Imprudence » Book Review

Egads! Imprudence is the first physical book I have ever received from a publisher. Here's me gushing on Instagram and barely holding myself together.



My sister will attest to the fact that I was practically hyperventilating when I saw the package in our mail. I'M TOO POOR TO ORDER ANY BOOKS FROM AMAZON. When I saw that it was Imprudence, I almost fainted. But I didn't!

BECAUSE HOW ELSE WOULD I BE ABLE TO READ THIS BOOK.

Where They Are Now

After the events of Prudence (see review HERE), Rue makes her way back home where she receives a firm admonishment from Queen Victoria for her part in creating a separate treaty with the Varanas and the Shadow council. The Crown's legal protection has also been revoked from Rue as punishment.

That's not the only thing that's going wrong in London. I can't go into details, but I almost wept. One of the things I love about the way Gail Carriger writes her books, is that she keeps her focus on the world at large. Characters that we have loved through many series will continue to sneak in and out of the book, and we get to see how they have changed and evolved throughout the years.

In this installment, we watch Rue grow into an adult. Not just in terms of age, as she is officially 21 years old and has reached her majority, but also in maturity. She is finally confronted with some painful truths about her parents (all 3 of them) and starting to understand them as adults, not just as her guardians.

Rue & Crew

As always, I adore Rue and her crew members. Prim and Rue's friendship is as solid as ever, Spoo remains our delightful deckling (can't wait to see how she grows up), Percy our grumpy navigator, Quesnel our charming Frenchman, Aggie our curmudgeon, gorgeous Sekhmet, and Footnote! Every ship needs a cat after all. Sometimes even two.

My brief complaint about the book is that I never really grew to love Quesnel as I did Percy or Prim or Spoo. I really tried, especially since I knew that the romantic pairing would be between Rue and Quesnel. Their romance is definitely quite different than the traditional Victorian tale, and I adored the reactions of her parents. I must not have been won over by Quesnel. However, that didn't detract too much from my enjoyment of the story. The romance is definitely not the focus, and Rue handles it in a very mature manner.

Percy was SUCH an idiot in this book. I could have smacked him around for all the stupid decisions he made. I understood why he made those choices, but a smack was coming his way nonetheless. I love that Carriger can make me feel such strong emotions for her characters. I am also DYING to know what happens in Prim's future. For everyone who has read the book already, DON'T YOU SHIP IT?! Because I am the captain of that ship.

Colonialism

I found this to be a strong installment to The Custard Protocol series. Some of the issues I had in her previous book regarding colonialism was put to rest. As Rue travels and interacts with people that aren't British, we see her understanding of the world and the Empire's activities transform.

I almost want to go back and omit that section of my review in Prudence. But looking back with all the information that I have from Imprudence, it was clearly a process of growth for Rue. As a metanatural, she doesn't have normal citizenship rights and that has also impacted her view of supernaturals and their value to the Crown. She definitely isn't a mindless drone of the Empire. I think that was the greatest gift Queen Victoria could unknowingly give Rue as she removed the legal protection of the Crown.

Final Thoughts

I am DYING for a sequel. I originally assumed this to be a duology since no other books have been announced. Imprudence doesn't end on a cliffhanger by any means, but a few things have been set in motion and I'd love to see them come to fruition. Not to mention, I NEED TO KNOW HOW MY SHIP WILL SAIL.

The saddest moment for me in the whole book was when [spoiler]Rue was getting ready to leave London, and Conall had to give up being Alpha. We all knew this was coming, but I felt devastated for Conall as he lost his pack. When Rue showed her belly to Biffy in wolf form, and he rejected her, I felt her pain at losing her family. I'm just not ready (as a reader) to let the pack go either.[/spoiler]

According to Carriger, she hopes to publish a sequel in 2018. Only 2 years away!



I'm not crying!! There's just something in my eye...

---

I'm excited to announce that I will be seeing Gail Carriger in person in Chicago next week! My sister and I will be going together and I am beyond thrilled to meet my favorite author of 2016.

Prudence » Book Review

Prudence was everything my heart desired. I had been holding off on reading this series because I worried that it wouldn't be as good as The Parasol Protectorate and wouldn't evoke the same sense of love and nostalgia. I needn't have worried.

For those who are unaware, all of Gail Carriger's works (with the exception of a few short stories) take place in this alternate steampunk history where werewolves and vampires have been integrated into British society. Timeline wise, the books start with The Finishing School, followed by The Parasol Protectorate, and then The Custard Protocol.

Please keep in mind that my following review will contain spoilers for The Parasol Protectorate (though I shall endeavor to keep them to a minimum).

Rue & Crew

My favorite aspect of Carriger's books have always been her trademark wit/humor and her characters. Rue is no exception. She isn't a carbon copy of her mother, Alexia, either. And her relationship with her best friend, Primrose (Ivy's daughter), isn't at all like the relationship Alexia had with Ivy in The Parasol Protectorate. This is a relationship between equals and based on a twenty-year devoted friendship. I adored them.

Ivy's twin brother, Percy, is also a part of the crew. He is an academic, and lured aboard to accept the post of Chief Navigator. He brings along Footnote, his cat, and an entire library (which my soul appreciated). And as Rue believes, every ship needs a cat. Hear hear!

Rounding out the crew, we have Quesnel Lefoux, who is the son of Genevieve. He is hired on as the Chief Engineer. He is a ridiculous flirt, and we see a spark of interest flying between Rue and Quesnel. I look forward to seeing how that will progress. I love the way Carriger has developed the romance between characters throughout all her novels, so I am sure this one will be no different.

"Rue gave a little mental sigh. No one would ever describe her as deadly attractive. She brightened a bit. Perhaps she could aspire to just deadly?"

Rue & Family

Rue is the biological daughter of Alexia and Conall Maccon, but she was 'officially' raised by our favorite vampire, Lord Akeldama. Lord Akeldama is one of my absolute favorite characters in this Victorian world. I giggle when I picture his sense of fashion, I chuckle when I read his dialogue with his daughter and other valued companions, and I admire his ability to hide his keen mind behind a sense of frivolity.

I love practical Alexia, who referred to her pregnancy within The Parasol Protectorate series as 'infant convenience'. The relationship between Alexia and Rue is just as complicated and fraught with tension as any regular mother/daughter relationship would be.

"I must say, like most daughters, I resent being accused of emulating my mother."

Rue in India

Rue is metanatural, sent on a mission to India by her adopted father Lord Akeldama to acquire a special kind of tea. I was delighted with this premise for two reasons. Firstly, because I adore Indian chai and I wanted to know what Rue would think of it, and secondly, because I was curious about how they would depict India

This quote very accurately sums up Rue's abilities and her relationship to supernatural creatures that are not part of her family:

"Rue raised her bare hands. Her best threat to any supernatural was her metanatural state. Few immortals could face the idea of being mortal, even for a short space of time. It was what made Rue's preternatural mother so universally despised. The idea that not only would he lose his form, but someone else would have access to it, was adding insult to injury. Where a soulless was merely the enemy, a soul-stealer was dishonorable, a defiler of the supernatural state. Rue was not just despised, she was vilified."

In India, we meet vampires (also known as Rakshasas), English soldiers, and some familiar werewolf friends. I was delighted with the intermingling of Indian folklore with the traditional tale of vampires and werewolves. However, as a born Indian, I do have an inherent dislike of British colonial rule that did come up after I concluded the novel. Particularly after Rue did this one thing...

[spoiler]The Varanas (the were-monkeys) and Rakshasas are at an all-out war. Within Hindu mythology, Rakshasas are demons while Varanas fight against them. The eternal enmity makes sense. However, because the vampires and werewolves can co-exist in Britain, Rue expects the same out of these two factions. But the Varanas refuse to be on the same treaty with the Rakshasas and hence, are at a stalemate. Rue talks them into allying with the Shadow Council, and since that is closely aligned with Queen Victoria, essentially means that they are on the same treaty after all. Rue gains the outcome she wants through a semblance of trickery without making a genuine effort to understand the culture. [/spoiler]

While I understood it within the context of the story, upon further reflection, it did aggravate me. Another situation of white people coming and telling another culture what to do, what is right, and what is wrong.

Fashion & Tea

As any fervent Carriger reader would know, fashion, food, and tea play a significant role in all her novels. Hence, there is an exquisite amount of detail paid to dresses, parasols and (my absolute favorite) hats. Tea is required at all times, and delicious goodies are frequently mentioned. I always need a delicious goodness while enjoying a Carriger book. I mention this because I'm aware that there are those out there that find these details frivolous and unentertaining.

I recommend Gail Carriger's books for all those out there who enjoy a healthy dose of whimsy and silliness with their Victorian steampunk.

The next novel Imprudence releases July 19th, 2016.

These Shallow Graves by Jennifer Donnelly » Book Review

I am in awe of how this book made me feel. Ellen believes that it doesn't compare to Donnelly's A Northern Light, so I'm very excited to pick that one up soon and see how These Shallow Graves will measure up against Donnelly's most critically-acclaimed work.

At first glance, I expected it to be a run-of-the-mill mystery with a throwaway romance. In fact, as I was reading, I had picked out a quote that I thought would impeccably sum up the cheesiness of the romance.

"He can only break my ribs, Jo, not my heart."

Nauseating... am I right??

But I was forced to eat my words. As I accompanied Jo on her various jaunts through the city and witnessed her life through her eyes, I realized how similar she and I are (or were). I mentioned briefly in my introduction post about living in a rural part of India during some of my teen years. I lived with my grandmother, mother, baby sister and our maid under strict lock-and-key. Young girls were not to be out and about unaccompanied, let alone be out past twilight. There were rules about proper behavior, who I was allowed and not allowed to socialize with. And by god, I was not to tarnish the family's reputation. Her struggles, were my struggles.

“Why is it, she wondered now, that boys get to do things and be things and girls only get to watch?”

I loved Jo, because she is a realistic character. Even the romance (which I initially scoffed at), and the love triangle (which as a rule, I utterly detest) didn't drive her story. It just happened to be her life. As a young heiress, she was expected to wed, and wed well. It is her love for her father, and her noble notion of justice that drives her story of personal growth. While she made romantic decisions that I thought were hasty or foolish, they remained true to who she is. And above all, there were realistic consequences for her decisions. Her poor choices and in turn, the reactions of the characters around her helped her evolve and understand herself better, and in turn, make better decisions for herself in the future.

“You, on the other hand, wish to know things. And no one can forgive a girl for that.”

“That was what people did when they wanted to stop a girl from doing something—they shamed her.”

I also was very pleased with Nellie Bly as an inspirational figure to Jo. Nellie Bly is a reporter that Jo admires both for her accomplishments in a male-dominated field of journalism as well as her compassion for the 'invisible' people that pass through New York City. It hits me close to home because THIS is why it is so important to have women and minorities (of any kind, whether it is race or gender or sexual orientation) have such important roles in society. They inspire current and future generations to follow their path and further their path. Nellie Bly is the reason that Jo developed her strong sense of ethics, which I greatly admired.

“Headstrong is just a word, Katie - a word others call you when you don't do what they want.”

I'm sure some of you are curious about why I am gushing so much about this book since I didn't give it a full 5 or even 4.5 stars. That had to do with the mystery element and the pacing of it. Perhaps I have simply watched too many crime shows and read too many books and hence can spot a red herring a mile away. I figured out who the villain was within the first third of the book. I had guessed everything, except for one important surprise. However, I still enjoyed Jo's and Eddie's adventures mainly because they took me all around New York and it was fascinating to be there. My favorite scene occurred when Jo was walking along a bridge (maybe the Brooklyn bridge..?) with a friend, and I could just picture how exhilarating that must have been. I think that's the wonderful thing about historical fiction for me, when compared to fantasy. It's easier for me to picture and imagine that this actually happened. The next time I go to New York, I will walk alongside a bridge and smile to myself as I picture Fay and Jo Montfort.

“We who have means and a voice must use them to help those who have neither. Yet how can we help them if we don't even know about them? And how can we know about them if no one writes about them? Is it so wrong to want to know things?”

Daughter of Smoke and Bone » Review

This book, written by one of my favorite authors, did not make a great impression the first time around.  Although you don't know it at first, this first book in Laini Taylor's Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy [spoiler]truly starts in medias res.[/spoiler] There is a lot going on, as well, and it's difficult to get a grip on during the first read-through.  The first time I read the book, I made a lot of incorrect assumptions, like [spoiler]that we were dealing with insta-love. We're not.[/spoiler] I also disliked our main character, Karou, thinking she was a tiresome, self-impressed hipster chick, which she kind of was (in the first book), but when you know all of her backstory, Karou becomes immeasurably more likable. Unfortunately, it takes a while for that backstory to come into play.

What made me push through Daughter of Smoke and Bone was the wealth of positive reviews for the book and my enjoyment of Taylor's short story collection, Lips Touch: Three Times.  I decided I wasn't giving the series the good ol' college try and made another attempt.

I am so glad I did.  Because, while I'm hesitant to call the Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy something like a 'masterpiece,' it is most definitely an 'achievement.'  Laini Taylor's imagination is just insane.  It's a pleasure to dive into and swim through.  She writes well, treating us to surprising little similes and turns of phrase that are so rarely found in YA these days.

About Laini Taylor's style — it's very distinct.  It's distinct to the point where if I read a piece of hers without her name attributed, I'm very certain I could identify it. That's really remarkable, when you think about it. (Remarkable on Taylor's part, not mine :P) So many authors struggle with finding a distinct voice, and Laini Taylor just nails it. Really, the only author I can think of that Taylor shares similarities with is Holly Black, and even then, there are strong differences between the two.

Taylor's style mixes dreamy elements of fantasy with modern settings — romance and humor sprinkled throughout.  There are, of course, Taylor's signature similes and unusual turns of phrase aplenty, although these are much thicker in her short stories than in her novels.  And then, there is always a dark undercurrent of aggression, greed, and sexual violence. I'll get to those issues more in my review of Days of Blood and Starlight, but for now I'll just say that Taylor most definitely has a strong thematic message throughout her body of work.

Anyways, about the actual book.  It opens with a blue haired girl, Karou, being attacked by a vampire.  When I first read the book I was all, "NO! Not another vampire book!" But it's a false alarm — Karou's ex-boyfriend is a street performer/tour guide who dresses like a vampire. Karou, her faux-vampire ex-boyfriend, and her close friend, Zusana, all live in Prague — a nicely exotic setting.  Karou and Zusana are art students and I'd now write that Karou lives a pretty normal life... only she doesn't.  She is replete with mystery.  She knows martial arts, keeps a knife in her boot, speaks tons of languages, never seems to dye her perfectly blue hair, and good luck follows her everywhere.

We find out the answers to all of these mysteries soon enough, but I found it overwhelming to take in at first.  Laini Taylor has created an immense story and it's a lot to take in.  This is unquestionably my main complaint with the book, but I couldn't tell you how to fix it.  I'm not sure that Taylor didn't do the best job possible easing us into her huge concept.  It was confusing as all hell at first.

Another weakness of the story lies in the *first read-through* of the romance.  When reading the romance for the first time, there are so many misconceptions because the backstory is just not there.  [spoiler]You don't even know that there IS a backstory.[/spoiler] So, when I first read the book, I thought, this is intolerable!  It isn't, actually — it's just way more palatable and intriguing once you know more about what's going on in the story.

Overall, Daughter of Smoke and Bone is a very good beginning to a great series.  There are definitely some issues with how the immensity of information is introduced, but don't ask me how Taylor could have done better.  I give this first book in the trilogy four stars.



 

The Subtle Knife » Review

In the sequel to The Golden Compass, Phillip Pullman shows how a book can be totally different from its predecessor while still holding true to the style and heart of the original.

At the end of His Dark Materials' first installment, Lyra and her daemon, Pantalaimon, stepped through a rift in the universe and into a parallel world.  Needless to say, I was anxious to see how Lyra was faring and where she went.  Masterfully, however, Pullman draws out the suspense by introducing us to a new protagonist, Will Parry, who lives in a place readers are quite familiar with.

After becoming immersed in the alternate Britain of the first book, it was somewhat jarring to encounter our own, modern world.  I thought it was pretty genius, however, making His Dark Materials into a more complex fantasy.  The interplay between the worlds was fantastic, as we soon see, for early in the book, Will stumbles into a parallel universe himself and bumps right into Lyra Silvertongue.

The chemistry between Will and Lyra was fantastic, but not in a romantic sense.  Their interactions were dynamic because they're such fundamentally different people.  Will is very much an adult before his years, solid and responsible, while Lyra is like the spirit of childhood, clever and minxish.  The two were at delicious odds when they first meet. However, what Will and Lyra both are is resourceful, and pretty soon, they've created an intriguing plot for readers to follow.

Our slew of villainous adults from book one are back in The Subtle Knife, with even more adversaries thrown into the mix for good measure.  We have Mrs. Coulter, beautiful, charismatic, and charming, with her true nature revealed by her infernal monkey daemon.  Then there is Lord Asriel, seemingly a force for good but willing to do incredibly evil things.  The fact that Coulter and Asriel are Lyra's true parents, well, it makes matters even more complex.  Such intriguing questions emerge. Do Coulter and Asriel have love for their daughter inside their hearts, at all?  And how much of her parents' characters is made manifest in Lyra?

The Subtle Knife was an outstanding book, straddling the line between middle grade and young adult.  In the end though, the book is ageless.

Shadow and Bone » Review

Even though it was years ago, I still remember when I first read Shadow and Bone.  I started it in the evening... see where this is going? Yes, rays of light were poking through the windows by the time I finished the book.  Those rays of light were so fitting, let me tell you.

The book's premise isn't super unique.  There is a girl who manifest super special powers and finds out she must save her country (and the world!) from evil.  But, you know, there's a reason that general premise is so popular.  It's super compelling.  Add to that Bardugo's Russian inspired setting, vivid description, and worldbuilding and we have something special on our hands.

Alina Starkov, our protagonist, is an unlikely Chosen One.  She's prickly, scrawny, and ordinary. Oh yeah, and really grumpy and insecure.  She's a character that you only sometimes admire, but always root for.  Our villain is the Darkling, an almost omnipotent "grisha,"  who can summon and manipulate darkness.  He's almost a deity and he is pretty freaky.  I rate him up with Sauran in my list of "Near Impossible to Beat Literary Antagonists."  Many readers find him dishy, but I don't feel that way.  This character is a bad person.

As I mentioned before, the setting is in a Russian inspired country at the beginning of its industrial age.  The fitting term used by Bardugo to describe her genre, is "czarpunk."  Our story starts out with teenage Alina conscripted as a mapmaker's apprentice in the national Ravkan army.  Maybe it's due to all of the World War II footage I've seen in my schooldays, but I could picture so vividly the chilly landscape and dirty roads that the army stops through in our opening scenes. Also conscripted in her regiment is Alina's best friend and childhood soulmate, Mal.  Poor Alina has a serious case of the loves for Mal, which, again, isn't exactly original, but was very compelling regardless.

But I'm dancing around the main hook of the story.  There is a magic system in Bardugo's word.  Much like Kristin Cashore's Graceling, certain people are born with powers that bend the laws of the natural world.  These grisha are powerful figures in Ravka, and comprise an army led by their most powerful member, the Darkling.  As mentioned previously, the Darkling summons darkness.  His foil, a summoner of light, has not been discovered. Untiiiiil...

There now, doesn't that intrigue you?

As for faults, I found the middle portion of the book to sag slightly compared with Shadow and Bone's powerhouse opening and ending.  Alina could be insufferable at times, but it's understandable, as she's at the beginning of her character arc.  Got to start from somewhere, right.

All in all, this is a five star YA read and Leigh Bardugo has emerged as a top author in the genre.  If you like YA lit in the slightest, this isn't a book you'll want to pass over.

Six of Crows » Review

I love this book so much I carry it around with me when I go places. I love it so much that I mark it up with colored pens so I can figure out how Leigh Bardugo writes so well. I love it so much that I'm currently reading everything Bardugo has written. I love it so much that I've read the book five times over already, and it hasn't even been a month since its release.

Part of the reason I love it is that I'm currently writing an industrial fantasy adventure and Six of Crows happens to be an industrial fantasy adventure. It's a little niche off of steampunk that I love. So right away the genre of this book had me. There are all the issues that come from the setting being on the cusp of modernity, there's a healthy dose of magic, and there's action, risk, and suspense. Love it!

Another aspect I adored was the character development. The book follows a team of criminals and has an ensemble narration, with clearly defined arc for each character. Mechanically, the character arcs were neat and well done. Emotionally, they were compelling.

My favorite characters, though I loved them all, were Kaz and Inej. Kaz is the perfect anti-hero, a twisted and dark criminal genius, who happens to still be a teenager and working his way to the top. Inej is a former sex slave that Kaz rescued and turned into his own personal spy, redirecting her skills in acrobatic performance.  Their relationship is so compelling.  I could seriously write an essay on their relationship, their dynamics are so complex.

There's also Jesper, a combat savant with a nasty gambling addiction. There's Nina, a grisha Heartrender — a throwback connection to Bardugo's Shadow and Bone series. There's Matthias, a Nordic-inspired giant who worked as a grisha hunter before he was imprisoned on a hellish island. And then there's Wylan. Poor Wylan is the only member of the team who doesn't get POV chapters, so as of now, I'd call him a more peripheral character. He has a privileged background, but threw it all away because of his principles.



The book starts out with a chapter that could turn off readers, because it slides into the action indirectly and gradually, through the POV of a redshirt. Chapter two is when we get introduced to Inej, and from there, I can't see readers having a problem sticking with the book. It sinks its claws in.

As for the plot, I think Bardugo did a marvelous job in making things believable. There were a few instances where I questioned plausibility, but for a heist novel, it was pretty solid. Bardugo also did fantastic work in weaving quiet moments into the action. I just want to give her a standing ovation.

Already, I'm plotting how to get my greedy paws on the sequel, Empire of Crows as soon as I possibly can. Six of Crows ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, setting up book two perfectly. This is going to be an amazing series, everyone.

Also, I entered a contest to get my name inserted in the second book.  This is my entry.



 

Series Review Part 1 » Percy Jackson and the Olympians

I babysit for a family that has a serious book collection.  When I'm at their house, I like to browse the titles and be impressed.  They have non-fiction, adult fiction, YA, middle grade, and children's books.  The breadth is staggering. They own complete series, that match.  (So impressive.) There are plenty of books I've heard of, but haven't read, and these intrigue me the most.  I look at those undiscovered books and wish I was there to read instead of babysit.

One night at their house, I broke and reached for The Lightning Thief.  

"Are you going to read?" asked my charge with a mixture of disbelief and bemusement. (He had just lugged out his G.I. Joe collection.)

"Just a tad," I replied. I had never read the Percy Jackson series.  They were released round about when I reached my John Grisham phase of reading, which went on for many years.  By the time I emerged from that, I wasn't a kid anymore, and Percy Jackson was off my radar.  But that night, while babysitting, surrounded by a treasure trove of middle grade literature, my curiosity led me to pluck book one off the shelf.

I made it through a single chapter before the guilt overcame me, and I re-absorbed myself in the uninteresting world of G. I. Joes, to my charge's approval.  Though, hours later, when bed time came, I lobbied hard for The Lightning Thief to be the night's read.  My charge acquiesced.  Three chapters later, we were at the part where the Fates are going after Percy's lifespan with their snippy-snappy scissors, and the 7 year-old next to me was terrified.

"This is scary!" he whimpered pitifully, clutching himself to my protective breast.  You're not going to be able to handle Lord Voldemort for quite a few years yet, boyo, I thought. We put The Lightning Thief aside and read Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

It was with eagerness and anticipation the next morning that I trekked to the public library to check out the full Percy Jackson series, although it was with waning pleasure that I read through The Lightning Thief, The Sea of Monsters, and The Titan's Curse.  Part of the disconnect came from me being older than the age target, yes.  There was also the part of me that attended classical cottage school and happens to be a Greek mythology purist that was all sorts of conflicted.

In the end, I can come to terms with Riordan's modern usage of classical Greek myth.   I mean, what do I expect, kids to learn mythology straight from the mouth of Ovid? Even the tome I learned from was illustrated! Really, Riordan puts a fun spin on everything, especially the seedier business of gods having flings with mortals.  He even suggests that goddesses can run around on their husbands without reparation. (Really, if Hera ever had an affair, Zeus would fling her into Tartarus, I'm sure.) I'd be horrified that youths were reading about adults cheating on their spouses and having reckless sex, only I read about this stuff as a child, myself.

Mostly though, I found the ceaseless repetition of the books to be tiresome.  With each book I've read so far, Percy has arrived at camp for the summer, encountered a problem, gone on a quest, and returned triumphant.  I find the quest portions of the  books to be especially redundant, with Percy flitting from challenge to challenge, encountering mythological monsters updated for modern times, one after the other.  At times, it felt like Riordan was moving through a checklist. Cerberus. Check. Medusa. Check. Scylla and Charybdis. Check. 

The fact that Riordan's books are such massive hits speaks for itself, however.  Despite their falling short of masterpiece status, there's something about these books that many people find highly appealing.  It's a classic hero tale and adventure lark that fits Joseph Cambell's theory of plot to a T.  But, despite speaking to the visceral human understanding of story, these books just haven't grabbed me yet.

Siege and Storm » Review

Siege and Storm is such a middle book.  By that I mean, it is very much a bridge between a beginning and an ending and doesn't really pull too much new stuff out of its hat.  Despite this, it's still a good read.  However, it didn't knock my socks off like its predecessor, Shadow and Bone, did.

The book starts off with Alina and Mal on the run from the Darkling.  Then, mere pages into the book, the plot arrives with a bang.  Seriously, I got some reader whiplash from how fast things took off.  Perhaps I would have appreciated a bit slower of a buildup.

Then, once things get going, they are going, until... the pace drops.  We get chapter after chapter of descriptive summary and very little dialogue.  With the breakneck start, this sudden lull was a bit jarring and noticeable.

As for our romance, it was in a middle-of-the-series state as well.  Alina juggles three romantic possibilities.  Three.  It was a bit much, even for a romance lover like myself.

She continues to pine after Mal, despite, you know, being with him, and their relationship struggles under the weight of Alina's chosen-one burden.  They are most definitely the most insecure couple I've ever encountered in fiction, although Mr. and Mrs. de Winter from Rebecca come in a close second place.  At one point, one of Bardugo's characters comments, saying something to the effect of, "for a case of true love, you two are awfully insecure."  Truth!  But is it any less annoying for being highly intentional on the author's part?

We also meet a bevy of new characters, and the series is stronger for it.  I particularly liked meeting the younger son of the King.  He was a complex, yet distinct, character and scenes were always brightened by his presence.  Vasily, his older brother, made for a great villain as well.  Coming from Kentucky, Vasily reminded me so much of a particular brand of snob that is the rich horse racing aficionado.  Perhaps living in California, Leigh Bardugo is familiar with the breed as well.

As for the Darkling, he was largely absent in the book, which I liked, because that character scares the bejeezus out of me.  A mass murderer who almost claims the omni-trifecta: omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient? Yikes.  I hesitate to say he's a flat character, because a lot of it can be chalked up to his being mysterious, but I've never gotten into the Darkling.  His sins never leave my mind long enough for me to feel anything but creeped out.  But maybe the fact that he provides a lot of food for thought makes him an accomplished character? Perhaps.

This has been a very muddled review, but I hope I got across what I wanted.  Siege and Storm was a good book, yet raised a lot of argumentative feelings in me regarding the plot and characters.

The Golden Compass » Review

When I was a kid, I was homeschooled, and ran with a very religious crowd. Lutherans, Methodists, Mennonites, Baptists, Southern Baptists... All of my friends had different belief systems, which had subtle differences despite being all 'Christian.' My family, however, was Catholic, and we were a minority in the universally Christian homeschooling community. On the kids' part, we ignored our families' differences when we got together to learn or play. Sparks flew amongst the parents though, and the kids picked up on it. From my mother, me and my siblings learned words like 'Heretic', 'Protestant,' 'Anti-Catholic,' 'Sola Scriptura' and 'Scott Hahn.' A climate of bias against, and downright hatred towards, other Christian religions was the norm of my youth. In high school, I attended a Protestant cottage school. Okay, I guess it was Southern Baptist technically, but wow the principal loathed Catholics. (This woman was also cruelty incarnate.) She knew my family and I were Catholic and would glare at me when ranting about the extravagances of the Vatican and the morally corrupt popes like I, personally, spoke for the Magisterium. She loved Pullman's His Dark Materials. Loved it with a special kind of passion. Why? Mostly because, besides writing really bomb books, Pullman lobs those bombs at Catholicism. Pullman's main antagonistic force in his series is the "Authority." This oligarchical organization rules through the power religious belief and wealth, and has enough power and sway to influence world politics. Sound familiar??? In book one of the trilogy, The Golden Compass, we see the Authority give power to an off-shoot organization, which, in turn, kidnaps and mutilates the souls of children. This is subtle stuff for kids, but a glaringly obvious motive to an adult reader. Now, I don't have a problem with Pullman putting a controversial message into a children's books. Virtually every children's book has a motive, some more intense than others. Furthermore, speaking as a (non-practicing) Catholic, I understand that nothing,nothing is above criticism. To get all worked up over someone else's questioning of your beliefs is the mark of extremism. I love Pullman's writing. It's classic, lyrical, and vastly imaginative. I also like his powerful and gutsy message. Unfortunately, I will always associate this amazing book with one of the pettiest, most mean-spirited adults I've ever encountered... But it all works out though. Because all I have to do is imagine my former teacher's head on top of Mrs. Coulter's wretched monkey daemon, and everything is perfect.

The Midnight Thief | Review

The only reason this little fantasy novel came to my attention is because its sequel was on a list for August 2015 releases.  Thank Jesus that I don't have long to wait to read the second book, because I am officially a fan of the series.

The Midnight Thief features thieves and assassins in a fantasy setting — a dynamite combination.  Our thief is Kyra, a young lady who pays the rent by taking on burgling jobs.  She's has a bit of a Robin Hood mentality, however.  She only steals from the citizens of her city, Forge, who can afford it.  Trouble starts, however, when Kyra's impressive talents catch the attention of James, the young and ruthless leader of Forge's assassin's guild.

Now think.  This is a YA fantasy.  Kyra is a young woman.  James is a young man.  All reason and genre precedents lead to there being a romance between the two.  And it sort of happens.  Sort of.  But more than that, there is incredible tension between the two.  I was staggered by what went down between these characters.  I can't say anything more, except that I am extremely interested to see where Blackburne is going to take the relationship between the two going forward.

Somewhat less interesting is our second narrator, Tristam, who is a soldier for Forge.  He has been stationed out beyond the city walls, attempting to protect the suburbs, if you will, from raiding parties of humanoid monsters that ride gigantic cats.  Yes, you read that right.  It's a little weird, but I can forgive the oddity.  Through Tristam, we get the perspective of the side of the political opposition to the assassin's guild and James.  Unfortunately, or perhaps not (???), there may be a love triangle a-brewing amongst Kyra, James, and Tristam.  All I can say is, if Blackburne decides to develop that gist, then I have no idea how things will unfold.  I have a favorite, isallI'msayin'.

I'm almost ashamed to admit... but I'm solidly Team James.  I KNOW! He's so violent and, if not evil, then certainly bad.  He does bad, bad things in The Midnight Thief and I would understand if his status as a love interest is completely compromised.  I can't help, however, but hold out hope for his redemption.  He's an enthralling character.  As Kyra notes:

There was something about James—his intensity of purpose and strength of personality—that could inspire a woman’s loyalty despite the cost.

I'm a fan. Going forward, I hope that James does not become the story's villain outright.  He is given nice dimension in The Midnight Thief, but the ending sees ol' Jimmy on very uncertain grounds.  Basically, I'm dying to see what happens next.

As for complaints, I will say that the pace at the beginning may have been too breakneck.  It was nice to have matters develop so quickly, but it also seemed a little slapdash, having scenes tie up so fast.  Likewise, it might have been nice to have some more world-building happen in beginning so we get a better idea of the setting our characters are operating in.  Overall, it's not bad when your main complaint is wanting moar!

Naturally, I will be reading book two, Daughter of Dusk, the day it comes out.  Stay tuned for my reaction to the second installment in this promising, new series!

 

The Falconer | Review

Let me start this review with a small rant about steampunk.

Steampunk, or mechanical fantasy as I call it, is a genre of fiction featuring a historical setting with advanced, often whimsical, technology.  It is often set in the Victorian period, although there are exceptions.  Dirigibles, automatons, spider-like vehicles, and weapons masquerading as ladies' accessories are popular pieces of steampunk machinery.

I DO NOT LIKE IT!

I dislike how steampunk machinery makes no scientific sense whatsoever.  I also dislike how steampunk books are often choked with genre cliches and tropes.

That being said, I can tolerate it in small doses.  My favorite series of all time, Lindsay Buroker's The Emperor's Edge, has steampunk elements to it.  However, for the most part, the technology in Buroker's series make sense, and the characters are often slaving over hot boilers or wrangling awkward machinery gone awry.  I like that Buroker's machines are bulky and malfunctioning and hinder the heroes as often as they help them.

On the other hand, Elizabeth May's The Falconer has the kind of steampunk technology that I'm not overly fond of — mechanical hands that shoot out to pour tea and fold bustles.  There are implausible helicopters ornithopters and and little ornate devices that hold tremendous power.  Um, what kind of power and how does the device harness it?  Nevermind that! Tremendous power!!

I connect the star and the remaining knife. Power flows from the objects as they melt together to form the larger star. The metal is smooth in my palm again.

See what I mean?  It's nonsense, I tell you!

As for the rest of the book, it's good.  It's a fun read, with kick-ass heroine and lots of action and antics.  The Falconer follows a young Victorian lady of Edinburgh, Aileana Kameron, whose mother was brutally murdered by a faery.  In the days after her mother's death, Aileana learned that her country has a bit of a faery infestation and humans are being slaughtered because of it.  Shortly after, she met her... unique... tutor, Kiaran McKay, who instructs her in all things murderous and violent.  With his help she goes on a supernatural killing spree.  Her life of wreaking revenge is upended, however, when she learns that the faeries below ground,  imprisoned in their kingdom, are very close to breaking out.

My favorite part of the book, funnily enough, was a character called Derrick.  He plays the comical sidekick, which is usually a part that I care little for.  But Derrick was truly hilarious.  He's a pixie, a male Tinkerbell, and lives in Aileana's closet, mending her gowns for honey, which intoxicates him.  His scenes caused me to laugh quite often.  More than that, he also served to make the fae folk more accessible.  Athough Derrick doesn't kill humans like his larger kinfolk, he is still an uncanny creature.  I liked how May made the villains slightly more sympathetic by giving them a spectrum of behavior that we got to witness.

However, there were issues with the book besides the steampunk.  I found myself arguing with Aileana's logic and the behavior of other characters quite a bit.  The writing also seemed to be... manipulative, unkind, coy?  I felt strung along, as a reader, having things withheld that didn't have to be.  Did the romance really have to unfold that way?  It was strung out for so long that when something did happen it felt too little too late.  And the cliffhanger.  By god.  What a disservice to readers.

All in all, I give The Falconer three stars.  It had good elements and frustrations in equal measure.  However, I will surely be picking up the sequel, which comes out this November.

 

 

Court of Fives | Review

Court of Fives started out so, so wonderfully.  For the first third of the book, I was totally and completely enraptured.  So, understandably I think, I was a little miffed when the book took a turn for the worse right before its halfway point.  What Court of Fives did well, it did well.  Which made its mistakes that much more disappointing.

So, what it's about... It's not a close enough interpretation of Little Women to be a retelling, but Court of Fives is definitely inspired by Louisa May Alcott's classic.  Both books feature families with four daughters and a military-enlisted father.  Elliott's daughters have names that correspond closely with Alcott's famous Mary, Beth, Jo, and Amy. The "Jo" character has a passionate hobby. However, that's where the salutation ends.  The connection is a touch random and amounts to nothing but a startling revelation if you went into reading not knowing about it.  Personally, I think the story could have stood up just fine without the matchy-matchy names.

Court of Fives is set in an empire that's a little Egyptian, a little Persian, a touch Venetian, etc.  There is some mechanical fantasy thrown in as well, akin to steampunk, most prominently in the form of the Fives, a competitive obstacle course. Our protagonist, Jo, I mean Jes, secretly trains for the Fives when she can escape from her large family.  Speaking of her family... draaaaama.  Jes and her sisters are racial mixes.  Their father is a lowborn, yet high achieving, son of the empire. The girls' mother is their father's concubine, incapable of being being his wife because her heritage is that of the empire's conquered people.

The whole situation is a tense, awkward mess and it was an utter pleasure to read about.  I'd say the family dynamics were, hands down, the best part of Court of Fives.  I was on the edge of my seat to find out what would happen next with the faux-Marches, especially when the seediness of having a live-in concubine and a mess of illegitimate daughters gets in the way of the father's burgeoning military career.  I'm getting shivers just thinking about it.

As for our protagonist, Jes, I'm going to get real for a second.  Unlike everyone else on planet Earth, Amy is my favorite March sister.  I loathe self-appeciative Jo.  Elliott's Jes is similar enough in personality to Alcott's Jo that my distaste crossed over.  I could tolerate Jes and her spunkiness tolerably well until the character made, in my opinion, a terrible decision that careened the story away from the direction I wanted it to go in.  Depending on whether or not you agree with Jes's decision can make or break Court of Fives for you, I think.

All in all, there were some highly successful elements to Court of Fives that make it worth reading.  However, I'll be curious to see if other readers object as strongly as myself concerning Jes's decisions.

 

Uprooted | Review

Uprooted gets a standing ovation and 4.5 stars! Bra-vo!

Written in a style reminiscent of old-school Robin McKinley and Diana Wynne Jones, Uprooted is a standout fantasy and fairytale retelling.  Agnieszka (Ahn-YESH-ka) has always been prepared for the day when she and the other girls in her village will be inspected, and one taken away, by the ageless wizard and lord known as "the Dragon."  However, she and everyone else in the village always expected Kasia, the most exceptional girl amongst them, to be selected as a tribute.  When the Dragon selects Agnieszka instead, she must submit to ten years of servitude and confinement.

It sounds like a straightforward Beauty and the Beast interpretation, no?  However, after the initial hook, the story diverges drastically from your run-of-the-mill romance.  What drives the story forward is the threat of an insidious and elusive dark magic.  Manifesting itself as a thick, impenetrable forest, the sentient evil is slowly and inexorably spreading across the kingdom.  Agnieszka is swept up in the resistance against this evil, her unique talents forcing the Dragon and herself into an uneasy alliance.

The whole self-aware, malevolent forest thing is quite similar to Rosamund Hodge's evil woods in Crimson Bound, a high-profile novel released just months before Uprooted, but in my opinion, Novik wins the comparison hands down.  Although I read Crimson Bound first, I didn't understand what Hodge was trying to accomplish until I took up Novik's novel.  The forest was deliciously creepy and an inventive villain.

As for the characters, I found Agnieszka to be a fantastic heroine, resourceful and intuitive.  She was well written, being both a distinct person and consistent in her behaviors, while also growing throughout the story.  The cantankerous and wounded Dragon was equally compelling.  These two characters and their combative relationship steered the novel, but the assisting and peripheral characters were an accomplishment as well.  However, I must complain, as others have, that the Dragon was not given nearly enough page time to satisfy me.  There had better be a sequel.

Overall, Uprooted was a fantastic read and is a novel to get excited over.  If you enjoy fairytale retellings, or YA fantasy, this book is not to be missed.

The Viper and the Urchin Review

This book came to my attention when the author emailed me, saying she'd seen that I'd reviewed and liked Lindsay Buroker's self-published Emperor's Edge series, and would I be interested in reviewing her own book, which held similarities to Buroker's work?

Well.  As an utter fanatic of The Emperor's Edge and its sequels, I search ceaselessly for books that recapture Buroker's style and magic.  Of course, I wrote the author back, saying yes, please send me your book!  At once! — I mentally added.

Now, having finished reading it, I can say that The Viper and the Urchin was a short, solid start to what looks to be a series with potential.  It indeed holds similarities to Buroker's Emperor's Edge —  they are both set in a industrial fantasy setting, with mild steampunk elements.  There are assassins, whose names both end in "us" — although Jeanjean's deadly alchemist Longinus is decidedly different from Buroker's consummate killer, Sicarius.

I didn't know what to make of Longinus at first.  I was slow to wrap my head around such a foppish — at times foolish — assassin.  As the novel drew onwards, I began to find him slightly endearing, although the brevity of the book, 262 pages, was not enough to explain his motivations for killing fully. He seems to be a gentler soul, so why is he drawn to murder? Besides [spoiler]it being his family's trade.[/spoiler] I hope my questions regarding this will be answered in Jeanjean's upcoming installments.

Longinus was not the only protagonist, however.  He shares narration with Rory, an 18 year-old city urchin who harbors ambitions of becoming a great swordsman, like her idol, the Scarred Woman.  Rory was your typical scrappy heroine, who has a heart of gold buried beneath the law-breaking behavior adopted to help her survive the cruel streets.  She discovers some embarrassing information about Longinus, and blackmails him — her secrecy in exchange for lessons in dueling.

Neither of these characters really flew off of the page for me, but I do have hope that they'll slowly be built up over time.

Where The Viper and the Urchin really impressed me was its political intrigue.  The story takes place in a tiny, muggy, little country called Damsport, which used to be the property of an empire about 45 years ago, give or take a decade.  Independence was won by Damsport's young Marchioness who then made a series of brilliant political maneuvers, turning Damsport into an international trade center.  When the empire tried to take Damsport back into the fold, the little country waged a Thermopolyae-esque stand, in time for its allies to push the empire back.  The emperor has been bitter ever since.

This aspect of the story really held my attention.  Going forward, it seems as if the politics will continue to develop, which is excellent.

The style of writing was good, at times showing signs of beginner wobbles, but solid all the same.  I particularly liked a descriptive passage that described Damsport's Wet Market:

The Wet Market was the centre of the Great Bazaar, and therefore the very heart of Damsport. But whereas most hearts pulsate, pumping out life’s blood, Damsport’s heart dripped.  Live fish and crustaceans dripped sea water onto the cobblestones, and dead fish dripped murky viscera. Blood dripped from meat cleavers, whey from cheesecloths, ale through the cracks of poorly constructed barrels, and piss from table legs, attesting to the passage of a stray dog.

Milk dripped from jugs, from udders, from chins; berries dripped juice, makeshift awnings dripped leftover rainwater, and priests dripped holy water. Sweat dripped from the faces of porters, bent under heavy loads, wine dripped down the chins of those checking its quality, and snot dripped from children’s and old men’s noses.  Fat dripped from sausages, dripping dripped from fried fish, vinegar dripped from prawn dumplings, eaten by hand straight from enormous bamboo steamers. Beer dripped from spilt tankards, mud-coloured tobacco water from water pipes, wine from broken bottles, brandy from over-hurried gulps, fire liquor from glasses dashed onto the cobbles, tea from teapot spouts, and more urine dripped from over-refreshed men.

All of it drip-drip-dripped onto the Wet Market’s cobblestones, found its way to the gutters, and trickled off along each of the Twelve, gathering speed thanks to the gentle downward slopes, and carrying the lifeblood and stench of the Wet Market out to the rest of Damsport.

A tad long-winded, but very evocative!

All in all, I give The Viper and the Urchin 3.5 stars — I liked the book and intend to follow the series, but the brevity of the novel and its subsequent lack of development makes me hesitant to rank it higher.  However, The Viper and the Urchin left me wanting more — truly a good sign. I very much look forward to seeing how Celine Jeanjean unfolds her debut series.

 

 

 

Daughter of Deep Silence Review

Remember the TV show Revenge? It was a show with a wacky but compelling first season, about a young women on a mission of... revenge. I'm pleased to say that Daughter of Deep Silence is very similar to Revenge, both in subject matter and tone, but doesn't approach copycat status.  Well done, Carrie Ryan, if the nod to Revenge was intentional, which I kind of hope it was.

Daughter of Deep Silence follows Frances, a girl who was fourteen when unmasked gunmen boarded the cruise ship that she and her parents were passengers on.  Everyone was slaughtered, except Frances and her friend Libby, who escaped by hiding on a forgotten dumbwaiter.  Adrift on a life raft, the girls are discovered by Libby's father's own ship, but too late for Libby to survive.  While convalescing in a hospital, Frances discovers that Grey Wells, a fellow passenger that she had a brief, yet powerful, romance with, and his father, a U.S. Senator, survived the gunmen as well.  Only Grey and his father don't mention any gunmen... they blame an enormous wave for the disaster.  Figuring the Senator, and possibly Grey, had something to do with the attack, and that she is still in danger, Frances goes into hiding. Then, years later, hardened and formidable, Frances plays her own retaliatory hand.

First, let's get some issues of the way.  Much like Revenge, Daughter of Deep Silence has plot holes galore.  There were a ton of things that made no sense.  Fortunately for me, these plot holes didn't bother me so much.  This may not be the case with all readers, but I gave this book a lot of leeway, perhaps because I wanted to enjoy it.  However, I do acknowledge that the plot holes are a legitimate weakness of the book.

Secondly, Frances' actions can be maddening at times.  She waffles at moments, vacillating between being too hard and too soft.  These actions are consistent with her character, however, which is highly conflicted.  I can readily see how some readers would be very put off by Frances.

Thirdly, I have this feeling that the book had quite a bit of unrealized potential.  The novel had a very nice concept and solid characters, but wound up drawing back instead of moving forward a number of times.  I realize that this criticism is quite abstract... What I mean is, is that Ryan could have pushed the envelope a little further to make this book even better.

Now for the things I liked.  The flashback scenes were very effective, I thought.  The contrast between the young girl Frances used to be, and the hard woman she is now was striking.  Her memories are poignant and sepia-toned, knowing as we do how those blissful moments at sea before the disaster were Frances' last happy times.  The romance between a young Grey and Frances was pretty darn sexy, for them being so young.  I mean, wowza.  A standout scene in the book was a memory of Frances and Grey swimming together, playing around with his water-proof phone.  The scene is blissful and passionate and then Ryan transitions that phone into the future with cymbal-crashing shock.  It was my favorite moment of the book.

So, while I'd like to give Daughter of Deep Silence a higher rating, I'm more than aware of its shortcomings.  However, I did legitimately enjoy this book and I look forward to Carrie Ryan's future offerings.

 

 

Code Name Verity Review

Giving this book 3 stars makes me feel like I have no class.  Certainly, this book deserves a higher rating.  But although I appreciated the novel for its meticulous research, daring plot, and unusual narration, it just did not capture my heart.

I'm heartless along with having no class!

The story opens bleakly, with our narrator captured by the Gestapo. We are reading her written "confession" as it were.  She spins a tale of two young women — one is from Manchester, the other is a Scottish noble.  Maddie and Queenie meet during the war effort in 1936, on an air base. The two quickly become friends, but are separated as they take different paths.  Then, they are thrown together again unexpectedly, as both are needed for a top secret mission in France.

I'm not entirely sure why this book was marketed as YA.  Although the ages of these women are never discussed, they're certainly not teenagers.  The only reason I can think of is that the book has a less mature tone.  This sounds bad, I know.  What I mean is, I found the premise to be slightly implausible.  Certainly women took on a more significant role in the war effort during World War II, but I found the story of Maddie and Queenie to be such that is only possible in fiction.  It's the kind of wish fulfillment frequently found in YA literature.

One thing is undeniable, however — the book is incredibly well researched.  So much so that there's a bibliography at the end of the book.  The detail is superb; the voice is solidly of the period. It was extremely impressive.  That being said, I did think that the language was at times overly clogged with this period detail. This made my progress through Code Name Verity somewhat labored.

Another aspect that disappointed me — I can't seem to stop myself — was the friendship between Maddie and Queenie.  I guess I was expecting more chemistry.  But, apart from the fantastic early stage of their relationship, the reader doesn't get to experience the two together so much.  This was a bit of a letdown, since I was looking forward to reading about a solid friendship.

All of this is to say that I expected more from the book than I experienced.  Somehow, though, I feel more disappointed in myself than in the book.

The Walled City Review

Desperation practically ekes out of Ryan Graudin's The Walled City.  These are characters gambling with enormous stakes — much more dire than simply staying alive.  Jin, Mei Yee, and Dai are dangling above the precipice of human agony. 

Jin Ling lives in Hak Nam Walled City of her own volition, surviving by stealing food and necessities, and running like hell. She is also searching for her sister, sold, by their father years before, to a drug lord.

Mei Yee, forced into sex work, lives caged in a brothel, under constant threat. Mei Yee has no other option but to sit, stagnant, in her prison, and let waves of horror and misery wash over her.

Dai cannot bring himself to set foot outside of the Walled City.  He is trying desperately to free himself from a cage of his own making, and he must enlist Jin Ling's talents to do so, by compromising the drug lord Longwai.

A note on the book's setting... Based off of Kowloon Walled City in Hong Kong, Graudin's Hak Nam Walled City is a gritty, compelling backdrop.   Like its real world inspiration, Hak Nam is a re-purposed fort adjacent to a larger metropolis, turned into an over-packed mess of people stacked up on top of each other. It's a cluster of anarchy — full of gang activity, drug running, and human trafficking.  In regards to time and place — it was a little confusing.  It's my deduction that The Walled City is set an indeterminate Asian country, during an indeterminate period of modernity.

At this point, after detailing the characters and setting, it might seem like I'm going to make a glowing recommendation. But, this is not the case.  In fact, I believe that this book was more promising than successful.  There were definitely some admirable aspects to it, but I would strongly hesitate in recommending the book to other readers.

One reason for this concerns the book's style. On one hand, Graudin's voice utilizes effective dirty realism.  The setting of the walled city — its grime, its poverty, its depravity — sprung to life on the page. On the other hand, there was an extraordinary amount of purple prose. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of similes and and conceits.  At best, I felt some appreciation for the imagination of Graudin's writing. At worst, the prose was so clogged with stylistic elements that I was jarred out of the story completely.

Then, there was the pacing.  This is a story that could have benefited from a break-neck pace.  Instead, the plot was structured around an 18-day countdown.  A mistake, in my opinion.  I slogged through the story. My attention struggled to find a grasp.  Instead of propelling the plot forward, the narration got bogged down in reminisces and extraneous tangents.  

Another complaint — Graudin falls into the tired trope of instantaneous attraction. (AKA — insta-love)  As if I wasn't rolling my eyes enough over the melodramatic prose, all of the hot flashes and abdominal tingling of the love-struck characters sent me over the edge.  What made this nascent relationship extra questionable is that it involved a horribly abused girl who had been forced into sex work.  Giving her such a shallow plot-line really diminished the utter gravity of her situation.  I could not switch over emotionally from descriptions of horrific, sexual abuse to scenes of giddy young love.  It caused me to withdraw emotionally from the story.

It's a shame that this book had such fatal flaws.  If the style had been plainer, the plot brisker, the relationships more thoughtful, I could see myself enjoying this book for its resonant setting and high-stakes storyline.  As it is, I give The Walled City two north stars out of five.