Amy Rose Capetta
Author of Once & Future
About the Author
Series
Works by Amy Rose Capetta
Tasting Light: Ten Science Fiction Stories to Rewire Your Perceptions (2022) — Editor — 42 copies, 1 review
Associated Works
That Way Madness Lies: 15 of Shakespeare's Most Notable Works Reimagined (2021) — Contributor — 154 copies, 5 reviews
Starstuff: Ten Science Fiction Stories to Celebrate New Possibilities (2025) — Contributor — 11 copies, 1 review
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Legal name
- Capetta, Amy Rose
- Birthdate
- 20th Century
- Gender
- non-binary
- Education
- Vermont College of Fine Arts
- Relationships
- McCarthy, Cori (partner)
- Short biography
- Amy Rose Capetta [she/her] is an author of YA fantasy, sci-fi, and mystery. Her first novel, Entangled, was a BEA Buzz Book. Her latest, Echo After Echo, is a queer love story wrapped in a murder mystery and set on Broadway. It received two starred reviews and is a Junior Library Guild selection. Upcoming: The Brilliant Death (Viking 2018), The Lost Coast (Candlewick 2019), Once & Future (co-written with Cori McCarthy, from Little, Brown’s Jimmy Imprint in 2019). She holds a BA in Theater Arts from the University of California at Santa Cruz and an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from VCFA. Amy Rose is the co-founder of the Rainbow Writers Workshop, the first-ever LGBTQIAP workshop for YA and middle grade. She lives in Vermont with her partner and their young son.
- Nationality
- USA
- Associated Place (for map)
- USA
Members
Reviews
Loved the fresh take on King Arthur. It's been done so many times, but never quite like this, which I thought was great. Love the female King Arthur, Ari (a little brash at first, a little bull-headed, but lovable), but more than that, LOVE the redemptive story for Morgana. It's a really smart, sensitive way to retell the story in a way that fits our cultural atmosphere (and haven't we been doing that to this legend ever since it began...retelling it to fit our own times).
I loved the representation in this book. Syd does not use any pronouns and works in the best work environment ever - it just happens to be a queer bakery and community space in Austin. Syd bakes some brownies while dealing with a recent breakup. Then everyone who ate the brownies begins to break up. Syd tries to deal with this by creating more magical bakes to repair relationships. Syd's family is supportive even when they don't understand what Syd is going through. I thought i was pretty show more educated about the LGBTQA+ community, but I learned so much while enjoying this beautiful story. This book led me to reading more by A. R. Capetta. show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
Spoiler warning. Sword in the Stars by Amy Rose Capetta and Cori McCarthy concludes the duology, following Merlin and Ari, the reincarnation of King Arthur, as they travel back to Camelot in search of a weapon powerful enough to defeat the Mercer Corporation in their own future.
This is a book that wants to say a great deal. It holds mirrors up to both past and present, and if you read, as I do, with an eye toward fiction as a learning device, there is much here to engage with. The authors show more are clearly interested in the ways societies construct exclusion at a systemic level, and in how capitalism can entrench harmful behaviour. Some of my reservations about tokenism in the first book are directly addressed here through increased page time and interiority for side characters, particularly Jordan and Lam. Their presence feels more grounded and less symbolic in this volume.
Where I felt a slight wobble was in a handful of moments of overt commentary. Merlin’s reflections on his amassed library near the end gesture quite pointedly toward the queerbaiting discourse around the Merlin television series. I understand the impulse, and I share the frustration that sits behind it, but for me it thinned the fictional veil slightly. What might have read as an Easter egg instead felt like a reminder of the authors speaking through the character. Other readers may experience that intertextual nod as energising. For me, alongside a few similarly direct passages, it occasionally tipped the balance from character expression into commentary vehicle, even while I agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.
What works especially well is the queernormative framework established in book one and expanded here. The central cast arrives from a far future in which gender and sexual diversity are normalised. Jordan as an asexual Black knight, Lam as non binary, Val as a demiboy, Ari and Gwen as two bi women deeply committed to one another, Merlin as gay, all create a thriving, textured community. Their plunge into the medieval period places them in tension with more restrictive norms, but prejudice is often conveyed through cultural assumptions rather than relentless violence or overt hostility.
For example, Arthur’s response to Ari’s sex and to the bond between Gwen and Ari comes from a place of acceptance. Lam’s relationship with Morgause becomes a tender aside, and Lam’s choice to remain in the past allows the book to explore the constraints of gender roles without reducing the storyline to suffering. There is damage acknowledged, but there is also hope. Jordan's revelation as a female knight, and Sir Kay’s response, is one of the clearer instances of overt prejudice. In contrast to the nuance elsewhere, Sir Kay leans heavily on stereotype and feels comparatively thinly drawn.
One thread that resonated strongly was the explicit acknowledgement of ethnic diversity in early Britain and the way later histories would erase it. The point is underlined more than once, perhaps longer than strictly necessary, yet its insistence carries its own quiet urgency. A similar effect appears in two brief but striking moments: the reference to Anglo Saxon women’s historical ability to divorce, later stripped away, and the framing of Gwen’s baby’s sex as assigned, with gender identity something to be discovered in time. Both moments are thought provoking, drawing a line between past and present. With the example of Nimue's mother, the context of the comment also felt like something of a nudge around ability to use rights when they are gained, or else run the risk of losing that freedom - a notion that feels particularly compelling in our current political context where many countries have right wing groups fighting to repeal freedoms afforded by liberal predecessors.
Given the medieval setting, the relative restraint around violence stands out. Conflict exists, and there are battles, but the narrative leans toward alliance building, such as Arthur with Avalon's enchantresses, and Gwen’s strategic guidance. The focus rests less on conquest and more on reshaping systems from within. Ari and Gwen modelling self determination in the face of constricting roles offers readers something constructive rather than purely reactive. The humour, often but not exclusively channelled through Merlin, helps balance the thematic weight.
From a craft perspective, the structural ambition is notable. Multiple timelines are woven together with clear magical rules, and the resolution honours those boundaries. Merlin’s experience of time toward the end is paced with care, and the reunion scenes acknowledge how disorienting such revelations would be. The ending feels seeded from early on, with twists that land cleanly rather than abruptly.
If I were to name an area where I felt occasional looseness, it would be in the dialogue. The banter is part of the group dynamic, and often charming, yet at times certain exchanges felt as though the lines could have been reassigned without changing the emotional texture. That may be less about humour itself and more about moments where individual voice blurs slightly within the character cast.
Overall, this remains a relatively light read that engages with significant ideas. For readers drawn to queernorm Arthurian retellings, playful banter, and time travel braided with paradox, it will deliver on all counts. show less
This is a book that wants to say a great deal. It holds mirrors up to both past and present, and if you read, as I do, with an eye toward fiction as a learning device, there is much here to engage with. The authors show more are clearly interested in the ways societies construct exclusion at a systemic level, and in how capitalism can entrench harmful behaviour. Some of my reservations about tokenism in the first book are directly addressed here through increased page time and interiority for side characters, particularly Jordan and Lam. Their presence feels more grounded and less symbolic in this volume.
Where I felt a slight wobble was in a handful of moments of overt commentary. Merlin’s reflections on his amassed library near the end gesture quite pointedly toward the queerbaiting discourse around the Merlin television series. I understand the impulse, and I share the frustration that sits behind it, but for me it thinned the fictional veil slightly. What might have read as an Easter egg instead felt like a reminder of the authors speaking through the character. Other readers may experience that intertextual nod as energising. For me, alongside a few similarly direct passages, it occasionally tipped the balance from character expression into commentary vehicle, even while I agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.
What works especially well is the queernormative framework established in book one and expanded here. The central cast arrives from a far future in which gender and sexual diversity are normalised. Jordan as an asexual Black knight, Lam as non binary, Val as a demiboy, Ari and Gwen as two bi women deeply committed to one another, Merlin as gay, all create a thriving, textured community. Their plunge into the medieval period places them in tension with more restrictive norms, but prejudice is often conveyed through cultural assumptions rather than relentless violence or overt hostility.
For example, Arthur’s response to Ari’s sex and to the bond between Gwen and Ari comes from a place of acceptance. Lam’s relationship with Morgause becomes a tender aside, and Lam’s choice to remain in the past allows the book to explore the constraints of gender roles without reducing the storyline to suffering. There is damage acknowledged, but there is also hope. Jordan's revelation as a female knight, and Sir Kay’s response, is one of the clearer instances of overt prejudice. In contrast to the nuance elsewhere, Sir Kay leans heavily on stereotype and feels comparatively thinly drawn.
One thread that resonated strongly was the explicit acknowledgement of ethnic diversity in early Britain and the way later histories would erase it. The point is underlined more than once, perhaps longer than strictly necessary, yet its insistence carries its own quiet urgency. A similar effect appears in two brief but striking moments: the reference to Anglo Saxon women’s historical ability to divorce, later stripped away, and the framing of Gwen’s baby’s sex as assigned, with gender identity something to be discovered in time. Both moments are thought provoking, drawing a line between past and present. With the example of Nimue's mother, the context of the comment also felt like something of a nudge around ability to use rights when they are gained, or else run the risk of losing that freedom - a notion that feels particularly compelling in our current political context where many countries have right wing groups fighting to repeal freedoms afforded by liberal predecessors.
Given the medieval setting, the relative restraint around violence stands out. Conflict exists, and there are battles, but the narrative leans toward alliance building, such as Arthur with Avalon's enchantresses, and Gwen’s strategic guidance. The focus rests less on conquest and more on reshaping systems from within. Ari and Gwen modelling self determination in the face of constricting roles offers readers something constructive rather than purely reactive. The humour, often but not exclusively channelled through Merlin, helps balance the thematic weight.
From a craft perspective, the structural ambition is notable. Multiple timelines are woven together with clear magical rules, and the resolution honours those boundaries. Merlin’s experience of time toward the end is paced with care, and the reunion scenes acknowledge how disorienting such revelations would be. The ending feels seeded from early on, with twists that land cleanly rather than abruptly.
If I were to name an area where I felt occasional looseness, it would be in the dialogue. The banter is part of the group dynamic, and often charming, yet at times certain exchanges felt as though the lines could have been reassigned without changing the emotional texture. That may be less about humour itself and more about moments where individual voice blurs slightly within the character cast.
Overall, this remains a relatively light read that engages with significant ideas. For readers drawn to queernorm Arthurian retellings, playful banter, and time travel braided with paradox, it will deliver on all counts. show less
Disclaimer: I received this book for free from LibraryThing Early Reviewers and Candlewick Press in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
I really, really enjoy Amy Rose Capetta’s writing style. If you’ve been around this blog before, you’ve heard me babble about how much I enjoyed Echo After Echo. This book has a similar feel in its characters, but the aesthetic of a town among the Redwoods feels so vibrant and alive. show more Amy Rose Capetta is a master of atmosphere, and I fall into her books so easily. I am here for anything she writes. Even when the story or the characters aren’t amazing, her writing style gets me to the end easily.
With the same characteristic as Echo After Echo, The Lost Coast was a book I could have easily read in one sitting. In fact, the only reason I didn’t is because we’re in the process of packing up all our possession as I write this, and I’ve been stealing time to read. Still, I found myself pushing my self-imposed boundaries because I didn’t want to put it down. I love Tempest, the way it seems to settle into the land. I love the variety of buildings and people. I love how the students at school seem to speak with one voice, carving out only the Greys and Danny. It’s a whispering place that feels old and clouded with cool fog and falling crow feathers and basically I’m just a sucker for any witch story set on the Pacific Coast.
The story line is a little lose here. I will admit – The Lost Coast feels like you’re going in circles, and once the secret is revealed… it’s a bit anti-climatic. The ending left me wondering what happened to Danny after the story. It was interesting to follow a protagonist on the edge of things: Danny works with the Greys, but I never felt like she truly became one of them. Therefore, the relationships we see are between other people, and I personally didn’t feel any emotional attachment or investment in Danny herself. I don’t think we got to know any of the characters deeply enough to really love them. Vague curiosity, but not attachment.
For the feel of this novel, Amy Rose Capetta gets full marks. But the story tried to do a lot of things and they all jumbled together and tripped over one another. It could have been a little better developed and a little more depth would have been nice. It was almost there – it was so close – but didn’t quite make it. I loved the feel of this book, but the story wasn’t as good as it could have been.
Still, if you like that witchy aesthetic and books like The Price Guide to the Occult and The Wicked Deep, you simply must read this one. Tack on the many shades of LGBTQ+ rep here, and it’s a beautiful thought. If you’re looking for yourself in YA magical realism, you may just find yourself in one of the Greys. show less
I really, really enjoy Amy Rose Capetta’s writing style. If you’ve been around this blog before, you’ve heard me babble about how much I enjoyed Echo After Echo. This book has a similar feel in its characters, but the aesthetic of a town among the Redwoods feels so vibrant and alive. show more Amy Rose Capetta is a master of atmosphere, and I fall into her books so easily. I am here for anything she writes. Even when the story or the characters aren’t amazing, her writing style gets me to the end easily.
With the same characteristic as Echo After Echo, The Lost Coast was a book I could have easily read in one sitting. In fact, the only reason I didn’t is because we’re in the process of packing up all our possession as I write this, and I’ve been stealing time to read. Still, I found myself pushing my self-imposed boundaries because I didn’t want to put it down. I love Tempest, the way it seems to settle into the land. I love the variety of buildings and people. I love how the students at school seem to speak with one voice, carving out only the Greys and Danny. It’s a whispering place that feels old and clouded with cool fog and falling crow feathers and basically I’m just a sucker for any witch story set on the Pacific Coast.
The story line is a little lose here. I will admit – The Lost Coast feels like you’re going in circles, and once the secret is revealed… it’s a bit anti-climatic. The ending left me wondering what happened to Danny after the story. It was interesting to follow a protagonist on the edge of things: Danny works with the Greys, but I never felt like she truly became one of them. Therefore, the relationships we see are between other people, and I personally didn’t feel any emotional attachment or investment in Danny herself. I don’t think we got to know any of the characters deeply enough to really love them. Vague curiosity, but not attachment.
For the feel of this novel, Amy Rose Capetta gets full marks. But the story tried to do a lot of things and they all jumbled together and tripped over one another. It could have been a little better developed and a little more depth would have been nice. It was almost there – it was so close – but didn’t quite make it. I loved the feel of this book, but the story wasn’t as good as it could have been.
Still, if you like that witchy aesthetic and books like The Price Guide to the Occult and The Wicked Deep, you simply must read this one. Tack on the many shades of LGBTQ+ rep here, and it’s a beautiful thought. If you’re looking for yourself in YA magical realism, you may just find yourself in one of the Greys. show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.Lists
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Statistics
- Works
- 16
- Also by
- 6
- Members
- 2,897
- Popularity
- #8,842
- Rating
- 3.7
- Reviews
- 101
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