“… and I don’t know where the head is.“ “The head?“ she asks, all mystified. „I got to go powerful bad and I don’t know where to do it.“
I admit: „Curs“… and I don’t know where the head is.“ “The head?“ she asks, all mystified. „I got to go powerful bad and I don’t know where to do it.“
I admit: „Curse of the Blue Tattoo“, the first of nine or ten sequels to „Bloody Jack“, a thrilling, fun account of former London street kid Mary Faber surviving in male disguise on a pirate-hunting man-o-war, has all the rompy entertainment factors of its shorter, sea-bound precessor: Evil and excentric side characters, colorfully painted, easy-to-imagine sceneries (this time of early nineteenth’ century Boston), danger, more danger, a lot of neverending action – and our ever-resouceful, cheerful, flute-playing, smitten-with-her-absent-fiancé, heart-on-tongue, good-natured and all-spontaneous heroine Mary „Jacky" Faber.
Well. It’s maybe already obvious: I got mightily fed up with Jacky and her idiot antics. The occasional urge to sigh-and-eyeroll overcame me even before I finished the first volume. The main annoyance then had been the story’s drift from a swashbuckling adventure to a mushy-gushy keep-your-greedy-hands-off-me-you-sly-boy romance. Now I see Jacky as a rather clueless Pippi Longstocking imitator, whose brazen carelessness among murderous priests, cold school mistresses, corrupt sheriffs, drunken street musicians and lesbian women of pleasure repeatedly leads to Cinderella-in-reverse-careers, whippings, unpleasant gropings of private parts and almost-rapings.
In addition, the Jaimy-mooning has not waned – although he is half a world away – and the series seems to employ a kind of stalled-progress stance as far as the heroine’s character growth and general education is concerned – probably to make her exploitable draw-backs lasts longer: Jacky’s mode of expression has been switched back to her illiterate under-the-bridge drawl including using the third-person ‚s’ („Me thinks“, „I jumps down the gangway“), which she had successfully dropped with the help of the midshipmen’s instructor on board of the HMS Dolphin, and her table manners … I guess the author needed the contrast to the future society ladies attenting the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls very badly for effect. So he added things like a notorious nose-picking habit on top. I found Jacky’s difficulties to adapt and imitate her female peers rather hard to believe since her success to pass as a ship’s boy heavily relied on her gift to blend in, to quickly observe and copy the behavior and attitude of those surrounding her.
So. We have parted ways, fine lady and natural-born racing jockey Mary Faber and I, exactly on page 245. Are we going to meet again in one of the numerous reheated remixes the series holds in store? „Not bloody likely, mate!“ ...more
"You get three wishes," the genie said. "I wish for a Duck for Dirk, and My Secret Agent Lover Man for me, and a beautiful little house for us to liv"You get three wishes," the genie said. "I wish for a Duck for Dirk, and My Secret Agent Lover Man for me, and a beautiful little house for us to live in happiliy ever after." "Your wishes are granted. Mostly," said the genie.
My wishes were not granted, mostly. I was prepared to read a short, but pleasantly shocking, quirky urban young adult fantasy novel of the ageless sort. Something that has earned being referenced in every other modern fairytale review. But I was disappointed by something so decadent and otherwordly silly of novella-sized proportions - which is maybe hip and maybe multi-layered and satirical and whatnot - that I failed to get it.
Please don't misunderstand. I am not complaining about the "plot" or what the story deals with in general. I do appreciate that it celebrates love in countless forms and outlets between friends, gay lovers, couples who have already split up but cannot let go, parent and child, human and pet, love in different modes of bliss and hurt, family as patchwork as it gets, forgiveness and beauty. I draw my hat because drugs, AIDS, the downsides of stardom and other problems occuring in Hollywood and elsewhere are not glossed over, but brazenly interwoven into everyday life.
I felt let down, because "Weetzie Bat" could only be compared to a fairytale in the sense that both dump unbelievable or exciting facts onto the reader using a detached point of view and a really compact, condensed style: The evil frog turned green with envy, followed the princess into her plush chamber and impregnated her on the spot. He left the castle seven nights before his daughter Swampsea was born. "Good riddance," said her mother, now a royal single parent, and employed a gnarly-horned wet-nurse from hell. Oops! Wrong tale! The man's name was Valentine Jah-Love and the woman's name was Ping Chong. [...] "Jah!" cried Valentine, lifting his stormy face up in the greenish electric light. "You'll have to stay here. It will rain for seven days and seven nights." It rained and rained. Everything in "Weetzie Bat" happens immediately and reminded me of the times in my childhood when I tried to made up a story, started by choosing the characters' names with painful elaboration - the wackier, the better -, moved on to outline what was supposed to happen to whom, jotted down some experimental dialogue and then ... left it to its own devices, because playing some other promising game of make-believe had gained my attention.
In addition to the rush and the lack of filling everything is so easy and too superficial. I.e. My Secret Agent Lover Man (that's a character's name) and Weetzie successfully "make" a couple of movies with the help of one or two friends and their house-mates, who function as actors, wardrobe people and whoever is needed, and earn enough money to live, indulge in their favorite sushi and buy a new car although there is no talk about financing or selling the projects or even of anybody watching the outcomes.
Plus my expectation of a magically version of an 80s L.A. had to be satisfied by a voodoo practicing seductress popping in as a supporting character and by a genie suffering from occupational burn-out who transplants Weetzie and Dirk from being teenaged, desillusioned lesson-cutters to living as house-owners on the look-out for the perfect, respective "Duck" (guy).
Please forgive me, enthusiastic Weetzie fans, for missing the spectacular wonder Weetzie's adventures are supposed to present and for being impatient enough to skip all four sequels without dishing out a second chance to Cherokee, Witch Baby and yet unknown Angel Juan to eventually wow me....more
*** I've given up after reading 36% and fast-forwarding to the cliffhanger ending *** Goodness. After reading the initial volume I would NEVER have tho*** I've given up after reading 36% and fast-forwarding to the cliffhanger ending *** Goodness. After reading the initial volume I would NEVER have thought that I would pull the brakes on this series. Never. The mature heroine working in a LIBRARY, the hot, but unjerkish love interest, the refreshing incidents of swearing, the action, the friendship, the angel lore.
But, now I realize that none of the supportive cast except Jude and Daniel have left the slightest imprint on my mind since reading and sufficiently enjoying volume 2, and that the in-minute-details-related, uneventful plot in the Rephraims' Italian Sanctuary that took longer time to read than it took the characters to live (36% covered about 3.5 hours of Gaby's life) swaggered between making me antsy, because I hoped to get a grip on who of all those clonish-and-sexless-seeming half-angels, monks and bikers was who and was pro- or anti-Gaby and did what, and making me feel a painful sort of boredom, because there is one point-of-clueless-and-pissed-off-view, one location including a garden, a mess hall, a shower and a gym, a probably-alive love interest far, far away, almost no monster in sight and a kind of waiting-room-feel to it all (where's my lukewarm coffee and the magazine kiosk?).
Plus, I REALLY thought this would be end of the series and would provide stuff to fill the blanks in Gaby's head (three volumes is enough in most cases, as I am concerned. Move on, authors, move on, already!), and suddenly I had to discover that the drudgery third I had been ploughing through was just the beginning of a filler volume somewhere in the middle of the saga. Thanks a lot.
Good for me that I only invested in the cheap Kindle version. Nobody seems to know the series here in Germany. That means swapping or reselling a paper copy would surely be a pain in the brain....more
It's the first thing we show any new visitors to our house. "Look what our foreign exchange student left for us," we tell them. "It must be a culturalIt's the first thing we show any new visitors to our house. "Look what our foreign exchange student left for us," we tell them. "It must be a cultural thing," says Mum. I solemnly promise: Should a Thumbelina-sized Eric (His real name is too difficult to pronounce for us) ever decide to stay at my place as a foreign exchange student, I am going to refrain from buckling him into a car seat, where he would be blocked from seeing the world (Easy, since I don't own a car). I will coo about each bonbon wrapper and bottle cap he chooses to pick up, visit him daily in the pantry (I don't have a pantry; but maybe he can stay in the cupboard that houses our pasta, the Nutella and the Knäcke) to see how he is faring and switch my long, dangling earrings for silver hoops so he can accompany me "Jenks-style" to enjoy his "cultural thing" and to sprinkle his almost unbearable, black-and-white cuteness across my life. ...more
I ordered this to fulfill the Young Adult Book Club's 17th quarterly challenge, although teen pregnancy books are seldom my thing. But I had a prettyI ordered this to fulfill the Young Adult Book Club's 17th quarterly challenge, although teen pregnancy books are seldom my thing. But I had a pretty good feeling about this story. I shouldn't have had it - that gut feeling. The main character, her best friend, all the boys AND her parents are completely unlikable in my opinion. 83 pages and some skimming through the rest provided no joy or satisfaction at all. That said I need to stress that my rating does not have anything to do with the outcome of/decision about the unwanted pregnancy dilemma. ...more
I don't know. Usually I am enchanted by everything fairytalish and wacky. The crazier the idea or the more far-fetched the setting, the louder my cheeI don't know. Usually I am enchanted by everything fairytalish and wacky. The crazier the idea or the more far-fetched the setting, the louder my cheer. But this half-modern, half-traditional fairytale did not move or delight me in the least:
An evil dragon king, who eats his seven dwarfish cooks for breakfast and has a human daughter, who loves the kingdom's pop-idol, a penguin singer/entertainer, who sings songs that criticise the royal rule and thus gets arrested by the king's robots. The princess persuades her witch-aunt, who lives in Berlin-Grünewald and loves finnish Vodka, to disable the prison's security by feeding virus-salamanders into the system, gets the roboters a stocking-knitting job and serves her unsuspecting father a magic pudding, which turns him into something small and harmless. Duh.
I think there are too many aspects that would only appeal to adults and too few elements that could turn the story into something that has sarcastic bite or creative brilliance. The pictures are nicely done, but the plot sounds like something I could have jumbled together after two glasses of wine and a bucket full of giggles....more