Jack
A solid informational book, that doesn't pointlessly meander and act as an autobiography for the authors.
Also provides good evidence to support their claims.
My biggest criticism is that they say some things are 'controversial' but disprove them with such ease, that it doesn't make much sense that anyone would believe the other view. This somewhat makes it feel like the other interpretations haven't been given a fair representation, since it makes little sense that someone would believe them when they can be discarded with such ease.
Witton's artwork is gorgeous, and really acts to add some interesting visuals for the reader to enjoy.
This is a really solid book, and I'm glad to have it added to my collection of Gender Role Reversed books. It perhaps takes the crown as the best one. It's like it's made up of all the little pieces of the others, and blended them cohesively.
It has the Sci-Fi power dynamics of "The Power"; "Egalia's Daughters" satirical, yet draining, reversed society; Wen Spencer's fantastical whimsey and world-building. All these in a single novel. It's a heavy read, but it's easy to get invested. It even made me reconsider the complexities that Muslim women must experience when considering their own relationships with their family, society, and home.
The scenery and location is unique, painted expertly with vivid imagery, and the book even has a layered linguistic element. I feel it does a stronger job than Egalia's Daughters, by virtue of the story existing not solely for the point of social commentary. I still feel like Wood wanted to tell me a story of her own, and the social critique is a part of that greater whole.
The story is mostly character driven, so if you're partial to a plot driven novel, it likely won't be for you. It falls into the old tradition of Sci-Fi being used as a method of social critique and challenging norms, rather than as a mere aesthetic decision.
My only strong criticisms of this tale, is that the pacing sometimes feels odd due to the long time-span it covers, and that sometimes the protagonist feels a little bit too lucky in multiple occasions.
I'm pretty confident in saying this is the weakest in the trilogy, but it still holds up really well. The character development reaches a really satisfying conclusion, with a lot of loose ends being tied up in a neat bow.
The reason I think it's the weakest of the two, is really only a couple of things.
1. The dialogue feels very modern. This was somewhat the case for the other books, but this one I noticed it more in. I enjoy the way it provides commentary on our modern day politics, but I sometimes find it hard to see it in the context of the book, due to the language being used to describe certain things.
2. Luken begins to feel like a bit of a Gary Stu. It feels like some things fall into place without much work having to be done by him, or him being fortunate for some things coincidentally lining up. His revenge on Koko bothered me, because by making it retaliatory in the way that it was, it turns Luken into the good guy, when it could have been an interesting moral dilemma.
The world building becomes a little more background-ish, and I found it unsatisfying how little Jez was in the story.
This book is easily my favourite in the trilogy. It provides incredibly interesting/satisfying character development, and provides some seriously fantastic commentary on relationships and politics.
Luken following his tenure at Lady Dare's house is a changed man, and wants to take control back for himself. His increasing involvement in politics, and how it shapes his perception of the world around him is equally satisfying to watch.
This book was the first that's gotten me properly engaged in a while.
Of all the books I've read that dabble in Gender Role Reversal (GRR) dynamics, this easily has the most interesting take. Egalia's Daughters exists to be a satire of our current society, its story existing as a vehicle to make a point about the real world. A Brother's Price tells a traditional bodice-ripper tale, with the GRR being an interesting twist and set dressing, but it falls into the idea that it must justify itself via the women-outnumbering-men thing (not to say this isn't handled in a great way), which falls into the idea that society could only have formed in a patriarchal way. Veil of Sighs rejects this and provides a world fundamentally the same as our own, but society has simply formed to benefit women instead of men. It doesn't feel the need to weaken men physically, because their physical strength is nothing compared to the political power of the women.
The character development of Luken is incredibly satisfying to witness, and it doesn't stagnate at any point. The whole plot flows wonderfully and uses its 300 pages to its maximum potential to tell a compelling story that takes place over a long period, but perhaps could've used more pages for other things.
I only have a few complaints. I wasn't a fan of the occasional glimpses into the future when describing environs (“Luken would remember the sunset long into his later years,” etc.) because it kind of pulls you out of the moment. It reminds you you're reading fiction and that the whole story is on rails.
The descriptions feel crammed in occasionally when they could've been spaced out to feel less overwhelming. The initial introduction to The Abode is a good example. I would've liked more imagery altogether. Maybe this is a cultural thing, but I have no clue what an Ando is after reading this (and Googling it), and it makes me wonder if it would've been better to have just been a dress, because I couldn't imagine it as anything else.
From time to time, our third person stops narrating things from Luken's interpretation to give what feel like author notes, which sometimes feel a little self-gratifying. When Isuan remembers Luken's family but not his name, the narrator explicitly points this out, and it feels like Obern trying to prove how smart they are, which I'm not a fan of. It happens a few more times here and there, and I'd much rather these things be left to interpretation.
Finally, the world-building. I hope we'll see more of the world as we go, because this book was very confined to the sphere of nobility. The concepts that the book proposes are amazing, but I'd love to see how these gender roles are represented in the peasantry — we really don't get to see much of the lower classes, despite them being mentioned frequently enough.
A minor aside that had no bearing on the review: I'm unsure if August Books are a publisher or printer, so I'll say that if this didn't have an editor, the author did a great job working out a lot of typos, and I think it would be unreasonable to imagine it being any better for a one-person job. If there was an editor, then they did a poor job, and I hope Obern didn't pay too much for their services.
TL;DR: great book with some minor hiccoughs. Can't wait to read the next one!
I'd like to say a few things off the bat here–please, hold your applause until the end–I'm not in the target age demographic of this book, my upbringing is that of a white AMAB in Britain, and this is one of my first experiences reading a graphic novel.
This book was lovely, frankly. I wasn't entirely keen on the art style, and that's nothing to do with the artist, but my own subjective tastes for sure. It was just a really wholesome and uplifting story about a teenage girl taking control of her life, and rejecting the way her father tried to force her to be.
I think it was a great idea to remove Batman entirely, because it allowed Cassandra to be fully at the forefront, and enabled Barbara to be an independent agent/mentor. It stops them from being characters in the pretence of his orbit, to allowing them to simply be characters in their own right. Women who haven't been shaped by Batman, nor do they need to be. Barbara's injury wasn't a vehicle for the narrative to make Batman feel anything. It had nothing to do with him whatsoever.
I think having Cass have a connection to her cultural roots that her white father alienated her from in the form of Jackie is a really cool concept, and I hope it allows any biracial kids feel more represented in media. To an extent, a think a lot of neurodivergent kids will also be able to relate to Cass in this, which is also great.
The sequence where she is protecting the library is just really wholesome.
I think the way they covered Cass learning vocal language was a bit glossed over, but I assume this is a by-product of the issues presented by the medium. It was quite fast and sorta just happened, but in reality takes little away from what the story is trying to convey, so I don't think it's worth getting too bothered about.
Overall a neat graphic novel that brings issues that kids from particular underrepresented ethnicities face, and will hopefully help them feel less isolated with those problems.
Over the last year I've read a variety of matriarchal societies, and if this one has proved anything to me, it's that status quo of our world has worked it's was into them as well.
This book rejects the ideas that others of it's ilk present to make a matriarchy seem possible–a gender ratio where women outnumber men, a world where women are simply physically stronger, or a small island that it an exception to the rule–and truly rejects these ideas by asking, “Why isn't it possible?”. Patriarchy is so engrained into the bedrock of our societies, that even novels exploring the matriarchy bow down to it, acting like it's so impossible that things could've gone any differently then how they did in our current world.
In Egalia's Daughters, there is no physical difference in the world. Wim are naturally smaller then menwim, and menwim are naturally bigger then wim. So what? In our world, women are naturally as smart as men, and yet have only recently entered the work force after millennia of being excluded from it. It doesn't matter that menwim are stronger in Egalia, because society tells them that it's desirable for them to be weak, and to be attractive, and thus that becomes reality, as does it tell women of our own the same. Society is structured in such a way that the reality of biology is overshadowed by the authority figures gaslighting one to believe something else.
The feminist movement and many parts of the world have progressed since 1977, when this book was published, and yet it's clear how much work left still needs to be done. I'm sure so many issues referenced in this book, are still plenty prevalent, and I'm only blind to them due to my own privilege as an AMAB. Obviously some aspects are somewhat outdated. Judith Butler wouldn't be releasing her book on gender theory for a long while yet, and binary trans folk were much less common than today, so it has a very binary view of gender which ties gender expression into sexuality.
Although this book has fleeting moments of ironic humour, it is mostly a depressing affair. It contains rape, domestic abuse, homophobia, and sexism. I think in the lens of modern day feminism, where we are working towards not laughing at people for expressing themselves differently, an element of the humour and shock of “men dressing like women” has fallen away to anyone who knows how detrimental this can be to transgender people, and so the book has become even more serious. Although Ch. 1 ends with a very amusing line.
This would not be the book for it, but I would love to see one of these role reversed matriarchy stories more aimed to a young adult audience come out. Something that would be able to be in the curriculum so it could help young boys empathise with the reality that young girls have to contend with. I think it would've helped me to do so at a younger age at least. It might be able to reduce the amount of young Andrew Tate's we see online, and see less toxic masculinity among growing boys in general.
A phenomenal book as a whole, and the gold standard for matriarchal novels.
I've just come away from this book, and my mind has become a bit muddled.
Piranesi feels like it represents a lot of things, and yet due to my own inability to interpret them I feel as though I've come away with a very surface level understanding of the book. I intrinsically feel like it should be a 5/5 stars, but I hindered the experience of it with my inability to understand what it wanted to say. I feel like I've come away only experiencing half of it, and yet I'm struggling to find the other half. Of course I came up with my own interpretation, but having finished the book it feels lacklustre.
The book isn't as... abstract as it was made out to be by others. When I think ‘abstract', my go-to is Toni Morrison. Clarke's writing is beautiful, descriptive, and immersive. I'd be hard pressed to say abstract though. It's relatively linear and–somewhat to my dismay–epistolary in nature. I personally am not a fan of this style of writing, as I struggle to immerse myself into believing someone can recount a day's encounter so precisely.
I can't really imagine another way Piranesi could've learned the truth, but the scattered letters and immensely detailed index felt a bit contrived, dare I say. Maybe inelegant?
I came to this book knowing that it would explore matriarchal concepts, but it is so much richer as a text then that. It is about grief and mourning, about learning to see things from other people's perspectives, about choice and decisions and how they can effect your life, about growing up, about the power of the stories we pass down, about the importance of communication ,about what the truth is and the impact it can have and whether it should always be told...
That is not to say she did not pay attention in respect to the matriarchal elements; if anything her success is indicated in how encompassing yet invisible it remains, much like how patriarchy operates in modern society. The book does not focus primarily on the relationship between men and women, but on the relationships between Lisbeï and the people she encounters. It is first and foremost about her, and while men and their position in society do come up in her life, they are just another element in her life as she grows as a person–although she does interact with them more in certain parts of the book.
An impressive element of the book, is the translator's way of communicating Vonarburg's feminisation of the French language into English, a language free of grammatical gender. Words like “Visitors” becomes “Visitas”, or word order is changed from “Brothers and sisters” to “Sisters and brothers”. Much credit to Jane Brierley for such an elegant solution. Some words do remain completely unknown to me, and I'm unsure if that is because you just have to infer what it is even in the French version, or if it's a translation issue. On an unrelated note, please feel free to tell me what a ‘Pidge' is... Please also refrain from any Pokemon Go jokes.
The story-telling itself is slow, and deliberately tangential. This is not a plot driven story in which there are heroes, villains, and a journey to throw a ring into a volcano. It is the story of Lisbeï's life. The things that change her, what she learns, and who she ends up as a result. It was a slow read for me, and while tiring, was just so emotionally moving.
I'm unsure how popular this book is in French speaking countries, but I know that it is criminally underrated in English speaking ones. This book is long, and is difficult, but it is beautiful.
Holy roly poly in a scoop of guacamole. I'm not entirely sure what happened here.
This was probably my second favourite in the series, only losing to Siren Depths (It seems me and the GoodReads reviews are in agreement here). This story starts out solid, being a very succinct continuation to it's predecessor ‘Edge of Worlds', and then it begins it's decline...
One thing that feels like a boon to the book, is that Moon becomes one of many perspectives. He doesn't feel quite as focussed on–although that somewhat remains–and allows us a look at more parts of the world. It doesn't feel like it revolves around him as much. This book doing that, made me realise how much more that would've happened in the prior books.
There's this incredibly well done part, where following the chapter where we learn about the weapons ability to kill all the Raksura, we cut to Frost trying to be a grown up queen in the court, and having an important milestone reached by her attending her first meeting. It's both an adorable and heart-wrenching “think of the children” moment, and the juxtaposition was incredibly powerful. It is for that reason why I'm so confused as to why we didn't get more of those scenes! Instead just Moon vaguely thinking about “The Reaches”. More scenes of child Raksura just being children would've raised the stakes massively and increased our resentment for the villains even more.
I want to say before writing this, that there are plenty of positives however, having just left the Three Worlds, the negatives are more prevalent in my mind due to the ending.
One source of annoyance in this book, was the imagery. I don't know if it was me, but it felt much harder to imagine the locations here, because so many new spots were introduced in such rapid succession. I'd imagine this is to sell the “ticking time bomb” vibe that is trying to be conveyed–and that is done successfully–but it still leads to a much less textured reading experience than the other books.
The ending is where this all comes apart at the seams. What actually happened? 300 pages of this book are of the main plot line, and then the last 100 pages feel like an entire other book that was squished into the ending here. Song's death is barely even considered, and Root's grief is not even mentioned. Jade and Moon manage to sort out an emotional gap between them, that feels like it could be a drama saved for a 6th book, in about 4 pages.
Verdoin, this character we had so much time built up to as a truly deceptive and sociopathic arsehole, is suddenly just removed as the primary antagonist. Suddenly it's this random other Hian who we don't know or care about, and hardly has a personality–I don't even remember her name–and it just feels like a clumsy attempt to make an explanation on how the Raksura know how to disable the machine, and to tie up the end with a convenient bow by having a corroborating witness. It might honestly just be proof of a bit of failed planning, because even if Verdoin had stayed the villain, her willingness to use the machine that would've killed her wouldn't line up with her selfish personality.
On the topic of characters. These books just have too many to be impactful. Some characters benefit from being returning characters from other books, but generally if a new character is introduced as and occupies any role other than a main character, the legwork is just not put into making them into fleshed out beings that you can connect fully to. The cast is colossal, and books simply don't focus enough on them to make them feel like anything other than cannon fodder. Song's death is the most apt example of this for sure. When she died, I kinda just went, “Who?”
Wells pretty much never kills off her darlings, and it somewhat reduces the tension. This honestly felt like a book where some of our protagonists should've died. I think Stone would've been a logical choice, as an end of life sacrifice sorta thing.
Moon's children continue to just be sorta forgotten about, as in the last book, and it just makes you wonder how much he actually cares about them.
The Fell attack on the Reaches is just really convenient. It feels like a flimsy device to say why the others can't go off to try and help prevent the Hians and have to stay in the Reaches.
The Weapon is just not explained because Forerunners, I guess? It can just do what the plot demands of it at any given time. It has a real Deus Ex Machina (or Machina Ex Deus?) feeling to it.
Chime's transformation and new magic abilities, while able to be of actual use, are never explained. Still. I held off complaining about this in all the other reviews, but even in this finale, it isn't even addressed. At all.
The Half-Fell Queen and her flight don't even get close to a good enough exploration. Their moral implications are barely looked into, and their relationship with the Raksura remains essentially stagnant throughout. It feels like absolutely wasted potential if you ask me. Kethel and Moon sorta get to have a rudimentary alliance, but it barely goes beyond that.
I think the series was worth reading, and it's still firmly in my favourites I've read, accounting for all it's issues, just for the sheer uniqueness and fun quality it has. I don't think this ending spoiled it entirely. If nothing else, the first 3 books definitely work as their own thing, and you could probably get away with pretending these 2 didn't happen if you really disliked them that much.
The feeling I get from this book is 1 of 2 things happened:
1. The publishers told Wells it needed to be shorter, or maybe they weren't willing to take another book deal because the others hadn't sold quite as well, so she had to condense what was going to be another trilogy into a duology.
2. Wells grew fed up with writing about the Three Worlds after almost a decade, and just decided she wanted to hurry up and finish, without leaving fans on too much of a cliff-hanger. Perhaps writing such a long book after the relatively shorter lengths of the others left her drained and fed up with the universe as a whole.
I have no evidence for either of these, but it's the only way I can come up with a reason for what happened with this ending, because the other 4 books have proven Martha Wells is able to write a compelling and decently paced story, even if the characters themselves could do with a little fleshing out and work. I'd say the plot tends to be the most solid part of Wells writing most of the time, actually. It baffles me that it struggles so much here.
This is only getting 3/5 instead of 2/5 because it still managed to keep me hooked enough to finish in 3 days. That's an achievement.
How did I find thi- it was gender role reversal themes again. What can I say, I'm a sucker for it!
This story takes place in an ill defined medieval/early-industrial wild west setting, that was just super fun to read about.
Some people have cited this as being a comedy. I wouldn't entirely agree, unless you're the type of arse who loves laughing at gender non-conformity. In a meta sense, it's definitely got satirical elements in it.
It makes use of tropes that are native to the classic romance genre, and I'm sure you could probably draw some lines connecting it to Charlotte Bronte books, or some other 19th century romance author. What makes these fun, is that they are very clearly leaned into.
The world building is pretty stellar, coming up with a social hierarchy that differs from our own, in a unique way that feels immersive and well thought out. It honestly leaves me wishing to read more of this world.
Gender roles are definitely the prevalent idea in this book, compared to something like The Cloud Roads, as our character is raised within this society, and is thus constrained by it's rules.
There was a very solid balance between character focus and plot focus, with the plot being quite engaging too.
I think it was a fun, somewhat campy read, and for that it was enjoyable. It didn't give me some paradigm shift, but it's too fun not to give a chance in my opinion. My only complaint was that it wasn't longer!
I want it to be known, right off the bat, that this is being reviewed, in relation to the other books. As of writing this, I've just completed the fourth book in the main series.
My reflection is that this is probably the weakest book in the series, and the reason for that is likely more to do with my own preferences. I enjoy books driven a bit by the plot, and a bit more by the characters. A fairly even balance. This book is mostly just a plot story, and doesn't focus as much on the interesting cast of characters.
It really underdelivered, because the first book takes it's time to characterise Moon, and learn about him, in fact I'd argue the first 1/3 of the book is dedicated to that. The book then ends with a lot of action, and plot heavy stuff, meaning it would've been great for this one to focus on Moon starting to learn more the people in his new home in this one.
Instead, this book had them on a fetch quest–miles from home–with a kinda stereotypical villain that just wasn't that interesting, and a lack of meaningful conversation with the group Moon is with. It all made for a bit of a dull reading experience.
I sorta agree with people who say Wells' greatest part is her worldbuilding, because as interesting as the Raksura as a people are, a lot of the characters themselves can be really surface level, not particularly memorable, and the plots can border on cookie-cutter.
That doesn't change this being my favourite fantasy series, but that's because a lot of these flaws in the others are mitigated by each book having few of them... This one just displays more of them than the others. It also helps that other fantasy books aren't really competing, because most books in the genre follow a set of predetermined plots and tropes. This one is still far more original, even if not by plot.
Realistically, this would be a 2.5/5, but GoodReads uses a 5 Star Integer system, and I don't think this warrants a 2/5 on the stats page.
Contains spoilers
How Bram Stoker presumably looked at this book and thought to himself:
“What if I wrote something like this, but I made it boring, long, and shite.” Is a confounding question that may never be answered.
Camilla recognises both the interesting nature of the vampire, and the simple story it's using to tell you of the creature. It doesn't spend pages and pages arduously explaining pointless details, and it recognises that to keep an air of mystery, you don't make your reader know everything about the villain in the first four chapters!
I wouldn't say this book is outstanding or anything, but it's a really enjoyable read, and it keeps an air of mystery going even when you're aware of what ‘Carmilla' is.
The fact that this has lower stars than Dracula is genuinely shocking.
Edit: After my most recent re-read, I've had to bring this down to a 3½. While I still adore this book, the ending is seriously anti-climactic and a bit of an exposition dump. A shame, but the book is still worth reading.
Just an FYI that this is being rated in relation to the other books in the series. As of the writing of this review, I've just completed Book 4.
This is easily my favourite in the series so far, and better than the others in my opinion. The plot is far more character-centric than the prior book, which is so much more satisfying, and the conflict is far better. A lot of the characterisation is focussed on Moon's own internal conflict, and there's a bit of the miscommunication trope thrown in there too.
It somewhat treads familiar ground in terms of premise–Book 1 has Moon finding his species, Book 3 has him finding his family instead–which could be seen as dull, but I think it produces a lot of the good parts of Book 1 and more, because whereas Moon had nothing to go back to in the first book, in this one he does.
We also get to see some moral questions risen. They aren't particularly advanced, and they are kinda immediately answered, because it turns out that Fell/Raksura children crossed, are basically just Raksura if raised by them, but it's nice to see the attempt, and it provides a scene with some added tension for a bit.
The ‘Ancient Ancestors' (non-Nazi version) is present in this, which is alright. Wells does a good job of getting you engrossed in the story so you don't question some parts of the internal consistency of the world. The creature they find, feels a lit like a wrong coloured Lego piece in a set. It feels somewhat out of place, and I guess that works since the characters don't know what it is either, but the way it gets dealt with feels kind of lazy.
Something fun about this book, is Moon has to grapple with his position in this new society he now lives in. Being treated like a piece on someone's chess board to be moved around as pleased, because he's a Consort. Being confined by the restrictions this civilisation places on him after a life alone and fully in control. That's what drove me to the series in the first place. It is also dealt with in Book 1 as well, but disappears in the second.
I think something that feels like a theme, is Wells uses a bit of the dreaded, ‘Tell don't show' technique. It is heavily implied in conversation that Moon will be viewed as delicate, expected to behave a certain way, and confined; in practice it doesn't really come across that way. He's free to go into fights, there's no scenes where the queens are especially protective of him or Shade. It's a pitfall that begins more with the choice in narrative voice. It feels similar to Moon's relationship with his adopted clutch. We're told that he cares deeply for them, and we are somewhat shown this. But while Moon has a few fleeting thoughts about them while away from home, he hardly considers them when in peril, and doesn't fight that hard to stay with them in the first place.
Overall it's a fun book, and I still recommend it.
I absolutely ploughed through this book, and it was a wonderful time.
The world-building is well done and unique. Our protagonist isn't a human, and his species operates in such a different way that it feels wonderful to explore their culture.
The plot isn't staggeringly different, the romance is a bit quick for my taste, and the imagery can feel a little lacklustre at times, but what a fun read it was regardless.
One of the main draws that got me, was the book exploring alternative gender roles. It's not only refreshing to see a world where patriarchy is not assumed to be the natural norm, but where this matriarchal society is still nuanced and unique, alongside its caste system. Most importantly, it doesn't feel made for the male gaze!
Amazing experience, totally recommend.
What an amazing piece of literature. This was my second Toni Morrison book, following ‘Jazz'. That was an alright book, although because I had to read it in a short time period, I think it sullied the experience. I was drawn to Beloved, because of its status as a ghost story, and it is that and more.
It's not just a literal ghost, but the ghosts of the past in the character's lives. It's dismal, it's hopeful, and it's captivating!
This is definitely a book you need to pay attention to reading, because so much can slip past you in just a page. Some of the most horrific scenes came not from any haunting, but the treatment of African Americans by slave owners, and how badly that scarred them in their later lives.
I'd also say this is the book that has finally given me the confidence to not immediately assume my reading was wrong. If I'd Googled the meaning of everything that seemed symbolic or ambiguous, I wouldn't have finished the book at all! After only a bit, I stopped, and realised just how much fun it was to let your mind try and understand!
The prose is just gorgeous, and while it can seem hard to grasp at first, you've just got to trust the process, and know that you'll understand what's happening by the end.
Amazing book by an amazing author. 10/10, you should read if your name is Eli or something like that. Like you should hurry it up and just do it, it's just THAT good.
This was one of the most difficult books I've had to read through in a bit, especially in the middle. I think it hit me in some particularly personal spots, that made me relate to the protagonist quite heavily.
Before I get in fully though, I need to make this clear: This book contains racism, as in the protagonist is racist. On a few occasions slurs are used, and in one scenario she makes some terrible remarks about a black man. However, I did see a post about how this fact made it not worth reading, and I have to disagree. This book does an incredible job at portraying mental health issues, and a tantalising look into the life of a woman dealing with societal expectations of the 60s, many of which still exist today.
The book feels not dissimilar to ‘The Yellow Wallpaper' as they both portray a woman's descent into madness, caused as a product of misogynistic societal expectations of femininity and perfection.
It reminded me a little of Toni Morrison's works, in the way it is written. I honestly couldn't describe quite how they are, but I'd hazard a guess it's due to the poetic reliance on metaphors to describe the external and internal environment of the speaker alike.
I think the character also feels very real. Esther Greenwood is often unlikable, and in very relatable ways for most people. She is judgemental, cruel, and hypocritical. She is also overwhelmed by people's expectations of her–many of which she has no desire to fit–, looking for a reason for why she feels the way she does, never truly completed her journey with grief, and has to deal with constant misogyny that reduces her down to her biology. For these reasons, she feels extremely complicated, and it makes her much easier to empathise with.
I have to say, the lack of annotated versions of this book, or even ones with a simple introduction is a travesty. Plath's life deserves to be acknowledged at the start of this work, because it is incredibly useful context for the book. You can enjoy it just fine without having read it before hand, just as I did, but it adds new layers to what you're reading when you have that awareness.
This book's impact on you, depends greatly on what kind of person you are. It was a real challenge for me to get through, but I've also seen some people in recovery from depression say that it helped them feel less alone. I think this is best saved for when you are feeling decent, but I think this book will probably resonate strongest with women, and the depressed.
I've had a few days to gestate and binge the TV adaption, and I feel like I've sorted my thoughts about this book out. I really really enjoyed it, and if I were feeling particularly generic, I'd say I “devoured” it. It might be one of my favourites. That said, The Power isn't without it's flaws.
The characters aren't massively fleshed out, which makes sense due to the many time skips and how large they are. It would be impossible to bulk out a fully developed character with that amount of segmentation. Our protagonists are pivotal to the changes happening in this new world, holding financial, political, or ideological power–one character slowly gets less and less power, which is an interesting dichotomy–and it sometimes feels like that takes precedence over their own stories. Of course, the central narrative that Alderman has created here, more than makes up for this.
Something that makes this book stand out is how unique it is. Very rarely do you see a world where women gain a foothold into power through force. Well, rare in the sense that I want to see one's that aren't sexual fantasies and instead actually provide interesting questions about society. When they do exist, often they are set on an island as an anomaly in a world where patriarchy is still the norm everywhere else. It's interesting to have a book that entirely uproots that trend and says, “Fuck it, let's switch the world around.” I think a lot can be gained from books that do these types of societal switches–especially for men–because it can be a wonderful slap in the face about the sort of modern world that women have to traverse. It can force empathy in place of where sympathy might rear it's head.
This book does fall horrendously short on intersectional issues, I have to say. Race isn't discussed despite having multiple protagonists-of-colour (one who literally hails from the southern states), and it's portrayals of the Muslim countries it takes place in can be seen as 2D.
I also think the length is something to be sad about. Alderman had a great concept, and it feels she never gave it all the time it deserved. It honestly could've been a series, or at least a longer book, but the author knows themself best, so I'll put my trust in her that she was correct to stop when she did.
Regardless of my gripes, I had a whale of a time reading this one. It was interesting and engaging to read, while not being too difficult either. I'd say you're missing out if you don't give it a shot. Got my copy for £2 second hand, so off you pop!
I really wanted to enjoy this book, for what I'd assume are obvious reasons. I think my choosing this book, was an unfortunate case of genre confusion. I really haven't been reading recreationally for a long while, and the book that got me back into it, was The Woman In Black. I came to Dracula looking for something similar, which was foolish and naïve, but alas I have earned the right to review this after slogging through it. TWiB is both modern and more of a Victorian Haunt, a specific subgenre of ‘Gothic Horror'.
Dracula isn't horror. It's sad, it's intense, and complex, but it isn't scary. That feels like an oversight for a horror novel. I'm yet to read more classic horror books than this, but I will be soon so this rating might be subject to change.
My main issue with this book are: It's so damn long, for no reason. The characters are actually just stupid at certain points, much like modern slashers. Van Helsing exists (more about that in a bit). Dracula appears in maybe 1/5 of the book, and he is also a hard sell as a threat considering he's also an idiot. It's essentially a soap drama, fuck for the amount of time we spend with Seward it could be the 1800s version of Grey's Anatomy, runtime and all!
These are mostly personal gripes with it, but I don't care it's my review.
The characters say so much, and yet so little. On one of my final sessions with this book, I was determined to finish it, so I opened it and got reading on the train with SOMEONE NEXT TO ME, and I hated Van Helsing so fucking much I sighed out loud and leaned against the window before continuing. You can guarantee the moment that knob opens his mouth, you're gonna lose 3 pages to him expositing, and proclaiming friendship to someone he's just met.
Surely this should be a 1/5 for me then. But it did have redeeming qualities. It's the only book I've read that made me so enthused to read it's implications on literature, society and more. It posits interesting questions about misogyny and the books own relationship with feminism. “Rethinking the New Woman in Dracula” was an awesome essay to read, and I recommend it. It's a very fresh perspective on the book, although I'm not entirely convinced by it's point. The imagery, although damaging the pace, is very well done and makes it easy to picture the environments.
Most of the characters invoke a feeling of connection eventually, which must be inevitable over the course of over 100,000 words. Genuine distress started to be invoked in me when _ got bit and the clock started ticking, although this flow was hindered by Van Helsing. Harker's journal at the beginning was phenomenal, if not a little misleading, truly mastering a gothic environment.
The crem da la crem however, was Chapter 7 and the Captain's log. It was fucking phenomenal. Seriously. It could be considered a short story of itself, and I think even if you don't want to read the whole book, you should definitely read this part in isolation.
This has just kinda been sat on my read for awhile, and it feels like a book that certainly deserves a review. Objectively, this book conveys the emotions it wants to convey.
But my interpretation of the book was quite different from a lot of other people's apparently. This book seeks to convey “Love” and “Hope”. That even in the most horrific situations, love can prevail. However, that was not what I saw.
I don't believe The Man showed much love at all (maybe I should say selfless love?), because the single most loving thing he could've done for The Boy, was the one thing he didn't do. Kill him. Even when he knows he's going to die, and leaving his child woefully unprepared for the world around him, he doesn't do it.
I don't blame The Man for not doing this, and it just adds to the complexity of the story in my opinion. Just because I can sit here and say what he should've done, by no means is saying that I'd have the courage to do it either.
Perhaps this is what made the ending a bit of a stinker for me. I think it should've been left ambiguous. It felt like the happy ending–relatively speaking–was justification for The Man's (perhaps even McCarthy, hypothetically) actions. It's what made this a 3/5 and not a 4/5. In a world so overwhelmingly filled with misery, it's such a sudden turn into left field, that it belonged in Zoolander.
Yet somehow, one of the other issues I had was just how comedically horrible everything was. It was hard to believe that the world was over to this extent at some points. Like, logistically the woman having a child and then eating said child, is so non-sensical in a world where The Man and his child can't get enough food for themselves. Do you know how much a person needs to eat during a pregnancy? What happens if they don't eat enough. That just felt like it was in there for shock value, and seriously underestimates how difficult pregnancy is for a person. Sometimes this felt less like, “The Road” and more like “The Man and the No Good Very Bad Day”.
I will tell you, this was the single most harrowing reading experience of my life. It was extremely dismal. The grammar, the lack of names, the unapologetic violence both sexual and not. It really did take a toll in a way no book I've read before this has, and for that, this book accomplished it's goal, regardless of my petty gripes with it. For that, it has my respect.
This little novella is a really heart-breaking read, both because you feel terrible for the narrator (Gregor Samsa) and the author, of whom it reflects upon. It really hones in on themes of abandonment and abuse. I was almost crying at the end, because when you take yourself out of the story, it truly exposes something of how Kafka sees himself. The book can be a bit of a challenging read if you're used to modern prose, making it rewarding to finish. The story doesn't overstay it's welcome; by staying novella sized, you experience everything the story has to offer, and nothing more nor less.
One thing that is quite controversial about this translation, is that it specifies the creature that Gregor turns into is specified. My surface level research finds that this is somewhat taboo, as the German version seems to be deliberately vague, with the best translation of the original word being a very ambiguous usage of the term “Vermin,” so as to let your imagination do the rest of the work.
If you want the most authentic Kafka experience in English, perhaps this translation is not the one. If you just want to read something that is accessible and gives you the story, then this is highly recommended.
It should also be said that I got my edition as part of the Penguin Cloth Bound Classics collection, so if you're into that sort of stuff, or you like hardbacks, that's an option.
Extremely impressive book, with a very dark undertone. Orwell has a great way of conveying complex concepts and strong imagery in a very easy-to-understand and digestible way. This is an impressive feat for mid-20th century literature. It has a few segments that can be a real slog – looking at you Part 2: Chapter 9 – to get through, but overall it's a believable, engrossing, and bleak view from the perspective of a citizen in a dystopian society. If you want an entry point to begin with more classic works of literature, Orwell is probably a good bet due to his simple style of language and structure. Only took me 7 days to get through, with a negligible amount of breaks, due to the story being so investing. It's a bit of a slow burner however, the first ‘Part' definitely has the least amount of things going on, but it sets up the story well. Don't let it trick you into thinking it'll be boring.
It is a shame that it's been slightly co-opted by Right Wingers, who equate being told that they shouldn't say the N word, or that it's unpleasant to misgender someone, to a restriction on their free speech and not just people around them trying to behave like decent people?
I wouldn't recommend this if you struggle from depression, and it falls miles short in respect to feminist concepts being applied to female characters.
With a name like ‘Legends and Lattes', you'd expect yourself to be in for a treat. You'd expect a somewhat unique–ignoring the fact that Coffeeshop AUs have existed for years on Ao3–, emotionally investing tale, with a cool setting. That is not what you get.
The emotion this book put on me the most, in all honesty, was boredom. Every conflict that emerged was resolved within the same (very short) chapter, or one after. No tension was ever able to arise. While I understand that this book says “low stakes” on the front cover, that is not interchangeable with “no stakes”. When writing a story, there HAS to be conflict, because that's what makes a novel, a novel. Not even “the end of the world” sort of thing, just “I want to ask them out” is good enough a lot of the time. There's an entire genre based on that one actually. As long as the character cares. The conflict is this occasional threat of having to pay the mafia money, but they are never threatening, and our protagonist never seems that concerned. It's dull, and it just sorta pops it's head in as a caveat sentence every couple of chapters just as a reminder that nobody cares about.
The “fantasy” setting this takes place in, is as bland and flavourless as the story. This book might as well take place in a void, considering I never got even the slightest idea of what the city looked like in my head. Coffeeshop only, apparently. Everything felt so modern, it wasn't hard to forget it was in a fantasy setting.
For all the positive reviews saying about the tactility of the descriptions, how they could “practically taste the _____”, I'd like to posit that it is not an amazing author doing that, but what we would call your memory. I'm not a frequent customer of such establishments–which I think makes me a pretty good referee for the actual efficiency of the descriptions–, and the descriptions were far too vague to incite any sensory response whatsoever.
The writing literally has Deus Ex Machina written as a, nay, THE plot device. It just feels like one of those, “If I'm self-aware about it, maybe it won't be bad writing.”
The biggest issue this book has, is it wants to simultaneously cover the building of a successful local business, while having meaningful character connections in a single 300 page story. Can you see the issue? It takes a while to build a business, and so the product is a lot of chapters giving us summaries of what's happened in a week, skipping vast amount of time, while we just kinda have to assume that the Viv and Tanri are getting closer. Even though we are never shown it. To put it simply, it tells and doesn't show. The final product is a book with 2D characters. I genuinely think it could've worked if the shop development occurred over a trilogy of books, all with their own plot conflicts. Book 1: Mafia shiz, Book 2: Tandi stalker thing, Book 3: Viv's old party member. It'd give time to connect with the characters, and to build a connection to a fake coffeeshop as we see it develop.
The only redeeming factor is the dialogue feels very solid and fluid in it's delivery, even if what's being said beggars belief. It shocks me that a narrator–a person whose job it is to read books for a living–was unable to pick up the foundations of a good story.
L&L is mind-numbing, fast-food reading. It will inspire no thought in you, and feels very much like it owes it's success to the fact that the world right now is shite, and people desperately want to escape into a book to avoid it. I agree. I wanna do that too, but I urge anyone else who plans to do it: Do it with a semi-decent book at least.
I think the ‘Slice of Life' genre will continue to struggle in literature as a medium, because I truly believe that just as some types of stories lend themselves better to a novel, some also lend themselves to other mediums. In this case, TV Shows. TV Shows have a lot more time, while being able to convey information faster, and having the emotional bonus of music to invoke feeling. The perfect spot for a cozy slice of life.
This book was bad. Don't read it.
I don't mind reading a YouTuber book, when it's clearly been made out of passion. Reading through this book was an absolute blast, and delivered pretty well on the horror aspects, even when they aren't really my preferred type of horror. I'm less gore, more haunt kinda reader. All for the screeching violins, less for the squelchy noises. I was able to get past this however, because thematically these stories were right up my alley.
I personally think one thing to make note of, is it definitely feels like it's written by a poet. I've never read a poem by Heath, but the stories she's written are so rife with allegory, it's a joy to puzzle through them regardless of how challenging they are or aren't. It made me get out a whole ass pen to write out my thoughts, so that should be an indication of my engagement. Not all of the stories were subtle, with ones like We Understand Each Other Perfectly and Little Blue Sticky Notes wearing their hearts pretty openly on their sleeves. Others were more puzzling; even if it wasn't my favourite, I'd say Baby left me with the most amounts of conflicting interpretations. I'm still trying to figure it out!
The titular story was overall pretty great, but easily my top one was A Mother's Love, which made such good use of metanarrative story telling. The way Jones subjects the play to his male gaze, while missing the hopeful themes of a loving relationship overcoming familial intolerance was very disturbing, and simultaneously misgendering and making sexist remarks about the protagonist was extra ick to the pile that is the massive amounts of transphobia from the protagonists mum.
(TIL: Ick is in the dictionary, and isn't red squiggled... Wild.)
Chloe.Claire1 was a pretty impactful story, especially following the events of 2020-2021. I think it does a good job of reflecting one of the big societal anxieties arising among internet users: that of the existence of the para-social relationship. I'm a little conflicted on the ending, and teetering on whether I think it kinda villainises mental illness, but on the flip-side, I think it's important to acknowledge that things like what happen in the story do happen, unfortunate as is. I do think the story had the potential to say something more about the effect a para-social relationship can have on a creator personally, rather than the just vague badness of them the story chooses to focus on instead.
Now that I've gushed about it, time for the actual critique. First the actual product that is the physical book, then the writing.
I don't think it's great. I'm not going to speak about this for too long, because I'm not a typesetter, but the formatting does a massive disservice to this book. If Heath becomes big one day, I hope she'll do a re-release with a decent typesetter. This book deserves that much at least. The few typos I caught didn't do anything to make sentences non-sensical, but they were unfortunate.
As for the writing? The stories were great, and the subtext was super interesting, but my life were the descriptions lacking. Not a lot of the stories facilitate descriptions, but the ones that should–Managing, in particular–just didn't give enough. Such focus was there on telling the story, that in some cases the journey itself was neglected. The locations felt flat and lacked tactility, with many of the senses being neglected in setting the atmosphere; this is one of the negatives of it feeling like it was written by a poet. The dialogue felt like it could've been paced out more, and some time could've been taken to build up more of a mood between lines. I feel like if those descriptions were added, it could've been a release of it's own.
All in all, it was a great–if somewhat flawed in presentation–trans perspective in queer literature, and a great addition to my bookshelf for a rainy day!