I was excited to read Nicole Williams first traditionally published book—I’d been reading her independent stuff for years—but I doubt I made it past 1I was excited to read Nicole Williams first traditionally published book—I’d been reading her independent stuff for years—but I doubt I made it past 10% before I quit.
There are YA books and there are YA books . . . When the MC calls someone a “butt munch,” it’s a clear sign you’re dealing with the latter. #nothankyouplease....more
When I found a graphic novelization of ANNE OF GREEN GABLES on NetGalley, there was no thought involved: I saw it, I downloaded it. The end.
Why wouldWhen I found a graphic novelization of ANNE OF GREEN GABLES on NetGalley, there was no thought involved: I saw it, I downloaded it. The end.
Why would I hesitate? AoGG was one of the first books I ever loved, AND the art looked lovely.
It was a win/win . . . Right?
Sadly, no. In fact, barely 10% into it, I refused to continue.
You: But, but . . . Anne!
Me: I know.
It was my love of Anne that was behind my refusal to finish.
Anne Shirley is a once in a lifetime kind of character. She's so unique and beloved that other writers don't even try to imitate her. She is the opposite of stock. She is whimsy and hope and, yes, drama personified.
Which is why when met with this empty-eyed, soulless version of Anne:
I was concerned.
And several pages later, when introduced to a whining, temper tantrum-throwing version of Anne:
That was continually reinforced:
I decided that I wanted no part of this Anne Shirley, lest she damage the memory of the Anne I love.
You haters can hate all you want, I DO NOT CARE. I will read this, and I will probably love it, b/c Stephenie Meyer is an effing Rock Star as far as IYou haters can hate all you want, I DO NOT CARE. I will read this, and I will probably love it, b/c Stephenie Meyer is an effing Rock Star as far as I'm concerned.
This is the one PNR in the group, though I didn't know that when I started, and it's not an OTT sex, sex, sex (noneReviewed by: Rabid Reads
DNF at 42%.
This is the one PNR in the group, though I didn't know that when I started, and it's not an OTT sex, sex, sex (none at all by the time I DNF-ed, actually) focused PNR, so it felt more UF than PNR.
As UF as a book can be when most of it takes place in a weird steampunk parallel dimension type place, anyway . . .
The world was decent---not overly gadgety. The plot, also decent. BUT. The heroine . . . was less than inspiring.
I know women make bad relationship decisions all the time. I know when they finally get out of it, they're broken and scared, and it takes awhile to recover and open themselves up to trusting another man.
What I don't want to do is read about it.
It annoys the hell out of me to see a damaged woman continually push away a good (and sexy as hell) man, b/c burned before, blah blah, not ready, when WE ALL KNOW she's going to give in eventually.
Even more so when she starts heavily flirting with another man.
"My last boyfriend was a major jerk, and I don't want a new one, so I'm going to lead TWO men around by their noses, b/c I'm so confused, and it's kind of fun, too."
So I'm only 12% into this thing, but as far as I can tell, it's about librarians. SPY librarians. Spy librarian THIEVES. Spy librarian THIEVES who can travel to PARALLEL DIMENSIONS for the express purpose of stealing books unique to that world.
And depending on how much chaos exists in an individual world, DRAGONS might show up to breathe firey order into said chaos. (<------I don't actually know yet how the dragons correct the balance, just that they do, but WHO CARES?? B/c DRAGONS).
Chaos-filled worlds are also prone to having a variety of other supernatural creatures (like FAE), as well as BIOMUTATIONS and technology that doesn't work the way one would expect.
The world of THE COURIER is a future dystopian version of a combined San Francisco and Los Angeles (I think), whereReviewed by: Rabid Reads
DNF at 15%
The world of THE COURIER is a future dystopian version of a combined San Francisco and Los Angeles (I think), where space is presumably at a premium, b/c people are building up instead of out.
Our MC (Kris) is a courier--she delivers packages on a motorcycle while wearing kick-ass, high tech riding gear--in this brave new world, where an informal caste system based on seven complete and separate levels of the city determines an individual's quality of life (melodrama included for later reference):
People that worked or lived on Level 1, which used to be open air and grass and trees, had the sense to stay out of any water that managed to drip its way down there. Rumor had it the stuff could kill you in three days if it touched your skin. I used to live in that hellhole, so I knew different. I even got desperate enough to drink it once, when I ran away from home. I had peeled the moss off an old brick wall, hoping it would act like a filter, my hands shaking from hunger and thirst, and squeezed the lifesaving fluid from it. It must have worked; I’m still here. Maybe I just got lucky. It didn’t matter. I was never going back there.
But despite moving up a level and getting a decent job, it didn't take long to figure out things were about to turn nasty for Kris:
“It’s just a short run, a pickup on Level 4 and a delivery on Level 2. You can take the paperwork home with you, honey, and drop it on my desk in the morning.” I just stared at her. Having Dispatch let you take the paperwork home with you was like being plucked off the street and taught how to fly a shuttle to and from the Sat Cities. Shit like that didn’t happen . . .
Initially, I was intrigued, but it took about two seconds for me to become disgusted with Kris's bad attitude and double standards. I can't recall a more negative or obnoxiously self-pitying character. I'm not saying she hadn't had a hard life, that her cynical outlook wasn't warranted--all the best characters have survived any number of Bad Things and/or overcome adversity.
They don't waste time feeling sorry for themselves or on melodramatic remembrances. They don't bitch and moan about every, single minuscule aspect of their existence.
1. If they came at all.
B/c poor, poor Kris is a low level and not a priority.
2. Almost pleasant.
Nothing is ever pleasant for poor, poor Kris. Almost is as good as it gets.
3. People would be out doing whatever it was with all their cash.
Poor, poor Kris wouldn't know.
4. Something about congestion and pollution and death tolls.
*EDVARD MUNCH FACE*
And that, my friends, was just one page.
Worse than that, she's all talk:
“I’ve been waiting forever. What, did you decide to walk all the way here? And why did you take the wall? The aisles are way faster.” Aww, hell. Why did he have to be an asshole as well as a freak? I took a deep breath and held my tongue for the second time in the last few minutes. There was no point in getting reported and having Dispatch even more upset with me. All this for a few extra bucks? I should have just gone home.
That was her second "should've just gone home" inner monologue (the first was when she took the last minute delivery), but she was too scared of Dispatch to do anything besides rant internally.
ALSO, she likes to name-call, but, again, never out loud. *flares nostrils*
Beyond my hatred of the main character, the writing was . . . pretty awful.
The chapters were short and choppy. As soon as I acclimated to one POV, it would change to another, often covering the same time period. The shifts were abrupt and sometimes confusing, especially when I would find myself in the mind of a psychopath.
I probably could have eventually adjusted to the POV changes, but the weird fixation and the various and redundant use of "gut" pushed me over the edge.
The third time Kris felt her gut clench (at only 8% into the book), I did a word search and discovered it was actually only the second time. The first mention of her gut had to do with it burning. My bad. Beyond those first three, there were EIGHT more:
...low flame burning in my gut... ...my gut clenched... I felt my gut clench... ...and the food in my gut had turned into rock. ...twisted its tentacles into my gut. ...sharp thrill settled into my gut. ...a scream tore from my gut. ...the anger building in my gut... ...had been churning in my gut... My gut clenched... ...regret again settled into my gut.
There were also four "gutted" men, "years of built up fish guts," one head driven into someone else's gut, one gun pointed at a gut, and one assumption that "Quincey would probably just gut him." <------I'd take that bet.
And I'm done. THE COURIER by Gerard Brandt was not for me. I'm a character-driven reader, so hating the main character would've been insurmountable by itself--my dislike of the writing was bonus. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Not recommended.
BLACK CITY SAINT was one of my most anticipated new UFs. With a description involving Fae, dragons, and prohibitionReviewed by: Rabid Reads
DNF at 16%.
BLACK CITY SAINT was one of my most anticipated new UFs. With a description involving Fae, dragons, and prohibition era Chicago, how could it not be?
However . . . A lot of you already know that I majored in English, more specifically literature, and even more specifically, British literature. Most of my required reading was wonderful.
But after Chaucer's TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, my least favorite work was Spenser's THE FAERIE QUEENE. It was terribly boring, and oh so very loooooong.
Guess which book BLACK CITY SAINT has as its foundation: THE FAERIE QUEENE.
Holy knights and dragons and cat-eating wolfy changelings and BLAH.
The story itself had tremendous potential, even after I figured out (no hard task, the hints were obvious) that George was indeed St. George, but 16% felt like 40 - 50%, and I'm finding that I loathe plots focused on a cursed individual forced to relive the death of his reincarnated One True Love over and over again.
Of course I've heard of China Miéville. Everyone has heard of him. BUT. I haven't actually read him. Yet.
Then today I was reading this Ursula K. Le GuOf course I've heard of China Miéville. Everyone has heard of him. BUT. I haven't actually read him. Yet.
Then today I was reading this Ursula K. Le Guin interview: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/09/boo... (which is fabulous, btw), and she--YES, Le Guin herself--named EMBASSYTOWN as one of her all time favorite Science Fiction reads, so . . . I decided it's time to see what all the fuss is about.
Check out the blurb:
In the far future, humans have colonized a distant planet, home to the enigmatic Ariekei, sentient beings famed for a language unique in the universe, one that only a few altered human ambassadors can speak.
Avice Benner Cho, a human colonist, has returned to Embassytown after years of deep-space adventure. She cannot speak the Ariekei tongue, but she is an indelible part of it, having long ago been made a figure of speech, a living simile in their language.
When distant political machinations deliver a new ambassador to Arieka, the fragile equilibrium between humans and aliens is violently upset. Catastrophe looms, and Avice is torn between competing loyalties—to a husband she no longer loves, to a system she no longer trusts, and to her place in a language she cannot speak--but which speaks through her, whether she likes it or not.
1. I have no idea what that "living simile" thing even means. 2. I can still understand it's (part of) quite a conundrum. 3. And the whole thing sounds pretty damn cool.
I'm going to keep this one short and simple. A couple years ago, I tried to read the first installment of Nelson's GRIMM AGENCReviewed by: Rabid Reads
I'm going to keep this one short and simple. A couple years ago, I tried to read the first installment of Nelson's GRIMM AGENCY series, Free Agent. It did not go well:
"She didn't look like a princess. She looked like a college intern for a radio station. Five foot three, strawberry blonde, and a complexion that could sure as hell use work. Plus she was packing the freshman five on her hips, along with the sophomore seven on her thighs and, well, you get the idea."
My best friend in high school was a ballerina, and to this day, I'm pretty sure she still struggles with bulimia. Insensitive statements like that one could send her spiraling down another another binge-and-purge cycle.
Not to mention the 10% of college-aged women who struggle with eating disorders . . . *eye twitches*
I'm a strong believer in second chances, so when a copy of THE REBURIALISTS fell in my lap, I decided to give it a go.
It went about as well as the last time:
Beneath me, my date from last night’s champagne ball cursed in Greek. The only part I understood for certain was my name, Brynner, and that her name was most definitely not Athena. Athena would be her sister, my date from the night before.
Seriously, dude? DON'T DATE SIBLINGS. It's tacky. Ugh.
But it didn't stop there:
1. *throws head back and shrieks with RAGE*
2. You know how much fun it is to watch rogue-like characters on screen? Han Solo, Captain Kirk, Harvey Spector, etc.?
It's significantly less fun to share headspace with one.
3. Women talk. *flares nostrils*
I know, it'd be so much easier if they didn't. Don't hate the player, hate the game, right? *mutters* Asshole . . .
I just can't.
And so, I think it's best if Mr. Nelson and I permanently part ways. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try him on. I seem to be a minority in my fury over his callous remarks about female imperfection and stereotyping women as jealous shrews, but, hey, one woman's insults are another's oh-so-funneh jokes. I leave it in your hands to decide on which side of the fence you fall. #nojudgement
WELP, that was a short-lived endeavor. Maybe I'll try it again at a later date, but first impressions are hard to negate, and man alive, this was a DOWELP, that was a short-lived endeavor. Maybe I'll try it again at a later date, but first impressions are hard to negate, and man alive, this was a DOOZY.
Yes. A doozy. That's what I said.
I was willing to overlook the heroine's one-track mind--preoccupation with *ahem* companionship is a common theme in sci-fi involving space travel. Kind of like getting out of jail. But when she walked into a bar and EVERYONE, I'm talking upwards of a dozen+ bar patrons, unabashedly want to jump her . . .
This one I was almost positive I would LOVE, based on the preview I read on NetGalley, but when I got ahold of theReviewed by: Rabid Reads
DNF at 46%.
This one I was almost positive I would LOVE, based on the preview I read on NetGalley, but when I got ahold of the whole book, after those first couple of exciting chapters . . . Blah.
Poppy was nuts in that sad, poor, little rich girl way, Wink was nuts in that eccentric, weird family/family secrets kinds of way, and Midnight was just trying to keep his head above water, caught between them.
The common denominator between the two girls was Wink's older brother, with whom Poppy was (is?) obsessed, and, to my mind, Wink's oddness started to take on a The Perks of Being a Wallflower feel, so I started wondering if Brother was more sinister then he was being painted in the girls' recollections . . .
I couldn't bring myself to care enough to keep reading and find out. B/c the meandering, seemingly nonsensical path we were taken on, presumably to get to the truth, was . . . Blah.
Probably the most beautiful book cover of the year, though. I'll have to remember to add it to my "cover-is-a-lie" bookshelf on Goodreads.
If you've ever wondered how much of the annoying dialogue in the HOUSE OF NIGHT series the daughter of the mother/daughter writing duo was responsiDNF
If you've ever wondered how much of the annoying dialogue in the HOUSE OF NIGHT series the daughter of the mother/daughter writing duo was responsible for, here's your answer: ALL of it.
And without Mommy to at least keep the plot on track, this was an absolute disaster. I think I made it about a third of the way in before I couldn't take any more. TSTL heroine, idiotic hero, ridikkulous mythology, just STAHP....more