In Empire of Storms, ish got real, and it certainly hit the fan. The overall plot progresses, schemes are machinated, and the wheel cogs slowly bringIn Empire of Storms, ish got real, and it certainly hit the fan. The overall plot progresses, schemes are machinated, and the wheel cogs slowly bring us to the finale book (with a random offshoot in the way, bleh).
Maas once again anticipated my criticism in the last book’s review, and the amount of implied telepathic communication between Rowan and Aelin plummeted, thank the gods. There is also an explanation offered that makes the eye rolling contrivances of the previous book plausible.
In this installment, Aelin has been denied by those who count in Terrasen as a reckless upstart. So she leaves to gather Terrasen an army, of thieves and assassins and life debts called in. She continues to outmaneuver and out-plot her court with surprises at every turn. I love how she’s always several paces ahead of everyone.
Also, I absolutely loved how Manon’s character arc has developed. The witch storyline finally pays off, and I love Manon as a counterpoint to Aelin. Speaking of storylines paying off, Dorian has finally found his groove and is an interesting character with depth, darkness, and royal poise. And together? Manon and this new Dorian make for a very intriguing power couple.
I also love Elide: no magical abilities, only her wits, and she’s still integral to the court and now Lorcan. Awesome.
This series is proving to be high fantasy with a focus on powerful (in every sense of the word) women and, increasingly, romance. Those kickbutt women keep popping up and filling out our cast of characters, and I have zero complaints.
My one tiny hang up with this series is its world building similarities to Maas’ other series. Intentional or not remains to be seen, but considering the minor differences in its Fae, I’m going with this being an alternate universe, but still, the Fae Mate aspect is a little much. But I’m being incredibly picky.
A very fast paced, well plotted installment, but I’m absolutely dreading the next one as it delays the inevitable show down in the seventh and last book.
Queen of Shadows was Maas at her best. I’m very happy to say that each book of this series really seems to grow. My criticisms are addressed as thoughQueen of Shadows was Maas at her best. I’m very happy to say that each book of this series really seems to grow. My criticisms are addressed as though Maas self assessed her own work and said, “I definitely need more women.” And boom. Did this novel provide.
So naturally, my favorite thing about this series is just how kickass its women are: especially in this novel, with the addition of three more kickass female characters: Lysandra the Courtesan, Elide — a crippled victim and partial witch, and Nesryn — a member of Chaol’s rebels and a soldier. Aelin takes off too: all that endless training of the past three novels in addition to her experience make her a masterful opponent, schemer, and queen. I love how she is always two steps ahead. I love how she is the clear leader of her court, and that they — even warrior, alpha males — submit to her, one way or another. Her sheer ability to lead makes this one fantastic series, and I’m so happy with where it’s going.
I’m going to share my biggest criticism which made my eyes roll a lot and kept this novel from earning a perfect five stars: what in the world is up with Aelin and Rowan’s silent communication? It was annoying in Heir of Fire, but it is out of control with what their expressions “seem to say” to each other. When her eyes alone inform him of her lack of underclothes, I didn’t know whether to laugh at the sheer audacity of the claim or injure myself with an epic eye roll. I’m hoping there is some sort of logical explanation and that there is actual telepathic communication happening or that it falls by the wayside because it is not necessary and detracts from any mildly rational person’s enjoyment of the series.
Miscellaneous Thoughts: -Dorian. Finally, he has so much potential to be interesting, and his future love interest... Fantastic. -The witches finally got interesting as well. -I’m so glad with how decisively this novel dealt with the Rifthold plots and is moving on to the bigger world/threats. -Aedion needs more attention.
If I continue to ignore Throne of Glass itself, Heir of Fire fits the classic second book paradigm. Picking up where Celaena plunged over the edgeIf I continue to ignore Throne of Glass itself, Heir of Fire fits the classic second book paradigm. Picking up where Celaena plunged over the edge into depression and working to link her Celaena persona to the truth of her birthright/heritage/identity/destiny/etc., this novel reaches into some very dark places and doesn’t shy away from the consequences of the life Celaena has led. I do very much admire how Maas explores the depression/PTSD effects these fantasy novel events would likely have on real people, and I think she bridged Celaena to Aelin satisfactorily.
While I enjoyed the ride and the character building that Maas does with Celaena, I had a hard time with the pacing of this novel. It felt very stop and go: the chapters/segments were brief, and as soon as they’d get to a good part, Maas would cut over to a boring part. I know a lot of that is to compel you to keep reading, and I assuredly fell for the ruse, but the character count was getting a little heavy. I also thought Dorian’s love interest was boring AF and hastily written as a plot device to compel the writing forward.
Overall, however, I’m quite pleased with this series. I really liked how Celaena made a platonic(!) male friend, but I do wish these Fae and/or humans had more immortal, kick ass females so that Celaena isn’t such an anomaly. The female characters currently consist of Celaena and a witch. The men go on and on.
Also, how is anyone not picturing Aedion as Thor? Or is that just my love of Chris Helmsworth? ...more
Crown of Midnight is everything you wanted Throne of Glass to be: Celaena is truly a fearsome assassin who puts aside frivolous gowns when it’s timeCrown of Midnight is everything you wanted Throne of Glass to be: Celaena is truly a fearsome assassin who puts aside frivolous gowns when it’s time to get down to business. The relationships are deeper, the characters are more three dimensional without clear right and wrong, and the threat more intimidating. Maas also stops referring to Celaena incessantly as “the assassin” in favor of her name which was a dramatic improvement, by far.
While Throne of Glass established the universe and characters, this second novel really lets everything take off running. I much preferred the romance angle between Celaena and Chaol versus the previous books failed go/feint with Dorian. Even though I thought I had Maas’ big reveal figured out pretty early, she was able to surprise me with an additional twist that I hadn’t anticipated.
In conclusion, this was a pretty fantastic second book, in true Maas fashion, and I’m now very glad I gave that mediocre first novel a go.
I saw Maas described as Fantasy Lite, and for Throne of Glass, there can be no better description that that. The story has promise, but the glaringI saw Maas described as Fantasy Lite, and for Throne of Glass, there can be no better description that that. The story has promise, but the glaring flaws and elements that defy believability are innumerable, and yet, even in her first novel, Maas writes a compelling, page turning story, unforgettable only because I believe there are six succeeding novels in the series.
Celaena Sardothien is an assassin. The best assassin you could possibly imagine. She is such a kick ass assassin that the whole kingdom (and maybe beyond) has heard of her. Her reputation precedes her. She was betrayed and turned in, and sentenced to a slave labor camp which she miraculously survives a year in. She is an assassin. Have I told you she is an assassin yet? Maas will. She tells you again and again and yet again that Celaena is an assassin. There is very little showing versus telling, other than her ability to beat innumerable competitors in weapons throwing, dueling, etc.
Celaena is released from this terrible concentration camp by the crown prince of the kingdom, Dorian, who has tracked her down in order to enlist her to compete in a rather ridiculous competition between a bunch of criminals to become the king’s Champion. Have I mentioned that the crown prince is exceedingly handsome? He is also accompanied by his Captain of the Guard Chaol, who has attained this noble position at the tender age of nineteen due to his precocious ability to do what, I’m not sure — glower? Naturally, he too is compellingly handsome in his own, more rugged way. Celaena accepts their proposition to exchange one life of servitude and torture for a more comfortable drudgery on behalf of a crooked king, if she survives and kicks the appropriate amount of ass. But back at the castle, a glass castle no less, things are not so transparent as they seem. Yes, the king is one giant douche, but his son turns out to be not so bad—and improves dramatically by his handsomeness. Neither is that ruggedly taciturn Captain of the Guard. And clothes, well, clothes are awesome. Most of the story, beyond telling you that Celaena is one bad ass assassin, is devoted to describing her new gowns that sound a great deal like the terrible prom dresses that were in vogue when I was in high school.
Now, I know I’m not the author, and this was her first novel, but I couldn’t help thinking, who am I really kidding— criticizing the novel and thinking of ways, subtle ways that would dramatically improve it. I can accept that Celaena wants to move beyond her former life of crime/cold blooded murder, and yes, she is suffering suffering from severe PTSD and trauma from her mysterious past, but if you’re going to thrust an assassin on us, a little backstory or flashbacks or use of these assassination techniques probably would have worked to improve the story better and enhance credibility. However, since the author calls Celaena assassin more often then she uses her name, I can kind of, almost accept this because Maas hints quite obviously that is Celaena may not be her real name.
Back to the Fantasy Lite: The King has eliminated all magic, and hunted down all magical things. And yet some magic seems to be trickling in as a mysterious creature brutally eliminates competitor criminal champions left and right, and Celaena really must decide whether or not she likes just really wants to kiss the prince or the guard. Oh and maybe solve the mystery of the castle.
People rave about the series so I’m willing to give it a go, even though I initially tried to read this a few months ago and immediately dismissed it. It did improve past the first initial chapters and earns a solid three stars for being entertaining and mindless—like dessert you eat because it’s dessert and not because it’s particularly delicious in its own right. But I have hopes that successive novels will prove my investment worthwhile.
Adrian Goldsworthy’s Caesar is a fantastic biography. For a figure of the ancient world, information is often scarce and motivation, nonexistent—Adrian Goldsworthy’s Caesar is a fantastic biography. For a figure of the ancient world, information is often scarce and motivation, nonexistent—nebulous at best. As the author informs us in an intriguing epilogue, his writing’s “aim has been to treat each episode of [Caesar’s] life without assuming the inevitability of subsequent events.” And that is what makes this biography such a success. Through extant evidence and the rich historical record of the time, Goldsworthy lays out the culture and tumultuous background of the world into which Caesar was born and grew up: the perpetual upheaval of brutal and bloody rebellions and dictatorships, the ruthless murder of enemies as well as neutral parties.
Goldsworthy’s account of Caesar’s rise is rich and detailed. He mostly presents the facts as we know them and saves analyses for his epilogue. The book does get bogged down in Gaul, but Caesar did spend the bulk of his prime career there, and I think my disinterest stemmed mostly from the narrator in this audiobook versus the content. I’ve listened to other podcasts and accounts of Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul that were fascinating, but this narrator’s Oxfordian accent lulled me often to dosing. Sorry, Caesar.
Goldsworthy’s neutral perspective lays bare what makes Caesar so special. “He was an exceptionally talented individual, but he was also a product of his age.” Caesar’s Rome was bloody but also rich in ancient literature and historical record, a jarring contrast of violence mixed with culture and education. As jarring and brutal as Caesar’s actions were in Gaul, he was a Roman with all the brainwashing and cultural biases thereby implied, even if that never excuses the slaughter of hundreds of thousands. Caesar’s actions were not wholly self-aggrandizing, and his populist reforms were wholly admirable. Even as he used calculated clemency, Caesar’s intent was to build a more stable Rome, after eons of infighting and violent squabbling.
Goldsworthy does diminish Caesar’s reliance upon Antony, but he also makes plain Octavian’s brilliance in how he profited from Caesar’s adoption in flukes of fate. If Caesar had lived, would there have been an Augustus?
While very little of this biography was new information, it was very cogently assembled and presented for a neutral portrayal of one of history’s most famous and notorious figures. Stripping away the bias and mythos only made me admire Gaius Julius Caesar all the more. ...more
Eleanor Oliphant is beyond completely fine. It’s one hands down amazing book, and she is one unforgettable character.
Part of its magic is that theEleanor Oliphant is beyond completely fine. It’s one hands down amazing book, and she is one unforgettable character.
Part of its magic is that the author so seamlessly combines humor and pathos. Eleanor is one socially awkward and yet endearing character. She observes society and makes witty judgments about her fellow humans — particularly their grooming habits and social rituals that are actually laughter inducing (and I’m a tough one to make actually laugh while I’m reading. I usually just mentally acknowledge the humor or at most smile). The word choice alone is enough to warrant this a must read. Honeyman’s use of the English language is dexterous and affecting.
Eleanor has been working the same office job for eight years. She returns home, eats pasta and salad nightly with a Friday splurge of frozen pizza and vodka. Her weekend consists of awaiting Monday’s return to the office. It’s normal to go the whole weekend without human interaction, right? Her whole world shifts when she falls in love with a musician she sees at a gig and when she helps a man on the street with one of her coworkers.
Beyond the humor, this is a story about loneliness. Abuse. The effects of kindness, of friendship. Of self healing and compassion. Raymond’s kindness is just so endearing as is the friendship he and Eleanor eventually, slowly forge. Eleanor’s own journey is so gracefully written, so delicately handled, and so gradually revealed — particularly to Eleanor, who must ultimately confront her past. There is no dues ex machina, no sweeping romance. Only a journey to friendship (well, in the pages), and more, importantly, to self.
And as an American reading this book, the English treatment of mental health is infinitely superior to America’s. I knew this already in theory, but seeing how easily Eleanor gets paid time off work with a note from her GP was mind boggling. And this was just some background, taken for granted right for Eleanor as a UK citizen. Hoping for the same privileges in America? Ha! Forget about it. We can’t even get paid maternity leave. ...more
“The Tattooist of Auschwitz is the story of two ordinary people living in an extraordinary time, deprived not only of their freedom but also their“The Tattooist of Auschwitz is the story of two ordinary people living in an extraordinary time, deprived not only of their freedom but also their dignity, their name, and their identities.” Despite its horrors, despite the endless atrocities Lale witnesses firsthand... it’s also a story about love, the capacity of the human spirit, and, above all else, hope.
It’s based on a true story, lovingly composed from Lale’s testimony when he could finally speak of it: over the course of his last three years and directly to the author. Morris admits that she originally intended this as a screenplay and therein lies its biggest faults. If you’re looking for a well written holocaust novel, this isn’t it. It reads simply, directly. The pacing can feel off, and the characters can feel flat. I mostly overlooked this as Morris’s intention to honor Lale’s words and experiences without flourish or flash. Instead, Morris weaves a novel from Lale’s oral history. The diction is simple and direct as though Lale himself is talking to you from its pages, seeking to pass his story on into posterity. To remember, to educate, is to help ensure that people never condone this behavior ever again.
So much of this novel is all the more incredible because the parts that strain your credulity are all true. To find and fall in love in a concentration camp. To decide from Day One to survive. To find glimmers of hope in the worst situations humanity can inflect upon its brethren. To use one’s position of meager privilege to help others in the face of extreme danger.
Josh and Hazel’s Guide to Not Dating is a trip. Immediately engrossing and hilarious, the novel is a fantastic story of friendship blossoming intoJosh and Hazel’s Guide to Not Dating is a trip. Immediately engrossing and hilarious, the novel is a fantastic story of friendship blossoming into something more.
Hazel’s tone is magnificent. Josh is an amazing foil/opposite, and I loved that Hazel refused to settle. Both are well rounded characters, and every quirky teacher/girl in general is going to love Hazel: she’s in her own quirkiness and refuses to settle for anyone who wouldn’t accept her as her complete and total self.
The ending is a little cheesy but yet still completely in character.
I was not impressed by Frankenstein when I read it originally in high school. I still maintain that Shelley wrote in the worst, most sensational ofI was not impressed by Frankenstein when I read it originally in high school. I still maintain that Shelley wrote in the worst, most sensational of Victorian prose that truly prolongs 299 pages into something that feels even longer, but inspired as I was by The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, I was able to make it through the reread perusing for the following thematic allegories:
A. Frankenstein is really gay, and the monster represents his, alas, shameful Victorian urges. Yes, it was my weakest theory.
B. Victor represents God, and the monster, man, and this was Shelley’s way of explaining an effed up world. Frankenstein creates the monster in his image, but his beautiful attempt goes awry. He’s grossed out at his abomination. When the monster appeals to him, like the supposed All Mighty, Victor “sometimes felt a wish to console him, but when I looked upon him, when I saw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened, and my feelings were altered to those of horror and hatred.” God hearing man’s petitions? I should think so.
C. The monster was a figment of Victor’s fancy, and as an unreliable narrator, Victor was the Dr. Jekyll to the monster’s Hyde. Those raving fevers are telling, as is the fact that no one ever sees the monster but Victor... and eventually, Walton. If he can be believed. If that wasn’t just Victor’s persona shedding his human side. This one’s my favorite theory of course. Why wouldn’t anyone remark about the massive size of the hand marks on all the strangled victims’ necks? How did he conduct all that putrid work without his dormmates’ or Clerval smelling his collection of body parts? I’m really supposed to believe that he collected body parts for months and no one smelled anything and that he went on a garden tour with his luggage brimming with noxious, rotting parts? Really?! Unless the monster is fake; then it’s acceptable. And that monster’s ability to stalk Victor defies even supernatural logic.
3.5 stars
Miscellaneous Ramblings: The monster’s development parallels that of man: from an animalistic beast focusing on survival to its discovery of fire. Then shelter. With its basic needs met, it can learn about society and others. From there, it is educated. From basic sensation, he becomes concerned with virtue and vice. If God supposedly made man in his image, how much more abominable is Victor to have created the monster from his own mental image. Man is allegedly an imperfect form of God; so if man were to create, how much more monstrous would be its creation. -The use of nature. I really like how the monster meets Victor high up in the mountains, as close to heaven as he can ascend to meet his Maker....more
Dark Road to Darjeeling is yet another entertaining installment of the Lady Julia series. It’s impossible to review this without spoiling earlierDark Road to Darjeeling is yet another entertaining installment of the Lady Julia series. It’s impossible to review this without spoiling earlier books, so be warned.
As the honeymoon trip is winding to a close, Brisbane and Julia are beset upon by Julia’s sister and her brother, Plum. Portia is convinced that her ex-lover Jane’s husband has been murdered and only Brisbane and Julia can ferret out the truth. In India, no less.
The setting of a tea plantation is northern India during the colonial era was very engrossing. The mystery was slow moving and was secondary to characterization. Julia and Brisbane are struggling to adjust to married life: how to reconcile their wants and needs as independent people to being united as a couple, and in Julia’s hopes, detecting. This helps ratchet up a little tension within the romance. ...more
If biographies are cool enough to elicit hype, I still remember the hype that surrounded McCullough’s John Adams when it came out almost twenty yearsIf biographies are cool enough to elicit hype, I still remember the hype that surrounded McCullough’s John Adams when it came out almost twenty years ago. If Hamilton was considered passe and vilified by his enemies, John Adams had become the butt of the joke. The example of a man overqualified for the job of president and yet terrible at it. McCullough revisits Adams’s legacy and motivations, and now I can’t help but admire Adams.
Of all our founding fathers, he was the only one to live within his means. He died and left his family better off versus destitute (like Jefferson and Hamilton). Fiercely independent, Adams refused to adhere to party politics, and this accounted for most of his failure as president. He truly epitomized a good Roman republican in philosophy and practice.
Educated, intelligent, and in a marriage of philosophical and intellectual equals, Abigail Adams play a central role in John’s life as well as his biography. Their partnership was unique for the eighteenth century and was actually quite sweet. Abigail herself shines in her correspondence. In one instance in 1776, she ponders if Virginians can truly understand and crave the concept of liberty. Because they’re slave owners. And quill drop.
I did not like how McCullough approached the Continental Congresses. He went back to his introductory hook: Adams’s journey to the Second Continental Congress, completely bypassing chronologically the First. He later skips back and forth, merging the two, which was very annoying to my linear brain. It worked out but undercut the First Continental Congress by linking them as overly related events.
Like any biographer, by approaching matters from the Adams’ point of view, McCullough casts others in poor light. Mostly Hamilton though. McCullough treated Jefferson as a secondary character as he and Adams waltzed around one another for most of their political lives starting in 1776. As a result, McCullough provides a very astute and well rounded portrait of our third president: his many good aspects and his many negative.
This biography is very readable, or listenable in my case. Because of Adams’s prolific correspondence as well as his personal journals, there is a wealth of Adams’s witty and sometimes caustic words to accompany events.
———-
“Jefferson, who must have wondered what he had gotten himself into, refused to be engaged in wrangling or dispute.”...more
More of a gothic novel than a mystery, Silent on the Moor was an entertaining throwback to those classic novels while still retaining its own charm.
More of a gothic novel than a mystery, Silent on the Moor was an entertaining throwback to those classic novels while still retaining its own charm.
Defying convention, Lady Julia invites herself to Brisbane’s new estate in Yorkshire, bringing her sister Portia and younger brother Valerius along as a chaperone. Meaning to force Brisbane to declare himself one way or another, the March band is unexpectedly confronted instead by the mysterious and impecunious female relations of the house’s former owner as well as a customarily infuriating and elusive presumed upon host. Naturally, mysteries abound and attempted murder is committed but nothing so formulaically “mystery” is under way here. Most of the novel is spent with Brisbane and Julia taking two steps toward another and one step back, until of course the melo— I mean dramatic ending that resolves everything one way or another. No spoilers here, but you can probably guess the resolution, right?
Atmospheric as any aspiring gothic novel should be, Silent on the Moor was a satisfying addition to the Lady Julia series. (The last one? I’ll investigate.) While it did have its usual anachronistic elements, the sum of the whole allowed me to suspend my belief well enough.
Well, damn. Obsidio was an amazing conclusion to such a fantastic and original series. Unlike the past two installments, there’s no horror aspect toWell, damn. Obsidio was an amazing conclusion to such a fantastic and original series. Unlike the past two installments, there’s no horror aspect to this one, and given how much else is going on, you don’t miss it. Concluding in the same epistolary meets quasi-graphic novel format that’s so ground breaking and multifaceted in its characterization and thematic delivery, this novel was kick ass in every way possible.
After the events of Gemina, the crew of Hypatia and the survivors of the Heimdall station return to Kerenza IV, where miraculously survivors of BeiTech’s assault remain, enslaved and under incredible duress and torturous conditions. We’re introduced to Kady’s cousin Asha and her BeiTech employee ex-boyfriend Rhys Lindstrom. As enjoyable as these new additions are, it was having all of the characters together in one book that made this book so gripping. I loved having AIDAN back as more than an analyst. It’s terrifying and amoral and yet fascinating. I mean, what can you really say about a dispassionate and yet self aware computer? Every story needs a hero. And a monster. “Am I not merciful?”
Instead of monsters from the horror genre, we’re facing a different kind of monster. BeiTech (as well as WUC’s indifference and illegal operation’s intention in the first place) is front and center as the Mao gears up to take the remaining invading forces. In this day and age, the greed of capitalism sponsoring interstellar warfare doesn’t seem that far fetched and is even scarier. Given that businesses don’t give a fig about destroying our environment and paying pittance wages to their workers now, it’s easy to believe that planetary genocide would be more than plausible in this sci-fi universe.
Part of what makes this book so incredible is how it humanizes all the people, villains included. The man attempting a coup? He’s just worried about his widowed sister-in-law and nephew. The invading soldiers? What happens to those who don’t follow orders? (I still found their ability to follow genocidal orders to be unconscionable.) “A soldier’s first duty is to his conscious.” Touché.
And our main characters are teenagers: young or nascent adults, thrust into positions of authority and naturally adults are resentful. Despite that plot point, they are pebbles, creating avalanches. And man, did I love all this action and thematic content.
The Illuminae Files was well worth its hype and an amazing trilogy. Have I stressed that enough? If I haven’t, let me repeat myself again: frickin’ amazing.
Silent in the Sanctuary was a very entertaining sequel in the Lady Julia Grey series.
Having returned from an excursion with two of her brothers inSilent in the Sanctuary was a very entertaining sequel in the Lady Julia Grey series.
Having returned from an excursion with two of her brothers in Italy to spend Christmas at home by summons of her illustrious father, Julia is confronted with Brisbane as well as his new, frivolous fiancée. Soon a murder falls into their laps. Snowed in, the pair team up once more to investigate.
The house guest mystery troupe was well done, and the sexual tension between Julia and Brisbane was thick as English fog. Despite Julia’s massive development as a character in the first installment, this second book still provides her room to grow and to better understand not only herself but what she must have out of a relationship. Two new March brothers (of the enormous ten children, notoriously eccentric household) to meet provide for entertainment amidst the far more normal Victorian guests. It only bothered me minutely that the March behavior has become even more egregiously anachronistic (excused of course by their eccentricity), but due to the mystery and characters themselves, I was mostly able to accept it without too much conscious criticism.
For its genre, I’m really enjoying the Lady Julia series. As a comparison to the Amelia Peabody series, it surpasses the Lady Emily series by far and is far better written. So far. ...more
Hope Never Dies is exactly what you’re hoping it would be: rather overwritten, a little redundant, but more than often – hilarious. I hadn’t knownHope Never Dies is exactly what you’re hoping it would be: rather overwritten, a little redundant, but more than often – hilarious. I hadn’t known that the world was missing a Biden-Obama murder mystery romp, but as soon as I caught wind of it, it sounded right up my satire/slapstick-loving alley – and the deal was sweetened when I actually won a free copy from GoodReads. Thanks, GoodReads!
The mystery is ridiculous (in the best possible sense): Amtrack Joe can’t refrain from investigating when an old conductor friend turns up dead, apparently of suicide. Also, the Obama-Biden bromance has been strained – apparently distance makes the heart grow suspicious, and the first time Biden sees Obama after leaving office is smoking cigarettes mysteriously in his backyard. Narrated from Joe’s point of view, you’re treated to plenty of Biden-inspired humor such as “’Son of a buttermilk biscuit… We got bamboozled.’”
The writing is inconsistent. Joe forgot his Ray Bans at a motel and then is suddenly wearing them again. He takes strolls for exercise – despite a busted up knee, but that’s not the point. It’s campy, overwritten, and perfectly over the top. It doesn’t take itself seriously, and I certainly did not take it seriously. It did succeed in making me laugh out loud, and that is a feat in and of itself.
More seriously, the author does use the novel to assuage its likely liberal reader that the former president/vice-president’s legacy has not completely been dismantled by a single idiot – I mean, president. “Change happens incrementally.”
If you want a quick, pro-liberal propaganda, campy OBiden read, Hope Never Dies definitely takes the ice cream cake.
Gemina has a lot in common with its predecessor, Illuminae: both share the same artistic layout and epistolary formatting. (Btw, I’m so glad I readGemina has a lot in common with its predecessor, Illuminae: both share the same artistic layout and epistolary formatting. (Btw, I’m so glad I read the actual book versus the kindle version this time around.) Both have kickass heroines and a romance angle as a countdown ticks toward total sci-fi annihilation. In Illuminae, this all worked to total awesomeness. In its sequel, the effect was a tad bit underwhelming.
But I still award it four stars because it’s a fabulous space adventure. Hanna is literally badass. I loved how her dad’s favorite tactical and strategic analysis worked so well to her advantage. However, the characterization didn’t feel as well done as the first — maybe because there was too much overlap in characters? Without spoilers, I wasn’t s fan of certain angles of the romance narrative. Namely how it ended up so abruptly. I loathe relationship shifting so quickly.
Despite the fact that Gemina did not absolutely blow me away, I still highly recommend this series and eagerly await my library delivering me its final installment. ...more
Silent in the Grave is another Victorian mystery with a smattering of potential romance. Once again, widowhood liberates Julia Grey (this time) from aSilent in the Grave is another Victorian mystery with a smattering of potential romance. Once again, widowhood liberates Julia Grey (this time) from a problematic marriage. If memory serves me right the Lady Julia series was published around the same approximate time as the Lady Emily series, and at face value, they have a lot in common. When you look past the basic premises, there are more subtleties in this novel compared to the former series.
Silent in the Grave is a very nuanced coming of age/quest for identity novel. By investigating her husband’s murder a year later, Julia discovers herself. She comes from the infamous March family where each member is an eccentric. Julia has only ever craved normalcy which led her to her Grey marriage. (See what I did there?) The Marches make for an excellent cast of secondary characters. Julia’s father is wonderful as are Portia and Val.
Nicholas Brisbane though was a little much. Gifted with the “Sight,” this Sherlock-inspired, half-Roma is a prize fighting, experiment conducting, top investigator and master of disguise. Unlike Holmes, however, Brisbane is not asexual though he is rather too proud to admit real interest. His relationship with Julia is unique at least. Their vocal duels bring out the best and worst in one another. Minor spoiler: the romance aspect is in no way resolved at the end of this novel.
The author very skillfully shows Julia’s transformation from chapter to chapter. Though the first chapters are narrated with wit, subsequent chapters allow Julia to blossom from her gray existence quite literally. Unlike Lady Emily, Lady Julia truly grows and transforms as a character. I also liked how the author portrayed the hardships of Victorian England without solely focusing on flippant socialites and aristocrats.
A list (and miscellaneous thoughts) of what makes The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein so delightfully creepy a read:
4. It’s the perfectlyA list (and miscellaneous thoughts) of what makes The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein so delightfully creepy a read:
4. It’s the perfectly atmospheric. The Frankenstein castle glowers from the pages, and the putrid horror of Victor’s labs are distasteful, nauseating, and horrific. 3. The monster. Like Mary Shelley, White really explores who the monster is. And while it’s no different a conclusion from what you’d draw in the original story, White leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind. 2. The creepiness of possessive relationships. “You began existing on the day we met. You are my Elizabeth, and that is all that matters.” 1. ... Annnnd the absolute horror of being a woman in the Victorian era.
What would it mean to be one of the innumerable female wards floating around Victorian novels? Penniless and dependent? An heiress expected to marry into the family out of gratitude? White’s use of this as Elizabeth’s characterization created sympathy when her morally grey actions would otherwise elicit horror. Who can blame her for turning a blind eye to Victor’s distasteful means of pursuing his early work if it better secured her ties to the family?
“They had saved me from poverty and, in the same stroke, doomed me to utter dependence.”
The relationships among the trio of very different women was also well played out. I loved that each was unique and given no less importance.
Because Elizabeth is a minor character in the original story, the depth of the retelling — which I’m pretty sure follows the plot line pretty closely — fleshes out the inconsistencies and fictions Victor would have asserted in his version. Because, truly, wouldn’t only a psychopath engage in such work? How reliable would such a narrator be, after all, in trying to convince the world that his monstrous legacy was somehow noble?
Like the original story, this story did suffer a little from uneven pacing. Elizabeth’s character growth was jarringly sudden, and the conclusion seemed rushed. But White must have thought she’d spent enough time making sure Elizabeth’s actions ran parallel to the original story points.
I did like how the kindle version includes Frankenstein at the end (though, before I knew, I thought the books as never ending). Maybe I’ll reread the original. ...more
An unreliable narrator. A murder mystery. Wait - or is there a murder mystery? The Woman in the Window’s main character, Anna, is agoraphobic andAn unreliable narrator. A murder mystery. Wait - or is there a murder mystery? The Woman in the Window’s main character, Anna, is agoraphobic and separated from her family. She’s also on a daily cocktail of medication that must. not. be mixed with alcohol (ever). You can imagine how often she follows that structure. Spoiler: cases of quality merlot arrive monthly. So when she apparently witnesses a murder, her word is not exactly taken at face value.
This thriller twists and turns — after a somewhat slow start, but everything is plotted and included for a purpose. I loved Anna’s self deprecating and quite dark humor in relaying her actions and choices.
Heartbreaking at times and difficult to read (though that must be my own aversion to realistic misfortune), The Woman in the Window is worthy of its hype. ...more
The Kiss Quotient is just as sweet as it is steamy (and it’s incredibly steamy). It certainly lives up the internet hype.
Huong’s two main characters,The Kiss Quotient is just as sweet as it is steamy (and it’s incredibly steamy). It certainly lives up the internet hype.
Huong’s two main characters, Stella and Michael, are incredibly strong and three dimensional. I loved this #ownvoice novel, and Stella owning her Asperger’s was incredibly empowering. I loved the reverse take on Pretty Woman, with Stella being the rich one technically in control of the situation, financially at least.
Everything you need to know is in the blurb other than that this is incredibly fun and perfect summer read.
Sigh. Dangerous to Know is dangerously dull and improbable.
After her life threatening injury and subsequent miscarriage in the previous installment,Sigh. Dangerous to Know is dangerously dull and improbable.
After her life threatening injury and subsequent miscarriage in the previous installment, Lady Emily has come to her mother-in-law’s estate in Normandy to convalesce. But she’s having s difficult time doing so emotionally. None of this is helped when she discovers a gruesome murder victim and, naturally, begins to investigate.
My first criticism is how flat characterization has become. Emily weeps and wails continuously. I know miscarriage is rough, but she’s become a shell of her former self, and for light beach reading, I miss her indomitable spirit. And Colin, for fear of losing his wife to their detective shenanigans, has performed a completed 180 and debates outright banning her participation. What happened to his enlightened viewpoint? Emily, while being inwardly upset, accepts his mandates because he just loves her so much. Wtf? Is this even the same series as before?
The murder mystery is pretty ho-hum and the resolution so batty that you’d never guess the motives, even if you do identify the murderer.
I did enjoy the addition of Colin’s mother, but I think it’s time I jumped ship from this series. I made it one book further than I did eight years ago. At least?...more
**spoiler alert** While not as terrible as I recall, Tears of Pearl isn’t exactly good either. Lady Emily and Colin have traveled to Constantinople on**spoiler alert** While not as terrible as I recall, Tears of Pearl isn’t exactly good either. Lady Emily and Colin have traveled to Constantinople on their honeymoon, and a murder of a half English girl in the Ottoman harem turns their wedding trip into an official investigation for the British crown.
My first criticism was that the mystery on a whole was rather weak. When the whodunnit is finally confirmed and the motives revealed, it was all quite underwhelming. Most of this is no doubt due to attempting to make a British connection to the Ottoman Empire so that the Hargreaves could investigate, but it rung hollow.
Secondly, Emily spends an inordinate amount of time crying. Boohoo: she might be pregnant. It grew quite tiresome.
I will say that Alexander handily provided an outlet for Lady Emily to not have a horde of children.
A Fatal Waltz continues Emily’s adventures. Now engaged to Colin Hargreaves, a murder of a prominentIn which Colin’s job and past are explored.
A Fatal Waltz continues Emily’s adventures. Now engaged to Colin Hargreaves, a murder of a prominent British politician implicates Emily’s best friend Ivy’s husband and Emily is charged with exonerating him. Her adventures take her go Vienna to waltz and fraternize with both artists and anarchists.
So far, so good with the series. Amidst the delightfully entertaining twaddle, witty dialogue, and men falling for Emily left and right, this book does continue to deepen Emily’s character and those of her friends. I really enjoyed the interactions of Emily’s diverse group of girlfriends. Also, faced with Colin’s former paramour, insecurity rears its ugly head. And despite Emily’s penchant for investigations, that territory is often dangerous and potentially fatal, and never more so than in this installment.
The Austrian setting is delightful and very atmospheric. (How can you not love Cecile’s affair with Gustav Klimt?)
I’m not looking forward to the next novel as it disillusioned me years ago, but here’s to second chances.
It’s so rare when a second book actually surpasses the first, and A Poisoned Season does exactly that.
Now an established widow and out of herIt’s so rare when a second book actually surpasses the first, and A Poisoned Season does exactly that.
Now an established widow and out of her mandatory mourning period, Lady Emily has rejoined Society. Amidst the new Season in London, a cat burglar has started stealing all items related to Marie Antoinette just as a Mr. Charles Berry has claimed to be the Bourbon heir, relative to the Dauphin who apparently escaped his imprisonment. And of course there is a murder to be investigated. Naturally, Emily is swept into the melee.
One of my favorite aspects of this novel is how it explores the limits between eccentricity and ruin for a widow. Yes, Emily has far more freedom as a widow than she had when she wasn’t married, but even so, a woman could only go so far. Emily realizes that she cannot completely shun societal standards and norms, and I found that refreshing for a book to address, despite of course the ridiculous Victorian standards.
Alexander also truly found her voice in this installment of the series. The Amelia Peabody similarities continue — in all the best possible ways. The dialogue is witty and fun, and there’s plenty of farce and comedy within Emily’s society interactions. (Charles Berry is ridiculous on so many levels.) Emily’s romance with Colin is fun, but he is rather the weakest point of the novel. Other than being male perfection personified, there’s not much else to him. Oh, yes, other than being a spy.
All in all, A Poisoned Season is an incredibly fun read. ...more
“How can this be happening in America? How can people like these be in charge of our country? If I didn’t see it with my two eyes, I’d think I was“How can this be happening in America? How can people like these be in charge of our country? If I didn’t see it with my two eyes, I’d think I was having a hallucination.”
In The Plot Against America — my first Philip Roth book, Roth recounts his own alternate history: what his family life and youth would have been like had America elected fascist Charles Lindbergh as president in 1940 instead of FDR.
This dense novel opens up a dark and dismal view of America: bringing its unworthy and worst citizens and characteristics to the forefront: as fear is utilized to drive its unthinking masses to ignore facts, embrace a propagandized image, and elect a dangerous fool. Wait — is this alternate 1940 or real life 2016? Eerily prescient, there are enough parallels to the present’s sordid events to make you even more uncomfortable.
My absolute favorite aspect of this novel, however, is its tone: recounted from an older age, Roth describes his childhood experiences/naivety with self deprecating wryness that couldn’t help but make me chuckle to myself. Little bright spots amidst the fear and anxiety young Philip is experiencing. His turn of phrase and word choice are most definitely those of an adult, and yet he encapsulates a true sense of childhood in young Philip’s perception of his family and events, local, federal, and international. For example, in the midst of relaying a previous childhood breakdown, he gives you wisdom such as this: “... and that’s when I saw a bathroom for what it is—the upper end of the sewer.” Or alternately: “What ordinarily passed for fear just paled away, and there was no defense, for either adult or child, against the solemn atmosphere of hyperbole.” Combined with the beauty of his diction and you have a run on sentence filled masterpiece. (Man, does Roth like a never ending sentence... and lots of extraneous detail, which really gives the novel credence as a personal memoir used to remember his formative experiences).
In his characters, I was left wondering how much Roth drew from his real family versus imagination.
Random thoughts: Lindbergh expresses his admiration for Hitler — not unlike our illustrious president’s admiration for another brutal dictator, Kim Jong Un.
Voting for an anti war president who then establishes a peace time draft.
Lindbergh’s State of the Union addresses repeat the idea of “an independent destiny for America.” The narrator’s father explains that “it means turning our backs on our friends. It means making friends with our enemies. You know what it means, sons? It means destroying everything that America stands for.” Sigh. ...more
And Only to Deceive introduces us to a young Victorian woman who was raised traditionally, but following the death of a close family member inherits aAnd Only to Deceive introduces us to a young Victorian woman who was raised traditionally, but following the death of a close family member inherits a fortune and discovers a hidden passion for classics; this in turn embroils her in a forgery ring. No, dear reader, I’m not describing the first Amelia Peabody novel. (There are no resurrected mummies in this novel, unfortunately.) Instead, Lady Emily is Amelia Peabody-lite and most definitely inspired/adapted/based upon Amelia (with Nefret’s personality traits mixed in as well).
I read the first three books in the Lady Emily series about a decade or so ago. Unfortunately, I was disillusioned by whatever book it is in which she travels to Turkey; my reading slump encouraged me to give her another go, and I’m glad I did. (Any series that glorifies Ancient Greek culture and art deserves a second chance, after all.) And Only to Deceive is the first book in the series, and from the beginning, you can definitely tell that it’s the author’s first book, but despite that, it’s an amusing and entertaining escapist read.
Having married on a whim to escape her browbeating, traditional mother, Emily is quickly widowed with a fortune at her disposal. Now independent, she begins to learn about her husband towards the end of her mourning period and begins to adopt his interests: classics, Impressionism, travel. Why Emily was so attractive and “different from other girls” that Lord Ashton fell for her in the first place is beyond me, but he was apparently secretly in love with her but hid it not to scare her, and then he had the temerity to go die on a hunt in Africa. Emily hadn’t bothered to pay attention to Ashton when he was alive, but posthumously, she starts to fall for him.
The dialogue is rather jilted, initially. The author attempts to have her characters speak in time appropriate diction and yet they often come off robotic. Emily is also so keen to rebel that some of her actions defy belief after being raised so tightly ingrained in Society.
As I mentioned previously, my main critique/attraction to this series has always been that it’s assuredly Amelia Peabody-lite. Even Lady Emily’s name is a direct allusion to Elizabeth Peters’ heroine. Tasha Alexander is no Elizabeth Peters, and her novels lack the depth and humor of MPM’s, but they work as an ode.
Despite its slow start, the novel does hit its stride about 30% of the way through.
The Half-Drowned King is a spectacular piece of historical fiction. Based on the half-legend, half-history of Norway’s first king, Harald, this novelThe Half-Drowned King is a spectacular piece of historical fiction. Based on the half-legend, half-history of Norway’s first king, Harald, this novel follows the lives of a brother and sister duo, Ragnvald and Svanhild respectively, who become transfixed in the drama. The blurb does give away rather a lot of the plot, but the author’s evocative atmosphere and rich, historic details make this novel stand apart, and—children permitting—I couldn’t—well, didn’t want to—put it down.
The two main characters are brother and sister, Ragnvald and Svanhild: both are intelligent and spirited with insight into others’ personalities and motives (though Ragnvald lacks insight into his self and those who immediately affect him). Both—originally—want to make names of themselves and live lives worthy of the bards. Descended from kings, they lost their land upon their father’s premature death. Their stepfather was supposed to watch over that land, and of course this is where things go awry. Ragnvald’s naivety is crushed when the lord he is viking with, Solvi, attempts to kill him at his uncle’s bidding. Face ravaged and thrown overboard to drown, Ragnvald survived against all odds. From here, Ragnvald seeks vengeance, and that quest leads him to rise in the ranks of kings. To make a name for himself.
Svanhild, on the other hand, seeks adventure and freedom: things a ninth century girl can’t obtain when she’s married off at sixteen to become one wife of many, a concubine, or mistress, set to run a hall or farm. Her abhorrence for the man Olaf intends her for initiates her adventures.
The author’s characterization shines. After all, the Vikings were a violent lot, and none of their raping, pillaging, etc. are shied away from here; hence, the men in particular are not perfect — Ragnvald is a misogynistic product of the ninth century — and yet they’re all still sympathetic. Solvi, Ragnvald’s would-be assassin, Harald’s enemy, is a very complex character, often appropriately compare to Loki. While Svanhild might seem like every young adult heroine out there, she is unique and well written and a product of her time period. Her actions reflect and feel apropos to her time and culture. As twenty-first century readers, we can balk at the cultural details that our characters take in stride, but it’s still hard to hate people crafted with such eloquent grayness.
A complicated novel full of history, politics, scheming, and some old fashioned viking, The Half-Drowned King was one of the best historical fiction novels I’ve read in quite a while.
The Star Thief was a meh read for me, like most of my reads of late, unfortunately. Rather than abandoning this to the ever increasing DNF pile that IThe Star Thief was a meh read for me, like most of my reads of late, unfortunately. Rather than abandoning this to the ever increasing DNF pile that I’ve been accruing lately, I persevered.
The main character, Renna, is bad ass. She’s literally the best thief in the galaxy; she’s tough, and she’s at home in her own sexuality. I do wish she had some other tools in her arsenal, but if she always wants to play the flirt or sleep with people for information, you go for it, Renna. As with it as Renna is supposed to be, she is perfectly trusting to allow a shady doctor tamper with her technological implant. I kept waiting and hoping that would go wrong. Damn.
The writing is quite lackluster and has inexperienced writer written all over it. Every single caricature — I mean, character lacked depth. Furthermore, the language is repetitive, but I was willing to accept all of this as mind numbing if rather uninteresting reading until Renna and her two dimensional love interest decided to fall into each other’s arms while imprisoned and immediately after Finn has sustained potentially life threatening injuries. I’m not a man, but I don’t think most men could maintain their... stamina while bleeding out internally and suffering from what we later find out are broken ribs and collapsed lungs. But such are Renna’s many charms. My eye rolling just cannot be contained.
1.5 stars — the extra half a star due to my simply completing the novel. ...more
James Madison is often overlooked compared to the more fiery founding fathers, but James Madison: A Life Reconsidered gives due credit to theJames Madison is often overlooked compared to the more fiery founding fathers, but James Madison: A Life Reconsidered gives due credit to the introverted mastermind of our Constitution. One of my favorite things about Madison is how he was always thinking and re-evaluating, and what better than a biography to celebrate this cerebral intellectual.
A lifelong sufferer of a mild form of epilepsy, Madison is often depicted as frail and weak (his height and build no doubt didn’t help much), but Cheney dispels that myth. Instead, Madison discovered time in nature and exercise helped to alleviate his worst symptoms, and when his work allowed, Madison was very active. One thing I found interesting about young Madison was how he sought comfort in other brilliant historic figures who also suffered from physical affliction: “The strongest and soundest minds often possess the weakest and most sickly bodies.” — J. M. paraphrasing French writings. Touché, Jamie.
I found Madison’s departure from the church to be most interesting. As an early example of Madison always reassessing his views and ultimately changing his mind, it is most enlightening into his psyche. To be raised a devout Christian and ultimately disavow oneself from its dogmatic shackles and then become a champion for religious freedom is most admirable to this twentyfirst century agnostic.
A lot of content in this biography is given over to relaying and reporting on events that transpired around Madison, especially after the Constitution went into effect and when Jefferson gained the presidency. It’s there that analysis of Madison’s personality rather disappears and actions are allowed to speak for themselves. As elusive a character as Madison was compared to the other founding fathers, it is perhaps natural that we don’t always get a depiction if his deeper motivations, except if we tie it back to his deeply analytical, rational self. It is revealed that both Madison and Dolley burnt correspondence and papers of a more personal level which contributed to this dearth. I would have liked to see more of an exploration of Madison and Dolley’s relationship, but perhaps that wasn’t possible. Dolley herself was very sympathetically depicted.
How apropos that in this work both Hamilton and even Washington are construed as Federalist antagonists to the purportedly superior views of the Democratic-Republicans. Or is that because Cheney is conservative? She should approve of Federalists’ pro-business tactics. Otherwise, there’s no noticeable bias from a Cheney (and yes, it was very hard to buy and read anything written by a Cheney).
Miscellaneous Notes/Reflections/Quotes of Interest: “Diversity sustains freedom.” A large republic has more chance of success with competing interests permitting diverse viewpoints to exist and ultimately thrive.
“Over the course of a long public life, Madison had learned to learn... When experience proved that his opponents ideas had merit, he incorporated them into his own thinking. Though like any good politician, he didn’t go out of his way to advertise that he was doing so.” Out-Hamiltoning Alexander Hamilton with the bank charter and standing army/naval expansion. What I love about Madison
“A popular government without popular information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a prologue to a farce or a tragedy, or perhaps both. Knowledge will forever govern ignorance, and a people who mean to be their own governors must arm themselves with the power that knowledge gives.” — J. M. “What spectacle can be more edifying or more seasonable than that of Liberty abc learning — each leaning on the other for their mutual and surest support?”
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