Bronwyn Knox
I'm not sure why I was so bored and annoyed with this but it made me question whether or not I still liked reading in general. I may have been in a mood. Generally, a good book will get me out of a funk, not exacerbate it.
The story is Barker's stab at his own creation/death mythology, in which Earth is part of five parallel dominions called the Imajica. Earth has been cut off from the other four (Earth, always gotta be different). A society exists (in England, natch) whose job is to keep it disconnected, generation after generation.
The main plot centers around a Maestro or messiah-type who can bring about a Reconciliation, uniting Earth with the rest of the Imajica.
The first third or so was mildly entertaining. Then, it devolved into a disorganized, repetitious mess. The characterizations were shallow, and I had no investment in their goals or relationships. Barker could have used an editor or someone to rein him in and keep things focused.
There were also all these footnotes to explain who was who and what was what but you could get that same information from the context. Sort of a waste of time. (You could always go to the glossary in the back if you forgot something, which was likely since there are so many characters and references.)
The relationship between Gentle and Pie Oh Pah, possibly forward-thinking in 1991, was a recreation and expansion of the relationship between Genly AI and Estraven in Le Guin's Left Hand of Darkness.
For much better fantasy by this author, I'd suggest Weaveworld or Everville.
Well written and intense. I wish it had some of the humor of Cranor's well-known project, Welcome to Night Vale.
Dystopian fiction that displays influences from 1984, Brave New World, maybe even A Handmaid's Tale—definitely Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Because the book deals with the ability to alter memories, there is a lot of ambiguity, especially in the last few chapters.
Is the editor/author of the footnotes and prologue/epilogue Rosemary, master manipulator?
Layered and lengthy tale of several families affected by a civil court case.
It is quite a 19th-century soap opera with romance, secrets, murder, and intrigue. So many characters. Rich, poor, young, old, nice, not-so-nice and so on. Parts of it were fun; there was dark humor and entertaining sub-plots.
Despite the sheer number of people to keep track of, Dickens kept it interesting most of the time. It amazed me that they all have well-developed personalities. It was like reading a Discworld book in that regard. I liked Bucket the best, a gentleman and cop combo that you don't see very often.
Esther Summerson was not my favorite heroine. She's so nice, and reasonable, and charitable and unassuming that it was ironically hard to like her.
Of all Dicken's books, this one in particular is on many “best book of all time” lists.
I picked this out to read because I read somewhere that it is one of Neil Gaiman's favorites and I wanted to know, since I'm a fan of Gaiman, what in turn is he a fan of?
Shadow and Claw is certainly unusual; I don't know if I've read anything like it. I may have read something with similar far-future/dying planet ideas, but it wasn't handled this way. It feels like high fantasy but hints are dropped everywhere that it is post-apocalyptic, built on the ashes of our society. The first person narration by Severin gives the reader only info that he knew at any given point in his tale and he only focuses on one element at a time. In other words, readers aren't getting quickly oriented to his world. There's no info-dumping. That could be a plus or minus, depending on your level of patience.
Severin doesn't know a whole lot in the beginning: he was raised in the torturer's guild and knows their lore and laws, and what he's been taught. It's clear every guild keeps things pretty close to the chest. When he does travel to different areas of the metropolis he's from as a messenger and so on, it's clear that every character exists in their little world and that is the sum of their knowledge. Even the librarians have an intellectually sheltered life.
Once Severin is excommunicated from his guild, things become less shadowy and mysterious, more adventurous. The majority of the story in two books consists of Severin and a few traveling companions getting into various dangers; there isn't a driving goal though he has some tasks that carry over from situation to situation. There is also a lot of storytelling within the story with supporting characters telling their stories, or Severin reading from a book, or plays that are performed. A story about stories.
Though Severin is a torturer and executioner we see little of the violence and horrific nature of his profession. Not that I really need a lot of details, but this almost makes light of his role, making him innocent and heroic when that doesn't fit his origins. He spends some time pondering the politics, morals, religion, and so on of the society he lives in, so he is a thoughtful character.
This is a smart book, very clever and entertaining at times. I'm going to have to think it over for a while, whether I want to move on to the next half or reread (which was highly recommended all over the place).
Vampire horror story blended with a revenge fantasy and fast-paced action thriller.
It is part of the same world as the Lesser Dead (there's a brief reference to one of the characters from that book) so the same vampire “rules” apply.
Set in the late sixties, this is also historical fiction. The vampires in the title “club” seem inspired by the Manson family and the Stuntman from Tarentino's film, Death Proof.
Quite an adrenaline booster. Recommended if you like fast-moving, fun horror books.
I don't think you have to be into video games to enjoy this book. It might help make it a richer experience but anyone who engages in a creative endeavor that crosses over into pop culture would most likely find the characters in the story relatable.
I appreciated the way Zevin wrote about the struggle of being an artist and art vs. commerce or artistic goals vs. popularity. The conflicts and misunderstandings between game designers Sam and Sadie and their long-suffering partner, Marx kept me interested throughout.
If I break it down, there is not a lot of plot in this novel, it's mostly character and relationship stuff combined with Zevin using the character's thoughts and dialogue to express her philosophy of life/art/play and many social and political opinions.
Her thoughts are lovely and I found myself enlightened or agreeing with them most of the time. I'm sure she'd be really fun to talk to. It's just not my favorite writing technique when the author stuffs the character's mouths with her own messages, rather than letting behavior and story action speak for itself.
This book drags at times, especially given how little happens (Sam's backstory contains more drama than the actual story) and some of it could have been tightened or removed for increased impact.
I liked this fun, genre-crossing book. It's weird science combined with a standard noir mystery.
The science fiction part of the book comes into play with a medical treatment that allows an elderly, sick, or injured person to regenerate their bodies to a youthful, healthy state. The side effect is that they restart the growth process and end up larger than the largest humans. Around 7+ feet as a starting point.
Of course it is only the ultra-rich who can afford this treatment, and those that are well connected to the scientific corporation that created it. Generally, if I think about the very rich, I consider the fact that money can't buy you out of the eventual aging, disease, and death which gets everyone at some time. Harkaway has come up with an idea that would remove this great equalizer–with consequences to themselves and the rest of the world.
The plot is average to good with no great surprises or stunning moments. There's a murder and the protagonist, Cal Sounder, is a detective who tries to solve it. If you took away the science fiction elements it would no longer be unique.
I enjoyed reading this a lot. One of the pros is the narrator, Cal “I'm not a cop” Sounder who is empathetic and resourceful and engages the reader with his thought process. His specialty is dealing with the “Titans” who have taken the age-reversing medical treatment and acting as sort of a go between these larger-than-life humans and the law. He is not one of them but knows them on a personal level. Because of this, Sounder is often between a rock and a hard place while trying to solve the mystery, which is how most of these noir detective stories go.
The dynamic and humorous dialogue is my favorite part of the book and, besides the premise, is what makes Titanium Noir stand out.
Harkaway is one of my favorite current authors. Compared to some of his previous work, this was surprisingly economical with words. I really enjoyed [b:The Gone-Away World|3007704|The Gone-Away World|Nick Harkaway|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1328322676l/3007704.SX50.jpg|3038235] and [b:Angelmaker|12266560|Angelmaker|Nick Harkaway|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1326121401l/12266560.SX50.jpg|14751763], but both were twice the length and went into backstory rabbit holes. Titanium Noir he kept it lean and mean.
Clearly there is social commentary going on here with the rich finding a way to escape some of the harsh reality of life and the concern about what this would do to the earth's resources if the treatment became widely available. I do appreciate that Harkaway doesn't demonize the rich completely, though the Titans have lost touch with humanity. All the characters are written with some layers and there isn't a simple morality or message.
I seem to have hit a “Sophomore Slump” with the First Law. I still think the characterizations and development of relationships were good but I'm not sure that any plot needs to move this slowly, especially over three books that are each 500 pages long.
Maybe I'm just impatient.
As for the characters, I would have appreciated it if the one woman who got a POV in the book was not so boring. All she does is think about how she hates everything, distrusts everyone, and how stupid and slow her traveling companions are. A little of this goes a long way. Was Abercrombie afraid we were going to think she'd “softened” if he didn't repeat her constant bitter inner monologue?
I still like Glotka's combo of inner turmoil and outer cool. One thing that kept me going was curiosity about what he'd do next and how he would deal with what was thrown at him.
Yeah, I'm gonna finish the series. The completist in me needs to see how it turned out.
Supernatural action thriller with a noir-inspired main character who's been to hell and back and now wants revenge on those who sent him, as he puts it, Downtown. To add injury to insult, they also killed his woman.
The mythology and types of monsters suggest the Preacher graphic novels and Supernatural television show influence. As for Stark himself, I can imagine Jensen Ackles of Supernatural saying all of Stark's dialogue with all the tough-guy talk, the sarcasm, and so on. I also see a lot of the Preacher's Saint of Killers in Stark's characterization.
It's a cool genre and in some ways Sandman Slim is a lot of fun. An easy read that moves along at a fast pace; quite a page turner. It's just exciting enough to keep me wanting to know what's around the corner for Stark.
The execution doesn't thrill me quite as much as the concept. It's teleplay-ready, based on action sequences and expository dialogue (with occasional moments of smarty ass-ery from Stark and others). One plot point smashes into the next, often without rhyme or reason, just because the author needs it that way.
Oh, I know it's just for fun and not meant to be serious or life-changing, but I've seen writers balance thrills and spills with depth and development. (Felix Castor series excels at this.) I'm not getting much to think about with Sandman Slim.
All the supporting characters are NPC's that revolve around Stark. They only exist to 1) Hurt Stark, 2) Help Stark, or 3) Give Stark information while hurting or helping him (or sometimes flirting or exchanging insults with him).
The is a bit similar to how Harry Dresden began, including the noir style and immaturity of the character. I didn't love the Dresden Files at first either and but ended up getting attached and finding several gems in that series. This was an easy read so I may this series another try and see if the writing improved as it went along.
I enjoyed this character-driven thriller so much.
The mystery itself was nothing special; crooks being crooks to each other.
But Lionel Essog's narration, watching him work things out, tell us his story, and struggle with his condition very compelling.
It was something to see the way other characters reacted to his moments, his quirks and outburst. Most people are annoyed or repulsed. It was odd how few people had any empathy. I know Brooklyn's a tough place, but damn, I do live in Queens. His issues in participating in the accepted way in most social interactions caused other people to underestimate.
He was a very intelligent and thoughtful character.
I'm two for two with loving this series.
Things that Felix Castor has in common with Johannes Cabal:
Outsider even among his own profession
Strained relationship with better-adjusted older brother
Person from their tragic past he wants to save
Friendship with a demon/succubi
When it comes to literary boyfriends, I guess I have a type.
Once again, the story is impeccable with a well-drawn villain and some fantastic twists. It was more action oriented than the first book in the series, [b:The Devil You Know|663098|The Devil You Know (Felix Castor, #1)|Mike Carey|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1442602181l/663098.SY75.jpg|1936254]. Felix himself engages in frequent violence (in self defense). Maybe he's been working out? Despite the bolder, faster Castor, Carey maintained the same level of depth and development.
Harvest Home is a horror story focused on a city family who becomes country dwellers, trying to buy their way into a peaceful life.
The narrator is Ned, the father, and husband who gives up his advertising job and brings his wife and daughter to the farm town of Cornwall Coombe. Their new home appears to answer all their prayers, even offering a homeopathic cure for his teenage daughter Kate. The naturally curious and energetic Ned starts digging too closely into the secrets and customs of their apparently friendly but odd new neighbors.
The scary bits rely on fear of religion or eldritch “ancient' religious practices of the villagers. They feel that what they are doing is right and justified but are savvy enough to realize that “outsiders” wouldn't get it.
There's something a bit Lovecraftian about this, worship of ancient deities, human sacrifices, and brutal punishment against those who break the rules. Things that play on the fears of modern, “rational” people. The difference is instead of fearing immigrants and other races like Lovecraft, Tryon is going for men's fear of women and their “power.” In Harvest Home, female power means witch-like and “closer to nature” and other stereotypes like these.
I don't know how this was taken in the 70s when Tryon wrote it, but some of the female characterizations, the rituals and corn tradtions seemed a little silly to me in 2023. My inability to take some things seriously didn't keep me from enjoying the ride and still finding lot of it unsettling (in the good way a great horror book should be unsettle you).
Ned is a sympathetic narrator, whom I felt bad for as he got so deeply over his head.
That ending was, wow, very cynical and dark.
Overall the story has a slow build-up with a powerful payoff for readers with patience. Harvest Home was one of the books featured in Paperbacks from Hell. I've had a lot of fun looking into these old classics with the guidance of that book.
I've had a lot of fun reading this series and I'm sorry to see the end of it. I love this heroine and her quirky, offbeat family and friends. Every book has provided humor and entertainment and lots of literature and pop culture related jokes. Kind of nerdy, but I liked it.
This was a fine conclusion to the story (for now?). I love how the quality of these was maintained throughout the series.
This wasn't quite what I was expecting based on the book summary, but it was a worthwhile read.
What compelled me in the narration was seeing all of this through Christopher's eyes, and making all kinds of interpretations and projections about the emotions and behavior of his parents and the neighbor couple and everyone else Christopher interacts with. Christopher can reliably state the facts of what was done and said but the reader fills in a lot of the blanks about what those characters were feeling and about what Christopher is feeling, and any underlying issues and backstory. Haddon leaves the reader to do the work and that's a good thing.
The other thing I noted was the structure. Christopher tells the reader what happened but after a particularly intense moment he'll shift to a different section where he talks about a math puzzle or game or some other bit of science. The reader experiences his shift away from whatever it is he's trying not to have to feel.
The narrator is a unique individual and however readers diagnose him, it is specific to him, even if others find it relatable (and hopefully they do).
I loved the way this began. Tris's uncertainty about who/what she is and her desperation to hide it was genuinely chilling. Her little sister made a fine foil, threatening to wreck Tris's fragile sanity. I really felt for her and her experience was terrifying. (This first half was like a photo-negative version of Coraline,, and like Coraline, was a dark fantasy book for kids that adults could also enjoy.)
My second favorite thing was how skillfully Hardinge blended family issues—sibling rivalry, parental possessiveness and abuse, death of a loved one—with changes to society stemming from WWI. Among these changes are dealing with the emotional and economic aftermath of soldiers who didn't return plus women's greater independence and new role in the world's economy. These add depth and resonance to the fantasy elements.
Once the book was halfway through, the subtly creepy and disturbing story became a fast-paced kid's fantasy/adventure story. It was almost a different book, a little less intense and engrossing for me because the tone from the opening half lightened up.
Cuckoo's song is imaginative and unusual. Hardinge created a set of uncanny, intriguing creatures and characters and I remained invested in the protagonist and her allies. I do wish she had kept some of the mood and emotions from the first half and taken them even deeper but this wasn't a dealbreaker for me in enjoying the book.
I love it when a book exceeds my expectations.
I came across this as a recommendation for Urban Fantasy/Supernatural Thriller. I'd put it closer to Supernatural Thriller as it's not terribly “out there” in terms of fantasy elements. It's actually pretty grounded with subtle and believable touches.
The plot is an excellent crime thriller with plenty of exciting scenes and tension and nothing too predictable. There were also a lot of thoughtful moments. Even things I did see coming, I was fine with because of the storytelling.
Every character was well developed but the big selling point is the exorcist himself, Felix Castor. Since other reviewers are comparing him to famous Urban Fantasy protagonists, I'll go ahead and say he's more convincing than Harry Dresden and warmer than Peter Grant. Castor has charm and empathy, audacity and courage, flaws, weaknesses, cynicism, and personal issues.
I also enjoyed the deeper elements of the story and character, the existential and spiritual questions as well as the moral ones.
I'm generally interested in variations on fantasy more so than the traditional High Fantasy. I tend to categorize all of High Fantasy as the same story over and over about chosen ones, quests, rings, swords, good vs. evil, and so on.
The Blade Itself is an adult version of fantasy, though it does take place in a world of Kings, Princes, and wizards. The story focuses on three jaded characters (as opposed to heroic young adults) trying to survive a brutal world where different kingdoms are constantly at war, struggling for power, not to mention internal politics that can get someone killed easily should they cross the wrong people.
The three characters whose POVs we see are not the power players but rather those who must survive in a dystopian world. They may not be likable, heroic guys, yet their struggles make them relatable. Even the spoiled rich kid gains a little depth as he figures out there may be something he wants from life besides drinking and gambling.
I prefer series where each book has a resolution; the plot of The Blade Itself isn't resolved by the end. But I enjoyed this so much that I will continue with the other two books.
Kazuo Ishiguro's book's never leave you with an upbeat feeling, do they? Of course I certainly won't ever forget about any of them either.
Reading this was similar to reading Never Let Me Go—I couldn't put it down because I was dying to discover what was really going on. Patience is required since Ishiguro's books are mostly focused on the internal experiences of those characters, not the plot.
When We Were Orphans is set up as a thriller or detective novel. Charles Banks, the narrator and protagonist of the story, has chosen detective as his profession. This is an interesting contradiction since his blind spot is the traumatic incident around the disappearance of his parents when he was a child in the British colony in Shanghai.
Banks went back to England, an orphan for all purposes, finished school and quietly decided detective was the future for him. He lived most of his life in a childlike haze or delusion, a lot of it admittedly created by trusted adults who lied and kept things from him as a child. He met another orphaned adult named Sarah, with whom he had in common a need to be part of some great work, to help out the world in some significant way but found out how difficult it was to overcome their own needs.
You would think that as a detective he would have prioritized going back to Shanghai to find his parents. Instead he spent time building a name for himself in London. Once he finally decided to go to Shanghai, he doesn't see things realistically, trusts the wrong people and misidentifies a random Japanese soldier as his childhood friend. In other words, he didn't act as the clever and objective detective he's supposed to be. In the climactic scene, he rushed through the streets of Shanghai in the middle of fighting between the Japanese and Chinese, but he never let go of his personal goal of finding the house he believed his parents were held in, ignoring the chaos and violence all around him.
Like many, Banks' life of relative comfort came at the cost of others who suffered, but he wasn't aware until it was spelled out. The background of Banks' story includes the history of China/British relations and Imperialism leading up to WWII. I appreciate that Ishiguro doesn't take a one-sided approach to these larger issues.
This is my fourth Ishiguro novel, and I've come to the conclusion that all are unique and well written but all leave me with the same empty feeling that comes from identifying with a character's missed opportunities and misunderstandings that get resolved too late to change anything.
Just as much fun as The Big Over Easy and requires/rewards just as much attentiveness with the multiple converging plot threads and never-ceasing jokes. I'd love to know what it's like to be in Fforde's head for a few moments.
Racism and immigration laws are the commentary targets for this one, rather than the usual capitalism/bureaucracy, bringing it a little closer to The Constant Rabbit.
My favorite chapters in the book involve the alien Ash, who gets “humanized” as we learn more about his life, family, hopes and dreams and so on.
I was afraid this would be one of those Dresden-file episodes that is just one tedious action scene after another. It is actually mostly one long action sequence but fortunately I didn't find it terribly boring (most of the time).
Battle Ground felt a bit like Marvel's Infinity War/Endgame where every character that was ever in the series makes an appearance and all are fighting a common super-powerful entity. So many characters make the experience less intense and lacking in sharp focus.
Still, I was more engaged with the battle than I thought I'd be. There were some dramatic moments and twists that were unexpected and well done.
There were also twists/drama that made no sense based on real-life logic or what we know of the characters and therefore were transparently intended to create drama and set up the conflicts for future installments.
Generally, Butcher keeps me hanging on.
Story told from the vampire's POV, like Interview with the Vampire, or even better, The Vampire Lestat. The narrator, Joey, is a vampire (like Lestat) that enjoys being one. He and his gang take advantage of the humans in myriad ways in the 70s-disco-era New York City. It's grittier and less romanticized than the Rice series.
Joey's ADHD-fueled narration tells the story of how he was turned and gives the scoop on what vampires can do and what can harm them. How they survive and keep hidden from humans. And how they make sure other vampires follow the “rules” and don't expose them to the human herd of New Yorkers. It's in a conversational tone, as though he were talking to the reader directly.
The Lesser Dead is a book that starts out by just daring you to read it:
“I'm going to take you someplace dark and damp where good people don't go. I'm going to introduce you to monsters. Real ones. I'm going to tell you stories about hurting people, and if you like those stories, it means you're bad.”
The A-plot addresses the question of what happens when monsters meet worse monsters? The answer is nasty and dark things but a thrilling time for the “bad” reader.
I'll be on the lookout for more of Buehlman's books.
Different from the book I was imagining in my head. I was thinking of a book where he talked about favorite films in detail and how they influenced his life and creativity. This is a sort of memoir about trying to make it in entertainment (stand-up comedy, acting) while at the same time obsessively consuming lots of it. He details a period of his life where he put other things aside to watch films, including his personal life and the one thing he actually hoped watching the films would help him do, make his own film.
This book might be interesting to people who can relate to his particular situation, not something I would recommend broadly. Not even to film fans as I don't get a feel for what appealed to him about certain directors, filmmaking techniques, and storytelling. He speaks of his heavy film watching years like a drug addiction that he beats when he has certain epiphanies. It's good advice for artists, living life and actually making art is more important than consuming art.
The best part of the book, that is to say the most intellectually and emotionally moving, was the “first epilogue” “Whistling in the Dark.” The story behind the chapter title is watching Casablanca in a theater when the film broke before a big moment. As they were waiting for the projectionist to fix it, the audience all started whistling “As Time Goes By.” One of those rare moments when a group creates a fun and positive moment together. The other worthwhile bit of the chapter is this:
“...I'm a stone-cold atheist who's grateful religion exists. All religions. I look at them as a testament to the human race's imagination, to our ability to invent stories that explain away—or at least make manageable—the nameless terrors, horrific randomness, and utter, galactic meaninglessness of the universe. Is there anything more defiant and beautiful than, when faced with a roaring void, to say “I know a story that fits this quite nicely. And I'm going to use it, pitiless universe, to give meaning and poetry and hope to my days inside this maelstrom into which I've, in Joseph Conrad's words, ‘blundered unbidden'”?
Then the chapter goes on to list some film projects that directors wanted to make but never got to make, sort of a dream library.
This could be a good book for hardcore film buffs or those who relate to Oswalt's situation.
I've been having a good time reading through the major Sherlock Holmes works. The short stories and the novels are fun mysteries, though I see more similarities in plots as I go along.
None of them have been quite as impressive to me as the first one, Study in Scarlet, so far. Valley of Fear is the closest to it in structure. There is a seemingly baffling murder, connected to a backstory that is told by a narrator who isn't Watson.
My only reservation about this one is the inclusion of Moriarty as a string-puller in the plot. I realize there must have been some audience expectation to include Moariaty but it feels forced.
Bad Marie. Impulsive Marie. Irresponsible Marie.
Marie gets out of prison after serving six years for shacking up with a bank robber in Mexico. Her childhood friend, Ellen, gives her a job as a live-in nanny to her toddler daughter, Caitlin. The events in the story start three weeks after Marie has been released from prison. It's a character-driven novel. A little more psychological and less noir than I was expecting.
The author never diagnoses Marie with any particular issue, leaving it open for the reader. Marie is not capable of making plans for the future or taking responsibility for her immediate future. Her existence hinges on taking what she needs from whomever is available to use. Want. Take. Have.
Yet, as a reader I found myself on Marie's side. It is told from her point of view (third person) and I root for her to get what she needs and not get caught. Yes, she does bad things. Most of the second half of the plot revolves around her committing a protracted felony. From Marie's view, none of the people she interacts with (and takes from) are all that wonderful either. Her friend Ellen, for instance, is an icy, privileged, workaholic who neglects her daughter. Ellen's husband is a sex addict, plagiarist and all around loser.
Marie's relationship to Ellen is an interesting one. Marie views them as opposites, seeing Ellen as entitled, “hard and inflexible.” From a certain view that is true. Ellen grew up rich, got the right education which enabled her to get the right job and have the life we're all supposed to desire. She certainly wouldn't risk it over an unstable friend who can't give anything in return.
Marie is also entitled; she thinks everything she sees is hers to take since she is not one of the fortunate ones. There is no anger or vindictiveness in Marie's tendency to grab what she wants; that would involve deep thought.
The author doesn't spend too much time on Marie's childhood; she doesn't aim for sympathy with tales of abuse, though Marie's mother clearly is a cold fish. One thing that we know comes from Ellen and that's that Marie hung around her house for what she could get out of it: fancy snacks and access to the pool. She never actually liked Ellen. Marie's selfishness and greed has been with her all her life; she's never been grateful to those she sees as unfairly having more than her, even when they share it.
Marie's love for Ellen's daughter Caitlin could be interpreted as the thing that makes her redeemable. She adores the toddler and sees to her needs, though she does endanger her a couple of times as well. I can see her affection coming from their similarity. A toddler is only interested in their immediate wants and needs and does not think of future consequences. Marie finds her easy and fun to be with, since they are so much alike. Want. Take. Have. Caitlin is not going to make any demands on Marie, outside of the moment. She doesn't pose the challenges and complications of adult relationships.
It's a short book but there's a lot going on. Dermansky has a wonderful, economical writing style that puts you right in the mindset of her protagonist.