Today I’m delighted to be reviewing A Theory of Drowning by Ava Reid. I was ridiculously excited for this sequel to A Study in Drowning which instantly became a new favourite for me. So how did it stack up to my sky-high expectations?
This review originally appeared on The Nerd Daily.

All stories come to an end. Effy learned that when she defeated the Fairy King. Even though she may never know exactly what happened at Hiraeth, she is free of her nightmares and is able to pen a thesis with Preston on the beloved national fairytale Angharad. She has finally earned a spot at the literature college, making her the first woman in history to enroll.
But some dreams are dangerous, especially when they come true. The entire university – and soon the entire nation – is waiting for her to fail. With the Fairy King defeated and Myrddin’s legacy exposed, Effy can no longer escape into fantasy. Who is she without her stories?
With Effy under threat, Preston is surprised to discover a rage simmering inside him, ringing in his ears like bells. He begins to dream of a palace under the sea, a world where he is king – visions that start to follow him even in waking.
As the war between Llyr and Argant explodes, Effy and Preston find themselves caught in the crossfire: Effy losing her dreams and Preston losing himself in his. Are dreams ever truly just dreams?
Publication Date: 5th August
CW: death, grief, PTSD, traumatic flashbacks, sexual assault, racism
My Thoughts:
A Theory of Dreaming was one of my most anticipated titles of the year and Ava Reid smashed it out of the park again. This is a beautiful, lyrical and Gothic examination of legacy, family, grief and the systematic exclusion of those considered outsiders.
Effy and Preston are returning to a world changed by their radical thesis shaped by the events of A Study in Drowning. Their work is controversial as it goes against a central story that underpins the history and culture of Ilyr, in fact against its very fabric. It recontextualises one of the most eminent figures in their society and the ire this causes has far-reaching and dangerous consequences. It constantly feels like they are going against the world and all the odds are stacked against them. They have spoken truth to power and now the consequences land. I loved the way the academia went hand in hand with the more fantastical elements of the book, something I adored in the sequel. Reid retains that lyrical quality in their writing, particularly in Preston’s dreamscapes. It is deftly executed worldbuilding with vividly imagined settings. However the core always remains with the emotional aspects of the story. It is here that Reid steps into their own.
The use of dual POV is wonderful as we get to hear more from both central characters this time around—tapping into the strengths and vulnerabilities they showed in the first book. They have been fundamentally changed by those events and it is fascinating to see their development. It is heart-wrenching and uplifting in equal measure. Reid’s focus is always on emotional truth, no matter the cost. You let these characters into your heart and they may just tear it apart. Both of their stories delve into dark and difficult territory, so do check any content warnings you may wish to be aware of. With Preston’s story, the xenophobia exhibited in the first book is on stark display once again. As he has gone against a founding myth of this land, he is further ostracised than before. That alienation cuts deep as political murmurs escalate into a full-blown war. He is wracked with guilt and grief, losing himself in these dreamscapes. Without spoiling anything, these are incredibly poignant and thematically rich. They speak to the violence he has endured and continues to endure. It is a way of reconnecting and also reclaiming his story despite those who may try and erase it.
This strongly focuses on the deliberate erasure of those considered unnecessary to the narrative, particularly in terms of constructing narratives of power. We saw this in the original and Reid continues to explore the erasure of women from their own stories. There is so much unacknowledged labour of women throughout history that enabled men to have the space to go forth and do great things. Equally there are also plenty of great unacknowledged women that were an integral part of these great things or indeed were the true genius. This book is preoccupied with shining a light on this and retelling the stories to include all those who contributed. It is a strong message of reclaiming your narrative that reverberates between the two books.
Reid also explores the idea of the muse—an often slightly tragically beautiful female figure that inspires the masterpieces of men. They interrogate this simplistic reductionism of the muse and instead build an ode to love that could topple cities. It is an unrelenting force of nature that defies the odds. Love is the key to the universe in this world and the driving force of many characters, though their love may be a more twisted form. Effy and Preston’s relationship is gorgeous to read with layers to unpick and new ones to weave. It is achingly tender and you carry that love from the first book into the new, where you root for them to overcome once more.
A Theory of Dreaming is a stunning conclusion to a duology deeply concerned with the narratives underscoring the power structures upholding unjust societies. It is incredibly timely and spectacular.
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