did. Take the prose, for example. It might be a result of the translation (this book was first published in Hebrew), but I found it to be on the clunky side. And yet there was an open quality to it, a complete lack of pretense, that made reading the sentences almost effortless. It literally felt like the story was just flowing into me.

The plot, I should have loved. Not because it's exiting or twisty, but because it's really not the focus. Plots happening in the background while characters angst at each other is basically my favourite flavour of book, but even if the plot is in the background it should still make sense. I mean the plot here isn't too complicated; in a world where sorcerers are both common and discriminated against a far-right group wants to kill all the non-sorcerers and take control. Our protagonist, an empath named Reed, and his friends want to stop them. The issue I had is that too often B didn't seem to follow logically from A. It would be like if a car crashed into a tree, and the driver said 'great, now I have to buy more milk!' and the other passengers are like, 'obviously.' There were too many, 'wait, what?' moments from me.

I did really like the worldbuilding. The different kind of sorcerers and how they were introduced. I liked how Reed's empathetic abilities were explored, although I was a little uncomfortable with how they tied into mental health and depression. Honestly though this is not an area I have enough experience in to know if the books portrayal of that was problematic, though the fatalistic way everyone just seemed to accept that all empaths would struggle with depression and suicide seemed wrong to me.

My favourite part of this book was the seers. I liked that they were common, because normally a seer character is rare and OP in any universe. Here they're a dime a dozen, and they're all competing to push things there own way. Little touches like how two seers can become quick friends by jointly "seeing" all the future conversations they might have was one cool example of the unique approach the book takes to them. Although I have to wonder why things are so bad for sorcerers around the world if there are so many seers on their side?

I guess every aspect of this book I could describe as 'pretty good, but...' And yet somehow all of these flawed parts made up a whole that I couldn't read fast enough. Strangely compelling really is the best way I can describe The Heart of the Circle. A big thanks to netgalley for letting me read it.

While I don't feel like I fully understand the plot and its resolution, the novel had a fresh premise and a new take on popular urban fantasy tropes. It took a while to drum up my interest, but it managed to hold it from there to the end.

The good: The mystery was developed in such a way that I was SURE I had figured out who the traitors were, but I was wrong, and I always appreciate that in a story. I couldn't anticipate how things would end, and that kept the pages turning.

The bad: While the main character is very likable, his love interest is whiny and needy and drug-addled and the kind of person you tell your friend to dump, yet their relationship becomes the sole focus of the book after its inception. You just want to holler "GEEZ REED, dump him and get on with being a super hero!"

The ugly: I never quite understood 1) what they were marching for in the rallies that are central to the plot, 2) the stance/motivation of the bad guys in the book, the Sons of Simeon (they are anti-sorcerer but they are also all sorcerers? Are they self-loathing? What's the deal?), and 3) how the traitor(s) in the end managed to avoid detection, despite there being several people who could foretell the future.

The final verdict: I'll be keeping my eye on the author's future English-language releases, but I won't be revisiting this book.

Although I felt that this novel got off to a slow and rocky start, I ended up enjoying it. In a world where a large part of the population have powers, political extremists are trying to take away their rights. Some individuals have elemental powers--like the characters in Avatar: the Last Airbender, to make a pop culture connection--while others can see possible futures or sense and alter emotions. A group of friends with various powers finds itself trying to prevent multiple deaths of those in the group while also mentoring young people with powers, navigating their own complex personal lives, and dealing with state and police minders. As the group works to protect its own from targeted attacks, the pace and intensity of the novel picks up, and races to a satisfying end. While it's set in Tel Aviv, I didn't get much of a sense of the city, and there are some grammar and syntax errors that result in some confusing passages.