Bronwyn Knox

Weird Western with a decent plot and a few exciting moments.

I'm a big fan of this author and was really looking forward to this novel. There's a lot of action and at first I was compelled by the mysterious supernatural element. In order for those things to work for me, I need to enjoy the characters. It can be a sense of humor, quirkiness, vulnerability— just something that makes them entertaining and believable, more than just pieces of the plot. Usually, LaValle really delivers with this element.

I got absolutely no spark out of anyone in Lone Women.

The concept revolves around the idea of strong women fighting the odds and potential oppressors to make a life for themselves. I want more than “strong and independent.” Admirable doesn't have to mean dull and beyond reproach; this is a cautious and conservative way to go. The best character arc belongs to Joab Mudge, a thirteen-year-old boy who goes from one bad parental influence to another. Unlike the women, Joab is allowed to have rough edges and make terrible mistakes.

The major plot revolves around Adelaide Henry and the mysterious contents of the trunk she brings with her from California to Montana. This is the weird or supernatural element. It could have been a bit weirder for my taste. The big reveal, that the creature is Adelaide's twin sister, is something you can easily see coming. Feels like it's been done. The way to make it interesting would be to give Elizabeth an unexpected personality or take an action that forces a conflict with Adelaide. Instead, she's a plot device that thinks in verse..

There are several subplots in Lone Women which come together quite nicely with the above and are more interesting. It's a fast-moving story and doesn't hesitate in getting to the point. I was involved enough to keep reading it for the little time it took. Maybe the cost of this economy is underdeveloped characters?

Grady Hendrix revolves his haunted house story around a pair of adult siblings who are dealing with the death of their parents and their own strained relationship. It is a strong character and relationship story with enough scary bits to satisfy horror fans as well.

I found Lousie and Mark to be relatable in some ways (Louise's desire to get away from home, her drive, Mark's frustrations and aimlessness) but they were also unlikeable (Louise's incredible denial and neurotic controlling behavior, Mark being a petulant dick). We saw most of the story through Louise's eyes and at times her attitude made me want to reach through the book and shake her.

There are little bits of humor, mostly in the dialogue, which Hendrix is great at. With the scary scenes, at times I realized what I was imagining could be quite absurd and silly, given the nature of the “items” that were possessed.

Great entertainment, escapist but smart.

Detective parody populated by nursery rhyme and fairytale characters.

It is similar to the Thursday Next series but Fforde narrowed this one down to a couple genres rather than using all of literature. Where Thursday Next will have a million different plots to balance, this one had a million different twists. It must be exhausting to be a Fforde protagonist.

Fforde excels at taking something that sounds silly and populating with well-developed characters to give it depth and make it believable. As usual, the targets of Fforde's humor are bureaucracy, capitalism, and the media and how much bureaucracy serves the other two.

Skin Game was a great read in a way that the previous entry into the series was not. No boring, overlong action sequences and the plot made sense with the internal logic of this series. This furthers my theory that on average every other one of the Dresden files is really good.

This one had good structure, pace, an unexpected twist, some genuinely thoughtful moments, and nice touches of humor. It was “Nicodemus's Eleven” paired with Dresden working on some personal issues.

Also, Harry has achieved genre awareness:
“There's always something. It doesn't matter how smooth you are or how smart the plan is, or how plain the mission—something goes wrong. Nothing's ever simple. That's how it works.”

I read this for a book club, so I'm admitting right off that this is not the sort of thing I would choose for myself. The review can be taken in that light.

I enjoyed the historical fiction aspects of the story. Brooks tells the story of Jarrett's evolution as a trainer, and how he made Darley/Lexington into a champion, while maintaining a trusting and affectionate relationship with the horse. He accomplishes all this while dealing with the unjust limitations of being enslaved. I wish Brooks had trusted that this was enough to make her book satisfying.

The art collecting portions of the story didn't go anywhere and seemed unnecessary. But this wasn't the problem.

Why I took my rating from good to just acceptable is because of the inclusion of the modern-day storyline. In 2019, the characters Jess and Theo had a loose connection to the historical portions of the story. Brooks chose use them as a device to point out the continued racial tensions in the United States today.

Using characters as a demonstration of social and political statements is not my favorite technique. There are subtle ways to inspire readers towards meaningful thoughts on the topic. In fact, she does the intelligence of Jess and Theo a huge disservice in order to make her point. This is all done to manipulate the readers into something or other—anger, fear, or guilt presumably. But it's transparent so therefore, not effective.

So, she doesn't trust her story, nor does she trust the intelligence of the reader.

This is a decent collection of novellas, two of which were excellent and will stay with me for a long time.

“Snapshot” was good up to a point, with its subtle emotional resonance about dealing with aging loved ones afflicted with Altzeimers. It should have ended about 20 pages sooner than it did. Hill dragged out various epilogues, for what?

“Loaded” was more of an agenda than entertaining story, made obvious by portraying the protagonist, Kellaway, as an absurd caricature. (The secondary definition of “loaded” is “weighted or biased toward a particular outcome.”)

“Aloft” was excellent and convinced me that Hill can indeed be a good storyteller. A little cosmic horror, a little personal growth. Fantastic imagination and imagery. Rock solid for a story about a cloud.

“Rain” was my favorite, bizarre apocalyptic road story with an oddball cast of characters. The answer to where the rain originated was far-fetched, yet, since the story is flavored with tongue-in-cheek humor and outrageous incidents, the resolution suits the tone.

I nearly gave up on this after the second novella but the last two saved the collection for me.

It's a bit weird looking back on a decade that you lived through and one that doesn't feel that long ago. Klosterman has organized this book as a series of funny, intelligent and entertaining essays focused on different events, pop culture, and phenomena of the time. One of the press reviews called it “irreverent” and I agree.

Reading the book, I realize how much has changed. The internet was fun but not vital, you had to be at home to get a phone call, and we shared a lot more pop culture experiences back then, for good or for ill, such as Seinfeld, Titanic, Nirvana etc. With social media, we might assume we are connected but everything is broken up into little bits of specialized interest. You also had a higher degree of individuality.

“No stories were viral. No celebrity was trending. The world was still big. The country was still vast. You could just be a little person, with your own little life and your own little thoughts. You didn't have to have an opinion, and nobody cared if you did or did not. You could be alone on purpose, even in a crowd.”

I enjoyed being reminded of things I hadn't thought of in years. Clarence Thomas, Ross Perot and the 1992 presidential campaign, and the entire millennium changeover scare.

Born the same year as I was, Klosterman had a chapter (Fighting the Battle of Who Could Care Less) devoted to our generation, generation X, who were the young people during the 90s. We would have been the ones influencing and experiencing the 90s the most at the time but it's hard to notice something when you are in the midst of it.

If there is any weakness in the book it's that I wish he'd been able to go into more of the literature/fiction writing of the time. He mentions a couple of books, neither of which I think were a big deal.

I appreciate the way all the plots tied together as the story wrapped up but it was a let down after the previous book. I thought we were headed for a more thoughtful Dresden after the beautifully constructed and by comparison more thoughtfulGhost Story.

Butcher went back to throwing Dresden into one action scene after another and completely failing to enthrall me. If something is constant, you start to tune it out.

I suppose if only every other book in this series is good, that's still notable given how long it has continued.

This is my favorite of the Dublin Murder Squad books so far, mostly because of how much I loved Frank. He is one of those guys with that tough but sensitive personality type plus a touch of good humor. I was pulling for him, not just to solve the mystery but to get his shit together too, emotionally speaking.

The mystery was good, not too hard to figure out but satisfying and it connected so well to everything Frank went through. Of course it helped that he had such a personal stake in it.

The heart of the story is Frank returning to his home neighborhood and dealing with his troubled family, something that he had been avoiding for decades. The conflicting character theme that you can never go home but also that you can never really leave your home behind either resonated with me.

Fairy Tale is a coming-of-age story, narrated by Charlie, a 17-year-old who discovers a passage to a fantasy world, parallel to our own. I found it entertaining enough with an adequate if not staggering story and mildly likable hero. Charlie narrates the story in the first person and when he gets to the other world, he mentions the fictional stories from our world that are similar to what he's experiencing, making this a meta comment on fairy tales/fantasy. I would have preferred it without this element and would rather make my own associations and connections.

As other reviewers pointed out, the beginning setup of the story goes very slowly. The backstory of his mother's death/father's drinking, Charlie's “deal with God,” and his friendship with Bowdtich and Radar are laid out. I don't mind a long Stephen King book or taking the time to develop characters but somehow these relationships in Fairy Tale are lacking conflict and depth. Yes, Bowditch is difficult and Charlie's reasons for helping him are complicated, but it still feels mundane. Charlie's motivation of saving Radar wasn't the most compelling but it was relatable for any of us that have ever watched a pet age and slowly pass on.

Once Charlie made the decision to go on a magical journey, my curiosity was piqued for the fairy tale world which had some interesting elements. There was some tension as Charlie reached his goal of helping Radar and then paid the price for it. I enjoyed the concepts of the Night Soldiers (and the solution for stopping them), the Fair One, and the Gray. I wish the “science” of the Night Soldiers and the Gray had been fleshed out (no pun intended) but that's no big thing. I appreciated seeing Charlie's development in terms of problem solving and taking responsibility. The final beast battle was unfortunately anticlimactic, as often happens with King. (I am still not over the final Dark Tower battle.)

Generally though, Fairy Tale was a bit bland and mild. It's similar to The Talisman, Eyes of the Dragon, or The Dark Tower but not as deep and intense. Stephen King Lite?

I used to love this book when I was a youngish teenager, the combination of Gothic elements, mystery, revenge, and suspense made it irresistible. Possibly I was more into it than Andrew's more popular Flowers in the Attic. Certainly My Sweet Audrina is just as good. I reread it many times, still enjoying it even once I knew the big secret.

Audrina is the narrator and protagonist of the story, living under the shadow of her brighter and better older sister, now diseased. It is a dark atmosphere indeed that Andrews created, perfect for the Gothic genre. Audrina's living in a mansion, known as Whitefern, but far from luxurious, it is run down from neglect, full of inadequate lighting, a dangerous staircase, and—in the case of her dead sister's bedroom—creepy dolls and spider webs. If that weren't enough, there's always the stormy weather happening in key moments throughout the book.

The major conflict for Audrina is one of memory and identity, with Audrina lacking a sense of her past and always wishing to be like her older sister, Audrina, who family speaks of as being so “special.” Unaware she is the victim of, among other things, a huge gaslighting plot, she never even knows the time, the day, nor is she allowed to attend school (Unsubtly, the main rooms in Whitefern are lit by gaslight.)

“There were shadows in the corners and whispers on the stairs and time was as irrelevant as honesty.”

In retrospect, the big reveal of the book seems obvious. Did Audrina not think it was weird that she had the same birthday, same name, same appearance as her long dead sister? The first time I read this, I admit I accepted it entirely, so complete was the gaslighting and so sympathetic was young Audrina's narration. The main mystery of the book is psychologically fascinating, if you can suspend your disbelief.

Adding to Aurdina's problems is the dynamic of constant tension between her parents, between her mom and her aunt, and between everyone and Audrina's wild and willful cousin, Vera. High, overwrought emotions, secrets and revenge add to the gothic atmosphere and romantic and sexual jealousy, as well as a general obsession/repulsion about sex give My Sweet Audrina its spice. A lot of this is man/woman battle of the sexes stuff: Mom gave up her career to be a wife, Aunt Elspeth has secret feelings for Dad, and just who is Vera's father anyway? Kinda soapy but compulsively readable.

“There was a war going on in our house, a silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that was spilled was always called pride.”

The secondary revenge plot is pretty good too, and Andrews plays a long game with it, including a bit of misdirection. Audrina's father is apparently the heavy, pitting all the women against each other for his love and keeping Audrina tightly under his control through fear, guilt, and affection. Yet, it all comes down to the women making decisions and taking action—and since this is a bit of a melodrama, a bit of a dark fantasy—they mostly make the wrong ones. It's notable that nothing big happens in this book that wasn't the result of action or machinations of one of the female characters. Maybe that was another reason that this and all VC Andrews works meant so much to me at the time.

There are a lot of fascinating ideas in this novel. As many reviewers have mentioned, Jemison's world-building is imaginative. I love the idea of the Orogene's superhuman gifts during an age of environmental turmoil. Syenite and Alabaster's friendship/relationship/mentorship was nice. I appreciated the diverse characters and the unusual polyamorous relationship that formed, which I don't often see in a sci-fi fantasy book. I was also glad to see a vital female lead; one where the writer doesn't self-consciously draw attention to that fact.

I didn't love the book. About halfway in, I was increasingly bored and wanted more. Part of it might have been the three-way divided narrative. The chapters with the child Orogene had the most potential to involve me. I would have appreciated more about her relationship with her Guardian. I also wish Jemison had expanded on how that Guardian/Orogene system came to be. It feels less like a fleshed-out story and more like a hazy (but lengthy) tour through this world with the three different Orogenes in different stages of life. I wonder if this would have created a better build up if they had told the story of Damaya (who grew to be Syenite, who changed her name to Essun) in a linear way.

The Orogenes are the most powerful (in terms of “magical power”) and necessary people while simultaneously being the most hated and feared—not to mention slaves to the powerless Stills. This sounds like a great source of tension and conflict for the story; it doesn't live up to its potential. Enslaving the Orogenes is like enslaving a bunch of Firestarters; in King's book, the government fails to control her and she's all alone.

This inconsistency is exemplified in the scene where Orogene Essun is leaving the town of Tirimo to look for her daughter. The town leader allows her to leave but other citizens have learned what she is. They foolishly attack her, and she kills them all with no fuss or muss on her part.

Why would the Orogenes, with this superpower, put up with this treatment, other than (possibly, it's not defined) internalizing the global belief that they are born “evil”? The sheer numbers of the Stills maybe, yet that is not enough. They may not be able to combine their power but they could certainly cooperate together using their intelligence. Part of the job of the author is to make this work, make it believable.

The idea that the Guardians have an affectionate yet contentious relationship with their charges was another potential avenue of conflict not developed. The Guardians are basically slaves as well; once they lose their grip on their abilities they are put down like rabid dogs. There could have been a compelling inner conflict where the Guardians have ambivalent feelings about their role. Instead, they amount to a vague source of menace to the Orogenes.

I would have liked to have seen a little more intensity from the story and characters. (Constant anger is not the same as intensity, nor is it a personality trait.) As it is, I'm not engaged enough to continue the series.

Cute and humorous horror/comedy pitting traditional Halloween monsters against humans who like to call up Lovecraftian horrors for kicks.

This has a ready-for-teleplay kind of feel and is pure entertainment. The characters are uncomplicated and charming, especially Duke and Earl, the two out-of-towners, who drop in on a town plagued with weird supernatural pests.

It's a quick read if you like horror and are in the mood for something fun.

Ghost Story was a cut above the rest of the series for me, at least so far. Dresden is in a situation where he has to learn all new rules of how the world operates for him in his “condition” and how he can effect any change upon it. It's good to see a powerful character reduced and have to struggle as though they were back at their humble beginnings. I was much more invested in his successes and failures because I felt he was really up against some obstacles.

Many scenes were memories of Harry's past, revealing things we didn't know before, because they took place before the events of the first book or because Harry didn't know them either. These were all well integrated into the story and set up well to move the plot along.

This series is hit-or-miss for me but this is one of the “hits.” Ghost Story was uncommonly satisfying in terms of character development, compelling drama, and adventure.

Sherlock Holmes is synonymous with the idea of a fictional detective, yet I realized I had never read a single one of his stories.

A Study in Scarlet, the story that introduces Holmes and Watson, exceeded my expectations. I did assume I would be in for a dry, dusty, 18th-century novel with a pretty good mystery to solve in there somewhere. But, as a fan of mystery, pop culture, history and so on, I figured I should dive in anyway.

Instead, this seemed fresh, bright, energetic. Telling the story through Watson's eyes was a great way to show Holmes' talents and eccentricities insight of someone a bit more average, I suppose.

The mystery itself was also excellent, full of interesting details, compelling motivation and not something you could easily guess.

Highfire takes a high fantasy-style ancient dragon, drops him in the Louisiana Bayou, and mixes him up in a crime thriller, involving a corrupt officer of the law and a highly resourceful teenager.

Unexpected friendships, humor, and personality-filled characters make this book a joy. There is a lot of adventure; I find myself actually caring about the action because all the players involved are so layered and colorful. Even the villain has depth, sure it's all evil depth, but it's there. There's a little bit of a message about species extinction and learning not to judge an individual by previous experiences with the rest of their kind. It's well done, and handled via the character arcs, not heavy-handed.

It's a bit like a Christopher Moore book, combining modern fantasy with pop culture references and quick-witted dialogue. A Moore fan might like this and vice-versa.

A book that has me asking myself the question, am I cool and edgy enough for this?

I struck out trying to read Gravity's Rainbow when I was in college, simply did not have the patience for a book that doesn't give you a character/story thread to follow.

This book kept turning up on lists of other books similar to ones I like so I thought I'd give Pynchon another shot. Plus, let's face it, it's short and sweet.

The writing style is quite dense and the story has elements of satire, mystery, conspiracy, not to mention sex, drugs, and rock n roll. We follow one character, Oedipa Maas. Named executor of her ex's will, she finds herself following a trail he left for her. Out of her depth in a new town (San Narciso, CA) she hunts down a conspiracy involving an underground postal service and forged stamps.

It's a bit like Alice in Wonderland as she meets weird character after weird character, many of whom seem helpful at first but aren't. Also it has that kind of nonsensical/funny dialogue.

Questions don't quite get answered in the conventional sense. With this kind of book, it wouldn't fit to wrap things up neatly. It's more about Oedipa's experiences and mental state as she doubts herself, but continues on, hits a roadblock, and finds a new path and so on. A lot of it is social commentary on ‘60s America.

I was thoroughly entertained and engaged by it, but I'm still not sure I'm cool enough for Pynchon.

Aleisha, a teenage librarian with an attitude and recent widower Mukesh bond over reading books off a reading list of unknown origin. Both are dealing with family issues. They meet when Mukesh decides he wants to read fiction to feel closer to his wife, so he goes to the local library and asks Aleisha for recs.

She is uninterested and unwilling at first but then she finds the reading list at a propitious moment, starts reading the first book (To Kill a Mockingbird) and passes it on to Mukesh. They form a two-person book club and read each book as Aleisha goes down the list and then recommends it to Mukesh. The rest of the story is seeing them deal with their individual family issues.

Mukesh is treated like a child by his three daughters who think he can't handle life without his wife. Aleisha is a child (teenager) but her and her twenty-something year-old brother Aidan are not allowed to be young because their mother is in the middle of a mental health crisis. Since their father is off with a new family, it falls to Aleisha and her brother to look after Mom.

The connection with Mukesh in Aleisha should be found with neither of them being allowed to act as their true age because of family dynamics/recent tragedy and the isolation this has created. The books are a form of escape as well as a way toward broadening their view points. Adams doesn't go deeply into any of this.

It is handled in a shallow, obvious way. Much of the dialogue reads like commercials for the books and told in such a way that a child could grasp it. “I learned so much from Atticus.” “This is just like when Jo was grieving for Beth.” It's stilted and not believable as two real people talking.

It is a very easy read, no challenging ideas and little plot. The sudden dark turn it takes is out of place in such a soft, mushy book. Adams didn't handle it or lead up to it very well. We didn't explore Aidan or his troubles enough to have his suicide mean much to me so it just seems melodramatic and just a device to give the book some plot or big event.

Adams could have taken another few passes at this book to add more depth and connection. Seems like a first draft rushed to publish.

Interesting premise and has themes similar to Fight Club, but there's not a lot to this book.

After the set up of the various sub plots, some scenes of Vincent interacting in the various subplots, comes the revelations and very little actually happened. Any consequences of his activities are not part of the limited story.

Some of the scenes are amusing; a lot more are lewd due to the sex addict subplot. If you're squeamish about bodily fluids of all kinds, possibly consider skipping this one.

It's not my idea of “subversive” as most of the criticisms of society and convention are overtly stated.

It was mildly entertaining but although it seems to take on heavy topics (addictions, the medical care system, child abuse, finding meaning in life, etc.), Choke is lightweight.

I like that this is a different style for Mieville. It's good when authors do different things instead of just writing the same book over and over, which happens quite often. There is a lot of humor and lightness that I can't recall seeing in his other works.

I really enjoy his imagination, and there are quite a few interesting character concepts in this book, such as Wati, the afterlife familiar who can connect with the world via any statue, figure, or doll; Jason, who can put himself in any environment and convince you that you already know him; and the body-horror-esque sentient Tattoo. My personal favorite is Collingswood, a magic-using cop who behaves with nihilistic swagger you seldom ever see in a female character.

If you're a fan of humorous urban fantasy, then you probably already have read a bunch of books like this. If so, you're looking for something that will add something new to that kind of genre, a different take or an astounding story.

The story of the Kraken could have been a case investigated by Dirk Gently or Peter Grant, or have been something written by Neil Gaiman.

If not adding anything unique to a genre, authors can succeed by giving us characters we can really get involved with so we can care about what's happening on that level rather than because of a unique concept.

I didn't get this from The Kraken . If Gaiman or Adams had written this, there would have been more warmth and charm to it.

As interesting as the Kraken's character concepts are, he never takes them much past their concept into relatable personalities despite their inherent weirdness. He never makes the strange familiar enough for me to care about actions and motives.

The themes about belief and religion aren't anything new either.

The book felt incredibly long to me and three-quarters of the way in, I wanted it to be over. The plot cuts wide rather than deep with various groups running around with their individual investment in the apocalypse or the Kraken. A clean and well-organized plot can certainly bear up under the weight of so many competing character groups, but that wasn't the case here.

Fast-moving can be good but The Kraken was splattered chaos in need of an editor. I'm feeling 2.5-ish about it, but will round up to 3 since it did provide some moments of humor/entertainment.

Howard is such a good storyteller that I'm up for checking out whatever he's got to offer.

Like others, I came here after reading the Johannes Cabal series, and other than the horror/modern fantasy elements, these Carter & Lovecraft books aren't quite that. They don't have the same sense of humor and larger-than-life characters.

There is some humor, but a bit more subtle.

What they do have going for them is Howard's intelligence, well-structured stories, well-defined characters (even the minor characters have moments where we sympathize with their POV), compelling action sequences, and a blend of horror/sci-fi that is a little bit of The Man in the High Castle and a whole lotta Lovecraft.

If I have a complaint, it's that a lot is left unresolved. It seems as though this was intended to continue on as a series but so far it has not. It feels like a television show that didn't know the networks were planning to cancel.

I have a couple of nagging questions, like just what the heck is Mr. Weston and when is Emily going to use her fabulous string art.

I'm hoping the series will continue at some point.

I feared this would be one of those overhyped YA books and read it only because my daughter was reading it, and I figured, why not, we could talk about it after.

To my surprise, it turned out to be really good, touching and funny and sad and everything you would hope it to be. Hazel is a charming and engaging narrator who makes what could be an over sentimental story reasonably grounded.

If I have any minor quibble with the book it's that Hazel's favorite writer, Peter Van Houten was a caricature, out of place in a novel full of believable characters. It was completely unbelievable to me that he'd show up for Gus's funeral Giving Green the benefit of the doubt, there must have been some literary device or point to this that escaped me.

This was an unexpected pleasure. I even teared up a few times when reading, an event which rarely occurs.

Dune is one of those series that I feel I have to respect, if I'm gonna call myself a sci-fi fan, rather than one of those for which I have strong and personal feelings.

This isn't a bad read, there's plenty of plot twists, action, and some interesting characters. My medium to warm rating it may just be me.

There were numerous schemes at play here, and while the stakes were all life and death, I never got a sense of what anyone's endgame or drive actually was. The theme of characters overly influenced by their ancestors could be taken figuratively but is a literal concern for the title characters.

Thinking through the plot, it's all kind of batshit crazy, but not in a way I found fun. Drug trips, possession, big worms, big tigers, revenge, kidnappings, and so on. Sounds fun but since I wasn't feeling the character motivations/goals, it was just a lot of stuff. Could be a lack of careful reading on my part since I was less than fully engaged.

Of the original trilogy, I liked Dune Messiah the best, for subverting expectations after the triumph of the heroes in the original book. There's also a central point made there, about the danger of mixing up your religion and your political leaders.

Children of Dune picked up from there, with the children and others still standing left to pick up the pieces. I enjoy the ideas expressed on politics, religion, and society but I wish they were mixed with a story that entertained me more.

“Governments, if they endure, always tend increasingly toward aristocratic forms. No government in history has been known to evade this pattern. And as the aristocracy develops, government tends more and more to act exclusively in the interests of the ruling class - whether that class be hereditary royalty, oligarchs of financial empires, or entrenched bureaucracy.
- Politics as Repeat Phenomenon: Bene Gesserit Training Manual”
― Frank Herbert, Children of Dune

The publishing/marketing person who wrote “Catch Me If You Can meets True Grit” has got it right.

It is an action-packed western (sort of set later than a traditional western) combined with an engaging character portrait.

Pat Crowe, the protagonist/ anti hero was a real person who kidnapped and held a minor for ransome. I wasn't familiar with his story so I can't say how much of this was true. It doesn't matter much to me; it's such a good story no matter what really happened and what was made up.

Crowe gives his own first-person narration in a language that seems too poetic for who he is but it's so well done that I overlooked that. It's sort of like watching Deadwood. Makes no sense that people are talking the way they are but it sounds cool, so viewers roll with it.

I'm not sure why Hilleman tells the story out of order. Maybe it adds some suspense that telling it from A-Z would not. It's nothing that bothers me; great novels are often done this way.

One of my favorite reads of 2022.

Weird book, and I do like 'em weird.

It had shades of Alice in Wonderland, though the blurb mentions Gulliver's Travels. I also see the Wizard of Oz comparisons, as well as Piranesi and any book or movie where a character is taken out of the real world and has to learn the rules of a new one.

I understood what was happening/had happened about half way through so I'm guessing there isn't meant to be a twist factor. After I figured it out, the rest of the story was spent waiting for the narrator to do the same.

I might have liked it more if I had empathized with her. She was more likable when confused and I could root for her to figure out the puzzle, both external and internal. Moments when she would suddenly act out scenes from her past you see a neurotic person involved in a toxic relationship. This does help put together a story but it is so extreme that it feels like a cliche, maybe because it's a one-sided view of the relationship.

There are certain elements to this that I still don't get —Cylvia's transformation, all the quantum physics stuff. Perhaps that is the genius of the book, and I'll just be walking along some day and suddenly the meaning will hit me.