Some books should be sold with a companion novel, a cheerful, nonsensical one people would read immediately after the main story to lighten up their souls. If there was ever a book that left me in urgent need of some cheering up (and a cup of spicy hot chocolate), it’s this one. But would I change a single thing about it? Not in a million years!
There are some things most people would rather not think about. I dare say Spanish flu is one of them. It’s a nasty scar in human history, and October 1918 possibly the worst month humankind has ever endured. Not only was the world desperate and exhausted by the First World War, but far worse was the second wave of influenza that killed anywhere between 50 and 100 million people.
This is the month Cat Winters chose to write about, and she did so with the surety of a seasoned author (I still can’t believe that this is her debut) and a thorough research behind her. In the Shadow of Blackbirds is a story built on the contrast between a young, innocent love and the war that tried (and succeeded) to steal that innocence away. Everywhere Mary Shelley turned, she saw nothing but ugliness and death. In her world, human warmth and compassion disappeared behind fear and mistrust. The gauze masks people wore to protect themselves from the flu are very symbolic of the period, and of the terror and distance between people.
”Oh, you silly, naive men.” I shook my weary head and genuinely pitied their ignorance. “You’ve clearly never been a sixteen-year-old girl in the fall of 1918.”*
Through it all, Mary Shelley Black is practically alone. Her father is in prison, accused of being a traitor, her 26-year-old aunt is superstitious and unsupportive, and her young boyfriend Stephen died in a battlefield in France. As a very unconventional girl who enjoys taking things apart to see how they work, Shell is quite used to a lonely life, but at least before she always had Stephen to talk to. He was the only one who ever appreciated and even admired her eccentricities.
When Stephen's spirit starts showing up next to Mary Shelley in photographs taken by his opportunistic half-brother, Mary has to consider the possibility that he isn’t resting peacefully and investigate the circumstances of his death. In this book, the brutally realistic and the paranormal collide, and the reader is never quite sure how much of it is truth, and how much is the product of overactive imagination (actually, the words ‘group delusion’ and ‘mass hysteria’ come to mind).
I’ve never given much thought to the things people hold on to in difficult times to alleviate their fear, but the sudden (renewed) popularity of spiritualism during World War I makes perfect sense, as do the folk remedies people resorted to to protect themselves from the flu. It’s very easy for us to be judgmental and ridicule people who stuffed salt up their nose, but in October 1918, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same.
I don’t need to be a clairvoyant to see the future that lies ahead of Cat Winters and her debut: awards, critical acclaim, translations to more languages than I can name (I’m a linguist, I can name a lot of languages). If you squint at the cover, you can already see the shiny William C. Morris medal in the top left corner, possibly even a Printz. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.
There’s only a handful of authors whose insightfulness I admire as much as I admire Sarah Skilton right now, most of them Australian. At first, my rating was 4.5 stars, but then I decided that such profound understanding of human psyche combined with really excellent writing deserves more. So I gave it a five, which is something I rarely do. And I don’t regret it.
Control and power are such interesting things. We all crave them, some more, some less, and none of us like to feel helpless or weak. But feeling powerful and in control can be a double-edged sword. That wonderful feeling easily turns into something horrible the second someone stronger comes along. We all want to believe that we can defend ourselves, that nothing big can harm us. Those things happen to other people, right?
But what if you spend years preparing for exactly one such event? Countless hours of training to protect not just yourself, but those who are weaker, powerless? And what if, when the time comes, you fail? I doubt an adult would be able to handle that very well. A sixteen-year-old girl? She’s likely to get angry, violent and depressed, and not in neat little stages, but all at once. She’s likely to crack.
Imogen spent six years living and breathing Tae Kwan Do. She followed all the rules, inside and outside the dojang. She trained hard, ate healthy and studied a lot for her average grades. She was confident that she could face any situation, confront any bully, fend off any attack, all thanks to her rigorous training. What she didn’t count on was a gun.
This story about Imogen’s struggle with guilt, depression, and the need to prove to everyone that she IS capable of defending herself, is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever read. Skilton’s approach is brutally honest and realistic, and she’s not in the business of creating heroes. Imogen wasn’t always the easiest character to like, but even when she was being unfair or judgmental, I could feel the hurt pouring off her, and I desperately wanted to protect her even though she doesn’t need anyone’s protection.
The most wonderful thing about Bruised are its layers. As the story progresses, more of Imogen’s family issues are revealed, and we see it’s not just the event in the diner she struggles with, but also problems that were there before. She’s angry at her father for ignoring his diabetes and ending up in a wheelchair, she’s upset with her older brother for outshining her in everything, but most of all, she resents her mother for not accepting her for who she is.
There is no magic wand Imogen can wave to make her problems disappear. Depression and anger aren’t things one can just decide to recover from overnight. Bruised isn’t some miraculous story about self discovery. It’s about a girl forced to question everything she stands for and maybe become a better person in the process.
If you’re a contemporary fan, Bruised is an absolute must-read. If you’re not… well, neither am I, but the best things in life come from unexpected directions. I know not everyone will love this book as much as I did, but it will definitely leave an impression. It’s not one you’ll easily forget.
Ten Things I’ve Learnt About Love is so far out of my comfort zone that I had to take a train back, but it was definitely worth the trip. It is a soft...moreTen Things I’ve Learnt About Love is so far out of my comfort zone that I had to take a train back, but it was definitely worth the trip. It is a soft, nostalgic story about a woman who is a bit lost but more importantly, who doesn’t want to be found. As the youngest of three daughters, Alice has a hard time finding her place in her own family. She also has a hard time staying in one place; she is a wanderer, restless by nature. It doesn’t take long for her to start feeling trapped so she travels the world to avoid it.
It is a lonely life Alice leads. Unable to create real emotional attachments, or rather prone to denying those she has created, she is a lone island surrounded by people she should be closest to. After spending six months in Mongolia, running from a dysfunctional family, a relationship that made her feel aimless and trapped, she receives the news that her father is dying and returns home.
Daniel is Alice’s real father. He is homeless, a different type of wanderer, but a wanderer nevertheless. He is, in part, homeless by choice; the life without attachments suits him. He refuses to leave the city, though, because that’s where he thinks Alice is, although he knows very little about her. For her part, Alice doesn’t even know that the doctor dying in their family home isn’t her real father. He was her mother’s husband, father of her two sisters, and he raised her as his own, even after her mother died.
I don’t even know what you look like. I don’t even know where you are. I tried to find you, you must believe that. I went to her house and rang the bell, but no one answered, and when I looked through the window, I saw the marks on the carpet, where the furniture used to be.
It wasn’t always easy being inside the head of someone so detached. In lack of her emotional responses, I’d try to assume what she would feel in any given situation and quickly become frustrated when Alice remained unchanged by this new experience. At least on the surface. There were some complicated feelings underneath, but she never reacted as one would expect.
It takes a lot for me to pick up a realistic novel, and even more if it’s literary fiction, but I rarely regret it in the end. That is the case with Ten Things I’ve Learnt about Love. I loved the change, the maturity of it, I loved that it didn’t have a messy beginning and a clean ending. I loved the asymmetry of it, the nostalgia that poured out of every page. I loved that it was a quiet read, never melodramatic, complicated and yet so very simple at the same time. It made me want to step out of my comfort zone more often because I always come back a different, if not better person, and really, what more can one ask?
4.5 stars This review is entirely spoiler-free and consequently a bit all over the place. I hope you’ll forgive me.
There isn’t much I can say about Th...more4.5 stars This review is entirely spoiler-free and consequently a bit all over the place. I hope you’ll forgive me.
There isn’t much I can say about The Infernal Devices that hasn’t been said already. In my life, I’ve finished more series than I can count, but there was never an ending that broke me in quite so many pieces and left me feeling as emotionally exhausted as this one. In that, The Clockwork Princess is unparalleled. For the longest time I refused to go anywhere near this series because of the bitter disappointment I felt after City of Fallen Angels, but once I finally succumbed to peer pressure, I immediately became just another prisoner of Cassie Clare’s magic. There is something in the quiet beauty of this trilogy that quickly finds its way to the very center of your heart. By the time you realize you’ve started caring, it’s far too late to protect yourself. You are fully invested and well on your way to getting your heart utterly broken.
We all waited on pins and needles to learn the fate of our three heroes. There were no advance copies to be had, no early cries of either outrage or joy on Twitter and GoodReads, just silence and endless speculations. Let’s not kid ourselves, discovering The Magister’s plans came second to learning whom Tessa would choose in the end and what role fate would play in their heartbreaking situation.
Fortunately, secondary characters weren’t swept away by the Jem-Tessa-Will hurricane. Clare took the time to give each of their stories a proper conclusion. All of them were present, and some, like the Lightwood brothers, played a crucial role in the main plotline.
I had every intention of writing a long passage about the epilogue and how much it bothered me, but I can’t seem to force myself to do it. The first 545 pages were pure perfection that cannot possibly be outweighed by the final 19 pages of fan service. Let’s just say I could have done without it and leave it at that.
I think #1 spot on the New York Times Bestsellers list, #2 spot on the USA Today Bestsellers list and #1 spot on the Publisher’s Weekly Bestsellers list tell you all you need to know about this book. I expected as much, but it’s still nice to see definite proof of how many lives it touched.
Aside from The Dark Artifices trilogy set in modern day Los Angeles, there’s talk of yet another Shadowhunter trilogy, which (mysteriously) goes by the initials THL and takes place in 1903. It will follow the next generation of Shadowhunters after Will, Tessa and Jem. A release date hasn’t yet been announced.
I’ve been walking with this odd ‘I can’t believe it’s over’ feeling for days now, slightly dazed and overwhelmed. I can often be seen frantically paging through my copy, revisiting certain passages, laughing and crying all over again. It will fade eventually, like everything does, but that will only give me a chance to reread and relive it all with a renewed intensity.
My warmest thanks to Walker UK for the gorgeous collector’s edition. I haven’t been able to stop staring at the shiny cover. (I might have hugged it a couple of times too, but I’d never admit to it in public.)
I have so much love for Rachel Hartman and this book! My five-star ratings are few and far between, but I’d give Seraphina ten if I could. It was so e...moreI have so much love for Rachel Hartman and this book! My five-star ratings are few and far between, but I’d give Seraphina ten if I could. It was so easy to get lost in this world of humans, dragons and those in-between – I still haven’t found my way back.
Hartman’s dragons are magnificent creatures, full of intersting paradoxes. On a physical level, they produce fire, but on an emotional level, they’re cold and tightly controlled. They go to great lengths to remain emotionless, even though their saars (human shapes) are more susceptible to emotions. They have ways to excise these unwanted emotions from their brains and they keep close watch on dragons suspected of harboring human emotions.
Dragons used meditation and what Orma called cognitive architecture to partition their minds into discrete spaces. They kept their maternal memories in one room, for example, because they were disruptively intense; the one maternal memory I’d experienced had bowled me over. Emotions, which the saar found uncomfortable and overpowering, were locked away securely and never permitted to leak out.
The world Hartman created has a distinctly Medieval feel, but with many exceptions and liberties that were quite unimaginable in the Middle Ages. She took the time to build this world, which resulted in somewhat slower pacing, but I didn’t mind in the least. I find that I’m willing to suffer through almost anything if that means I’ll end up with a complete and well thought-out world. Fortunately, Hartman’s intricate worldbuilding didn’t come at a price. From the very first sentence, Seraphina had me entranced. I took my time reading it and I appreciate that it allowed me to do that. The best books aren’t those that practically force you to turn pages. True works of art permit you to enjoy them slowly, at your own pace, and it takes a great author to achieve that.
As for Seraphina, oh my! If there was ever a heroine one could admire with no doubts or hesitations, a heroine whose every action is an inspiration, it’s Maid Seraphina Dombegh. Half-human and half-dragon, she isn’t even supposed to exist, and yet she finds a way to live so fully despite her need for secrecy. Phina has the best of both worlds: quick logical thinking and problem solving typical of dragons tempered with inherently human warmth and loyalty. I think these words directed to her by Dame Okra, another half-dragon, describe her better than I ever could:
Whatever else may be true of you, you do things your own way, with a refreshingly self-assured pigheadedness. I like that!
Over time, Seraphina falls deeply in love with Prince Lucian Kiggs, queen’s bastard grandson and fiancé of Princess Glisselda, heir to the throne. Kiggs is the captain of the Queen’s Guard, competent, fiercely intelligent, and loyal to a fault. When she first meets him, Seraphina thinks of him as plain, but the more time she spends with him, the more beautiful he becomes in her eyes. They share so much, these two – their curiosity and love for philosophy, but above all, their loyalty to Glisselda, which makes it impossible for them to be together. Such bittersweet, well-written romance would be my favorite part in any book, but in Seraphina, the competition is hard. Singling anything out would be unfair to all the other parts I absolutely adore.
As soon as Dracomachia gets a cover, I’ll pre-order a copy. I don’t pre-order books with no covers, it’s just another one of my oddities, but this one almost made me break my own rule.
I hope my friend Catie will forgive me for stealing her line, but I simply couldn’t resist: Fantasy lovers, rejoice!
4.5 stars Hmm, let's see: steampunk noir, fantastic worldbuilding, characters I fell in love with almost instantly, crime scenes worthy of Patricia Cor...more4.5 stars Hmm, let's see: steampunk noir, fantastic worldbuilding, characters I fell in love with almost instantly, crime scenes worthy of Patricia Cornwell, clockwork, LOTS of sexual tension and a heart-stopping conclusion. All in a single book, my friends.
Centuries ago in a land called Hy Breasil, native Ferishers and strayed humans saw marriage as a way to stop the war between their two races. Sons and daughters of the two great Courts married the conquerors in an attempt to save themselves from annihilation. Today, very little Fey blood remains and the gifts it offers are often both unwelcome and dangerous.
In the great city of Dorstaad, two Criminal Investigation Division inspectors, Celeste Ritsuko and Janus Mikani, do excellent work despite the hostility they occasionally face. They are each other’s exact opposites: she, measured, well organized and precise, excellent at drawing conclusions from evidence she pedantically collects; and he, a charmer who mostly runs on intuition and solves cases using gifts his Fey blood provides.
Ritsuko and Mikani begin as co-workers and friends and they remain friends. It is a wonderful thing they have, a purely platonic relationship built on trust and mutual understanding. There is attraction of course, but neither of them is willing to risk what they already have for something that may or may not work… probably not, considering Mikani’s track record. Neither of them admits, even to themselves, that they might be moving towards something more, a different kind of relationship, no longer safe, but risky and exciting at the same time. Theirs is a subtle, tentative dance, a slow-burning romance at its finest and one that will leave you desperate to know if and when they’ll take the plunge.
(You WILL be jumping up and down in your seat, chanting “Do it! Do it! Go for it! Kiss her, you moron! Kiss her!”)
Their characterization is superb. I find that I often use the words ‘astonishingly good’ to describe Aguirre’s work, but I can’t help it when they always apply. Bronze Gods and its characters didn’t sprout over night, they’re the result of a decade-long work, which is obvious on every page. I’ve read my fair share of crime novels and seen enough crime shows that I’m not easily impressed. I think we are all desensitized as readers and viewers, and yet these crime scenes gave me the chills. Each included a different mysterious, inexplicable device, the purpose of which was entirely unclear to Ritsuko and Mikani.
I am, as I’m sure you all know, a bit demanding when it comes to steampunk. I want well-defined worlds, age-appropriate language and at least a few creative gadgets. Ann and Andres Aguirre gave me all that and more. I need book 2 more than I need air... or bread.... or...well, maybe not blueberry muffins. But close.
I rest my case.
At The Nocturnal Library: Ann Aguirre talks about writing this book with her husband.
The Diviners is my first book by Libba Bray, but I can tell you right now that it won’t be my last. I’m thrilled to have discovered another YA author...moreThe Diviners is my first book by Libba Bray, but I can tell you right now that it won’t be my last. I’m thrilled to have discovered another YA author of such talent and prominence. I would have given her a chance even before now, especially considering all the raving reviews written by my most trusted friends, but I simply never got around to it. Fortunately, she left me no choice with The Diviners. New York in the 1920s was impossible to resist.
I’ll start with my favorite part – the setting. Libba Bray did an extraordinary job in taking her readers to New York during the Prohibition era. I could hear the music and the laughter, smell the forbidden alcohol, and it made me want to put on a flapper hat and dance my feet right off. I could spend an eternity reading about the Roaring Twenties, and the ghost of a serial killer only made it that much more interesting.
Naughty John, Naughty John, does his work with his apron on. Cuts your throat and takes your bones. Sells ‘em off for a coupla stones…
Yup, you read that right: there’s a ghost of a vicious serial killer on the loose, and the only ones with any chance of stopping him are an 18-year-old psychic girl and a group of people that share the same dream. Even Evie’s uncle Will, who runs The Museum of American Folklore, Superstition and the Occult, also known as The Museum of the Creepy Crawlies, is powerless against this murderous ghost. And if that isn’t enough to freak you out, there are religious fanatics involved as well, and seriously, nothing is creepier than that.
To be quite honest, there were parts of this book that were a bit hard to get through. I’m not a fan of 3rd person, multiple points of view narrative to begin with, and The Diviners offered far too many perspectives for my taste. It’s so hard to connect with the characters that way, and Evie was the only one I really felt close too.
To top that off, Evie was a hard character to like. She was occasionally self-centered and a little too care-free. (I’m very organized and responsible and people who just breeze through life tend to annoy me.) But there were times when I felt I truly understood why she behaved in such a way, and I could connect with her regardless of her frustrating actions. The loss of a family hero, Evie’s older brother, damaged her family irreparably, and acting out was her way to cope.
But don’t let my ranting or those 600 pages scare you off. The Diviners is a book worth reading, although it will force you to read slowly and carefully – something I’m not quite used to. Bray’s talent for creating an eerie atmosphere is matched only by her intelligent humor. At times, I had to fight the urge to hide under my bed, only to burst out laughing five minutes later at something witty Evie said.
Uncle Will frowned. “Didn’t they teach you how to go about research in that school of yours?” “No. But I can recite ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ while making martinis.” “I weep for the future.” “That’s where the martinis come in.”
Make no mistake, The Diviners is a demanding book. It requires your full attention, but whatever it takes, it gives back tenfold. If I were you I wouldn’t hesitate to pick it up. As for me, I’ll just sit right here, very patiently and without making a sound, and wait for Libba Bray to finish the sequel. Some things were left unsaid and I need to know, need to know, needtoknoneedtoknowneedtoknow… Oh, shut up, brain!
I have a small confession to make, though it’s hardly a secret since my review is here for all to see: I wasn’t really a fan of Blood Red Roa...more3.5 stars
I have a small confession to make, though it’s hardly a secret since my review is here for all to see: I wasn’t really a fan of Blood Red Road. In fact, I was so disappointed by it that I never intended to read Rebel Heart. That said, I’m happy it showed up on my doorstep completely unexpectedly. Painful as it may be, I like the direction the story is taking.
Rather than focusing on giant killer worms, Moira Young decided to explore the extent of human cruelty and willingness to survive. The pacing is noticeably slower, but Rebel Heart undoubtedly offers more than its predecessor – at least to a reader with my preferences. It is emotionally intense, grim and layered – I could actually feel the dust on my skin for the first time, and it was a most welcome feeling, one that told me Young has finally done it right.
If there’s one thing I admire about Young (other than the language, of course), it’s that she’s more than capable of surprising me. This is what sets her apart from most Young Adult writers: she goes where the story leads her, regardless of what it might mean for her, and even when it’s not easy for her characters and, ultimately, her readers.
Whatever objections I had to Saba’s character in Blood Red Road (and I had quite a few) no longer apply. It’s almost like she was still a work in progress then, and now she’s finally completed, damaged but consistent, well-rounded and perfectly clear. I didn’t necessarily approve of her actions or even like her most of the time, but I understood her and everything she did made sense to me.
After what she’s been through in Blood Red Road, Saba simply had to change one way or the other. I’m glad Young chose not to ignore the emotional trauma she would have suffered. Instead, all her decisions have repercussions that could have been foreseen, but in no way avoided. Spirits of the people she’s lost follow Saba’s every step. She is terrified and broken, afraid to touch her bow, and desperate to hide it from Lugh, who is in no better shape himself. Whatever the Tonton did to him left him bitter and furious – at Saba, at their father and especially Jack. It is so hard for Saba to admit that their relationship has changed, that they’re no longer the inseparable twins they used to be and that Lugh can no longer offer the same sense of security and warmth. Here. Now. Alone. With none but my own heart fer witness, I’ll say it. Without Lugh, I’m able to breathe. He smothers me. Chokes me. Pens me in. Tethers me to him with his worry and anger and sorrow and fear.
For most of this book, Saba and Jack are nowhere near each other, and yet he is always with her, every second of every day. I’m very uncomfortable with some of the events in Rebel Heart, but I accept them as proof of good writing and I can’t help but appreciate the risks Young decided to take. At this point, I can’t even imagine a happy ending for these characters.
But I’ll end this review on a more positive note. Here’s some candy for fellow Jack fans: I think about Jack. Of how it’ll be when I see him agin. When he’s holdin me tight an I’m holdin him tighter an the heartstone’s burnin my skin. I think of what we might say. Him to me. Me to him. I ain’t no soft girl. I don’t know no soft words. Be with me, Jack. That’s what I’ll say. Burn with me. Shine with me.
Invincible Summer takes place over the course of several summers, during which the McGill family, not very put together in the first place, completely...moreInvincible Summer takes place over the course of several summers, during which the McGill family, not very put together in the first place, completely falls apart, only to reassemble itself entirely out of order, like a tile mosaic made out of pieces that don't quite fit together, in colors that don't quite match. When you think about it, the same happens to most families sooner or later, and therein lies the true strength of this book.
Invincible Summer is a quiet little book, a great example of postmodern literature heavily influenced by Camus’ existential prose. I took my time reading it, which is highly unusual for me. The McGill family was so easy to slip into, but then I’d suddenly feel the need to remove myself from their drama, run from them like the oldest brother Noah does all the time, and read something fun that has very little to do with real life.
This drama I mentioned isn’t the loud, obvious drama of soap operas. It is the quiet torture of being in a large family in which all the roles are reversed. Chase struggles with being closely connected to his large family, and yet somehow feeling isolated at the same time. His parents keep having more children, even though the oldest, Noah, is already eighteen years old and the youngest, Gideon, is deaf and requires a lot of attention, and despite the fact that they can’t seem to find common ground about anything at all. The family is full of paradoxes: they are extremely loud in everyday communication, but when they have a problem or a disagreement, they refuse to communicate. Two youngest (healthy) children, Chase and Claudia, are the most responsible ones, taking the role of parents to Gideon far too often. Noah, the oldest, feels very affectionate towards his family, but he can’t stand to spend much real time around them, so he often disappears without a trace for hours at a time.
Chase is going through his sexual awakening, suddenly aware of every girl around, especially his brother’s girlfriend Melinda. 12-year-old Claudia is drawing attention to herself by kissing waitresses in restaurants, Gideon is struggling with sign language and communicating in general, Noah is more restless than ever, and their parents are physically present, but completely absent in every way that counts.
From what I’ve read, most readers had issues with the overwhelming presence of Albert Camus in this book. He is everywhere, constantly quoted by characters and obsessed about, but he can also be found deep underneath the characters and the plot. His influence on Moskowitz herself and the structure of her novel is clearly discernible: if you think about it, the overly melancholic tone and strong sense of detachment are all reminiscent of Camus’ most famous work. Invincible Summer is very much an existentialist book. That part I didn’t mind, I’m a fan after all, but putting poor Albert in the mouths of teenage characters took away from their credibility and made me cringe several times. That is the only flaw I found, and one that is easily forgiven.
In Invincible Summer, Moskowitz did what she does best – she created characters that are impossible to forget and wrote a story that isn’t really a story at all – just a glimpse into a family’s existence: the disagreements, the tragedies, their love and connections. She’s not one for obvious drama, our Hannah, and yet, what could possibly be more terrifying than everyday life itself? Reading this book, it is incredibly easy to forget that Hannah Moskowitz is ridiculously young. In her case, all that means is that she has many great books ahead of her. At 21 years of age, she is a force to be reckoned with.
Almost two years ago, when I picked up a book called The Reapers Are the Angels (mostly because I liked the title), I never dreamed reading it would b...moreAlmost two years ago, when I picked up a book called The Reapers Are the Angels (mostly because I liked the title), I never dreamed reading it would be such a life-changing, earth-shattering experience. Not only did Alden Bell (pseudonym for Joshua Gaylord, author of Hummingbirds) take everything I thought I knew about genre fiction and turn it upside down, but his main characters, Temple and Moses (and what an odd pair they are) became permanent residents in my thoughts and in my heart.
Exit Kingdom is not a sequel, but a companion novel – a prequel in some ways – loosely connected through two characters: Moses and his paternal half-brother Abraham. The story begins after the events of The Reapers: Moses and Maury are sitting around a bonfire with some survivors and Moses is answering questions about their travels. When asked whether he believes in God, Moses offers to tell a story about his early adventures – one that explains why he knows with absolute certainty that God truly exists.
Like The Reapers, Exit Kingdom is very much a road novel, still influenced by Cormac McCarthy and William Faulkner among others, but the philosophy hidden within is somewhat different. Temple was a ray of hope in an otherwise hopeless world, and Moses’ perspective seems rather bleak in comparison. Many factors caused this huge difference between them, but the most important one, the one that Bell himself keeps pointing out in the few interviews that can be found, is that Temple was born in a world infested with slugs, while Moses still remembers what life was like before.
Bell’s writing is unusual and breathtaking: he skillfully uses language to create the right atmosphere and to bring his readers closer to a world where education had to take the back seat to survival. It’s interesting that a language can deteriorate so badly and still be so beautiful. Add to that Moses’ unusual way of speaking – for even the most mundane sentences become noteworthy coming from his mouth – and you’ll get a prose piece that is distinctive and impossible to forget.
My brother and I, Moses says, we’re hard to offend, friar. You likely couldn’t stumble by accident upon the offence to us – you’d have to give it your full effort and strategy. So don’t fret yourself on that account. We’re happy to get whatever you feel like offerin. And we’re happy to offer services in exchange.
Exit Kingdom is a story about God, or the absence of God, but it is not a religious story. God, like beauty, is very much in the eye of the beholder. Where one sees chaos, another sees harmony. Where one sees apocalypse, another sees rebirth. I think the last sentence (it’s not a spoiler, not at all relevant to our story), will tell you more about this book than I have in this entire review:
4.5 stars When I first felt myself being pulled into this story, I glanced down and saw the number 156 written at the bottom of the page. 156 pages of...more4.5 stars When I first felt myself being pulled into this story, I glanced down and saw the number 156 written at the bottom of the page. 156 pages of barely understandable, agonizingly slow and almost painfully dense prose - that’s what it took for me to start enjoying Stormdancer. But here’s the thing: now that I fully understand this book, I understand the necessity of such a beginning. This is how the rain becomes a flood. One drop at a time.
There’s something mesmerizing and magical about a world well-built, and Kristoff’s is more detailed than most. As hard as it is to understand it at first, once you become a part of it, it is unlikely to ever let you go. It is a grim, filthy world, poisoned by blood lotus, a plant that kills the land it grows from and is used for everything from fuel to drugs. It is a world of stark contrasts – excessive wealth and excessive poverty, mythical creatures and technology. Not much in it can be described as beautiful, and yet, the beauty of it in its entirety is undeniable. It is reminiscent of the most intricate filigree work. Even if it doesn’t appeal to your personal taste, you must appreciate the skill that was necessary to create it.
And yet, in many ways, this stunning, complex world quickly becomes overshadowed by the characters. Each of them was created just like the world was – slowly, with much attention to details, in a million layers, some more important than others. Yukiko herself cannot be reduced to a one-sentence description, but what truly surprises me is that none of the characters can either. They are all so many things at once, their histories interconnected, their stories all somehow related. Hatred doesn’t sprout from nothing in Kristoff’s world. Everything has an explanation, everyone carries some trauma and hurt, and every single character has hidden motives.
Among them, the thunder tiger stands out as the most fascinating by far. I must confess I’d never given much thought to mythological creatures such as griffins, but seeing Buruu through Kristoff’s eyes made me realize how blind I’d been. He is truly a magnificent creature, powerful and fiercely intelligent, yet tender and caring toward Yukiko, his Stormdancer. The telepathic connection they share is one of the most interesting things I’ve ever read about. Spending time in each other’s minds changes them both ever so subtly. The arashitora’s understanding of the human world increases, and she becomes slightly more explosive in nature. They call each other brother and sister because that’s what they truly are, and that’s how protective they are of each other.
The hindquarters of a white tiger, rippling muscle bound tight beneath the snow-white fur, slashed with thick bands of ebony. The broad wings, forelegs and head of a white eagle, proud and fierce; lightning reflected in amber irises and pupils of darkest black. It roared again, shaking the ship, cutting through the air like a katana in a swordsaint’s hands.
All good things come at a price and with Stormdancer, that price is your patience. Understanding the initial chapters or even caring about the characters won’t be easy at first, but if you persist, you will be heavily rewarded.
4.5 stars Something was seriously amiss in this town. I’d felt it the moment I crossed Bell Lake. The shadows seem deeper, the nights longer, the secr...more4.5 stars Something was seriously amiss in this town. I’d felt it the moment I crossed Bell Lake. The shadows seem deeper, the nights longer, the secrets older. Even the wind felt different here.
In The Kingdom, second book in The Graveyard Queen series, Amelia Gray is called to restore the local cemetery in Asher Falls, South Carolina, and she gladly accepts, hoping that some time away will help put emotional distance between her and John Devlin, the haunted police detective she desperately loves. The job, however, is not as simple as it seemed to be. Thorngate cemetery and the powerful family that used to own it are surrounded by controversy and not everyone is welcoming. Amelia soon discovers that she has blood ties to the place and she is forced to face not only the ghosts that are everywhere, but her family's history as well.
It is strange but admirable that Stevens decided to distance her heroine from the original love interest for the duration of this book. As much as I missed John Devlin and his dark, brooding personality, that particular storyline is a lot like good wine: the more time Stevens chooses to give it, the better it will become. After all, if Devlin was freed from the ghosts that haunt him – those of his wife and daughter – too quickly, it would make the issue seem less serious than it’s supposed to be, especially if the trigger happened to be his attraction to Amelia. In addition, getting to know Thane Asher, the man who kept Amelia company in this book, was an unexpected pleasure. Like Devlin, he has a lot of baggage and a definite dark side, but they really couldn’t be more different. I could see why Amelia would be attracted to him, especially after everything she went through with and for Devlin.
The heavy atmosphere of Deep South wasn’t as pronounced in The Kingdom, but the creepiness of the minuscule town and the closed mentality of such a small community were portrayed rather excellently. Asher Falls had layers upon layers of shameful and dangerous secrets, and for some unknown reason, Amelia was at the very center of it all.
Amelia Gray is a highly unusual Urban Fantasy heroine. She is gentle, reserved and very quiet, trained to keep her emotions and reactions to herself. She never relies on sarcasm and her entire personality is influenced by her Southern upbringing. Perhaps she is not a real lady like her adoptive mother and her aunt, but she is, above all, polite – towards friends and enemies alike. My mother and aunt were very beautiful women, exuding a bygone femininity that smelled of honeysuckle, sandalwood and fresh linen. Papa, by contrast, smelled of the earth. Or was that me? To Mama’s horror, I often had little half moons of dirt beneath my nails, the odd leaf or twig stuck to my hair. Even wearing my Sunday best, a bit of graveyard seemed to cling to me.
Stevens’s prose is lush and gorgeous, intense and heartbreaking. Her characters come alive so easily, and her talent for creating an eerie atmosphere is enormous. Truth be told, there aren’t that many Urban Fantasy authors like her. With her talent, she could write anything she chooses, anything at all, which is why I’m especially proud that she opted for my favorite genre.
I’m supposed to read the third book, The Prophet, with my friend Heidi over at Rainy Day Ramblings and I’m already so excited about it. If you’re a fan of dark, eerily beautiful stories that will keep you awake at night, please give this series a try. It was, after all, recommended to me by Ann Aguirre, and she’s a lady who knows what she’s talking about. (less)
It’s been a year since Agent Eliza Braun was pulled from the field due to insubordination (temper, temper, Miss Braun!) and sentenced to work in the a...moreIt’s been a year since Agent Eliza Braun was pulled from the field due to insubordination (temper, temper, Miss Braun!) and sentenced to work in the archives with Mr. Wellington Thornhill Books, the archivist. Nothing remotely exciting has happened since their very first case together, the one involving a secret society, and Miss Braun is starting to become restless. She needn’t worry, though, since trouble is attracted to her just as Eliza is attracted to trouble, and before you know it, our dashing archivist and our colonial pepperpot find themselves entangled in a complicated case involving missing suffragists, teleportation, ghosts from the past and quite a few explosions. Of course, Eliza and Welly aren’t supposed to be working outside the archives at all, but the field agent assigned to the case has been neglecting his duties in the worst possible way and meanwhile, women from the movement are still disappearing.
Unlike the first installment, The Janus Affair was harder to get into. The beginning was pretty slow compared to the explosive opening scene of Phoenix Rising. I struggled with the first 80 pages for five days straight, giving up and then forcing myself to restart, only to give up again after 10 pages or so. But when things finally started moving, when Eliza and Welly reminded me just how extraordinarily witty (and dysfunctional) they are, I wanted to kick myself for waiting so long to push through the beginning.
I should have remembered how wonderful these two characters are when they interact, how amusing when they snap at each other and, despite all their bickering, how protective they become when a third party goes after one of them. ”Your faith in my abilities does inspire me as would Helen’s visage,” snipped Wellington. “Helen had a thousand ships covering her backside, mate.” Eliza shrugged, motioning to him. “I have an Archivist who’s afraid of guns. You figure out who has the better deal.”
There is more of everything in The Janus Affair: more action, more humor, more inventions, more peculiar occurrences, more witty banter and (ahem!) more unresolved sexual tension. My poor Books is too nerdy and shy to admit to himself, let alone to Eliza, how he really feels, but the arrival of Eliza’s old flame from New Zealand might just push him over the edge. Everyone has secrets, right? Even our gentle archivist has a surprise or two in store.
This, my darlings, is steampunk at its best! I’m not exactly an expert on the genre, but I do recognize quality when I see it, and spouses Pip Ballantine and Tee Morris delivered quality work not once, but two times. From the language (especially language!) and society to the intriguing inventions, even the smallest detail is in its place. If you intend to read one steampunk in your life, this is what you should choose. Ballantine and Morris know what they’re doing.
4.5 stars. When did Taheref Mafi go from being a debut author that intrigued and confused me to being on my very short list of authors whose works I b...more4.5 stars. When did Taheref Mafi go from being a debut author that intrigued and confused me to being on my very short list of authors whose works I buy without a second thought? I think Shatter Me is one of those books that kept changing and changing in my mind long after I finished reading it, becoming better every day, as it endured the test of time. I read a lot and I forget easily, it is a simple fact, but Tahereh Mafi never allowed herself to be forgotten. And she just sealed the deal with Unravel Me, which I was fortunate enough to read ahead of time and which turned out to be my second favorite book in 2012.
I didn’t like it… getting to know Warner, seeing a different side of him (not a better side, mind you, just one that made him clearer to me), and actually considering that he might be a better choice for our Juliette… Nope, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit. How can I feel so much love for a sociopath, a man damaged beyond salvation? Warner is cruel and frightening, but he also understands Juliette better than Adam ever could. The two of them are so alike, both abused by their parents, both living with so much ugliness on their conscience.
The life I know now is the only one that matters. The suffocation, the luxury, the sleepless nights, and the dead bodies. I’ve always been taught to focus on power and pain, gaining and inflicting. I grieve nothing. I take everything.
Because Juliette’s voice is so distinctive and closely connected to Mafi’s writing style in any reader’s mind, Mafi changed her writing completely for Warner, and it is the smartest thing she could have done. I’m not just talking about the absence of poetic descriptions and (in)famous strikethroughs, even the rhythm and sentence structure are different. This story from Warner’s point of view is clean and delivered with military precision, skillfully written and tightly controlled. Tahereh Mafi gave him a voice so unlike Juliette’s that there is no mistaking the two, and the contrast is made even more obvious by Juliette’s diary entries Warner discovers in her old cell room.
My mind is a warehouse of carefully controlled human emotions. I can almost see my brain as it functions, filing thoughts and images away. I lock away the things that do not serve me. I focus only on what needs to be done: the basic components of survival and the myriad things I must manage throughout the day.
And these diary entries… these words Juliette wrote down while she was in the asylum… even though there aren’t many of them, each and every one is so completely and utterly heartbreaking, her every thought, every memory is a new knife that finds its way into the reader’s heart.
This unusually long e-novella that takes place between the events of Shatter Me and Unravel MEe is an absolute must-read for all Mafi’s fans. If I wasn’t in the habit of reserving my five-star ratings only for books that really and truly take my breath away, I would have given Destroy Me those five shiny crowns. This way, it gets four and a half, but I need you to know it came very close, my friends. Very close indeed.
Reading Out of the Easy by Ruta Sepetys lead me to conclude that there aren’t enough YA books set in a) the 1950’s and b) New Orleans. And yet, only a...moreReading Out of the Easy by Ruta Sepetys lead me to conclude that there aren’t enough YA books set in a) the 1950’s and b) New Orleans. And yet, only a writer of Sepetys’ skill and confidence could have successfully written such a story. Out of the Easy is a murder mystery first, a coming of age story second, and about twenty other things in between. It is a story of great complexity, and yet paradoxically, it is also a very simple one.
With Out of the Easy, Sepetys’ confirmed that she’s not merely a writer of YA historical fiction, but that she’s a Writer and that she measures up to the very best. She is able to make her authorial voice completely invisible, thus allowing her characters to fully form and take center stage.
Out of the Easy rose from its pages to create a story that unfolded right in front of my eyes, more like a play than anything else. I wasn’t a reader, not exactly - Sepetys had allowed me to become a spectator instead. All I had to do was sit back and watch as the setting materialized in front of me into a full audio-visual and olfactory experience.
The characters weren’t far behind. As soon as Josie Moraine spoke her first sentence (“My mother’s a prostitute.”), I knew we were going to get along, and we did. Each of us has wanted to be someone else somewhere else at least once in our lives, but for Josie, it’s a matter of survival. All she ever wanted was to be normal, to be able to live and learn like everyone else, without her mother’s constant malicious meddling. Josie’s voice was clear as bell, and she spoke to me until her problems became my problems and her heartache my heartache as well.
Willie said normal was boring and that I should be grateful that I had a touch of spice. She said no one cared about boring people, and when they died, they were forgotten, like something that slips behind the dresser. Sometimes I wanted to slip behind the dresser. Being normal sounded perfectly wonderful.
But Josie was not alone – each of the characters was so unique, so alive and vibrant – that they completely took over the story and left their author far behind. Or so it seemed.
This is where Ruta Sepetys’ skill truly shows. Her writing style is so clear, so completely transparent that it never gets in the way of the story. This ability (or rather a choice) makes even the characters’ emotions seem more genuine, not forced or manipulated, but as real as yours or mine.
It’s best that you go into this book knowing as little as possible, not because it hides some staggering surprise, but because its beauty is almost impossible to put into words. The only way is to experience everything for yourself, and if you ask me, that’s exactly what you should do.
Update 04/17/12: Stop by The Nocturnal Library to read a guest post by Elizabeth Norris and enter for a chance to win a hardcover copy of Unraveling....moreUpdate 04/17/12: Stop by The Nocturnal Library to read a guest post by Elizabeth Norris and enter for a chance to win a hardcover copy of Unraveling.
I never give five stars easily, but I'd give this book ten if I could.
I always feel this strange sense of accomplishment when I discover a book I can add to my all-time favorites. There aren’t many books that mean so much to me and that I keep going back to over and over again. I take that short list and adding books to it very seriously. Therefore, I needed to give myself some time before reviewing this because I was afraid that my initial reaction was entirely emotional and that my enthusiasm will drop once I calm down. I slept on it, I finished a very different book by one of my favorite authors, but none of that changed how I feel. If anything, I am now convinced more than ever that I found something truly special in Unravelling (that’s two Ls in the UK edition, only one in the US).
Janelle Tanner is living with her parents and her younger brother, working as a lifeguard at the beach and dating a gorgeous and extremely popular high school senior, Nick. Her life looks perfect on the outside, but on the inside, her mother is bipolar and needs to be taken care of, and her father, no matter how wonderful, has a job that’s keeping him away most of the time. He’s the head of counterintelligence in the FBI’s office in San Diego, and he just got a case that’s driving him and the other agents crazy. An explosive device has been discovered and it’s counting down days, but no matter how many experts they bring in, no one has any idea what it is or how to disarm it. As if that’s not enough, unidentifiable bodies, almost completely melted from radiation, are suddenly showing up everywhere. One of these bodies was found in the car that hit Janelle on her way home from work. She seemed more or less fine after the accident, but what no one knows, what no one would ever believe her, is that she died when the car hit her, and a stoner kid from her school, Ben Michaels, brought her back to life and healed her. Who is Ben? Where are all the bodies coming from? What’s going to happen when the countdown finally hits zero? Is it all somehow connected? Janelle and her best friend Alex always enjoyed ‘borrowing’ her father’s case files from his home office and discussing his cases, but this time, they may be in over their heads.
Elizabeth Norris’ writing is flawless. It doesn’t draw attention to itself, but it keeps you engaged and controls your emotions in a way that doesn’t make you feel manipulated. Unravelling is action-packed from start to finish, but that doesn’t mean that it lacks depth. It was truly heartbreaking, and I gave myself a headache from all the crying. If you think this is just another YA novel, think again, because Elizabeth Norris pulled no punches. She kept surprising me on every page, and each time I thought I had it all figured out, she did something entirely unexpected. It was like watching the awesome first season of Fringe all over again, but with a likeable heroine instead of Olivia.
Don’t you just love a girl who doesn’t spend all her time consciously making one mistake after another because she lacks the backbone to do the right thing? That’s our Janelle for you, a girl who knows exactly what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to make it happen. She’d been a victim once and she has no intention of being one ever again, so she thinks hard about every choice she makes and doesn’t allow herself to be influenced by anyone else’s opinion. She’s my new character I want to be best friends with. I always expect YA heroines to disappoint me sooner or later, because they almost always do, but with Janelle, that never happened. I can count on the fingers of one hand the characters that impressed me as much as she did.
(Did you guys notice how I avoided writing about Ben as much as possible? I'm trying to be serious here and I don't think gushing about that boy would help my cause much. But rest assured, he IS perfect.)
I think I’ve made my opinion pretty clear: I cannot recommend this highly enough. I can’t wait to find out how other people will feel about it. Do yourselves a favor and preorder this one, you won’t regret it.
A copy of this book was kindly provided by the publisher, HarperCollins UK, for review purposes.
Reviewing this book feels much like walking through a minefield. (Not that I know what that feels like, but I can imagine, you know.) On the one hand,...moreReviewing this book feels much like walking through a minefield. (Not that I know what that feels like, but I can imagine, you know.) On the one hand, I can’t reveal too much of the plot. I can’t reveal almost anything, really, lest I ruin the experience for you guys. On the other hand, I have to write just enough to make you want to pick this book up because it’s one you don’t want to miss. Trust me. I suppose I could just point you to Maggie Stiefvater’s wonderful review and leave it to her to convince you, but I’m not that much of a coward. *coughs* I just did that! *coughs*
So here goes nothing…
I don’t normally read historical fiction unless it’s highly recommended. Code Name Verity was, directly or indirectly, recommended to me by two of my trusted friends, Chachic and Jo, and, as I already mentioned, my favorite young adult author Maggie Stiefvater. And of course they were right.
Code Name Verity is a story about two best friends, Maddie and Queenie, fighting in World War II. They probably never would have met in peacetime, as they come from entirely different circles of society: Queenie is Scottish royalty who grew up in a castle, while Maddie is a bike shop owner’s granddaughter. That didn’t stop them from becoming best friends while serving together in WAAF (Women’s Auxiliary Air Force), and staying close even when the war took them in different directions. All Maddie ever wanted was to fly airplanes. She was in training before the war and when the war started, she waited patiently for them to accept female pilots, which eventually they did. Queenie’s talents lie elsewhere: she is fluent in both German and French and able to momentarily slip into any role, be herself one second, and someone entirely different the next. Although these two have very little in common on the surface, deep down they are both incredibly strong, intelligent and compassionate women.
But for me, the most fascinating character was Queenie’s capturer, Hauptsturmfürer von Linden. He starts as pure evil, of course, but as the story progresses, we are offered small details of his life that give him an entirely different face, one that is complex and multi-layered and that causes the reader to be just as conflicted as Queenie. I don’t know what I expected, but he just looked like anybody - like the sort of chap who would come into the shop and buy a motorbike for his lad’s 16th birthday – like your headmaster.
Our story starts when Queenie gets captured by the Gestapo in France. Upon breaking her with torture and turning her into a collaborator, von Linden allows her to write down the events that led her to his cruel hands, and her written testimony is what we are given.
The narrative itself takes some getting used to. Queenie tells her present story in first person, but switches to third person and focuses on Maddie every time she talks about the past. It was a little strange at first, having the narrator talk about herself in third person, but I soon realized that it was an excellent way for Wein to help her readers adapt to constant alternations between the past and the present.
Every once in a while you know that you’ve stumbled upon a classic. Code Name Verity might have been published in 2012, but there is no doubt in my mind that it will endure the test of time. It has the weight (although not quite the genius) of The Book Thief. I'm sure it will receive awards and critical acclaim.
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