Natasha
Did not finish. Characters were flat and plot mundane. It was just unrelenting misery throughout the story - alcoholism, miscarriages, death, illness, bullying - and that was only the first quarter of the book! I know I am in the minority as most people loved this book - but I needed to see a glimmer of hope (or even a likeable character), and Matthew Thomas failed to deliver it.
Winner of the 2014 Miles Franklin Literary Award
This is a mystery, but not that fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat thriller type. All the birds, singing is more a gradual revelation, but leaves you just as hungry for answers as the classic ‘who-dunnits”.
I don't really believe in re-writing the entire synopsis of a novel for a review, but I will give a quick run-through for context. Jake Whyte lives an isolated life on a sheep farm on an unnamed British Island. Recently, something or someone has been mutilating and killing her sheep. There are two mysteries for the reader to solve. Firstly: what kind of animal or person could harm her flock in such a horrid way? Secondly: What drove Jake from her home and family in Australia and why does she choose to live in such seclusion?
These unanswered questions kept me hooked. The answers are slowly revealed in alternating chapters. One: in the present in England, then the next concerns her past in Australia. The way her past is exposed seems to confuse some people (according to Goodreads reviews) but it didn't take me very long to figure out that (and I don't think this is a spoiler – but if you are sensitive to this kind of thing skip the rest of the paragraph) her story is told in reverse. I really enjoyed this literary device because once you received an answer to one question the next raised its intriguing head. Great stuff!
Evie Wyld is a very gifted writer (clearly illustrated by the awards and nominations she has received for her work). She is probably a little too good in this novel actually: her descriptions on life in Australia makes it sound awful – a dry, dead country teeming with flies and dodgy men. (I live here tourists, believe me, it is not).
There are a few dark seedy bits, a touch of lust and some undesirable characters – all makes for a rather enjoyable read.
Oh what a decadent and dangerously addictive book this is! It is your every guilty pleasure between two covers. I warn you, you will not be able to put it down. Thanks to Liane Moriarty I lost hours of much needed sleep and woke up cranky but still wanting more Big Little Lies.
The story mostly focuses on three main characters: Madeline – a stylish and high-spirited mum whose ex-husband's daughter attends the same school as her kids; Jane – a young, single mum who is new to the area; and Celeste – a beautiful and rich stay-at-home mum with rambunctious twin boys. The events and interactions between the mums of Pirriwee Public School all lead up to a dramatic drunken riot and the tragic death of one parent. Police suspect murder.
The wonderful thing about this book is that not only are you guessing ‘who-dunnit', but also you don't know who died til the very end either. It is a two-for-the-price-of-one mystery.
Don't let the size of the book deter you. This is an easy and satisfying read. Moriarty is a gifted storyteller; her writing is effortless and enticing. I felt like I knew some of these characters (Oh calamity! I probably do!). The mothers of Pirriwee could represent those at any primary school, squabbling over who was invited to a party, gossiping about an unconfirmed affair and always trying to outdo each other.
While I had to laugh at the antics of the school mums (and admit, took a certain amount of glee from their petty feuds), there are some very real and serious issues that are dealt with in this book. Bullying, domestic abuse and body image issues all play an important role.
Big Little Lies is a highly entertaining, funny yet thought-provoking novel. I will be recommending it to all my friends, book club and perhaps highlighting a couple of paragraphs for a select few Kindy mums.
Thank you to Bookworld for an advanced copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review.
Hugh Howey has done it again! He has created another desolate dystopian world and sucked me right into it.
I have made no secret of the fact that I loved the Silo Trilogy, so it was with much trepidation that I started to read Sand. I was concerned that Mr. Howey might let me down. That Wool may have been a fluke, and my appreciation of the author may be tarnished. Not the case I am happy to report.
Sand tells the story of four siblings who live in the post-apocalyptic state of Colorado. An endless desert has buried the ancient world, and their people barely survive in the harsh wasteland. They work hard for every drop of water, and live under constant threat of terror attacks in their lawless society. The siblings (Victoria, Palmer, Conner and Rob) are all somehow involved with the dangerous job of sand-diving (I thought of it as deep sea diving, only through sand) where they scavenge items from the old world for resale. One day Palmer is approached by a band of outlaws who claim they have discovered the mythical city of Danvar buried deep beneath the dunes. Palmer, along with the rest of his family, is about to stumble on a truth that will change their perception of their entire world.
This is a fast-paced, highly engaging, very readable novel. The prose is not poetic or flowery, and Howey moves the action along swiftly and with purpose. His description of the sand and sand diving were particularly successful. Just as the Inuits purportedly have various different terms for snow, so do these people have numerous terms for sand – showing just how important it is in their lives.
The sand diving scenes were surprisingly realistic. I felt my own lungs gulping for air as the characters had to make their way through the sand without being buried alive – I took deep breathes after each dive. His explanation of the dive suits and the diving process were really good too. Though in reality it would be impossible (I think), Howey makes it plausible.
Some negative comments have been made about the world-building part of this novel. There is no completely satisfactory explanation as to how the world became this way (though it is attempted towards the end), however, I have a feeling there may be another book in the works, and our questions will be answered. Hugh Howey will not let us down!
Recently I've started my reading/reviewing process differently. I go to Goodreads and find a one or two star review (hopefully one without spoilers) and learn exactly how bad the book can be. Then I open the book and start to read. What happens? I am almost always pleasantly surprised.
This is the case with Tom Rachman's The Rise & Fall of Great Powers. After reading the bad review I expected to be bored and confused. However, after finishing the book, I found the writing and story to be engaging and really easy to follow.
Tooly Zylberberg had an unconventional childhood. She was raised by a group of drifters, thieves and scoundrels after she was ‘taken' from her home in Maryland. Now in her early thirties she is the owner of a second hand bookstore in Wales. After her ex-boyfriend calls to say that her father is ill, she decides to venture to New York to confront the characters from her past and learn the truth about her upbringing.
The novel alternates between 1988, 1999 and 2011. Some say that this alternating structure is confusing, and while there is an array of colourful characters, they are so distinct that I didn't feel at all lost.
While the story is a mystery, at the heart of the novel are the characters. Humphrey, an old Russian intellectual and great reader; Sarah – a flighty and flirtatious groupie; Paul – a rather odd bird enthusiast; Venn – the mysterious and charismatic leader of the group, and many others you will love and/or hate.
It is interesting to follow Tooly through her discoveries and you realise that events from her childhood did not actually happen as she remembered them. The fallibility of memory, especially when we were young, is a core theme of the book. How well do we really know the people who raised us?
This is an enjoyable read with some breath-taking prose and philosophical ideas.
This novel took me months to read. Not because it was at all boring, but because I felt that I had to savour it. I had to read it in instalments to properly understand it. At times, I did consider giving up, but something always drew me back in. That something was Richard Flanagan's writing.
There were times when a sentence or paragraph would cause me to catch my breath. I had to put the book down and stare at the wall while I contemplated what he said and how he said it.
The book also took me a long time to get through because there are some seriously horrific scenes to take in - Systematic beheadings of Chinese POW's; vivisections of live US airman; the daily torture and living conditions of the Australian POW's. I needed to build my nerve and strength before plunging into the horror of war again.
POSSIBLE SPOILER: I didn't always like Dorrigo Evans – at least – I liked Dorrigo Evans the doctor and during his time in the war, but Dorrigo Evans the husband – not so much (probably due to the fact he was a serial adulterer – and I admit I am quite judgemental about adulterers). I know men returned from the war as shells of their former selves, but the fact that he felt like he had to sleep with other women to validate his love for Amy really annoyed me. Yet at the end he redeemed himself as a husband and father.
The characters I fell for in this book were the ones on the periphery: Darky Gardiner, Tiny, even the old Greek owner of Nikitaris's Fish and Chip shop. I loved reading about them.
The Narrow Road to the Deep North is a beautifully written, haunting read. It weaves the horrors of war together with its disastrous aftereffects. I am glad I stayed with it – even if it took three months.
I don't know where to begin. I knew a few pages in that I would love this book. It is a love letter to books, reading and readers, and I am obviously a reader. So I suppose it was inevitable that I would love it.
A.J Fikry is the owner of a small, struggling bookstore on Alice Island. His wife has recently died; he has lost a very valuable collection of poetry and seems to be determined to drink himself into an early grave. Then one day a mysterious package arrives at his door, and he can't ignore it. His life is about to change.
The story is quite simple. It has love and loss; romance and humour; even a little mystery thrown into the mix, but at its heart, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry is a novel about books. Books frame every action and every character in the novel. It is a bibliophile's delight. Gabrielle Zevin makes so many literary references in this book, and the great thing is they are not obscure. At one point she even talks about a YA vampire series (which sounds very much like Twilight). It was fun recognising the names of books and going “Hey! I've read that!”
I am sure there will be a few book snobs ranting about the substance of this book – the characters are one-dimensional – blah blah blah. When you are having as much fun as I did reading this – who really cares?
The characters are quirky and loveable, the setting is quaint and the plot is hopeful, and an innate love of books radiates through every page. It is simply wonderful.
I really wanted to love this book. The premise appealed to me. A teenage girl gets diagnosed with terminal cancer and decides to complete a ‘bucket list' to pack as many new experiences into her tragically short life as possible. So although it is a depressing subject, I expected the book to be full of the joy of life.
Um, no. Do not be fooled. The bucket list was hardly featured in this novel at all. You never really get to see what made the list, and the things she does tick off mostly concern petty teenage revenge on her ex-boyfriend and ballet ‘frenemy.'
I don't know about you, but my bucket list would include more of: “try every flavour Ben and Jerry's ice-cream and make amends to those I have harmed” and less: “humiliate my ex-boyfriend and steal the dreams away from my high-school nemesis.”
Which brings me to the character of Alice (said bitter and petty teenage girl). She was horrid, horrid, horrid. I have not met a character that so annoyed me since the whiny and helpless Bella Swan of Twilight fame. I expected to have a degree of sympathy for Alice, considering her awful situation, but she was the most spiteful and selfish creature in my experience of YA fiction.
The way she uses (and abuses) her ‘love interest' – Harvey, is appalling. She leads him on then blows him off. He is good enough to drive her places and keep her company when she is dying, but as soon as she finds out the cancer is in remission she feels too much pressure over his love for her and drops him like a hot potato. Not cool Alice!
And that is another thing – when any normal, sane person finds out their cancer is in remission, I expect there would be much whooping and cheering and happiness all around. But Alice seems disappointed she is going to live. Rather then seeing this as a second chance at living a better life, she sulks and moans and skips school. I really felt like slapping her and screaming: “Be grateful, you undeserving bitch!”
While I think my position on the main character is pretty clear, I liked Harvey. His only fault was loving Alice.
The story had so much potential, I am still reeling from my disappointment.
Tim Winton is a beloved Australian author. I have only read one other novel by him (Breath), and I can certainly see a pattern emerging.
He writes about life in Australia. It's gritty. It's real. You can actually feel yourself immersed in the culture and people of another time and another place (for those of us who did not grow up in Australia). There is no ‘rose-tinted' filter to his stories, yet I did get a sense of some nostalgia and some regret.
The Turning is a collection of short stories all centring around a small fictional town in Western Australia. The stories are all mostly vaguely connected and work well as a novel, but could also be stand-alone as well. He tells the tale of the people of Angelus focusing on one character in particular – Victor Lang. I think Victor featured in nine of the seventeen stories. He is a damaged man trapped in his adolescent past – and Winton allows us to witness some very important moments in his life through the eyes of his mother, his father, his wife, even a girl who has a crush on him in school.
Along with Vic there are some other very memorable characters: An abused woman who develops and interest in the Christian couple who recently moved into the neighbourhood; a strange relationship between the school bad boy and the smart yet ostracised girl; and a girl with a strawberry scar.
It was a good read. Fans of Tim Winton will love it. The Turning was originally published in 2005 and has won numerous Australian Literary awards. In 2013 it was made into a movie starring Cate Blanchett, Rose Byrne, Hugo Weaving and a host of other acclaimed Auzzie actors.
So why only 3.5 stars? As well written and poignant as this book is, I don't think it is one I will be tempted to read again. Having said that, I think I will undoubtedly read more of Winton's work.
Well that was one messed up, dysfunctional relationship! Not many likeable characters are there? Nick so obviously hated women and yet turned out to be the ‘Good Guy', while Amy was strong and intelligent but a complete psychopath!! But that was the point wasn't it?
I was a little disappointed with the ending (although I can see the beauty of letting Amy win) only because I have such a innate sense of justice, and can't stand someone not getting what they deserve. I would have liked to see Amy exposed - but then I suppose, she wouldn't be Amy ;)
Thrillingly addictive
I just couldn't get into this book. I didn't care about the characters and I felt the writing was unimaginative and flat. There was no excitement, no beauty, it was just run-of-the-mill - he did this, and then that, and she laughed and then they walked along the river. Blah!
Maybe the size of the novel daunted me too. If it was 300 pages I may have soldiered on, but 500 pages of something I didn't find in the least bit entertaining was unbearable. Reading should not be a chore!
I only read 25% of the novel though, so it may get better later on (and to be fair, I was reading Gone Girl at the same time, and not much can compete with that in terms of intrigue).