The Frozen River is based on the real diary entries left behind by Martha Ballard, a midwife who lived in Augusta, Maine. And as a confusing side noteThe Frozen River is based on the real diary entries left behind by Martha Ballard, a midwife who lived in Augusta, Maine. And as a confusing side note, the town is called Hallowell in the novel because that was what Augusta was called at the time the novel is set (1789-90). The town just south of Augusta ended up with the name Hallowell later on. To make it even more confusing, they both have the major intersection Winthrop and Water streets, which features heavily in the book.
The law—grossly titled An Act for the Punishment of Fornication, and for the Maintenance of Bastard Children—states that any woman who commits fornication shall be fined no less than six shillings for the first offense and no more than three pounds.
I found the story boring until maybe as far as 25% through, and then it became pretty interesting as I saw what Lawhon was doing with the diary entries. As a history and genealogy nerd, I was also interested in the way she depicted a real town of people who really existed, forming a fictional version of a micro-history. The turning point for me might have come at the mention of the Court of Common Pleas. And of course, although this is getting away from the point, Martha's diary is an example of a really cool, niche record source that a genealogist could use as a primary source, since she recorded the births she assisted with.
Anyway, the main plot is based on a real court case against a man named Joseph North, who was accused of rape along with another man who is found dead at the beginning of the book. Apparently, Martha was the only one who wrote down what was said.
Mrs. Hendricks glares at me. “Aren’t you leaving as well?”
“Absolutely not. Your daughter,” I say, pointing to where the girl lies, sprawled on her back, “will soon be deep in the throes of labor. But she has been rendered unconscious by that idiot. It will be a miracle if he hasn’t killed her and the child both.”
There was a lot I both liked and didn't like about this book. The worst for me was the ending, which was as fictional as it was ridiculous. That might have been fine in some other novel, where it wasn't juxtaposed against a fairly realistic portrayal of events. I also don't like that the most prominent trait of Martha's husband is being horny, like he can't have a conversation without letting you know he'd rather be screwing his wife.
I liked all the details about being a midwife at the time, including providing testimony, and I liked the way the author portrayed Martha's feelings about her family in general, especially her son Cyrus, who lost his ability to speak (in this case, the author hypothesized a disability due to the way he was recorded in records). The court scenes felt more realistic and less over the top compared to a lot of other fictional portrayals of historic courts (never mind the witch trials, we are smack dab in the Enlightenment).
It's a serviceable read, especially to anyone interested in local, micro, or women's histories, but the off ending and slow-to-hook story make this a decent read (as opposed to a great one)....more
This book was foundational for me as a kid. I was probably 14 when I read it. I've always had fond memories of it despite remembering little besides tThis book was foundational for me as a kid. I was probably 14 when I read it. I've always had fond memories of it despite remembering little besides that original cover with the dark background and rainbow fluorescent wings.
I felt encouraged to come back to this as I enjoyed The Spiderwick Chronicles well enough. Instead, this ends up as the perfect example of how middle-grade books sometimes make for better reads for adults than young-adult novels do. In Tithe's case, its dud of a romance does it in.
She thought of the faeries she had known when she was a child—impish, quick things—no mention of wars or magical arrows or enemies, certainly no deception. The man bleeding in the dirt beside her told her how wrong her perceptions of Faerie had been.
A girl named Kaye's mom has been the singer for rock bands throughout her life, letting her chaotic life spill into her daughter's. Due to the frequent moves, Kaye doesn't even go to school anymore. Through poorly explained circumstances, Kaye and her mother have to move back in with Kaye's grandma in New Jersey. Kaye had kept in touch with a girl named Janet, who lives in a trailer park with her brother, Corny (short for Cornelius). Kaye and Janet had apparently written to each other about teen-edge things like shoplifting from the mall.
Oddly, Kaye spends more time with her friend's gay brother (he's into "pretty" anime villains) than she does her friend. It's almost like Janet only exists as a semi-believable way to get us to Corny.
“They brought back the Tithe, the sacrifice of a beautiful and talented mortal. In the Seelie Court they may steal away a poet to join their company, but the Unseelie Court requires blood."
So, whoa. Kaye comes back a few years older and finds the fae are maybe not as nice as she remembered. And actually, they need to sacrifice mortal every seven years--probably her--to keep the unaligned "solitary fae" in line.
While this issue is cropping up, so much silliness is going on that I don't know how it fit in under 300 pages. Among them Roiben/Robin, the love interest, a faerie knight. We don't get much details about his backstory, probably because it would get awkward fast trying to explain what this ancient creature is doing with a 16 year old. At one point, he even gives Kaye unsolicited advice on concealing the faerie stuff from her family.
He had read stories like this—men and women waking on a hill that never opened for them again. Angrily, he wondered if Kaye was there still, dancing to distant flutes, forgetting that he’d ever tagged along.
Rereader beware: Tithe may be one such story you can never really go back to. While I think certain types of teens will still connect with this book, there are problems with the writing, plot, and characters. I wish I had a specific example, but there were multiple times, especially in the first half, when I was genuinely confused. I think that maybe the writing wasn't always convincing enough to explain characters' reactions or solutions to issues.
I feel like this could have better stood the test of its reader growing up if it had focused more on Kaye's exploration of the faerie world and the mysteries of her situation. Considering that other YA books like The Hunger Games can even depict a convincing love triangle, this is just a poor effort in comparison. It feels like the Folk had all been frozen in time until our protagonist shows up....more
Clocking in at less than 200 pages, Pastoralia is a rather short and breezy short story collection (because the more standard "short and sweet" would Clocking in at less than 200 pages, Pastoralia is a rather short and breezy short story collection (because the more standard "short and sweet" would sound like a depraved way to describe this collection).
I wonder if, other than Jesus, this has ever happened before.
I previously read CivilWarLand in Bad Decline, Saunders' first collection, several years ago. Although I enjoyed that one, the stories ran together in my mind because they were basically all set in dystopic amusement parks. I had avoided reading this one until now because I thought it would be more of the same. However, I was very wrong to do that, because these stories are laugh-out-loud funny and have distinct settings.
Honestly, all of these stories are more than worth reading. I was trying to figure out why my instinct was to rate this 4 stars instead of 5. I think it's because a certain dialogue style was used often enough to slightly grate, which was the practice of ending statements with question marks? It's like, I'm fine if one character does that, but I don't want one character per story doing that?
Because we’ve got it good. Every morning, a new goat, just killed, sits in our Big Slot. In our Little Slot, a book of matches. That’s better than some. Some are required to catch wild hares in snares. Some are required to wear pioneer garb while cutting the heads off chickens. But not us. I just have to haul the dead goat out of the Big Slot and skin it with a sharp flint. Janet just has to make the fire.
"Pastoralia," the title story, is also the longest. It's also the only one set in a theme park this time. The narrator and an older woman named Janet are stuck playing cavemen in a park that has reenactments of various historic human cultures, including Russian Peasant Farm. Janet is constantly breaking the rules by speaking English instead of oohing and ahhing, or smoking cigarettes, or listening to music, or any number of other violations. Too bad them, this park, too, is in Bad Decline.
But guess what, in real life people come up and crap in your oatmeal all the time—friends, co-workers, loved ones, even your kids, especially your kids!—and that’s exactly what you do. You say, ‘Thanks so much!’ You say, ‘Crap away!’ You say, and here my metaphor breaks down a bit, ‘Is there some way I can help you crap in my oatmeal?’
"Winky" is set at a self-help seminar. A man complains about his sister, Winky, whose religiosity and weirdness would admittedly not bother him so much if they didn't live together.
“Maybe one could work, one could baby-sit?” says Ma. “I don’t see why I should have to work so she can stay home with her baby,” says Min. “And I don’t see why I should have to work so she can stay home with her baby,” says Jade.
"Sea Oak" is unlike anything I've ever read. This is a major highlight of the collection and the one that had me reading funny quotes to my boyfriend. It starts with two cousins, Min and Jade, both poor, trashy new mothers, watching an equally trashy Maury Povich-style TV show called "How My Child Died Violently."
“Man, fuck this shit!” Min shouts. “Freak this crap you mean,” says Jade. “You want them growing up with shit-mouths like us? Crap-mouths I mean?”
If I recall correctly, this is also the only Saunders story from either collection I've read that veers into fantasy or supernatural elements. Yeah, this story truly has it all.
Well yes, he had ruined a few Dalmeyer things in his life, he had yes pounded a railroad spike in a good new volleyball, he had yes secretly scraped a ski with a nail, he had yes given the Dalmeyer dog Rudy a cut on its leg with a shovel, but that had been an accident.
"The End of FIRPO in the World" is the one I understand the least. Mainly because after reading it, I still don't know what FIRPO is. Either I missed something, or it might just be an undefined nickname for a boy who bikes through his neighborhood like a petty menace. But such children are rarely raised in a vacuum...
The barber looked at the pretty girl again. She smiled at him. His heart began to race. This never happened. They never smiled back. Well, she was young. Maybe she didn’t know better than to smile back at an older guy you didn’t want. Or maybe she wanted him.
"The Barber's Unhappiness" might be the first literary recognition of the phenomena of unattractive men putting themselves on pedestals. Is he not a small businessman!? This story goes deep into the barber's psyche and relentless imagination, which he's used to write off women before giving them a chance. Now he's middle aged, fattish, still lives with his mom, and also was born with no toes.
Maybe her father had a deformity, a glass eye or facial scar, maybe through long years of loving this kindly but deformed man she had come to almost need the man she loved to be somewhat deformed. Not that he liked the idea of her trotting after a bunch of deformed guys.
At a remedial driving school, the barber meets a beautiful woman. The problem? When she stands up, her head looks too small for her body because she's overweight.
What would that twitching nervous wage-slave Morse think if he were to dip his dim brow into the heady brew that was the “Archetypal Visions”? Morse, ha, Cummings thought, I’m glad I’m not Morse, a dullard in corporate pants trudging home to his threadbare brats in the gathering loam, born, like the rest of his ilk, with their feet of clay thrust down the maw of conventionality, content to cheerfully work lemminglike in moribund cubicles [...]
"The Falls" manages to feel like the oddball of the group. The viewpoint switches between two men, Morse and Cummings. Morse is a white-collar worker who feels he has missed his moment somewhere. One day, he is disturbed when a town loser and wannabe literati, Morse, snubs his polite greeting made in passing.
In this more than in any of the other stories, Saunders really plays with the language the characters use, making Cummings' inner monologue hilariously distinct....more
That was the focus, the sharp point at the center of Stell’s idea. A world where skilled EOs could help stop crimes instead of start them. And
That was the focus, the sharp point at the center of Stell’s idea. A world where skilled EOs could help stop crimes instead of start them. And where the rest could be contained, kept from committing more atrocities.
If the first book was like a comic, this goes even farther. Stell, the former law enforcement officer who dealt with Victor and Eli in the last book is now pursuing his own EO dream--but his looks more like Arkham Asylum stuffed with the X-Men (because I don't think most Batman villains have superpowers).
The story picks up right where it left off. Or kind of. This book does the same gimmick with labeling chapters "5 years ago," etc. as the first book. I was a little frustrated by Victor's story in this one. Not that it was bad, but you need some wins when the anti-hero of a book series has come back screwed up after being resurrected.
So a new character willing to throw around her power wasn't unwelcome.
How many men would she have to turn to dust before one took her seriously?
Meanwhile... A new EO, wife of a crime boss, has emerged from ashes. Marcella had been harboring ambitions all along, but only now does she have power. Her story will intersect with the others, along with June, the other major new character.
I'm not sure how we're supposed to read June. I think she's a creep despite the outer happy and innocent appearances. But her power is one of the more interesting and subtly dangerous powers.
Victor stared at the wall as if it were still a window. “He doesn’t know how patient you are,” he said. “Doesn’t know you like I do.” Eli cleaned the blood from his hand. “No,” he said softly. “No one ever has.”
Still meanwhile... Eli has gotten himself locked in Stell's version of Arkham Asylum after the crap he pulled in the last book.
The frenemy relationship between Victor and Eli continues in this book, and we even go back in time to explore it. That was a highlight for me, so I'm glad this book confirms it as a major part of series rather than just part of the plot of the first book. We also get backstory on Eli and how he ended up weird enough for Victor to like him.
I rated this a 3 and the first book a 4. I don't think there is a quality difference. And this follow up builds on everything from the first. I just personally liked some of the storylines in the first book more.
A lot of hanging threads point to a third book......more
“There will be deaths,” Chiron decided. “That much we know.” “Oh, goody!” Dionysus said. Everyone looked at him. He glanced up innocently from
“There will be deaths,” Chiron decided. “That much we know.” “Oh, goody!” Dionysus said. Everyone looked at him. He glanced up innocently from the pages of Wine Connoisseur magazine. “Ah, pinot noir is making a comeback. Don’t mind me.”
It's the third book in a series for kids. Let's not overcomplicate this.
New book, new prophecy. This time, 1-2 of the heroes taking up the quest will die, including one by their own parent (which doesn't narrow it down as much as you might think).
I couldn’t speak. I felt like a trespasser. And a complete failure. I couldn’t believe I’d come all this way and suffered so much only to lose Bianca to some eternal girls’ club.
Artemis and Apollo kinda-sorta feature in this one. Artemis is like a girl Peter Pan who recruits a pack of girls who will never grow up, never finish puberty, and, critically, never fraternize with boys.
It's another romp across the US, which can start to feel repetitive, like everything is just a one-off set piece for a plot point. However, this one actually brought up a certain locale in Las Vegas that featured in the first book, which I appreciated and hope will continue. We also got a little hint of something more for Grover, so Riordan is definitely weaving more threads in.
I think this book was mainly meant to introduce Thalia, who we just met at the end of the last book; the main plot is more or less where it was last time. Which is fine for that to move slowly, since these books are really more about the humor than the high drama. Kind of like with Voldemort--who really gave a shit about him anyway when there was a ghost in the bathroom and a magical forest?...more
Quel dommage. And it tried to hit so many of my favorite things, too. I mean, France, genealogy, and a historical topic that is seldomly represented iQuel dommage. And it tried to hit so many of my favorite things, too. I mean, France, genealogy, and a historical topic that is seldomly represented in English literature. What could wrong?
‘Ah, the blue of the Renaissance. You know there is lapis lazuli in this blue. It was so expensive they could only use it for important things like the Virgin’s robe.’
Here we are again with le bleu. But this is Tracy Chevalier's first novel, so it's not as good as her other novels. There are better books about this famous shade of blue, too, that do better at helping the reader appreciate it, such as Christopher Moore's Sacré Bleu.
An old man appeared on the opposite bank. —Don’t stop here, he said abruptly. Don’t stop at all until you reach Vienne. It is very bad here. And don’t go near St Etienne or Lyons. He disappeared into the woods.
This novel is told through dual timelines, one taking place in the late 1500s that is mostly in the aftermath of the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre, during which prominent Huguenots (French Protestants) were murdered by a Catholic mob when they went to Paris to attend the marriage of Henri de Navarre, who was later King Henri IV of France (he was killed too, as was Henri III before him).
In this timeline, we follow Isabelle, who lives in the Cévannes and...marries a boy who raped and bullied her. Most people around her are abusive religious extremists who had recently converted to Calvinism from Catholicism. Even though I'm not religious, I'm still biased as to which sect I like more, especially if a Jesuit enters the picture. Alas, there are no Jesuits here, just crazed ignorant people, and Isabelle is stuck there unable even to look upon an image of the Virgin Mary because that would distract from God and encourage polytheism.
In any case, things aren't looking good for Isabelle.
‘Because you are basing all your proof on coincidence and your guts rather than on concrete evidence. You are struck by a painting, by a certain blue, and because of that and the painter’s name is yours you decide he is an ancestor? No.
In the present timeline, we have Ella, who leaves a lot to be desired. She just moved to a town outside of Toulouse and decided to do her genealogy (read: have other people do her genealogy).
As someone who worked at a genealogy library for seven years, the idea of a burgeoning romance between a librarian and a helpless genealogist is both preposterous and revolting. But it doesn't stop there. Over the course of the novel, Ella amasses a small army of people whose primary focus seems to be helping her family research. She is even given a ~500-year-old book held by an archive, even though, after so many centuries, there could be hundreds of thousands of other descendants, making Ella far from uniquely suitable to be given this fragile archival material. These are all sentences I should never have had to write.
It so happens that Ella's ancestors, the Tournier family, i.e., the one that produced the rapist whom Isabelle married in the other timeline.
They all know my business, I thought. Even a Tournier across town knows my business.
Both Ella and Isabelle are gossiped about and criticized by the generalized towns they live in. Ella struggles to feel at home with the French, while Isabella is considered a guileless slut for having red hair and asking a traveling merchant for news. The story includes a vague supernatural element that connects the two women (as well as other female Tournier descendants).
Ultimately, there are too many problems that range from an annoying main character (Ella) to plot points that don't ring true (giving archival material to a random American). The present timeline half-reads like a helpless library patron's fantasy trip to France. The thread is even lost in the 1500s timeline, which failed to impact me because of how unbelievable the ending was. I think it might have even tried to imply something like reincarnated lovers as a little side thing. Yeah.
Overall, most readers should focus on Chevalier's other novels, particularly The Lady and the Unicorn, which is also partially set in France. ...more
Tales from Earthsea is a departure from the rest of the series, since it's a short story collection. The stories span temporally from much earlier in Tales from Earthsea is a departure from the rest of the series, since it's a short story collection. The stories span temporally from much earlier in Earthsea's history, such as the founding of the wizard school on Roke, to events that are happening during the previous book, Tehanu. The latter forms a bridge to the next Earthsea novel.
The main story that stuck with me without skimming my highlights was the first story, following a young lad with a few names, but I'll call him Otter. He specializes in "finding," which is less revered in Ged's time in the future. Some tyrant forces finders like Otter to search a mine for cinnabar, from which mercury is somehow derived.
Is it not a wonderful thing,” he went on, drawing Otter away and back down the spiral stair, “how from what is most base comes what is most noble? That is a great principle of the art! From the vile Red Mother is born the Allking. From the spittle of a dying slave is made the silver Seed of Power.”
His story eventually ties into the founding of the school of wizardry at Roke, which we learn originally accepted both men and women (the women were banned after not too long, of course).
I like this about the way Le Guin wrote the Earthsea books. While a lot of modern writers would have told us a story of a powerful woman instead, Le Guin is feminist by placing her fantasy characters in the world of every day sexism. The fact that she was ahead of her time as well as ours is also evident in her use of race--to my knowledge, no adaptation has depicted the people of Earthsea with their proper skin color (black and brown).
Had he been out walking on the path above the Overfell? No, that was years ago, years ago, in the sunlight.
Other stories tell us the origin of Medra's Gate and the doorkeeper who chooses whether or not to admit a student. In another, a young adult has to choose between his heart and sorcery. We also get one with Ogion, one of Ged's first teachers, during his youth.
Le Guin had a sort of anthropological style, and of the Earthsea books, it's most evident here. The stories feel like they came from a book of assorted myths and folklore.
And the Master Chanter said I did harm by being here.” “We all do harm by being,” said the Patterner.
I would have wanted another story or two. I especially think one relating to the Kargs would have rounded it out and built a little on the second book (and my personal favorite), The Tombs of Atuan....more
“I don’t even know what I am. I don’t know why I’m here. I was made by some mystery creature and I don’t have the slightest idea why, or what
“I don’t even know what I am. I don’t know why I’m here. I was made by some mystery creature and I don’t have the slightest idea why, or what he wants from me, or what I am supposed to be doing."
In this one, Christopher Moore satirizes vampires. Well, he tries, at least. It's probably hard to be funnier than something that usually ends up as an unintentional parody of itself.
Jody finds herself under a dumpster one night with a burned hand, heightened senses, and an immense amount of cash. Someone has made her a vampire. For some reason.
“Okay, I’m projecting. What am I thinking?” “I can tell by the look on your face.” “You might be wrong, what am I thinking.” “You’d like me to stop badgering you with these experiments.” “And?” “You want me to take our clothes to the Laundromat.”
At the same time, an aspiring writer (in theory) named Tommy Flood has just arrived in San Francisco. He needs a place to stay that doesn't involve five men named Wong who want to marry him, and, conveniently, Jody now needs someone who can run daytime errands. It's a match made in heaven.
“You’re not going to believe me. It’s a pretty fantastic story. There’s supernatural stuff involved.”
Listen, it's not a fantastic story. I've read a few other books from this author, and this was the weakest. Hence the two stars.
There aren't many moments that are all that funny. While that got better toward the end, as Moore was able to capitalize on his groundwork laid in the rest of the book, it doesn't match up to what I'd consider the average Moore novel. I don't think there's anything I would have quoted or tried to explain to my boyfriend if we hadn't been doing this one together (or maybe I just wouldn't want him thinking too much on all the stuff about women getting men to do things we don't want to do).
Moore did somehow manage to nail the end, though, and more so than I would have thought possible for a book that was just okay....more
The corn itself could have been waving hello, or it could have been breathing. Missouri itself a sleeping giant under their new home.
I had
The corn itself could have been waving hello, or it could have been breathing. Missouri itself a sleeping giant under their new home.
I had no idea this was set in my home state. I mean, why would I, when we're the most half-assed state in the Midwest when it comes to corn? I've never seen corn growing in Missoura in 35 years. Hills have eyes? Me IRL. Children of the corn? Utterly unrelatable.
So already I was shaking my head a whole lot.
Clown in a Cornfield is a decidedly YA slasher novel that is basically a twist on Stephen King's "Children of the Corn," which appeared in his first story collection, Night Shift. The clown in the title refers to a clown that was the brand mascot for a corn syrup company that was located in the town.
“What I personally think is that we are looking at a situation where what’s legal and what’s right are two separate things. And I’ve expressed this to some of you, but I think that there may soon come a time when the powers of law don’t go far enough to keep Kettle Springs the town we know and love.
This is one of the smartest-sounding quotes in the whole book, but it's actually dumb too. As the story sets itself up before things really get rolling, it came off as boring and eyeroll worthy. A glaring example comes from the end, an extremely naïve reflection on the supposed linearity and inevitability of "progress."
While this explores an inter-generational theme that will appeal to many readers, I also think it's the type of YA that would be best enjoyed by its core teen audience. On the other hand, it doesn't hold anything back when it comes to channeling its inner slasher, so fans of that will feel at home with both the stupidity and the gore.
I rated it a 2 ("it was okay") because I didn't enjoy it as much as the books I tend to rate 3. As for the two sequels, thinking of their existence right now just makes me shake my head some more....more
It could be a magic country like Narnia, and the only way you can get in is by swinging across on this enchanted rope.
There isn't a lot of
It could be a magic country like Narnia, and the only way you can get in is by swinging across on this enchanted rope.
There isn't a lot of substance I can say about this without spoiling the story. That's because the main plot point and purpose of the story doesn't happen until towards the end (it's a very short book).
It's not a fantasy novel, although it references some classics, like The Chronicles of Narnia and The Chronicles of Prydain (which I weirdly read just before this and managed to catch the reference). No, not fantasy, but two kids playing outdoors and carving out a realm for themselves there. The book will usually not get more into it than something like "they played at Terabithia every day that week."
Leslie was one of those people who sat quietly at her desk, never whispering or daydreaming or chewing gum, doing beautiful schoolwork, and yet her brain was so full of mischief that if the teacher could have once seen through that mask of perfection, she would have thrown her out in horror.
A new kid, Leslie, moves into Jess's neighborhood. He doesn't like her at first because she's a tomboy who beats him at running, but they quickly warm up to each other and establish Terabithia. Leslie is metaphorically the bridge of this relationship, because she brings Jess into a world of fantasy and imagination he hadn't known before.
He hardly slept the rest of the night, listening to the horrid rain and knowing that no matter how high the creek came, Leslie would still want to cross it.
Most of the book is fairly mundane and boring (as an adult reader). There are also some weird aspects, like a crush Jess has on his music teacher. These interactions made me really uncomfortable because it was inappropriate but goes unaddressed. On the other hand? Cheers to a tiny spot of 1970s atheism, which I assume is what has gotten this book banned (as opposed to the weird teacher)....more
“Tais-toi. We’re soldiers in skirts, not ladies, and we need a damned smoke.”
I had been overlooking this author as there have been a lot o
“Tais-toi. We’re soldiers in skirts, not ladies, and we need a damned smoke.”
I had been overlooking this author as there have been a lot of similar-seeming WWI and WWII novels in recent years. I decided to try this author based on a recommendation, and I ended up really liking this one!
It actually switches between a WWI and a post-WWII narrative. The WWI section is based on a British spy ring led by a woman, Louise de Bettignies, which operated in German-occupied France. In these chapters, we follow Eve, who was sought after due to her ability to speak English, French, and German.
“‘I’d sooner while alive invite the crows to drain the blood from my filthy carcass,’” Eve said, and added at my blink, “It’s a quote, you ignorant Yank. Baudelaire. A poem called ‘Le M-Mort Joyeux.’”
Back in the future, a wealthy young American woman named Charlie has reached a crossroads. She has lost her brother and French cousin, Rose, to WWII, and she hopes to relocate the latter. Her research has led her to an older Eve, a woman like none she's ever met. Despite her multi-lingual abilities, Eve has a stutter and...horribly mangled hands, the joints of which appear to have been "systematically broken."
The two (plus one hot Scottish war vet) eventually embark on a journey destined to rouse up answers about both wars.
Eve, standing in her dark dress in her appointed corner, was reminded of the legend of vampires. In Lille, the French went to bed at sundown because even if there were no curfew, there was little paraffin or coal to keep a room lit. Only the Germans came out at night, like the undead, to celebrate their undisputed rule.
Most of the action is set in 1915 Lille, a dreary place at that time. The local French populace is starving while the Germans and traitorous war profiteers live lavishly. One of these profiteers has a restaurant with an open waitress position that the Alice Network would like to fill with one of their own spies.
She was like the chorus in a Shakespeare play: the curtain went up on a set so strange and horrific the audience could not comprehend it, at least not until she walked out and in a calm, dead voice explained the scene. What had happened. When it happened. How it happened. Not why. She did not know why.
Quinn does a great job with the cultural details that help draw you into these periods. She had me looking up Dior's "New Look" as well as an entire village in France that has been left in stasis as a war memorial, in honor of the hundreds of civilians who were murdered there. Lots of Édith Piaf as well.
I also appreciate her characters. In a lot of popular historical fiction, especially those that try to tell women's stories, the characters can often feel anachronistic and amount to a character spouting off modern ideals and clashing with a villain with no grey area. And though The Alice Network is dominated by strong women, they felt believable to me. Maybe it's because they didn't come knowing all the answers but instead learn them and earn them along the way....more
“Very well,” said Coll, “if that is all that troubles you, I shall make you something. From this moment, you are Taran, Assistant Pig-Keeper."
“Very well,” said Coll, “if that is all that troubles you, I shall make you something. From this moment, you are Taran, Assistant Pig-Keeper."
Like many people, I knew this story first from the Disney film (titled The Black Cauldron, which is actually the name of the second book in the series).
It follows Taran, a boy...being raised by two old men (I think he was orphaned?). They give him lessons, and he takes care of a pig named Hen Wen. But, it turns out, Hen Wen isn't just any pig. She's an oracular pig. Yes, that's oracular as in oracle. Because of this, some bad dude who likes to wear another person's skull on his face raises an army of dead to retrieve the pig, all for...reasons.
Taran is joined by multiple people/beings along the way. They typically have a specific quirk, like a dwarf who visibly strains to go invisible like the other dwarfs, a creepy-sounded man-hound hybrid named Gurgi (which they opted to make small and cute in the cartoon), and a bard whose harp strings break dramatically when he lies.
"I’m not officially a bard.” “I didn’t know there were unofficial bards,” Eilonwy remarked. “Oh, yes indeed,” said Fflewddur. “At least in my case. I’m also a king.” “A king?” Taran said. “Sire …” He dropped to one knee.
The author drew from Wales and Welsh mythology. In theory I like that, but in practice, my simple memory of the Mabinogion was clearly not enough to fully appreciate it.
I swear I'm not just being mean when I rate this 2 stars ("it was okay"). It's actually hopeful, because I see a lot of reviews that say this is the worst of the series, and I hadn't otherwise planned to continue. So, I'll save the 3 for those if they really are better.
I think my main issue is that I never felt invested, either because it felt too simplistic, or because of the lack of reasons for what was going on. Maybe it's also because it's a travel-adventure narrative, which tend to be episodic (and which I tend not to like).
I was the kind of child who’d always looked for fairies dancing on the grass. I wanted to believe in witches, wizards, ogres, giants, and ench
I was the kind of child who’d always looked for fairies dancing on the grass. I wanted to believe in witches, wizards, ogres, giants, and enchanted spells. I didn’t want all of the magic taken out of the world by scientific explanation. I didn’t know at that time that I had come to live in what was virtually a strong and dark castle, ruled over by a witch and an ogre.
A lot of people who read this when they were young seem desperate to make sure they're seen pronouncing it trash. And to be fair, maybe the rest of the series is, and it sure looks like all the works written by the author's ghost writer are.
But dare I say that I thought this was pretty good? If not from a technical perspective, then at least for the originality of the plot and the exploration of one of the darkest types of villain. It's also not smut; there is no smut in this book.
I probably wouldn't have read it any time soon, but my boyfriend randomly started watching the 80s film; he had never heard of it, and I knew its theme and had been content to leave it to the likes of my mom and other Gen-Xers. I only rarely stop to watch something my boyfriend is watching, but this grabbed me. So, I came into the book knowing what happens (a flagrant breaking of one of my few personal laws).
Secrets? And he said I was given to exaggerations! What was the matter with him? Didn’t he know that we were the secrets?
The four Dollanger kids are grieving the unexpected death of their father while their mother tries to figure out how to survive. Living with their extremely wealthy maternal grandparents seems to make the most sense...but their mother tells them they have to hide in the attic so their grandfather doesn't find out about them--just for a day or two until she can get back on his good side.
Had we suffered? Had we only missed her? Who was she, anyway? Idiot thoughts while I stared at her and listened to how difficult four hidden children made the lives of others.
While I liked this overall, I think a couple of things will stand out to most readers.
The dialogue, especially from the two teens, reads as stilted. It would be interesting to see if this carries over to all of Andrews' work, or if it was only done in this novel to represent the 50s as well as the perfection of these doll-like children. Almost everyone speaks the same way ("Really, Cathy...") until suddenly near the end a servant speaks in a brogue.
Some aspects of the plot are also unbelievable. For example, what kind of teenage boy would put up with all of this? Who would get up before dawn every day to prepare meals for people they hate, and somehow do that in secret?
But none of these complaints overshadow this modern gothic fairy tale. Because a fairy tale, of all things, isn't at its best when too literally overanalyzed with plot holes and reality.
As for the rest of the series, I'm more interested in the prequel about the grandma than the sequels that follow these kids. ...more
“Did I not drive them from this land once before?” “Ah, you are beginning to remember, Father. You did indeed.” “And they have returned?” “These
“Did I not drive them from this land once before?” “Ah, you are beginning to remember, Father. You did indeed.” “And they have returned?” “These are new people. A different kind of people. They come from far away and know not to be afraid yet."
Slewfoot is a mixed bag in several different ways. What had the biggest impact on me, though, is that the story got worse and more boring as it went on. Already, the plot is entirely predictable, even if the message on the memorial plaque at the beginning didn't tell you the tl;dr.
I did like the first half, though, so it's a disappointment it only led to a generic witch trial and massacre.
“That is not what you want, that is what you need. You are not made out of needs, you are made out of your dreams and desires. What is it you wish and dream of?”
The main character is Abitha, a Londoner who had the misfortune of being sent to a Puritan village in Connecticut to marry. She has the brilliant idea to sell natural remedies and love potions in this environment.
We also get "Father," some type of primeval forest god that has just reawakened near Abitha's secluded farmstead. His memories didn't come back with him, though, and his self-rediscovery is both humorous and mysterious.
“You will confess!” he demanded, spittle flying from his lips.
Let's be real, this is no Crucible. It lacks the nuance of historical fiction, and it also lacks the horror of a horror novel. The black-and-white nature of the villains reaches cartoonish levels, but since actual witch trials were so ridiculous, it's hard to be sure if that is a fault of the book or just...reality. Either way, that's not a great breeding ground for complexity.
And there was something about these people that horrified Abitha even worse than those whose faces were lined with cruelty. As at least cruelty was a thing that could be pointed out, confronted. But this belief, this absolute conviction that this evil they were doing was good, was God’s work—how, she wondered, how could such a dark conviction ever be overcome?
I think the biggest problem for me with this book is that the whole point of witch trials is that they were unfounded as no one had ever made any real covenant with the devil, and there were no real witches. The message gets mixed up when you write a story that gives justification to the Puritans. As a reader, it feels like it breaks some kind of etiquette rule to put me in a position in which I'm reading about a witch trial and sometimes thinking, "Well, they're more or less right." I wish the book had gone in a different direction in the second half to either avoid or mitigate this.
This is my first book by Brom, but I'm getting the sense that he gets certain scenes in his mind and builds a book towards that. Which makes sense, because he's an artist. In this case, at least, these (seeming) goal scenes were not as compelling to read as the story he wrote to lead to them....more
I’d sit in bed after Mommy and Daddo tucked me in and I’d look to the closet doors and they would open, just a little bit. I’d see her eyes in
I’d sit in bed after Mommy and Daddo tucked me in and I’d look to the closet doors and they would open, just a little bit. I’d see her eyes in there like she was smiling. Sometimes I thought I saw her teeth, too, but when car headlights came through the window, I’d see she wasn’t smiling.
This book is told from the perspective of Bela, a child who is being visited by a ghost or demon called Other Mommy. I see the description says she is supposed to be 8, but I read it as a much younger child. I think of something closer to a 4 year old saying "Mommy and Daddo." I have a niece this age, so I feel fairly certain that 8 year olds are more sophisticated than this. I've read a few books lately that have kids with adult voices, so I guess I prefer that this errs on the young side, because it at least has a distinct child's voice.
Are we friends? I don’t think so. I don’t think friends are this scared of each other.
At first Bela thought Other Mommy was a friend, probably because her real mom is kind of shit too. But at the beginning of the book, it has recently started asking her if she would let it into her heart. This makes even Bela uncomfortable, but it's in a way she doesn't understand and that conflicts with the lessons on kindness that her Daddo teaches her.
Then Daddo said: Hey, I’m Other Daddo!
I'm left feeling mixed. I could complain about the monologues the adults give to Bela when they think she's sleeping, but I think those have an explanation. I could complain about the contrived meeting on the psychic character right before she's needed.
It's probably my own fault for barely looking into what I read, but I had been expecting and wanting incidents around the house. Not incidents around the state of Michigan. I was groaning every time someone suggested going somewhere else.
On the other hand, the descriptions of Other Mommy are creepy, and I enjoyed the character voice and child-style writing (even if I didn't agree on what age the kid sounded like). I like the ambiguity it leaves us with, to wonder which conversations were real and what was right....more
Is not late May an odd time for a wedding, with so much here that has to be done, and with Spring plowing and planting? Joy and sorrow, says o
Is not late May an odd time for a wedding, with so much here that has to be done, and with Spring plowing and planting? Joy and sorrow, says our father, each makes its own season.
I'm going back and forth between two and three stars for this. The reason is because this book isn't as good from a story perspective as any of the Dear America books I've read (to which A Gathering of Days is a clear precursor). It reads more like a diary than Dear America, with some entries just being little snippets or quotes.
Honestly, this book is like jamming together the plots of multiple different children's historical fiction novels. You've got the white kids helping a runaway slave. You have the dead friend and deader mom. Teacher drama, winter stuff, the making of maple syrup. It might be realistic, but it doesn't make for much of a story arch.
The berries grow so close to the briars one can not have one without the other.
It follows Catherine, a teenaged girl who lives in Meredith, New Hampshire. Her diary is wrapped inside an extra layer, which is a note from Catherine to her own granddaughter, to whom she is giving her diary decades later.
Interestingly, the author had a specific plot of land in mind when she wrote this, but I'm not sure what her connection to it was; Wikipedia says she lived in Michigan....more
“Your mind is free now,” he’d said to me. “There’s nothing binding it. It’s free, absolutely free.”
So we're back with Richard Matheson and
“Your mind is free now,” he’d said to me. “There’s nothing binding it. It’s free, absolutely free.”
So we're back with Richard Matheson and some of the same things I didn't like about The Shrinking Man.
We start with a strong premise: a man's hidden psychic potential is released after his brother-in-law puts him under hypnosis during a party. He begins to know things--and see things--such as a woman in his house. This leads us to a unique haunted(?) house story.
“What’s the matter,” I said, “do you have something to hide? Maybe a—”
“Everyone has something to hide!” she burst out.
I think there are two major things that kept me from enjoying much of this.
1. Matheson seems to have had a tendency to overwrite about boring things. I say this as a former history major who thinks the stock market and genealogy are interesting.
2. It feels dated in a "man writing women" type of way. This ties into the first point, because being so traditional and stereotyped makes the plot boring, and yet most of the book focuses on female characters. The women revolve entirely around men and babies (men first, babies second). They didn't feel like people. Matheson even squeezes a preteen girl (team baby) into that tiny space. The "outburst" above from the main character's wife saying that everyone has something to hide was the only interesting thing from a woman in this whole book.
“Think of it this way,” he said. “You—and the great majority of undeveloped mediums—are traversing a dark tunnel with a flashlight that goes on occasionally—completely beyond your control. You catch fleeting glimpses of what’s around you, never knowing what you’re going to see, never knowing when you’re going to see it.”
Maybe this book would have seemed better if I hadn't seen the movie. Maybe it would have seemed better in a month other than October. For me, it was just okay....more