Amity
This is a quiet little novel about dealing with grief. Sunday doesn't want her father to die, but it is a certainty that he doesn't have much time left. To ensure that he lives on forever in some way, she is using her considerable technological skills to create a computer virus based off of recordings of her father: his jokes, his wisdom, his everyday musings. As the novel progresses, you get glimpses of the rest of her family - primarily her little brother and her mother - and how they are dealing with his imminent death as well.
Sunday's relationship with her father is obviously the drawing point here. Despite the briefness of the novel, Comeau establishes all members of the family really well, and their relationships with one another make you feel their pain at losing this man. It also has some darkly funny bits, due to the jovial personality of the dad:
“Don't be stupid,” he says. “Of course we have to. This is research for when you write my obituary. Who else could I trust with this? Sunday, I am counting on you to not let anyone say that I died surrounded by nameless loved ones. Or that I lost my courageous battle with cancer.”“I'll tell people you won,” I promise him.“Exactly!” He laughs. I love it when my father laughs. “You tell people that. The cancer is dead. I did what needed to be done. I'm a hero.”
The inevitable happens without preamble: there are no heroic last words, no fanfare, no clues left behind to uncover some hidden mystery; it just...happens, and you know it's going to happen, and it still punches you in the gut anyway. Proof that you don't always need an excessive amount of pages to make you care, you just need the right words. 4/5
This was a perfect poolside book. This maybe sounds like an insult, but it was exactly what I was looking for in a summer read: a compelling page-turner to accompany my chlorine-and-sunscreen scented surroundings.
The twists and turns weren't as twisty-and-turny as I would have liked, and the ending gets a little silly, but the setting and themes - office politics, the world of publishing, maintaining a relationship with your family while trying to fulfill your own passions - these all worked well, and just enough crazy happens to keep you invested. 3.5/5
I'm going to make a bold statement: more books for children should feature cannibalism.
I've been trying to broaden my reading range by adding more middle-grade books in my rotation, and this was a good one for me, as it has a sense of humor that is equal parts goofy and kind of dark:
“My great-great-grandfather was Shannon Wilson Bell.”“Uh-oh,” I said. Now it was starting to make sense. “He was one of the guys Alferd ate.”Mary nodded. “Gosh, I'm sorry, Mary. I always knew there was something weird about me. I guess it goes back a long way. Wow, I'm really sorry.” What else could I say? What does any guy say to the girl he's crushing on when he finds out his family ate hers for dinner? This could be a real relationship buster.
So Ferrell's ancestor ate Mary's great-great-grandfather, and Mary isn't too concerned about that, but she is concerned that the new kid in school is going to reveal this secret to everyone, which would 1) make everyone think Ferrell is some kind of freak, and 2) contribute to her peers' (nonexistent) belief that Mary is a loser. Ferrell, who has been friends with Mary since they were babies and suddenly has realized that hey, girls are kind of cute, Mary in particular, begrudgingly decides to challenge said New Kid to a sled race in order to keep their family secret, well, secret.
You know, that age-old story.
Gill has crafted a really sweet, funny novel that deals with a topic most would consider taboo, and I applaud him for that. I also applaud him for the creation of Ferrell, who is just the most precious and relatable protagonist:
“Mary brought me the bucket of melting snow, and I drank with my cupped hands. I wished we had some Kool-Aid to pour into it. Water is so boring and useless without sugar.”
You might as well be reading my mind every time I drink water, really.
Anyway, a solid entry onto my (currently, sadly) minimal middle-grade shelf, but I can't imagine I'll be reading too many other books like this one. 4/5 cannibal ancestors.
In Bridget Morrissey's debut novel, we examine the intersecting lives of Martin and Petra, graduating high school seniors who meet at their graduation due to the magic of alphabetical seating. They flirt, it's cute, and despite Petra's reservations, she decides to take him up on his offer to go to his graduation party. When she and her friends arrive, however, the house is empty, and they find out the horrible truth: Martin and his best friend ducked out of graduation early and were in a terrible car accident, and Martin is just barely alive. Despite not knowing him at all, Petra becomes entangled in his life through extraordinary means, and the story unfolds to examine how influential even the smallest of connections on our lives can be.
The premise of this book was intriguing, and Morrissey can craft some lyrical, poignant lines, but this story just did not work for me. Part of it was related to my own expectations of a pseudo-Dear Evan Hansen plot, where Petra simply becomes involved in his life post-accident due to some hidden truths that spiral out of control, rather than the magical realism of dream-hopping, ghosty Martin that actually happened. But another part of it is the way the plot is structured: we're barely given time to get to know Martin before the accident - which I realize is kind of the point, but made my feelings toward his perilous situation kind of blah, and sad only in that surface-level, but-he's-so-young sort of way - and the repetition of the alternating POVs/dream sequences only offer a cursory glimpse into who he is to all of his loved ones. As a result, I thought he fell sort of flat, and I was more interested in Petra's story, especially her connection with her friends and how she feels (not unfairly) that she is not living up to the expectations of her family. Again, since the POV is alternating, and since so much time is spent on dream sequences - and then condensed, summarized versions of said dream sequences spoken aloud to other characters - we're not given a full picture of that, either.
I'm not one against magical realism, but this is one story I think could have functioned better without the fantastical elements. I suppose I was looking for something more akin to Paper Towns, where Petra and her friends unspool the threads of Martin's life and get to know him, or at least their perception of him, as his life hangs in the balance, but it is more similar to If I Stay or Before I Fall. I enjoy all those books for different reasons, but this one failed to meet the caliber of any of them for me.
I know this review may seem overwhelmingly negative, but I didn't hate this book at all. There were a lot of things I liked about it, first and foremost Petra and her friends, as I stated; I also loved the acknowledgment that even people you love most in the world don't always know how best to comfort you or fix a situation, and that teachers/parents/adults can often screw up when trying to help kids, no matter how well-intentioned they are. This is something any kid can tell you, naturally, but it's always good to have a reminder that none of us actually know what we're doing.
I'll read more of Morrissey's work in the future, but for this one, I'm giving a 2.5/5, rounded up for potential and awareness of my own skewed expectations.
The subject matter makes this a tough book to review; it's horrifying, and you feel for Lakshmi. The writing is sparse and lovely, then sparse in a way that makes the reader fill in the horrendous blanks of what's going on between the words, so to speak.
The ending, though...it definitely has some "white savior" elements to it, and while I'm glad that there was an implied happy end in the horizon for Lakshmi, I wasn't 100% into the way it played out. Overall, a powerful read. 3.5/5 rounded up.
Apparently I'm going to read this approximately every two years! Nora/Pez/June is the true OT3 of our dreams. Still 4 out of 5, still cute, still here for the kissing.
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Y'all, this book was so dang cute!
Okay, so here's the thing: if someone talks to me for more than 5 minutes, they will realize I am a giant, sappy romantic, the kind of person who believes true love conquers all and other such nonsense things. This is the flip-side to my horror-obsessed, gothy self. I am a study in opposites! Such a complex woman!
The point is, while I don't often gravitate toward romance novels - fanfic is generally where I get my sappy romance fix - I am most assuredly a sucker for a cute love story. And Alex and Henry are actually the cutest? I am 100% here for all the enemies-to friends-to lovers tropes, and their developing friendship is so adorable. Any relationship based on relentless teasing will instantly destroy my heart.
I cannot believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.
Henry heaves another almighty sigh. He's always sighing when Alex is involved. It's amazing he has any air left.
That is the kind of flirting I am here for!
There are a lot of other things I liked about this novel outside of the love story: Alex has a really strong friendship with his sister, June, and I love the idyllic world where a remarried, Democratic woman with biracial children from her previous marriage is president.
There were problems, of course, the main issue being that the writing was often very “tell” and not “show” which made the dialogue occasionally clunky, but who cares? I'm here for the kissing. 4/5 adorable, kissy stars.
Every few years in the town of Pender – around Halloween, of course – a kid goes missing, only to be later found dead. Adults are quick to dismiss it as a train accident, overdosing, meeting a bad end after running away. Is this the case, or is it the fabled Mumbler, the ancient evil who lives in the marshes and feeds on children? Clara, the new kid in town, gets fed both stories and maintains a healthy dose of skepticism, but strange occurrences, more missing kids, and a dreamy guy might just make her change her mind...
This book had such a great premise, and was certainly not poorly written, but man-oh-man did it falter toward the end. The kind of faltering that makes the pseudo-meandering nature of the story even more frustrating. There were a lot of positives, but it failed to stick the landing.
The biggest positive, in my opinion, is Clara herself. I liked her as a main character and thought her musings on friendship, school, and family were realistic and well-written. I especially loved her close, yet occasionally prickly, relationship with her parents, which is reminiscent of my own relationship with my parents (ah, the joys of being an only child).
I also liked the description of Pender, and where Clara lives specifically:
I swear I've been here before. Not Birchwood Terraces, exactly, but other developments like it, named after the trees cut down to build the place: Oakfield, Elm Park, Spruce Way. We've moved three times in four years, and twice when I was in elementary school, following Dad's construction work, but somehow, we always end up right here.
Clearly, French is a talented writer, but it seemed like she had an allotted number of words for the book and used most of them on Clara's developing relationship with Kincaid, and not enough on the development of the Mumbler plot/the ending. 2.5/5, rounded down for the wasted opportunity.
While there is nothing wrong with sports books, they are just not my proverbial cup of tea, and while sports are definitely an important part of the narrative, to call Ghost a sports book would be disingenuous. Reynolds manages to capture that feeling of being a kid so well that, even if you don't relate to his particular set of circumstances, you will immensely relate to him. And that's important, because while our circumstances and experiences may shape us, it is ultimately up to us how we define ourselves. As Coach so wisely and succinctly says:
“You can't run away from who you are, but what you can do is run toward who you want to be.”
And on that note, I love the ending: Does Ghost win? That's not important. What's important are the steps he made to get to where he is; he is, both literally and figuratively, running toward the person he wants to become.
Just give all the awards to Jason Reynolds, please. Not just the bookish ones. Give him an Oscar or two while you're at it, just for good measure. 4/5
In my quest to find good YA horror, I think I have discovered that I was simply reading the wrong books. Because man oh man, I really liked this one.
Teenage Silla and her young sister Nori have escaped from their abusive father in London, and have found themselves living in the middle of the forest in their Aunt Cath's dilapidated manor, La Baume. Much like Hill House and the Overlook Hotel, La Baume has its own personality and agenda. Add in a family curse, the threat of World War 3, a monster called the Creeper Man, and a mysterious-yet-dreamy boy, and basically you've written a book just for me. It even has a creepy library as the “safe” zone! I love creepy libraries!
The library is a monolith. Central to La Baume in the way the heart is to a human body. It's a semicircular room, three floors high - a cylinder cut right through the middle of the manor. Standing in the center, you can look right up through each floor and the skylight to see the sky. It's a sanctuary, but even here, the oppression of the house is all around, trying to press in.
It's also a book that does not allow you to forget how bleak everything is. “Hopeless” and “hopelessness” are repeated words for a reason. If depictions of starvation and sanity slippage, plus visuals of maggots and mold growing on skin and clothes bother you, then definitely don't read this book. This imagery, and some of the plotting around the middle of the book, do get a little too repetitive, but I think it fits well for the pay off.
About that ending...the whole "dead all along" thing was not much of a surprise, and it's certainly not a new concept, so I get why it's so divisive to people. I didn't mind it, though, and thought the emotional payoff of Silla forgiving herself made up for it. I'm also kind of a sucker for sappy romance, and as such thought that Gowan and Silla reuniting (and vowing to find each other when they returned to Earth) was sweet. I do wonder if Silla would actually want to redo life without a chance to have Nori do the same, though, so that was maybe a bit out of character?
All of that aside, I really found this book to be a good little slice of horror and psychological thriller, and it definitely made me more afraid of trees than The Happening ever did, so: 4/5.
Welp.
First, I'd like to say that our protagonist, Ethan, reminds me of Holden Caufield. He really does. He has that angst about him, not to mention his loving relationship with his precocious little sister.
The writing was conversational and easy to digest, which was kind of surprising for a book dealing with such a dramatic backstory. There's certainly plenty of drama here, but it was surprisingly low-key throughout, considering.
That ending, though. I don't think I've been this angry about an ending since How I Met Your Mother. I'm still going to give this 3/5 for keeping me interested enough to finish it in basically one sitting, but I won't be surprised if I get irrationally upset about this in a week or so and change the rating.
From the literal title and literal cover image, I should have seen this coming, but...meh. The mystery is obvious, the characters are flat, and there was some weird victim blaming happening too. And don't even get me started on its depiction of mental illness.
The only reason I'm bumping it up to a 2 is because I liked that the kids screw up multiple times on who they think the killer is, so they're at the very least not infallible geniuses. The lead detective chastises them by saying they keep "seeing one and one and adding it them up to eleven," and I love that. Of course, they end up being closer to the truth than he does, so.
Overall, it might benefit from some marketing changes and have it aimed toward a different audience, but it was definitely a 1.5/5 read for me.
Oh hey, once upon a time I read books not assigned to me from school! But I am free from the shackles of grad school until I decide to get another master's degree and go further into unending debt so I thought I would start updating this again! And maybe start reading again? Who knows what the future holds??
Beyond my general love of all animals, I was never a Horse Girl™ but had I read this at a more impressionable age, I probably would have been converted. As always, Maggie Stiefvater utilizes her way with evocative language to really draw me into the settings and care for this dangerous-yet-beautiful water horses (and of course, sweet Dove).
First person is hit or miss, especially with alternating POVs, but I thought it was handled fairly well in this book. I definitely liked Puck more than Sean though; angry girls who want to spit at people and are fiercely dedicated to their family are my jam.
I definitely recommend reading this in November/whenever the weather is grey and gloomy and miserable out, to get the full effects of Thisby as a place and as a character. While I didn't get into it as much as my beloved Raven Cycle, it was still an overall well-written book. 3/5 stars
The first word to come to mind when thinking of this book is “frustrating.” It's a well-written and gripping debut, but there were times my suspension of disbelief was stretched a little too thin. Still, an interesting look at the nature of reality TV and human survival.
However, here is a major complaint from me that comes from personal preferences of tropes used in fiction: just communicate, people. I know Zoo/Mae/Sam is not being receptive, but tell her it was a dang dog and not her husband that was dead in the bed, Brennan!
Otherwise, it was a pretty good read. I especially liked the Reddit threads, though they probably weren't nearly racist or sexist enough to be considered wholly realistic. Overall, 3/5
This is really a 4.5/5 because I didn't actually care for how some of the plot threads were resolved and I thought that Henry, though a fun character, was a bit shoehorned in, but goodness Stiefvater is so talented at making characters complex and wonderful. All the characters are fantastic, both as individuals and in relation to one another. Ronan and Adam are my favorites (and have been since book 1) so naturally I always cared more about their storylines and POV chapters, but pretty much everyone was great. Blue and Gansey are adorable and heartbreaking. Maura and Gray Man are adorable and heartbreaking. Just about everything in this book is equal turns adorable and heartbreaking.
I'm so happy there is going to be a sequel trilogy but it is unfair that they aren't all out right now and in front of me? Rude.
Can I give 1 million out of 5 stars for the blessing that is the characters of Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish existing? Such great character development. Such beautiful prose.
Almost equally as great are the characters of Blue Sargent and Richard Gansey III. And the Gray Man. And Maura? And everyone?? Somehow the villains are lovable and delightful too? How. What. Words?
4.5/5, bumped down a little because I wanted more Ronan POV. I'm a greedy gus that way.
This was rather good, though I personally felt the ending faltered out a little bit. I can imagine, though, that it is hard to wrap up a story like this one, and I appreciate that it wasn't a tidy, “everyone-lived-happily-ever-after” ending with all loose ends tied up. Still, it's a story I'll want to visit again, knowing how it all plays out, and that is an accomplishment on its own. 4/5
This book made me cringe, but not in a bad way. More in a “I remember what it's like to try to fit in and worry about how your family looks to others,” and I felt for Margot even in the times where she made me want to slap her. I feel I would have enjoyed this book more with an increased focus on her relationship with Elizabeth, but I appreciate that not everything was tied up with a nice bow at the end of the novel. Life is messy, and Margot's life is no exception. 3/5
I read this for a book review assignment, so I'm going to be lazy and just post that assignment here, with hopes that if my professor sees it she will realize that I am not plagiarizing some rando nobody on Goodreads and am, in fact, the same Amity that she knows from class.
Seventeen-year-old Ariel is finally settling down after years living on the road with her abusive-yet-charming father. With this newfound stability, Ariel begins to explore her identity, with a focus on her burgeoning feelings for her best friend, Monica. Confusing Ariel even further is her attraction to Gabe, the nephew of her father's latest conquest: through free-verse inner monologue – a staple of Hopkins' work – Ariel must navigate her feelings for both friends. Sections of Ariel's life are broken up by the prose narrative of Maya, another seventeen-year-old who escapes her abusive, Scientology-obsessed mother by running off with an older soldier after she gets pregnant; however, she soon finds out that she may have left one bad situation for another. The lives of Ariel and Maya intersect in ways that careful readers may pick up on before the ultimate reveal, and these intersections genuinely pull what could be considered a bloated novel together.
Hopkins' free-form verse makes this seemingly hefty book a comparably quick read, and some sections truly read like poetry. Unfortunately, her dialogue can seem stilted and unnatural in comparison to the lyrical inner monologue she crafts. This exchange, for instance, is between Ariel and Gabe, when Ariel is telling him she may be bisexual:
“I've never actually tried either boys or girls, but truthfully, I seem to be attracted to both. I've got an excellent friend who happens to be a lesbian, and our relationship is very close to love at this point, but whether or not that will become sexual, I don't know”
Comparing the above line to the following bit of verse illustrates the difference in Hopkins' writing:
“Sometimes I wonder if I am
only flesh, bone, and blood, or might
I be a spark of stellar fire, carried
through time on the tail of astral wind?”
Regardless of dialogue, fans of Hopkins' other works should enjoy this latest outing. All of her signatures are there: poetry, a myriad of pressing issues (sexuality, identity, homophobia, and the 9/11 attacks are just some of the topics covered), and complicated family dynamics; all that's missing is a catchy one-word title like Crank or Impulse.
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3.5/5; it was good, as all of her stuff is, and the fact that it is based on parts of her real life experience is tragic and I'm glad she is raising awareness of the issues presented in the narrative. It didn't connect with me, but I'm glad it exists.
