I'm pretty sure this book is going to be one of my favourite reads of 2020. It is marvelously fun!
I actually only meant to peruse the first couple of I'm pretty sure this book is going to be one of my favourite reads of 2020. It is marvelously fun!
I actually only meant to peruse the first couple of chapters; 'books about books' is my theme for my book club picks, and I wanted to see how heavily The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep referenced other literature.
So much for my intentions!
Charley Sutherland has spent his life (often accidentally) pulling fictional characters out of their works and into the real world. Rob Sutherland has spent his life begrudgingly helping his younger brother put those characters back where they belong, and trying to keep the world from finding out about Charley's odd ability. Now, the brothers have discovered that someone else has the same skill, and not only is this mysteriously reader leaving a fictional mess in their wake, they seem to have some villainous plans in the works...
Holy doodle this was wonderful! I am in love with Jasper Fforde's books, which all kind of hinge on the idea that you can maybe read yourself into a book. The inverse idea – that you just might be able to bring your most favourite things out of literature and into your living room for tea – is equally fantastic.
The clear praise of reading, the obvious love of Story present in this work would have been enough to delight me. I've oodles of notes in my ebook that are just me fangirling Parry's love-letter to literature.
But on top of that, the Urban Fantasy blend of Wellington, New Zealand, and the Victoriana that comes spilling out of the fictional world is seamlessly whimsical; magical, even.
Annnnd on top of all that, there is this underlying reflection on brotherly love, family, displacement and belonging that is hugely relatable and heartwarming in its progression. This is a deeper experience than it first appears.
Now me – I really liked this book. A bunch. It seemed to speak directly to my own specific sense of wonder, and the same melody of this Ode to Reading has been soundtracking my own book love for years. My reaction to The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep is quite personal, is what I'm saying. I can totally see how it might not be the same for everyone (though I'd definitely suggest they give it a try!) There were one or two hiccups along the way, and it is possible that the pace might feel slow for those not digging the vibe as much as I was.
But me, I was caught right up. I enjoyed every minute. ...more
I'm way behind in my reviews, but I was positive I posted this once already. Or not, I guess!
I've self-imposed a theme for my choices in the book club I'm way behind in my reviews, but I was positive I posted this once already. Or not, I guess!
I've self-imposed a theme for my choices in the book club I belong to. For me to choose one book, without any guidance and very few restrictions? Out of ALL the books? Bah! Impossible. So I gave myself a theme (a broad theme) and the theme was 'Books about Books'. Library of the Unwritten was my November 2019 pick.
There is just something about Books about Books that seems...I don't know...extra magical to me, no matter what genre they fall into. Library of the Unwritten – in theory, at least – checks all of my happy boxes: a library that houses all of the unwritten stories – living ideas that were never manifested – housed and full of created power in Hell; Stories so anxious to be told that they try (and sometimes succeed) to manifest themselves; An endless, ever-changing library with a resourceful librarian and a spunky assistant; A quest through Heaven, Earth and multiple Afterlives? All of it sounds like an intriguing heap of fun!
It was. Tons of fun. Librarian Claire – fiercely protective of the books (and beings) under her care and taking her responsibilities very seriously – must journey with a hapless young demon, her Muse assistant and an errant manifest Hero to retrieve and protect a mysteriously powerful piece of writing. Standing in her way are angels of Heaven, scheming denizens of Hell, and all of the baggage that she herself carries.
I honestly loved all of the individual elements of this book, but less so the way it all came together. Everything seemed so condensed, and it left me with so many questions.
In the first part of the story, for example, we meet Claire – a human soul who has chosen as her punishment in Hell to work in the titular Library. We meet her assistant Verity, who was fired from her function as a Muse and is making a new start in the Library. And we meet Leto, the young messenger demon with spotty memories who, after bringing notice from Satan that an Unwritten Character has gotten free of its book and escaped to Earth, gets caught up in the resulting hunt.
As a reader, I could have spent a full novel meeting these three dynamic characters, learning about the Library and Hell, and going along on this initial task to find and recover Hero, the escapee, ideally before the Unwritten character can track down his author on Earth. Instead, we are hurriedly propelled into the rest of the underwhelming plot, and whisked into a tornado of new characters and multiple settings, all of which could have benefited so much from some space to breathe and be developed themselves.
This is meant to be half criticism, half praise. Indeed, wanting to spend more time in an author's creation is obviously a compliment! But having covered so much ground with such epic repercussions, I find myself wondering if Hackwith has left themself any place to go. I suppose I look forward to finding out....more
“To set things in their proper light, I must first say something about myself and my situation.”
If I were writing this review in the manner of t
“To set things in their proper light, I must first say something about myself and my situation.”
If I were writing this review in the manner of the novel itself, I'd tell you a bit about my birth, my gently wonderful parents, my siblings. I'd describe my education, and perhaps tell you the life story of my most influential teacher. I'd certainly mention my physical struggles and temperament in detail, so you'd understand my state as I read. I'd tell you all about my reading life, my bibliophilic loves and hates – and about the histories of my most bookish comrades. I'd tell you about the nemesis that made reading this detailed confession story so frustrating, and about my plans to revenge myself against said nemesis. (Who was probably mostly my own self, though I'll never fully see it.)
It would be a good review. But gawddammit it would take two hours to read and use absolutely every character in the allowed word count. Every single one of those words would be relevant, but you'd have to work to find out if they are essential. And it would all boil down to this:
This book was probably better than I thought it was. Certainly, it was full of amazing detail. It was easier to put down than pick up, though. It is almost certainly more my fault, than Cox's. There's a sequel, and I'd like to read it. If I can't get to it before Night gets blurry in my rearview, though, then I'm reminding myself right here that, my own fault or no, this felt tedious and there are scads of unread books out there.
“And so I began to reel him in, just as I had done with Mr Tredgold. It was the bibliophilic temperament, you see; its possessors constitute a kind of freemasonry, ever disposed to treat those blessed with a similar passion for books as if they were blood brothers.” ...more
A reread, because I had forgotten absolutely everything about it. At some point I acquired the second book in the series and have yet to read it, so..A reread, because I had forgotten absolutely everything about it. At some point I acquired the second book in the series and have yet to read it, so...
A Grail story, at heart, set in two time periods – modern(ish) day and the early 1200's during the Albigensian Crusade. (This was interesting to me, having recently read A Booke of Days, which is set during the First Crusade. It's handy to be adding to the same framework. The author notes that the Albigensian Crusade is the first where Christians were actively targeting other Christians, and also the first whose goals were focused in European lands. Like many of the preceding crusades there is much evidence that, although cloaked with theological ideals, the actual motivations were highly political and territorial.)
I've seen a handful of comparisons between Labyrinth and Dan Brown books and....I guess. Labyrinth has secret societies and questionable religious motivations. It has relics and symbols and a wee bit of romance. But Labyrinth doesn't feel like Dan Brown to me, despite the topical similarities.
Kate Mosse, for starters, is a far better writer – though not always a more interesting one. There are no formulaic gimmicks in Labyrinth so its got a bit more literary heft. The historical detail seems genuine and deliberate and informed. The downside here is that Mosse is often overly descriptive; in history, in conversation, in actions, in emotions...in everything. Many paragraphs feel like a statement of a thing followed by an elaborate restatement of the exact same thing. This would have some charm in moderation, but really bogs down the experience as the main method of writing.
There is a supernatural or mystical thread running through the heart of the story that goes beyond the base Grail mythology and I am not sure it was entirely justified. Our two protagonists share a bloodline, and modern-day Alice gains some of her insight from dream memories and never-explained intuition. It felt as this was ultimately a device used to hasten exposition and draw character parallels. It was muddy and removed opportunity to liven up the modern story-line with actual research and puzzle solving.
There was a disparity of quality between the two time lines. The author is clearly in love with (and well-versed in) the history. The plotting, the immersive setting and the characterization are all far richer when we are with Alais in the 1200's.
A mixed bag, really. I like it, but for its breadth and sometimes overreaching detail, I can see why it didn't stick with me the first time I read it. Even if the second book knocks my socks off, I should just remind my future self that this one is probably not worth a third slog-through....more
The Long Earth is open. Humanity now spreads across untold worlds linked by fleets of airships encouraging exploration, trade andFrom the book jacket:
The Long Earth is open. Humanity now spreads across untold worlds linked by fleets of airships encouraging exploration, trade and culture.
The Long War is certainly a continuance of exploration – a long reaching tour pointing out just a few of the highlights of possibility in this enormous landscape of maybes. The plot(s) in this second book of the series focus on the American claim of governance across all the Stepwise “Americas”, and the resistance from the spread-out inhabitants who question the benefit and rights of such a set up. We also follow Joshua, Monica and Sally as they try to avert a fallout with the sweet harmless Trolls, who quite simply want to avoid being mistreated and enslaved.
There continues to be so many 'what-ifs' about this series, and I love the mental exercise.
One thing I noticed they haven't much touched on (perhaps wisely, though I myself would love to hear it) is religion. In my own imaginings from their base supposition, I envision how interesting everything gets when there is a holy land for everyone, when there can be an entire planet of only like-faithed people or political ideals. It would only add support for the conflict in The Long War; the tendency for ideologies to subjugate, fix, convert and ultimately assert power and control.
I get the impression that The Long War is at heart a commentary on humanity's battle to be better than these basic impulses – the central idea that our superiority is all encompassing and inviolate. And as always (at least with Pratchett) I find the observations wry and astute. The overall faith in goodness is impossibly optimistic but endearingly, innocently charming. (There is an extended exchange in Chapter 60 that encapsulates what I think is the summation of Pratchett and Baxter's vision of eventual hopefulness, but it makes more sense to come across it organically, so I won't lay it out here. Also it's long and I'm lazy.)
The threads in The Long War do weave into more of a plot than in The Long Earth. The “war” that they speak of never quite occurs, with many of the main characters doing their part to prevent it, at least in the most tangible sense. The story is far from over, though....more
This was actually a fairly good book. I quite enjoy when authors come at genre writing from novel directions and Ghosts in the Snow is a procedural myThis was actually a fairly good book. I quite enjoy when authors come at genre writing from novel directions and Ghosts in the Snow is a procedural mystery unfolding in a fantasy setting with heavy elements of thriller peppered in. While reading, I was continually surprised at how caught up I was, and moved quickly past the frustrations that made me pause.
On reflection these hiccups become more visible. This is the sort of work where analyzing becomes double-edged. It highlights strengths for certain, but makes the possible shortcomings appear more over-shadowing.
I think ultimately the strengths and detractors come from the same place; the writing feels idealistically fresh and therefore also inexperienced. Fresh in the sense that it is committed to its approach, but green because it leans so heavily on its ideals that it becomes inflexible at best and stereotypical at worst.
Jones commits hard to an “exposition through experience” approach. We hear only what the characters themselves take part in, remember, think and talk about. This show-not-tell technique has its benefits, and Jones is carefully meticulous in maintaining it. The drawbacks can be annoying, though, in regards to both setting and character. Without a framework, the information we get about this speculative world has no clear place to hang and connect. Things start to feel vague and confusing.
The same goes for our characters. I love that none of the players in this novel are clean-slate; they are already all in the middle of their own personal stories. It makes them truly dynamic. On the flip side, however, we also have to assemble them in our own minds as we go along. This is fun until it too gets confusing, especially when we only have patchy ideas about the world in which they live.
There is a bit of idealistic stereotyping in the characters, too, and this made a couple of them (Risley and Nella, for me) actively annoying.
When I start bundling all of these things together, I too easily start doubting my original assessment of the book.
But here's the thing: it still worked for me. I liked it. My hope is that as Jones settles into this series and her characters become more organically themselves that the kinks will smooth out and the books will grow their own merit.
This is the first book in a series. It is complete within itself, like a standard mystery novel, but it looks as though there are more to come. I will keep an eye out for them, but I wont go hunting hard. ...more
I made a go of this when Tray first gifted it to me some time post 2012. I'm not positive I made it all the way through – the envelope I was using as I made a go of this when Tray first gifted it to me some time post 2012. I'm not positive I made it all the way through – the envelope I was using as a bookmark (with “MISH MASH” in kidscrawl across it <3) suggests I did not. I honestly have no active recollection of even reading it back then...which is ultimately why I make these notes about my reading. My poor holey brain leaks like a sieve,
This time around I was totally caught up. I really enjoyed this book.
The Long Earth is big in its ideas, and thought provoking. It is, in fact, primarily idea driven. This is perfectly ok with me. I love what-iffing and this story really takes the time to explore multiple facets of its main premise: one day plans for a potato powered box appear on the internet. Easy to construct, the completed mechanism allows its maker to 'step' sideways into an alternative earth, which can also then be stepped sideways from...to, theoretically, an infinite number of progressive iterations of our planet. The alternate Earths appear much the same, though they seem to be the results of some differing geological or evolutionary happening. And though potentially infinite, they seem to be devoid of humanoid life.
Another reviewer called this a road-trip story, and that works. Joshua, a Natural Stepper (who doesn't need the box) and Lobsang, a once-human-but-now-AI, set off in a highly technical floating dirigible to explore the multiple earths as far out as they can. Exploration and adventure is the gig, and an actual plot is very slow to reveal itself.
A tale of science versus spiritualism, set in the early 1900's. Dr. August Perlman is a pioneering practitioner of 'suggestive therapy': using habits A tale of science versus spiritualism, set in the early 1900's. Dr. August Perlman is a pioneering practitioner of 'suggestive therapy': using habits and associations with the aid of hypnotism to help patients take control of ailments and pain. He is not sure if he will be able to help Sophie, a severely dehydrated adolescent brought unconscious to his clinic. Early attempts to rouse her are unsuccessful, but some suggestions to her subconscious finally settle her down. It is not Sophie who awakens however, but Nina, who has brought along an imaginary friend; and they have a story to tell.
There are a lot of aspects to this story that appeal: Perlman is a complex character, with his atheism and his vices and his passionate devotion to musical experience. His new high-society acquaintance Madame Barrett is equally intriguing: she is assured and enigmatic, the sister of a deceased composer, a spiritualist with grief and gently scandalous suggestions in her past. The ruminations on music alone are deep and rambling, but there are many under-running threads of commentary too.
All of these interesting factors – presented with a solidly comfortable writing style – should make for a satisfying experience...but it doesn't quite get there. Something about cohesion, I think, and perhaps some confusing descriptions. The bits just don't stick together properly.
I was noticeably not engaged. I was still passively entertained, though. ...more
A journal kept by Duke Roger of Lunel, during his journey of the First Crusade. In 1096, Roger left his estate in Lunel, France to join with the ProveA journal kept by Duke Roger of Lunel, during his journey of the First Crusade. In 1096, Roger left his estate in Lunel, France to join with the Provencal army under Raymond of Gilles. The entries span the three years of the conquest, and follow the march through Italy, Byzantium and the Middle East to the ultimate goal of Jerusalem, and finally ends back in France. The entire novel is contained within the journal, aside from a brief pre- and post- script from the author, as well as some footnotes tossed in for historical clarification.
This has been languishing in my collection for many years. I get a bit apprehensive of historical fiction, assuming I will grow detail-glazed and skimmy by the time I reach the halfway point. A Booke of Days totally held my interest throughout, though. It is a well crafted blend of the larger (Crusade) journey and the personal journey of Sir Roger. It is a stark imagining of the conquest, giving an up-close view of violence, politics and religious fervor. Roger reveals the inner demons that prompted his own devotion to the quest, and we travel with him through his hopes, his questionings, his guilt, his theological insights and his defeats.
The whole thing is surprisingly engaging and obviously well researched. As a story on its own, I was well pleased with it, and learned much as I read. I totally empathized with Roger's flawed personal evolution. He was any easy character to become attached to.
If I think too hard on things, I begin to question how likely a character of Roger's enlightenment really would be at that time. And also I wonder : who actually records full conversations in their journal, word-for-word-like? Anyone actually?...but these are ultimately just fun thought exercises, in this case, and not detractors.
Well written and perfectly balanced. Good read....more
On balance, I find more to nitpick at with the Rebus books than I do to praise.
I don't actually mind that the main character is hard to like. His flaw On balance, I find more to nitpick at with the Rebus books than I do to praise.
I don't actually mind that the main character is hard to like. His flaws make him more realistic, and I do get so tired of those leads whose weaknesses ultimately are either insignificant or so obviously tailored specifically for redemption. Rebus' flaws are significant and impactive. Unfortunately they are also eminently stock: failed marriage, awkward fatherhood, unsuccessful substance avoidance, authority issues, lone wolf, skirt chaser, career dissatisfaction, etc etc. There has been, in the reading, some eye rolling.
I have bigger issues with the finer details, though. In Tooth and Nail, the inspector is sent on loan to consult on a serial murder case in London. Annoyingly, we are never really told a believable reason why. The thought that London cannot scrounge up its own murder inspector is ludicrous.
The murders themselves are intriguing enough on the surface, but the unfolding of the motive is clumsily done. It ends up feeling like a made-to-order mystery template, one which is occasionally engaging enough to make the disappointments far more noticeable.
I loved the bits where Rebus credits the huge team of people who put in hours on murder investigations. Despite this, though, he uses very little of their contribution in solving the case. All of that work ends up being nearly useless, but Rebus' “hunch” (a contrived, huge leap of a hunch) ends up making the whole team extraneous. (Meh).
Rebus' (or perhaps Rankin's) treatment of women as either 'Ugly and Adversarial' or 'so beautiful that their obvious intelligence is eclipsed by the hem of their skirt' is – yup – still irritating. The blind spots created by this shining beauty are so predictable that the representation of masculinity becomes, if not childish than at least adolescent.
I want to describe this all as just “so very arrrrg”, or as the result of Rankin's personal challenge to fit as many procedural tropes as he could into one story. I want to be angry at it, or maybe tired of it.
But
I like Rankin's skill, all the same. I actually like this book (marginally) more than the first two, and I feel like maybe three things are happening here: Rebus is settling into himself; Rankin is settling into Rebus and has reached the point where his character's voice is becoming its own entity and less a collection of isms; and I am settling into all of these things and am actually a bit curious as to how it might all continue to evolve....more
A deliberate and studied madness. Most certainly an awesome addition to my collection of reading experiences.
No student of history, I – nor particularA deliberate and studied madness. Most certainly an awesome addition to my collection of reading experiences.
No student of history, I – nor particularly learned in the extremes of political ideologies past and present. I claim no religious affiliation and am absolutely no celebrated (or censored) artist. I feel remarkably unqualified to give an in-depth review of this work, especially in light of all of the conversation that (quite helpfully) surrounds it.
Even approaching it from an entertainment point of view, one still cannot fail to recognize the satire and commentary in the 3-strand narrative. I found, for my own self, that the story became increasingly enjoyable the deeper I looked into it, so I'm not sure I would recommend it to a reader who finds that approach tiresome. Without it, the absurdist sections become over the top, the love story becomes high melodrama, the Pilate sections become long, and the shift between the three feels too discordant.
With willingness though, the Master and Margarita becomes slapstick funny, deeply insightful and quite thought provoking. I think it was crafted so earnestly and carefully, and is well worth reading for anyone wanting an affecting experience. One of the more unique reads that I have encountered, and one that deserves revisiting multiple times.
(As an aside to my own self, a number of reviews suggest that other translations may be superior to this one. Hunt one down before your next reread)...more
Read in April 2019, just pokey getting my review up..
Jumping into the second book of a series immediately after the end of the first is immensely satiRead in April 2019, just pokey getting my review up..
Jumping into the second book of a series immediately after the end of the first is immensely satisfying, but it makes it difficult to keep them from blending into one big story.
I love the solid mix of Urban Fantasy and Detective Fiction going on here...UF tends take over pretty quickly, generally speaking, and I love that in Aaronovitch's series it doesn't overshadow the police procedural going on around it. That being said, I wouldn't have minded a bit more about Grant's learning and training. I love his inquisitive spirit and the scientific mind that pushes him to question and experiment; I'd enjoy hearing more about it. I'm glad to know that there is a framework of magicians and magician support – if tattered by the war – that is in place outside of London proper. I do hope that side of things gets a bit of attention.
The jazzy motif of the crimes was fun. I enjoyed the tie-in to Lord Grant and was really glad that Aaronovitch built both the character and Peter's relationship with his father as complex, layered. It didn't just focus on Peter's bitter anger with his junkie parent.
There were some finishings that felt too neat. The resolution of Lord Grant's dependency issues seemed so simplistically easy and almost minimized. Peter's willingness to dismiss Simone's and her sister's wrong doing without investigation seemed decidedly un-copperlike. (And this last point combined with the next highlights the less agreeable bits of Peter's personality.)
I was also frustrated at the long stretches we went without even a thought of Lesley. From a friendship perspective I thought she deserved better.
I did quite like the ethics discussions between Nightingale and Grant. I'm enjoying the development of Dr Walid, Mrs Grant and Stephanopoulos. I love the the London-ness of the story; the quirks and isms and actual geography I'm learning about. And I adore the dry humour, wielded with perfect timing.
My quibbles don't take away from my solid enjoyment of the series and I am glad that there is more of it for me to get to, though this second installment wasn't quite as engaging as the first. ...more
Great fun. An entertaining introduction to a must-follow series that hits all the right spots.
Although I didn't fall quite as head-over-heels as I thoGreat fun. An entertaining introduction to a must-follow series that hits all the right spots.
Although I didn't fall quite as head-over-heels as I thought I might (given all the reviews and comparisons I've seen), I was delighted by this Urban Fantasy meets London Copper Mystery.
I'm a little concerned that the version I read Americanized more than the title. It certainly contained a handful of editing errors that were grating. There was an unfortunate sexist undertone – mild enough to be mostly unobtrusive – and what felt like an occasional stuttering in detail exposition. Beyond those though, I have no complaints.
I love the dry humour and the melding of genres, and am jumping into the next book straight away. ...more
The home invasion schtick always lets me down. I think the confines of the setting limits the possibilities, so it tends to seem like I've “heard this The home invasion schtick always lets me down. I think the confines of the setting limits the possibilities, so it tends to seem like I've “heard this one before.” While there are some unique features in The Cabin at the End of the World, I still set it down with a vague sense of disappointment.
A shame, though. The opening is phenomenal. We meet little Wen catching grasshoppers in front of the remote cabin her dads have rented for the summer. We hang out with her, and in the process learn about her adoption and her cleft pallet surgeries. We meet her impressions of her two adoptive fathers. It is a solid (if a bit protracted) stretch of character building, and it works. When the stranger Leonard comes jogging up the dirt drive and hunkers down to introduce himself, we are intrigued. By the time his three companions come striding up the walk we've come to cautiously like Leonard, and are morbidly curious to find out what bizarre shit is about to go down.
And then it all kind of falls apart. Not all the way apart, but into something messy enough that sifting through it becomes tedious. I can appreciate that Tremblay was aiming for ambiguity, but the plot holes and half-answers and moral anguishing aren't constructed well enough to make the gray ending satisfying. There is some really clever building here, but it isn't consistent enough to lay a foundation on.
Don't get me wrong; I did enjoy the book. The opening hook has so much potential and there is noticeable strength in Mr. Tremblay's story-telling. My overall reaction though, reaching the last page, was neither amazement nor anger. It was a “Oh. Oh okay. I see. I guess.” sort of ending. ...more
Aloysius Pendergast is an arrogant bag of di---stinctly silly characteristics.
A gloomy, brilliant, self-important, snotty martyr with fish-cold demea Aloysius Pendergast is an arrogant bag of di---stinctly silly characteristics.
A gloomy, brilliant, self-important, snotty martyr with fish-cold demeanor who can see the past (uh...whut?), his collection of quirks only serves to make him first unsympathetic and then eye-rollingly uninteresting.
Couple that kind of stellar main character with far too many coincidences, loyal allies who apparently like his disdain – one of whom may be a 90 year old nymphet who lived as a quasi mole-woman in a batcave under his New York apartment for unaging decades (wait, what?!), and so many stereotypes, and this made for a crap-tacular (but well paced and decently written) read.
Before any knickers get twisted, I know. It is not a fully fair assessment. Perhaps if I had read the 13 Pendergast books that came before Blue Labyrinth, I'd be coming out of it with a more favourable point of view. I can almost guarantee it: there must, after all, be some solid reasons why this series is so damn popular.
None of those reasons were apparent here, and nothing about Blue Labyrinth entices me to go back and find out what they are....more
I always approach late 70's/early 80's fiction (especially if it comes with stark covers with big words and little-to-no ornamentation) with trepidatiI always approach late 70's/early 80's fiction (especially if it comes with stark covers with big words and little-to-no ornamentation) with trepidation. Somewhere in the back of my mind I am always imagining these to have been written by some slightly-tubbied, largely-moneyed, grossly-mustachioed, tinted-glasses-wearing-cigar-smoking-Playboy-reading-middle-aged white dude.
They never are.
With little to go on besides a tacky cover and an excited “romantic thriller” designation, I admit it was my amusement at the one-word author appellation (Travanian!) that pushed me past my caution. I was sincerely expecting douchebaggery.
Once again, I'm happy to say that my (patronizing) preconceptions were wrong.
The SoK ended up being one of those stories that flirts with a handful of genres without ever committing to one exclusively. It starts slow and feels like a fictional memoir, a “last steps toward adulthood” type of tale. Our main dude Jean-Marc is recounting his first summer as a full fledged Doctor, apprenticing in a small town to a colorfully quirky mentor, still flush with his own innocence, arrogance and dreams.
As Jean-Marc is a writer in his spare time, in love with the idea of art and embracing his fascination with the workings of the inner mind, we assume that this is going to slide into some dramatic reflection of the upcoming war (wwII) and how it contrasted with this last idyllic and innocent summer.
But then our rock-star Trevanian introduces Katya, and it becomes an intriguing romance. Her innocence and her family's reclusiveness add an element of curious mystery that starts fresh but darkens as the summer deepens.
And Jean-Marc's innocence is suddenly ruined before we expected, as Mystery quickly becomes Thriller and then Tragedy. This all happens smoothly rather than ditheringly and the progression feels remarkably natural. There is a notably considerate treatment of mental health issues and the effects of trauma that is worth mentioning.
The Summer of Katya was a quietly impacting and engrossing read. A nice surprise....more
I enjoyed this more than Knots and Crosses. Rebus' worst character flaws got a bit less spotlight – most especially his own misogyny and fleeting but I enjoyed this more than Knots and Crosses. Rebus' worst character flaws got a bit less spotlight – most especially his own misogyny and fleeting but creepy private thoughts regarding younger women. I often like flawed protagonists, and don't necessarily mind when those flaws cross boundaries. In this case, Rebus at least seems aware and guilty about some of his more questionable qualities, and they present in his life as realistically low-key. I still disagree with the readers who take exception to Rebus' imbalanced erudition and Rankins' over-fondness for literary references. I find Rebus' positives to be more interesting than his stereotypical struggles. I don't think that literary references have to feel arrogant. For my own taste, they are an entertaining add to what feels like a trek through tropes...and I suppose at least explain how heavily those tropes are used. (I'm hoping Rebus will continue to grow into his own. It's still early game in light of the rest of the series.)
Having recently read an almost terrible teen romance set in Edinburgh, I was fascinated by how different perspectives can alter the same setting. Without the city being named, one would never have assumed they took place in the same area at all. Rebus' Edinburgh is grit-washed gray and has a wafting despondence that permeates the pages. This seems to be a strength of Rankin's.
Still reserving judgment, but a little bit happier about having one more to go (in my 3-book omnibus)...more
A YA romance. A Book Club pick. I was definitely not the right reader for this book. I want to say th This review absolutely contains spoilers. Sorry.
A YA romance. A Book Club pick. I was definitely not the right reader for this book. I want to say that I can see why other people enjoyed it, and perhaps I can...but in a really indifferent sort of way. This was just not for me.
Now honestly, normally I'd just shrug a book like this off, with its collected cliches and tropes getting eyerolled into indifference and then forgotten. But since this is up for a book club discussion, I'm thinking about it in a more in-depth fashion and trying to pick out some positives. This has the unfortunate effect of making me actively angry about the things that'd normally make me just slightly snarky.
The story of Comet Caldwell (big nope on the name, right off the bat): daughter of two creative types who - between their art, self absorption and each other – have very little energy and attention left for their teenage daughter. Comet is a quasi-outcast, a gazelle amongst the bleating sheep (of course she is.) Although she has two good and well adjusted friends, she is somehow a pariah (of course she is.) Her “uniqueness” manifests in such outlandish ways as: reading, intelligence, writing totally groundbreaking teenage poetry, a fondness for 90's music and outlandish fashion choices (despite an incredible desire to not be noticed.) The world is clearly not equipped to handle so much individuality in one person.
Comet draws the attention of the hot new “bad” boy Tobias. (Fucking shenanigans. You can't be called Tobias and have any expectation of bad boy street cred.) Toby is an angsty sullen guy cuz angsty and sullen reasons, who falls in with the bad crowd cuz angsty and sullen other reasons.
What follows is a great deal of drama and strife that is theoretically about other things but all revolves around their romance.
It resolves, after far too many angsty and sullen words, into a “happy for now” ending. Comet brings about the separation of her parents by finally getting her far too selfish mother out of the picture so her father can give Comet all of his attention instead.
Toby's far too needy cousin commits suicide, so Toby can finally focus on the choices Comet wants him to make without feeling conflicted.
Comet herself finally gets sexed up, which magically gives her value and also readies the world to handle her eccentricities and the power of her poetry.
So yeah. Not the best audience for this book, me. My apologies to those of you who liked it. (And to any Tobias-es out there. It's a good name. I'm just being trite. Sorry. Sorry.)
I did appreciate the supportive teacher trope! I'm always happy to see educators represented positively. So huzzah!...more
Layers deep in craft-work, the setting, tone, fact, style, slow build characterization and mystery are sifted so finely and deliber This was damn good.
Layers deep in craft-work, the setting, tone, fact, style, slow build characterization and mystery are sifted so finely and deliberately together that it becomes almost conversational. When it all works, it is immersive AF.
When it doesn't work (and even occasionally when it does), this book is also a slog.
I'm positive in my theory that modern authors are almost exclusively catering to ever-shortening attention spans. They spread out big story lines in series, and each book contains quick, short bursts of happening and gratification.
900 page standalones that come with this much history, this much layered building, this much characterization and this much purposeful meandering require a shift in patience and a slow-down of expectation.
Drood is the story of 2 famous authors and their long spanning friendship. The narrative focuses on the five years prior to Charles Dickens' death and is narrated by Wilkie Collins. Beginning with the (true) story of the Staplehurst rail crash, it purports that the accident (9 June, 1865) lead to a series of strange events that connected deeply with many elements of both Collins and Dickens' lives, and formed the framework for Dickens' final (and unfinished) novel, “The Mystery of Edwin Drood.”
The whole story is a curiosity, dark and mysterious. For a patient and dedicated reader, it is one to get lost in. Drood is probably a solid pass for those who like easy plots and dislike historical detail. Even when immersed, I often had to push to keep going. But I'm ever so glad I did....more
Well, I don't know. This was a book club read. It certainly made for some interesting discussion, which is, in the end, a good recommendation for any Well, I don't know. This was a book club read. It certainly made for some interesting discussion, which is, in the end, a good recommendation for any book.
I didn't really like it. But I appreciated what it was trying to do, I think. I think it was trying to be important literature, a sympathetic tragedy, a commentary on dysfunction, mental health and the intensity of our formative years. Unfortunately, it falls much closer to Flowers in the Attic than, say, The Outsiders, in terms of effectiveness and merit. There is still a voyeuristic approach, evident in the melodrama and the obvious build towards that one salaciously forbidden moment, that keeps it from stepping past cheap shock value towards actual statement.
I understand that the incest is meant to be the disturbing part of this book, but I think that the struggle of dysfunction and lack of support and understanding for mental health issues should be the more troubling.
Ultimately, I have to admit that I hate teen angst. Real and fictional. I hate how stupid and dramatic hormones can make kids behave. I have little patience for it, and I am resistant to books about it. And boy did this book angst. So, you know. Meh. ...more
Michelle F
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