Erin
I listened to the audio version of this novel. The narrator did a great job with the reading, and it was an enjoyable novel to experience. It may be because I'm not in the target age range, but I was definitely not as enamored with the novel as I suspect I would have been as a teenager. The issues that the main character copes with are certainly not fresh or new, but neither are they insignificant. King handles them deftly, and only loses me with some of the characterization. The main character is highly analytical, and I wonder if King herself was that way as a kid, because all of the highly analytical kids I hung out with were also highly emotional. Astrid doesn't come off as being incredibly emotional. I did like that she struggled to figure out how to express her emotions, because goodness knows highly analytical kids do over-think things. But the emotions themselves weren't fleshed out or explored nearly as much as Astrid's fascination with Socrates. One of the strengths of this novel was the magical realism, which usually feels completely superfluous to me. In this case, some of it was superfluous, but the presence of Astrid's imaginary Frank Socrates served its purpose well, giving us some insight into the things she felt utterly incapable of figuring out on her own.
I might recommend this to some of the highly analytical kids that I know, especially since King explores the role of labels, as inaccurate as they can be, and the purpose that labels serve in life. I find that kids like me tend to reject labels when they aren't entirely accurate, but it's true that they do serve a purpose, and that purpose is worthy of discussion. Ultimately, I just wish that we had spent more time with Astrid after her coming out, as she grapples with her chosen label and with conveying her own truth to those who love her. The hardest part, the part that people often fear, is not the actual moment of coming out, but the aftermath. I wish we had stuck around long enough to see more of that aftermath and how she handles it. Ultimately, this isn't the book I had hoped it would be. I think it might have been a more interesting story if we had started with the big moment that served as the catalyst to her coming out, rather than saving that for the last half of the book.
Tl;dr: It was enjoyable, but isn't for everyone.
Highly recommended. I've read a lot of diet and nutrition books over the years while trying to figure out how to best manage my various food-related health issues, and some have worked better than others. The thing is, they all tend to be extreme versions of whatever it is that they are, and that ends up turning me off considerably. The author of Foodist avoided that kind of nutritional zealotry and zeroed in on things that just make sense to me. I know there are some people out there who see the organic and local food movement as its own kind of zealotry, and... well, I don't care. It's not an argument I care to participate in. The author, however, is very passionate about this argument, and yet still manages to temper her passionate point of view with a healthy level of respect for people who disagree. I have a lot of respect for someone who can do that.
The nutrition advice itself was spot-on when compared to my own personal experiences. While I can't quote the same kind of scientific articles and experience that she can, I can say that her advice really struck a chord with me. When I do the things she encourages, they work. I feel better. It's really as simple as that. The thing is, so much of what she says, while it makes sense logically, is contradicted all over the place in popular nutrition. This is bound to be a hang-up for a lot of people.
Ultimately, the author's writing was very accessible and easy to read. She explained the science very well, and succeeded in keeping the writing fresh and interesting. I don't remember getting bored or feeling bogged down by the details at all. The book itself seems geared towards people like me who need to lose weight, or who have health problems related to nutrition. While the advice in it is sound, those who are looking for nutrition information regarding gaining weight might get bored or frustrated reading through all the things related to weight loss. It is still light years ahead of other nutrition books in this aspect, even with the imbalance. The author's focus is on being healthy, and she does include information and tips on what can be done to help with necessary weight gain as well. A fair amount of the book is devoted to rethinking the way we approach weight management and diets, and was easily applicable to anyone of any weight, and especially to those with medical conditions not related to weight.
I think everyone can find something of interest in here, but I think I will ultimately end up recommending it to my friends and loved ones with chronic conditions for whom conventional nutritional approaches have not worked.
I bought this book in the wake of the SFWA kerfuffle about science fiction romance, and I'm very happy I did. This isn't normally something I'd pick up, mostly because I read a limited amount of science fiction, limited largely to my favorite feminist science fiction authors.
This novel is both solidly science fiction and solidly romance. It was enjoyable and the universe that the author constructed was interesting and engaging. I'd love to see another novel in this universe that focuses more on the question of how and why a person is selected to come back as a “ghost” alien. (Mind you the ghosts are alive and corporeal. They call them ghosts for a different reason.)
If you like science fiction and/or romance this is a good place to start off if you want to see how they get blended together. It's borderline erotica, but pretty tame, and definitely straight, so that's something to be aware of if you have strong preferences regarding that.
This was just not my favorite John Green novel. It was clunky in places, and I disliked the character, Alaska, enough to want to put it down sometimes. In fact, I did put it down periodically. I usually will race right through a John Green novel as fast I can, because I enjoy them, but in this case I kept forgetting that I hadn't finished it yet. I am happy to note that this is John Green's first published novel, and his writing only gets better from here.
I didn't really think I'd connect well with this novel, for reasons that are unclear to me, and obviously completely misguided anyway. Why must John Green do this me? And now, with friends working with him! In all seriousness, it was a delightful read and an insightful exploration of the nature of friendship, love, and radical truth-telling.
There are two Will Graysons. They have a chance meeting late one night in Chicago. One Will Grayson is best friends with Tiny Cooper, and upon meeting up in Chicago, the other Will Grayson ends up falling in love with Tiny Cooper. It turns out, this story isn't so much about either Will Grayson, despite the fact that they share alternating point of view. Tiny Cooper is the real star of the show, acting at once as the mirror that the Wills see themselves in, as the comic relief, and as the source of the courage that each Will needs to be radically honest with themselves. Tiny Cooper excels at what neither Will Greyson is good at–being unabashedly, unapologetically, and unflinchingly himself, publicly, and with enthusiasm.
Tiny Cooper is the optimism and the hope and the resilience that we all hope to have in adulthood. He still experiences pain, and life is almost never completely easy for him (save for the fact that his parents are rich), and he is far from perfect, but he has not given up nor given in. One Will Grayson has dealt with his pain and suffering by erecting a wall around himself consisting of a couple of rules, among them: do not care, and don't say anything. With these rules, he hopes to save himself from the trouble that inevitably ensues whenever he does care or does speak up. In essence, he chooses not to feel. The other Will Grayson takes a different approach. Finding himself unable to shut off the flow of pain and anger, he takes medication for clinical depression, and he pushes away everyone who loves him. If he can't stop feeling this way, he figures, he should at least keep other people from having to suffer with him. In these three characters, we have a moving meditation on what we can do with heartbreak.
This is also a meditation on the nature of friendships. Early in the novel one of the Will Graysons shares that old adage (by way of his father) that “You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose.” He then goes on to prove it wrong. It's a corny line, and a funny scene, but the bit of truth within it is profound–that we really do not choose our friends. We find our friends, and sometimes they find us, and sometimes we don't even really know how we found each other. But we do not pick them, as if they were t-shirts we could just shove in a drawer until we want them. Friends are neither choosable, nor expendable.
It is Tiny Cooper that really brings this message home in the end, however. It is through his eyes that we see the history he and his friend, Will Grayson, have, and the importance of that history. History alone isn't enough to sustain a friendship when it's broken, but it can be enough to motivate a heartfelt reconciliation when both parties are brave enough to be radically honest with themselves first.
This is a book about love: parental love, friendly love, romantic love, but most of all complicated, messy, human love.
I was very reluctant to read this book, I have to admit. I have loved every John Green novel I've read thus far, but this one is about cancer. Kids with cancer, in point of fact. I've already spent enough of my life thinking about cancer, so I was reluctant to read this. I didn't want to think about cancer, and I really didn't want to dislike John Green if he happened to do the stereotypical cancer novel. Usually it's either inspirational cancer books where the hero with cancer is brave and kind until the end, or it's the kind of cancer novel that spends far too much time dwelling on the pain and the anger and the anguish. None of them get it quite right, so it's a genre that I avoid.
I'm happy to say that John Green got it right. He didn't make the heroes out to be mythologically brave and kind. Nor did he write his characters so that they were in a constant state of pain and anguish. No, he made them human. He gave them good days, and bad days, and boring days, and exhilarating days. The people around them reacted the way people react when someone they know has cancer. Some left altogether, not knowing what to say, or not wanting to intrude, but nonetheless sending the message that they didn't care enough to deal with the discomfort of not having the right words or the right deeds to make it better. Some clung to inspirational platitudes, and to a hope that not everyone had could share. Some cried, a lot. Some bent over backwards to make their lives special, and others were resentful.
But mostly, I was struck by the humor, and by the way the other characters variably reacted to it. The main characters are each funny in their own right, not making light of their plight, but coping with it. The reactions that people had to this humor were honest, and familiar. The way friendships dissolve and form in reaction to the health of the main characters was interesting and felt realistic. I felt like much of this aspect of the novel could easily apply to kids who have a family member with cancer as well. It's easier to push away the people we care about because they just don't get it, or because we want to save them the pain of dealing with our drama. It's easier to crack jokes about it sometimes, than it is to face it head on. And sometimes there is no facing it head on, because all you can do is wait, so you crack jokes mostly to keep yourself sane.
There's so much more to say about this novel, but this review is already too long.
Yes, I'm glad I read this one, and I'm glad it's out there in the world and being read.
A friend recommended this to me way back in high school, around when it first came out. It was then recommended to me again in college, with specific directions to listen to the audio version. I finally got around to it, almost a decade later, and I wish I'd listened to it a lot earlier! I understand why it was recommended to me now, too–I speak French about the same as Sedaris describes speaking it, despite many years of classes.
I read this book awhile ago, and never actually wrote a review for it. I was considering rereading it before watching the movie, but after paging through it a bit, I realize I do remember it pretty well.
I love the theme of this novel. I'm not in love with the delivery as much, since this is a prime example of John Green's manic pixie dream girl phase. But the theme kept me going and mitigated any annoyance I had about the MPDG. And I really do mean that. The theme is all about how we imagine others to be, as opposed to who they actually are. The MPDG is a great way to examine that.
Margo is ultimately not actually a manic pixie dream girl. She's an escapee from that trope, from that expectation. She does the unexpected precisely because it's not what people expect from her, and she targets Quentin to be her companion in it because she imagines him to be capable of seeing her more complexly. She is both wrong and right about that. He does end up seeing her more complexly by the end of the novel, but it takes an epic road trip and many clues to lead him down that garden path. It is not his default mode to be able to see women complexly. I'm not interested in casting blame or shaming anyone for that flaw--it's a common enough experience for teens to figure out that people aren't what they seem, after all. My main issue with this novel is that it's a mystery with Margo at the center of it, without her actually being present for most of the story. I think the theme could have been delivered just as well (if not better) if Green had included chapters from her point of view. Both characters struggled to see each other complexly, seeing each other only as people who could fill in the blank spot in a script they had running in their heads. Quentin wanted Margo to be his damsel in distress, and Margo wanted Quentin to be the nice guy who approached her without expectation. Neither one of them could be what the other one wanted, and both needed to learn to see themselves and each other in a more complex light.There's also the issue of the address being hidden in the hinges of Quentin's bedroom door. How the hell did that address get there? This is a question I need answered. I mean, from what I remember in the book, she only came in the window, and likely didn't get anywhere near the door without Quentin seeing her. So I'm inclined to think she didn't put it there. But then how did it get there? Who put it there? Why?It was a great book, however, despite all my whinging. I know a lot of people didn't like the ending because they didn't end up together happily ever after. In that sense, I feel like this is one of the most subversive of Green's books. He took the knight in shining armor and crushed his fantasy of saving the manic pixie dream girl princess. From what I've heard from people, this is infuriating, and I love it.
Dreadnought is a fun addition to Priest's steampunk universe. Mercy, the main character, is a nurse who is called out west to see her father, a man who disappeared from her life when she was a child. She is a recent widow, and so leaves out west on her own with just enough money to get her where she's going. This is a story of survival and exploration that puts a wide-angle lens on the landscape of this universe, showing us all the things that make steampunk fun - fashion, dirigibles, and steam engines - while also giving us a clear idea of who in this universe can see the impending zombie apocalypse coming.
It is also, in a sense, an origin story for Mercy. It is not so much about her relationship with her father as it is about her relationship with herself and the world around her. She is a strong woman working hard to get by in a world that would be just as happy to sweep her aside. For a long time she has been content enough to keep her head down and merely survive, but during her treacherous trip to the Pacific Northwest, she is called upon to save lives, to lead people in battle, and to solve a mystery. She does this all while navigating a complex political landscape that would position her as an enemy to both sides of the Civil War, if she weren't so deceptively deft with her rhetoric and sincere to boot. Through the course of the story she transforms into a character who is confidently capable and who will fit into the Seattle community rather nicely.
It appears as if Priest is setting up a delightful cast of characters who will, at some point in the series, save the world from the zombie apocalypse. If this is truly the case, I am looking forward to it.
I listened to the Audible version of this in the car, and it was a good choice. The production value of Audible books is consistently good, and this was no exception.
The story was enjoyable and fun and had all the qualities of a good steampunk novel that one might expect. I liked the sometimes-cheesy naming of characters, too, but I'm a sucker for puns. I look forward to reading the second installation.
I listened to the audio version that is available through Audible, and it was a very enjoyable addition to my commute. Having grown up in the area made this alternate history especially entertaining. The very end included a twist that I somehow hadn't expected coming, although you might end up reading it and thinking it obvious. I blame being distracted by my commute, but regardless, even if I had seen it coming, I would have loved it all the same. I'm really excited to move on to the next installment in the series.
I listened to the audio version on my commute. If I'd been reading it anywhere else, there are about twenty different places I would have put it down, never to return. There were a lot of places where the story lagged significantly and Grossman focused intensely instead on his main character's lack of internal development. The main character wasn't evil, nor was he good. He wasn't as smart as he thought he was, but he certainly wasn't stupid. Mostly, he and his utter lack of ambition were just dull. I appreciate Grossman's love of the genre, and the world he created was interesting enough (and peppered with many references to classics of the genre), but I could not get past this bore of a main character.
I tend to get obsessed with certain types of books for a period of time, and then can't read anything after that until a new obsession takes me. This book was meant to fit into my recent paranormal noir obsession, and I was delighted at how well it worked as paranormal noir while still feeling utterly different from the others I've read. Even if I go on to read more in this sub-genre, I think this will be the cap on the genre for me.
What seems to start out as a typical noir mystery with a missing person and a part-time PI leads us down a path of deceit, unfamiliar magic, nightmares, fantastical creatures, memories of an unhappy past, and dead people that don't stay dead. I was pleasantly suprised at the shape the story took towards the end, with it turning out to be more of an origin story for the main character than the typical fantasy noir series beginner. I'm not sure if this was meant to be the beginning of a series, and I'd be skeptical of whether the author could pull of a Book 2 of this, but only because Book 1 was so wonderful. There's a reason that super-hero stories leave the origin story for their characters for when they've run out of heroic things for the characters to do.
I think my favorite thing about this story was how well the author wove in Irish mythology and neo-pagan beliefs with the culture and history of Boston. If you aren't familiar with even the most basic of beliefs and folklore from these two groups, you'll probably get more out of this novel than I did. My only gripe was how predictable the end was as someone who is familiar at a basic level with the beliefs of neo-pagans and Irish folklore. I have a soft spot for fiction that explores mythology and religion, and the fact that this also explored the main character's past and her connection to her home town only sweetened the deal for me.
This is a really good short summary of what most English teachers are expecting from you and attempting to elicit from you in literature classes. It's a pretty short book, so if you don't have a lot of time I'd recommend starting with this. It's a little light in some areas, and the missing details can just leave students more confused than before. Obviously detail and portability are always going to be at odds with one another, but I think nothing would have been lost in the portability category by just a little bit more detail. In any case, I'd recommend picking this up in high school or very early on in college if you can, but it's never too late to figure out the literary essay.
This was an entertaining book, and a new take on much of the old paranormal fiction out there. This has a strong female lead, but the reason this didn't reach five stars for me was that she gets beaten on nearly every chapter by someone different, and I hate it when violence becomes rote and boring. Additionally, I found the end to be rushed and and a bit confusing. There was quite a bit at the end that wasn't resolved, but since this is a series, I assume that it was saved for subsequent novels. My only other gripe, a really minor one, is that while the story takes place in Seattle, after the opening chapter was over, the author didn't bring as much of the “Seattle” feel to it as I would have liked. I'm sure it's my own homesickness that makes me think that, however, so I can't justify taking away stars for that. Overall, I'd recommend it as a good fun read, especially if you enjoy noir and/or paranormal fiction.
I highly recommend this to everyone that procrastinates or is a perfectionist. It's probably been one of the most influential books in my life. I've always been a procrastinator, but after college it got to a whole new level of procrastination. I'm not sure the book really cured me of it entirely, but it has helped me understand why I procrastinate, which is really 90% of the battle I think.
This is a fantastic collection of short stories. Obviously a couple of these turned into longer works later on, and some weren't all that refined, but as a writer, I found that to be all the more interesting. Sometimes we put our favorite authors up on pedestals and forget that they too went through a process of writing. Butler follows up these shorter works with “afterwards” (instead of forwards), continuing to build not only a collection of stories, but a longer narrative of the writing process and the thought behind it.
I might get back to this at some point, but it didn't hold my attention for very long. I don't even remember what the plot was supposed to be about.
I really enjoyed this book. It makes me feel very nervous to admit this, however. After all, what kind of morbid person would ever read about dead bodies? Well, this time it falls under the umbrella of ‘research.' And perhaps morbid curiosity played a small part in me reading it. But true to form, Roach did a magnificent job asking all the obnoxious questions that nobody else would want to ask. It's gross in a lot of places, so if you have a weak stomach, don't read this. But that said, it's an easy read.
I only wish I'd had this book in high school. I might have understood what my English teachers were trying to get out of me a little better. This is an excellent guide for high school and college students taking literature courses.
I just finished reading this with my sixth graders and they really got into it. Even though it's the end of the year, they were engaged. I was pleasantly surprised to see some of my tougher students really connect with the book. Some of the themes were provocative for them including the idea of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, taking responsibility for something you didn't do, being underestimated, and not being able to count on the adults in your life. Zero was by far the most popular character. It started some great discussions about dealing with difficult adults and managing negative expectations.
