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?”

The Passenger » Review

"Hide-and-seek may just be a game, but it's a game you ought to know how to play."

[redacted][redacted] says these words to one of her third grade students.  It's a typical lesson from Miss [redacted].  She is an odd teacher — obsessed with teaching the kids about road maps.  "Let's say you're in Olympia, Washington, and you want to drive to Boise, Idaho.  How would you get there?" She has them read From the Mixed Up Files of Basil E. Frankweiler for English Studies, because it's the only book she liked as a kid.  She is renown in their small town for diving into a freezing lake to save a drowning child.  But Miss [redacted] has only been in town for a few months... and she'll be off again.  Soon.

Her name is not [redacted][redacted].  Nor is it Tanya Dubois.  At some point in time she's answered to those names and more — but her real one?  Some things are best left forgotten.

When The Passenger begins, we don't know why our protagonist is running, just that she must again, after her husband suffers the accidental death of falling down the stairs.  "Tanya" says goodbye to her lover and hits the road, navigating fake IDs, bank account transfers, and car swapping with practiced disease.  We get the sense that this is a game "Tanya" is familiar with, but has never really warmed to.  She's like a hunted animal, jumping at every twitch of a shadow in a truck-stop diner.

Tanya is knocked out of her uncomfortable, if familiar, orbit, however, by a mysterious woman named Blue, who has smarts and skills on par to rival the law-eluding Tanya. For a while I thought The Passenger was going to become a Thelma and Louise-esque caper.  Or worse, something akin to the maudlin sentimentality of Where the Heart Is.  Then something happened that tore that theory apart.  And then Lisa Lutz ripped my assumption up into a few more pieces.

You have to give the author credit.  I had no idea which way the story would twist and turn.  At its worst, I call this an "aimless plot."  At its best it is a "sketch-oriented novel." Our heroine wandered from place to place, identity to identity, with only slight, slight plot development with each go around.  This was either a very brave or very foolish decision for a thriller.

After a certain point though, a very certain point, I had to keep reading.  I'm so glad I did, because our ending was worth the winding road it took to get there.  Granted, the tying together of all our loose threads was quite abrupt, but the manner in which it was presented to us fit with our heroine's character arc.  I've had enough. I'm through.  Let me tell you everything now.  

Compared with her previous works, The Passenger is a marked departure in tone for Lutz.  There are no big laughs in this book — the mood is more somber.  We've gotten glimpses at this side of Lutz's writing before, especially when Izzy is at her low-point in each Spellman book, but we've never seen such consistent low moods before. It's an interesting move — the sign of an author who likes to switch things up for herself. What Lutz keeps and passes on from her previous work, however,  is her sophisticated writing ability, her gritty real-world detail, and her in-crisis characters.

I recommend The Passenger now, having ended it, with confidence.  At the beginning of the book, midway, even three quarters through, I would have hesitated.  This is very much a book that all comes together at its endgame.  I can only hope readers stick with the ride to its end.  The destination is worth the journey.

Pretty Girls Review » A Day In the Life of Karin Slaughter, Horror Novelist

In lieu of an actual book review for Pretty Girls, I'm going to share with you some thoughts I had post-read about its author.  While I was reading the book, and for a good while after, I found myself wondering — really, thinking with wonder — about what kind of person Karin Slaughter is, and what kind of life she must lead to be able to take her mind such horrific places with such attention to detail.  I started creating little scenarios in my head of what her day is like.

8:00 AM: Karin Slaughter gets out of bed.

8:05 AM: Karin Slaughter pours herself a cup of black coffee in a mug emblazoned with the words: FUCK COZY MYSTERIES.

8:10 AM: Karin Slaughter watches the daily news and takes notes with black, black ink.

9:00 AM: Karin Slaughter logs in to the dark web.

10:00 AM: Karin Slaughter receives a visit from the FBI.  She apologizes for being in her pajamas.

11:30 AM: Karin Slaughter walks the FBI to the door.  The agents clutch their signed books, as they apologize for the confusion.

1200 AM: Karin Slaughter retrieves her mail.  She finds a letter addressed to her old name, Karin Darling.  She sets it on fire.

12:10 AM: Karin Slaughter begins to write.

12:30 AM: Karin Slaughter turns on her white noise machine to muffle the sound of her neighbor's chainsaw.  She picks the heartbeat option and is pleased when the machine malfunctions and the heartbeat starts to stutter.

3:00 PM: The combined sounds of the faltering heartbeat and distant chainsaw inspires Karin Slaughter.  Her fingers fly across the keyboard.

5:00 PM: Having written 10,000 usable words, Karin Slaughter stops writing for the day.

5:10 PM: Karin Slaughter goes into her basement and doesn't come out for several hours.

8:30 PM: Karin Slaughter eats rare steak for dinner and cuts her meat into tiny little bloody pieces.

9:00 PM: Karin Slaughter watches Dateline with a bowl of popcorn.

11:00 PM: Karin Slaughter flosses very thoroughly.

11:30 PM: Karin Slaughter sleeps like a baby.

 

 

The Bone Season » Review

What an odd book! When trying to decide on a rating for The Bone Season, I was waffling between three and four stars. My reasoning for three stars was that, while this book is a fantasy of sorts, it was also unrelentingly weird, and I never really felt like I believed it all. What settled me on four stars, however, is the feeling that a lower rating would be doing the book a disservice, because The Bone Season really is an accomplishment.

I'm not even going to try to explain the plot of The Bone Season. Just know that it involves special powers, an oppressive and discriminatory government, underground crime syndicates, a powerful, humanoid species, and a prison camp/city. It's all slightly baffling, which is, in my opinion, the main weakness of the novel. It was so much to take in. Granted, I'm not sure how the author could have presented her world to us in any other way. All I can say is, I frequently found it overwhelming.

Now for the praise. The creative bravery of Samantha Shannon is something to be applauded. Despite the fact that the world ofThe Bone Season did my head in at times, it was also nice to read something so different from what's usually presented in urban fantasy genre. In fact, I hesitate to call this series true urban fantasy since that genre has become so distinct — read trope ridden — of late. The quality of writing that we see in The Bone Season was also at a higher level than what we typically see in urban fantasy of late. There were slip ups throughout the novel, but for the most part, I was impressed by the solid prose.

Our main character, Paige, is compelling as well. She's 19 during the events of the book, but comes across as much older. She's a quiet, self-possessed young woman, although she's still trying to find herself. Shannon also strikes a great balance between making Paige be special and stand out from the crowd, without turning the character into a reprehensibly superior life form.

Speaking of superior life forms, there is the Warden, who is the second most prominent character in The Bone Season. For him, I really think we need more books to develop him further. He's depicted, throughout the novel, as both a cold, empty shell and as someone with unusual motives that go against the tide of his species. He was a little all over the place, but he was, nonetheless, a commanding presence. I do look forward to see where Shannon takes him during her 7-book series arc.

All in all, there were plenty of bones to pick with this novel, but I couldn't help being impressed despite it all. I'm truly looking forward to following this immense, new series.

The Night Birds | Review

Okay... ahem... full disclosure: I'm going to do my level BEST to get you to read this little, unknown piece of historical fiction. Be prepared.

It's crazy how this book first popped on my radar. It was either 2009 or 2010 and I was browsing the stacks at my local library. I picked up The Night Birds because I got a good feeling from it, like some sort of wacky, mystical book-sniffer. Two days later, I'd finished the novel and felt like I'd just stepped off an emotional tilt-a-whirl.

I've only ever read this book once. My library no longer has a copy (probably my fault; I took the book along with me on a kayaking trip aaaaand kind of dropped it in a river) and I have a hunch that it's out of print. Now that I think on it, I should really hunt down a copy and purchase it. All of this is to say, my memory of the book's particulars are unfortunately fuzzy.

What I remember most starkly, however, are the huge waves of emotion that I felt while reading The Night Birds. Huge, huge waves of feelings. Also, I remember being deeply impressed by the overall quality of the novel.

The book is set during the Civil War era in the rural midwest. Think Little House on the Prairie, but written for an older audience. Our narrator is a boy, Asa, and the story begins when his aunt Hazel comes to stay with his family on their farm. Hazel has been released from an asylum, and it becomes clear that she suffers from epilepsy and the memories of lost love and disappointments. She and Asa form a close bond. It's a relationship rarely seen in fiction — that of an aunt and her nephew, but it's a very beautiful rapport that the two share inThe Night Birds.

What happens next is intense and heartbreaking. It has to do with the Dakota indians and their last-ditch struggles to escape the stranglehold of the white men, which resulted in staggering violence and tragedy. I will not try to hide it from you; there is blood in The Night Birds. It's shocking, and hard to read, but what's important to remember is that the Dakota Conflict of 1862 is a real historical event, and it often gets overshadowed in the history books by the Civil War.

What Maltman does so well in The Night Birds, is he humanizes the people on either side of the conflict. We get to see the beauty of the Dokata lifestyle, how it is threatened, and their growing desperation that culminates in mass murder. We also understand the plight of the white pioneers, and their struggles. What Maltman doesn't provide us is relief from the reality of what happened. Because of this, The Night Birds is hard to read.

Huh. I'm not doing such a great job at selling this book, am I? Ah, well. Just trust me when I say that The Night Birds has transformative power. It's a beautiful piece of literature and an accomplishment of historical fiction. By God, read it.

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.

A Darker Shade of Magic | Review

As a huge fan of Schwab's Vicious, I was really expecting to enjoy A Darker Shade of Magic more.  This is not to say I didn't like the book — in fact, I thought it was very well-written.  Schwab is an excellent writer. However, I find myself thirsting for the sequel, for the further development of the characters and worlds, far more than I want to re-read the exploits of book one.

The novel begins with a long exposition and a lulled state of action.  We meet Kell, a young man and magician who possesses enough oomph to cross over into parallel worlds.  His stomping grounds are a number of different Londons, which he keeps straight by assigning them colors — red London, grey London, and white London.  (If this novel was ever made into a motion picture, I bet the art directors would have a heyday.)

Kell, with all his formidable powers, was adopted by the royals of red London as a child.  In his brother's, Prince Rye's, eyes, Kell is a part of the family.  Kell, however, feels like a possession.  This resentment causes Kell to lash out in a particularly treasonous way — by smuggling objects to and from different Londons.  His naughty habit is all going well until, one day, someone presses an unstable magical artifact from the fabled, forgotten, forbidden black London into Kell's hands.  In a world of trouble, Kell flees into grey London, where he runs into a wanted criminal by the name of Delilah Bard, who is quite eager to join in on Kell's misadventure, by force if necessary.

What bothered me about A Darker Shade of Magic was the unrealized potential of all of the characters. We only got to know three of them somewhat well — Kell, Lilah, and Rye — and I was still left wanting more detail, more motivations, more backstory, just more!  You'd think that with only three major characters, there would be plenty of room for their development.  However, most of the words of the novel were spent on a plot that I cared quite little about.  I hope that Schwab was just holding back, with books two and three in mind.

These frustrations should provoke me to give this book a lower rating than 3.5 stars, but I am quite eager to read book two.  I plan to withhold my judgement of the series until after I read 2016's A Gathering of Shadows. 

My Heart and Other Black Holes Review

Right now, novels about teen suicide are everywhere.  Just in the last few weeks, we've seen four high-profile ones — All the Bright Places, I Was Here, The Last Time We Say Goodbye, and My Heart and Other Black Holes.  I wasn't sure if I was up to reading another suicide book so soon after All the Bright Places, the ending of which really frustrated me, but Jasmine Warga's debut came in at my library, I sat down to browse the opening pages, and then I couldn't stop reading.  I read the whole thing at my library, while sitting in a horribly uncomfortable wooden chair.

This really speaks to the excellent flow of My Heart and Other Black Holes.  I haven't read through a book so smoothly in some time.

The general subject matter is nothing new under the sun, but Warga does focus on a concept I haven't come across before — suicide partners.  The idea of suicide partners is that by teaming up to plan and execute your suicide with another person, your chances of successfully killing yourself go up.

This is dire stuff, right?  It's so starkly bleak that I almost couldn't believe I was reading such dismal content in a book marketed towards young, impressionable readers.  It's not that I believe in censorship.  Just that I'm alarmed by the thought of depressed kids being sucked down even farther into despair by reading a high-profile, critically affirmed YA.

Thankfully, if troubled individuals read through the end of My Heart and Other Black Holes, they might actually be positively bolstered by the book's message — that severe depression, although it can seem utterly insurmountable, is something that can be fought against.

Overall, this positive message, along with the brisk pacing, compelling characters, and realistic depiction of major depression make My Heart and Other Black Holes an above-average read that I really enjoyed.

I give it four stars and recommend.

Half a King Review

Truth is, I had to battle with myself to get through Half a King.  Some of my most respected reviewers gave this book high praise, but there were long stretches during my reading where I was not feeling it.  However, I'd been seeing absolute raves over the second book in the Shattered Sea series — Half a World.  I resolved to work through Half a King, because forgoing its sequel seemed foolhardy.  As it turns out, Half a World was, indeed, so worth it.  I gobbled the book up and already have an itch to re-read it.  I'll get to that review in a bit.  For now, I'm going to parse out the strengths and weaknesses of Half a King.

The book has a single narrator — Yarvi, the younger son of the king of Gettland. Yarvi has a nasty attitude, which stems largely from his insecurities over his badly deformed left hand.  He's training to be a minister, a sort of jack-of-all-trades advisor to royalty, but the murder of his father and older brother forces him onto the throne.

At this point, I would have expected Yarvi to stumble through his first months of kinghood, making terrible blunders and chafing under his newfound responsibilities, but gradually getting his legs under him, and slowly winning the respect and admiration of his guard, his ministers, and his people, ultimately becoming a triumphant, if unorthodox king.

The book... does not go in this direction.  That is not to say that Half a King defies all well-worn plot lines.  But it does have an unexpected twist at the onset of the narrative that sends the book spinning into a more unexpected direction.  I won't get into the details, because spoilers!  But we do get to meet a great cast of characters and experience a number of diverse settings.

My main complaint with Half a King has to do with my dislike of our main character, Yarvi.  I've read enough reviews of the book to know that many readers disagree with me.  I totally understand where they're coming from.  I typically love a good underdog hero as well.  Yarvi, however, got on my nerves.  Abercrombie is fond of dirty realism, and lingers over Yarvi's human weaknesses — Yarvi shirks, whimpers, whines, and cries aplenty.  Abercrombie toes the line between making Yarvi realistic and making him a hero readers can get behind.  It's a thin edge, and I fell on the side of disliking the little bastard for his failures.

Fortunately, there were enough good elements in Half a King to distract me from my distaste for the protagonist.  The supporting cast was great.  Abercrombie, although a man, can write some seriously compelling female characters. (Thank you, Joe Abercrombie!)  There were great heroes and villains, as well, and even more in-between characters.  Near the end of the book, there is a totally unexpected and thrilling twist.  It was so much fun to read; my mouth hung open in delighted shock for a good while.

All in all, I can't see myself re-visiting Half a King, but I'm so glad I read it because of its sequel.  Half a World rests on all the world-building and plot set-up of its predecessor and far surpasses Half a King.  I can honestly say that I can't wait for Abercrombie's next installment.  Count me hooked.

Vicious Review

I am kicking myself for not having picked up Vicious sooner.  I knew it was well-received, but for some reason I thought the book would be boring.  I'm not sure why I got that impression, but I was wrong, wrong, WRONG! Vicious was a complete and total page-whipper!

The book opens with a man, Victor, and a young girl, Sydney, digging up a grave.  Quickly, we learn that this grisly task is all part of a mad scheme for revenge, years in the making.  Victor has just broken out of jail.  And he has one hell of a grudge against his old college roommate, Eli.

This decision to pit two former college roommates against each other is just inspired.  In my experience, your relationship with your college roommate is one of the most intense and bizarre relationships you ever have.  You're both "young adults," living in an oxymoronic state, under the influence of higher education, sleep deprivation, intoxication, and whatever the hell else you put into your system.  Your roommate becomes in turn, your friend, your ally, your enemy, your obsession, your nightmare. V. E. Schwab deftly captures all of these dynamics that bounce between Victor and Eli.

Eli and Victor's vortex of envy and murderous loathing begins ten years before the current events of the novel, when they choose their college thesis topics.  Victor chooses to study [spoiler]adrenaline.[/spoiler]  Eli chooses to research [spoiler]ExtraOrdinary abilities.[/spoiler]  The events that follow, during their spring semester of their senior year, are shocking.

Of course, Eli and Victor have back-up personnel to aid them.  Two talented sisters, Sydney and Serena, find themselves on separate sides of the vendetta.  And of course, Victor has his cell-mate and break-out buddy, Mitch.  And there's the dog, Dol.  All of these labels — hero, villain, sidekick, mascot — get tossed around and mixed up.  Who is who?

These characters were all fantastic.  I especially appreciated Victor.  He was a highly complex character, but Schwab still managed to keep him consistent.  I was at times, horrified by Victor's decisions, but somehow kept rooting for the man.  I loved hating the self-righteous Eli. Sydney and Serena were used as effective foils to Victor and Eli's twisted brotherhood.  I appreciated what it said about the nature of conflict that these two mirror-image sisters wound up on opposite sides of someone else's fight.  And Mitch was a steady column of normalcy and reason that balanced the other characters out. These were fabulous players in a fabulous plot.

The pacing was also a strong point in Schwab's novel.  The narrative flipped around in time, but this hardly phased me.  At first, I had a preference for the present events over the past, but very soon I was fully engaged in the entire story, past and present.  I was so absorbed in the book that at times I forgot that I was flipping paper pages and reading symbols made of dried ink.  I was inside the story.  What a  rare and wonderful experience!

So, in short, I HIGHLY recommend this book.  Five north stars out of five!

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.