Bronwyn Knox
This is the season for haunted house stories. The Good House has a lot going for it: an interesting family saga, lots of scary scenes, and a strong female lead character.
Focused on Angela Toussaint, her teenage son, and her grandmother the story moves around in time as well as point of view. The essential conflict began with Angela's grandmother, who was quite powerful in dealing with the spirit world, but as these things often go, she pissed off the wrong entity. This creates a kind of inherited bad luck for her progeny. Later, Angela's son Corey manages to stir things up when he finds clues to grandmother's powers in the Good House.
I liked the parts with Corey and his friend Sean the best. I'm a middle-aged mother of a teenager myself, and I supposed I should have identified with Angela, but she seemed a little “out of my league.” Intelligent, sexy, athletic, the center of a love triangle with two successful men in love with her, a stellar career, heiress to a beautiful property, and best friends with a rising movie starlet, she is highly glamorous! To add a dose of family drama, she was estranged from her husband and had a tense relationship with her son. The story felt a bit soapy at times; I do love a good soap opera.
The ending's magical do-over felt like a fairy tale more than horror. I'm used to the notions of sacrifices being made at the end of a horror story. I'm uncertain as to whether or not Angela remembers anything that happened and this kind of takes away from the notion of growth as a person she might have experienced. I can see that the author loved her characters and wanted to see them happy.
Due is a good storyteller. I liked the characters and the way Due would give out the backstory information only at the most relevant moment. I would have liked to have known a bit more about Dominique, Angela's mother. I think that might have added a missing layer of depth to the story.
Carey is such a good storyteller. This was an absolute page-turner, especially in the last half.
This could almost have been one of his Felix Castor stories, but I'm glad it wasn't. I loved that most of the main characters were women, and especially women doing bad things, my favorite genre.
I was intrigued by the spirituality theory expressed in the book which seems to be that dreams and the world of the dead are very close.
It's not as unique as The Girl with All the Gifts. A lot of the story used prison and drug addict clichés that I've seen in other media. Also, some of the characters were unrealistically stupid and self-serving in order to build tension. (Or maybe I just have too much faith in humanity.) These minor criticisms didn't diminish my enjoyment of the book.
This is a story about the psychological and issues of dealing with the dead coming back, centering on three different families who recently lost a loved one and are in different stages of the grieving process.
It is a “came back wrong” type of story in which the dead create a phenomenon where the living can hear each other's thoughts in their presence. Having no emotions of their own, the dead act as a channel, taking on the emotions of any living people near them.
As far as horror content, this is more about emotions and relationships rather than action, conflict, or visceral thrills. There are some disturbing moments and gore but mostly I found this book to be strange and sad as opposed to scary.
I like that there is no reason given for the beginning or abrupt end of the happening. It is about the effects not the cause. It's an interesting read that I'm not entirely sure I've fully wrapped my head around yet. The three storylines dwindle away rather than coming to a sharp point, reminiscent of “not with a bang but a whimper.”
This has remained a consistently entertaining series for me. I love how real Peter Grant and many of the other characters feel for me, as well as the realistic blending of police procedural with the magic and fantasy element. I also like the way that Grant is the narrator but he's not the most powerful and important character. The author has left him plenty of room to grow. The tidbits about London architecture and history are a nice bonus.
This one in particular was a bit distracting for me because of some repetitive scenes. Not once, but three times Grant is involved in major action scenes in combat with Chorley. It starts to feel like filler after two in my opinion. It is also a bit anticlimactic that Nightingale wasn't involved in Chorley's death. Unless of course he's not really dead. Always a possibility in this type of series.I also found Grant's kidnapping to be pointless. It introduces Foxglove, but otherwise took up a lot of time that I assumed was going to have a payoff in the overall plot. So far it didn't but again, this is a series so maybe the reason for it will be coming down the line.
That is unusual for this series though. Despite the ongoing Faceless Man/Leslie May thread, most of the time a story completely wraps up in each book. That's one of things I like about this series.
Cool premise: filmmaking and horror/occult from the writer of Mexican Gothic. She seems to have researched the films and filmmaking elements very well. I also liked that it was set in Mexico City, an urban area with different cultural and pop culture references than my own. The story itself had some potential, could make a fun movie perhaps. It is similar to a Friday the 13th (television series about the antique shop, not the films) episode.
Despite the potential, it didn't hold my interest. It's a short book but there is so much telling rather than showing and repeating information. The author gave us the main character's specific thoughts and feelings all the time instead of letting the reader figure out what the characters are experiencing based on behavior. This tends to flatten out rather than add depth to characters.
Without the repeated information, the reader could piece things together from what they read. She either doesn't trust the reader to figure things out or is in need of an editor. I got impatient and skimmed a lot while reading.
The chapters where the conflict starts to heat up were more entertaining. Ye1, it is difficult to have a menacing villain when he's already dead. Yes, I know, Voldemort, but in Silver Nitrate, it is not as effective. His two grande dame co-conspirators were slightly scarier. I did like the inky dogs.
Thus begins my horror novel marathon for 2023. I hope they get better.
Very enjoyable to read, though not as tightly structured as It Devours, the next book in the series.
The writing style, combining poetry, philosophy, and humor in the narrative is the standout element. The characters are also very engaging and relatable. I cared about Diane in particular, as I am currently a mother of a teenager and thought the authors really nailed all the emotions and the struggles.
The plot itself meandered quite a bit in the middle. Lots of time spent for the protagonists getting nowhere and having fruitless conversations. That was frustrating. Then, towards the end, it got good. So good that I was chilled to the bone at one point and to shake myself back to reality!
The thing I wonder about is how interesting this book is to those that didn't listen to the podcast. For me, the podcast was an acquired taste. The satire wore thin, in the sense that I got the point of it, however clever it was, and I needed the plot to pick up and attachment to characters to develop in order to remain interested.
The storyline in the novel is entirely discrete from the podcast. You don't “need” it to follow along. The characters featured here are background citizens of the town relative to the podcast. The novel does a pretty good job of conveying the weird, X-files-y town, with the expected absurd humor and surreal imagery. However, some of the things referred to might be more fun for those who are already familiar with Night Vale.
If you haven't listened to the podcast, but you are up for something offbeat and different, this is certainly worth a try and maybe a good introduction if you're curious about the overall series.
All you need is cash.
The original Island of Doctor Moreau (Wells, 1896) book that Moreno-Garcia is borrowing characters and concept from had a title character that was playing God, torturing sentient creatures, and traumatizing the entire cast of characters in the book.
Here, Doctor Moreau is doing the same thing but rather than testing the bounds of science and technology, he just needs money. The central plan is to sell Moreau's creations to the evil capitalist pig Lizaldes so they can use them for slave labor.
When that isn't efficient enough, Moreau decides to sell his hot daughter's hand in marriage to the Lizaldes, just to ensure his financial future.
This cheapens the existential horror potential of the novel. The creatures are reduced to a commodity instead of allowing us to be frightened for, or of them. The author wants them to represent the downtrodden but she doesn't go very deep. Moreno-Garcia did a better job of bringing out the terror of genetic weirdness and the patriarchal oppression angle in Mexican Gothic.
There's no need to take this seriously, however. This is just a shallow and fast-moving book that is mostly a love triangle with some feminist messaging.
Carlota, the title character, goes from obedient daughter and property to liberated superhero in one absurd and melodramatic moment. None of the characters or relationships are developed enough for me to invest in most of the storyline.
My favorite part of the book was the last few chapters, in which the conflict and action heat up and becomes a bit more of a page-turner.
There is not a lot of science fiction in this one.
Loosely connected short stories that wrap around or are “nested.” (Matryoshka dolls are specifically called out in one of the stories.)
Some of them are more fun to read than others; “Letters from Zedelghem,” “Half-Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery,” and “The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish” were the most entertaining. The first one because of the self delusional and self-destructive nature of the character and the other two because they were just great stories in their own way. The central story, “Sloosha's Crossin' an' Evrythin' After,' ‘ was a challenge because of the dialect.
Mitchell is certainly talented. He wrote each story in their respective style and voice convincingly.
If you're really into books where a fancy, non-traditional structure is used, I can recommend The Islanders by Christopher Priest, Gnomon by Nick Harkaway, and 4-3-2-1 by Paul Auster.
The last section, “The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing,” got a little preachy at the end when Adam wrote out the message in his journal, basically that humans have to believe we can rise above the predatory and selfish. If you'd been reading the book this far, you probably already got that point as it is present in some way or other in each story with varying degrees of subtlety.
Very long version of the King Arthur tale, made up of four books that were originally published separately and then revised and put into this volume.
The first book, The Sword in the Stone, was the most enjoyable as it had humorous moments and a fun take on Merlin who knows the future because he's traveling backward through time.
Merlin gets my favorite quote from the book:
“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. “
White makes you aware throughout the book that he's telling a story and frequently refers to Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, making the reader aware of how the story was told there and the differences. There are many anachronisms in The Once and Future King.
The primary problem Arthur tackles throughout the book is the idea that Might is Right, or more importantly, how Arthur can get his nights to use their might–fighting skills and bravery–to help others and do good things rather than impose their will on people.
The Ill Made Knight was my least favorite. This part was focused on Lancelot, who is portrayed as a wet blanket. He's so concerned with being virtuous and good that he causes his own problems. (Virtuous in his eyes centering on his virginity.) Makes a good story but somehow it's not for me. This is also the part of the King Arthur story I'm most familiar with, the Camelot musical and love triangle and all of that.
I do appreciate how none of the heroes are portrayed as perfect, they all have their complexities and issues. As far as the villains, well, Mordred is interesting but his mother, Morgause, never gets any depth or sympathy. I never knew that Morgause was different from Morgan le Fay; this is the first time I've ever seen it told that way.
As someone who was never a big King Arthur fan, I can't say if this is a must-read classic for Fantasy fans, or a dusty version of a story that could use a fresh take?
I found this to be fun and quick-paced. It drew inspiration from monster movies and the conflict was one that is often used: “billionaires are evil.”
Scalzi used dialogue to tell the story 90% of the time. This was efficient and started out entertaining until I realized that every character had a similar personality and and sense of humor. The cast of characters was only superficially diverse since they otherwise spoke the same “language” of smart-ass-ery and there was no conflict among the group of colleagues.
At first, the humor seems fresh and then it quickly gets old. Since the premise isn't that original either, I don't have strong feelings about the book either way. Mediocre entertainment.
I haven't met a Buehlman story yet that I didn't like. This one switches things up nicely because the other two I tried from him were horror/vampire stories. I honestly wouldn't have looked at this one twice but for the writer. I was curious about what he would do in a genre (High Fantasy) that I'm not often in the mood for.
Buehlman's a great storyteller. Blacktongue Thief works for me with all the major elements, the characters, the world-building, an exciting plot, and the added bonus of a sense of humor.
Narrator/protagonist Kinch is the title character, a thief who starts the book already in trouble because he's indebted to his own guild. He's living in a bleak world, nations/species always at war and a survival-of-the-quickest mentality everywhere.
The cast of characters is about 90% female, and at first I thought, well this is some serious overcompensating for the lack of prominent female characters in older books of this genre. But no, the reason for this is logical: multiple wars with the Goblin nations killed most of the young male population and the young women who in turn became soldiers didn't have much time for making sons (or daughters).
Kinch is a complex character, both jocular and dark. Much of his character journey focuses on the nature of bravery and his perceived lack of it. He is one of the few young men that dodged the above mentioned wars, and he faces his own guilt and judgment from others. Through the adventures in the book, he needs to find courage both to prove something to himself as well as address his need to prove something to his traveling companion.
Kinch gets into a series of adventures that are conflicts with shades of gray not good and evil, and no sense that the overall goal of the characters has the greater moral value or purpose at least among the humans. Everyone is out for themselves and writing the wrongs that they perceive. But among the humanoid character types (Goblins, Giants) there are more extreme and interesting dangers for the main characters and give the story “bad guys” to root against in favor of Kinch and his companions.
This novel is one of those I'd heard of over the years, and was aware of the various adaptations and so on but never got around to exploring it. It felt like one of those you should look into if you are interested in British literature, so I decided to tackle it. The story takes place between the two world wars and shows the degeneration of an aristocratic family, who are slowly losing their money, prestige, and so on.
Captain Charles Ryder, during WWII, gets stationed near the Marchmain house, family estate of his old friend Sebastian Flyte. The book is his memories of his time with Sebastian and the rest of his family, Lord and Lady Marchmain, and their children.
Charles meets Sebastian Flyte in college, where they get very close. However, when Sebastian first introduces Charles to his family home, he has some issues with them, avoiding introducing Charles, at least at first. The family is Catholic; Lady Marchmain in particular, insists her children to be as tied to their faith as she is. Charles himself is ordinary, middle class, with enough money for college and no strong religious ties or feelings.
Charles and Sebastian, I assume, are romantic or sexually involved, though it is never clearly said. Sebastian develops a drinking problem, and Charles is stuck between him and his family as they expect him to help get Sebastian straightened out. Charles is popular with the family, yet Lady Marchmain is disappointed that Charles is an atheist and prefers Sebastian to have more Catholic friends.
It is not expressly said, but possibly the drinking is because Sebastian can't reconcile being Catholic with homosexuality. Also, Lady M knows they are more than friendly and doesn't want Sebastian involved long-term in a relationship with another man. Interestingly, no one makes a big deal of the young men's relationships in college; the characters take these entanglements for granted and as temporary before assuming they will graduate to traditional marriage and children.
The opening half of Brideshead Revisited concerns Charles and Sebastian and moves slowly, including many scenes of drinking and traveling with rich people. I wasn't that captivated with the book at this point.
In the second half, Charles grows into a talented artist and marries a woman who helps with his career. The drama in this part of the book revolves around his relationship with Charles' sister Julia and her struggle between wanting to do as she wants with her personal life (in her case, marrying men who have not had their previous marriages annulled; a no-no in the Catholic church) and following the rules of the Catholic church, which somehow becomes more important to her after her parents die, first one and then the other.
One theme is how much the characters allow religion to rule their happiness, especially in the case of Sebastian and Julia. They struggle to balance what they want and need with what the church says they are allowed to have/do.
Narrator Charles is deeply involved with the family but not religious, so he maintains an obejectiviy on many of their issues. Although I'd describe the book as being about faith, it's not clear how strong Sebastian and Julia's feelings are about Catholicism as they never discuss it with Charles nor do they express their spiritual side or what it is they get out of observing the religion, there is only their behavior to go by and notice what it is taking out of them. Is their belief unquestioned and just innate within them despite their education and intelligence?
One element that is hard to reconcile is that infidelity is acceptable to the Marchmains over divorce. I was raised Catholic and am aware that cheating was never okay. Yet somehow, with the Marchmains, it is preferable to divorce/remarriage. In addition to Julia's well-known affair with Charles, Lord Marchmain kept a mistress, and his wife accepted this.
The second half moved quicker and was easier to get invested in, maybe because the story clarifies the stakes of the relationships.
The book ends on a down note and the feeling that Charles suffered just as much or more than the family he was involved with, despite not having the same internal conflicts with faith versus personal fulfillment.
This was really well done! I think I've just found a new author to follow and will look for his earlier work.
Sleepwalk reminded me of a Philip K. Dick novel, Valis maybe, where the science fiction element is secondary to the psychological study of the narrator.
Will Bear lives in a dystopia where the things that seem bad/going wrong in our world are enhanced enough to be at a crisis point. Will has managed to built an existence for himself where he remains anonymous and disconnected until he gets an impossible phone call that gradually drives him to the point of needing other people.
Despite all the backstory and internal stuff going on there is a healthy dose of action and a perfect pace.
Most striking to me is that by the end, though the world seems to be heading to apocalypse, Will seems to be in a much better place than he started.
Sweet and cute kinda-sorta sci fi. I'd group this in a category with Remarkably Bright Creatures where it is mostly a character/family drama story and using in this case alien invasion as the hook.
This is a pleasant and fun read. Nothing terribly challenging. There's some humor at times but I would have appreciated sharper edges. There isn't much conflict or depth. It's sort of a celebration of humans and America in particular with our bacon, cheese, plastics, and television.
I'd say if you are feeling down and in need of a light, cheery, and slightly oddball book to read, this is a good pick. Also, it helps if you love cats. There's a lot of words thrown at the reader about enjoying life and being human. Probably good advice.
Cute, “family movie” vibe with the added gimmick of an octopus and his internal monologue. It's in the same vein as A Man Called Ove, featuring an older person who has been through some tragedy and gets the chance to connect with new people. (Hey, octopuses are people too!)
I wish she had pushed the light comedy a bit further and made it funnier. There was potential, but most of the characters were humorless. Van Pelt kept very specific characterizations. Cameron: resentful, Tova: practical, Ethan: generous, Knit-Wits: meddlesome, Avery: spirited. There wasn't much complexity.
Other reviewers mentioned disliking Cameron, and I get it. He's insufferable to the point where I didn't want to see things work out for him. The author must have thought readers would be on his side if she kept serving him bad luck. Sometimes it's more about how the character handles setbacks than the setbacks themselves.
Despite all the backstory of death, child abandonment, and other heartbreak, it's uncomplicated and light-hearted if you're in that type of mood. It was entertaining for the time I spent reading it.
I liked this one but not quite as much as the predecessor, Thicker than Water.
Instead of having a new, original mystery to solve, Naming of the Beasts finally finishes up the Rafi storyline.
Things I loved:
Castor's narration and at times inappropriate sense of humorCastor never gets unrealistically powerful and is always in over his head
Castor's problem solving and quick thinkingThe heist scene at the MOU was incredible fun
The fabulous Rosie Crucis Wishlist of things that could have been better:Something about the final confrontation with Asmodeus felt anticlimactic. Yes, it was a tough battle but Asmodeus seemed more childish than menacing.
I wish we had seen the history of Castor/Jenna James rather than having her be a villain mostly by reputation. We hate her because Castor told us to, rather than being shown a little backstory anecdote to prove his point.Juliet's inner struggles would have been more meaningful without the external cause.
*The larger issue of where all the extra ghost/demon energy came from and how Castor's role is central to it never got resolved.
I'm happy to see a new book in the series has just come out. Maybe it will wrap up some of the unfinished business.
Eye-catching title, eh? Murder mystery with humor and lots of family drama. Dark comedy.
The gimmick is that the narrator is sort of an expert on the rules of conventional mystery writing and he uses his “knowledge” to solve several connected mysteries from his family's infamous history along with a “locked room” (more like an isolated resort) murder in their present.
It's entertaining and well structured. Some things are a tad implausible but nothing to spoil the overall experience.
While certainly not unreadable, Fellowship Point had a few different story threads going and my final impression is one of a disjointed, vague, and overly-long novel.
Some of the plots don't have much of a conclusion. The one thread that is fully developed, the tragic tale of how Agnes developed her When Nan series, resolved with an unbelievable coincidence that was more annoying than satisfying.
There are also some chapters that are pointless, such as the one showing the characters reacting to 9/11. It really had nothing to do with plot or character, just a vague nod to the time in which it's set.
It could have used some sharpening up and a better editor.
Gen-Xers and anyone interested in 1980's pop culture would probably have a blast reading this book. Maybe more so for those of us who grew up in the times since there is a certain feeling of nostalgia and irony about the setting. It was more entertaining than say, Ready Player One, because the music/movie mentions are blended in naturally with the story.
Hendrix uses horror conventions to tell stories about relationships and people. There was plenty of drama and tension; it was hard to put it down. It is similar to The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires in the sense that the main character is ostracized, and it deals with similar themes of hypocrisy, conformity, and judging others by their financial class.
The story contains the usual teenage angst and adolescent struggles, as well as a heart-warming (though highly idealized) take on friendship.
A journalist spends twenty years researching the Manson family murders and other crimes surrounding those, throwing the official trial story and the book Helter Skelter into doubt.
I finished the book feeling bad for O'Neill who, while succeeding in showing that Bugliosi was probably full of it, never finds any confirmed answers to his questions.
Generally, this wrapped up the story threads for the series quite nicely.
If I had a wish for these books, it would be that the three main characters had a stronger role in their own destiny, rather than being manipulated by Bayaz Even Logen Ninefingers, who seems the least affected by this, made most of his mistakes due to his possession by the Bloody Nine so I can't really credit or fault him for any of it. It makes the overall character development a little disappointing.
The greatest moments for me were watching Glotka's intelligence, mercilessness, and vulnerability at play.
Science Fiction and political satire, featuring a sociologist who heads off into space as an experiment and ends up in a replica of an American City on one of Jupiter's moons.The story is obvious commentary and the city is a microcosm of our world where the haves do anything to keep their place of power, including lies, propaganda and exploiting the fears and indifferent of people who just want to live. The conflict is intensified by adding what may or may not be an alien presence that scares the residents into paranoid silence. I enjoy the way Johnson structures his plots to increase in chaos all the way to the end, like a Mel Brooks movie. Invisible Things didn't have as much heart as [b:Loving Day 23164956 Loving Day Mat Johnson https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1420795734l/23164956.SY75.jpg 42710982] and it wasn't as funny as [b:Pym 8501708 Pym Mat Johnson https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320435734l/8501708.SX50.jpg 13367639], but it's still a good read. Johnson should be much more popular.
Interesting idea for a story but I wanted more than a YA love triangle, especially one that was among three such lightweight characters.
It was basically very readable, the plot was entertaining enough for me to want to see how it would end for Addie one way or the other. In the midpoint when we meet Henry, I was curious about him until his secret was discovered. Those things kept me going.
One aspect that could have been explored in a meaningful way was the reasons for Addie's initial bargain. For her freedom and immortality, she trades the idea of being remembered by others. When she's out of their sight, she's out of their minds.
What she's avoided is the idea of growth and change, of growing up and taking responsibility. She wants to stay a child, exploring and dreaming. Part of responsibility is affecting people and living with the consequences for better or worse. Young people in her time didn't get the same opportunity to be teenagers and students that privileged kids in the 20th-21st century get.
Schwab doesn't dive deep into the potential danger of Addie's life or the meaning of a life without responsibility. Instead, Addie feels cheated out of lasting romance and prevented from making a mark on the world as an artist. These are certainly things she's lost but these are romantic and superficial notions. I would have liked to have seen some chapters that were mini-stories in which Addie really had to struggle and suffer.
I fervently wish that the devil or darkness character had had more menace and been a lot more fun. I do not see what he and Addie see in each other Also, Henry's reason for making a deal with the devil was dull and not believable. Everyone gets dumped, dude.
This is an enormously popular book and many mentioned the beautiful language as a reason for liking it. I found the prose to be a bit much. Schwab uses figurative language to the degree that it stops being evocative and gets in the way of telling the story. She also overuses incomplete sentences as a way of creating emphasis.
It's a bit like poetry rather than a traditional style. In a way, I get why people would like it. It might be my own failing since I'm not a big poetry lover.
These Dublin Murders Squad mysteries are about the psychology of the detective solving them, more so than the actual mystery.
So far, my appreciation of the story has depended on how likable and compelling French has made each of her narrator/detectives.
I liked Mick “Scorcher” Kennedy just fine. Or at least I understood him a bit. The drive, the no-nonsense attitude that says doing well is more important than feelings, the priority of practicality over empathy, the belief that yes, you can do everything right and it will pay off if you stick to it.
Where this book lost me a little was mystery itself. I didn't believe in Jenny Spain's madness. There were so many different threads and possibilities happening that this very crucial aspect was underdeveloped . I understand a mystery has to go down a bunch of false avenues to make it challenging and compelling but I think when the solution is presented, it should feel right not like a twist for the sake of itself.
I do think Scorcher's character arc related well to the overall issues of the family. The emphasis on “keeping up appearances” as opposed to reaching out to other people was something he shared with the victims.
I'm not disappointed with the novel overall. Since it is mainly about Scorcher, I enjoyed the inner journey he went on in the course of solving the case. French is a wonderful writer and I'm still overall a fan of the series.