Carla

Disclaimer: Jonathan and I are friends.

This audiobook, narrated by Matt Godfrey, blew me away. It also got me through the tail end of 21 days of Covid, in which I struggled to concentrate properly and correctly on the written word. Jonathan's storytelling carried me away to the mind and world of an angry but caring teenager who just wants to protect his little sister and date his crush. But he's thwarted by an escaped child killer and...something else in the woods.

This book is so evocative that I could see everything just as it happened...even if I didn't want to. It's terrifying and dark and fast and amazing. 

I live on a mountain, surrounded by woods. I'm not going outside for a while.

I am reviewing this book for Cemetery Dance in my position as an early reviewer, so I must note I was given this book in exchange for an honest review.

This is a tremendous throwback to Gothic tales of the time of Shelley, Stoker, and Poe...but with the gusto, action, and profanity of today. It's the perfect blend of Gothic romance (“I just met you, and this is crazy, but marry me, maybe”), Gothic dread, and gnarly horror. What a delightful mix. I read it in one sitting.

I have to disclose that not only am I a Cemetery Dance early reviewer, but Jonathan is a friend of mine. But this is an unbiased review, for his writing blows me away. It's terrifying and claustrophobic and chilling and gory and just the perfect thing for a chilly October night.

And look at that perfect, gorgeous throwback cover!

1.5 stars.

Autobiographies are risky. People fib about themselves, either on purpose or unconsciously. They go in tangents in or to brag or hide.

Hall spends a great deal of this book telling us how amazing her birth family is—they stomped all over Europe and she pretended to be an oracle on the moors of Scotland while other kids were in school—when they actually weren't—they were judgmental and verbally abusive. I didn't want to spend that much time reading about the Marvelous Mighty Halls, or about how Sands Hall is an Educated Talented Writer. I wanted to read about Scientology's effect upon a person. I got very little of that in a quite long book. I'm returning it to Audible.

Side note: I now know all about Sands' time on Guiding Light, but it's not in the IMDb. Odd.

Enchanted by this brutal and gripping religious horror, one of my favorite subgenres. Incredible worldbuilding. I am chronically ill and disabled, and the imagery of this world made me forget about high levels of pain for long stretches at a time. Thrilled to find out just now that it has an upcoming sequel!

The idea of this book is splendid—the worksheet to organize each sweater you are knitting. I am going to use it going forward. There are strong and clear instructions for how to choose yarn, how to adjust gauge and choose size and yarn for comfort, and other such tips that aren't usually given. 
However...each pattern is knitted in speciality yarn that cannot duplicated by the reader—dyed by the author, found by the author at a wool exposition, etc. Also, the book is quite difficult to read, written in light grey on cream-colored paper. 
And the patterns are not written for a new knitter, even though the beginning of the book is geared toward a beginner. They are written conversationally: “work as up and down construction sweater, and then...”. It would be overwhelming had I never knitted before.

The case is so incredibly convoluted, and so many details were included (it's more than 600 pages long), that it almost wasn't enjoyable at all.

This is a dense, academic read, not recommended for the layperson unaccustomed to academia. The conclusion almost lost me, with its incredibly long, compounded sentences and few paragraph breaks. It felt like the author was taking a last stand at the lectern and wasn't taking too many breaths.

I finished this on the eve on the latest elementary school shooting in America. Whitman was the first modern school shooter, more than 50 years ago—“an inveterate liar” who, when discovered, took out his feelings of shame on his mother, his wife, and his fellow students. He shot for two hours, and was prepared to shoot for days. He also was able to shoot way beyond the barricades the police set up in estimate of his firepower for public safety. No one in America should be able to lay down that kind of weaponry against their fellow Americans—especially students, going to class.

True crime is supposed to be, in part, a lesson for the future. What can we do better? How can we keep assaults and murders from happening again? We've learned nothing when it comes to public mass shootings, especially school shootings. This one could substitute for Virginia Tech—manifestos, barricades, malignant narcissism, someone who should not possess firearms. And so on. 

I'm so tired.

Excellent read in my 50th year.

Not half as good as Baby Jane. This felt as if he wrote it in mind to be filmed.

I won this in a Goodreads Giveaway and agreed to review it honestly in return.
I loved how often this book directly addressed chronic illness and pain. I felt seen and heard. It was the perfect companion to Lent.

Werewolves are my favorite monster, and the language is lovely and lyrical, so I really enjoyed it, and I will continue with the series eventually (looks like there's only a second one). I only scored it three stars out of five because of the bestiality. It was gratuitous and strange. The mani characters only had sex when he was a werewolf; they never consumated their relationship as two humans, only as a human female and a male werewolf. And it was graphic. Graphic and hairy and slobbery. It was so pretty, and frightening, with these amazing ideas about the nature of good and evil, and then that would happen. I'm no prude, but I don't like when my horror makes me uncomfortable around my dogs.

There are codes to solve within this text, as well as mysteries and references referring back to both House of Leaves and Poe's companion album Haunted.

A terrifying, ergodic meditation on what it means to write—and consume—true crime.

This is a book about shame, and how we do, or don't, handle it.

This is a book about shame, and how we do, or don't, handle it.

Download every one of her books she narrated. Even when the subject matter is dangerous and painful, like Beloved, her voice made me feel that warm, safe, storytelling feeling of having my mother or my elementary school librarian read to me as a child—that magic, storytelling feeling.

This is an unsafe ghost story. It will take you places you might not be ready to go, emotionally and historically. This is a reread, and I still feel worn out upon finishing it. But it is also a Great American Novel, and o say that without hyperbole. I was lucky enough to study it at Yale—my first read. Now I simply come to it the second time as a reader. I am enraptured and heart-rendered.

The beginning was strong and all about self-confidence and self-knowledge, then he tells some awful stories about both of his parents...but we are supposed to still align with and even celebrate his parents? which doesn't feel good. The second half is interesting stories about his career and his wandering a. The last third is arrogant and pretentious dribble. I hate to say that, because I still love him. But I finished it thinking what did I just read? And that's not how you should feel upon finishing a book, especially a memoir. If I didn't feel shook finishing Anne Heche's memoir, which is literally called Call Me Crazy, I shouldn't feel that way reading his. But the last twenty pages or more were not memoir but rather  I Am Your Guru, and they didn't feel good, and they tainted the rest of the book.

I would rate this higher, but it was difficult to discern which character was speaking—the transitions were abrupt, and there was no introduction or allusion to which character was now in charge of the story. This made for a sometimes confusing read/listen.

Uneven in one regard: the section on JonBenet Ramsey. I thought in reading another book by Douglas that he has a blind spot with regards to this case, and this book cements that feeling for me. The rest of this book is very professional and unbiased; the JonBenet chapter is biased (he calls Lou Smit a “hero”!) and sarcastic. He also makes statements without evidence, such as mothers and fathers would never do x or y. Interesting...but very frustrating.

Reread—read the expanded and updated edition edition this time (as of 2019–narrated by the author). You cannot read this and come away believing he didn't do it. Horrifying.

Also learned that his body dysmorphia extended to anorexia: when he was arrested, he weighed 120 pounds. His is the ultimate case of surrounding yourself with yes men—he created a world in which he could do whatever he wanted, and it not only destroyed lives, but destroyed his body and led to his death.

John Lithgow is a marvelous audiobook narrator.

Reread—read the expanded and updated edition edition this time (as of 2019–narrated by the author). You cannot read this and come away believing he didn't do it. Horrifying.

Also learned that his body dysmorphia extended to anorexia: when he was arrested, he weighed 120 pounds. His is the ultimate case of surrounding yourself with yes men—he created a world in which he could do whatever he wanted, and it not only destroyed lives, but destroyed his body and led to his death.

Fascinating and truly original idea that unfurls its secrets slowly. Bronson Pinchot's narration is absolutely superb.

I am glad I read this, but I have denominational disagreements with the doctrine of the author (I'm Episcopalian, for what it's worth). This book felt like it was coming from an evangelical, strict and literal reading of the Bible, so I did not jive with some passages. Also, l am not one who puts Easter and Jesus' death all over Christmas; many Christians do, and this author did, and I found that a little off-putting. You would not believe how many Advent devotionals talk at great length about his crucifixion. 
Some good nuggets here, but frankly I recommend The First Christmas: What the Gospels Really Say About Jesus' Birth, by Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossman, both highly educated theologians that wrote their book not to preach but to educate and to learn.