Reader Confessions: Caraval by Stephanie Garber

Welcome back to Reader Confessions, where I share the messy, unfiltered truth about the books everyone seems to love… except me. This week’s victim? Caraval by Stephanie Garber.

Listen—I wanted to love this book. I wanted to fall headfirst into the glittering magic, the dark carnival vibes, the swoony romance. I went in ready to be obsessed. And instead? It was mid. Not terrible, not great—just one long sigh of meh.

What I Liked (a tiny bit)

• The idea. The concept of Caraval—a deadly, magical game where reality blurs with illusion—is genius. It should have been everything.

• The aesthetic. Garber’s writing is lush and whimsical. The gowns, the lights, the atmosphere—it was gorgeous to imagine.

• Julian. Honestly, he was the only reason I kept turning the pages. Brooding, charming, mysterious—he brought the tension Scarlett never could.

What I Didn’t Like (aka, the real list)

• Scarlett. I’m sorry, but she was so bland. I kept waiting for her to grow, to make bold choices, to step into her power… and she never really did.

• The pacing. For a book that promises thrill and urgency, it dragged. Entire chapters felt like filler, and I caught myself zoning out instead of being glued to the page.

• The predictability. I guessed most of the twists long before they hit, which left the “big reveals” feeling flat and lifeless.

• The hype. This might be the cruelest cut of all. With how much people rave about this book, I thought I’d be in for a ride. Instead, it felt like an overhyped carnival where the show never really started.

Final Thoughts

Here’s my truth: Caraval was forgettable. And honestly, that might be the worst kind of review a book can get. I didn’t hate it enough to be ranting into the void, but I also didn’t love it enough to be shouting from the rooftops. It just… sat there. Like a book-shaped bowl of plain oatmeal—technically food, technically fine, but absolutely nothing to write home about.

The biggest problem? The hype. Everyone calls Caraval magical, breathtaking, a whirlwind of romance and fantasy. So I cracked it open expecting fireworks, expecting to be dazzled, expecting to find my next obsession. And instead, it was like standing outside of a carnival tent, watching the lights flicker, only to step inside and realize the rides are broken and the show never really starts.

Scarlett was flat, the twists were predictable, and the pacing dragged like a carnival line in 100-degree heat. By the time I finished, I wasn’t enchanted or heartbroken—I was just relieved it was over. Not angry, not swooning, just… done. Which feels like such a betrayal for a book with this much potential.

Would I pick up the sequels? Maybe. Partly because I’ve heard Legendary and Finale are stronger, and partly because I really want to see if Garber redeems the concept. But as for book one? It was mid. No spark, no bite, no staying power. The kind of book that makes you shrug and move on.

Sorry not sorry, Caraval stans—sometimes the magic is nothing more than smoke and mirrors.