Lauren
So at the beginning of the year, I made for myself a similar promise to the premise of this book - one that I haven't done altogether great at keeping. See, for example, the fact that I bought this book - though, it shall be noted that books were on my approved list. But this isn't about me.
The Year of Less is not a self-help book. It is a memoir. I need to emphasize this because it received a lot of negative reviews from people who didn't expect that from it and parted with money hoping to declutter their lives. I'll be honest, I thought it was a self-help book as well. But I wasn't offended to find that it wasn't what I'd expected because the author and I are on a similar journey anyway, and reading this book has helped me remember that and put it back in perspective for me. Still, if that's your interest - please read Marie Kondo's books if you haven't already (Spark Joy was a personal favorite) - or any of the other hundreds of books, blog posts, or YouTube videos available on the subject. This book can definitely serve as inspiration, that is in fact, it's intention. But it's not at all a guide.
Cait Flanders is like a lot of millennials: she's got a stable job, an apartment, her family is loving and supportive, she gets to travel a lot - what more could you want? Well, like almost all of us, what she wants is more junk. Or rather, maybe it's not something she wants, but it seems inevitable that every corner of her life seems cluttered with extra stuff she forgets she has, and it's a growing problem. Cait learns over time to focus her attention on fixing a lot of her personal problems by challenging herself: alcoholism, debt, and finally, zero spending. Originally she used her blog to keep her actions accountable, but this memoir examins it from other angles.
Obviously, some readers might have far more advanced degrees of addiction of their own and might want to seek more tried and true methods to “detox,” as it were. But as for others, really studying and tracking your actions and behaviors, really making more conscious decisions and not allowing yourself to do what is easiest - that's the way some of us need to tackle some of our more ingrained habits. As I've mentioned, this memoir was meant to inspire and motivate the reader to assess their current situation. In particular, to study what you might spend too much on.
Cait goes chapter by chapter as month by month. She covers what happened in her personal life and how things changed to have her reevaluate her needs. It feels a little like
As for myself, I know I have a problem with clutter. I'm messy. I could only own five things and still find a way to make a mess with them. But I've done a pretty good job of controlling my impulse spending, mostly. Still, this memoir was a pretty good reminder and grounding for me, as I haven't got many people in my life I can talk about the trials I go through with my own mission to blacklist unnecessary spending.
For example, this book did actually inspire me to go through my closet just last night and ruthlessly purge anything I didn't wear because they didn't suit me. I don't mean stylistically, though some of these pieces were handed down, and probably better suited the person who bought them new, which the only I had in common was a dress size. But also blouses which I'd held on to for years because I thought they were beautiful, but rarely ever wore because the sleeves were annoying, or they were too sheer and I'd have to have a specific kind of undershirt to wear under it that I could never find when I wanted it, or it was snug over my “food baby.” What remained were outfits I loved to wear and wear regularly. And I'm proud of this, it feels pretty good, and I'm glad she gave me some perspective and guidelines to use in my own life.
This review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
I got this book for my birthday together with a red dress that matches the red in this book's cover almost identically. If you're ever stumped on what to give a bookish girl as a gift, try a new book and an outfit that matches it. The book doesn't even have to be good, the outfit doesn't even have to be elaborate – that shit is just so thoughtful and cool, who wouldn't freakin' love that?
I didn't honestly know what to expect when I read it – I certainly didn't expect it to be a Novel in Verse. I can't comment on the quality of the verse. (I like poetry, I fully support young poets to continue to write poetry and never be ashamed of their “bad” poems. Even if it's truly, truly, truly bad poetry, I think writing it at all takes a kind of motivation that I just find inspiring.) So I'll say this – the verse in this novel was crystal clear; not murky. You can breeze on through it without stalling for minutes at each line, trying to decipher what it all means.
The most exhausting and cringy thing about it for me is the actual subject matter, but this is coming from a 30-year-old woman who hasn't dealt with high school in 12 years, and so this novel brought it all back.
Shay Summers is an insecure, vulnerable teenaged girl. She's over-weight and tormented for it by a bully, and somewhat by her step-mother who is now raising her. She has a crush on a really popular boy named Blake, but she realizes that she doesn't have a prayer with him. Her father died unexpectedly and she's left to be raised by her step-mother. Apparently she feels obligated to dislike her, but honestly, it's pretty clear that the poor woman is just trying her best, given the situation. So... Shay (like a lot of us) eats her feelings.
Shay has two friends, whom I guess you could consider outsiders as well. Boots & Dash: a girl with a terminal illness and Star Trek obsession and a gay boy who is only closeted to his family. Their trio is joy its self, and I think they'd all be interesting characters on their own, but Shay, by and large gets, the stage. At the encouragement of her friends, she joins a local online community where she meets “Godotwait4me,” and a new romance is formed. Shay has a lot of growing up to do, but grow up she does – and I'm proud of her.
The story is pretty predictable and cliched. It's fun and fine, and I get the sense that StVil dreamed this novel up when she herself was in high school because it does have a very late-2000's flavor, or at least that she hasn't spent much time talking to teenagers in a little over a decade. Now the teens have their Tumblrs and Snapchats and Instagrams and whole new ways to torment each other. Also, I really wish that the other friends were allowed to insert more often. Shay could be an interesting protagonist, but her friends had far more interesting and unique stories than just a typical tradish “Ugly Girl” gets “Hot Guy” plotline. Also Blake? Not that great – a pretty typical, totally believable teenaged boy, but I don't see what all the fuss was about.
this review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
I think every romance reader under the Sun has a genre “cat-nip.” Mine is by far historical - Regency's in particular. Sometimes, when you read a string of novels where everyone is pretty “horrible,” you need something to lighten your mood and only a Mary-Sue will suffice. And when it comes to historicals, I feel like it doesn't affect the story one way or another if it's considered “clean” or not. Obviously, some readers are pretty polarized by this, but I'm coming to it from a “Jane Austen is my favorite author” perspective, and while I don't mind it when modern authors do, Jane didn't do the dirty on the page.
So, I needed a palette cleanser after the last few “bleak” novels I've been reading. Clean Romance saves the day, yet again!
This might be the second time I've read a Julie Klassen novel, and while the first wasn't spectacular, they're sufficient. They do the job. It's cool, it's fine, it's just whatever. I feel like this was better than the first one I read, though it's got a lot of the same problems. I'll get into that part later on.
Lilly Haswell has been helping her father, a village apothecary, for years. Especially since her mother ran away. Lilly has an uncanny knack for remembering everything and would probably have made a fantastic apothecary herself, except that as a woman she can't be one. Still, without the official title, she does the work probably better than anyone, including the official apothecary's apprentice, Francis Baylor.
Cool, so one day her aunt and uncle come a'visiting from London with the intention of taking Lilly's brother for adoption to have as an heir. (This was actually super common at the time.) They quickly learn that Charlie Haswell is a poor candidate due to his handicap. Instead, they decide to take Lilly to live with them in London for a while so that she can have a proper London season and hopefully catch herself a rich husband. Secretly, Lilly also wants to use this as an opportunity to find her lost mother. Eventually, she returns home, and that's when things start to get interesting.
Ok. A few things. While I love the amount of research put into this novel - Regency era apothecary practices aren't something I see with this much depth - this novel suffers from a lot of the problems that Klassen's other(s) suffer from, and all of Christian novels in general - and that is that they're plots are poorly structured and lead to some dead-ends. For example, Lilly has a lot of suitors that are interested in her but they all sort of drop off the face of the Earth for no reason until the last one remain. On one hand it could leave the readers guessing until the end, but honestly, there wasn't much real chemistry with any of them. Usually, there will be an obvious tell - when introduced, the author will give the love interest some kind of intimate distinction. “He smells like vanilla,” something like that. I'd say that Klassen threw us off that trail immediately.
Towards the end, things went a little bonkers, going from one cracked trope to another, relentlessly. Again, this is really sort of typical for a Christian historical, but if you're going to invest your time and energy reading a 400-page novel, you deserve more than some cheap gimmicks after everything you've been through. Almost all of the drama at the end was entirely unnecessary, and the wrap up was pretty convoluted. I felt like the author forgot what she'd started earlier in the story because she got distracted by something else and had to find a quick resolution.
Another reason why I find Christian novels insufferable is that there's usually a Christian moral, and they range from exasperating (even for me) to encouraging. The Apothecary's Daughter could pass off as “normal/clean.” The moral was simply to trust in God. Pretty simple. Nothing really grating.
I didn't hate this novel, it was a fine read. But it wasn't great either. It was a pretty simple, classic style Regency romance with a lot of interesting research on 18th-century apothecaries.
This review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
I love you dearly, Delia Ephron. But I'm re-naming your novel “White People Problems.”
I'll be honest. Initially, I wasn't sure what this book was going to be like. I've just finished two books where all the characters are objectively horrible people. I know this is more realistic and very hip and in right now, but aye-yai-yai, can we get a little more sunshine, please? Because really that's the main draw to this book – everyone is more and more awful as the book progresses. But much like the proverbial train-wreck, you can't look away. So while this is sometimes problematic for me (see: I can't stand Game of Thrones because everyone is far worse than the last, and I need one person – just one individual – to be decent for fuck's sake)giphy
I loved hating these characters. Much like an over-the-top reality show, the privileged people's antics and seeing them learn their lessons is one of the most satisfying things I can think of. Think of your favorite reality show or TV drama, and this is it: sexy, scandalous, and ominous.
Siracusa is a story of a couples' vacation – Lizzie & Michael are writers from New York, Lizzie is a journalist who is trying to find her writing voice again, and Michael, her husband, is a Pulitzer winning playwright who is trying and failing to write a novel. Lizzie invites her old boyfriend, now married and living in Maine, Finn, his high-maintenance wife Taylor, and their creepy ten-year-old daughter Snow. Lizzie suggests Rome, then Siracusa. Siracusa, as you might expect, is much less of a tourist destination than Rome is – a bit off the beaten path. For some, that's part of its charm. For others... 😬 Not So Much. (It's worth noting that I'd never want to spend any amount of time with any of these people, except for Lizzie who seems ‘ight.) Well... the thing about couples vacations – as my Mom always said, you can only stay with someone who isn't your family for up to 3 days. Any longer and the charm wears thin.
Each chapter is narrated by a different adult, Round-Robin style, and... let's just say everyone's wrapped up tight in their own shit and call it a day, shall we? The kinda interesting thing about this story is that, because we have everyone's mixed point of view, we get the perspective and the justifications for their behavior. Even if they are jerks, creeps, narcissists, and entitled control freaks, you may not like them, but you can at least understand where they're coming from.
Lizzie is not only struggling to reignite her writing voice again, she's trying to reignite her husband's interest in her. Michael, similarly, is trying to finish (start?) his much-anticipated novel, but he's distracted by a secret he's hedging on telling his wife – trapped like a rat over it. Finn is a restauranteur and is using this trip to Italy as an excuse to imbibe in some of his vices, namely wine and smoking and ignoring his wife and daughter. Finn is, honestly, a shmuck – relatively harmless, but as I like to say “I'm so glad I'm not the one married to him.” His wife, Taylor, is equally as harmless but somehow a much worse person: entitled, controlling, and despicably shallow – she's exactly the type of woman who does end up married to men like Finn in real life. She hates Lizzie; is probably jealous of the relationship she & Finn once had decades before. Taylor is devoted to her daughter Snow – Snow is her twin, except that she's “painfully shy”... or manipulative? Snow is creepy. SHE'S obsessed with Michael – Taylor, who thinks Snow can do nothing wrong, is just charmed by Michael because he's so great with her.
Honestly, this novel is a thrill – it starts off innocent enough, but goes from like a kiddie ride to a 20-storey cardiac arrest roller coaster. Y'all, I was not prepared. You grow up with Delia Ephron's movies: You've Got Mail, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, fucking Micheal – you think you understand her. You only think she's a sweet lady who makes these quaint stories come to life, and you'll rent them from Blockbuster to watch at a sleepover party with your friends from your softball team. You think she's incapable of going dark. You guessed wrong. Delia, who are you? Who are you really? I understand artistic license, and that a good writer thrills at putting their characters through the wringer – but Delia? MY Delia?
So this book was way more soapy than my usual taste. Still really excellent, but not my usual preference. It wasn't what I expected, and it's a quick read with a lot happening. If you're looking for something to read on vacation or while at the pool this summer, you might pick this one up. Just... don't go on any couple vacations. You don't know what will turn up.
review originally posted on my book blog found here
Last month I began fiddling around with the idea of divination – as someone who is religious and spiritual, I'm both fascinated and terrified by the thought of getting insight into what I probably shouldn't know. Humans want to be in control of their lives, and divination is a way we think we can gain that control.
Now, this novel follows that theme when it poses the question “if you could find out the exact date of your death – would you want to know it?” The four Gold children could not resist the temptation one boring day when rumors of a Seer who specializes in predicting the exact day of your death has moved into the neighborhood. They were perhaps unprepared for what they discovered (I mean, they are children), and more than having it alter their lives, I think it altered the way they chose to live their lives.
From the Goodreads book blurb, Which really says it better than I can, honestly:
“Their prophecies inform their next five decades. Golden-boy Simon escapes to the West Coast, searching for love in '80s San Francisco; dreamy Klara becomes a Las Vegas magician, obsessed with blurring reality and fantasy; eldest son Daniel seeks security as an army doctor post-9/11, hoping to control fate; and bookish Varya throws herself into longevity research, where she tests the boundary between science and immortality.”
I suppose I was expecting more magic realism, or as one friend pointed out, for it to be more like Daniel Wallace's Big Fish, which I remember loving. I don't really feel one way or another about this book, honestly. I'd hoped for more, the characters all could have been really interesting, but something in it fizzled out. It was missing something – or rather, I feel like maybe I was missing something. A lot of somethings. I swear I read this book cover to cover and I'm not entirely sure what happened in it or how it ended. I guess I'm pretty disappointed in it, but I know my lack of attention is partly my fault. Regardless, it wasn't memorable.
review originally posted on my book review blog found here
I'll read whatever “Jane Austen” themed trash you throw at me. I don't even have to like it, it has nothing to do with “enjoying” it at this point. I'm just a mindless consumer of Jane Austen fandom.
On that note: why do romance novels tend to have such misleading titles? I'm not dumping on the romance genre: I like romance novels. But more often than not, the title will be the best part of the actual book. (You can love something and acknowledge that it's not great)
This might be the case here. It's not to say I was exceptionally surprised that this book didn't live up to its title, which isn't even an especially fun title. The better question is why I continued to read such a luke-warm novel? Well, see the above point. I will read anything Jane Austen-y.
Honestly, the book was not that bad, but it wasn't that good either. It will never stick out in my memory (and its association with Jane Austen is so marginal, I feel lied to.) It was a quick, clean, light read, but ultimately forgettable.
Emma is a 20-something who has made her life and has everything she could ever want, except her family. 😞 Oh, and you know what else? She doesn't have a husband. Her love-affair with Jane Austen, trusting her as her number one source of romantic advice, is over. After all, Austen was never married so how much could she really know?
OOOOHHH MY GODDD I hate having this conversation, but we're gonna do it. We're gonna do it right here. Stop reading Jane Austen as a manual for how to catch a man, Y'all. Austen's novels were half social commentary & satire, half wishful thinking. For the exact reason we're reading romance novels today, it's a form of escapism. Austen dared to die a spinster in a time when spinsterhood was ruination. She had her chance and turned it down because she was so well aware of how much more miserable a joyless marriage to some bloke would have been in comparison to... WELL! Her career as a writer! Though she might have died poor, she did see some of the money she made for herself, and it was enough to sustain her for a while. This was something that could never have happened at the time if she'd had a husband.
Anyway. The review. Ah yes, where was I?
Emma's boyfriend is rather wealthy, but as it turns out, a bit of a playboy. She finds this out after dropping in on him unexpectedly, you know, as you do. She runs off the nurse her wounds, but friends and co-workers are still expecting her to be engaged to this crummy man.
But Emma is a professional through and through, and when her boss hires a consultant to help her with an expansion into New York who just happens to be her ex's brother, well... Shenanigans ensue. Feelings are caught. A tangled web is weaved. And then everything turns out ok.
Jane Austen factors in, like, nowhere. Am I emphasizing this enough for you? To the best of my knowledge, this isn't a modern retelling, though it does have the flavor of one.
Also, it's a clean contemporary romance. For me, that's all fine and dandy. I don't care one way or another, but some readers might find the lack of spice a deal-breaker, whereas other readers will be looking for this explicitly. Honestly, even if there had been some steamy scenes, it wouldn't change my opinion on how tepid the novel was overall. I'm glad I read it for my yearly book-count but other than that – I'd say pass over it.
book review originally posted on my blog found here
One day a few months ago, I got a text from a friend insisting that I read this book. It was one that had been on my radar for a minute, but at her request, I'd bumped it up. Still, I had to contend with the library's mile-long hold list and so it wasn't really until now that I was able to have my turn with it.
Honestly, it was worth the wait and worth listening to my friend. In fact, is it too soon to say that this might be the best thing I've read so far this year?
So, a disclaimer – but I originally started this blog less too share book reviews but more to share book... “impressions?” I found that the rampant text conversations over books, among other things, that I was having with friends were so colorful and rich that I needed a more designated place to put them. Eleanor Oliphant is one of those books that I needed to talk about to as many people would listen. I genuinely wish people read for fun more so that when everyone was talking about a book, it would be more like when everyone's walking about a show on Netflix. Which is where this blog comes in, I guess.
At 30, Eleanor Oliphant has a perfectly fine job and a perfectly fine life. She doesn't have any friends, love interests, or any of that frivolous nonsense and, guess what? She's still completely fine without it. She has Tesco frozen pizza on Fridays, crossword puzzles, and a potted plant named Polly. She's fine.
Then Eleanor goes to a local concert – because sure, why not? – And realizes she's in love with the lead singer in the band. She has no idea that this full-blown relationship with this man is completely in her head. ...Or that her new friend at work is probably very much into her. The novel chronicles Eleanor's daily adjustments within society as a functioning, independent adult, and how completely oblivious she is. Eleanor is not what you might call “socially adjusted,” having grown up in a foster care system. Often times it's downright cringey – if a little bit relatable. I found it hard to dislike her, even if she is dislikable, because she's easy to sympathize with.
For all her issues, I love Eleanor. She's nothing like a Bridget Jones, though off the cuff you might find similarities. Bridget is much lighter and general – Eleanor is an acquired taste. I'd recommend this novel to all my friends with mental health problems, who are lonely, who have toxic relationships with their mothers, and who are millennial women just trying to get by in this crazy world.
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine is, so far, the best thing I've read yet in 2018. I didn't want it to end, while simultaneously I couldn't leave it alone.
book review originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
I have a little bookshelf back home dedicated to what I consider “Japanese Feminism,” and I'm quite proud of it. This little book (I'm starting to marvel more and more at how the smaller the book, the more of an impression it can make) is only about 130 pages long, so it's entirely possible to read in a sitting. For whatever reason, that's never been my style – I'm way too antsy to sit still that long, though I did read it in about a day.
I was not prepared for how heartbreaking The Buddha in the Attic would be. It's one of those where... I kinda saw the book and vaguely knew I needed to read it, but had no idea what it was really about or what to expect from it. Something about immigrant wives? Something vaguely “Joy Luck Club“-ish? Well, yes and no. You might actually like this book if you like Joy Luck Club, but it's nothing like it, stylistically: apples to oranges, TBH. Thematically, however, there are some similarities.
The Buddha in the Attic is a story of an entire generation of Japanese women who boarded a boat(s) headed to San Francisco, with sometimes nothing much more than the photograph of a man they would meet and marry once they'd have arrived. They come from different backgrounds, but they're all young and fed up with Japan – and are completely unprepared for what to expect once they arrive. The English they've learned is insufficient, sometimes their husbands completely lied about how prosperous they really were and so these women from mixed classes will end up working in fields and sleeping in sheds – if they're lucky. Some will become housemaids for wealthy white women. Some will help their husbands run prosperous businesses: wash houses, restaurants, groceries. Some will leave their husbands. Some will commit suicide. They will start families – and become jealous of their children's abilities to communicate in English so well. Better than they have in all their years living in America. They'll be hurt that their children will abandon the identities that are important to the parents. And then – as we know, World War 2 will start and a very familiar suspicion will crop up, damning the Japanese. Scaring whites. And no one spoke about how suddenly the Japanese just vanished. How can a group of people living next door to you for decades vanish you not notice? Pretty easily, apparently.
Some readers found the use of the plural “We” annoying. I feel like it's important to stress here why I think the author chose to do this. This is not about an individual woman. There is no singular identity representing a group of women: There's no Mary-Sue. The character is actually characters – a group of women. Rather, a Greek Chorus. This is about every single Japanese woman living in that place, at that time. Because they are all exceptional – though their stories are incredibly similar – they all get to have their input and tell their part, and it flows together nicely. I've never seen a narrative handled quite in this way, and I thought it was beautifully done. The way that individual fibers are still unique, but are the same, and when put together create one harmonious thread – which can't be denied that that is what it is.
What makes this feminist, in my opinion, is that we hear the voices of these women, speaking for themselves, when usually their silence has rendered them non-existent. They're never competing for the mic, as it were, even though their stories are unique.
I've been wondering to myself lately, what made me compassionate? Where did I learn this? I know I've learned a lot of empathy for people I've never met, nor could have met living in a tiny town in Louisiana, by being a lifelong reader. But I know plenty of people who love to read and value education highly, but who are not empathetic individuals. So, of course, it goes back to what you read and how you respond to it. (Of course, not everyone will learn empathy and compassion this way)
This novel is a great message for those looking to find it. The entire thing is a letter from lost women time has forgotten, and in our current times, it would do to listen to them and not allow the same mistakes to be repeated.
this review was originally posted on my book blog, which you can find here
“It was the hardest damn thing I ever did in my life. I don't care how many feathers a man wears in his hair, he's still a man. One of them, Red Legs, looked at me and said ‘do you think this is fair? Would you sign such a paper?' and I could not meet his eyes. It made me sick.”
Everyone secretly wants to learn a new language or take up a new skill or just has something on their bucket list that's a little more cerebral than skydiving or climbing Mount Everest. (Even if it's just ONE thing) One of mine is to learn more about dinosaurs – you know, the way every kindergartner is an expert on dinosaurs up until a certain age when, for some reason, they become less precocious or it's just not as cute to be obsessed with dinosaurs? The thing is, science is ever growing, and yes, evolving. Consider, for example, that we now know dinosaurs had feathers, but aesthetically speaking we still can't wrap our heads around it because the dinosaurs of our youth were bald-headed monster chickens, and we liked it that way. My brother never got over his dinosaur obsession. He's legitimately one hell of a talented paleoartist, though untrained and very, very sheepish about sharing his paleoart. He's not a professional paleontologist, geologist, or even scientist. He's just an average bloke who really likes dinosaurs and knows a lot about them. I'd decided that if people are simply downloading apps like Duolingo to learn Spanish, why can't I casually learn more about dinosaurs too? Until there's a dedicated app for “amateur paleontologists” (honestly, there's probably a few decks on Tinycards), I'll have to do things the tried and true way: reading books about them.
Dragon Teeth is the story of Yale man William Johnson who travels to the American West over the course of one summer on a dare. His means of getting there is to go on a fossil excavation, but he knows relatively nothing about it but has too much pride to give up. Because they needed a photographer for the venture, Johnson becomes a photographer and sets out. The subtext-y blurbs imply that the novel is about the rivalry between real-life paleontologists Cope and Marsh, but honestly, it wasn't as front and center as it really could have been. Regardless, Johnson sets off to the West under the “protection” of both Cope AND Marsh. This is short-lived, and Johnson winds up stranded in the Wild West anchored down by boxes of dinosaur bones, which no one honestly understands OR believes is actually “dinosaur” bones. Shenanigans ensue; saloon brawls, sabotage, Indian attacks, the works.
Basically, every millennial you meet had a dinosaur phase that coincided with the release of a Jurassic Park movie (I feel for the ones who imprinted on the 3rd one, though) and so I decided a safe, nostalgic starting place for my education was with a Michael Crichton novel. Naturally, I understand that novels are less informative than nonfiction, but fiction is grounding in a way. They give you a sense of baring. I remember Crichton dying when I was a sophomore in college, and it was enough to have left an impression on me. I was a little surprised, as probably a few of his readers might have been, when nearly 10 years later a new novel of his was released – less so because books like Micro and Pirate Latitudes were also published after he died. If anything, this gives you a better sense of scope of how much Crichton wrote and how many tangents he was interested in. This is something I can certainly appreciate in a man. But it also makes one appreciate the books we got while Crichton was alive.
Dragon Teeth might have been an early precursor to Jurassic Park but it is unlike it in a few ways. For one thing, it's more of a Western and Historical novel than the speculative thriller that the Jurassic Park books were. Certainly, it's not as tidy as they were either. Though it wasn't what I expected, it was still fun to read. I've always secretly loved Westerns, from the time I found a few Louis L'Amour novels up for grabs at an Air Force base rec room, and it was peppered with historical figures. I feel like that was the loosest end in this book, actually – and the reason why Crichton never chose to publish this book widely during his life. I've spoken a little bit about how Cope and Marsh are present, but they didn't feel present. A lot of the hype surrounding this book places a lot of emphasis on these two figures for something that was disappointingly non-present. It's fun, but I understand that Crichton might have edited and honed this book much more tightly if he'd intended to have had it published. Maybe would have written an actual Western without Cope & Marsh in it and focused more on Johnson, or chosen an entirely different lane and written a historic novel about JUST Cope & Marsh.
Another reason I feel this way is because it undergoes a bit of an identity crisis. More so now than when Crichton wrote this in the 70's. Now Crichton's classic is Jurassic Park (obviously), and so everyone picking this up (myself included) expected more Jurassic Park. There's nothing here to support this – it's completely comparing apples to oranges. Rather than be disappointed, though, I choose to admire Crichton's range of interests. I am personally interested in learning more about the early history of fossil hunting and paleontology. Another favorite book of mine that cover's this is Tracey Chevalier's novel about Mary Anning, Remarkable Creatures.
I wouldn't discourage anyone from reading this book – I do think it's a lot of fun. But if you have any expectations for it, then give them up right now. I'm personally torn over wither or not this book should have been published posthumously, because I'm certain Chrichton had other ideas for it, and as a creator, there's nothing more horrifying to me than putting something out into the world that I never prepped for. But it is completed and not complete trash. It could have used some fine-tuning and maybe been published with less interest in making \(\), but I guess widows gotta eat too.
this review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
“We're not courting trouble,” I say. “Flirting with it, at most.”
There's a trendy new sub-genre in YA literature right now that I am ALL on board for called Gaslamp Fantasy, or in this case, Gaslamp Romance. We're all familiar with Steampunk, and while there are similarities it would be unfaithful to call it “Steampunk.” Steampunk is still Punk; it's entirely aesthetic with little interest in historical accuracy – as you would be very familiar with if you've ever heard me complain about wearing corsets on top of the chemise. This is the modern equivalent of wearing your bra on top of your t-shirt. It's not that we don't do it just because it's improper, the way that Steampunk novelists would have you think, but because it's stupid.
Anyway, I have a steady TBR pile growing of other Gaslamp's I've been meaning to read, hopefully, this book inspires me to get to them quicker, because...
HOLY CATS I LOVED THIS BOOK
I loved the characters, I loved the set-up and adventure, I loved the banter and the use of historically accurate slang, but maybe most of all I loved the fact that this was a non-traditional-for-YA m/m romance. Yes, sorry, full disclaimer readers, I'm a proud SJW because I'm not a shitty human being. And I really do love seeing gay and bi-sexual romances in as many different genres as possible, even if I'm not gay or bi-sexual. The fact that it's rolled into a Regency adventure makes this particular burrito that much cheesier and saucier and delectable – like knowing you're getting the cheesy bean & rice burrito, but not having to pay extra for the avocado. (In my wildest romantic fantasy, a rich and mysterious patron pays for my avocados and plays it off like that extra $1.30 is nothing. What a card! Only God can judge me, Y'all.) I'm sorry, I didn't mean to equate gay romance with a messy, difficult to eat lunch – or snack as it were. What I meant to say is, it always feels like a victory when I encounter one in the wild, so I want to throw it a party. Or at least tell everyone I know about it, regardless of if they share my same convictions or not.
The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue introduces us to 3 high-born English kids who aren't afraid to cause a ruckus wherever they go. Henry “Monty” Montague is our Rakish, foppish, bisexual, Dandy Lord. He oozes charisma and sass, and while it would be easy to hate him, you'll find that it is impossible to. Felicity is Monty's little sister – she's, well, she's a nerd. She has none of her brother's social-charms and plays the straight man in the trio, but that doesn't make her a stale character. Rather, she happens to be a huge fan favorite, and for good reason. Felicity may be a nerd, but she's no shrinking violet – she's a total badass. Her dream is to go to a proper school and train to become a doctor – an impossible dream for her because she's a She. And finally, we have Percy – Percy isn't necessarily high-born like the rest of our group because he his mother is black and was raised by his aunt and uncle, but he is very posh nonetheless. Also, while Felicity intends to attend a university, Percy intends to study music – the violin – in Europe. After Monty was kicked out of his college for... causing quite the stir, his father decides to send him on the traditional Grand Tour of Europe, having him chaperone his sister and best friend. Oh, did I mention he's in love with Percy? Well of course he is – and you will be too when you see what a perfectly adorable sweetheart Percy is.
Anyway, this is the only crowd I have ever heard of who can find themselves bummed out in Paris, and in an act of pettiness and recklessness, Monty steals something from Versailles for a hoot. Turns out, that was the wrong thing to do (who'd have guessed?) and it ended up having some major consequences. At any rate, our trio is separated from their party and their stale European romp is up-ended and diverted into a much more exciting adventure. There's pining! There are smooches! There's sibling bickering & bonding! Thrills and Spills! Have I hooked you yet?
When I say that my favorite thing about this book is probably the characters, I mean I really can't emphasize enough how great these characters are. I think I've mentioned that Monty might not seem likable at first to most readers because usually a character of his sort would be annoying and trashy. Whoever wrote those characters in the past must have done a bad job of it, and hadn't bothered to give their dandys' any credit. Monty is a pansy, but he's my pansy, and I love him. He's just a gay little shit who doesn't know when to give up and I'm fine with it because, at the end of the day, he has a lot of depth. He's not all zingy one-liners (though those are wonderful and I could easily sit here and talk about them for hours), he also has character growth. Is there anything more satisfying than watching a spoiled little turd of a main character become a stronger, more interesting and complex little turd? I'd say not!
Percy could use a little more depth and is sort of a damsel, but he's still an interesting character. I think the gender trope took a bit of a spin with him – this might be controversial, and I'm not saying that I'm asking for something different, I just want to state an observation. In a traditional romance, there's a Rake (Monty) and a Damsel (...Percy?). And in a traditional romance setting, we picture the Rake and Damsel to be Cis-Het, which is not the case here. Percy isn't helpless, but he does consider himself burdensome for reasons that would be spoiler-y to reveal, and so he's dependent on Monty – who is up for the challenge. I don't want to suggest that I think that trope is bad and gross; in actuality, I love seeing how far and in how many different directions writers can spin that old cliche out. Percy might depend on Monty for emotional support, but everyone can pretty much agree that Monty is useless in a fight. Percy at least has his violin case and he's not afraid to implement it.
And then there's Felicity. Oh, how I love, love, love Felicity. Those Monetigue kids don't back down, and she would be a divine pupil at Mademoiselle Geraldine's Finishing Academy for Young Ladies of Quality. Felicity, I've said before, doesn't have the same charms as her brother – he might tell you she has all the charm of a bulldog. But of all the characters, Felicity is the most concrete, fully formed personality. She's awkward at times, but she's not an awkward character. She's fantastic and solid and relatable, though that may also be because she's Ace and is trying hard to be taken seriously in a man's world – in a time and setting where she's meant to be both pretty and ignored. She might be very serious and straight-laced, but she's a bad bitch and I can't wait to hear more from her.
So, while I went into this book championing the fact that it was a YA Gay Gaslamp Romance, it really ended up standing on its own as and defied my expectations, which were already pretty hopeful, that it checked off all my marks and then some:
Historical accuracy without being boring and old-fashioned? ✔
Characters I really care about? ✔
Queer POC characters in Regency Europe? ✔
Sass?? ✔ ✔ ✔
So yes – sign me TF up for more.
This review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
On the surface this is about a boy who has the talent to become something forbidden and feminine: in this case, a witch.
I would add that I believe it's a thinly veiled parable for children who are exploring something internally that might cause them to regect gender norms of every kind.
You'd have to have a heart of stone to hate this comic.
have absolutely no idea what to make of this book or if I even liked it.
AHEM
A few years ago, I decided I really hated male authors. A lot of them are sleazy try-hards who think their stories about sad, aging old English professors who want to boink their cute, young students, or some kind of variation on that, are dying to be told. Again. Ad Nauseum. The old, “I keep getting older, but they all stay just the same!” (How does it not ever get old? I'm only 30 and everyone 5 years younger than me looks like an infant.) In this case, it's an alternative trope I find equally annoying and done to death to the point where I no longer find it at all compelling or enlightening: a bored, listless middle-aged woman who discovers that much younger “men” find her sexually attractive. (Hiiii!! 🙋 Just because it's an older woman and the boy in question is just barely 18 doesn't make it reek any less of pedophilia!) But on the opposite side of the same coin, I can see how it's definitely empowering for older women to have a younger boyfriend, especially when it's all too common – in fact, it's almost expected – to see older men with younger women. On the grounds of equality, I'm personally not comfortable seeing it regardless of gender, though the further away from the age of 18, the less skeezed out I feel.
The premise is very simple. A single, middle-aged Mom sends her (shitty) son to college and while she's kind of adrift stumbles into a world of pornography, which introduces her to a tepid world of sex. Her son, a misogynistic little brat, may have had the most character development while still remaining true to being a misogynistic little brat, which was at least interesting. Zero characters were likable, which some people enjoy and I apparently don't. A lot of people are divided with this book – some people loved it and clearly see something in it that I don't, and then there are people who are like me and just give it a big fat “nope.”
I really need you to pay attention to me: this isn't about my being a prude. This isn't about taking a dump on a fictionalized woman finding renewed sexuality. This is trying to be a timely comedy and just not doing a very good job of it. It felt like Perrota had an already tired old formula and a checklist of current trendy sexual “issues” to tick off, and he just went down the list. There was comedy? I didn't see any comedy. I guess comedy is hard, and I'll laugh at some pretty grim things.
All and all, I kind of hated this book. It may be opened my mind to a few ideas, but they were all things I've explored in one way or another and it still felt stale and dumb.
this review was originally posted on my blog, which can be found here
Early in college, I picked up my Mom's Sweet Potato Queen books and my life was forever altered. Jill Conner Browne hasn't written anything new since 2012, and I've obviously read everything she's written. Something new has to fill that void. Enter Jen Hatmaker – a Christian women's writer and podcaster recommended to me through my best friend's sister. I listen to her podcast on and off, “For the Love, With Jen Hatmaker,” but every time I do I end up thrilled to bits with the takeaway.
First, let me just say that I ran my eyes over some GoodReads reviews before actually writing my own, as I sometimes do. I like to read the lowest ratings first because sometimes they're amusing, sometimes they're disparaging, but often they're brief and totally misguided. Most of the people who hated this particular book found very uncreative ways to express their disgust that this was a “preachy” Christian book. It wasn't preachy, actually, though it was Christian. So let's get that part out of the way – this book is Christian. If you can find it in your heart to look past that, then you should be just fine. I can say that this book isn't preachy because apparently, I have very different ideas of what the word “preachy” means compared to some people. Are Jesus and prayer mentioned? Yes. Dogmatic instruction with threats of fire and Hellstone? ...No? This isn't even Jump-Down-Your-Throat “Get Good With God” Christianity. Honestly, if this is preachy, then I want to go to Jen's church.
of Mess and Moxie is like a friendly chat with girlfriends over wine or coffee or both. It's frank conversations about marriage and motherhood, but it doesn't make single, childless women like myself feel excluded. That's nice! Who knew it was even possible to enjoy someone else's children's antics without being made to feel a little worthless for not being part of that tribe? Truly. Jen Hatmaker leaves no stone unturned, and everything she says is at least somewhat relatable. Her casual voice might grate on some people who dislike people who aren't super serious all of the time, but if you can't laugh at yourself, then please leave.
I really, really enjoyed this book and immediately went out and ordered some of her other books, and have already recommended it out to other people I know (namely, my Mom. Make your mom read it, too.)
this review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
LISTEN HERE, SON, I love Avon romances. Avon... They just get me, ya know? They're so original and funny, and aware of their audience and... heck it, it's just nice to be pandered to for once. I'll read outside of my “cat-nip” just out of support because I'm so excited that Avon actually listens to what the modern romance reader wants to see more of. Even if it's not my particular... Interest? Like all romance readers, I have my genre “cat-nip” (Regencies, Victorians, and Fantasy), and from there, there are sub-genres. I LOVE a good twist on an old troupe. I love something that seems absurd on paper but is written with genuine care and heart. (I'm always looking for a rec, so if you can think of any, drop a line!) But no one is here to hear me beat a dead horse that is “Let's Defend Romance Novels!” It's tiresome to have that conversation over and over, and if you're already here, there's a good chance I can spare you that conversation and just talk about the book.
The Girl With The Make-Beleive Husband hasn't been out for more than a few months, and somehow it's managed to become one of those books that I have three different copies of. That is: ebook, paperback, and audiobook. This was before I'd even gotten around to reading it and is a testament to A) how excited I was about it and B) how disorganized I am.
Now, I love a good Regency. I haven't seen many that take place outside of England, so I thought a British Regency in Baby America was interesting. The Girl With The Make-Believe Husband is about Cecilia Harcourt, a girl who is stuck between options. Her ailing father has recently died, and her brother, a soldier fighting in the colonies, has gone missing. If she were to stay in England, her icky cousin would have to marry her. Not satisfied with this solution, she instead sails to America to find her brother, but instead finds herself in an awkward position where she must slip into a fiction – which is that she's married to her brother's best friend Edward Rokesby (whom she knows through letters), a handsome officer who is unconscious and needs her care. Upon his waking, Cecilia hems and haws about explaining the truth of the situation and just lets the falsehood ride out because Rokesby has lost some of his memory and can't confirm or deny any of Cecilia's claims.* Plus, it's not like he hadn't been attracted to her before he'd ever gotten the chance to meet her, or anything like that. It's not like he Wouldn't have married her, or anything like that. Not at all.
You know what? I was too hyped by this book and I still loved it. It wasn't as funny as I'd have liked – I think I was hoping for some slapstick (I'm always looking for slapstick in the wrong situations). I thought Cecilia and Edward's sneaky-sneaky “I know something You don't know” was a perfect set up for some rom-com shenanigans, but the deceptions were actually pretty big and high-stakes. So maybe this wasn't a rom-com at all. 😦
Whatever. The ending was perfect,** the story didn't bore or annoy me, and the epilogue makes me think I really need to read the rest of the series, like, NOW.
* – This is Romancelandia, and this kind of contrived situation is totally fine and encouraged.
** – Though Mrs. Finch can go f*ck herself.
this review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
One of the students at the school I work at is a huge fan of the Ranger's Apprentice series, and lent me her copy. As I understand it, it's an important and personal series for her. When someone, not casually, but insistantly, recommends a book to you I believe in hearing them out. It's the decent thing to do. Now, typically I make a point in returning borrowed books as quickly as I can. I know that's hard for a lot of people, but I make a point not to be that kid. And I'm here to tell you... I failed. Well, not really, because I did read her book and return it as soon as I'd finished it, but I held on to it for MONTHS before I did anything with it. And when I did finally read it, I just thought it was delightful!
So reviewing this book is going to be hard, because overwhelmingly, this series is already well loved. Even Good Reads reviewers agree (there are a few nay-sayers, but most of them are drowned out by the positive reviews and never made any original or convincing arguments for why they hated it), and I'm a big-time ignorer of Good Reads reviewers.
As some have pointed out, No. The premise isn't at all original for a fantasy novel – but I would argue that that's its charm. It's a Classic style fantasy novel. More to the point, this is a children's (middle grade) Classic style fantasy novel.
WHICH MEANS!!! It's a good way to introduce your kids to your favorite genre in a way that is accessible to them. As for me, I'm a 30-year-old woman and I still enjoyed it. I guess I just really miss a good old fashioned fantasy novel that doesn't knock the wind out of me the way “Adultier” fantasy series do. “The Ranger's Apprentice” series has its fans – and they are very devoted fans. We'll see where I stand among them the further I read into the series.
Ok – Will is an orphan, living with several other Castle Wards. At a certain age, all children get apprenticed out, after feeling out their natural talents. Among Will's group, almost everyone else is very obvious where their talents will lead them... except for Will. Will is kind of exceptionally unexceptional. Poor Will! Will's dream is to get into Battle School because he always heard that the father he'd never met was the bravest warrior. But Will isn't exactly... Let's put it this way, Battle School would chew him up and spit him out. Still, he's prepared to fight to get into Battle School. The Powers That Be have other ideas for him, and... Well, it's not a spoiler. Will becomes a Ranger's Apprentice. And I have High Hopes for Will The New Ranger's Apprentice. Something tells me he'll become the very best Ranger's Apprentice the world has ever seen. He'll become Hokage of his village!
Yeah, I really feel like this book would make a hit among Naruto fans if it isn't already. Halt is practically Kakashi, which is probably why he immediately became my favorite. (The only thing I found remarkable about Naruto in the last 15 or so years was Kakashi. Don't worry about it. That's a story for another time.)
this review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
I am studying French, and am always looking for some sort of glimpse into their culture. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this memoir reveals them to be very amorous. More so than we Americans, but not in any way that would be totally foreign to us. As I too am celebite, Sophie's anecdotes are familiar to me. Confessing my lack of sex-life will also be met with confusion, and will ALWAYS prompt some unsolicited over-sharing. I feel like Sophie handles it with more grace than I do, but perhaps not as I haven't written about it.
It's over all brief and a little disorganized, but still I'd recommend it to anyone who simply doesn't have sex, as a variety of perspectives are welcomed.
DC is doing this cool new series called “DC Icons”, of which this is the first, in which they hire popular YA authors to pen novels featuring beloved entities. The timing coincided with the “Wonder Woman” movie but continues with Batman, Catwoman, and eventually Superman. I wasn't sure what to expect from this book. It's toted as an origin story to Wonder Woman – I mean, we have Diana as a young Amazon on the island of Themyscira, but leaves in order to help... NOT- Steve Trevor? But a teenaged girl from New York named Alia Keralis. Which is ok, I guess.
By the way, there's absolutely no way that this book is canon, and I know for an absolute fact that in Wonder Woman, the “canon” play-book has been thrown out of the window multiple times. So that shouldn't bother me. And yet...
... And Yet I kind of hoped it would be. The whole point of hiring very good authors to write your franchise shouldn't cheapen it to a throwaway novel. I'm speaking, of course, as a fan and not as a business person. DC clearly doesn't care much about the integrity of their work, if you take into account most of the movies they've been peddling out lately, (Except for the Wonder Woman movie. Wonder Woman was everything.) and “the New 52.” (Though I loved Gail Simone's Batgirl and Batgirl of Burnside.) Once again, these are the deranged rants of a “fan.”
I still loved this book as a fan of Wonder Woman and Leigh Bardugo. So let me talk about what I liked about this book. I loved the description of the island of Themyscira. I was a little sad to have to leave it for New York. I also really loooooved all the relationships. How could I not? The friendships are genuine. The romantic attachments were everything I live for. So on its own, it's a pretty solid adventure novel. I just kind of wish it wasn't “On its own.”
This review was originally posted on my blog, which you can find here
This seems like a low rating, but I'm honestly being kind.
I have a handful of friends who love this series, but who aren't all necessarily huge readers. I talk about books all the time, so I wanted to have something new to talk about with them that They were already experts on. I've known about these books since I was in high school, but it never really appealed to me but finally, I'm at a point where I want something quick and fun to read: that's just what this was.
It's the first book in a loooong series, so I expect that there's more build up later on. The first book is just starting to lay the groundwork, so it's not very substantial. Though we do get a clue on Stephanie Plum's origin.
Ooph, This was heavy reading.
A true story of the racism & xenophobia the average Southerner and Red State resident experiences regularly after 9-11, and the wondrous grace of forgiveness. Early on, it makes you question where your sympathies should lie. I live surrounded by people who think akin to Mark Stroman, though certainly not as obviously hateful or inclined to hurt - so it's possible to humanize him. I felt uncomfortable admitting that I was capable of empathizing with him, and wondered why the author chose to allow us to not dismiss him as merely a horrible criminal. Then it all came together in the end.
Obviously Raisuddin Bhuiyan is the true hero of the story - Someone all Americans can learn a very big moral & spiritual lesson from. He is absolutely inspirational.
I thought the early chapters were a bit tedious to get through (once again, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was the point the author was trying to make) but midway through everything comes together so wonderfully.
I thought this collection of short stories about often times petty housewives was actually pretty funny. Dark and dry with occasionally twisted endings. “This Novel Is Brought To You By Tampax” is the sort of story I'd share with my friends under the dinner table. My gathering of friends would get a good laugh at Paula Deen breaking into our houses to force us to write more.