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0375870415
| 9780375870415
| 0375870415
| 3.82
| 32,193
| Sep 11, 2012
| Sep 11, 2012
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None
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Notes are private!
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0
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not set
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not set
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Aug 14, 2018
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Hardcover
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0764221760
| 9780764221767
| 0764221760
| 4.12
| 5,782
| Mar 31, 1999
| Apr 01, 1999
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really liked it
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The disputed Canadian territory of Acadia, 1753 Catherine Price has just married Andrew Harrow, a captain in His Majesty’s army. They are very much in The disputed Canadian territory of Acadia, 1753 Catherine Price has just married Andrew Harrow, a captain in His Majesty’s army. They are very much in love, but he is almost always away from home. They live on a volatile piece of land, occupied by their fellow British colonists, French Catholics loyal to Louis XV, and Huguenots (French Protestants, historically persecuted by, and exiled from, their mother country), who swear allegiance to neither king. The drums of war echo in every hill and valley of this land. With Andrew usually absent, Catherine finds herself stuck in a small-minded settlement, full of suspicious, petty matrons who have no wish to associate with her. Her mother died when she was a little child, her cold, imposing father is in the army like Andrew, and she has no other family. Between Andrew’s visits, Catherine obsessively cleans the house, flips through her Bible, and takes long walks in the woods just beyond the settlement. On one of these walks she bumps into Louise Belleveau Robichaud from the neighboring Huguenot settlement of Minas. Catherine can only speak childish French, Louise only stiff and limited English. But the two young women discover that they are the same age and facing many of the same problems… Louise is also newly married, to Henri Robichaud, who’s quickly becoming a community leader despite his youth. Both of Louise’s parents are alive and loving; she has several siblings and is related to almost everyone in her tight-knit village. Yet the folk of Minas are poor, especially compared to their English neighbors, with each generation fighting desperately against hunger and cold. They have no love for the French crown—the memory of their martyred ancestors is far too near and dear for that—but that doesn’t mean they’re about to swear allegiance to George II either. Sensing bad times ahead, Louise has turned to Scripture and nature for solace and guidance, just like Catherine. As the two keep meeting up and chatting, they learn enough of each other’s languages to have real conversations, and study their Bibles together. They trade herbal remedies and husband stories, and share the anxieties and thrills of their first pregnancies. Catherine is embraced by Louise’s giant family. At first Andrew is quite alarmed to hear that his wife has been taken under French wings, but Louise and Henri adopt him too. But many in the village of Edward have been spying on the Harrows and accuse them of treachery. As Andrew’s position is endangered, Catherine hatches a compassionate plan that may still end in tragedy… No content advisory needed. This is one of the cleanest adult books I have ever read. The problems are pretty grown-up, but there’s nothing in the book itself that a twelve-year-old couldn’t handle. Conclusions When I read Oke and Bunn’s Acts of Faith trilogy, I enjoyed the story, prose, and characters. But I thought that the likeable cast acted more like American (or Canadian) Protestants of the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries than the first century Jews and pagan Romans that they were supposed to be. I figured the authors might be more at home writing about people closer in space and historical time. And indeed, they are! It’s clear that our authors know and love the land of Acadia; the characters—Catherine, Andrew, Louise, Henri, Captain Price, Marie, Jacques, and Pastor Jean Ricard—seem sprung from its soil. With the exception of the (understandably) bitter Captain Price, they are all the sort of people you would want for neighbors, unfailingly generous and eager to help. I do think that the whole concept might have been even more effective if Louise and her village had been Catholic. The English bore no great love for any French, but they found “Papists” especially disgusting. Don’t misunderstand me—the persecution of the Huguenots is probably one of the most shameful chapters in the history of both royal France and Catholicism—but it seems like the only acceptable French characters in Christian historical fiction must be Huguenots, and that annoys me. There was also a throwaway line in this book about a warmongering, royalist Catholic priest because of course there was *eye roll* . Not saying it didn't happen, obviously it did, but since the majority of French Canadians were Catholic I wish they had been represented better, especially since reaching out to people from different cultures is the whole point of the story. The only other flaw was the twice-repeated reference to a city in the thirteen lower colonies called Washington. Given that Washington DC wouldn’t be founded for another thirty-seven years, and George Washington was just a twenty-one-year-old surveyor in 1753—does anyone know where the heck this book is talking about when it mentions Washington?!? I know it’s a nitpick, but it was bothering me. When only three sentences out of a novel bother me, the author(s) did an excellent job. This was a surprisingly engrossing story that introduced me to a time and place I knew almost nothing about. The prose is good, the characters lovable, the setting deep, and the crisis at the end unexpected and wrenching. Now I’m eager to find out what becomes of the Harrows, the Robichauds, and their “beloved land.” ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Aug 13, 2018
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Aug 25, 2018
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Jul 29, 2018
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Paperback
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0062024744
| 9780062024749
| 0062024744
| 4.05
| 5,488
| Feb 04, 2014
| Feb 04, 2014
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really liked it
| ”Who ever heard of a witch who really died? You can always get them back.” A teenaged resident of South Wood, Wildwood, d ”Who ever heard of a witch who really died? You can always get them back.” A teenaged resident of South Wood, Wildwood, decides to horse around with parlor necromancy one night and inadvertently summons a spirit far beyond her powers. At first young Zita thinks she’s summoned a primordial being from the deep past, but the true identity of the spirit is tied to the bloody recent history of Wildwood. Zita is no great hero. Her sole claim to fame till now is having marched in the South Wood parade as the May Queen. She also has to deal with the mysterious new cult that her father just joined, the Synod of the Blighted Tree, whose acolytes all wear blank masks, and who seem to be planning for something… Across the magical divide in Portland, Prue McKeel promises her parents that she will at least aim to come home safe after saving the Wood. Then she and Esben Clampett, the clockmaker bear with hooks for hands, head back into the forest as a shadow falls on it. Prue has been told that she has to bring Prince Alexei back to life or the whole Wood will collapse. In the hazy land between the Wildwood and Portland, the Industrial Wastes, the Unadoptable escapees of Joffrey Unthank’s ruined orphanage/child-slave-labor-factory-hellhole have just crossed paths with a team of anarchist men known as the Chapeaux Noir, who spout a lot of fine rhetoric about workers’ rights and the environment, but readily admit that their only actual plan is to (I quote) “blow stuff up.” The two groups realize they have a common goal in bringing down the Industrial Titans, and soon get embroiled in the chaos deeper in the Impassable Wilderness. Curtis Mehlberg was last seen searching for his fellow Bandits, who have all vanished without a trace. And the forest is being overrun with ivy that chokes and drowns everything in its path. Zita suspects the spirit that haunts her has a hand in it. There’s a bustle in this May Queen’s hedgerow, and she’s very alarmed… [image] Content Advisory Violence: There’s allusions to heavy violence, although the stuff that’s actually shown isn’t that bad. The people of South Wood have erected a guillotine on the grounds of the Governor’s mansion, and while we don’t see it used, the characters are quick to tell Prue (and us) that the thing is in no danger of gathering dust. We do see the Chapeaux and the Unadoptables lobbing explosives at various buildings, but the carnage left by these explosions is largely left unexplored. Sex: Nothing. Language: One use of “damn”—Curtis remembers his little sister is present and ostentatiously corrects himself, “I mean shoot.” Substance Abuse: Nothing. Politics and Religion: The Synod is the archetypal creepy cult, but Meloy uses mainstream religious lingo to describe them. Individual members are called Caliphs, a name that actually refers to an Islamic authority figure, and the term synod refers to a council of Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox bishops convened to decide on doctrine. I understand why Meloy would use established religious terms to give his fictional cult some credibility, but if you’re reading the book with younger kids, you might want to clarify that Caliphs and Synods are not sinister entities in the real world. The cult members also ingest a fungus as part of their ritual, which was described in terms reminiscent of Catholic Eucharistic rites. As a Catholic, this made me a little uneasy, but I couldn’t tell how much of the resemblance was intentional. At any rate, this is hardly The Golden Compass. Crude Humor: The only way to extract the Spongiform is by pulling it out of the victim’s nose; once removed, the narrator tells us that the stuff looks like grey spaghetti. When Nico, Rachel, and the kids get caught in a net, some poor boy winds up with his face right against Elsie’s butt. Conclusions I wasn’t impressed with the first Wildwood book, but the second one was a marked improvement on the first and made me care just enough to see how the whole thing ended. I’m glad I stuck around. Meloy ties his whole story together quite nicely here. All the plotlines are addressed and resolved (except for a tiny unanswered question at the end that might be a tentative sequel hook). The many main characters all get page-time and moments of heroism. I feel like the strongest and most memorable of the group turned out to be Rachel when it should have been Prue, but your mileage may vary. These days it’s commendable when an author focuses on the conflict they created rather than getting tripped up by inane shipping wars. The main relationships in this book are those between parents and children, and those between siblings, which is exactly how it should be in a middle-grade book. There are light hints that the friendship between Alexei and Zita, or Nico and Rachel, might deepen down the road, but they’re only hints. It was quite refreshing to read a MG book that stayed age-appropriate, and didn’t force its younger characters to grow up too fast. Kids have the rest of their lives to worry about dating. The final showdown reads like the battle at the Black Gate in LOTR combined with the battle of Manhattan from The Last Olympian (can’t say why without giving the whole thing away), with a touch of Sleeping Beauty and what might have happened in Prince Caspian if Nikabrik and his buddies had successfully resurrected Jadis. [image] [image] [image] So while these images have been used before, they’re still stirring and effective. Ellis brings them to life beautifully in her illustrations, which have never been better. While the literary ancestors of this series have always been fairly obvious—Grimm’s fairytales, LOTR, Narnia, Tiffany Aching, the Spiderwick Chronicles, and maybe Labyrinth —this installment made me realize its musical influences for the first time. I think there must have been a lot of Led Zeppelin playing in the Meloy-Ellis household during the writing of these novels. Much of the imagery in this particular installment seemed inspired by “Stairway to Heaven.” I know classic rock connoisseurs mock that song now because it’s been played to death, but the reason it was overplayed in the first place is because it’s so evocative. The melody is a haunting sister to “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and the lyrics, while they have no clear meaning, borrow just enough from Dante and Tolkien to create their own spooky little realm, where pipers lead perceptive souls through tangled forests and down long roads, towards an enlightened age where everything is revealed to be golden and beautiful. This sort of hippie daydream has become hackneyed now, but it’s reaching for something truly magical, the kind of feeling Frodo gets while listening to Elvish songs in the hollowed halls of Rivendell: Almost it seemed that the words took shape, and visions of far lands and bright things that he had never yet imagined opened out before him; and the firelit hall became like a golden mist above seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the world. Then the enchantment became more and more dreamlike…and it drenched and drowned him. [image] I always felt like that passage described how it felt to read The Lord of the Rings itself, to read other great fantasies (like the Chronicles of Narnia or the works of Robin McKinley), to listen to those ethereal Celtic-inflected classic rock songs, or to gaze upon a painting by Botticelli or one of the Pre-Raphaelites. These things make you feel as if the boundaries between the real world and the infinite realms of Faerie will dissolve at any moment. There are few books (or songs) written today that stir this feeling in me. Today’s culture is sedentary and sanitized to a fault, immured with our tech far from the natural world—and note that fantasy comes from mythology, which came about to explain the savagery and beauty of nature. I remember reading the part in Throne of Glass where the main characters are riding through the forest on their way to the castle, and being a little startled at how phony the whole scene felt. I actually asked myself, “Has this author spent any quality time in a forest before?” (I don’t think she has, but enough about her). Suffice that in this case, though, the answer to that question is an emphatic yes. Meloy and Ellis have clearly spent lots of time in forests very much like the Wildwood they created. They’ve also studied folk art and ballads from medieval times through the nineteenth century. They’ve listened to, and made, a lot of good music. And they’ve read all the right books. The last fifty or so pages of Wildwood Imperium brought back a bit of that drenching, drowning enchantment that all the best fantasy stories can bring. The first book in this series still has a lot of flaws, and given how long it is, I don’t blame people who give up on the series there. But if you slog through, and slog through Under Wildwood (which is much less of a slog), your efforts will quite possibly be rewarded here. The series lacks the sparkling originality of LOTR and Narnia, or the deep spiritual grounding that those share with the Land of Elyon books. It doesn’t have the innovative creatures of the Spiderwick Chronicles, the twists and character depth of Over the Garden Wall, the wit and world-building of the Artemis Fowl novels, the layers of meta-meaning in A Series of Unfortunate Events, the gothic romance of Labyrinth, or any single character as powerful and memorable as Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching. But it does have a compelling plot and a fantastic atmosphere, and in this installment, it even grows a heart. Overall, I’m glad I read it. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 10, 2018
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Jun 13, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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Hardcover
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0310724392
| 9780310724391
| 0310724392
| 3.96
| 13,126
| Jan 08, 2013
| Jan 08, 2013
|
liked it
|
Seventeen-year-old Sophie is a scullery maid for the cruel, vain Duchess of Hohendorf. The Duchess enjoys sadistically punishing everyone who crosses
Seventeen-year-old Sophie is a scullery maid for the cruel, vain Duchess of Hohendorf. The Duchess enjoys sadistically punishing everyone who crosses her path, but saves a special hatred for Sophie, for the girl is strikingly pretty and the Duchess envies her. Meanwhile, in the nearby fiefdom of Hagenheim, the Duke’s family has taken in an elderly woman on Death’s door. The old servant, Pinnosa, tells the Duke and his two sons, with her dying breath, that Sophie, daughter of the late Duke of Hohendorf, still lives. Sophie matters to the Hagenheim family because she was the betrothed of Valten, Hagenheim’s heir. The betrothal took place when she was an infant and he was five. Two years later, Sophie was apparently dead of one of the many fatal illnesses that cycled through medieval Europe. Valten isn’t sure whether to believe Pinnosa’s story. He’s vaguely curious, but can’t go to Hohendorf anyway because he just broke his leg in a jousting accident. His younger brother Gabe, who’s something of a wild child, thinks that this lead is too interesting to delay investigating. He defies his parents and rides to Hohendorf, (badly) disguised as a pilgrim, to search for his brother’s betrothed. And he finds her—a pretty and genteel lass, who endures the obsessive sneering of the Duchess and the invasive advances of the fiefdom’s huntsman, Lorencz. Sophie can also read, an extremely rare trait in scullery maids but a common one in aristocrats. To the surprise of exactly no one (except Sophie, who has no self-esteem) Gabe starts falling for the girl himself. The Duchess panics, realizing that the handsome and silly young man who just rode into her territory is probably a Hagenheim agent here to rescue Sophie. So she imprisons him in her dungeon while sending Lorencz to drag the girl into the forest and kill her. Gabe escapes, and Lorencz is unable to finish the dreadful deed demanded of him. Sophie and Gabe find each other, but now they’re lost in the wilderness, with a murderous duchess sending agents to kill them, no food or medical supplies, and no quick, safe way to Hagenheim… Content Advisory Violence: Lorencz slams Sophie’s head against a tree to knock her cold, and tries to stab her but decides against it. Gabe and Sophie both get wounded with arrows; his injury becomes infected and needs several weeks’ tending. (view spoiler)[ The Duchess stabs Sophie in the heart, but the knife gets caught in the wooden cross pendant the girl always wears under her clothing, and she survives. The Duchess falls into a brook and is drowned by her heavy clothing while fleeing the scene of the crime. (hide spoiler)] Sex: Lorencz hits on the naïve Sophie in a way that makes her decidedly uncomfortable, even forcing a kiss on her once. She’s more amenable to the advances of Gabe, since he at least appears to be pious, and is certainly nicer than Lorencz. But Gabe also breaks the rules of polite behavior in those days, kissing his brother’s fiancée a few times. Sophie immediately likes Gabe back, but feels uncomfortable about their relationship until the engagement to Valten is formally sundered. Another servant girl brags about having sex with Lorencz, and it’s unclear to what degree she was exaggerating or making things up. Language: Nothing. Substance Abuse: Nothing. Politics and Religion: There are a LOT of references to Jesus, using language that can’t be traced further back than the American revival movements of the nineteenth century. That said, there are actual traces of medieval Catholicism in this story, making it a huge improvement on the first book in the series. Conclusions The Fairest Beauty is a sequel to The Healer’s Apprentice, featuring the children of Wilhelm and Rose from that book in young adulthood, and it’s a marked improvement on the earlier installment in the series. Sophie, while still a bit overscrupulous and too quiet, is actually somewhat proactive. She takes measures (such as carrying a hidden dagger) to protect herself, and is capable of lying or misleading if she can save her friends or herself that way. The “I can’t love him because he’s betrothed to another” plot is repeated from Healer’s Apprentice, but this actually works in Dickerson’s favor, showing that she’s rectified many of the initial flaws in the series. Sophie shares Rose’s virtues but is actually portrayed as a human. Gabe takes a lot more after his indolent uncle Rupert than his uptight father, and that’s mostly a good thing. He’s an attention-hungry rascal, but he admits this much about himself and asks Sophie (and by proxy, the reader) to be patient with him and love him in spite of that. Sometimes he overestimates his own charm, but plenty of lovable antiheroes before him have done the same. [image] Gabe's not as cool as Hawkeye Pierce, granted, but who is? I still like him very much. The Duchess doesn’t bring anything new to the table as far as “interpretations of the Evil Queen from Snow White” goes, and her motivation is never given the airtime it needs. But unlike Moncore from the first book, she is true to her archetype, has a motive that at least sort-of makes sense, and is not prone to histrionics and demon-summoning. That’s all win. I thought her death sequence was drawn out past the point of best dramatic effect, but that’s a matter of subjective taste. She’s a perfectly serviceable villain. This time around, you can actually tell what fairytale the story is based on. Some of the symbols—especially the apple—are forced in way too hard, and it’s unclear to me how the Duchess disguised herself as an old beggar since there’s no magic in this universe. But I really did like the portrayal of the “Seven Dwarves” who in this version are a diverse crew of outcasts from medieval society. They were sweet guys, and I hope to see more of them in the series. I’m also curious about the development of Valten and his sister Margaretha, who apparently get main character duties in The Captive Maiden and The Princess Spy. So while I had a lot of problems with the first book in this series, it’s improved a lot since then, and I’m glad I gave it another shot. My complete review of The Healer’s Apprentice will be up soon. Looking forward to the rest of the books in this series. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 07, 2018
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Jun 13, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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Paperback
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1250006325
| 9781250006325
| 1250006325
| 4.03
| 71,420
| Nov 15, 2010
| Feb 28, 2012
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it was ok
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Torn picks up right where Switched left off. Wendy Everly has just found out that she is the heir to the throne of Förening, a Trylle (troll) enclave
Torn picks up right where Switched left off. Wendy Everly has just found out that she is the heir to the throne of Förening, a Trylle (troll) enclave in Minnesota, hidden from human eyes unless those humans are taken there, or invited in. Angry with her mother, cold Queen Elora, for imposing tough restrictions on her—including driving away Finn, her bodyguard/boyfriend of a few days—Wendy runs away, as seventeen-year-olds often do. She brings along Rhys, the human boy with whom she was switched at birth. She convinces herself that her main goal in this endeavor is to introduce her adopted brother, Matt, to Rhys, his long-lost biological sibling. But getting away from her mom and the stifling rules of the Trylle Court is definitely part of it. The three kids have scarcely met up when they are kidnapped by the Vittra, a rival nation of trolls. Oren, king of the Vittra, cares nothing for the two human boys in his dungeon, but has a particular interest in Wendy. (view spoiler)[He is the ex-husband of Elora and Wendy’s father (hide spoiler)]. Much as Wendy dislikes her mom and Trylle society, she finds them marginally more palatable than (view spoiler)[her apparent father and his minions (hide spoiler)], and she has no intention of cooperating with him. She does, however, find a motherly/big sister figure in Sara, Oren’s much younger, kinder wife. And she feels a peculiar connection with Loki, an irrepressible Vittra tracker/guard who treats her well while Oren holds her and her adoptive brothers prisoner. Soon Finn and his colleague Duncan arrive to rescue the three captives, and they successfully escape, helped by Loki for unclear reasons… Back in Förening, Tove, the Trylle boy with the great psychokinetic powers, resumes training Wendy in her own power of Meanwhile, Finn continues to be cold and distant, which frustrates Wendy to no end. Doesn’t he remember all their stolen kisses and fervent glances? He says he does, but Duty Comes First. He can’t risk messing up Elora’s plans for the future of the royal line. Thus, he refuses to be more than civil to Wendy, even though it tortures her. Back in Vittra-land, Oren is pretty annoyed that his powerful daughter escaped, and Loki contrives to go after her alone. He claims that he’ll convince her to return to her father’s palace, but what is this rascal really after? Content Advisory Violence: A lot of punching and kicking and combatants flying through windows. Little blood shown. Pretty much the same as the last time around. Sex: The raciest material in here is Wendy’s occasional recollection of her makeout session with Finn towards the end of the previous book. They start snogging again at the very end of this installment, but are interrupted by his father. Wendy and Rhys stumble on (view spoiler)[Matt and Willa canoodling on a bed; the two older kids are quite embarrassed to be caught in this situation. Wendy also gets kissed by Loki, who feels that the two of them are bound by destiny. He wants her to run away with him, but she refuses, confused by all the sudden changes in her life (hide spoiler)]. The Chancellor continues to be an old perv who thinks creepy thoughts about Wendy and various other women young enough to be his granddaughter, much to the disgust of Tove, who can hear his thoughts. Language: One or two uses of “sh**” and some minor cuss words. No F-bombs this time. Substance Abuse: Everybody lightly imbibes champagne at Trylle festivities. Rhys and Wendy are too young to legally drink, but they are under adult supervision on these occasions, so I’m not sure if it’s all that problematic. Nightmare Fuel: The hobgoblins are kind of gross and ugly, although nothing we haven’t already seen in Labyrinth or the Spiderwick Chronicles. What makes them nightmare fuel is the fact that two human-looking Vittra can conceive such a monstrosity. [image] Conclusions The Trylle trilogy has a goofy-sounding title, and the books themselves have so far been, well, goofy. That said, this series is a lot more pleasant than other examples of paranormal YA from the same era. Why is this so? Because the melodrama in this is a lot less intense than many of its contemporaries. It’s not constantly squawking about the end of the world (which never arrives, because sequels and money) like the Maximum Ride series. It’s not swollen and baroque and using every fantasy creature but the kitchen sink, like the Mortal Instruments. And while there remains some definite overlap with Twilight, the “love triangle” here isn’t all that much of a love triangle. Finn’s feelings for Wendy are really just hormones, and he can easily cut himself off from her without any visible pain. Loki, meanwhile, is earnest and full of hope. He likes her not just for her looks, but for some strange affinity he senses between the two of them. He’s a sap, but he’s sincere enough to sell it. I actually like Loki. Unlike Finn, he has an actual personality—snarky, flirtatious, kind of stupid but surprisingly brave, in case you were wondering—and his chemistry with Wendy doesn’t feel nearly as forced. During book one, I found Finn tolerable but boring. When Loki showed up, I wondered if Finn was necessary for the story at all. He almost disappears about halfway through this book and only flares up again at the end. Wendy's still an idiot. She hasn't listened to the Beatles in years and doesn't like chocolate, all of which makes me seriously question her sanity. But by the end of this book, she has decided to put her angst on hold and go through with something uncomfortable to help out her future queendom. Good job, Wendy. The young supporting cast—Matt, Willa, Tove, Rhys, and even Duncan—are all actually rather likeable. Queen Elora turned out to be a more complex, interesting, and empathetic character once her backstory is told. Oren so far is a pretty one-dimensional villain, but I thought Elora was one-dimensional in Switched, so he too might improve upon closer acquaintance. Some people have made fun of the world of this series, populated as it is with beautiful trolls. But there is actual precedent for that in Norse mythology and Scandinavian folklore. Some of their trolls were monstrous and brutish, like the three who harass Thorin & Co. in The Hobbit , but others were humanoid and fair and crafty like the folk in these stories. For a much better YA treatment of these creatures, see East by Edith Pattou. So far, the Trylle series is definitely silly, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s fast-paced and enjoyable over all. I’m curious to see how it all ends. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 07, 2018
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Jun 13, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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Paperback
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0062059998
| 9780062059994
| 0062059998
| 4.14
| 730,806
| May 06, 2014
| May 06, 2014
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really liked it
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The very pretty cover photograph of The One gives the whole thing away, but that’s alright. This is one of those books where the ending was fairly eas
The very pretty cover photograph of The One gives the whole thing away, but that’s alright. This is one of those books where the ending was fairly easy to call, and the journey mattered more than the destination anyway. (Also, the gowns on the covers are blue, red, and white. Because the girl's name is America. I just caught that). As the teen drama of the Selection process continues, the Northern Rebels make diplomatic overtures to Maxon and America, whom they believe to be sympathetic to their cause. Our heroine is going to learn a lot about her country, her father, Maxon, and even Celeste and Aspen. The opulent life at the palace is revealed as the façade it is. Before the Selection ends, there will be great change. And with all major social change comes bloodshed. Content Advisory Violence: The beginning and climax of the book both contain a shoot-out. I don’t remember any notable casualties from the first skirmish, but the later one turns into a massacre (view spoiler)[with three major character deaths, two of which were really sad. Another major character dies off-page, and while his family claims he had a heart complaint, it appears more likely that he was assassinated for knowing too much. (hide spoiler)] King Clarkson continues to beat and verbally abuse his son. America is caught in a skirmish off the palace grounds and is badly wounded. Sex: Max and America spend a night kissing and snuggling in their undergarments. They discuss going further but decide that that can wait until after the royal wedding. Early in the book, the girls are watching the guards work out with their shirts off and America blurts out that Max’s body is the equal of any man there. This leads to an awkward conversation where we find out exactly how intimate he’s been with each girl there—which is not very. I could have sworn that book two said he and Celeste had slept together, but I might have misunderstood. Language: Celeste (view spoiler)[lovingly (hide spoiler)] calls America “you bitch” at one point. Substance Abuse: Kriss becomes uncharacteristically confrontational at a party and America wonders if her friend has hit the champagne a little too hard. Nightmare Fuel: The book makes it very clear that getting shot is not fun. Conclusions In The One, the Selection series finally comes of age. There’s still plenty of pretty dresses and stupid misunderstandings, but the catty girl fights are firmly in the past, as is (for the most part) the love triangle. America, at long last, starts paying attention to what’s going on around her and noticing other people’s needs. There’s also lots of positive development for two characters I had absolutely despised in the first two books, which was pretty cool. My only major complaint with this one was that Max—the rock of the story up until this point—started acting like an impulsive jerk about twenty pages from the end. He snapped out of it quickly, but it seemed out of character and just there for drama. Then again, he’s only seventeen. And his father is a monster. Cass also leaves some world-building threads dangling, such as the conflict with the Southern rebels, but there are two additional books after this, so I guess she’ll address that there. This series ended (at least the initial trilogy) on a much stronger note than I expected going in. It’s a cute, often silly, surprisingly poignant mix of dystopia, chick flick and fairytale that should never work but somehow does. Max is one of the sweetest male leads in a YA series in some time. America starts out a world-class idiot but eventually grows into a heroine worthy of respect. Aspen is a pain, but he fades into the background like he should. And some of the supporting characters will surprise and refresh you. (view spoiler)[Celeste and America have the cutest former-enemy friendship since Kim and Lindsay on Freaks and Geeks. (hide spoiler)] I liked this book. I’m curious to see where this series goes now. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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May 11, 2018
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May 16, 2018
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May 10, 2018
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Hardcover
| |||||||||||||||
1250006317
| 9781250006318
| 1250006317
| 3.87
| 101,490
| Jul 05, 2010
| Jan 03, 2012
|
it was ok
|
Switched begins with a flashback. Our narrator, a seventeen-year-old named Wendy Everly, tells us the occasion that she first became aware that she wa
Switched begins with a flashback. Our narrator, a seventeen-year-old named Wendy Everly, tells us the occasion that she first became aware that she was a “monster.” She was six years old and throwing a tantrum at her own perfectly nice birthday party. But we can’t quite dismiss little Wendy as nothing but a brat, because her father died very shortly before her birthday. Wendy storms back to the kitchen to yell at her mother for buying her a chocolate cake when Mommy knows full well that Wendy doesn’t like chocolate—this is the reader’s first major clue that something’s wrong with Wendy. For this, the spoiled child deserves perhaps to be sent to bed early, lose dessert privileges, or get bopped on the head with a rolled-up newspaper. But no, Wendy’s mother declares that the little girl is a monster and no offspring of hers. She stabs at Wendy erratically with a large knife, and probably would have killed her had not eleven-year-old Matt, her biological son, stepped in just there. As is, Wendy has a giant scar on her stomach that will stay forever. Fast-forward eleven years. Matt and Wendy live with their aunt Maggie, their mother having been institutionalized shortly after the knife incident. Matt has done all right for himself, but Wendy has bombed out of several public schools, and has a rep for being sullen, difficult and rather stupid, all of which is true. There’s a boy in one of Wendy’s classes who stares at her. He has black hair and pale skin and beautiful dark eyes, and his name is Finn. On the day our story begins, Wendy decides to ask him why he stares. “Everyone stares at you,” he replies with no visible emotion. “You’re very attractive.” He’s a lot like every other sulky, leather-jacket-wearing, late 2000s paranormal YA love interest, but unlike Edward Cullen or Jace Wayland, Finn just spits it right out. Credit where credit is due. Why is he named Finn, though? A guy named Finn is almost always a wholesome character. He’s supposed to be a farm boy who shelters fugitive princesses and wears the sweaters his momma knitted for him, or a former Stormtrooper with a heart full of empathy for Resistance pilots, scavenger orphans, mechanics, and space goats. Same goes for a lad named Ben, James, Sam, or Will. The emotionally-unavailable bad boy with a hidden heart of gold archetype is more likely to be named something like Nick or Jack. Finn also tells Wendy that he’s noticed her ability to think something at someone and make them change their mind. She has always been able to do this—say, she looks at an angry teacher and thinks “You aren’t going to send me to the principal” and the teacher, a bit befuddled, sits down and tells her “You don’t have to go to the principal’s office.” Sometimes she wonders if this is what her mom meant about her being a monster. At any rate, it frightens her that Finn (or anyone, for that matter) knows of this talent of hers. She uses this talent to persuade Matt, who knows better and is very worried, to drive her to the asylum for an audience with their mom. Wendy interrogates the woman but comes away with little she didn’t already know. Her mother raves that Wendy, as a baby, somehow disposed of Michael, the mother’s biological second son, and substituted herself. Matt dismisses this as the ranting of a lunatic but his sister thinks there might be some truth to it. Wendy goes to the school dance for the first time ever, solely to talk with Finn some more, but he says something callous, she becomes enraged, and she hurriedly leaves before he can explain. Good thing he just decided to climb through her bedroom window and explain it to her anyway. This is one of a few spots where the book treads a little too close to Twilight, although given the changeling theme, it could also be a nod to Peter Pan (our heroine’s name is Wendy, after all) or Labyrinth (albeit Jareth is much, much cooler than Finn). Did I say changeling? Turns out that Wendy is not only adopted, she’s not even technically human. She belongs to a race of creatures from Norse folklore called the Trylle—known to humans as trolls, but not to be confused with the monsters that live under bridges and/or eat jellied Dwarves. [image] Nope, these trolls—er, Trylle—look human enough, although they’re prettier than most of us and might have a green undertone to their skin. The Trylle culture is dying out. For the past several generations they have swapped their royal/high-ranking babies with human infants, so the Trylle babies can acquire wealth and education while in human society, then bring at least some of that back to their true people once they return. Finn is a Tracker, a low-ranking Trylle whose job is to find adolescent changelings and bring them home. And Wendy is the only daughter of the Trylle Queen, the inexorable Elora. Finn wants Wendy to come to the hidden Trylle stronghold in Minnesota with him, but she hedges, thinking of the worry she’d cause her aunt and especially her brother. Then she gets attacked by a rival band of Trylle, called the Vittra, and realizes she endangers her human family if she stays… Content Advisory Violence: Stylized, action-movie style fights between the Trylle and the Vittra. Very little actual weaponry used. Lots of punching and flying through windows. No gorier than the average Rick Riordan book. Sex: Finn and Wendy make out a few times, despite not knowing each other well at all. The night before he has to leave the settlement, he spends snuggling in bed with her—snuggling is all they do. Before that, she suspected that her mother had a creepy, Mrs. Robinson-like relationship with him; in reality, (view spoiler)[Elora had been in love with Finn’s father and had some sort of maternal feeling for him, which she squelched as soon as she realized he liked her daughter and was a threat to the Trylle aristocracy. (hide spoiler)] Elora is currently having an affair with a Trylle lord, the father of one of Wendy’s new friends, which is thankfully not shown in any detail. Rhys invites Wendy to join him for a Lord of the Rings marathon and she falls asleep on his couch. Finn gets there and assumes the absolute worst, despite a lack of any real evidence. Language: There’s one F-bomb and a variety of less pungent four-letter words in here. Substance Abuse: Social champagne drinking, including by the underage and very awkward Wendy. Nightmare Fuel: Nothing. Politics and Religion: Nothing. Conclusion Switched is definitely part of the post-Twilight paranormal trend: awkward brown-haired heroine, sulky love interest with no concept of personal space, glamorous hidden society in some rural part of America….too much melodrama for a story that just started and characters we barely know, and prose that veers from fine to patchy. This paperback edition includes four bonus chapters called “The Vittra Attack.” The publisher labels this a short story but it isn’t—it has no arc of its own and is hard to follow until you finally see where it connects to the main body of the story. These four chapters are from the POV of a Vittra named Loki, whom I assure you I was not picturing as Tom Hiddleston with long black hair. [image] Ahem. Loki drives the getaway car for the two Vittra who tried to capture Wendy. He gets pushed around by the Vittra king, but is close to their queen, for some reason. Loki is never shown or mentioned in the book proper, so I don’t know why Hocking considered him important enough for his own bonus chapters. At any rate, the book would have been improved if his chapters were woven into the main book—it would have added at least some sense of urgency. It’s silly, fast-paced, not terribly deep, and enjoyable enough that I’ll probably read the second book. It’s a good deal better than the aforementioned Twilight Saga or the Mortal Instruments series, but not nearly as much fun as the Percy Jackson books. If you want a melodramatic YA urban fantasy trilogy that’s actually mostly good, though, check out A.G. Howard’s Splintered trilogy. It has one very annoying major character, but the prose and worldbuilding are solid. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Apr 14, 2018
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Apr 19, 2018
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Apr 18, 2018
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Paperback
| |||||||||||||||
006202471X
| 9780062024718
| B00A2KDGLI
| 3.98
| 8,643
| Sep 25, 2012
| Sep 25, 2012
|
liked it
|
Congratulations, Colin Meloy, for producing a second installment that was noticeably better than the first! A few months after Prue McKeel and Curtis M Congratulations, Colin Meloy, for producing a second installment that was noticeably better than the first! A few months after Prue McKeel and Curtis Mehlberg entered the Impassible Wilderness to rescue Prue’s baby brother from an evil sorceress, life has returned to mostly normal for the McKeel family, although Prue is struggling in school and her parents don’t know why. The Mehlbergs have had no such luck. Curtis is still missing, and the parents are so desperate to find him that they flew to Turkey, leaving their two daughters, Rachel and Elsie, at the decidedly creepy Unthank Home for Wayward Youth. Meanwhile Curtis has been happily training as a bandit in the Wildwood, almost never remembering his parents and sisters. The mad Dowager Governess was defeated (although we all know the drill with fantasy “deaths” without a body to show for it) leaving chaos in the wood. Warring factions have sprung up and no one seems to know who the leader should be. Iphigenia, Chief Mystic and priestess of the Great Tree, insists that Prue needs to come back if the Wood should be saved. The girl’s destiny has not yet run its course. Back in Portland, Prue confides in a concerned new teacher, Ms. Thennis. Prue suspects the Wood is calling her back, but what’s wrong now? Content Advisory Violence: Like the first book—not much, but what’s there is startlingly bloody for a middle-grade book. We see a shape-shifter get stabbed, and her shape changes from her human to animal form as it dies. Assassins are sent after children, and while they are unsuccessful, that’s not for lack of effort or menace on their part. Joffrey Unthank forces children to labor in his factory, and some have been maimed or terribly injured in said factory. Some rebellious kids burn down a building. Sex: Prue notices that Curtis’ shoulders are starting to broaden. That’s it. Language: None. Substance Abuse: None. Nightmare Fuel: The aforementioned shape-shifter is described in a frightening way, and one of the illustrations portraying her in mid-morph gave me the willies. That said, it’s a lot less scary than the first book. Know your kids. Kids, know yourselves. Miscellaneous: There’s a villainous Ukrainian character who speaks in a stereotypical accent and generally acts like an evil agent from the Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoon. She’s not super offensive, but she still comes off as a product of accidental xenophobia. Conclusions The first volume in the Wildwood series, simply entitled Wildwood, really rubbed me the wrong way for a variety of reasons. The characters were hard to empathize with, the story took too long to get where it was going, and the whole thing was so hipster it had never heard of itself. Not to mention that the narrator’s fondness for obscure vocabulary words made it hard to picture what was happening at some points. [image] However, the book had a lot of potential. It stole from the best—C.S. Lewis, Terry Pratchett, Jim Henson, and a wee dash of J.R.R. Tolkien at the end—while bringing its own Old Americana aesthetic and an agreeably spooky mood. The illustrations by Carson Ellis (who happens to be Meloy’s wife and album-cover artist) were charming pieces of folk art. The first book dashed my hopes, but for some reason the second one called to me. And while not the greatest general-audience fantasy novel ever written, it’s actually quite agreeable. The addition of Joffrey Unthank and his orphanage/factory is straight outta Lemony Snicket, which both is and isn’t an improvement on the first book. It’s an improvement because a lot of the weirder “real world” parts make sense if the “real world” in this universe is a Snicketesque realm of absurdism. Yet it’s also a step back because there was no indication in book one that this world was like that. It’s a good ret-con, but still a ret-con. And even in such a surreal place, Mom and Dad Mehlberg leaving their two remaining children in such a place while they go to search for their son doesn’t jive with what little we know about them. Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire wound up in situations this bad and worse, but their parents were dead. Big difference. [image] On a related note, the almost bloodless battle between the kids and the Industrial Titans’ goons was underwhelming after the spectacle at the Plinth in the first book, wherein people actually died and there were fantastical creatures. This one felt a little too much like the end of a '90s family comedy. It just did not go with the tone of the previous book, or this one up until that point. As for the Titans themselves, Big Business being the villain has become cliché, but it usually doesn’t share antagonist duties with faceless magical forces, so watching the heroes battle both in Wildwood Imperium should actually be interesting. The hipster milieu from the first book has also been greatly toned down. It has receded to the background, where it’s just fine. Prue and Curtis no longer try to wriggle out of their destined duties, and they certainly aren’t ranting anymore about emotional support while everyone else is marching off to die. They have figured out that pacifism is a good policy in Portland, but will not save you from an evil sorceress or a shape-shifting assassin. When one lives in two different worlds, one can accommodate two different worldviews. Also no more posturing about expensive jeans or coffee. They were actually believable twelve-year-olds this time around. And Curtis got called out for being selfish and oblivious—by Prue, by the narrator, and by his own conscience. Character development. It’s a good thing. Rachel and Elsie, Curtis’ sisters, are not terribly unique—Rachel is a typical sulky goth teen, Elsie is a typical bright-eyed little girl who brings her doll everywhere—but they were believable and likeable enough. They reminded me of both Susan and Lucy Pevensie from Narnia, and Wirt and Greg from Over the Garden Wall. Both very nice sets of sibling characters to be reminded of. [image] [image] The most interesting new addition to the ensemble hasn’t even shown up yet. Remember Alexei, son of Alexandra? When he died, she went mad with grief and forced two Daedalus-like geniuses to rebuild him as an automaton, only for Alexei to figure out what he really was and destroy himself. Well, Prue has been told by the Great Tree that her task is to revive Alexei somehow, that only this can save the Wood. Some reviewers think this refers to an act of dark magic, and while it might, I can see another possibility: Prue must descend into this universe’s Land of the Dead, find Alexei, and help him “return to the Sunlit Lands” (h/t The Silver Chair ). I really hope this is what Meloy means: the descent and return of figures like Persephone, Dionysus, Orpheus and Psyche are some of the most potent stories in all of mythology. [image] All told, this was a decent book, much better than I expected one in this series to be, and my curiosity is piqued for the third and final installment. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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May 03, 2018
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May 08, 2018
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Jan 22, 2018
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Hardcover
| |||||||||||||||
0062059963
| 9780062059963
| 0062059963
| 3.94
| 820,303
| Apr 23, 2013
| Apr 23, 2013
|
liked it
|
The Elite picks up right where
The Selection
left off, just as if it were originally one book drawn out into three volumes (my suspicion, at any r
The Elite picks up right where
The Selection
left off, just as if it were originally one book drawn out into three volumes (my suspicion, at any rate). Only six girls are left from the Selection: sweet Marlee, amiable Kriss, conniving Celeste, gracious Elise, ditzy Natalie, and emotionally volatile America. America, our heroine, believes that she and Prince Maxon have something special. But meanwhile he’s friendly with all the other girls, and she, for reasons I will never understand, is not quite over her old boyfriend Aspen, so they're all square. Aspen, hereafter known as Snake Tooth (hat tip to my friend Nicki Chapelway for the perfect nickname) now works at the palace as a guard, because he has good reason to be there and totally isn’t stalking America or anything. The rebellion is, in fits and spurts, becoming more violent, and at least one group of rebels has clarified that they intend to cut off the royal line. They start attacking the Elite girls and their families, since they are now symbols of that line. With help from Max, America accesses the journals of Gregory Iléa, founder of the monarchy, and what she reads makes her question the legitimacy of the whole country. But unfortunately, it takes her about three hundred pages of pining for Snake Tooth and getting paranoid about Max to think, “Hey, those journals are worth a look.” Content Advisory Violence: The rebels attack the palace again, and this time it is implied that there were actually casualties. A few people get badly wounded in these attacks. More unsettling is the public caning of an Elite girl and her guard boyfriend—it’s high treason for an Elite to entertain any suitor but the Prince, and only (view spoiler)[ the pleading of Max and Queen Amberly convinced the King, who’s really a piece of work, not to execute them (hide spoiler)]. (view spoiler)[Max’s father regularly beats him, and the young man has an accumulation of ugly scars on his back. We see one wound while it’s fresh and bleeding. (hide spoiler)] Another dumb catfight sends Celeste (who started it, of course) and America to the ER. Sex: America gets in muchas smoochies with Max, and one time with Aspen when she was angry at Max because reasons. None of these scenes are as stupidly horny as the one in the beginning of book one. (view spoiler)[Celeste jumps Max in a hallway and kisses him forcefully, letting half her dress fall off. America catches them. America is livid, Max is ashamed, and Celeste is just happy being evil. It’s implied that this isn’t the first time Celeste has done this to the lonely, exploitable Prince—or that she’s stopped at kissing him, either. (hide spoiler)] (view spoiler)[Supposedly, Carter and Marlee were caught in a fairly compromising situation when they were arrested. They’re married now, hidden away in the palace somewhere. America asks Marlee if consummating the marriage was painful, and Marlee tells her it was a bit uncomfortable. (hide spoiler)] Language: None. Substance Abuse: Some light social wine-drinking with the Italian diplomats. Anything Else: Pretty much everyone in this culture, except perhaps America’s parents, are judgmental cynics who aren’t pleasant to read about. Even sweet Max has his jaded moments. Conclusion This series is still goofy, with a loathsome decoy love interest for both main characters, and seems to have no idea how to handle its dystopian elements. But it’s also frothy and clean, and has occasional flashes of insight (view spoiler)[(especially the scene with Max and America at the end wherein his wounds are revealed, and she realizes that her actions with Aspen have been as damaging as his with Celeste). (hide spoiler)] Thank you, everybody who enjoyed my commentary on this! I shall see you soon, when I tackle The One ! ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jan 31, 2018
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Feb 02, 2018
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Jan 04, 2018
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Hardcover
| |||||||||||||||
0764218131
| 9780764218132
| 0764218131
| 3.94
| 9,075
| Dec 2016
| Dec 06, 2016
|
it was amazing
|
Jane Bell is a young widow running the family inn of her late husband, John. Brought up as a gentlewoman, Jane was not raised to work, and struggles w
Jane Bell is a young widow running the family inn of her late husband, John. Brought up as a gentlewoman, Jane was not raised to work, and struggles with maintaining a business. She gets help from her farrier, Gabriel Locke, but little to none from her brother-in-law Patrick. And Jane is beginning to learn that John was keeping secrets from her, financial and maybe worse. As if Jane weren’t stressed out enough, she has to make room for her uptight, disapproving mother-in-law, Thora. Thora’s presence is not entirely unwelcome—she knows this inn better than anyone. But Thora only cares about the establishment. She never liked Jane, and the younger woman suspects that the elder Mrs. Bell wants her to fail. There’s also a hotelier named Mr. James Drake, who just bought Jane’s childhood home and plans to rehabilitate it as a coaching inn to rival hers. But while he’s set up a competition between himself and Jane, James doesn’t want to be enemies… Julie Klassen weaves an intricate web of friendships and courtships forged and sundered and sometimes healed in this novel, the first in a series. The characters and their relationships are very well-developed. Even though Thora garners two suitors and Jane gets three, everyone is so low-key and subtle and English about it that the story never feels like a soap opera. No content advisory included because none is needed. YA and middle-grade readers might find the subject matter dull, but there’s nothing in here that would be inappropriate for them to read. The Christian element of the novel is very discrete and well-integrated; the characters act consistently like Anglicans from Regency England. While marketed as Christian fiction, I can see non-Christian readers who enjoy the Regency genre enjoying it thoroughly. There is an adorable, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it bonus for Jane Austen fans in the last few chapters. Nothing shall induce me to give it away. Are you looking for a cozy historical fiction free of violence, sex, and melodrama? Are you a fan of Cranford, Downton Abbey or Lark Rise to Candleford? Then I warmly recommend The Innkeeper of Ivy Hill. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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May 19, 2018
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May 24, 2018
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Dec 20, 2017
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Paperback
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1250084792
| 9781250084798
| 1250084792
| 3.48
| 1,946
| Jan 02, 2018
| Jan 02, 2018
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None
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Notes are private!
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0
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not set
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not set
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Dec 19, 2017
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Paperback
| ||||||||||||||||
1613125348
| 9781613125342
| 1613125348
| 4.18
| 28,303
| Jan 07, 2014
| Jan 07, 2014
|
really liked it
|
Unhinged picks up a year after Splintered left off. Alyssa is about ready to graduate high school, and from there she intends to move to London with J
Unhinged picks up a year after Splintered left off. Alyssa is about ready to graduate high school, and from there she intends to move to London with Jeb, her supposedly artsy boyfriend who acts like a Neanderthal and has no memory of their adventure in Wonderland. Her parents, understandably, are worried about her moving across the ocean with a man, and encourage her to at least marry him first—although they really don’t like Jeb at all (I don’t blame them) and are trying to hold on to their daughter as long as possible. Alyssa has made grudging peace with her netherling identity—a human-looking creature with gauzy wings and sparkles below its eyes, whose abilities range from the cute (communicating with bugs) to the macabre (painting with one’s own blood). But she really wants to forget her royal lineage and be “normal,” and she resents the visits of Morpheus, the dashing Wonderland leader who appears in her dreams to teach her magic. But Alyssa left a lot of trouble behind her in Wonderland, and since she’s not there to fix it, it will follow her until she gives in. What follows is a surprisingly thrilling tale with a great theme: the foolishness of trying to thwart destiny. Alyssa and her mom both learn this the hard way. Content Advisory Violence: There’s fairly gruesome, Tim Burton-esque imagery throughout. People and things get swallowed by evil bookshelves (it makes sense in context) and spit out as grotesque caricatures of themselves. Alyssa sees some scary things in her paintings and dreams, such as a woman getting swallowed whole by a flesh-eating plant, or a dead man bound in cobwebs. Our heroine is stalked through the school halls by what appears to be an evil clown toy come to life. Sex: Jeb and Alyssa kiss way too much—especially since he’s such a loathsome character—and there’s a few times where they consider consummating their relationship on the spot (nothing of the kind actually happens). But luckily Alyssa realizes that she has growing feelings for Morpheus, and she kisses him too. One of Jeb’s clients wants him to paint portraits of her in faerie-themed lingerie, and Alyssa is understandably hurt. When Morpheus gets gravely injured, Alyssa sets him up on her bed, and he jokes that he always knew he’d end up there. Language: A few uses of “bloody” from Morph. Substance Abuse: Some characters eat magic Wonderland mushrooms to help them shrink. Obviously not a literal drug reference, but given what the book is based on, a lot of people will be thinking of drugs already. Anything Else: Nope. Conclusion Unhinged is a fantastic second installment, capitalizing on the strengths of the first book while expanding the world and its lore, developing the characters, and upping the stakes. Howard subtly outdoes many of her fellow YA authors by taking common tropes—especially that old “I kept this secret from you to protect you” chestnut—and examining how a real person with human emotions would react to that. While many of these writers still look at things from a myopic, adolescent perspective, she actually seems able to separate herself from Alyssa, and look at the girl’s angst and confusion with a knowing smile. That said, while Alyssa makes a number of questionable decisions, she has more psychological depth than the average YA urban-fantasy heroine, and her actions are usually believable. She insists that she’s in love with Jeb, but really she’s infatuated with him because he represents safety and sameness to her. Whereas Morpheus, who any reader can see is the superior catch, is repeatedly rejected because he’s asking her to grow up, put aside childish things, and become what she was born to be. Alyssa, whose life has never been stable, understandably clings to those things that have gotten her through up until now: her painting, her skateboarding, her Hot Topic wardrobe and makeup, her crush on Jeb, her friendship with Jenara, and her hatred of Taelor. Then Morpheus appears, and he asks her to Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams [image] But she’s scared, understandably, and refuses. [image] Yet he won’t give up on her. He teaches her, and tests her, knowing she can handle any challenge he gives her. [image] And slowly, she begins to realize that she’s not made for this world, but for that one, and she is even granted a vision to prove it: [image] Jeb is a regrettable character with no need to exist. He is the long-lost twin, or maybe distant ancestor, of Aspen from The Selection, albeit in fairness The Selection is a chick-flick with dystopia sprinkles and a love triangle comes with the territory. But there is enough going on in the Splintered series that the love triangle is needless. Take away Jeb’s status as Alyssa’s boyfriend and all he does is get captured and force her to act. That’s nothing that a family member—say, a younger sibling—couldn’t do (see Labyrinth). I have a feeling that this is going to end the same way as Garth Nix’s Keys to the Kingdom series did, but I guess I’ll find out when I get there. All in all, this was a superlatively enjoyable YA novel that I happily recommend. Just beware of Jeb. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
|
Jan 17, 2018
|
Jan 24, 2018
|
Dec 19, 2017
|
Hardcover
| |||||||||||||||
1905294719
| 9781905294718
| 1905294719
| 3.98
| 90,708
| Sep 28, 2007
| Sep 28, 2007
|
it was amazing
|
Inkdeath is the epic adventure I expected
Inkheart
and
Inkspell
to be—and as much as I complained about the slow pace, plot meandering, and in
Inkdeath is the epic adventure I expected
Inkheart
and
Inkspell
to be—and as much as I complained about the slow pace, plot meandering, and innumerable characters in the first two books, I can tell you now that all the buildup was worth it. Funke was juggling so many different plots by the end of Inkspell that I was seriously worried that many or all would be dropped or mishandled in the third act, but she surprised me by keeping all of them going until their natural conclusions, and also resisting the temptation to add new ones. Not every writer can do that. (view spoiler)[Dustfinger is dead, Orpheus is abroad in the Inkworld, the Adderhead is immortal but frozen in the death process, Meggie is angry, Resa is pregnant, Fenoglio is racked with guilt, and Mo can’t tell whether he’s himself or the Bluejay these days. Can the Adder be stopped? Can Death itself be undone? Can anyone achieve peace in the Inkworld? Can the people from our world ever return here—or should they? (hide spoiler)] I can’t say much more than this without ruining all the surprises. Content Advisory: It might help to think of this as a very clean book for adults that happens to have a few teens among its many protagonists. Young kids might find it inaccessible and hard to follow—I remember a lot of younger friends who loved the first two books hated this one—and it avoids the melodrama of a typical YA offering. (There is a love triangle, but it’s minor. It is treated like a teen relationship should be, gently but not too seriously, and not given any undue importance). Violence: Various warlords enjoy brutal executions, including flayings and disembowelments. These are never shown, only mentioned. We do, however, see a handful of stabbings. There’s a few non-graphic torture scenes. The Adderhead has fairies killed en masse, thinking that bathing in their blood will alleviate his pain. A warlord threatens to cut out a man’s tongue; a magician sends a prisoner horrifying visions, hoping to drive him to suicide. Orpheus reads a unicorn into being for one of the warlords—so said warlord and his friends can hunt the animal, brutally butcher it, and parade its bloodied corpse through the streets of Ombra City. A dead man lies unburied outside castle walls, and his daughter is put in a cage hanging from a window above him in an attempt to break her spirit. The Piper forces children to work in the silver mines. There’s a panic in the marketplace and three little kids are trampled to death. Sex: Farid walks in on Orpheus yanking a serving-girl onto his lap, and the narrator adds that Orpheus molests all his maids, becomes enraged if they reject his advances, and might spend some of his money on prostitutes. Brianna’s past affair with Cosimo (or his doppelganger) is mentioned a few times. Violante has an obvious crush on Mo—or the Bluejay, rather—and sulks when she finds out he’s already married. Meggie gets a few chaste kisses in with both Farid and the new boyfriend, Doria. Language: A few emphatic “damns!” from Fenoglio and Elinor, usually directed at each other. They’re madly in love, they just don’t know it yet. Substance Abuse: Fenoglio and Orpheus are both described as heavily hitting the booze, the former because he’s depressed, the latter because he’s debauched. Elinor has no patience for Fenoglio’s drinking and tells him so on several occasions. Anything Else to Worry About: The Adderhead’s flesh is rotting on his body even while he lives. No one can bear the stench well enough to go near him—except the Piper, thanks to his fake silver nose. Overall, this is one of the most satisfying conclusions to a fantasy series that I’ve ever read. Warmly recommended. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jan 04, 2018
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Jan 07, 2018
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Jul 30, 2017
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Hardcover
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1481497588
| 9781481497589
| 1481497588
| 3.64
| 101,566
| Sep 26, 2017
| Sep 26, 2017
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really liked it
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The town of Whimsy sits right on the border between the human, humdrum World Beyond and the vast realms of Faerie. It’s been summer in Whimsy and the
The town of Whimsy sits right on the border between the human, humdrum World Beyond and the vast realms of Faerie. It’s been summer in Whimsy and the surrounding territories for as long as anyone can remember. The town is populated by mortals with Craft—artists and artisans. The Fair Folk love refinery but can create nothing of their own, so they rely on these talented humans for clothing, entertainment, decoration, and delicacies. They compensate the artists with whatever enchantment the artist asks for (which usually backfire in spectacular fashion). The Good Folk are too luxurious to last long without their human Craftsmen, and the humans need the patronage of the Good Folk to protect them from monsters and other Good Folk. As with most codependent relationships, this has created resentment. Our narrator is Isobel (not her real name—everyone here needs an alias for their own safety), a seventeen-year-old painter with an uncanny gift. The Fae are notoriously shallow, but Isobel can find the seed of deep emotion in their faces and bring it to the forefront in her portraits. With the many commissions the fairies give her, she is able to support herself, her upper-middle-aged aunt, and her two kid sisters. They are kid sisters in every sense of that word—March and May are about twelve years younger than Isobel, and they used to be goats. Some Fair One turned them into humans but didn’t want the bother of raising them, so Emma and Isobel took them in. Ten years ago, Isobel’s parents were slain by one of the fell beasts from the wood around Whimsy. Another such beast breaks into the fields and accosts our heroine as she walks home from market, but the monster is driven off by a powerful fae—Rook, Prince of the Autumnlands, who happens to be the subject of Isobel’s next portrait. As Rook sits in Isobel’s parlor, she develops a major crush on him, and starts to think he might reciprocate. But she knows that fairy/human affairs can lead only to ruin, and tries to put him out of her mind. So she’s shocked when, after sending him off with his finished portrait, he reappears, paranoid and livid, and demands that she follow him into the wood, to stand trial for an offense he refuses to explain coherently. All he tells her is that something is wrong with the portrait and his fellow fae will be able to use it against him, but she suspects the truth is far worse… Content Advisory Violence: A few vague, scary battles between fairies and monsters occur, which will be detailed under “Nightmare Fuel.” (view spoiler)[Rook breaks off his own finger to rid himself of an iron ring which won’t come off otherwise. [image] (hide spoiler)] Sex: Rook and Isobel kiss passionately in the woods. He has her up against a tree and she’s embracing him when she realizes what danger they’re in and tells him to back off. He does so at once. They kiss a few more times after that in a much more subdued manner. The Spring Court apparently set a trap for the two by putting Isobel in a bedchamber that Rook was bound to wander into once he got drunk enough. He crashes on the bed with her, and she panics, sure that they’re being spied on. She convinces him to turn into a raven so she can hide him among the blankets. He stays in that shape for the rest of the night, fearful for his life and hers. Our two leads accidentally-on-purpose glimpse each other’s toilette while travelling in the forest. A bored fairy turns Isobel into a bunny rabbit. Rook is able to figure out what happened and restore her to her true form—her clothes are still where they fell when she was morphed and she scrambles out of his arms, mortified, to find them. Language: Isobel frequently uses a scatological four-letter word when she’s frustrated. Her little sisters enjoy repeating this word. Substance Abuse: I got nothing. Nightmare Fuel: Where do I even begin? Let’s start with the Alder King, the villain of the piece. He sends zombie-like minions after Rook and Isobel; on one occasion, rotted humanoid and plantlike fae arms claw out of the ground and our protagonists have to beat them away. [image] Later on the King himself appears. He’s humanoid but much larger than a human, swathed in dust, and deranged by the thousands of years that he’s lived. One of the King’s servants is Hemlock, originally the huntsman (technically huntswoman or huntress) of the Winter Court. Hemlock looks more like a tree than a human and is always accompanied by vicious fae hounds (view spoiler)[who, it is implied, turn on her (hide spoiler)]. Hemlock doesn’t even bother trying to look human, but the other fae all maintain beautiful glamours, which only waver when they’re sick or injured. Underneath that, they’re nearly fleshless, bug-eyed, and stretched; think El Greco meets Tim Burton. Even with the glamours, each has a single, grotesque flaw: Gadfly’s fingers are twice as long as they should be, Lark has shark teeth, Aster is as gaunt as a famine victim, Rook’s flaw is a major spoiler. The Fair Folk also put glamours on their food, which is liable to be rotten and crawling with maggots in reality. Conclusions An Enchantment of Ravens is a cool, brief breath of fresh autumn wind. Granted, the Good Folk are [image] —but Margaret Rogerson has largely avoided the overly trendy elements that will make other books in this genre very dated in the next few years. One unfortunate YA trope that does appear is the dreaded insta-love. It could not be more obvious from the beginning that Rook and Isobel will become a couple, and they waste no time in falling. That said, their bickering is a lot of fun, they spend very little time kissing or whining, and both of them are willing to die to save each other and Isobel’s family. One nice touch was how Isobel tells Rook her real name, but never reveals it to the reader. It’s their secret. Aw… As an individual character, particularly a female MC in a YA fantasy, Isobel has a lot going for her. She’s devoted to her Craft. She’s knowledgeable but still awkward, projecting a cynical persona to protect a huge imagination and childlike appreciation for the beauty of nature. So many of the girls in these books get completely mired in their own melodrama, but she never does. She can always distance herself from the nonsense at hand, laughing at it and at her own role in creating it. This is a mark of maturity that will serve her well (view spoiler)[as Queen of the Fair Folk (hide spoiler)]. Rook is one of those vain but deep antiheroes with glorious hair. He’s a familiar archetype, but one with enduring appeal, and Rogerson did a good job balancing his human and inhuman traits. He made me sigh, he made me laugh, and he made me root for him. (view spoiler)[Long live the Autumn King. (hide spoiler)]. These characters live in a vast world with ample room for more adventures. I enjoyed the season-based classifications of the fairy courts, and the forest was one of those magical places where you could just feel the limitless possibilities; anything could happen in there. My only gripe is with the plot. So many things were left unexplained and hurried by in the rush to the next scene. How did the Alder King take over? What was the pain Isobel detected in his eyes? What’s Gadfly’s motivation? (view spoiler)[Is Isobel immortal now? How did that happen? With the Green Well gone, will she still wind up partially cursed like Aster? Is the Good Law sundered for real—and what are the ramifications of that? (hide spoiler)] I don’t need every question answered. Bill Watterson deliberately refused to explain the “Noodle Incident” in Calvin & Hobbes because he figured that leaving it blank made it funnier—every reader could fill it in with the most over-the-top thing they could imagine. Likewise, while it would be interesting to know the origins of the Lady of the Green Kirtle from The Silver Chair or Supreme Leader Snoke from The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi —or why/how Elsa from Frozen obtained her powers—or why that Sugar Bowl was so important in A Series of Unfortunate Events—or literally any information at all about Jareth and his Labyrinth— but those things are not needed to understand the story, and too much time spent on them might destroy the tale’s momentum. Today, YA fantasies tend to err heavily on the side of over-explaining the lore. I appreciated that this one did not, but you could argue that it under-explains instead. Balance is nice. Rogerson’s prose is agreeable—fairly descriptive and old-fashioned, bursting with imagery, snarky without being harsh. Overall I really enjoyed this book. Recommended for fans of Robin McKinley and Sharon Shinn, Labyrinth enthusiasts, and shippers of Hawkeye/Margaret (M*A*S*H) or Kylo/Rey (Star Wars). ...more |
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1
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Jun 13, 2018
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Jul 05, 2018
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Jun 15, 2017
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Hardcover
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0439554802
| 9780439554800
| 0439554802
| 4.05
| 5,605
| Aug 01, 2003
| Mar 01, 2005
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really liked it
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 18, 2016
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Feb 24, 2016
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Feb 17, 2016
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Hardcover
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4.00
| 31,360
| 1974
| Oct 2000
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liked it
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Original rating five stars, because when I first rated the book I thought the series was actually going somewhere. This turned out not to be the case.
Original rating five stars, because when I first rated the book I thought the series was actually going somewhere. This turned out not to be the case. This installment is pretty good, for this series, but it still leads to a dead end. Cooper brings the whole gang together in this, volume three of The Dark is Rising. Simon, Jane and Barney return to Cornwall for a holiday, and Merriman brings Will along. Logically, the kids would bicker and eventually bond, and everybody would go on an adventure. But because this is Cooper and ordinary humans are worthless, Merriman and Will have Important Old One Business to attend to, in which the Drews become entangled by accident. The Dark is still Rising at its painfully slow rate, and there's a creepy painter in town who acts strange around the kids and brainwashes Barney when he gets too close. We know this man is evil before he does anything suspicious though, because he has black hair. Merriman actually points this out at one point. I would think most people on Planet Earth have black or dark brown hair, and I doubt that they are all agents of The Dark. This is actually a kind of racist implication. Progressive critics have raked Lewis and Tolkien over the coals for less. But Cooper gets off scot-free. Odd. Also, the women of the town are building something called a Greenwitch - a humanoid figure built of leaves that gets constructed away from the eyes of men and thrown into the ocean. This ritual is so old that no one really knows what it means. Jane watches the making of the Greenwitch and is intuitively aware that the thing is alive. In an experience she assumes is a dream, she reaches out to the creature with compassion. Her compassion is misguided and causes all kinds of trouble, but the fact that she pitied this creature makes her far more of a hero than the robotic, pompous Will. Actually, Jane is the strongest character in the whole undercooked ensemble and probably should be the protagonist throughout. The rest of the plot is vague to me, and I'm starting to think the problem is with the series itself and not with my memory. At one point, Jane has a vision of the past and a burning ship pulling into the harbor. She sees Merriman and Will being all protective and powerful and Old One-y on the shore and wishes she could join them, but is prevented either by shyness or magic. This was a well-written scene, though I can't remember what the point of it was. Also, Barney got kidnapped. Again. While I agree with a lot of other readers that post-Twilight YA is far too focused on romance, this book and series could have been greatly improved with a bit of the stuff. Will and Jane are about the same age, reasonably attractive, unattached, and part of the tiny group that knows the world is in danger of ending. Cooper drops a crumb here and there, but these two are teenagers. They are going to think about each other a lot. They are going to seek each other out. They are going to have a crush on each other. The fact that almost nothing happens with them is just further proof that Will could be replaced with a cardboard box without affecting the plot. In this book, The Dark is Rising comes its closest to actually being a good series and living up to its hype. Unfortunately, it does not get better from here, but steadily worse. ...more |
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1
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Feb 11, 2016
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Feb 16, 2016
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Feb 11, 2016
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Paperback
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0399105972
| 9780399105975
| 0399105972
| 4.07
| 114,955
| 1958
| Aug 25, 1958
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it was amazing
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T.H. White’s Arthurian opus, The Once and Future King, is probably as influential on the modern fantasy genre as The Lord of the Rings and The Chronic
T.H. White’s Arthurian opus, The Once and Future King, is probably as influential on the modern fantasy genre as The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia, yet has been overshadowed in the mainstream by its two major adaptations: Disney’s animated feature The Sword in the Stone (1963), which is based almost exclusively on the first quarter of the book, and the Broadway musical Camelot (stage debut 1960, film 1967) which is based on the last half. To adapt White’s whole book, and do it justice, is probably impossible. Even reviewing it accurately is an intimidating prospect. I will try my best. White has adapted Sir Thomas Malory’s Morte de Arthur for modern audiences in this tome, divided into four books: The Sword in the Stone, which chronicles Arthur’s childhood in Ector’s castle and his tutelage by Merlyn The Queen of Air and Darkness, which follows the war between the newly-crowned Arthur and King Lot of Orkney from the perspective of Lot’s four young sons: Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth. The titular character is their mother, Morgause, who is terrifying. Cassandra Clare, true to form, has “borrowed” this title for one of her own books. The Ill-Made Knight, which centers on Lancelot’s adventures, struggles, and family problems The Candle in the Wind, wherein Mordred comes to power , and everything Arthur worked so hard to build collapses on him. The tone of the first book is blithe and frequently, brazenly crosses from mere Monty Python-like silliness to outright self-parody. Merlyn, born at the wrong end of time and constantly blurting out anachronisms, is mostly a figure of great fun, while his owl Archimedes, Sir Ector, and the haplessly questing King Pellinore are wholly so. When I was younger, I remember watching The Sword in the Stone with a friend and being appalled by the irreverent treatment of Merlyn, especially the scene at the end where he shows up in the royal hall wearing a Hawaiian t-shirt and sunglasses. Little did I know that the book itself is almost as flippant—I think he wore a top hat in this version. Yet even at this early point we get subtle hints of the darkness to come. The shards of social commentary are intriguing, such as White noting that the great predatory fish in the moat, who is the first to tell Wart (the child Arthur) that “Might makes Right,” looks like Uncle Sam. Also, Robin Hood—Robin Wood in this version, and don’t you forget it—is camped out in the same forest as Ector’s castle, and he’s as merry and fun as you could ask for. As the book progresses, both the comedy and the blatant anachronisms recede, although they don’t disappear entirely until the end. The first quarter ends with the coronation of the boy Arthur, noting that Archimedes sent a great-grandson to “perch upon the King’s throne and make messes behind it” or something to that effect. We then launch right into the early bloodlust of the Orkney brothers, and their sickeningly creepy relationship with their sickeningly creepy mom, but even this plot thread tangles for a while with the romantic travails of the senile Pellinore and a well-meaning trick by Sirs Palomides and Grunmore going horribly awry. By the time that Morgause has worked her grisly magic on Arthur and become pregnant with the child of that incest, though, we are fairly settled in the darkness, with Lancelot, who even as a child is wracked with self-loathing and impossible expectations of himself. White’s insistence that Lance was hideously ugly is a curious departure from every other portrayal of the character, although the female characters sure don’t react to him as if he were. Perhaps Lance’s inverted hatred is so strong it effects even the narrator, or perhaps the author (whose life seems to have been sad and lonely) rendered the “ill-made knight” as a skewed self-portrait. The Grail-Quest here is undertaken as a morale-boosting exercise to Gramarye (the name of Arthur’s kingdom; apparently Camelot is only the capital city) and is mostly told through flashbacks by the knights who came home. Galahad is portrayed as an arrogance priss with no concept of teamwork who gets on everyone’s nerves. I can see that. The quest itself makes about as much sense here as it does in any other version, that is to say none. Arthur’s reign is usually understood as fairly short, but White again diverges from popular conception and portrays the King as a broken old man at the end, who has lived long enough to become the villain (in a fashion) and see the same eyes in different people and all that. Lance and Gwen are not much younger. Yet Gareth, only a few years younger than Lancelot, is cut down in the bloom of his youth, and Mordred is portrayed as even younger. Meanwhile Ector, Pellinore, and Lance’s Uncle Dap live to positively biblical ages. Trying to figure it all out was starting to give me a headache, so I can only imagine how White felt writing it. In White’s version, the story takes place not in fifth-century, post-Roman Britain, but in a parallel twelfth century. Here Robin and his merry men exist independent of Richard and John—in fact, the real kings and queens are considered legends here. But all the suspension of disbelief is well worth it. White’s character development for Arthur and Lance is spectacular, while Merlyn will cheer your soul, Morgause will freeze your blood, Guinevere will earn your loathing and Elaine, your pity. Content Advisory Violence: There are spurts of it, and where it occurs, it’s dreadful, some of it against animals. Morgause boils a cat alive as part of her evil magic. Later she wraps Arthur in a ribbon of human skin in order to bespell him. The young Orkney boys slaughter a helpless unicorn and messily butcher it. The man who later becomes Sir Bedivere beheads his wife for adultery. Agravaine slays his mother for the worst possible reason. Lancelot splits a guy’s head in half, and later, in berserker mode, strikes down his friend Gareth. Sex: No racy scenes are described, but we know that a drunk Lancelot gets deflowered by Elaine, mistaking her in his altered state for Guinevere. The young Arthur falls asleep having a vague dream about a beautiful, hypothetical wife, and awakens to find Morgause climbing out of his bed with her gruesome ribbon while her four young sons look on. Lance and Gwen have secret liaisons for twenty-four years, none of which are ever shown. Even in her old age, Morgause maintained the appearance of a young woman through her witchcraft, and had successfully seduced Pellinore’s son Lamorak when they were ambushed and murdered by Agravaine, who is all but directly stated to have incestuous feelings for his mother. Mordred is hinted at sharing those feelings, and he also has a creepy preoccupation with Guinevere—his attempt to force her to marry him brings about the final battle. Language: Lancelot accuses the late Tristan of boorish behavior including racism: “He was always riding on poor Palomides for being a n****r.” That’s it for the whole book. Substance Abuse: Ector’s hunting guests get hammered. Lancelot gets hammered on one occasion. Gawaine is either hammered, angry, or hammered and angry, which isn’t a Scottish stereotype at all *clears throat aggressively*. Disney did a surprisingly faithful job of adapting the first quarter of the book, although I am very relieved that they didn’t attempt the others at the time. The musical Camelot is definitely prettier and simpler than the last half, but it catches all the important themes, and preserves the poignant ending with little Tom of Warwick (who grows up to be Malory). This weighty novel will appeal to a wide range of people and I heartily recommend it to anyone who can handle its gory flashes and its sorrow. ...more |
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1
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Feb 22, 2016
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Jan 13, 2018
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Feb 08, 2016
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Hardcover
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0062059939
| 9780062059932
| B00BG7DY04
| 4.08
| 1,654,779
| Apr 24, 2012
| Apr 24, 2012
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liked it
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Credit to my friend Nicki Chapelway for giving me permission to use her nickname for Aspen, Snake Tooth, because it’s just perfect.
The Hunger G Credit to my friend Nicki Chapelway for giving me permission to use her nickname for Aspen, Snake Tooth, because it’s just perfect. The Hunger Games meets The Princess Diaries in Kiera Cass’ Selection. Our story picks up several hundred years after the collapse of the United States—an event briefly discussed in this book that involved Russia, China, and lots of money that couldn’t be paid back. I remember that some reviewers made fun of this, but as far as end-of-America scenarios go, it’s pretty believable. After a few failed governments in the interim, a very rich man named Gregory Illéa very nicely stepped in to single-handedly fix the economy. He was also related by marriage to some royal family in (one assumes) Europe. Thus the new nation on American soil was named Illéa, and a monarchy descended from the man was established. Gregory sounds like a shady character to me, and the history lesson scene smacks of propaganda. I hope that this is explored at least somewhat in the following volumes, although it’s clear that Cass herself isn’t that invested in her own world-building. What is Cass invested in? Read on... There’s a caste system in Illéa: Ones are the royals and nobility, Twos are lower nobility, Threes are really rich folks, Fours actually work but are paid well, Fives are artists and poor but not starving, Sixes are servants, Sevens are lower servants, and Eights are untouchables. Our heroine, America Singer, is a Five. She wants to marry her secret boyfriend Aspen Leger, a Six, though Aspen (hereafter referred to as Snake Tooth) is a terrible human being. If I were America, I would be happy to escape him. America is sixteen years old and now eligible to be drafted in the Selection—a televised process by which the Prince of the realm chooses his bride. Like the Hunger Games, the contestants come from all over the country (which used to be the U.S. in both cases) and the whole proceedings are meant as a morale-boost to the nation. Unlike the Hunger Games, no one gets killed during a Selection, so it might actually work as a morale-boost. If this sounds like a dystopian take on Cinderella’s ball to you, you are absolutely right. America is selected for the Selection, much to her own displeasure. But her mother, who reminds me a bit of a more competent Mrs. Bennet, is thrilled, and Snake Tooth is happy about it too. Selected girls who don’t become princess are automatically Twos, and their families get taken care of for life. Snake Tooth is riding his girlfriend’s coattails in hopes of becoming rich. It has never occurred to him that the Prince, Maxon, might take a fancy to America himself. At first America bristles against her fellow competitors and their restricted lives at the palace. She vows to forget Snake Tooth after seeing him with another girl (unfortunately it doesn’t work), she misses her parents and younger siblings, and she worries about the mysterious rebels who lurk on the edges of the capital city and occasionally break onto the palace grounds. There’s two groups of these, one that kills and another that prefers to kidnap, and the royals have no idea what exactly either faction wants. But America finds a kindred soul in the other person there yearning for something a little deeper than this artificial palace existence—Prince Max himself. At first she vowed to hate him, but she’s not good at keeping promises to herself, and they quickly start falling for each other. Cliques and conspiracies, Snake Tooth-induced melodrama, and occasional bursts of rebel violence ensue. The book doesn’t end so much as grind to a clearly temporary halt. Dare I hope that the other volumes will actually answer some relevant questions in between all the love-triangulating? Content Advisory: Violence: Very little is shown or described. The rebels menace the palace dwellers and force them to hide in the basement. One of America’s palace-assigned maids tells her that a coworker was almost raped by a rebel who broke into the palace; the man was killed by a guard and the girl was trapped for several minutes underneath the corpse. Celeste tears at America’s dress out of spite, scratching her arm in the process. America mistakenly thinks Maxon is making a pass and knees him in the groin. Sex: There’s an unnecessarily steamy makeout scene between Aspen and America in Chapter Two, a briefer one in Chapter Three, and another one towards the end of the book. He likes to make her sing while he gives her hickeys. Snake Tooth, Erik the Opera Ghost just called and he said that even he thinks that’s weird. Max and America also kiss a few times, but those are chaste. The kingdom has a law on the books against non-marital sex and it’s surprisingly effective, so even the racy scenes don’t escalate. A palace official asks America to affirm that she’s a virgin before signing on, which humiliates her. Language: Nada. Substance Abuse: Nada. Anything Else: The young serving-woman who was almost raped is understandably traumatized, and has crippling panic attacks whenever the rebels attempt a coup. Conclusion A fluffy read, perfectly appropriate for girls 14 and up, that made me smile and roll my eyes in almost equal measure. Snake Tooth is insufferable. America is good-hearted but maddeningly impulsive and none too bright. Maxon is a treasure, and I want to continue for his sake more than anything else That, and it’s been so much fun making snarky status updates and chatting with you all about this one. Thank you, friends. Coming soon: The Elite . ...more |
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1
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Jan 2018
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Jan 04, 2018
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Jan 27, 2016
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Hardcover
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0684823829
| 9780684823829
| 0684823829
| 4.01
| 56,420
| 1943
| Jun 03, 1996
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it was amazing
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The second installment of the Space Trilogy is just as trippy, surreal and creative as the first. Dr. Elwin Ransom has returned from Malacandra/Mars an The second installment of the Space Trilogy is just as trippy, surreal and creative as the first. Dr. Elwin Ransom has returned from Malacandra/Mars and now gets shipped off to Perelandra/Venus. Unlike Malacandra, Perelandra is a much younger world than ours. As of now, only two people live there—equivalents of Adam and Eve. Ransom meets the woman, who is unnervingly innocent. The man has been delayed somewhere—like Delos in the Greek myths, the islands here (except one) float on the sea. They had green skin before that became a sci-fi cliché. Perhaps the Zoë Saldana character in Guardians of the Galaxy is of Perelandran descent. Ransom has a mission here, but he doesn’t know what it is until Dr. Weston, the greedy little imperialist pig who shipped him to Mars as a human sacrifice in Out of the Silent Planet , shows up. Weston is a more sinister figure than before, and Ransom soon figures out that he’s been possessed by a demon. Weston pushes the Eve analogue to break the sole rule Maleldil gave her and her husband (don’t settle on the one fixed island), bombarding her with information she doesn’t understand. Ransom appoints himself her protector. Lewis’ descriptions of the topography of this strange new planet are rich and colorful. It doesn’t sound remotely like the real surface of Venus, any more than Malacandra is an accurate representation on Mars, or the space travel in this series in any way resembles the journeys of real astronauts. This is science fantasy, not science fiction. We can give Lewis a little wiggle room here since he wrote these over twenty years before space travel became a reality. The best part of the novel is probably Weston/the Un-man, one of the most unsettling villains I’ve read. Lewis takes the risk of emphasizing the childish pettiness and myopia of demons, which makes the character more frightening rather than less. Weston was already an imperialist, a racist, and afflicted with debilitating hubris, so we can see how he’d be prey to such a spirit. I was also impressed that Lewis managed to get two adult female characters in this story, both of whom are good guys. Way to go, Jack *slow clap*. Granted, the Eve character is a bit infantilized—it would be hard to convey her innocence without doing this—however, we don’t see Adam until he’s learned about evil, so he comes across as much smarter and grown-up than her, but that might not necessarily be Lewis’ intention. Lewis was not a misogynist, but he clearly had issues with women. The female characters he wrote after meeting Joy Gresham are light-years ahead of the ones before. The Christian elements are named explicitly here, not implied as they were in the Chronicles of Narnia. If you’re a secular reader who liked Madeleine L’Engle, this should not bother you. You definitely need to have read Silent Planet to understand this one, and it leads right into That Hideous Strength . It would be interesting to write an essay exploring the impact of the Inklings on classic rock. The Tolkien elements in Led Zeppelin have been well-documented, but as usual, Lewis is either ignored or disparaged by those same critics, even though his influence on that generation of musicians is just as great. There seems to be a Space Trilogy vibe hanging over the tale of Ziggy Stardust. (It’s hard to dispute Lewis’ influence on Bowie when the latter’s final music video ends with him stepping into a wardrobe and leaving the door ajar). And the members of Queen loved this trilogy so much that Brian May and Roger Taylor would have named the band The Great Dance if Freddie hadn’t pushed them for something snappier. But the writers of the classic rock and sci-fi magazines are too busy exaggerating the influence of Alastair Crowley to mention any of this. I’m sure that’s got nothing to do with anti-Christian sentiment. /sarc/ Onward to That Hideous Strength. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Jan 27, 2016
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Feb 10, 2017
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Jan 26, 2016
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Paperback
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1452114234
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| 1452114234
| 3.77
| 20,272
| Sep 19, 2013
| May 06, 2014
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None
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Notes are private!
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0
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not set
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not set
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Jan 26, 2016
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Hardcover
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3.82
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not set
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Aug 14, 2018
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4.12
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really liked it
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Aug 25, 2018
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Jul 29, 2018
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4.05
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really liked it
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Jun 13, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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3.96
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liked it
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Jun 13, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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4.03
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it was ok
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Jun 13, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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4.14
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really liked it
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May 16, 2018
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May 10, 2018
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3.87
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it was ok
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Apr 19, 2018
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Apr 18, 2018
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3.98
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liked it
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May 08, 2018
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Jan 22, 2018
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3.94
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liked it
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Feb 02, 2018
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Jan 04, 2018
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3.94
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it was amazing
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May 24, 2018
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Dec 20, 2017
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3.48
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not set
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Dec 19, 2017
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4.18
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really liked it
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Jan 24, 2018
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Dec 19, 2017
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3.98
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it was amazing
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Jan 07, 2018
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Jul 30, 2017
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3.64
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really liked it
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Jul 05, 2018
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Jun 15, 2017
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4.05
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really liked it
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Feb 24, 2016
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Feb 17, 2016
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4.00
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liked it
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Feb 16, 2016
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Feb 11, 2016
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4.07
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it was amazing
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Jan 13, 2018
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Feb 08, 2016
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4.08
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liked it
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Jan 04, 2018
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Jan 27, 2016
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4.01
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it was amazing
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Feb 10, 2017
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Jan 26, 2016
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3.77
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not set
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Jan 26, 2016
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