Okay, I've been trying to come up with some kind of coherent, cogent review since November, which is when I actually finished reading the book. SomethOkay, I've been trying to come up with some kind of coherent, cogent review since November, which is when I actually finished reading the book. Something beyond my initial reaction of "Holy crap, this is freaking excellent! Everybody has to read this!" Welp, I'm sorry, but my brain just doesn't have the capability to cogitate that well, so we'll be sticking with my basic, enthusiastic, yet inherently sound first thoughts as my review:
This book shouldn't exist. It's just too freaking good, it ruins the timeline for all other books. Damn you, Mastai!
If anyone who reads this book doesn't come away with the same impression, I can't say I'll reimburse them for their purchase, but I will give them a hearty apology (while secretly wondering what's wrong with them. Just kidding, but only by a little bit)....more
Wow. What a fun, thrilling, and, yes, oftentimes quite frightening read!
The Rains was my first experience with author Gregg Hurwitz's work and all I cWow. What a fun, thrilling, and, yes, oftentimes quite frightening read!
The Rains was my first experience with author Gregg Hurwitz's work and all I can say is that I'm mightily impressed. It's obvious Hurwitz has written his fair share of screenplays as his writing style is quite kinetic, dynamic, and vivid, especially in scenes of great action and tension. In fact, with a single change in format, the opening scenes of the novel lay out the action in such a way you can almost see the shot and camera set ups on each page.
Instead of focusing on zombies or a post-apocalyptic dystopia, Hurwitz has taken the little-used concept of alien invasion and given it a fresh twist, imbuing his story with a sense of both realism and urgency. In between the heart-pounding action of a strange meteorite falling to the ground and spreading a strange spore which takes over the minds of every adult in town, The Rains deals with teenage angst and even budding romance, but not in a sappy, ridiculous, or off-putting fashion. Because the novel has a rural setting, the kids are endowed, not with magic or super strength, but instead with common sense, a work ethic, and a sense of resiliency. This doesn't make the kids miniature adults - far from it, as much of the intrapersonal drama will show - but it does give them an ability to get on with the job of survival. Even better, the female characters are just as well-rounded as the male: spirited, able to defend themselves, intelligent, feisty, yet never to the detriment of any of the other characters. Interestingly, animals, in the form of Rhodesian Ridgebacks, are included in the narrative both as a way of showing the younger brother's, Chance's, character development and as an enhancement to the action. The dogs aren't used callously or pointlessly, but in a deliberate fashion, adding just another unique facet to the novel.
Basically, this is a thoroughly engaging, fast-paced, and absorbing novel which packs one heck of a wallop - I can't recommend it highly enough. The only thing I disliked about the entire book was the knowledge that, once I reached the end, I'd have to wait goodness knows how long until the next installment in the series!...more
Once again, DK Publishing (in partnership with the Smithsonian) has proved they are the leaders when it comes to visual reference books. For anyone whOnce again, DK Publishing (in partnership with the Smithsonian) has proved they are the leaders when it comes to visual reference books. For anyone who's interested in the development of urban centers and cartography, this book provides a wonderful history of both.
Instead of being arranged chronologically and covering all cities worldwide, the book is broken down into six sections: Ancient Cities, Medieval Trading Centers, Imperial Capitals, Colonial Cities, Ideal Cities, and Megacities. Each section covers only those cities which fit the description (for example, in Colonial Cities, the book looks at Sydney, San Fransisco, Batavia, Quebec, Santo Domingo, and Capt Town) and often will offer a couple different maps from different time periods for certain cities. For example, under Megacities, four different maps of New York are featured, the first from 1660 when it was still New Amsterdam, the last showing the "circle" Subway map from 2013. Each map is broken down to show who drew it, the printing technique, and how many copies exist. Even better, there's a scale, either full-body or human hand, showing just how big the map is in real life. A couple of paragraphs explain the history of the map, squeezing a great deal of information into a small space; there often follows a small box of info labeled "In Context" which details how each particular map fits into the greater history of cartography and exploration, or offering a biography of the person who sponsored the particular map, such as the "Sun King" Louis XIV of France, or the cartographer, such as Francis Fowkes, the creator of the map of Sydney produced in 1788, or even a short history of the city itself. Certain maps have a double-page spread, where more elaborate maps get broken down through a visual tour, close-ups of certain sections which highlight intriguing features and bygone vistas. Each page is jam-packed with information.
Sturdily hardbound with a thick, matte-textured dustcover, this book doesn't just beautify your coffee table but is also a worthwhile addition to your reference bookshelf, too....more
To be honest, for about the first 9/10ths of the book (yes, I'm being that anal) I was a bit bored and found I was having to force myself to continue To be honest, for about the first 9/10ths of the book (yes, I'm being that anal) I was a bit bored and found I was having to force myself to continue reading because I just couldn't see where the book was going. Then that ending came and walloped me in the face. Seriously, it was like a frozen haddock to the jaw - knocked me completely sideways. So to say this book is stealthy like a ninja, coming up and gutting you in a sneak attack, would be completely on the nose.
I was going to write a longer, more in-depth and complex review, but after reflection I decided, the hell with it. What I wrote stands. After all, it works and it's a completely honest account of my experience, which is all that matters, right?
This is my first experience of Lukavics, who's apparently gotten high praise for her first novel, Daughters Unto Devils. Judging by her second novel, This is my first experience of Lukavics, who's apparently gotten high praise for her first novel, Daughters Unto Devils. Judging by her second novel, either the first was a fluke or her writing is highly overrated because my reaction upon finishing The Women in the Walls was: Meh. Seriously, I have no idea what Lukavics was trying to express with her story: the physical manifestation of psychological trauma? Genuine paranormal experiences? Neither angle succeeded.
Lucy, the protagonist, through whose first person P.O.V. we watch the story unfold, is a cipher, a bland bowl of oatmeal whom engenders no sympathy from the reader and no interest in her fate. She cuts herself to deal with stress... Ooh, she's damaged goods! We are given no deeper meaning to her behavior, no actual psychological depth as to why she cuts herself beyond the facile and shallow glossy-woman's-magazine-article explanation. As someone who used to cut herself, I was offended reading "Lucy's" thoughts and processes concerning the issue.
A big problem with the novel was the determination to not mention any specific time period. We're given to understand it's set sometime in our current time, but that's the problem: the modern setting doesn't suit the mood Lukavics was trying to set up. I knew exactly what she was trying to mimic, the atmosphere of Roman Polanski, of Rosemary's Baby, the sense of a timeless "now," but by using such anachronistic (and frankly ridiculous) phrases like "watching sitcoms" and asking about "search engines" (things no one, certainly not teenagers today, say) simply highlights the bizarre aspect. Had Lukavics been brave enough to set her story back in, say, 1952, the timeless nature she was trying to achieve would've actually come across.
Even worse, once we get past the endless dinner parties which are meant to be sinister and are the grand setup for the climax, the actual ending is baffling and deflating. The wet rag Lucy, who'd finally developed some courage, reverts back to her earlier, spineless self and it's just so... pointless. Nothing in the first parts of the book explain why the ending is necessary, even after the (what I consider ironic) praise the villain heaps upon Lucy, telling her Lucy's been chosen for her strength. Which I thought was just the biggest hoot considering all Lucy does throughout the book is whine, whimper, hide, look bewildered, and generally act in the opposite manner of a strong person.
In the end, I found the book to be disjointed, poorly plotted, and 100% not scary at all. This is one case where I can say I could write a better horror tale and I suck at writing horror....more
I'm still trying to figure out this book. While the writing itself was funny, quirky, witty, and fast-paced with those wonderful asides (of the PratchI'm still trying to figure out this book. While the writing itself was funny, quirky, witty, and fast-paced with those wonderful asides (of the Pratchett-type, footnote variety) of which I'm particularly fond, the story was... rather baffling. As in, what was the whole point of it again?
Yulric Bile is a thousand-year-old vampire recently unearthed from his resting place by Amanda, a vampire-obsessed blonde, and her precocious eight-year-old brother, Simon (who also happens to be the reincarnation of Bile's greatest foe, which handily explains some of Simon's more peculiar quirks). Bile, what you might call an old-school vampire, pale, emaciated, and, quite frankly, ugly, is unprepared for the reality of what vampires have become, no longer the terrifying monsters of humankind's nightmares, but ideals of eternal youth and haunting beauty. Bile soon finds the source of these new ideals, one Dr. Lord Douglas Talby (who even wrote a helpful pamphlet on Proper Vampirism), who has created a focus for his movement in the form of the hit TV show, "The Phantom Vampire Mysteries." Bile decides the only way to reclaim the true nature (and form) of vampires is to destroy Dr. Lord Talby and the show (even though Bile has become quite the fan), and with the help of Amanda's brother Simon, a supernaturally-awakened coma patient by the name of Catherine, and a troop of historical and mythological vampires gathered from around the world, sets his sights on the source of all this evil: Hollywood, California.
An Unattractive Vampire thoroughly skewers the entire vampire community, from the many blood-sucking-themed shows and movies, to the rise of *sigh* body glitter-enhanced, twinkly-type vampires. It even manages to touch on the older vampire cultural touchstones such as Dark Shadows, Forever Knight, even Kindred: The Embraced and the RPG it was loosely based on, Vampire: The Masquerade. You don't have to be an expert in vampires and vampire culture to enjoy or understand the book, but it sure helps if you went through your own particular blood-sucking phase; in this way, you'll be able to catch all the in-jokes and references dropped by McDoniel.
The book was an immensely entertaining read, and quite fast. And yet. And yet. The story was rather messy and all over the place as it couldn't quite decide what, exactly, it wanted to tell, there are characters introduced who we could actually, probably, do just as well without, and while the end presented a "win" for Bile and company, it was a dubious, nebulous sort of win. It made the whole enterprise feel as though I'd just run a race, but instead of breaking a ribbon to mark a successful end, I simply stopped running at some point and declared, "This is the end of the race." Which is why, again, I left the book asking, what was the point to all this?...more
For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why I wasn't liking this book. After all, it concerns Jack the Ripper, a topic I enjoy dissecting (har harFor the longest time, I couldn't figure out why I wasn't liking this book. After all, it concerns Jack the Ripper, a topic I enjoy dissecting (har har), the writing flows easily and moves quickly, and the story idea is an intriguing take on the infamous murder-mystery. It wasn't until the climax of the book that I was able to put my finger on the problem: we're continually told how brilliant the protagonist, Audrey Rose Wadsworth is. We're told she's the most brilliant of her uncle's protoges, we're told her intellect is astounding, such that it's stifled by Victorian standards of feminine behavior and thus requires her to act in unfeminine ways, such as becoming her Uncle Jonathan's apprentice and assisting with his work as coroner, in order to explore her own nature. We're TOLD all these amazing things about Audrey Rose, but we never SEE any of these behaviors in action. Instead we see a spoiled, petulant girl constantly on the verge of stamping her foot in frustration, who constantly blushes and flushes, who does nothing to earn the high praise of the community built around her. For instance, the young man who falls instantly in love with her, despite her obliviousness (natch), is continually astounding Audrey Rose (always Audrey Rose; god forbid we should call her plain Audrey – how common!) with his Sherlockian deductions, yet Audrey Rose is meant to be just as brilliant as this Thomas Cresswell. So why isn't she coming up with equally brilliant deductions or, better yet, besting Thomas'? (Something I would've loved to have seen her accomplish.) It's as though the author didn't quite know the best way to show Audrey Rose being intelligent in the Victorian setting she'd created for her character.
Yet Maniscalco certainly knew how to show off Audrey Rose's feminine side by having her frequently gush over a new gown, a new way of doing her hair or makeup, or by having her flat-out saying: “I was determined to be both pretty and fierce, as Mother said I could be. Just because I was a girl interested in a man's job didn't mean I needed to give up being girly. Who defined those roles anyway?” (Beyond the fact that this entire statement is stuffed with anachronisms ['fierce' as in “grrrrl power” didn't even exist as a concept at this time and neither did 'girly' in this context], the whole thought process just doesn't ring true for this kind of character, considering her upbringing, her class and station. I mean, yes, suffragettes were beginning to come into their own during this period, but typically upper-middle class young ladies were not of their ilk, especially not independent of any other rebellious female role model.) The idea of showing that a girl can be all science-y and girly at the same time is great... when it's done even-handedly. That didn't happen here.
As to the rest, it all seemed to be a case of a great deal of effort for very little result. By that, I mean, the complex and almost overly-convoluted story has Audrey Rose and Thomas dashing hither and thither in their quest to solve the mystery of Jack the Ripper's true identity - the "stalking" part of Stalking Jack the Ripper, one presumes - but the places they visit, the people they see, and the "clues" they gather don't actually seem to add up to anything concrete. Worse still, all their antics only serve to place the two of them in dangerous situations, which only makes them look foolish and irresponsible. Especially since the mystery of the story is so, I'm sorry to say, laughable. It's obvious from the word go who the perpetrator is, so while the twist ending is, indeed, quite gruesome, it's not in the least surprising. What is surprising is just how surprised Audrey Rose is Jack the Ripper's identity. So much for her brilliance.
And don't even get me started on the "romance" between Thomas and Audrey Rose. It's one thing to have two characters who bicker in an affectionate way, their irritation with each other masking a deepening attraction, with perhaps the bickering acting as a manifestation of their confusion over how to handle said attraction. But with Thomas and Audrey Rose, all their awkward back-and-forths are just that, awkward. Not to mention shallow, never seeming to lead to any revelations about themselves or how they feel about each other: every time Audrey Rose snarled and sniped at Thomas, we were treated to her thoughts about him, which consisted of her gushing and blushing over how hawt he was (and, yes, I use the modern vernacular because her thoughts were not those of a Victorian maiden, at all), yet just at the moment she would seem to soften towards him, marking some kind of progress in their "relationship", she'd bristle and get her back up again. No progress was ever made. Then again, it was hard to blame her when Thomas behaved like a complete dick, constantly preening as he smugly told her he knew just how much she wanted to kiss him, that he knew she couldn't resist him, that eventually she would capitulate and fall into his arms, blah blah blah. I get what Maniscalco was trying to suggest with Thomas's egotistic behavior, but it was just too heavy-handed and therefore off-putting.
Basically, the overall impression I had throughout the entire book was of modern characters stuffed into a period setting. While Maniscalco's writing dropped you into the depths of 1880's London - complete with gaslights, horse-drawn carriages, the peculiar miasma which could only belong to the Thames River, and fog-shrouded streets - the characters, most especially Audrey Rose and Thomas, were 21st century creatures through and through. I don't expect modern authors to recreate the language of Dickens, Trollope, or Hardy, but I do expect the characters to be fully of the era in which they live. Maybe the problem stems from Stalking Jack the Ripper being a YA novel. All I know is that I kept waiting for Audrey Rose to whip out a cellphone from her drawstring purse and for Thomas to use his laptop to Google Map their next Jack the Ripper stakeout.
Maniscalco's writing is eloquent, and she started with an intriguing kernel of a story. Sadly, it got away from her, especially at the climax of the story. But Stalking Jack the Ripper is a promising debut novel and it'll be interesting to see what this author produces in future.
Book received from the Amazon Vine Program in exchange for an unbiased review....more
A novel told from the perspective of Katherine of Aragon, stretching from those first heady days when she arrived in England as the bride-to-4.5 stars
A novel told from the perspective of Katherine of Aragon, stretching from those first heady days when she arrived in England as the bride-to-be of Arthur, first-born son of King Henry VII, to her last painful and ignominious hours she spent as the discarded, yet defiant, wife of King Henry VIII.
I must say, the book started off rather slow for me: once the drama of Katherine's marriage to Arthur had passed and she and Henry were married, most of the time was spent wrapped up in Katherine's wedded bliss, which seemed a bit too . . . blissful for a woman, especially a high-ranking woman, of this period. For instance, the first time Henry is unfaithful, Katherine is shocked and hurt by his behavior. Really? Should she be? After all, it's not like love or even affection between royal spouses was the norm, despite the appearance Henry gave of being as in love with Katherine as she was with him. Aristocratic and royal marriages were made for alliances, for power, not for love; adultery, on the man's part, was the accepted norm. So it seemed strange for Katherine, the daughter of Isabella of Aragon, to exist in a cloud of naivety and meekness. But then things start to pick up once the King's Secret Matter, which soon becomes the King's Great Matter, gets exposed and the hurly-burly with Anne Boleyn begins. Then we see the fire of Katherine of Aragon spark to life as she fights for her husband, her marriage, her title, her daughter, and her entire life and future.
This is not an unbiased book, nor should it be. This is a highly personal tale, told completely from one woman's perspective. Such a singular perspective doesn't allow for an unbiased telling. We see the events of this well-known historical period through a single set of eyes, augmented by the opinions of those in her household who are loyal to her, those who fight for her rights against those of Anne Boleyn. Anne Boleyn will get her say in the next book; in this book, she is only the “night crow” or “that woman” or "the Lady." And that's fine. This is not a history book or even a biography. This is historical fiction. Get interested in the history behind the story, but don't get your history from the story, even though this particular story is being told by an historian.
And a good one. Alison Weir thoroughly immerses us in the world of Katherine, her household, her retinues and routines, her high and low fortunes. We are with her every step of the way as she lives through the disappointment of her marriage to Arthur, as she floats through the glorious first years of her marriage to Henry, as she slowly becomes beaten down, small defeat by large, when Henry finds Anne, leaves Katherine, and splits Christendom in two in his quest to satisfy his desire to have a male heir. By the end of the book, it's quite easy for the reader to loathe both Henry and Anne as Katherine suffers repeated bouts of ill health, living in constant fear from the specter of poisoning hanging over both her and her daughter, Mary's, heads. Each illness of Mary's fills the reader with the same pangs of terror as it does Katherine, despite knowing that Mary survives these years of hell, years which imprint on her character indelibly.
However, because we are getting a story from Katherine's perspective, that also means we're getting a Tudor-washed, Ferdinand-washed tale as well, as is to be expected. So, in order for the Tudors to be winners, Richard III has to be the villain. In order for Ferdinand to be ruler of Spain, Juana has to be mad. It's a bit hard to swallow at first, but I had to keep telling myself, history is written by the victors. Henry VII and Ferdinand were the victors; Richard III and Juana were not. Alison Weir does a good job of explaining the choices she made as a writer in her Author's Note, explaining she changed relatively little in attempting to evoke the sights, smells, and textures of a lost age. She also explains how writing the book from Katherine's perspective granted her a different, more intimate psychological perspective on this amazingly scrupulous, lionhearted, and resolute woman, which in turn allows us to better understand why Katherine wouldn't have knuckled under and given in to Henry's demands, for though the idea of Katherine retiring to a convent and becoming his "sister" might seem reasonable to us now, to Katherine, they were utterly repugnant.
Of course, probably the most famous incident in Katherine's life was her first marriage to Arthur and whether or not it was consummated. For what it's worth, I have always been of the opinion that it hadn't been, that Arthur had been too sickly and all his hearty exclamations of “My throat is parched for I have been this night in the midst of Spain!” were just ego-boosting boasts from a young boy who wished to appear masculine in the eyes of his court. While I have no doubt Katherine would've done everything in her power to protect herself and her daughter, her faith was too strong to allow her to lie about something as crucial as consummation....more
Audrey Harte is a murderer. When she was just thirteen, she and her best friend, Maggie, killed Maggie's abusive father. But while Audrey used her punAudrey Harte is a murderer. When she was just thirteen, she and her best friend, Maggie, killed Maggie's abusive father. But while Audrey used her punishment as a way to make herself better, Maggie never did. Now a respected criminal psychologist who uses her unique experience to get into the minds of troubled kids, Audrey returns home to her small Maine hometown after seven years absence... and finds that nothing has changed. Except for the fact, her first night back, Maggie is killed and Audrey becomes suspect number one. Now she must use all her training, not to mention her inside knowledge of how the town of Edgeport, Maine works, to solve Maggie's murder and clear her name, before it's too late.
This is the most raw, realistic, and intimate depiction of fake people I've ever read. Each character was so real, so three-dimensional; nobody was perfect, there were no black-and-white, good-and-evil characters. Each person was damaged in some way, affecting how they did their job, interacted with others, or their personality, making them more like actual human beings than fictional characters. And that includes the setting for the novel: Edgeport, Maine could be an actual small northern (or, for that matter, with just a few changes, southern) small town, complete with busybody neighbors, small-town intrigue, and a faster-than-light gossip mill. The author mentions in the Q&A at the back of the book that she grew up in a town like Edgeport, meaning she was able to perfectly capture all the charms and all the quirks that come along with living in a place so small and insular.
Even more than the character development, the psychological underpinnings to the novel add an extra dimension of truth and realism; Kessler has obviously done her research regarding the issues driving the heart of the novel. Which means none of the actions coming out of these issues feels false or like a cop-out, like it was simply created in order to create tension or drama. Instead, the story flows naturally, understandably, with logical, if sometimes heartbreaking consequences. I suppose I should state that the book comes with a trigger warning for anyone who's suffered childhood trauma or abuse: The story is dark, violent, and gritty, even frightening at times. But so utterly engrossing and enthralling you can't help but be drawn in and keep turning the pages.
Basically, this is the best first novel and best suspense series lead-in I've read in years, and I truly can't wait for the second book to come out!...more
I've seen some people label this book "derivative" and I'm not sure how they're coming to this, unless they haven't read the book and are si3.5 stars
I've seen some people label this book "derivative" and I'm not sure how they're coming to this, unless they haven't read the book and are simply copying the reviews of others. Are there certain plot-points that are similar to other YA novels, especially in the broad-in-scope dystopia genre? Well, yes, of course. Show me any book, in any genre, that doesn't share similar plot-points to another book in the same genre: it's bound to happen. That said, while there are similarities to other YA and YA-dystopian novels - a protagonist who's motherless and/or fatherless, a protagonist who's discovering brand-new powers, a protagonist fighting against an oppressive government and/or pseudo-military organization, and a protagonist dealing with *sigh* a love triangle (I think that's a law for writing a YA novel of any genre) - the storyline itself is quite different to anything else I've ever read. This is definitely not a book that's easy to pin down, genre-wise, and it's definitely not a dull or boring book. It's not full steampunk, but has steampunk elements. It's a surprising mix of action-adventure, sci-fi, fantasy, romance, dystopia, which should be overwhelming, but Hatton manages to make it all work.
Um, sort of work.
[image]
While many of the concepts and characters were unique and quite creative, some of the descriptions and/or the history behind them weren't fully fleshed out, as if even Hatton didn't know what she was trying to say or how she wanted to say it. It was hard to visualize some of what was written because it wasn't fully visualized on the page. I understand the whole "leave it to the reader's imagination!" impulse, which is fine for some things. But when you're describing technical or fantastical or alien creations, please, be more specific.
[image] Can you resist begging kitty? Can you?
Yet, conversely, a great deal of the book seemed to crawl for me, the action either delayed or interrupted because -and this will sound as if I'm being deliberately contrary - the prose was overwritten. There were many parts of the book where scenes could've been removed or compressed in order to make the action go faster and the story tighter.
However, most of the issues I had with the book could all be traced back to the main character, Penelope, aka "Penn," the fifth daughter of Magnus Roma. According to the rules of this world, after the alien Medusae came and sent out the rains which altered some of Earth's children, no family dared to have five daughters. For the first daughter carried the power of fire. The second daughter, water; the third daughter manipulated earth and the fourth, if a family carried on that far, did the near impossible and controlled the very air. But a fifth daughter was unheard of, for the fifth daughter was known as a Celestine, able to call down the stars themselves. No-one had five daughters in the same family. Except Magnus Roma, and he named the fifth one Penelope. So to hide Penelope and her sisters from the Commission, the agency developed to seek out those girls changed by the Medusae, Magnus created The Show, a traveling circus, hiding the girls' talents in plain sight, and "Penn," the boy who Penelope must pretend to be. Penelope hates Penn. And, frankly, at times so did I. (Although Penelope wasn't much better.) Both Penelope and her alter-ego are creatures of impulse, of pure instinct like a wild animal. Instead of listening, of learning, of adapting so that she wouldn't have to rely on instinct, Penn always ran away. Which makes the fact that she manages to survive the entire length of the book shocking, considering how many times she's leapt into a new, unknown situation and trusted that a parachute or safety net would appear. And that makes it problematic for the reader, because every time we're introduced into a situation or to a character which might answer a few of our questions - Why is Penn so important? Who is Magnus Roma? Why does Warden Nye behave the way he does toward Penn? - Penn never stays around to let the characters explain, to let us find out what the hell is going on. Instead, she takes her magical, mechanical, space-and-time leaping coat (like a TARDIS in a leather coat, which is pretty cool, actually) and runs away. Again. And again. And again. It's only when she's sidelined by an injury that she actually stays put and even then it's a close thing - she still tries to run away, making her injury worse, naturally. I wanted to reach into the pages and throttle the little twit. Repeatedly.
As to the required love triangle of the book, while there are two boys working for Penn's attention, the romance itself isn't fully developed. I think there was a kiss or two, but for the most part the "romance" kind of limps along in a very forgettable, unnoticeable way until it suddenly it rears its head, as though the author remembered, “Hey, I'm supposed to have them kissing here, right?”
[image]
That said, out of all this mess, I'd be interested in reading the second book (especially since there wasn't a real finality to the end of this one; the threads of the story were loosely gathered together, but not tied up, giving an obvious lead-in to a sequel, which is kind of annoying but certainly tantalizing). And I do love the originality and creativity Hatton has shown in some of her characters (Birch, one corner of the Penn love triangle [which is never actually a triangle, unless the boys in it start falling for each other, but I digress] who can also manipulate plants), her bio-mechanical creations (the golems Xerxes and Bijou are awesome, I wish I could have one of each for myself), and the lifestyle of the world in reaction to the Medusae's appearance (which has regressed to a sort of Neo-Victorian design in both technology and clothing). Sing Down the Stars is flawed, for sure, but it's also entertaining, with enough promise and potential to be worth a read....more
Marcus never expected to be a duke. He was raised to be a gentleman, but then his father died, and his brother died, and he was next in line to inheriMarcus never expected to be a duke. He was raised to be a gentleman, but then his father died, and his brother died, and he was next in line to inherit the title. (From whence the original title comes, we still don't know – an uncle, perhaps?) So he spends his time in the throes of debauchery, drinking, gambling, wenching, and doing nothing more challenging in his life than balancing a spoon on his nose for longer than anyone else. Naturally, he's bored, so when his illegitimate daughter comes to his door, he suddenly finds a purpose for his life and becomes quite determined to raise his daughter properly. Except to do that the girl needs a governess. So he turns to the recently opened Quality Employment Agency, run “by a group of well-bred ladies” one of which happens to be our heroine, Lily. She decides to answer the summons herself, which thus places her in the home and in the path of this scandalous duke, which she soon finds is a dangerous spot to occupy.
This was a rather strange read for me. I initially thought it was a Regency, which was why I got it, and so I was anticipating something in the vein of Georgette Heyer, if not perhaps as skillfully done. (Probably because of the misleading cover photo: the model is wearing a Regency gown, which would've been woefully out-of-date for the actual setting of the book, 1840; by then, waistlines had fallen slightly, though still not to the natural waistline, skirts were bell-like, and sleeves were quite balloon-y.) As I read, though, I realized that, in many ways, this was simply a modern romance plunked into an early Victorian setting, complete with snarky asides and self-deprecating inner thoughts. Switch out some names and certain articles of clothing, and the story could take place anytime in the last couple of years. At first, this approach was cute and entertaining, but the longer I read, the more it grated, exactly because of this superficiality and flippancy. See, I'm a stickler when it comes to accuracy and research. Work around it, play with it, insert as much snark and sarcasm and flippancy as you like, but be accurate to the time period you're working with, is my thought. A thinking which Megan Frampton didn't share. In addition to those snarky inner monologues and repartee, her characters were breaching etiquette left, right, and center, using the wrong names, eating meals with kids (which was never, ever done – children ate separately in the nursery), barging into rooms without knocking, servants entering by the front door, etc.
At its core, the main problem with the book was its immature writing. Basic grammatical/spelling mistakes aside, the word choices, sentence construction, and general set-up was just so irritatingly puerile in many ways. There's no actual villain in the piece, so the book mostly consists of Lily and Marcus dithering over their feelings for each other: she thinks he's so hawt and he just wants to bone her luscious bod, and we spend oodles of time with their inner monologues concerning their insta-love, monologues which take up the majority of their interactions with each other, even while in the midst of actual conversations with other people. Once they finally dance the horizontal mambo (after a couple of heavy petting scenes which led nowhere except to some major frustration for the duke), there's the obligatory misunderstanding which causes Lily to run away which then leads to the big finale. At which the two of them act quite inappropriately in front of Queen Victoria, something I'm sure would not amuse her one bit. The whole book was, well, rather stupid. There was some entertaining chemistry in the verbal sparring between Marcus and Lily, and Rose was appropriately adorable, but there's nothing of any actual substance to the book once you get past those few details. Is that necessarily a bad thing? No. But it's not necessarily a great thing, either.
In the end, I wouldn't call this brain-damaging fluff, but it's most definitely fluff: a light, frothy meringue that doesn't stick with you once the last page is read....more
This isn’t a profound book. There aren’t any essays full of deep, philosophical musings on how these men’s lives changed once a cat entered into it. NThis isn’t a profound book. There aren’t any essays full of deep, philosophical musings on how these men’s lives changed once a cat entered into it. Nope, it’s simply a warm, sweet, occasionally amusing, often on-the-nose collection of photographs of men who happen to share their lives with a cat (or cats) and accompanying quotes from these men expressing a particular thought or moment from their feline-based existence. I think what's most startling is how no one individual in this book matches the common perception of what a man who owns a cat "should" look like. The men in this book come from all walks of life, come in all ages, from different locations across the country; there are tattooed bikers, bearded hipsters, beardless youths, bald retirees, gay men, straight men, fathers and sons, roommates, loners, and everything in between. The only thing they have in common is that they own (or rather are owned by) a cat. (Trust me, if you’re a fellow feline caretaker, you understand what I’m talking about; if you’ve only ever lived with dogs, unlike those happy-go-lucky and grateful creatures, cats don’t belong to you so much as the other way around, and are quite happy to take advantage of this fact on a regular basis.) Even the level of cat enthusiasm varies: some are still rather reluctant, even somewhat surprised, to find themselves sharing space with a feline; others are quite happy to be known as a crazy cat fellows. It's an interesting, entertaining, amusing look at the other side of pet ownership, whether you're standing on the side as a dog owner or a woman with a cat (or cats). And I'd imagine that if you're a man who's a fellow feline lover, discovering your brotherhood would make for a warm and fuzzy, perhaps even purring, read....more
I came this close to throwing Wink Poppy Midnight at the wall when I finished it. Not because it was awful, but because it was so good, I hated it. ThI came this close to throwing Wink Poppy Midnight at the wall when I finished it. Not because it was awful, but because it was so good, I hated it. This book is unreal. And I don't just mean that it's fictional, which it is. It's so unreal it becomes real and then passes right through the other side of reality again. That's the only way I can describe this confounding, confusing, enrapturing, bewitching, infuriating, stomach-pinching-with-tension novel. Nothing in this book runs straight, just like any good fairy tale, so don't expect the villain to actually be the Villain, but don't expect the villain to be the Hero either. Don't expect anything. Just read. Then recover....more
As we learned in The Accidental Empress (which one must really read in order to understand Sisi's motivations and emotional handicaps, and no4.5 stars
As we learned in The Accidental Empress (which one must really read in order to understand Sisi's motivations and emotional handicaps, and not ignorantly write her off simply as a spoiled horse-lover), Elisabeth was not born to the position of Empress. Her childhood was unbelievably free and unstructured; her parents allowed her and her siblings to run wild, literally, through the Bavarian countryside. She never had to deal with convoluted and constricting rules of etiquette, procedures which dictated her every move from the moment she woke to the moment she went to sleep. So when she married Franz Joseph and became Empress, and found herself trapped by this system of stultifying rules, some of which were so ridiculous as to be unbelievable (there was a top-secret "Imperial Fold" of the napkin, people, that was a guarded state secret passed down orally to only a few living people at a time; that's the kind of detail-oriented, anal-retentive system we're talking about), her response was to run away. So that's what she did, through most of her career as Empress. And when she couldn't run away, she learned to control those few things which hadn't been stripped away from her: her toilette and dress, her exercise regimen, her diet, and her corset, all of which became near-obsessive rituals as the years went on, creating a woman who was more statue than human. But a beautiful statute nonetheless, one that became a favorite of newspapers and photographers, who documented her every look and action, turning her into a fashion icon and her style into the aspiration of thousands of women.
In Sisi: Empress on Her Own we see a woman who has lost some of the fragility of the earlier novel, who has grown strong from her success in helping creating the Austro-Hungrarian dual monarchy, who has found fulfillment in raising her third and final child far away from the stifling Hapsburg court, a child she's almost smothered with her thwarted maternal feelings. And yet this is still a woman who can't figure out how to have a relationship with her two older children, who can't figure out how to navigate the treacherous waters of the Hapsburg's Hofburg Palace without courting controversy or comment, who still hasn't yet come to grips with the enormity of her role as Empress. Pataki brings Sisi to life in all her heartbreaking, confounding, frustrating glory in a portrayal that's both sympathetic and unflinching in showing Sisi's flaws. After all, as Pataki says in her author's note, Sisi inexplicably stayed out of her son's, Crown Prince Rudolf's, life even though he displayed the same sensitive, high-strung temperament as she and would most likely have benefited from a closer relationship. Sisi also refused to intervene in Rudolf's marriage to Princess Stephanie of Belgium, vowing to be unlike her interfering mother-in-law Princess Sophie, even though she knew the marriage would create only unhappiness on both sides. And Sisi never seemed interested in regaining a relationship with her eldest daughter, Gisela, for what reason, as Pataki states, we can't know, but that lack of interest simply adds to the frustration we feel toward Sisi.
One of the interesting aspects of the book was watching the descent into madness, through Sisi's eyes, of King Ludwig of Bavaria, Sisi's cousin. Ludwig was yet another tortured soul, much like Sisi, who threw his country into bankruptcy with his reckless building projects, which were undeniably magnificent (like the remote mountain castle Neuschwanstein) but just as undeniably frivolous, and into scandal with his strangely intimate relationship with the composer Richard Wagner. There is a reason Sisi and King Ludwig II are referred to as the "Fairy Queen" and the "Fairy Tale King" as they both seemed to be slightly not quite of this world, as if they were perhaps changelings left in place of their more mundane copies. After Ludwig's sudden, mysterious death in 1886, Sisi's life seemed to become one, long string of tragedies: her father died in 1888, her son Rudolf died in 1889 in the scandalous murder-suicide with his lover, Mary Vetsera, which became known as the Mayerling Incident after the hunting lodge where they were discovered, her sister died in 1890 along with Sisi's close friend (and rumored lover) Count Andrassy, and her mother died in 1892. Is it any wonder that after Rudolf's death it was rumored that Sisi dressed in black for the remainder of her life?
Pataki's writing is rich, dramatic, lush, confident, and an utter joy to read. As another reviewer pointed out, one finishes this book with a great many "What if?" scenarios running through one's head, a great many questions and a near-sadness over the choices made by and made for Empress Elisabeth of Austria. Sisi: Empress on Her Own is a book that leaves you wondering, pondering, and wanting to know more, and that is the sign of a well-written, well-researched, well-structured book. (Just for comparison, Philippa Gregory's books simply leave me wondering how the hell she got published in the first place, so putting her and Pataki together in the same league is a head-scratcher for me.)...more
Peter Caswell wakes in a silk-sheeted bed in a luxurious flat in London with only a song refrain running through his head to tell him who and where hePeter Caswell wakes in a silk-sheeted bed in a luxurious flat in London with only a song refrain running through his head to tell him who and where he is. You see, Peter is an assassin, the best in the world, thanks to his ability to blend in anywhere, but he never remembers where he goes or who he kills because of the implant in his head and the timed-release chemicals it contains. And that's just the way Peter wants it. The only thing he allows himself is knowing how many kills he's made and that only by the number of Sapporo beer bottles, out of twelve, with labels turned away, a count done in the moments before he reverts.
And so begins one of the most twisty-turning, heart-pounding, thought-provoking books I've read in quite some time. It would be easy to describe this book as a spy thriller wrapped up in science fiction. Easy, but probably not quite accurate, not to mention too simplistic for such a complex tale. Having never read any of Jason Hough's other works, I don't know if Zero World is characteristic for him or a story that shows him growing as an author, but I will say that what I read left me mightily impressed. It would be quite easy, with such a complex and fast-paced story, for authors to skimp on certain things such as character development or world building, but that's not the case here. In fact, I was completely blown away by how much thought Hough put into creating the parallel Earth on which most of the story takes place. The differences between our two worlds are often quite simple, yet at the same time truly innovative. (Such as opening a door: here we turn a doorknob; on the alternate Earth, a door opens by way of a foot latch. So simple, yet I dare say no-one would've thought of it had the question been posed. I know I wouldn't have. Or expressing appreciation: here we simply say “Thanks” whereas alt. Earth uses “Gratitude.” A subtle, yet powerful difference.*) Yet, those differences are never outlandish or thoughtless or untrue to the story; they feel completely organic to the culture Hough has created. Even the names of the characters populating the alternate Earth are a degree or two away from familiarity for us, yet a natural extension of alt. Earth's evolution. But what makes this world-building so amazing was how deftly Hough managed to insert so much backstory and so many details without any of it ever becoming overbearing or an info-dump. As a writer, I'm in awe. And I also kind of hate him. Just a little bit.
The storyline is told from the perspectives of both Peter Caswell and his alt-Earth counterpart, Melni, which is another way Hough gives us a greater view of the world(s) he's created. The thing is, as developed as Peter is, Hough didn't skimp on Melni's development to achieve that. Melni is just as fierce and dedicated to her mission as Peter is to hers and as the story progresses it peels away the layers of her character allowing us to find out what drives her, what scares her, what makes her Melni. Which is awesome. It's so refreshing to find a female co-protagonist who is neither a fainting wimp nor an aggro female who probably started out as male. Yes, Melni can be vulnerable and, yes, she can be hard-ass, but she never loses her humanity or her femininity. Even his secondary characters have a depth to them that gives the impression that, if Hough were asked to, could step up and become the center of the story without difficulty.
Then we get to the story itself, set sometime in the future, which is . . . complicated. I mean, you start out with an enhanced super-secret spy-assassin, then progress to space travel, wormhole travel, an alternate Earth, and one heck of a conspiracy that sets everything Peter ever knew or believed in on its ear, and you've got a story that can't be easily condensed into a short summary. At least not without giving a misleading impression of what you'll be reading or giving away any number of spoilers. For all its complexity and genre-bending subject matter, not to mention its hefty appearance, Zero World is a fast and engrossing read, sucking you in from page one and only reluctantly letting you go. It's one of those books that will keep you up at night, making you want to know what happens next and then what happens after that. Not to mention you get a bonus novella, The Dire Earth, at the end, allowing you to keep the adventure going when the main novels ends.
So, really, all I can say is if you like books of a sci-fi, spy-thriller, futuristic, alternate Earth, dystopic, action-adventure, military leaning (and who doesn't?), with just a dash of romance thrown in for good measure, I'd strongly suggest you pick up Zero World right this minute. And prepare to have your mind blown.
*About the only weakness comes from the main curse word Hough created. Where we say fucking, alt. Earth uses blixxing. Now, having gone through the arduous process of creating an adequately vivid and powerful curse word myself, I can appreciate what Hough went through to create blixxing and for that I can't fault him. But whereas fuck represents a clear, Anglo-Saxon directness, it's hard to imagine the linguistic path of blix (or is it blixx? I can't remember). I'm sure I'm in the minority with this kind of struggle and I fully acknowledge I am a linguistics geek, making this a petty quibble, but considering this was the only thing out of the entire book that gave me pause . . . that's pretty blixxing good!
I received an ARC through the Amazon Vine program in exchange for an honest review....more
With this exhaustively researched tome, Judith Flanders has managed to plop the reader down in pre-Victorian London (despite what the title says; the With this exhaustively researched tome, Judith Flanders has managed to plop the reader down in pre-Victorian London (despite what the title says; the author explains the discrepancy in her author's note) and give them a front-row seat to all the changes that occurred to that marvelous metropolis during the period in which Charles Dickens lived and wrote. Changes Dickens witnessed firsthand as he roamed the streets, memorizing every cobblestone, every inch of macadam, every plank of wood and concrete paver in his path. The man was famous for his intimate knowledge of the roads beneath his boots: It was said you could set him down on any corner in London and he could tell you the exact location using the encyclopedia of smells, sounds, and textures he'd gathered through his daily walks. Using not just his life but excerpts of his works, Flanders presents to us the city Dickens loved and lived in as well as the city as he hoped it could be.
Much like Ancient Rome, Londoners of this period spent most of their time outside the home either from desire or necessity, doing their cooking, eating, washing, working, playing, and even dying on the variously paved streets of the city. With the two-pronged approach of showing us London through Dickens' reality and his fiction, we are exposed to the cruel dichotomy created by the cheek-by-jowl nature of businessmen walking to work on streets on which prostitutes plied their trade; indigent or immigrant children playing games on streets strewn with mounds of horse droppings, raw sewage, even the bodies of dead animals; grand, stately townhomes surrounding quiet squares lined with trees and gardens sitting at the back of overcrowded, underfunded slums and tenements where the residents lived, worked, and died crowded by the dozens into shoebox-sized rooms.
I visited London back in 1997 and didn't spend nearly enough time there--I certainly didn't see all I wished to see. Reading The Victorian City makes me wish I had the ability to travel back to London and walk the streets Dickens knew. Since that's unlikely, the vivid sights, sounds, and smells Flanders presents in her book will have to suffice. If you're a Dickens fan or a fan of British or socioeconomic history, or simply a fan of a well-written, finely composed work of non-fiction, then this is the book you need to read....more
With Queen of the Dark Things, C. Robert Cargill returns to the dark, consequence-filled world he created in Dreams and Shadows. This time around, hisWith Queen of the Dark Things, C. Robert Cargill returns to the dark, consequence-filled world he created in Dreams and Shadows. This time around, his modern fairytale comes wrapped in the mythology of the Australian aboriginal people, creating a more philosophical and, if possible, even darker story than his previous book as the themes of life, death, and the afterlife are explored.
I was actually rather surprised when I saw this book, as I'd read the first one with the understanding that it was a stand-alone novel. So with my surprise came the tiniest bit of dread. After all, Cargill's debut, Dreams & Shadows, was so dark and twisted and unique--would any kind of follow-up be able to match the level of creativity he'd created, let alone surpass it? Well, in my highly personal opinion, I feel I can say: Yes, yes it can.
Our story begins on a island somewhere in the Indian Sea in the year 1629, where the remnants of the shipwrecked Batavia have created a gallows for the small company of sailors, led by one Jeronimus Cornelisz, who mutinied. Handless and lifeless, these mutineers return as ghosts to seek vengeance on their fellow conspirators, the ones who survived the gallows by turning on their mates. No matter how long it takes. From there we return to the present, to Austin, TX and to Colby. It's been a few months since the showdown at the end of Dreams & Shadows and he's still mourning the loss of pretty much everything, especially his best friend, Ewan. This grief takes the form of severe self-recrimination and self-destruction. But Colby won't be allowed to spiral down: his actions have made him famous (or infamous, depending on who you ask) and brought a lot of people out of the woodwork. Including some very dangerous enemies looking to settle a score. Into this dark and treacherous world is thrown Kaycee, a young girl from Australia, who is the yang to Colby's yin and has some very special abilities of her own. They're drawn together, and with the aid of the djinn Yashar, the Clever Man Mandu, Gossamer the talking golden retriever, and others--not all of them willing allies--attempt to hold back the evil threatening to spill out of the land of dreams and into our world.
From demons and djinn, to ghosts and fairies and the personification of Austin in the form of a woman, Cargill somehow manages to throw together disparate mythologies and cultures into a story that is cinematic in scope (no surprise, really, considering he's a screenwriter) yet still intimate enough to make the reader involved in the characters' lives and emotional journey. As with his previous book, Cargill also intersperses chapters from scholarly works, in this case works by a "Dr. Thaddeus Ray, Ph.D." concerning the history and significance of the Aboriginal concept of Dreamwalking and the role of the Clever Men who straddle the line between our world and the Dreamtime, along with other "references" which tie into and deepen both the chapters that follow these side excursions as well as the story as a whole. The intertwining of these "scholastic" works grounds the story and adds an element of realism, setting Cargill's work apart from most Urban Fantasy. And I say that as a lover of UF. But whereas most UF is set in our world, is meant to be our world with the same set of rules just slightly tweaked by the addition of vampires, werewolves, elves, whathaveyou, you understand that none of it could ever happen. Cargill's storytelling, however, leaves a small nugget of doubt in your mind telling you that, should you turn the wrong corner at just the right time, in the right city, you might just run into something straight out of your worst nightmare....more
“Compulsively readable.” You see that quite frequently in front cover (or back cover, whichever) blurbs, but what exactly does that mean? And can it r“Compulsively readable.” You see that quite frequently in front cover (or back cover, whichever) blurbs, but what exactly does that mean? And can it really apply to so many books? Well, I can't answer for the second question, but as to the first, I would say the phrase describes something that can't be put down; a book that one keeps reading well into the wee hours of the night, perhaps even until the first rays of dawn peek through the windows. If the “compulsively readable” phrase gets tossed around too much until it loses some of its punch, in the case of Harold Schechter's The Mad Sculptor it is thoroughly deserved and 100% true.
And yet...
After a while, the story begins to slow down, especially when it comes to the detailing of Robet Irwin's, The Mad Sculptor himself, many stints in mental institutions and his movements in between those stints. The whole thing becomes so tedious after a while, you begin to wonder exactly what kind of story Schechter is trying to tell. Especially when he includes the stories behind the many murders that occurred in the same Beekman Place neighborhood as where Irwin killed Veronica Gedeon. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed those side excursions, but to me all it did was muddle the direction of the book. When I reached the end, I wondered what exactly was the point. If Schechter wanted to explore the strange history of Beekman Place and why so many murders occurred in such a short period of time in the early part of the 20th century--was the neighborhood cursed? Did it have anything to do with the deprivations of the Great Depression? etc.--which I would've found interesting, then why focus so much on Irwin? If Schechter wanted to explore the psychopathy of Irwin, why did he peel off so many times to focus on those other murders, in which Irwin wasn't involved? It just came off as messy and uneven. Which is strange because I've read several of Schechter's other true crime books and have always found him to be both informative and entertaining, with a very readable narrative. Certainly nothing like what I encountered in The Mad Sculptor....more
This is the first work by Sarah Pinborough I've read and while I can't say I hated the book, when I finished it I was left feeling as though 2.5 stars
This is the first work by Sarah Pinborough I've read and while I can't say I hated the book, when I finished it I was left feeling as though something was missing from the story. It felt, I don't know, lightweight, and I'm not sure why. After all, it was well-researched (from what I could tell) and atmospheric, with a compelling story. Also a unique one. After all, how many out there, aside from hardcore Ripperologists, have heard of the Torso Killer who went on his murderous spree at the same time as Jack? Not me. Granted, I'm not unfamiliar with Jack the Ripper and have spent my fair share of time researching the case and formulating my own theories, but I'd still consider myself far from being a true Ripperologist, so hearing about a second, equally depraved serial killer terrorizing London alongside Jack piqued my curiosity to no end.
I think part, or actually most of the problem, was that the book felt as though it didn't really know what it was trying to be or how it wanted to tell the story. Divided into three parts, part one started out as a pretty straightforward historical thriller/mystery, detailing the initial search for this Torso Killer. Though the multiple P.O.V.s were distracting, the overall tone was one I liked, sort of a Victorian England CSI. The only issue I had with this section is that the story seemed a bit too reminiscent of the movie From Hell, as Pinborough wrote her main character as also being an opium addict. Then part two begins and suddenly a supernatural element, which had been introduced earlier in the form of a refugee from Eastern Europe who has visions of evil things to come, takes over and alters the tone of the story. Not only that, but that supernatural thread never feels quite right, like a skin of oil resting on top of a glass of water: it's there, but it doesn't mix in. In part three, the author is trying to tie everything together and wind the story up, and as a result things seems to drag on just a bit too long until all of a sudden, we're at the finale of the book and... it's just over with. It came off as being anticlimactic: there was a fight with the villain that was over and done with quite quickly, and the whole situation just tied itself up all neat and pretty. I didn't feel satisfied with how things worked out, like the payoff just wasn't great enough for all the trauma the characters went through up to that point. There was also supposed to be a twist, but once you put the pieces together, you could see that "twist" coming from a mile away. It didn't help that the story's multiple P.O.V.s, which can sometimes be a tricky proposition, made it quite difficult to settle into the story: as soon as I was drawn into following the story from one character's perspective, the chapter ended and another voice took over.
Which is a real shame because, at its heart, Mayhem is a well-written book. Let down by the occasional spelling mistake, some odd grammar choices, and other style quirks, sadly, leading me to feel not entirely pleased with the novel. And while the subject matter itself was compelling enough to keep me reading, I wish Pinborough had stuck to using a strictly psychological thriller angle to explore the mystery of the Torso Killer....more
Lolly's Library
>
Books:
amazon-vine
(74)
Loading...
