Reading Log: Cozy vs Claustrophobic Fantasy
Reviewing Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune and Piranesi by Susanna Clarke
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Alright, admin stuff out of the way—let’s get back to the books.
Today, I’m brushing the surface of discussing different sub-genres of fantasy, like cozy fantasy! There are already plenty of recommendations floating around out there for cozy fantasy—and many that I’m eager to pass along—but I feel like I should not discuss them in depth until I’ve actually read them myself. So instead, here’s a little sneak peek of cozy fantasy books that are high on my TBR list:
Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree
The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna
Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne
Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett
The Tea Dragon Society by Kay O’Neill
Much like healing fiction (both sub-genres have a bit of overlap), cozy fantasy is a relatively new genre that’s having a bit of a hot moment right now. If you’re a video game person, think Stardew Valley, Wanderstop, or Spiritfarer. In terms of TV, Hilda, Bee and Puppycat, and Little Witch Academia all fit the vibe.
Cozy fantasy does not always follow a strict formula, but more often than not, it centres on a character—often a former fighter—who has set down a history of violence in favour of a softer, more grounded life. Think tea shops, baking, books, gardens—things that offer comfort, community, and a sense of peaceful purpose. And much like healing fiction, cozy fantasy often scatters tiny aphorisms throughout the text. Simple, gentle words that linger long after you read them, quietly shifting how you see the world and how you move through your own life.
The two books I chose for this Reading Log offer a striking contrast in the contemporary fantasy world. Under the Whispering Door leans firmly into the realm of cozy fantasy, while Piranesi exists on the opposite end of the spectrum—something closer to magical realism, brushing up against mythos. Piranesi isn’t exactly a claustrophobic fantasy, as I just named that genre myself, but I wanted to find a word that contrasted the cozy style of Under the Whispering Door. One book wraps you in warmth and emotional softness; the other leaves you disoriented in a labyrinth of wonder and isolation. They’re both quiet, introspective reads, but they approach that quiet in wildly different and fantastical ways.
Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune
“The first time you share tea, you are a stranger. The second time you share tea, you are an honored guest. The third time you share tea, you become family.”
― T.J. Klune, Under the Whispering Door
summary: Under the Whispering Door is a story about what happens after you die—but it is more interested in grief, connection, and second chances than in the afterlife itself. Wallace is a cold, career-obsessed man who finds out he’s dead at his own funeral. A reaper comes to collect him and brings him to Charon’s Crossing, a strange little tea shop that sits between life and whatever comes after. The shop is run by Hugo, a ferryman who helps the dead come to terms with their lives so they can move on. Wallace, unsurprisingly, is not ready. But when he’s given one week in this new purgatory before he has to cross over, he starts trying to live for the first time.
It’s funny, a little weird, and quietly moving. It’s about death, yes, but more than that, it’s about learning how to be human.
“It’s never enough, is it? Time. We always think we have so much of it, but when it really counts, we don’t have enough at all.”
― T.J. Klune, Under the Whispering Door
I listened to this book as an audiobook, which was quite sweet—I feel like I got a real sense of the characters that way. That said, when I first finished it, I did not love it. There were plenty of moments I enjoyed, but I picked it up mainly as a palate cleanser: something simple, easy, and a little sweet.
“Everyone loses their way at some point, and it’s not just because of their mistakes or the decisions they make. It’s because they’re horribly, wonderfully human. And the one thing I’ve learned about being human is that we can’t do this alone. When we’re lost, we need help to try to find our way again.”
― T.J. Klune, Under the Whispering Door
I love reading about death, sites of crossing, and anything related to the afterlife—not in a morbid way, I just find them fascinating (maybe a little bit in a morbid way). And Under the Whispering Door definitely scratches that itch while keeping it somewhat light-hearted. What’s interesting about T.J. Klune’s work is that while this book feels very YA in tone, it technically is not considered YA. I’ve read another of his books that also falls under the cozy fantasy umbrella, and both have this distinct YA voice—earnest, candid, emotionally clear—but because the protagonists aren’t teens, they’re marketed as adult fantasy/fiction. It’s another interesting case study in how publishing chooses to categorize and sell stories.
It is hard to describe, because I don’t think Klune’s voice is juvenile, exactly (maybe a little bit, don’t get mad at me), but there is a certain softness and simplicity in his writing that I associate with younger readers. Even though the main character is jaded, rude, and stubborn, the book is playful, which is something I associate with making deeper issues more palatable for broader audiences. I know there are many YA books that tackle grim and complex content—like The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner, or Legend to name a few—but Klune’s writing feels YA to me in a different way. It is not just about what he is writing, but how: there is a whimsical cadence to his prose, a buoyant tone and cheerful simplicity that feels jolly, even when the themes lean heavier. It has the softness and clarity often used to speak to younger and broader audiences, regardless of the age of the characters or the complexity of the ideas being explored.
This was not my favourite book—mostly because I found the protagonist, Wallace, to be almost intolerable, even if that was the point. Still, I would recommend this one over Klune’s other book, The House in the Cerulean Sea, which I also read. But if you prefer the trope of troubled [magical] children in orphanages, then that one might be better suited for you.
“Good tea is patience. It’s not about instant gratification, not like the bags with the little strings. Those can be fleeting, here and gone again before you know it. Tea like this makes you appreciate the effort you put into it. The more it steeps, the stronger the taste.”
― T.J. Klune, Under the Whispering Door
What I did love: this new take on a ferryman, and Hugo finding people’s favourite teas by gently coaxing them into conversation over a warm cup. It was comforting despite the end of life theme running underneath it all. A tea shop for the dead? I am sold. It made me feel nice to think that after you die you might end up in a sweet little tea shop drinking the most nostalgic tea with someone so kind. And of course, there is a love story tucked inside. I also think Klune’s version of purgatory is quite fascinating—visually rich, emotionally thoughtful, and quite inventive. The atmospheric descriptions are wonderful. The physical landscape mimics the emotional landscape very well throughout this book.
“But a river only moves in one direction, no matter how much we wish it weren't so.”
― T.J. Klune, Under the Whispering Door
At the end of the day, everyone deserves a chance to find their happiness and to let go—even if that feels harder and harder in this economy.
Now, this book was not exactly my cup of tea (please do not unsubscribe for that pun), but I would still recommend it as a genuinely nice read. It is emotionally charged, relevant, cozy, and yes—I did cry a little. Settle in with your favourite hot drink, your coziest socks, and be prepared to re-evaluate your relationship to money, grind culture, the people around you, and what happiness actually means. What you want is not always what you need—and sometimes, what you need does not come in the lifetime you expect.
Find it at your library or local bookstore!
Piranesi by Susanna Clarke
“Not everything about the Wind was bad. Sometimes it blew through the little voids and crevices of the Statues and caused them to sing and whistle in surprising ways; I had never known the Statues to have voices before and it made me laugh for sheer delight.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi
summary: Piranesi is a haunting, dreamlike novel about a man who lives in a vast, infinite house filled with statues, sea tides, and a strange, serene sense of purpose. The house is both his world and his companion—a labyrinth of marble and water where he documents tides, measures the days, and catalogues the statues with care and reverence. There’s only one other person he interacts with: a man he calls The Other, who enlists his help in searching for something called A Great and Secret Knowledge.
“I felt a surge of anger and for a moment I thought I would not tell him what I knew. But then I thought that it was unkind to punish him for something he cannot help. It is not his fault that he does not see things the way I do.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi
At first, the book feels like a meditation—quiet, mysterious, lonely, and mythic. But as the protagonist, known as Piranesi, continues to explore, he begins to find traces of another person and a flickering sense that something is not quite right. His journals slowly become a record of self-discovery, a piecing-together of what has been hidden or forgotten. The truth, once it arrives, is disorienting in the best way.
This is a story about isolation, memory, control, and the quiet endurance of wonder. It’s disorienting and beautiful, claustrophobic and expansive, like wandering through a crumbling temple in a dream you cannot quite wake from. A house with no exit. A man with no past. A myth that folds in on itself.
“Perhaps even people you like and admire immensely can make you see the World in ways you would rather not.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi
Of course I loved this book. If you know me or have been following my reviews, you have a general picture of what I like. This book offers everything I want out of a literary fantasy: a rich writing style, a deep relationship to myth and memory, disorientation and paranoia, and an intensely beautiful, startling world. Clarke’s world building shines through here—she takes something as contained as a house and transforms it into an expansive, enigmatic realm brimming with whimsy and quiet terror. I ate it up. Yet another book I am incredibly jealous that I did not write myself. Her writing style is just so beautiful. And you learn along with the protagonist about his state of mind and the world. Fantasy, literary fiction, a touch of mystery and thriller in genre. Overall: a work of art.
“This experience led me to form a hypothesis: perhaps the wisdom of birds resides, not in the individual, but in the flock, the congregation.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi
Like the aforementioned cozy fantasy, Piranesi in all its literary fantasy glory is filled with lines of quiet wisdom—phrases that nestled into my mind and stayed there long after I finished reading. I am lucky in that my memory is quite poor (generally not something to brag about except in this case), so rereading books is always a joy; I often forget major plot points. But even if that were not the case, I would still return to this one. There is always something new to uncover here, and once you reach the end, rereading it becomes an entirely different journey—one shaped by the knowledge and revelations you now carry. This book places a great deal of trust in its reader, and I think that trust is more than rewarded.
“Our clothes were plastered to our bodies with wet. My hair - which is dark and curly - was as full of droplets as a Cloud. I rained every time I moved.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi
I borrowed this book from the library awhile back when I was trying to cut back on my book spending habits, but I have a feeling that one day it will end up on my home shelf. My dream is to have a personal library where I can shelve everything the way I want and have an entire wall dedicated to all my favourite books.
Rereading what I have written above, I realize it might sound like I always favour literary fiction and do not appreciate genre fiction—but let me set the record straight: I love genre fiction. I love cozy fantasy. Some authors simply do it better than others. My own fantasy voice, despite all attempts otherwise, often leans toward a YA tone rather than literary. And as much as I enjoy reading about death and the afterlife, I am just as drawn to books that are dreamlike, strange, and atmospheric. What I wanted to do here was offer a contrast—two popular fantasy books that sit at very different ends of the spectrum, both of which are worth your time in different ways. I’m interested to hear what you all think!
Find at your library or local bookstore!
Conclusions
In the end, Under the Whispering Door and Piranesi both deal with questions of identity, grief, and the search for meaning—but they approach those questions in radically different ways. One invites you in with warmth, tea, and gentle guidance; the other pulls you through flooded marble halls, asking you to sit with silence and slowly unearth the truth for yourself. Where Klune wraps his readers in cozy blankets of comfort and connection, Clarke offers a puzzle-box of memory and myth that haunts the reader more directly. Both are introspective in their own right, but one is a hand to hold, the other a mirror in the dark. I loved the contrast, and I think reading them side by side reveals how vast and varied the genre can be—even when it is whispering quietly.
Thanks for reading!
xx,
Ciara
Just the title of Cozy Fantasy had me hooked even before I read your review. 😁