Scavenge the Stars, and the Countess of Gender-Bending
- Polly Angelova
- Jun 19, 2020
- 4 min read

This book had me at 'gender-swapped retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo' (which is one of my all-time favourite books!) and only momentarily lost me at the end. Having gone into the story thinking this is a standalone novel, I was a bit let down by the ending, but my disappointment was short-lived, and I was pleased to discover it's a series.
SO now that I've prepared you for this, you have zero excuse to not wholeheartedly love Scavenge the Starts.
The narrative follows the adventures of Amaya, also known as Silverfish (it's a whole weird thing, don't ask!), as she treads the familiar path of salvation, makeover montage and manipulation to get back at those who wronged her. She's reintroduced to society as Countess Yamaa. Get it guys, she made an anagram of her real name. How cute!
From the very start, The Count of Monte Cristo vibes are strong, but much like the original story, not everything is as it seems. As Amaya digs deeper and deeper into the past, the facts get more muddled up and her motivations reshape. Our protagonist starts off as incredibly salty and stabby, which I absolutely love, and she's so inept and awkward as the Countess, which is great comic relief.
Not to mention it's way more believable that Amaya would be uncomfortable dressing and acting as a proper lady when she's grown up half-savage on a pirate ship, than imagining her suddenly being super smooth and well-versed in the ways of high society. Plus, it checks out with her short-tempered stabby-ness that she'd rush head-first into this scheme instead of waiting years and year until she's polished her act.
My main qualm with the heroine is her obliviousness to the schemes going on around her. It directly contradicts the character setup of Amaya as being very street-smart, and her initial distrust of Boon. But considering the entire plot relies on her being partially in the dark, I am willing to suspend disbelief for the sake of dramatic reveals and daring adventure.
Anyways, the similarities with the source material pretty much end here. Instead of an exploration of the nature of revenge, forgiveness and the complexity of relationships, the rest of the book is a swashbuckling YA romp through a vice-ridden city ripe with behind-the-scenes machinations. It's more reminiscent of Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows duology in pacing and tone. Except, instead of a heist it's a confusing counterfeit scheme.
One of the most notable differences is the multiple points of view the story is told from - instead of just focusing on Amaya, it shifts between her and the son of the man she's set out to ruin, Cayo. It's a nice twist which allows us to see the events from the other side of the revenge fence. For me, it was a glimpse of what the original story would have looked like if we got to hear from the loved ones of those who betrayed Edmond Dantes.
Cayo is both softer and more relatable than Amaya, which both made me like him more and caused me more suffering when he couldn't catch a break. Boy's just trying to turn his life around, y'all. Instead he falls for a woman who's lying to him, accidentally uncovers his father's shady scheming, gets drugged and ends up kidnapped on a ship alongside his dying sister.
I should also come clean and admit that a big part of why I felt such kinship for hims was his sexuality. Which leads me nicely to one of the strongest points of this book for me - the absolutely lit LGBTQ representation. Cayo (one of our main characters!!) is portrayed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, as bisexual. Very early on we are also introduced to the asexual best friend of Amaya, who I'm hoping we'll see more of in the next instalment.
The list goes on and on. Amaya's entourage prominently features two sassy ladies who are lovers. Halfway through the story, we also casually meet a non-binary casino employee who is absolutely delightful. No one seems to think of it as strange or care very much at all who has what parts and who is kissing whom, and I am here for it!
My only qualm with LGBTQ representation is the story line following Cayo's ex-lover, who gets maimed and then shipped off to sea. It's a bit too close to the Bury Your Gays trope, although based on the rest of the book I'd like to give Sim the benefit of doubt. Plus, I'm holding out hope that we'll see him again alive and (relatively) well.
The Count of Monte Cristo elements aside, the plot is a mad roller-coaster with as many as five villains dipping in and out of the action, multiple different mysteries which somehow end up being connected, but we still don't know quite how, and an ending that, quite literally, takes us in an unexpected direction. Everyone is sad about something, mad at someone, and overall just a veritable mess.
If you like neatly tied narratives with consistent characterisation and a satisfying resolution, this story might miss the mark. But if you're here for a wild YA fantasy ride across the fictional seas and all over an unidentified island populated with a mix of truly horrible people and lovable gays, hop on board.
4/5 stars
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