A Review of Divine Mortals by Amanda M. Helander

*SPOILER ALERT* This review contains plot details of Divine Mortals.

This title will be published on October 8, 2024 by Disney Hyperion.

When writing within a specific genre utilizing specific tropes, an author makes a compact with the reader to deliver on these conventions, or else, convincingly subvert them in a satisfying way. This subversion was my hope for Amanda M. Helander’s fantasy novel, Divine Mortals, showcasing a premise that focuses on the soulmate trope and a summary that touts a complex fantasy world and a unique, compelling romance. While Divine Mortals has flashes of enjoyability, with fun character moments and beautiful prose, it nevertheless falls short on delivering its most fundamental promises.

Mona Arnett is an eighteen-year-old favored mortal, chosen by a god and given powers beyond a normal human or a magician. Mona’s gift is the ability to predict soulmates—even her own. To her surprise, her services are sought by Master Whitman, an advisor to King Isaac, ruler of Opalvale. The king is dying without an heir, and Whitman desires Mona’s skills to help him locate a queen before it’s too late.

Unfortunately for Mona, her reading indicates she is the king’s soulmate—though it’s the king’s advisor she’s drawn towards. And perhaps more pressing, housebound Mona has no desire to be a leader, and even less desire to consider anyone’s wants aside from her own. She will do anything to not be crowned queen, but the interference of scheming gods, a murderous blackmailer, and an irritating reborn conscience force her to confront her past and her weaknesses.

This premise would seem to make Mona an unlikeable protagonist, a flaw that female fantasy MCs often come under scrutiny for. But while Mona has her childish moments, she is ultimately a sympathetic character who struggles deeply with depression and mental health. When she responds to her circumstances with cowardice or self-absorption, it is understood this stems from her guilt and her insecurities. One of the most satisfying aspects of the book is her unlearning of destructive patterns by accepting help and taking responsibility for her own actions. Mona’s flaws and her journey to overcome them makes her feel very human and very real.

Similarly, Mona’s love interest is unconventional by current romantasy standards. Whitman is not the stereotypical rakish, charming, bristling-with-muscle Casanova, but rather a blunt, practical adult. He carries a confidence and competency well beyond his years, while still presenting a flustered and overwhelmed response to Mona’s teasing sexual overtures. Whitman’s personality showcases depth, loyalty, and aspirations beyond the romance with the female protagonist, and that is refreshing.

Overall, Helander shows great talent for creating characters that are engaging, funny, and extremely likable. Supporting characters such as Mona’s adversary turned friend, Byers, or Byers and Mona’s sarcastic and unhelpfully helpful mentor, Tasha, carry scenes with their banter and strong personalities. However, there is little exploration of their personal histories, or how it might impact them from day to day. Often, the plot is so eager to resolve itself that it spins past moments that could allow readers vital moments of intimacy with the characters. Whitman, Byers, and Tasha struggle with dark pasts that haunt their present, but these traumas are never followed to fruition in favor of the main plot/Mona. And while there will most likely be a sequel to this book, relying on a future installment to wrap up loose threads is not ideal. Feeding the reader a satisfying meal of backstory and interiority is more liable to have them return for more.

This rapid pacing also affects the romance between Whitman and Mona, and here we fall into negative tropes that tend to plague romantasies. Mona and Whitman’s relationship is primarily centered around lust, with a quick escalation on Mona’s side that never feels like it matures past her initial attraction and her eventual admiration of Whitman’s “kindness” towards her. Whitman’s main desire is to save his king and the kingdom, and this clashes painfully with Mona’s desire to protect only herself. It is not until the very end of the book that she begins to care about serving and saving others, so any common ground between her and Whitman is limited. The story doesn’t explain why a mature, self-contained guy like Whitman would fall for an impulsive, self-serving eighteen-year-old, who’s clearly struggling with growing pains. It seems, to make Mona and Whitman’s affair feel more tortured, Helander separates them as much as possible. But this just serves to make their connection feel shallow, purely sexual, and annoyingly fraught.

Another expectation of fantasy readers is a fantastical and riveting setting, and this an arena in which Helander delivers. The author has a clear rapture for her setting the “Flood” and for the magic of Mona’s soulmate readings. Every time a character interacts with magic or with this magical realm, the prose is at its best—lyrical, descriptive, and enchanting. But despite Helander’s excellent descriptions and setting, the worldbuilding behind these elements is lacking. A distinct aesthetic is invaluable for making your fantasy world memorable, but aesthetic is not enough. Readers expect the function and logic of a society and its magic systems to be explained—yet the extent and nature of the humans or gods’ powers are frustratingly murky. And not knowing the extent of the gods’ abilities makes it practically impossible to sense the “twist” of the book until it’s almost upon you, which makes it feel cheap, a deus ex machina situation where the gods can do whatever they want with magic to accomplish their ends.

But perhaps the most disappointing, failed promise of this book is the soulmate aspect, which has no relevance past the initial premise. The tagline of Divine Mortals is “A future she doesn’t want, a soulmate she can’t deny,” and yet, we never find out who Mona’s true soulmate is. It would be one thing if the lack of a soulmate was a statement of some kind, an assertion, perhaps, that love cannot be predicted or perfect. But the function of soulmates doesn’t exist prominently in the narrative. Soulmates don’t have an impact on the way society functions. They are not particularly special or valued. They aren’t guaranteed to love you back. Soulmates don’t even play into the romance between Mona and Whitman significantly, except for some minor jealousy when he believes Mona’s soulmate is the king. It leaves one wondering if the soulmate side-plot was even needed at all, or if another reason could have been written to compel Mona to the castle and into Whitman’s path. The premise of this book was strong, the ideas compelling, and the enthusiasm palpable, but the execution doesn’t meet expectations. Helander makes brilliant characters and has conceptualized a beautiful world. If she can build on this foundational skeleton with the meat of backstory, worldbuilding, and a pursuit of fulfilling the promises of the premise, her writing has the potential to step up to the next level of mastery. After all, the most effective writing is writing that makes a promise to the reader and follows through.