Author: K. Ancrum
Publication date: March 26, 2024
Genre: YA contemporary/romance
My rating: 4.5/5 stars
Icarus is a forger and an art thief. Helios is a boy under house arrest…and the son of the man Icarus steals from. These two lonely souls on the cusp of adulthood, both struggling to resist their oppressive fathers, are brought together in a star-crossed friendship-turned-romance in this dazzling novel, loosely a contemporary retelling of its mythological namesake. The story also features Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome representation, which is very close to my heart, as well as various queer identities, found family, and so much more. Read on for my full thoughts (and a splash of literary analysis–when you have a mythology retelling, how could you not?).
The Plot
Perfect for fans of Adam Silvera and Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, this suspenseful queer YA romance from critically acclaimed author K. Ancrum reimagines the tale of Icarus as a star-crossed love story between a young art thief and the son of the man he’s been stealing from—think Portrait of a Thief for YA readers.
Icarus Gallagher is a thief. He steals priceless art and replaces it with his father’s impeccable forgeries. For years, one man—the wealthy Mr. Black—has been their target in revenge for his role in the death of Icarus’s mother. To keep their secret, Icarus adheres to his own strict rules to keep people, and feelings, at bay: Don’t let anyone close. Don’t let anyone touch you. And, above all, don’t get caught.
Until one night, he does. Not by Mr. Black but by his mysterious son, Helios, now living under house arrest in the Black mansion. Instead of turning Icarus in, Helios bargains for something even more dangerous—a friendship that breaks every single one of Icarus’s rules.
As reluctance and distrust become closeness and something more, they uncover the gilded cage that has trapped both their families for years. One Icarus is determined to escape. But his father’s thirst for revenge shows no sign of fading, and soon it may force Icarus to choose: the escape he’s dreamed of, or the boy he’s come to love. Reaching for both could be his greatest triumph—or it could be his downfall.
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Representation: Achillean MC with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Achillean intersex MC, Black SC
Trigger/content warnings: abusive parents (emotional and physical, depicted on-page), addiction, death of a parent (in the past)
Review
Where do I even begin? It may be pitched as a romance, but this book is far more than the relationship between its central couple (which unfolds quickly and intensely, but still maintains emotional plausibility, largely because of the trauma-informed connection the two share). Icarus is a story about softening your edges and learning to trust those around you. It has a lovely found family that develops between Icarus and some of his classmates as, for the first time in his life, he lets down his guard and allows others to really see him and care for him. It’s also a story about reckoning with past trauma–both ours and our parents’–facing demons from without and within, confronting the blurry edges between past and present, especially when trying to forge a new future. And it is a YA story that holds true to one of the most central features of YA novels: figuring out who you are and what kind of person you want to be.
The book also features a main character realizing he has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which is obviously exciting rep for me to read as a fellow EDS zebra (and makes this the second YA book coming out this year featuring EDS rep!). I will say, I didn’t love the way he was just given an armchair diagnosis and immediately accepted it; EDS diagnosis is more complicated than just having hypermobile joints and pain (though those are two major symptoms of it), and though the book does acknowledge that there are other connective tissue disorders, this character seems to disregard that possibility. It also felt like the symptoms were presented a bit too subtly at times–for example, this character says during one scene that he experiences lots of pain all the time, but outside of that scene, the pain rarely comes up. I suppose that could be a commentary on how we internalize and don’t always notice pain, but it still didn’t quite sit right with me as an authentic portrayal. That said, the use of EDS was an effective literary choice, as it physically mirrors the internal struggles the character also faces: physically, he is very strong, and he is flexible, but his wrists aren’t always stable and he feels constant pain; mentally, he withstands very challenging circumstances and contorts himself into whatever sort of person people need him to be, but he is also living with the constant hurt of his distant father and his need to not let anyone get too close.
That apt parallel isn’t the only impressive literary element here. On a purely prose-focused level, Ancrum’s writing pulses with an aching undercurrent of emotion, poetically mapping the internal life of this strange, perceptive teenager. And on an intertextual level, the book also plays with the myth of Icarus, both leaning into it and subverting it by turns. Here, we have a boy molded in his father’s image, growing too close to the “sun,” Helios–and yet the melting of his metaphorical wings (i.e., the dissolution of the persona learned from his father) looks more like freedom than a death knell. There are falls of all kinds, from falling in love to falling from heights. And there is also a sense that, in some ways, perhaps Icarus actually did learn to come back down, and his father’s quest for revenge is actually the more dangerous flight. There’s even a sense of self-awareness, as Icarus and Helios both acknowledge the grand irony of their names (which may be less coincidental than they initially think). Other Greek myths (and various academic phenomena–Boötes Void, anyone?) are called to mind through cleverly chosen chapter titles. And truly, the whole book is artfully crafted, seamlessly marrying plot-based tension (heists, escape attempts, family secrets, and so on) with the emotional complexity of its characters, even when that plot asks us to suspend our disbelief.
I don’t have much more to say, besides to reiterate that this is an artful, tender read: part retelling, part wholly unique, all worth reading. This was my first read by Ancrum, but it will certainly not be my last.
Thank you to Colored Pages Book Tours and Epic Reads for providing me with a copy of this book as part of my participation in this tour! All opinions are my own.
Metaphors and Miscellanea 