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I got as far as the end of Part One (of Five) and decided I was done. None of the wonder and whimsy that I adored in The Ten Thousand Doors of January is present here. Instead it's a relentlessly grim reimagining of late nineteenth century American feminism in a world where witchcraft is real. In other circumstances I might have persevered, but there are too many other stories I would rather be reading right now.