This weekend at RavenCon, I'll appear on three panels, one on the topic of cozy fantasy. Here are two of the several definitions I found online:
“Cozy or light fantasy doesn’t have a formal definition. It’s best described as a sub-genre that offers audiences fantasy elements with a low-stakes plot in a magical or high-fantasy setting. Think of it this way: It’s like taking realistic descriptions of your everyday life and adding a fantasy flourish. So, imagine you’re enjoying a latte with a friend, but instead of a local Starbucks you’re having teatime with dragons and your barista is a retired Orc warrior. The plots of these narratives also often focus on character relationships or community.” -- from Activision
“Cozy fantasy is a subgenre of fantasy emphasizing low-stakes, heartwarming stories focused on community, comfort, and everyday life rather than world-ending conflict. It often features 'slice-of-life' themes, found families, and comforting settings like cafes or small towns, providing a calming, 'warm hug' reading experience with guaranteed happy endings.” -- from Reddit
I disagree with the term "low stakes," often found in other definitions or analyses as well. I would instead label this feature of the subgenre "limited scope stakes," although that sounds more awkward. The stakes at issue can be quite "high" for the protagonist, but they're personal or local, not national, global, or cosmic. The hero or (more often, it seems) heroine doesn't save the world or some large region thereof. Granted, in Sarah Beth Durst's THE SPELLSHOP and THE ENCHANTED GREENHOUSE a catastrophic political upheaval dominates the background, but the heroines don't play any role in sparking or ending it. The regional conflict stays in the background, with their own personal troubles -- which are pretty serious, not "low stakes" for them -- driving the plot. Along the same line, I find the occasional claim that cozy fantasy is "lighthearted" inapplicable in most cases. Yes, these books often include humor, but they don't tend to be comedies (except in the classical sense of ending happily).
Sarah Beth Durst has just released another delightful cozy fantasy, but this one, THE FARAWAY INN, has no relation to the two mentioned above (which I reviewed here on July 31, 2025). Like them, though, it features typical subgenre elements such as a "cozy" magical location, quirky nonhuman creatures, and the "found family" theme. While they’re adult novels set in a secondary world, THE FARAWAY INN is a YA contemporary fantasy. Calisa, the sixteen-year-old protagonist, hadn’t planned to leave her urban home and spend most of the summer before her senior year in “a place with a truly excessive number of trees.” After she catches her boyfriend cheating on her, though, Calisa accepts her mother’s suggestion to visit her great-aunt’s Faraway Inn in the wilds of Vermont. The bed-and-breakfast doesn’t match Calisa’s vague memories of childhood visits. The place turns out to be rundown and mostly empty. Furthermore, Auntie Zee doesn’t want help and only grudgingly agrees to a three-day trial period. Calisa throws herself into cleaning, cooking, and weed-clearing in hopes of being allowed to stay longer. The change of scenery and chance to make herself useful eventually grant her the perspective to realize she’s better off without her two-timing boyfriend. Getting to know Jack, the caretaker’s attractive, helpful, charmingly awkward teenage son, doesn’t hurt.
The strangeness of the inn begins to reveal itself almost at once. Auntie Zee imposes two strict rules: Don’t ask questions, and don’t open doors without permission. Naturally, Calisa often finds herself breaking those prohibitions. Random doors sometimes lead to portals into other worlds. A statue seems to move when her back is turned. One guest keeps a gargoyle in his room. Another, a woman, has green skin and an affinity for plants. There’s also a miniature dragon hanging around the house. When additional regulars, each decidedly peculiar to some extent, show up expecting the usual level of service, they’re justifiably dubious of Calisa’s ability to measure up to Auntie Zee’s standards. Moreover, Jack confides in Calisa that his father disappeared several years earlier. No wonder the place is falling apart. Although with plenty of surprises and twists along the way, the story concludes as the genre-savvy reader would expect. Jack and Calisa track down his father; Auntie Zee admits she needs help and accepts Calisa as the one to provide it; Calisa matures while reassessing her personal situation. She strikes me as a sympathetic character, a believable teenager with the typical anxieties, yet not at all whiny or otherwise annoying. Jack is also strong and likable. It’s fun to meet the variety of not-quite-human guests and watch Calisa solve the challenges presented by a magical family business. Also, I can’t neglect to mention the physical allure of this trade paperback. It has the most elaborate, beautifully colored edge drawing (artwork on the edges of the pages, visible when the book is closed) I’ve ever seen.
Next week I'll report on the highlights of RavenCon.
Margaret L. Carter
Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

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