Warren Rochelle's Blog, page 14
January 1, 2019
Wisdom for the New Year from Neil Gaiman
“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”
--Neil Gaiman
--Neil Gaiman
December 28, 2018
Some Thoughts on Practical Magic, by Alice Hoffman
Practical Magic by Alice HoffmanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
"Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to . your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can" (286). Love, magic, family, pain, loss, always an outsider, and yet, happy endings are possible.
Gillian and Sally want to escape the "musty house" and "exotic concoctions and [the] crowd of black cats" of their aunts. They try. They marry, they run away, one raises two daughters, and yet they come back...
A worthy sequel to The Rules of Magic. The movie I saw first--not bad.
Recommended.
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December 27, 2018
Some thoughts on The Rules of Magic, by Alice Hoffman
The Rules of Magic by Alice HoffmanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I'm am now an Alice Hoffman fan, and am looking forward to reading the sequel to this novel (which was written before this prequel). The back cover sort of covers what I would say myself: "The Rules of Magic takes us on a dreamy, unforgettable journey, both thrilling and exquisite, real and fantastic--reminding us that the only remedy for being human is to be true to yourself." And the last line: "The only remedy for love is to love more."
This tale of the Owens family, for whom love is a curse, is set in the 1960s in New York, focusing on the three children of Susanna Owens, "Difficult Franny, with skin as pale as milk and blood-red hair; shy and beautiful Jet, who can read other people's thoughts; and charismatic Vincent, who began looking for trouble on the day he could walk" (back cover). Their mother, knowing of the old curse, dating to the 1600s, forbids them to truck with anything magical, and to never, ever, fall in love. This does not happen, and the children for who and what they are, and they find love, real and painful, sometimes even fatal, as they discover their peculiar strengths, their magics.
Once upon is how this novel begins, and off we go, into a fairy tale that is also a human tale.
Recommended.
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September 15, 2018
Some Thoughts on Night and Silence, by Seanan McGuire
Night and Silence by Seanan McGuireMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I received this latest installment in the ongoing adventures of hero and knight errant, Sir October Daye, and her chosen family 3 days ago--and I have been reading nonstop, more or less, since. I am a big McGuire and this did not disappoint. Gillian, her now-human daughter, has been kidnapped again and, of course, Toby will go seeking her, along with May and Quentin, and the surprisingly fragile Tybalt, suffering from the fey version of PTSD (after #11, how could he not?). Lots of blood, grief, loss, betrayals, monsters, of course, the quest--done well and very satisfyingly so. McGuire fans will not be disappointed.
What I do want to note here are the layers here that we are able to experience--and not just in Toby, but in Tybalt, Gillian, and the Luidaeg--the pain, loss, grief, sacrifice, history, love and its power and its price. Yes, these are in the other books--but for some reason, these layers resonate. Well done.
A request: I love that this universe is queer-friendly--Quentin and his boyfriend, January and her wife, May and Jaz--can we see more of this? Quentin and Dean together?
Recommended.
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September 10, 2018
A Very Brief Look at The Brightest Fell, by Seanan McGuire
The Brightest Fell by Seanan McGuireMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I'm a big Seanan McGuire fan. I loved it. The Brightest Fell feels darker than some of the earlier titles in this very successful series, and I feel darker is coming--but it fits. This is how the story unfolds. Well done.
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June 20, 2018
A Short Review of The River City Chronicles, by J. Scott Coatsworth
a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4..." style="float: left; padding-right: 20px">
The River City Chronicles by J. Scott Coatsworth
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
The smells of boiling sauce, pasta, garlic, and nutmeg, rosemary, and oregano and other herbs permeate the air in a little restaurant on Folsom Boulevard in Sacramento. Welcome to Ragazzi (in English, the boys), the restaurant Matteo Bianco inherited from his uncle, and “the ticket out of Italy” for Matteo and his husband, Diego Bellei. But there are only three customers… and only two more for the night.
So begins The River City Chronicles, by J. Scott Coatsworth, and I couldn’t put it down.
Diego and Matteo are not sure they are going to make it, and are afraid they will have to go back to Italy, their tales between their legs. But Diego has an idea, una scuola di cucina, an Italian cooking school. And so, this novel of love and family, and cooking and secrets and a little magic, begins, when “a group of strangers meet at Ragazzi… for a cooking lesson that will change them all.” These strangers will find connections to each other and their lives will intertwine as “a bit of magic touches each of them” (back cover), and none of them will be the same.
These strangers make up an intriguing cast of characters. Besides Matteo and Diego, there is Dave, a human resources consultant, who has lost his partner; Carmelina, recently widowed; Marcos, a web designer who is getting too old for hook ups; Ben, a trans writer working on the Great American Novel; Marissa, a teenager kicked for being bisexual; and Sam and Brad, a May-September couple. Brad runs the local LGBT center, and Sam seven years older, writes suspense novels. With this motley crew, Coatsworth creates complex characters, all too human, with flaws and foibles, contradictions and ambiguities, and secrets, both small and large. And secrets have a way of being found out. Some secrets are burdens of pain, some when exposed, will bring pain and heartache, and some need to be known.
River City is told in short chapters, an admitted influence of the “amazing Armistead Maupin” and his Tales of the City, which are, in part, a love song to San Francisco. So it is here, River City is Coatsworth’s love song to Sacramento. In both novels, the city itself becomes a character, and these urban geographies are shaped by, and shape the lives of, the characters and who they love and how and when. Is it just a coincidence this person came into one’s life at this time and place? If we have lived elsewhere—if the River City group of strangers had not seen the flyers, and didn’t go to the class, then their lives would be quite different. The connections they make in this class become the bonds that make a found family, even as the no-longer strangers negotiate the families into which they were born.
In addition to being a family novel, River City is also a love story, or rather, interconnected love stories: between the various couples, between friends, between parents and children, and sometimes this love is rejected or pushed away. Love is changed and challenged by the past and its secrets. River City is also a fairy tale, in both senses of the word, as one focus of the novel is on its gay characters and their relationships, and such gay issues and themes as the often complicated and tense relationships between LGBT teenagers and their parents, transgender acceptance and transphobia, and gay foster parenting. There is also fairy magic, described by Coatsworth in the introduction as magic realism. The green flyer announcing the cooking school sparkles when left on a table on the restaurant and this flyer appears and reappears, as it seems to find the strangers who come to the first cooking class. The sparkles appear and reappear, as well, as perhaps conduits of energy, of connection, of love waiting to be discovered. Other magic is alluded to, as when Brad remembers his job before director of the LGBT center, working for a Republican state senator, when he “came upon a strange medallion that allowed him to see what other people around him really thought and it wasn’t pretty” (26). Magic is a both a connecting and a revealing force and it is a metaphor for connecting, for knowing.
Some initially might find this large group of characters a little confusing, but Coatsworth provides an annotated list, which explains who they are and how these people are connected. Also, this is the nature of the novel—as these people find and come to know each other, in the cooking classes, in conversations in bed, over coffee, at dinner, so does the reader, as we all come to know the people in our lives. Cooking itself is a controlling metaphor, as a creative act, of various ingredients coming together to make a new whole, a new thing. Here, for these people who are strangers in that first class, they become a family.
For me, River City was a page turner and I was captivated by these people, their ups and downs, their connections and disconnections, their reconnections, and how they love each other. I was crying at the end, but not all tears come from sadness. I also want to note that while this is a queer-themed novel, I would argue it is accessible to those outside the queer community: love and family are human themes.
The recipes at the end are a bonus! I can just smell that chicken cacciatore cooking.
Recommended.
View all my reviews
The River City Chronicles by J. Scott CoatsworthMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
The smells of boiling sauce, pasta, garlic, and nutmeg, rosemary, and oregano and other herbs permeate the air in a little restaurant on Folsom Boulevard in Sacramento. Welcome to Ragazzi (in English, the boys), the restaurant Matteo Bianco inherited from his uncle, and “the ticket out of Italy” for Matteo and his husband, Diego Bellei. But there are only three customers… and only two more for the night.
So begins The River City Chronicles, by J. Scott Coatsworth, and I couldn’t put it down.
Diego and Matteo are not sure they are going to make it, and are afraid they will have to go back to Italy, their tales between their legs. But Diego has an idea, una scuola di cucina, an Italian cooking school. And so, this novel of love and family, and cooking and secrets and a little magic, begins, when “a group of strangers meet at Ragazzi… for a cooking lesson that will change them all.” These strangers will find connections to each other and their lives will intertwine as “a bit of magic touches each of them” (back cover), and none of them will be the same.
These strangers make up an intriguing cast of characters. Besides Matteo and Diego, there is Dave, a human resources consultant, who has lost his partner; Carmelina, recently widowed; Marcos, a web designer who is getting too old for hook ups; Ben, a trans writer working on the Great American Novel; Marissa, a teenager kicked for being bisexual; and Sam and Brad, a May-September couple. Brad runs the local LGBT center, and Sam seven years older, writes suspense novels. With this motley crew, Coatsworth creates complex characters, all too human, with flaws and foibles, contradictions and ambiguities, and secrets, both small and large. And secrets have a way of being found out. Some secrets are burdens of pain, some when exposed, will bring pain and heartache, and some need to be known.
River City is told in short chapters, an admitted influence of the “amazing Armistead Maupin” and his Tales of the City, which are, in part, a love song to San Francisco. So it is here, River City is Coatsworth’s love song to Sacramento. In both novels, the city itself becomes a character, and these urban geographies are shaped by, and shape the lives of, the characters and who they love and how and when. Is it just a coincidence this person came into one’s life at this time and place? If we have lived elsewhere—if the River City group of strangers had not seen the flyers, and didn’t go to the class, then their lives would be quite different. The connections they make in this class become the bonds that make a found family, even as the no-longer strangers negotiate the families into which they were born.
In addition to being a family novel, River City is also a love story, or rather, interconnected love stories: between the various couples, between friends, between parents and children, and sometimes this love is rejected or pushed away. Love is changed and challenged by the past and its secrets. River City is also a fairy tale, in both senses of the word, as one focus of the novel is on its gay characters and their relationships, and such gay issues and themes as the often complicated and tense relationships between LGBT teenagers and their parents, transgender acceptance and transphobia, and gay foster parenting. There is also fairy magic, described by Coatsworth in the introduction as magic realism. The green flyer announcing the cooking school sparkles when left on a table on the restaurant and this flyer appears and reappears, as it seems to find the strangers who come to the first cooking class. The sparkles appear and reappear, as well, as perhaps conduits of energy, of connection, of love waiting to be discovered. Other magic is alluded to, as when Brad remembers his job before director of the LGBT center, working for a Republican state senator, when he “came upon a strange medallion that allowed him to see what other people around him really thought and it wasn’t pretty” (26). Magic is a both a connecting and a revealing force and it is a metaphor for connecting, for knowing.
Some initially might find this large group of characters a little confusing, but Coatsworth provides an annotated list, which explains who they are and how these people are connected. Also, this is the nature of the novel—as these people find and come to know each other, in the cooking classes, in conversations in bed, over coffee, at dinner, so does the reader, as we all come to know the people in our lives. Cooking itself is a controlling metaphor, as a creative act, of various ingredients coming together to make a new whole, a new thing. Here, for these people who are strangers in that first class, they become a family.
For me, River City was a page turner and I was captivated by these people, their ups and downs, their connections and disconnections, their reconnections, and how they love each other. I was crying at the end, but not all tears come from sadness. I also want to note that while this is a queer-themed novel, I would argue it is accessible to those outside the queer community: love and family are human themes.
The recipes at the end are a bonus! I can just smell that chicken cacciatore cooking.
Recommended.
View all my reviews
May 25, 2018
Rereading The Way Station, by Clifford D. Simak
a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1..." style="float: left; padding-right: 20px">
Way Station by Clifford D. Simak
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I love this book--often lyrical prose, the intersections between a 19th century man, the 20th century, the aliens, the watchers, the machine that made daydreams become real, the Talisman, Lucy.
I reread this book every so often and still it holds up, it's still beautiful and hopeful--that someone those out there will find us, and we and they will both be glad of it. I hope that the Talisman, or something like it, can be real--and we will be in communion with the "cosmic spiritual force," God, or whatever one calls it.
View all my reviews
Way Station by Clifford D. SimakMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I love this book--often lyrical prose, the intersections between a 19th century man, the 20th century, the aliens, the watchers, the machine that made daydreams become real, the Talisman, Lucy.
I reread this book every so often and still it holds up, it's still beautiful and hopeful--that someone those out there will find us, and we and they will both be glad of it. I hope that the Talisman, or something like it, can be real--and we will be in communion with the "cosmic spiritual force," God, or whatever one calls it.
View all my reviews
May 22, 2018
Thoughts on Point of Sighs, by Melissa Scott
Point of Sighs by Melissa ScottMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Satisfying indeed, as are all the others in this fine series of Astreiant and the pointsman, Nico Rathe, and his leman (spouse), Philip Eslingen of the City Guard. A hungry river spirit , the Riverdeme, has unbound and she wants blood. "Now the river seethes with vicious dogfish, mauled corpses are pulled from the water and Eslingen--peculiarly at risk from any watery threat--and Rathe must uncover the person who seeks to unleash [this] ancient evil" (back cover). A murder, another, rich in details of place and culture, and character--Scott has done it again.
Fans take note. Recommended indeed.
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May 21, 2018
A Short Response to Boy Erased: A Memoir of Identity, Faith, and Family, by Garrard Conley.
Boy Erased: A Memoir of Identity, Faith, and Family by Garrard ConleyMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
This a beautiful and heartbreaking book. Yes, I did know something of how it ends--he wouldn't be writing this book if he had not escaped conversion therapy. He does. "when faced with a harrowing and brutal journey; Garrard found the strength and understanding to survive and step out from a life lived in shadow and to search for his true self, empathy, and forgiveness" (back cover). I can only hope others in his situation are able to do the same.
Boy Erased is indeed a must-read.
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May 15, 2018
Some Thoughts on Circe, by Madeline Miller
a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3..." style="float: left; padding-right: 20px">
Circe by Madeline Miller
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
As did The Song of Achilles, Circe blew me away. Wow. To echo Mary Doria Russell, this novel is "written with power and grace, this enchanting, startling, gripping story casts a spell as strong as and magical as any created by the sorceress Circe" (back cover). Beautifully written, the reader is there with Circe as she tries to understand her place in this universe of both gods and mortals, of heroes and the ordinary. Yes, Circe is a goddess herself, but she is also a woman, alone and vulnerable in her exile, yet blessed with powerful magic. She faces down Athena to protect her son, is for a time a lover of Odysseus, and brings rough justice through transforming magic. This is a novel of "family rivalry, palace intrigue, love, and loss, as well as a celebration of indomitable female strength in a man's world" (front cover).
Highly recommended.
View all my reviews
Circe by Madeline MillerMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
As did The Song of Achilles, Circe blew me away. Wow. To echo Mary Doria Russell, this novel is "written with power and grace, this enchanting, startling, gripping story casts a spell as strong as and magical as any created by the sorceress Circe" (back cover). Beautifully written, the reader is there with Circe as she tries to understand her place in this universe of both gods and mortals, of heroes and the ordinary. Yes, Circe is a goddess herself, but she is also a woman, alone and vulnerable in her exile, yet blessed with powerful magic. She faces down Athena to protect her son, is for a time a lover of Odysseus, and brings rough justice through transforming magic. This is a novel of "family rivalry, palace intrigue, love, and loss, as well as a celebration of indomitable female strength in a man's world" (front cover).
Highly recommended.
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