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| 0062001051
| 9780062001054
| 0062001051
| 3.36
| 2,799
| May 19, 2015
| May 19, 2015
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really liked it
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In this alternative nineteenth-century timeline, the Arthurisian (British) Empire has mastered so much technology that cities can float in the air, th
In this alternative nineteenth-century timeline, the Arthurisian (British) Empire has mastered so much technology that cities can float in the air, their residents travelling by airships. Seventeen-year-old Jonathan Gouden lives in one of these floating cities with his scientist father, mother, and feisty sister Hannah. Jonathan looks forward to attending a university and carrying on his father’s legacy of scientific discoveries, but he has very little going on in his life at the moment. Until his city, Fata Morgana, is struck by a mysterious disease called the Venen, which kills all who contract it within five days. The epidemic claims the life of the Queen. Soon Jonathan’s mum and Hannah fall sick. Meanwhile, the King is demanding that Jonathan’s father produce a cure yesterday. The King, on the advice of his advisor Lady Florel, wants this new drug developed from a hallucinogen called fantillium, which produces marvelous illusions. If Dr. Gouden can’t produce, he risks execution. But fantillium has terrible side-effects, as Jonathan learns after following Lady Florel to a looking-glass version of Arthurise, called Nod’ol, where all of society is addicted to the stuff. The Nod’olians do nothing but ingest their drug and watch magic shows, where skilled illusionists produce hallucinations they all can share. Inside and out, they are turning into monsters. All but Anna, a dead ringer for Jonathan’s sister, who longs to escape the corrupted city and reunite with her family. It’s her, Jonathan, and Jonathan’s nemesis, the soldier Lockwood, against a tyrannical queen and her broken subjects. What’s the ethical choice, when the only cure you can give your family is worse than the disease? Content Advisory Violence: Some of the illusions conjured involve people getting stabbed or burned alive. They never die in real life, but the experience of dying in an illusion is still painful and can produce life-after-death experiences. A young woman is fatally shot. Sex: Some mildly vampish behavior from a young female illusionist who can’t make up her mind if she wants to kill Jonathan or make him her pet. He firmly refuses her advances. Language: Nothing. Substance Abuse: THE WHOLE PLOT is about the dangers of hallucinogenic drugs. Nightmare Fuel: Accumulated doses of fantillium cause a process called Rivening, where people sprout extra limbs, organs, and even faces. Constantine is so disfigured that he always wears a mask with a snout. Divinity has an eyeball on her shoulder and implies that her other mutations are too embarrassing to mention. And Queen Honoria (view spoiler)[has eyeballs up and down her arms. No wonder she named her airship the Argus (hide spoiler)] . Politics & Religion: The life-after-death experiences are notable for a lack of spiritual imagery. Conclusions Illusionarium has some things in common with the illusions its characters create: it’s not terribly deep, and sometimes it’s impossible to tell what’s going on. But what an evocative, exciting mirage! If you’ve read Dixon’s previous novel, Entwined, you’ve probably noticed her expertise on Victorian culture, which makes for a vivid setting. It works even better here. The visuals and set pieces are excellent, and her love of all things Victorian clearly shines through. The three main characters—Jonathan, Anna, and Lockwood—all complement each other well. Their quest to escape a vast, hostile complex while bantering at each other may seem very familiar, but in a welcome way. [image] The book sticks out in a lot of good ways. While it certainly has a strong female lead (or two), it also has a kind and clever male protagonist; in no way do they detract from each other. It also has its priorities in the right place. All the characters agree that saving lives is far more important that their romantic angst or rivalries. There’s also a really cute friendship that evolves from two characters who previously despised each other. Recommended if you liked Garth Nix’s Keys to the Kingdom series or Sharon Cameron’s Dark Unwinding duology…or if you liked A.G. Howard’s books but weren’t crazy about the love triangles and melodrama. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Apr 07, 2019
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Apr 23, 2019
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Nov 17, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0718026268
| 9780718026264
| 0718026268
| 4.08
| 8,827
| Nov 01, 2015
| Nov 17, 2015
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really liked it
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Holy Roman Empire, 1413— Rapunzel is the daughter of a travelling midwife. She knows she’s adopted, and the midwife, Gothel, has at least two incompati Holy Roman Empire, 1413— Rapunzel is the daughter of a travelling midwife. She knows she’s adopted, and the midwife, Gothel, has at least two incompatible stories of how Rapunzel came into her custody. This is highly suspicious to nineteen-year-old Rapunzel. Gothel also has an irrational hatred of all men and all written words, and she uproots the family and moves as soon as their neighbors notice they exist. Rapunzel is now quite certain that her mother is insane. Yet like many victims of abusive parents before and since, Rapunzel is emotionally frozen and can’t run away. Much as she has come to loathe and distrust the woman who raised her, she still feels indebted to Gothel—and is sure Gothel would just track her down and treat her even worse than before. On their way to the city of Hagenheim, Rapunzel and Gothel are beset by bandits. Here their paths cross with that of Sir Gerek, a troubled young knight in service to Duke Wilhelm of Hagenheim. Despite her adoptive mother’s attempts to keep them separate, Rapunzel is intrigued by the surly Gerek; he finds her very physically attractive but will not bother courting a peasant with no inheritance. Yet, at the prompting of a monk, he teaches Rapunzel to read, in both Latin and their native German. Literacy gives Rapunzel the confidence she needs to finally break her chains and run. She reaches Hagenheim ahead of Gothel and takes a job as a kitchen maid. She’s in for angst, intrigue, and a great revelation… Content Advisory Violence: A battle in the castle results in a few (non-graphic) casualties. Rapunzel is repeatedly menaced by a particular bandit and has to fend him off with a knife. The worst violence takes place in the past: a drunken man throws his wife down the stairs during an argument, then leaps from a fourth-story window when he sobers up and finds her dead. A boy beats his younger brother. A child is kidnapped and almost drowned by her abductor. A young woman is drugged, kidnapped and imprisoned by her deranged mother. Sex: Gothel repeatedly tells Rapunzel that Men Only Want One Thing and will resort to violence to get it if sweet talk doesn’t work. (view spoiler)[Gothel’s perspective comes from her experience—she’s the illegitimate daughter of Hagenheim’s previous duke and blames her mother for being seduced and raising her in poverty. The cycle repeated when the young adult Gothel was seduced by an official, who promised to marry her but sailed to England for a job opportunity and left her pregnant. The baby died, and Gothel’s family blamed her. This seems to have driven her mad in earnest and prompted her to kidnap Rapunzel (hide spoiler)]. Having grown up with only this person’s perspective, Rapunzel is terrified that every male she meets intends to either seduce or rape her. At first she’s not afraid of Gerek because he makes it clear he disdains her. But eventually even she figures out that he’s merely masking his interest, and this scares her—it takes her a long time to be certain that he's a good man who sincerely cares for her and would never cause her grief. Language: None. Substance Abuse: Claybrook and Co. are usually sloshed. Nightmare Fuel: Everything about Gothel is terrifying…her use of physical violence on the defenseless, including children; her psychotic rants that splice mangled truths with outright falsehoods... Conclusions I have a hunch that Rapunzel might be Melanie Dickerson’s favorite fairytale, because she really gets this story. The Golden Braid is a fine adaptation of the original story and a rousing YA period romantic adventure in its own right. I’ve had my gripes with previous installments in this series, but with this one, I can finally see what the hype was about. I’m glad I stuck around. Gothel is a rather brilliant villain. The other villains in this series have been either serious but underdeveloped (the Duchess in The Fairest Beauty and Ruexner in The Captive Maiden) or the type who twirl their capes and announce their evil plans to everyone within hearing distance (Moncore in The Healer’s Apprentice, the stepmother in Captive Maiden, Claybrook in The Princess Spy and this). Gothel is leaps ahead of any of them, a masterful portrait of evil. She’s the worst possible nightmare, the one that can come true. We all know people like her—paranoid, poisoned by hatred, victims who go on to victimize others. Rapunzel is a believable abused child, badly damaged by Gothel, but too strong inside to be destroyed. Watching her and Gerek overcome their paralyzing fears, reject the past, and help each other forge a healthy adulthood is truly inspiring. They also have snappy conversations and tangible chemistry. I really enjoyed this book. So, I suspect, will many of you. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Aug 09, 2018
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Aug 13, 2018
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Jul 20, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0805092668
| 9780805092660
| 0805092668
| 4.18
| 115,222
| Jan 05, 2010
| Oct 30, 2012
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liked it
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Sapphire Blue picks up right after Ruby Red. it’s been a few days since Gwen Shephard discovered that she, not her cousin Charlotte, inherited the “ti
Sapphire Blue picks up right after Ruby Red. it’s been a few days since Gwen Shephard discovered that she, not her cousin Charlotte, inherited the “time-travel gene” that manifests in one girl of each generation in their family. The Montrose-Shephard family have assumed till now that Charlotte was the one with the power, and trained her since infancy accordingly. But it’s really been Gwen all along, and she is utterly unprepared. There’s a sinister conspiracy that spans the centuries, about to close in on its goal in the present day. The survival of the two time-travelling families, and possibly the world because of course, is in the hands of Gwen and Gideon, her male equivalent from the de Villiers line. Unfortunately for the rest of the poor souls embroiled in this, Gideon is a loose cannon who might be aligned with his Circle’s enemies, and Gwen is both infatuated with Gideon and rather slow on the uptake in general. He might undermine them, and if he does, she will be of no use in stopping him... Content Advisory Violence: Gideon gets knocked on the head by an unseen, unknown assailant in the present day. He claims he was following Gwen around a streetcorner when this occurred, and he blames her for luring him into an ambush. She has no idea what he’s talking about and is highly distraught by the accusation. Gideon also gets in a sword-fight (not shown) in the eighteenth century and shows up splattered with someone else’s blood. Sex: A lot more innuendo than was in book one. Gideon and Gwen spend several minutes smooching on a couch when they’re supposed to be doing their homework, and Xemerius thinks they went a lot further than they actually did. A creepy old man momentarily molests Gwen and a few other young women at a party in the eighteenth century. Also in attendance at this party is a worldly young widow dying to sink her claws into Gideon. Gwen assumes that he and Lady Lavinia have been intimate in the past, although Gideon says some things that make that seem unlikely. Gwen mentions that she is one of only four girls in her grade not on birth control. I can relate, Gwen! This is a kind of stupid joke, because many girls are prescribed birth control for purely medical reasons—but it is a reflection of how many sixteen-year-old girls think. She feels that she’s in no danger of becoming sexually active, and is both relieved and embarrassed by this (again, very relatable). Language: One or two uses of “sh**” and “hell.” Substance Abuse: Gwen tells us about a sleepover party where she and her school friends broke into the host’s parents’ vodka. This exciting incident culminated with our heroine warbling High School Musical (not dated at all, cough) songs into a hairbrush and commanding that her host’s father join her when he came to investigate the noise: “C’mon, baldy, get those hips swinging!” This mortifying experience has made her wary of the happy juice. But she unwittingly drinks punch laced with alcohol at an eighteenth-century soiree and is a giggling mess for the rest of the evening, eventually gracing the company with a stirring rendition of “Memories” from Cats, two hundred years before that song was written. Why not just play air-guitar? [image] Nightmare Fuel: In St. Germane’s library, Gwen finds a creepy old tome about famous demons summoned by bad magicians throughout history. She pauses at a particularly gruesome illustration and the demon portrayed therein materializes in front of her. It boasts and tries to frighten her, but she refuses to be cowed. She just snarks at it and calmly reads on, trapping it once again between the pages. In present-day London, Gwen is also followed about by a little gargoyle-demon calling himself Xemerius. He looks and acts like a talking cat with horns, and is not meant to be a frightening creature, but I’m not sure if he can be trusted. Conclusions Kerstin Gier’s Precious Stone trilogy has so far been a sugar rush. The characters don’t have a whole lot of depth, the plot is impossible to follow, and the world-building is not necessarily consistent. Evil sorcerers and demons are present in this book, despite never having been mentioned in the first. The scene with the fiend in St. Germane’s library, in particular, is more in line with Jonathan Stroud’s (wonderful) Bartimaeus trilogy than anything in Ruby Red. It’s unclear how the ghosts Gwen sees tie in with anything in past or present. That said, I like how Gwen claims that she’s awkward and dorky and is, in fact, awkward and dorky. She falls down. She gets sick. She laughs at the wrong things. She struggles to focus in class. She gives herself pep talks in the bathroom mirror. When she’s scared, she calms herself down by singing and dancing to ABBA songs—and sometimes, other people see her do this. Plenty of YA heroines call themselves dorks, but very few of them actually are. Gwen is the real deal, and despite her over-the-top feelings about everything (especially Gideon), her genuine dweeb-ness makes her likeable. Gideon is not on a level with Eugenides or Maxon Schreave or Morpheus the Netherling, but he develops a bit in this book, apart from only Gwen’s lovelorn perception of him. Apparently he’s unsure where he stands in this conflict of time-travellers, and his handlers are genuinely worried that he might turn traitor… This series is The Princess Diaries meets Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure in England. It’s great entertainment that actually deserves its lovely shiny covers. I can’t wait to see how it all ends. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 13, 2018
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Jun 19, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0062059998
| 9780062059994
| 0062059998
| 4.15
| 716,068
| May 06, 2014
| May 06, 2014
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really liked it
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The very pretty cover photograph of The One gives the whole thing away, but that’s alright. This is one of those books where the ending was fairly eas
The very pretty cover photograph of The One gives the whole thing away, but that’s alright. This is one of those books where the ending was fairly easy to call, and the journey mattered more than the destination anyway. (Also, the gowns on the covers are blue, red, and white. Because the girl's name is America. I just caught that). As the teen drama of the Selection process continues, the Northern Rebels make diplomatic overtures to Maxon and America, whom they believe to be sympathetic to their cause. Our heroine is going to learn a lot about her country, her father, Maxon, and even Celeste and Aspen. The opulent life at the palace is revealed as the façade it is. Before the Selection ends, there will be great change. And with all major social change comes bloodshed. Content Advisory Violence: The beginning and climax of the book both contain a shoot-out. I don’t remember any notable casualties from the first skirmish, but the later one turns into a massacre (view spoiler)[with three major character deaths, two of which were really sad. Another major character dies off-page, and while his family claims he had a heart complaint, it appears more likely that he was assassinated for knowing too much. (hide spoiler)] King Clarkson continues to beat and verbally abuse his son. America is caught in a skirmish off the palace grounds and is badly wounded. Sex: Max and America spend a night kissing and snuggling in their undergarments. They discuss going further but decide that that can wait until after the royal wedding. Early in the book, the girls are watching the guards work out with their shirts off and America blurts out that Max’s body is the equal of any man there. This leads to an awkward conversation where we find out exactly how intimate he’s been with each girl there—which is not very. I could have sworn that book two said he and Celeste had slept together, but I might have misunderstood. Language: Celeste (view spoiler)[lovingly (hide spoiler)] calls America “you bitch” at one point. Substance Abuse: Kriss becomes uncharacteristically confrontational at a party and America wonders if her friend has hit the champagne a little too hard. Nightmare Fuel: The book makes it very clear that getting shot is not fun. Conclusions In The One, the Selection series finally comes of age. There’s still plenty of pretty dresses and stupid misunderstandings, but the catty girl fights are firmly in the past, as is (for the most part) the love triangle. America, at long last, starts paying attention to what’s going on around her and noticing other people’s needs. There’s also lots of positive development for two characters I had absolutely despised in the first two books, which was pretty cool. My only major complaint with this one was that Max—the rock of the story up until this point—started acting like an impulsive jerk about twenty pages from the end. He snapped out of it quickly, but it seemed out of character and just there for drama. Then again, he’s only seventeen. And his father is a monster. Cass also leaves some world-building threads dangling, such as the conflict with the Southern rebels, but there are two additional books after this, so I guess she’ll address that there. This series ended (at least the initial trilogy) on a much stronger note than I expected going in. It’s a cute, often silly, surprisingly poignant mix of dystopia, chick flick and fairytale that should never work but somehow does. Max is one of the sweetest male leads in a YA series in some time. America starts out a world-class idiot but eventually grows into a heroine worthy of respect. Aspen is a pain, but he fades into the background like he should. And some of the supporting characters will surprise and refresh you. (view spoiler)[Celeste and America have the cutest former-enemy friendship since Kim and Lindsay on Freaks and Geeks. (hide spoiler)] I liked this book. I’m curious to see where this series goes now. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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May 11, 2018
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May 16, 2018
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May 10, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0764208667
| 9780764208669
| 0764208667
| 4.36
| 3,763
| Nov 20, 2010
| Jan 01, 2011
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liked it
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The many storylines of T. Davis Bunn and Janette Oke’s Acts of Faith trilogy conclude in The Damascus Way. Our protagonist is a new character, a young The many storylines of T. Davis Bunn and Janette Oke’s Acts of Faith trilogy conclude in The Damascus Way. Our protagonist is a new character, a young woman of mixed Greek, Syrian and Jewish heritage named Julia. She has grown up in a comfortable house with a gentle mother and a grandmotherly maidservant. There are only two ongoing problems in Julia’s world: her father, the wealthy trader Jamal, is doting but never around, and the people in the nearest village are cold to Julia when she goes to market. Her mother never evens leaves the house. Eventually, our heroine learns that her mom is only Jamal’s mistress, and that he lives with his official wife and legitimate children in Damascus when he’s not accompanying his caravans across the desert. Helena, Julia’s mother, is well-aware of the situation and resigned to it—Jamal took her as a concubine years ago in exchange for helping her family out of debt—but the girl is enraged at her father for this ill use of them both. Her whole world upended, Julia becomes friendly with the sect known as the People of the Way, whom her father reviles. (The title of the novel cleverly refers both to the famous road to Damascus, and the young Church there). Here the thread of Julia’s fate tangles with that of Jacob, whom we know from the first two books. He’s about twenty now, and one of Jamal’s caravan guards. (Jamal doesn’t know about Jacob’s faith and would probably have never hired him had he known). Our friends Linux (whose name should be spelled Linus), Abigail, Alban and Martha (although not Leah, for some reason) are back, along with Dorcas, Abigail’s sweet little daughter by the late Stephen—warning: I will be ranting about this later. They have all left Jerusalem for good, both to spread the Gospel and to evade the Pharisees, especially one Saul of Tarsus, who wants all of them dead. No content advisory needed. There is no real violence, no sexual content, and nothing else that would render the book inappropriate for a young teen reader. The fictional aspects of the book find Bunn and Oke at the top of their game. They deftly juggle a huge cast of characters with a variety of dilemmas. Julia is the best protagonist in the series—easier to understand (and therefore root for) than Leah was at first, with an obvious motive. Unlike Abigail, who had no agency in her own book and barely any even now, Julia is proactive, even stubborn, and steers her own story admirably. Julia’s banter with the combustible Jacob stands out from the other two pairings in the series nicely, more intense than the gentle courtship of Alban and Leah, but less so than the agonizing slow burn between (view spoiler)[Linux and Abigail (which is finally, finally reciprocal) (hide spoiler)] Meanwhile we see the two women in Jamal’s life struggling to tolerate each other, while the merchant himself starts to feel the stirrings of a conscience for the first time. So all the fictional characters get satisfying development, but the Biblical ones still fall flat (except Martha, who continues to be solid). We see Phillip meet with the Ethiopian eunuch here, which would have been a much more meaningful scene if we were given any characterizing information about Phillip up until now. And poor St. Paul is so underserved. Despite being the main antagonist, he is given scarcely any page time. We hear of him and his cruel deeds, but we don’t see him in person until the climax of the book, when he falls from his horse. Hiding the villain can work in something like The Lord of the Rings, where we barely see Sauron but plenty of his minions show up in person. This approach does not work for Paul because he’s not nearly that powerful, or even that evil. He’s much closer to a Zuko or a Kylo Ren—vengefully pursuing the heroes while wondering in his heart if they're right —and both of those characters are strong because we see them a lot. We get to know them. [image] [image] [image] They operate not out of bloodlust or greed but a deranged sense of honor, just like Paul, who was convinced that the Christians were truly evil and would possibly cause the extinction of the Jewish people. Paul is a watershed figure in both Christian and world history, and can’t be pushed to the side like this without greatly weakening the book. Yet the authors seem almost… bored of him. This puzzles me greatly. One major flaw in the novel is carried over from The Hidden Flame: the very silly idea that St. Stephen himself was married, and fathered a child, after his conversion. Dorcas is a sweet child and I like having her in the story—Linux is so cute with her, in particular—but there is no reason on Earth for her parentage. Nothing in the story indicates that she needs to be Stephen’s daughter. She doesn’t even need to be Abigail’s biological daughter—in fact, making Dorcas adopted would have been a great way to show that Abby’s commitment to helping widows and orphans is genuine. But speaking of Stephen reminds me. Why is he the only character in this saga who died? I was willing to overlook this in the first volume, since it took place over about a fortnight and none of the authority figures knew what they were up against. It was fine in book two, since Stephen’s death was the warning that things had gotten real. But none of our fictional leads have been martyred, as of the story’s ending, and I find that mighty strange. Everyone who joined the faith knew that they could be killed for it. Of all the original Apostles, only John avoided a violent end, and even he finished his days exiled and imprisoned. This was handled so well in The Robe, which takes place over the same timeframe as this trilogy and ends with two of the three leads being led to the archery fields of Caligula’s palace, there to meet the fate of St. Sebastian. Marcellus and Diana could have lived to old age as aristocrats, but they chose to die for their beliefs rather than live on in a sick culture and deny the truth. They sacrificed everything. [image] These characters, meanwhile…well, Alban and Linux sacrificed the army…and that’s about it. This is a wholesome series with nice prose, but it doesn’t grasp the time period or culture it claims to portray. It’s not bad. But the vintage Biblical novels of Lloyd C. Douglas and Taylor Caldwell are a lot better. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Mar 27, 2018
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Apr 2018
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Apr 02, 2018
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Paperback
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| 0763630152
| 9780763630157
| 0763630152
| 4.12
| 22,000
| May 02, 2005
| Aug 08, 2006
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liked it
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We begin right where
The Naming
left off, with Cadvan and Maerad escaping the Edil-Amarandh mainland on a ship bound for the islands. Among the Is
We begin right where
The Naming
left off, with Cadvan and Maerad escaping the Edil-Amarandh mainland on a ship bound for the islands. Among the Islanders they find many allies, but witness frightening omens. On the open sea they are harassed by magic, sent by an entity whom Cadvan identifies as the Winterking. Having now escaped into a different part of the Edil-Amarandh continent, the two Bards are still pursued by agents of the Dark, even as they search for something they don’t know how to identify. This stressful situation is made even worse for Maerad, because she is suddenly desperate to be Cadvan’s equal instead of his student. Some of this is her competitive nature and nascent powers. Some of it she doesn’t understand. She feels warm and cold at the same time when he looks at her…it bothers her when he spends much time with other women…the mildest criticism of his stings fiercely… When a freak accident (that might not have been so accidental) happens in the mountains, Maerad assumes Cadvan is dead and begins to wander alone. Her rambling path will help her learn more about her family and her powers, and eventually lead her into the lair of Arkan the Winterking himself. And he is quite different from what she expected… Content Advisory Violence: Our main characters and their friends are attacked by the forces of the Dark, and fight back with gusto. Maerad transmogrifies a Hull into a rabbit and Cadvan snaps the rabbit’s neck, just to be sure. Maerad is terribly wounded and captured by Viking-like raiders. She gets her period while still wounded and sick in captivity, and the narrator tells us that “her whole body felt like it was weeping blood.” Lovely. Sex: Maerad feels very awkward with the two different men she develops crushes on. Language: Nothing. Substance Abuse: Social wine drinking as befits the pseudo-medieval setting. Nightmare Fuel: Not recommended for people who are afraid of avalanches. The Storm Dog was pretty scary too. Conclusions When I finished The Naming, I figured that Allison Croggon had established her universe and characters and could now move on to more exciting material. Unfortunately, The Riddle appears to have wandered off course. On the surface, nothing appears to have progressed. Our characters are still wandering with no clear direction. Ostensibly, they’re on a quest, but their quest is so vague that there’s almost no way of knowing if they find what they seek. Meanwhile they get pursued by generic agents of evil. In between flights and fights, they sit at the hearths of various allies, eating well and reciting poems lifted from Tolkien and droning about how sad everything is. The supporting characters are nice enough, but nothing we haven’t seen many times in this genre before. The only interesting aspect—the whole heart of the story—is Maerad struggling with her crush on Cadvan, which at first she can’t even admit to herself. In the first book we learned that she has a hard time trusting men, after one tried to rape her in the settlement where she was held as a slave. Even though her teacher has been nothing but kind to and protective of her, she is still a little afraid of him, especially on those occasions when he acts tenderly, and she suspects that he might return her feelings. Maerad’s constancy and self-control are (deliberately) tested by (view spoiler)[Arkan, an ageless, amoral elemental sorcerer who looks young and is freakishly handsome. [image] Arkan sulks so much when Maerad asks him about a Bard who lived hundreds of years ago that she concludes the two must have been romantically involved. But he claims to love Maerad and proposes to her, and his anguish when she leaves reminds me more than a little of the Beast when Belle left. [image] (hide spoiler)]. So this book, while its prose is well-crafted and its main characters likeable and compelling, is a chore to complete. The author seems to have completely misunderstood what worked in the first book, and doubled down instead on the many things that didn’t… Croggon steals from the best—the influence of Tolkien is all over the world of this series, while the characters and their abilities can trace their lineage to Ursula K. Le Guin, Robin McKinley, George Lucas, Tamora Pierce, Garth Nix, and the Brontës. But impeccable pedigree isn’t enough to render something interesting that you’ve already read about so many times. Middle-earth could seem vast and gloomy and lonely too, but what made it work were the spots of brightness—from the grandeur of Minas Tirith to the elegance of Lothlórien to, perhaps most importantly, the rustic warmth of the Shire. Tolkien could even make the reader believe in kindly lands that were no more, such as the opulent Dwarven Halls of Erebor and Moria. Each of these places had its own culture and mood; if anything, it was the dark passages between these places that started to blur together. Unfortunately, in the Pellinore series, the pleasant environs all seem the same, allowing for some differences of climate and cuisine, and likewise once you’ve seen one monster or ruin, you’ve seen them all. You’ll also notice that while some of the authors listed above, Nix most of all, could describe a magic system and make it sound unique and even functional, Croggon’s is vague and brings nothing new to the table. Pierce’s magic is pretty vague too, and her settings are very close to those of an earlier fantasy master—Tortall is to Narnia as Edil-Amarandh is to Middle-earth—but Pierce has always known her greatest strength and emphasized it. It’s her characters that bring readers back for at least eighteen books set in the same universe. George, cheeky and clever and loyal unto death; Thayet, noble and gracious; Alanna, the spitfire with a heart full of insecurity; Numair, vain and secretive and romantic; Daine, empathetic and feral; Keladry, whose altruism and self-control as a young teen outshine that of most adults. They burn so bright that we forget how cliché their surroundings and their struggles can get. The overarching storylines are just a way for these lovable folks to interact. Watching them build friendships and rivalries, flirt with each other, and learn from each other is more than worth the admission price. Cadvan and Maerad are much more introverted and morose than any of the Tortall characters—again, Brontë/Tolkien influence rather than Austen/Lewis influence—but they are equally likeable and tangible. By a wide margin, this wandering mage and his angst-ridden pupil are the best part of this series. I loved watching the growth of their friendship, in spite of their both being afraid of opening their hearts, in The Naming. I loved the hints of romance in that book, and the stronger ones in this. That’s what the story is really about. (view spoiler)[By the end, it was clear to me that Cadvan is in love with Maerad, and while she was sincerely infatuated with Arkan, she loves Cadvan back (hide spoiler)]. That is where the emphasis should be. But instead, the book wastes hundreds of pages on aimless treks through fantasy lands that we’ve already traversed under other names, with a thin magical system that is neither functional nor unusual enough to sustain interest, in a melancholy narration style that treads too close to a better-known writer’s voice. The many moments of friendship and blossoming love between Cadvan and Maerad are enough to carry the first third of the book—sometimes these are even lightly humorous—but after the two are separated, all fun disappears from the story for several hundred pages. Arkan, while an interesting-enough fellow, lacks a clear motivation. He needed to be highly developed to make up for the Nameless One being traced-over Sauron, but while the Winterking was meant to be enigmatic, he comes off as blank instead. He reminds me of both Jadis from Narnia and Jareth from Labyrinth, but both of them are much better defined. Jadis works because she’s a pure and ruthless evil, capable of no emotion except lust for power and contempt for those who get in her way. [image] Jareth works because he’s not actually evil—he acts like a man under a curse, desperate to communicate with the girl he loves and trying to do as little damage as possible while still acting the role his curse demands of him. [image] This book asks us to believe that Arkan has human emotions, but his interest in Maerad veered between seeming sincere and merely lustful; he’s also much more violent than Jareth ever was, and shows a Jadis-like lack of empathy. Besides, why root for Arkan, or feel more than passing pity for him, when there’s already a handsome, brooding magician in this story and he’s actually nice? Cadvan actually cares for all of Maerad—he enjoys her company as a friend, he honors her gifts as a fellow mage, and he cherishes her beauty and heart as a future lover. He’s the whole package. Of all the series that don’t need a love triangle (however subtle in its execution) this one rivals The Selection and Splintered for the top spot on the list. When you have a Maxon, a Morpheus, or a Cadvan, the love story is a foregone conclusion, and that is just fine. I’m not sure I’ll continue with this series. The next book, The Crow, doesn’t even feature Cadvan and Maerad, but follows her brother Hem and his tutor Saliman. I liked those two well-enough in The Naming, but they don’t strike me as being able to carry a whole book themselves. And the last book appears to be even more wandering around and vague magic words and very little romance. So tell me, friends, is it worth continuing? ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Mar 11, 2018
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Mar 18, 2018
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Mar 11, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 006202471X
| 9780062024718
| B00A2KDGLI
| 3.98
| 8,541
| Sep 25, 2012
| Sep 25, 2012
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liked it
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Congratulations, Colin Meloy, for producing a second installment that was noticeably better than the first! A few months after Prue McKeel and Curtis M Congratulations, Colin Meloy, for producing a second installment that was noticeably better than the first! A few months after Prue McKeel and Curtis Mehlberg entered the Impassible Wilderness to rescue Prue’s baby brother from an evil sorceress, life has returned to mostly normal for the McKeel family, although Prue is struggling in school and her parents don’t know why. The Mehlbergs have had no such luck. Curtis is still missing, and the parents are so desperate to find him that they flew to Turkey, leaving their two daughters, Rachel and Elsie, at the decidedly creepy Unthank Home for Wayward Youth. Meanwhile Curtis has been happily training as a bandit in the Wildwood, almost never remembering his parents and sisters. The mad Dowager Governess was defeated (although we all know the drill with fantasy “deaths” without a body to show for it) leaving chaos in the wood. Warring factions have sprung up and no one seems to know who the leader should be. Iphigenia, Chief Mystic and priestess of the Great Tree, insists that Prue needs to come back if the Wood should be saved. The girl’s destiny has not yet run its course. Back in Portland, Prue confides in a concerned new teacher, Ms. Thennis. Prue suspects the Wood is calling her back, but what’s wrong now? Content Advisory Violence: Like the first book—not much, but what’s there is startlingly bloody for a middle-grade book. We see a shape-shifter get stabbed, and her shape changes from her human to animal form as it dies. Assassins are sent after children, and while they are unsuccessful, that’s not for lack of effort or menace on their part. Joffrey Unthank forces children to labor in his factory, and some have been maimed or terribly injured in said factory. Some rebellious kids burn down a building. Sex: Prue notices that Curtis’ shoulders are starting to broaden. That’s it. Language: None. Substance Abuse: None. Nightmare Fuel: The aforementioned shape-shifter is described in a frightening way, and one of the illustrations portraying her in mid-morph gave me the willies. That said, it’s a lot less scary than the first book. Know your kids. Kids, know yourselves. Miscellaneous: There’s a villainous Ukrainian character who speaks in a stereotypical accent and generally acts like an evil agent from the Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoon. She’s not super offensive, but she still comes off as a product of accidental xenophobia. Conclusions The first volume in the Wildwood series, simply entitled Wildwood, really rubbed me the wrong way for a variety of reasons. The characters were hard to empathize with, the story took too long to get where it was going, and the whole thing was so hipster it had never heard of itself. Not to mention that the narrator’s fondness for obscure vocabulary words made it hard to picture what was happening at some points. [image] However, the book had a lot of potential. It stole from the best—C.S. Lewis, Terry Pratchett, Jim Henson, and a wee dash of J.R.R. Tolkien at the end—while bringing its own Old Americana aesthetic and an agreeably spooky mood. The illustrations by Carson Ellis (who happens to be Meloy’s wife and album-cover artist) were charming pieces of folk art. The first book dashed my hopes, but for some reason the second one called to me. And while not the greatest general-audience fantasy novel ever written, it’s actually quite agreeable. The addition of Joffrey Unthank and his orphanage/factory is straight outta Lemony Snicket, which both is and isn’t an improvement on the first book. It’s an improvement because a lot of the weirder “real world” parts make sense if the “real world” in this universe is a Snicketesque realm of absurdism. Yet it’s also a step back because there was no indication in book one that this world was like that. It’s a good ret-con, but still a ret-con. And even in such a surreal place, Mom and Dad Mehlberg leaving their two remaining children in such a place while they go to search for their son doesn’t jive with what little we know about them. Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire wound up in situations this bad and worse, but their parents were dead. Big difference. [image] On a related note, the almost bloodless battle between the kids and the Industrial Titans’ goons was underwhelming after the spectacle at the Plinth in the first book, wherein people actually died and there were fantastical creatures. This one felt a little too much like the end of a '90s family comedy. It just did not go with the tone of the previous book, or this one up until that point. As for the Titans themselves, Big Business being the villain has become cliché, but it usually doesn’t share antagonist duties with faceless magical forces, so watching the heroes battle both in Wildwood Imperium should actually be interesting. The hipster milieu from the first book has also been greatly toned down. It has receded to the background, where it’s just fine. Prue and Curtis no longer try to wriggle out of their destined duties, and they certainly aren’t ranting anymore about emotional support while everyone else is marching off to die. They have figured out that pacifism is a good policy in Portland, but will not save you from an evil sorceress or a shape-shifting assassin. When one lives in two different worlds, one can accommodate two different worldviews. Also no more posturing about expensive jeans or coffee. They were actually believable twelve-year-olds this time around. And Curtis got called out for being selfish and oblivious—by Prue, by the narrator, and by his own conscience. Character development. It’s a good thing. Rachel and Elsie, Curtis’ sisters, are not terribly unique—Rachel is a typical sulky goth teen, Elsie is a typical bright-eyed little girl who brings her doll everywhere—but they were believable and likeable enough. They reminded me of both Susan and Lucy Pevensie from Narnia, and Wirt and Greg from Over the Garden Wall. Both very nice sets of sibling characters to be reminded of. [image] [image] The most interesting new addition to the ensemble hasn’t even shown up yet. Remember Alexei, son of Alexandra? When he died, she went mad with grief and forced two Daedalus-like geniuses to rebuild him as an automaton, only for Alexei to figure out what he really was and destroy himself. Well, Prue has been told by the Great Tree that her task is to revive Alexei somehow, that only this can save the Wood. Some reviewers think this refers to an act of dark magic, and while it might, I can see another possibility: Prue must descend into this universe’s Land of the Dead, find Alexei, and help him “return to the Sunlit Lands” (h/t The Silver Chair ). I really hope this is what Meloy means: the descent and return of figures like Persephone, Dionysus, Orpheus and Psyche are some of the most potent stories in all of mythology. [image] All told, this was a decent book, much better than I expected one in this series to be, and my curiosity is piqued for the third and final installment. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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May 03, 2018
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May 08, 2018
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Jan 22, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0439404371
| 9780439404372
| 0439404371
| 3.98
| 99,417
| Jan 2000
| Sep 2002
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really liked it
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Twelve-year-old Prosper and his little brother, Bo (short for Boniface), live with their friends in an abandoned movie theater deep in Venice. The bro
Twelve-year-old Prosper and his little brother, Bo (short for Boniface), live with their friends in an abandoned movie theater deep in Venice. The brothers are fleeing from an uncaring aunt who would keep Bo at her side like a lapdog and send Prosper to a faraway boarding school. Their roommates—Hornet, Mosca, and Riccio,—are homeless kids with nowhere else to go. They survive by stealing food and picking pockets. The leader of their little group is named Scipio. His living quarters are unknown. He provides the others with blankets and other necessities, and delights them with the treasures that he steals. For Scipio is a thief—the self-proclaimed “Thief Lord” who has developed a fearsome reputation for himself in the city’s underworld. Everyone also assumes that the Thief Lord is an adult, not the scrawny twelve-year-old mincing about the rooftops in a plague doctor mask. One fateful day, a mysterious Comte offers Scipio a job that would make him a legend, with ramifications that neither he nor any of his crew have any idea of. When the heist collides with Aunt Esther’s quest for Bo and the crisis Scipio is running away from, some of these children will be faced with choices that will determine the rest of their lives. Content Advisory Violence: Characteristic of Funke, there’s some startling violent images here—i.e. the kids threatening to shoot Victor with his own gun, or Morosina pondering having her dogs tear the boys to pieces. No actual gore. (view spoiler)[Scipio’s father is emotionally abusive, but does not appear to be physically abusive. His apparent cruelty still takes a terrible toll on his son (hide spoiler)]. Sex: Absolutely nothing. Language: Squeaky clean. This is a book where supposedly gritty adult characters say “darn” and “heck” with no children present. (I wonder if this was license on the translator’s part. This translation is by Oliver Latsch, not Anthea Bell, who translated the Inkheart series, where the word “damn” was used as punctuation). Substance Abuse: Ida smokes. Everyone thinks it’s gross, including the characters living in an abandoned building which cannot have been particularly clean. Nightmare Fuel: (view spoiler)[The legendary magical item on the Isola Segreta turns out to be an enchanted carousel—ride the Lion of St. Mark and you’ll become younger, perch on the merman’s tail (or was it one of the other magical critters?) and you’ll age as many years as rotations you made round the carousel. The Comte and his sister, who appear emotionally frozen at about age nine, ride the winged lion until their bodies match their childish minds. Scipio takes the age-up creature and jumps off when he’s old enough to shave—considering he’s Italian he can probably shave already, but that’s beside the point. Barbarossa wants to be a young adult again, but loses the machine and emerges a sniveling five-year-old. Scipio’s psyche hasn’t caught up with his body, while Barbarossa’s adult mind and memories are caught inside a child’s body. (hide spoiler)] Politics and Religion: Riccio offers to disguise Prosper by “painting [him] black like Mosca” (this does not happen and I don’t think any larger statement was meant, but still, as an American it’s a bit cringey). Conclusions The Thief Lord features a strong atmosphere, a fascinating supernatural element, and an intriguing title character. Unfortunately, the atmosphere doesn’t always match the plot, the supernatural element isn’t even hinted at until halfway through the book, and the title character plays second fiddle to a rather bland protagonist and a colorful supporting cast member who doesn’t fit the mood of the piece. A Venetian setting will always make a book interesting. There’s something about winged lions and mermaids and masques and gondolas and canals full of deep, dark water that draws me in every time. In The Thief Lord, the setting is a character, and this definitely works in its favor. The movie theater where the kids live is like Venice itself in miniature: ancient, grimy, secretive, and somehow still starry and magical. Scipio fits into this environment seamlessly for most of the story. He’s like a cat, charismatic and glamorous and self-sufficient and disappearing for long periods of time. Yet like all characters who wear a mask, we know that he struggles with self-loathing, and the part of his life hidden from his friends is probably highly disagreeable. All this turns out to be true about him; Funke never examines his dysfunctional home life in any great depth, but that’s forgivable in a middle-grade book, especially one like this with one foot in reality and the other in the land of magic. (view spoiler)[What bothered me about Scipio was that all his problems seemed to evaporate once he took a spin on the carousel and emerged as a young man. These wishes, in myths and fairytales, tend to backfire spectacularly on the wisher. Scipio’s wish was completely understandable, but again, there’s usually a punishment for willfully disrupting the cycle of things like that. It was annoying that, to paraphrase Florence and the Machine, his gift didn’t come with a price (hide spoiler)]. This whole theme of youth and age is pretty deep. I found it intriguing that the Comte and his sister apparently never got over watching their employers’ children playing while they had to work—they find the key to regaining their youth and the first thing they do is take over the old manor. They play with the rich-kid toys they used to envy, and even that doesn’t make them happy. There’s Barbarossa, who seems to have been stuck in the intense selfishness of a five-year-old. His punishment is pure nightmare fuel, but fitting. Then there’s Aunt Esther, who wants Bo to stop aging at six, and has no use for Prosper because he needs guidance more than hugs and is no longer cute. I just wish that the first half of the book had featured these themes, and the element of magic. As is, the first half was mostly Victor donning bad disguises, walking into obvious set-ups, and fussing over his tortoises. I found Victor adorable, by himself and with his perfect match, Ida. But starting the book off like that makes it seem goofier and lower-stakes than I think Funke intended. The magical element also sprang up out of nowhere, without even a hint. All we needed was a brief flicker of it—one of the St. Mark’s Lions around the city could come to life for a few seconds, or one of the kids could glimpse a mermaid or merman in a canal. Maybe there’s a location in the city where time freezes or accelerates or goes backwards, foreshadowing the pivotal event of the novel. The way it was executed, it was jarring—like if the Baudelaire kids in A Series of Unfortunate Events had learned that that Sugar Bowl everyone was fighting over could make its owner invisible. I don’t mind surprises, but it’s nice when the genre of a book is clear and consistent throughout. Finally, I found the lack of empathy displayed by the children (and some of the adults) in the book downright alarming—understandable, but still not the traits you’d want in a hero. The kids, Bo and Mosca largely excepted, are all rotten to Victor when they first meet him—much more rotten than their situation actually requires. And while I can’t blame them for this, everyone seems delighted with what happened to Barbarossa. He’s horrid, but it’s still bad form to jeer at him in his reduced state. I had this problem with Inkheart, too—even the usually good kids have many moments of being startlingly bratty. This book is harmless fun. This is the first time I’ve read it, but I know that the eleven-year-old me would have been beguiled by the Venetian setting and fallen in love with Scipio, the pre-teen Byronic hero. It flew by and kept me up late turning pages. I think many of you will like it too. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jan 13, 2019
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Jan 17, 2019
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Jan 03, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0785217142
| 9780785217145
| 0785217142
| 3.89
| 5,209
| Jul 10, 2018
| Jul 10, 2018
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really liked it
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A parallel England, 1604 Thomas Fawkes is embarrassed. He’s sixteen now, the only student at St. Peter’s Color Academy in York who hasn’t been given hi A parallel England, 1604 Thomas Fawkes is embarrassed. He’s sixteen now, the only student at St. Peter’s Color Academy in York who hasn’t been given his own mask and can’t speak to any color. (I’ll explain to the best of my ability, something the book itself neglects to do). Thomas gets booted from school. With no friends or family to take him in, he heads to London, drawn by the rumor that his father, Guy Fawkes the famous mercenary, has returned to England. After a number of misadventures, Thomas stumbles upon his father. But dear old Dad isn’t nearly as enthused about discovering his long-lost son as he is about the plot he and some allies have concocted to assassinate King James and all of Parliament. This plot is just the latest escalation in a century-long war between two different philosophies of magic. The Keepers believe that each individual should only manipulate a single color, and the White Light at the source of the color spectrum is too dangerous for anyone but the wise to talk to. The Igniters commune directly with the White Light and use it to manipulate all the colors. Thomas is a Keeper like his father before him. But he learns that someone else has a plan about that… Content Advisory Violence: Several brief but rather nail-biting sword fights, and a shootout at the end. A man goes about stabbing people and animals with an infected knife and giving them the plague. The MC and his young lady friend are frequently menaced by hoodlums and conspirators in dark alleys. One of these scuffles leaves Thomas bleeding profusely. There are two mass hangings, one including a child, who escapes the noose and runs. Brief discussion of the full punishment for treason: hanging until nearly dead, drawing (disembowelment) and quartering (dismemberment). A man strikes his fiancée across the face. She hits back. The whole plot revolves about a bunch of men plotting to blow a building filled with hundreds of people to kingdom come. Sex: Some verbal sparring, buttoned-up, costume-drama flirtation, and a single kiss between Thom and Emma. Our hero watches with contemptuous amusement as a young couple sneaks away from a party with obvious horniness. Language: One or two uses of “bloody.” Substance Abuse: Some of the plotters seem to be heavy boozers. In fairness, they could hardly drink the water in 1604 London… Nightmare Fuel: This universe suffers a magical blight called the Stone Plague, which literally petrifies its victims. Sometimes it spreads quickly through the host body, turning them into a statue in a matter of minutes. Other times it fastens to a particular part of the anatomy and destroys it long before it kills the victim. When we first meet Thomas, he has a stone eye and eyelid which he hides under an eye patch. (view spoiler)[He briefly becomes entirely stone, before the plague recedes but maintains its hold on both his eyes. A while later, he regains his sight in a highly symbolic manner (hide spoiler)]. Politics: We see the beginning of racism in England as it joins in the African slave trade. Many Londoners get spooked when they see a black person. King James holds a masquerade with a slavery theme, wherein white nobles paint themselves ebon—it’s not quite the same thing as the vile minstrel shows that appeared in the United States in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, but this is where it started. Thomas rightly feels uncomfortable watching. Religion: The whole thing is an allegory of the Protestant Reformation, veiled very thinly indeed. The White Light is clearly God, Who is portrayed with more affability and snark than grandeur. [image] Kill the King, Brandes’ historical notes at the end of the book are extremely brief, and assume the reader already knows most of the true story. I myself knew little of this particular episode, so here’s some background info. Let’s start with a timeline of the Reformation: 1517 – Martin Luther, disgusted by the corruption of the Renaissance Vatican, writes the 95 Theses, starting Reformation fever throughout Europe. 1532 – Henry VIII, driven by paranoia over a lack of male heirs and an obsession with one of his wife’s ladies-in-waiting, declares the Pope has no authority in England. Catholic religious, and secular subjects who refuse to follow Henry as religious leader, are executed. 1553 – Mary I, Catholic daughter of Henry and Catherine of Aragon, inherits the throne from her Protestant half-brother Edward VI. Intending to eradicate Protestantism from England, Mary has nearly 300 Protestants burned at the stake as heretics. 1570 – Pope Pius V issues a papal bull declaring Elizabeth I, Protestant daughter of Henry and Anne Boleyn, illegitimate and absolving her subjects of having to follow her. Elizabeth doesn’t want to kill subjects just for having a different religious practice—it didn’t exactly make her father or sister popular—but she has no qualms about executing those she sees as disloyal, and as her reign goes on, these people become disproportionately Catholic (or Puritan, but that’s a story for another time). 1603 – James VI of Scotland becomes James I of England. English Catholics hope for an ally in James, since his mother Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, was a staunch Catholic. But James is Protestant and continues his cousin Elizabeth’s legacy of persecution. Ostensibly, Catholics in England had the right to worship as they chose, provided they professed the British crown, and not the Papacy, was the most important power on Earth. But thousands of Catholics cherished the Church above the State and were called traitors for it. The punishment for treason, as mentioned earlier, was hanging, drawing, and quartering. This was the environment in which several desperate, unhinged Catholic Englishmen concluded that the only way to stop the persecution was to blast King James and Parliament to smithereens. The plot itself proceeded quite closely to how it was portrayed in the novel. The only major difference, besides the given one that the real plotters had no magical powers to help them, is the presence of young Thomas Fawkes. The International Genealogy Index (IGI), compiled by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, records that Guy Fawkes married Maria Pulleyn, daughter of his schoolmaster, in 1590, and their son Thomas was born in 1591. But these records are considered a secondary source, and there’s no other known information about the marriage or Thomas. Covered in the Colors, Pulled Apart at the Seams I give Nadine Brandes all kinds of credit for coming up with this world. It’s colorful (I’m sorry), exciting, and a fine place to immerse yourself for a few days of reading. There’s just one problem. The magic system, while beguiling, doesn’t make any sense. Magic is a hard thing to write well. Too much explanation takes the wonder out of it, when wonder is the whole point of having magic in the first place. But at the same time, too little explanation of the magic in a given story can be maddening. Especially if it’s one of those books where Everyone is a Mage. Fawkes is one of those books. My favorite example of a magic system remains the one Garth Nix created for his Old Kingdom universe. It’s consistent and as lucid as magic ever could be without completely stripping it of mystery and glamour. He spends a few pages in the early chapters of Sabriel detailing the MC’s magical education and methods. By taking a little time to explain, instead of dropping the reader headfirst into a foreign world, Nix never needs to repeat it, and we can follow the rest of the story with ease. When Sabriel writes a rune in the air or rings any of her sacred bells, we know precisely what she’s doing, why she’s doing it, and what the likely result will be. Whereas when Emma Areben, Benedict Norwood, and the other characters of Fawkes did their color-speaking, I often had no idea what to picture. Below, the magic system of this book as far as I could understand it: In this universe, colors are semi-sentient entities. A given person can bond with a specific color (never really explained how) and the objects around them that are their color obey them. Someone who communes with Red can drain the blood from an enemy’s body, or alternatively coax the heart of a freshly-dead friend into beating again. [image] A Blue-speaker can manipulate water. [image] A Grey-speaker can lift rocks. [image] A Brown-speaker, like Emma, can command wood and soil. [image] It would appear that everyone but beggars has some color power in this society. Wearing a mask painted a given color solidifies a person’s bond with that color, which is why Thomas is so ashamed to be the only conspirator with no mask. But the function of the masks themselves is unclear. This is a good place to mention that THERE’S NO FUN IN A MASQUERADE BALL IF EVERYONE WEARS A MASK ALL THE TIME ANYWAY. The most powerful color is the White Light, which is the font of all other colors. Let the Spectrum In [image] By the time this story begins, the color-control system has been in place for one-thousand six-hundred years. In the olden times, the White Light reached out to people directly, but the wise men taught that ordinary people were too weak to speak to it, the source of all power. So for centuries, only those sages could interact directly with the Light. Ordinary folk were discouraged from seeking it out and told to ignore it if it sought them instead. Each mage was allowed to only manipulate a single color… …until the mid-sixteenth century, when someone whom the book refers to only as “Luther” and some unnamed allies had a breakthrough. Why, everyone should be able to talk to the White Light! And use it to manipulate all the colors! These radical dudes became known as “Igniters”, opposed to the “Keepers” of the old ways. It’s like the Verities vs. the EƋians in My Lady Jane, only without the humor. Brandes actually does an excellent job showing the brutality of the Protestant English regime to its Catholic subjects. But while the book is sympathetic to the Catholic plight, it’s still based on a misunderstanding of what the Reformation was really about. What a lot of people don’t know about Martin Luther is that he really didn’t want to split from the Church in Rome. He had no problem with the Catholic practices modern Protestants tend to find unnerving—perhaps most startlingly, he maintained a lifelong devotion to the Virgin Mary. Luther never even left the Church of his own volition; he was excommunicated by the Pope. He felt compelled to speak against Church corruption, which by his time was rank. Luther was sent to Rome for a conference of his monastic order, where he witnessed priests mocking their faith and participating in debauchery. In 1516 – 17, Pope Leo X initiated a new program of indulgences—wherein people paid the Church to forgive their own sins or let the souls of their dearly departed out of Hell. The Vatican coffers were empty because Leo emptied them on hunting expeditions and depraved parties. The higher branches of Church bureaucracy were heavy with equally rotten fruit. From Luther’s famous anti-indulgence post on the cathedral doors, other thinkers piled on until they had a movement, and what had started as an uptight, fiery German monk trying to clean up the extant Church became innumerable men building churches of their own. Heads of state saw the opportunity to drive papal authority out of their lands. Henry VIII was about as spiritual as the average aardvark, he just wanted the power to grant himself divorces. Back to Fawkes . Keepers = Catholics. Igniters = Protestants. White Light = God. Talking to the White Light = prayer/reading the Bible. So Brandes is implying that the Catholic hierarchy did not even allow the faithful to pray to God directly. Wow. What?!? And then there’s that “They weren’t even allowed to read the Bible!” meme that Melanie Dickerson already beat to death five books ago. The average pauper or peasant during the medieval and Renaissance eras couldn’t read, period. Public schools didn’t exist; only the wealthy could afford tutors or college. But the Church, for all its other horrifying problems, really did want the people to know the foundational stories of their faith. So they covered churches in art depicting scenes from the Bible and the lives of the saints. The major episodes of the Life of Christ were also told through the specific artwork/meditation combination called the Stations of the Cross, and the lengthy meditative prayer, the Rosary. The lower classes may not have been able to quote the Scriptures word for word, but they knew what they believed, and they prayed frequently, multiple times a day. The idea that the entire Catholic Church conspired for centuries to keep the populace ignorant of the Bible’s contents is ludicrous. If you want to make the Reformation look like a good or at least necessary thing, all you need to do is tell the truth. The Vatican was a playground for power-hungry monsters, and they preyed on peoples’ fear of Hellfire to take their money. Someone needed to shine a light on these cockroaches, and Luther (who had some serious issues himself) wound up being the one who started it. As a Catholic, I’m grateful that someone did it, because I hate to imagine what my church would look like now with no reform. The reality is a much better story than the Don’t-Let-Them-Read-the-Bible conspiracy. Conclusions Fawkes merges history with fantasy elements, which don’t always make sense but are certainly entertaining. The book is a lot of fun for its own sake and would make a fantastic movie. That said, I found that it misconstrued what the fight between the Gunpowder Plotters and the King was really about. Just remember that it’s meant to entertain more than educate and I think you’ll enjoy it as I did. ...more |
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1
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Nov 07, 2018
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Nov 14, 2018
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Dec 04, 2017
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Hardcover
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| 0062391747
| 9780062391742
| 0062391747
| 4.02
| 67,864
| Jun 07, 2016
| Jun 07, 2016
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really liked it
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In the tradition of such gems of satirical whimsy as The Princess Bride, Howl’s Moving Castleand The Wee Free Men (in fact, I caught a few PB referenc
In the tradition of such gems of satirical whimsy as The Princess Bride, Howl’s Moving Castleand The Wee Free Men (in fact, I caught a few PB references and a possible shout-out to WFM), My Lady Jane is a rollicking fairytale-inspired adventure. Like PB and HMC, it features swoony romance balanced out by lots of humor. What makes this one unique is that it doubles as alternative history. In this parallel universe, half the population of England are ordinary humans, and half are shape-shifters called EƋians, each taking on the shape of the animal that best suits their personality. EƋians have historically been persecuted, although this was alleviated somewhat when King Henry VIII revealed his lion alter-ego, and used it to terrorize and occasionally devour his enemies at home and abroad. Now Henry is dead and his frail son, sixteen-year-old Edward, rules. Edward knows he probably won’t live long, given his illness (amusingly known only as “the Affliction”), and he sulks over the prospect of never getting to kiss a girl. He’s a lonely lad, whose only true companion is his little lapdog, Petunia or Pet for short. Edward has a vague feeling that his officials are exploiting him, but investigating further would take away valuable time from his wallowing-in-self-pity schedule. Told repeatedly by the royal doctor that he’ll die any day now, Edward is pressured by his chancellor, Lord Dudley, to name his cousin Lady Jane Grey—or rather, her eventual son—as heir to the throne. Meanwhile Dudley has arranged for Jane to marry his son Gifford, who has been kept out of public life. Rumors swirl around Gifford—some say he spends his days in taverns and brothels; others allege that he’s mad or “simple” and is locked in a room in the family manor. The truth is that Gifford—G, as he would rather be called—is an EƋian who can’t control his metamorphosis. Through no fault of his own, he is only human at night. He spends his daylight hours as a horse. A magnificent horse, he would want me to add. Jane is skeptical of yet another strategic engagement, and would much rather be left to herself to read. She becomes even more biased against her future husband when his older brother maliciously tells her that Gifford is a rake. (This isn’t true at all, but poor Jane will spend the bulk of the book believing it). Suffice that the unhappy girl is made even more miserable by the strange arrangements for the wedding, such as the insistence on holding it after sundown, and makes a terrible impression on her new husband, who has no idea what he’s done that she should already resent him. They spend the wedding night not going near each other, and the situation is not helped in the least when he transforms into a stallion in the first rays of dawn. Meanwhile, Edward makes two shocking discoveries. One, his doctor and his old nursemaid are in a conspiracy with Lord Dudley and several other officials, and have been poisoning him slowly for some time. Two, his little dog is really an EƋian—a rather stupid one who’s much more used to her dog form. In human form, she’s too stupid to realize she needs clothes. Faced with the threat of assassination, Edward is encouraged by his sister Elizabeth, called Bess in this story, to reach inside himself for his own inner EƋian—she reveals to him that his mother, the late Jane Seymour, could turn into a lovely white swan. Edward’s alter ego is also winged—a kestrel. In this disguise he flees the palace and makes for the out-of-the-way country lodge where his grandmother, Elizabeth of York, still lives, despite the public believing she’s been dead for fifty years. Jane and Gifford are busy bickering and not even attempting to act married when they are summoned to London in the dead of night. They are told that Edward has died, and before she can process what’s happened Jane is crowned queen. Then almost immediately she and her husband are dethroned, imprisoned, and sentenced to execution by Mary. Mary belongs to a faction called the Verities, who believe that all EƋians should be killed. (view spoiler)[In this crisis, Jane, who’s always secretly wished to be an EƋian, discovers that she is one, her animal form being a ferret. (hide spoiler)] She and Gifford flee with Pet to Elizabeth of York’s house… Meanwhile Edward, who apparently has no sense of direction as a kestrel, has gotten himself lost in Scotland, and is saved from certain death by a pretty and feisty young urchin named Gracie. Gracie is—wait for it—an EƋian herself. Her animal shape is a fox, which Edward believes suits her very well. Because, well, you know…she’s [image] Eventually they all (view spoiler)[(including Bess, who can turn into a black cat like her mother before her) (hide spoiler)] meet up at “Gran’s” place and form a crazy plan to take back England from Mary before she purges the island of EƋians. My Lady Jane is enormous fun overall. I sped through the book, laughing out loud at least twenty times. As I mentioned earlier, the sense of humor is very similar to The Princess Bride and that’s one of my favorite movies (I still have yet to read the book). If you liked that, you’ll probably enjoy this too. Really, there were only two things that bothered me about this book. The first complaint is that the EƋians vs. Verities conflict is a thinly disguised allegory for Protestants vs. Catholics—even though the metaphor would work better the other way around. Observe that it was the prim and proper European countries that turned Protestant during the Reformation, while the wild and crazy peoples—the Spanish, the French, and especially the Italians—remained Catholic. Watch this Simpsons clip and tell me which of the two Heavens you’re more likely to find shape-shifters in: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4Ile... That said, I can’t help but feel that the book is obliquely—and possibly accidentally—anti-Catholic. And while Mary I gets a bad rep from nearly everyone, I can feel only pity for her, after the humiliation and emotional trauma she suffered from age twelve on up at the hands of her father, and eventually her skeevy husband, Phillip II of Spain. That said, I’m not surprised but still disappointed that these authors decided to make her the one-dimensional villain of the piece. Her backstory is immensely sympathetic but never even alluded to, and (view spoiler)[her hidden EƋian form is that of a donkey, which is how we leave her in this story. It might be a shout-out to Rabadash’s fall in The Horse and His Boy, but even so—Mary deserved better. (hide spoiler)] Also, I’m a huge fan of Elizabeth I, but she turned into a bloodthirsty and paranoid anti-Catholic in her old age and it always annoys me when this goes unaddressed. There is no mention in this book of how “good Queen Bess” went on to hunt “Verities” out of the country and behead those that she found. The other quibble is only for the first quarter of the book, but irritated me quite a bit while it lasted: the constant snickering at Lord Dudley and his elder son, Stan, for having large noses. Bringing it up once would have been excusable, but it was a running gag for the first hundred pages or so and got to seeming very childish. You’d think it had never occurred to these three ladies that some men with big noses are actually quite handsome. Here’s a few I could think of right away: [image] [image] [image] Bet you wouldn't say no to any of them, now would you, Jane? Overall, this is a frothy, good-natured, frequently hilarious little YA novel. There is only one instance of real violence, a few innuendoes (mostly involving how EƋians always involuntarily lose their clothes when they morph) and no other problematic content. Fine for ages 13 and up. Just please remember that Mary Tudor had a good reason to be the way she was, and that Catholics and people with big noses are human too. ...more |
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1
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Dec 09, 2017
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Dec 11, 2017
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Nov 19, 2017
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Hardcover
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| 1484724984
| 9781484724989
| 1484724984
| 4.29
| 30,220
| Sep 04, 2015
| Sep 04, 2015
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liked it
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On a cold, remote, seemingly backward planet with two distinct, isolationist cultures, a boy and a girl, he a settler and her a native, dream of being
On a cold, remote, seemingly backward planet with two distinct, isolationist cultures, a boy and a girl, he a settler and her a native, dream of being TIE pilots for the mighty Galactic Empire. Thane Kyrell and Ciena Ree won’t let anything get in the way of their shared dream. But while they are strong together in the face of disapproval from their families and snobbery at their imperial piloting academy, they break apart when confronted with proof of the Empire’s evil. Thane, the firebrand, can’t stand for this and eventually joins the Rebellion. Ciena, the principled one, stays on an increasingly Dark Side due to a misapplied sense of honor. But even as the War drags on, and these two childhood friends/on-again off-again lovers meet in battle after battle, they still can’t make themselves kill each other… Content Advisory Violence: The violence here is about the same amount and intensity as that of a Star Wars movie. Both Death Stars and a number of smaller spaceships get blown up—here we know some of the characters on those ships. Thane tries to convince Ciena to abandon her ship and reluctantly fights back when she strikes him (he is eventually able to capture her). As a child, Thane was regularly beaten by his father. Sex: Thane and Ciena impulsively hook up twice, in spite of dire consequences for both should they be caught together. These scenes are not raunchy or overly detailed, but they do contain a lot of these two hormonal kids kissing, snuggling, and ogling each other. On another occasion, one of Thane’s bros makes a mild pass at Ciena, and continues to have a crush on her throughout. There is a brief reference to a boy watching a pornographic hologram in his dorm room. I will be ranting about this last point later in the review. Language: A few “damns” and “hells”, in addition to nonsense words that are only swears in this universe. Substance Abuse: Thane gets roaring drunk a few times to deal with his dreadful circumstances. One time Ciena joins him, but she usually has tighter self-control. Nightmare Fuel: Emperor Palpatine/Darth Sidious is really creepy. So is Vader. I figured everyone here would know that, but one can never be sure. Conclusions In Lost Stars, Claudia Gray’s adorable enthusiasm for the Star Wars universe is on full display. Unfortunately, so are many regrettable tropes she probably picked up from the mainstream YA market. While I certainly felt bad for Thane and Ciena, neither has much going on in their heads. If one were to draw maps of their brains, one hemisphere would be labeled “Hormones/Relationship Drama” and the other would be labeled “Getting in a TIE Fighter/X-Wing and Blowing Things Up.” Thane has three moods: miserable, angry, and enraged. Ciena is more stable, but she’s also willfully blind and unable to adjust to change. The most interesting character in the book is Thane’s pal Nash Windrider, who has a far bigger reason to hate the Empire than either protagonist (he’s from Alderaan) yet remains staunchly loyal because he’d go insane if he let what happened to his home planet sink in. Nash spends the bulk of the book with an unrequited crush on Ciena, and I kept hoping she’d give him a chance because unlike Thane, Nash actually has more than two thoughts. As for the (excuse the pun) star-crossed romance at the center of this novel…it’s 99.9% pure raging hormones, which is odd because these two characters grew up together and would have noticed each other that way long ago if they were romantically compatible. If they’re really friends from early childhood, then their relationship should be less intense and more chastely portrayed. If they’re mutually attracted enemies who hate that they want each other, they should have met as young adults. But Thane and Ciena are so thoroughly marinated in lust, it’s like they barely know each other, yet we’re told that they have been inseparable since age eight. It just doesn’t add up. My friends Neil and Angelica, in their reviews, pointed out that the culture portrayed in this book is very modern, frequently crass, and generally a lot more like Star Trek than Star Wars. The galaxy far, far away seems so old-fashioned in most ways that it seems unlikely that its members are this cavalier about sex or alcohol. Not to mention that the films themselves are some of the cleanest blockbusters on the market. The parts about Thane getting drunk, or his and Nash’s obnoxious roommate watching porn with them in the room, just felt weird. Like a Lord of the Rings fanfic where hobbits trade bawdy jokes, or a Narnia fic portraying Tumnus as a womanizer. It did not feel consistent with the spirit of the saga. Aside from the romance, there is very little story here. The plot is a sped-up, abridged version of the original film trilogy, with Ciena and Thane just tagging along. It’s like the old PBS Kids show Liberty’s Kids, only with Star Wars instead of the American Revolution. This was a fine plot structure for Liberty’s Kids, because it was meant to teach history and aimed at eleven-year-olds. But this is ostensibly YA/adult and really ought to just have more going on in it. Take away the personal journeys of Luke, Leia and Han—and their connection with Vader, unknown to most around them—and there’s not much here but spaceships going kablooie. [image] Speaking of Liberty’s Kids, that’s not the only similarity between the two seemingly disparate works. The cartoon also featured two young folks on either side of the war, who started out zealots for their respective sides, became attracted to each other, and eventually came to seriously question the righteousness of their causes. In both cases the young man has only one mood, a plateau of angst, while the girl is more reserved and traditional but deadly when angered. But the relationship between James Hiller and Sarah Phillips in LK is actually developed a lot better than that of Thane and Ciena. James and Sarah met in their mid-teens and immediately clashed. Yet it was obvious from the beginning that he was drawn to her, and she started (slowly) softening towards him when she realized that for a seditionist and traitor, he wasn’t a bad fellow. Both started out the war absolutely sure that they were right, but had to grapple with their beliefs when they witnessed both sides commit atrocities. And because this was a middle-grade show (on PBS, not on Nickelodeon where Zuko could take his shirt off on a regular basis), James’ growing (and eventually reciprocated) interest had to be shown in subtle ways—he gave Sarah his coat when she was cold, he made her a necklace (with his dead mother’s ring for a pendant) when she lost her own choker, he got very annoyed whenever another young man paid her attention…I’m not saying that this book needed to be that buttoned-up, but if Thane had ever made a kind gesture like that for Ciena, or she for him, that would have meant so much. It would have proved that they actually cared about each other as people, that they felt love and empathy for each other as opposed to only lust. [image] The world Lucas created is interesting and fun, but does not hold up under close inspection. We’re talking about a universe where humans, humanoids, and other large sentient life-forms can thrive on all kinds of planets, including gas giants! All the planets appear to rotate on the exact same schedule and contain the same amount of gravity. Every atmosphere contains enough oxygen for humans to breathe and apparently no poisonous gases. Let’s not even discuss that time that two dudes in heavy robes had a sword fight on floating islands in a stream of lava—in our world or a world anything like ours, their blood would have boiled in their veins and their skulls might have exploded (just ask the poor citizens of Pompeii or Herculaneum). What makes Star Wars magical for me, in spite of the massive suspension of disbelief required for its universe to exist, is the characters... Anakin, the frightened (man)child forced into a destiny he was never ready for. Obi-Wan, the proud young warrior who learned too dearly the consequences of hubris. Padme, the gentle and lonely young queen who believed the best of her husband even when all the goodness in him was naught but a dulling ember. (The prequels had terrible scripts, but the characters’ struggles are compelling when described by anyone but Lucas)... Luke, the fatherless boy whose worst fear came true. Leia, the dauntless princess whose only goal was to serve the galaxy. Han, the mercenary who found himself offering his own life to save his friends... [image] Poe, the reckless zealot with the Empire/First Order in his crosshairs. Rose, the tough and kind Resistance mechanic who never forgets what they’re fighting for. Finn, the traumatized Stormtrooper who might have altered the prophecies. Rey, the noble-minded scavenger with a heart full of anger, grief, and a frightening power. Kylo—Ben—the broken and beastly prince, the dark and splintered knight, a being of incredible strength and passion yet a haunted child still, slowly dying under the weight of his family’s sins, desperately reaching for the girl who cared enough to hold his hand from light-years away. [image] [image] [image] And that is ultimately why Lost Stars fell flat for me—the Skywalker-Solos were distant figures. Other than Vader, they didn’t even have any lines. And I missed them. Anything else would have been far-fetched, granted—there’s no Thane, Ciena, or Nash mentioned in the original films, so they can’t have been part of either Light or Dark inner circles. But still—the drama between these characters felt manufactured and cheap compared to the truly inspired, epic journeys of the core movie characters. That said, I still like how Claudia Gray writes and would read more stuff by her, Star Wars or otherwise. Maybe they should commission her to write a book about Padme or Kylo. I share her sympathies for those characters and would love to read her take on them. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Apr 02, 2018
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Apr 09, 2018
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Nov 13, 2017
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Hardcover
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| 0192801694
| 9780192801692
| 0192801694
| 3.59
| 23,319
| 1907
| Apr 29, 2004
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really liked it
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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Nov 05, 2017
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Nov 05, 2017
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Nov 05, 2017
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Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0395076307
| 9780395076309
| 0395076307
| 4.11
| 1,783
| 1936
| Jun 01, 1948
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it was amazing
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This companion and pseudo-prequel to Douglas’ best-seller
The Robe
chronicles the ministry of Jesus from His calling of the first inauspicious Apo
This companion and pseudo-prequel to Douglas’ best-seller
The Robe
chronicles the ministry of Jesus from His calling of the first inauspicious Apostles to the Church that rose and grew so rapidly in the first few years following His death, resurrection, and withdrawal from the world. We see these events unfold through the eyes of Simon, known to history as St. Peter, the Big Fisherman himself, who was such a majestic and comforting presence in The Robe. He shares point-of-view duties with Fara/Esther, the apparently fictional daughter of Herod Antipas and Phasaelis (called Arnon in the novel) an Arabian princess whom he was forced to marry for political reasons and divorced in favor of his older, cougarish sister-in-law Herodias. Of the two protagonists, Fara has the more adventurous life. At age twelve, she swore to avenge her mother’s honor, and when her mother dies young of a mysterious illness four years later, the girl takes off for Judaea, disguised as a boy for her safety, aiming to assassinate her faithless father. Near the start of her quest, she runs into John the Baptist, finding him sympathetic and inspiring but frightened by his vision of the future. She is followed after several months by her boyfriend, Voldi, who becomes friends with the Roman Mencius (who also appears in The Robe) and both become embroiled in the events of Passion Week, but neither to the same extent as Peter or Fara. Peter, born Simon, is just a fisherman of Capernaum with little education and no use for religion. He hears of an itinerant preacher with apparently magical healing powers from his young friend John, son of Zebedee. Annoyed that someone has taken John’s attention away from his job fishing, Peter storms off to one of Jesus’ sermons, and witnesses the Man of Galilee give eyesight to a toddler who was clearly blind before. His whole worldview shaken, Simon spends the next several weeks irritable and depressed. Meanwhile, Fara, under the alias Esther, seeks refuge in Simon’s mother-in-law’s house, and gets a day job as a maid at Antipas’ palace, where she hopes to eventually carry out her oath. Then Jesus calls Simon to follow him, and the miserable man only feels right in the presence of the Carpenter, so he obeys Him. His brother Andrew and his friends James and John soon join them. As Jesus travels across the country, trailing miracles in His wake, His following swells. After Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law with Fara as witness, He convinces her to follow Him, and she does. We witness the dance of Salome and the execution of John the Baptist (all handled with the utmost discretion); the Feeding of the Five Thousand (which diverges a bit from Scripture, but nothing really alarming); the raising of Jairus’ daughter; the Last Supper; the sham trial, torture, and execution of Jesus; the Resurrection; the meeting on the road to Emmaus; the Ascension; the Pentecost; and finally the events immediately leading up to Peter’s execution in Rome. There are fleeting references throughout to Marcellus, Senator Gallio, Demetrius, and other characters from The Robe, which was fun. Mencius is an important supporting character in both. The Big Fisherman is not quite as good as its predecessor—it feels rushed in parts, and Voldi’s arc is a lot more melodramatic than anything in The Robe. This book is also a bit more didactic in the religious department, which might have been inevitable since Jesus is actually a character this time, rather than a permeating invisible presence. But The Robe was a sky-high bar to clear, and I can forgive Douglas if he can’t quite vault it this time. The character development for Simon/Peter is obviously quite good; he seems ready to step off the page by the end. Fara/Esther is not quite as developed, but she has spirit and gives up everything for her beliefs and the safety of her loved ones, making her a truly heroic character. Douglas’ Jesus is very gentle, gracious, and wise. The book makes a point of contrasting Him with His spitfire cousin John, a ploy which unfortunately makes His outburst at the money-changers in the Temple seem far out-of-character, but overall is quite effective. Douglas also makes a point of showing Jesus doing His day job—He was a carpenter, remember?—and doing it exceptionally well. I wish as a Catholic that Douglas could have made the Virgin Mary part of the story. It is strange that Esther was a female disciple but never met either her or Magdalene. Oh well. Douglas was a Protestant, so his avoidance of the subject is understandable. This book seemed to play loosely with history at times (for instance, Herod Antipas died in exile but was probably not assassinated as shown here) but a story set this far back in time, with so few complete records of anything, has a lot more wiggle-room in this regard than something from the Renaissance onwards. The violence (except for the Passions of the Baptist and Jesus, neither of which is gorily portrayed) is nonexistent, the sex (just some insinuations regarding Herodias, Herod, and Salome) is also nonexistent, and there’s only the mildest of language and drunkenness. It would make a fine addition to the library at your church or upper-grade parochial school. It would also make a fine addition to your home library. Be sure to also read: The Robe , also by Lloyd C. Douglas Dear and Glorious Physician by Taylor Caldwell ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Nov 06, 2017
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Nov 26, 2017
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Jul 10, 2017
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0143039954
| 9780143039952
| 0143039954
| 3.81
| 1,110,642
| -700
| Oct 31, 2006
|
it was amazing
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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Apr 13, 2017
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Apr 15, 2017
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Apr 13, 2017
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Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 0439700930
| 9780439700931
| 0439700930
| 3.74
| 21,958
| Aug 2003
| Feb 01, 2005
|
it was amazing
|
The "Land of Elyon" in the series title is a small nation of fearful settlements, surrounded by a wall. Of the settlements, Bridewell is the closest t
The "Land of Elyon" in the series title is a small nation of fearful settlements, surrounded by a wall. Of the settlements, Bridewell is the closest to the Dark Hills outside the wall, which the settlers speculate are full of criminals and monsters. Precocious twelve-year-old Alexa Daley is the daughter of the mayor of another settlement. Every summer her father goes to Bridewell to consult with the other mayors, and she tags along to scrounge the library for information on the outside world. When she's not reading, Alexa pretends to be an explorer or detective. She won't need to pretend this year. Content Advisory Violence: A man plans a violent uprising which culminates in a siege, albeit with a low body count. The same man menaces a kid and tries to stab her with a poker. A brave squirrel is almost killed by two evil cats. (view spoiler)[The cats eventually get squished by a falling bookshelf. They had it coming, but violence against ANY animals is a no-go for some youngsters. Know your kids. (hide spoiler)] Sex: An adult asks our heroine if she's ever kissed a boy. Just a weird question for a grown-up to ask a kid. Language: None. Substance Abuse: Pervis is frequently hammered. The book does not glamorize his drinking, but neither does it judge him for it. Alexa eventually concludes that he drinks to deal with the stress of his perilous job. Politics and Religion: There are some Christian allegorical elements in this series. They are not obvious in this first book. I didn't find them preachy at all, but your mileage may vary. Nightmare Fuel: Nothing in this installment, but plenty in the later books. Again, know your kids! Conclusion The first installment in Patrick Carman's Elyon series is a solid middle-grade adventure/fantasy/mystery with a well-crafted setting and palpable sense of dread. Alexa is a brave and clever kid who has a good relationship with her dad and other authority figures. She never puts on airs about her intelligence. Looks and boys are not on her radar yet. Despite being very mature in some ways, she's still a kid who loses her temper and gets distracted by "unspeakably gross" things. The story certainly borrows elements of Narnia and Middle-earth, with perhaps a hint of Alice, but Carman does not lift enough from any single source that it ever feels like a rip-off. There's nothing terribly original here either, but it is definitely enough of its own thing to sustain interest, even for a fussy elder stateswoman like myself. Carman says in his afterword that this story began as a serial for his daughters, and the book maintains a bedtime story quality. This should be great for kids 10 and up to read alone, and younger can enjoy it as a read aloud. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 14, 2018
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Feb 15, 2018
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Mar 15, 2017
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Hardcover
| ||||||||||||||
| 0451527844
| 9780451527844
| 0451527844
| 4.27
| 4,999
| -401
| Mar 01, 2001
|
it was amazing
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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Feb 09, 2017
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Mar 08, 2017
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Mar 14, 2017
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Mass Market Paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 1368002250
| 9781368002257
| B01LYNHTS4
| 3.89
| 17,695
| Jan 31, 2017
| Jan 31, 2017
|
liked it
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PROS: Great prose, especially for a media tie-in. And what an atmosphere! CONS: But what was that plot? RTC |
Notes are private!
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1
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Apr 10, 2018
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Apr 12, 2018
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Feb 24, 2017
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ebook
| ||||||||||||||
| 0007420277
| 9780007420278
| 0007420277
| 3.96
| 251,684
| 1910
| Jan 01, 2011
|
really liked it
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Part I: The Book After the melancholy of North and South —where even the grand romance is tempered by children starving and teenagers dying from cot Part I: The Book After the melancholy of North and South —where even the grand romance is tempered by children starving and teenagers dying from cotton-clogged lungs—some escapism was desperately needed. And The Phantom of the Opera provided the most sweeping, colorful, splendid escapism one could ask for. Yet there is a deeper undercurrent here. It was the hatred of the world that drove Erik mad. The plot of this story is likely familiar to all: a mysterious being known only as the Opera Ghost takes up residence below the Paris Opera House. Meanwhile, an orphaned chorus girl named Christine Daaë has to fill in for the prima donna Carlotta one night, and brings down the house with the beautiful voice that no one knew she had. Christine’s childhood friend Raoul is in the audience and falls in love with her, despite the disapproval of his elder brother—viscounts can’t marry untitled chorus girls! The idea!—but Raoul soon discovers he has a bigger obstacle. There’s another man. His name is Erik, he is a magician, and Christine is both terrified of and protective of him. He’s already kidnapped her once, and he intends to do it again. There appear to be a few sizable divergences between the plot of the novel and that of the musical, but I’ll wait till I watch the 2004 film to evaluate those and decide which I enjoyed more. One big difference already evident is the appearance and characterization of the Phantom. In the book, he’s not sympathetic, just pathetic. He vacillates between threatening to blow up everyone and groveling tearfully at Christine’s feet. Not only is he bipolar, he also has roughly six hairs on his head, looks like death, lives in the middle of an underground lake, strangles people, is irrationally convinced that one person/object holds the key to his happiness, his eyes glow in the dark, and he frequently refers to himself in the third person. Does this remind you of anyone? [image] Somehow Andrew Lloyd-Webber turned this hideous nut-job into a heartthrob. I can’t wait to see how he managed that. The other characters are fairly standard for the Gothic genre. Christine is all innocence and gentleness, while Raoul is rash and brave and spoiled and wholesome. The Persian is intriguing, and I wish Leroux had given us more backstory about how he knew Erik. The supporting cast are quite funny, always yelling and blaming each other for things they know they couldn’t have done—anything so long as they can pretend the Opera Ghost doesn’t exist. Leroux’ prose seems lacking, but that might be more the translator’s fault than his. This is very much a horror novel in the vein of Frankenstein rather than a character-driven novel like Middlemarch . That said, just because Frankenstein and Phantom are a bit melodramatic and short on psychological details doesn't make either any less poignant or profound. Part II: The Musical & The Movie/Comparisons with the Book Just finished watching Joel Schumacher’s film version of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical (2003), which supposedly sticks to the script of the play quite faithfully. Lots of fans seem to think that the movie is a poor representation of the play, and I’m sure that nothing can compare to the kinetic energy of a live stage performance. However, I heartily enjoyed the movie (edit: since originally writing this review I've watched the film three times and loved it more with every viewing). A lot of theater geeks complain that neither Gerard Butler (Erik) nor Emmy Rossum (Christine) has an operatic or Broadway voice. While this is true - he sounds like a grunge rocker and she sounds like a singer-songwriter - I believe that they capture their characters better than the (equally talented) duo of Ramin Karimloo and Sierra Boggess in the 2005 live performance at the Royal Albert Hall. Butler is charismatic, menacing, and broken underneath in this role; Rossum is gentle and sincere and a bit otherwordly; their chemistry is electric and their connection seems deep. Also, Patrick Wilson is Raoul, and he's so good he makes the character likeable. The characterization of the Phantom has changed significantly from page to stage/screen. He has been transformed from an unholy hybrid of Gollum and Frankenstein’s monster to a weirdly-attractive chimera of Heathcliff and Batman. [image] I’m not sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, giving him a normal body and a face that is not just 75% normal, but 75% very handsome indeed, could actually make him more frightening, because you have to steel yourself against him—whereas one has no trouble rejecting a being that looks like a zombie. They say the Devil can disguise himself as an angel of light, and that’s just what he did here. (Leroux hints sometimes in the book that there might be something diabolical about Erik, similar to insinuations Emily Brontë makes about Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights). But on the other hand (to quote Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof, probably the greatest character to ever grace a Broadway stage), many viewers won’t—and haven’t—perceived it that way. Instead they make excuses for him: “It’s his horrible childhood!” “He only kills because no one loved him!” “Christine could have changed him!” And they have a point. We are, after all, talking about a man whose earliest memory is of his mother handing him a mask so she wouldn’t have to look at his face. Leroux says nothing more than that; the freak show is a Lloyd-Webber invention, and a good one (it also offers a far more satisfactory reason for Erik’s alliance with Madam Giry than that given by the novel). That Erik—again, like Heathcliff—was abused and damaged, is doubtless. But the same could be said of Quasimodo (another book I have to read sometime) and he turned out the opposite. It’s an explanation but not an excuse. As for Christine, she did change him, in both the book and the play/movie, by showing him compassion when he needed it most. In the book, the horror of his proposal goes unmixed, while the musical has her heart torn in two different directions, between a good man who would die for her and a bad, broken, sympathetic man who would kill for her. In another timeline, where different choices were made, I hope that Erik and Christine were able to make a life together. As is, she made the only reasonable choice his actions allowed her to make. [image] WHERE IS THE PERSIAN?!? Well, Lord Andrew? Why did you write out one of the book’s most interesting characters? The book has some disturbing violence in the Phantom’s torture chamber (yes, he has one), where Raoul and the Persian might die of heat exhaustion if they don’t despair of finding the hidden door and hang themselves first. Also, the Phantom’s got enough explosives down there to blow the Opera House to kingdom come, which he threatens to do many, many times. He also strangles quite a few people with his Punjab lasso. A lot of his illusions are terrifying, though none so horrid as his own poor face. Teens and up. The movie contains one scene of highly disturbing violence. Erik finds out that a stage hand was spreading rumors about his disfigurement, stalks the guy in the rafters of the stage, throttles him, and hangs the corpse so it falls on the stage. He also drops a giant chandelier on a packed house. The stage musical supposedly has almost no sexual content. The movie doesn’t have anything terribly racy either, but apparently the screen Phantom pets Christine more than his stage equivalent does, and her outfits show a wee bit more skin than the stage costumes tend to. Should be fine for teens, but judge for yourselves if it’s okay for younger kids. ...more |
Notes are private!
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Feb 06, 2017
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Feb 07, 2017
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Feb 06, 2017
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 0872205401
| 9780872205406
| 0872205401
| 4.04
| 872
| Sep 15, 2000
| Sep 15, 2000
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it was amazing
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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Nov 2016
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Dec 2016
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Jan 15, 2017
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Paperback
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| 0679729526
| 9780679729525
| 0679729526
| 3.87
| 133,275
| -19
| Jun 16, 1990
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it was amazing
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None
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Notes are private!
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1
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Oct 2016
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Nov 2016
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Jan 12, 2017
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Paperback
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my rating |
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| 3.36
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really liked it
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Apr 23, 2019
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Nov 17, 2018
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| 4.08
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really liked it
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Aug 13, 2018
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Jul 20, 2018
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| 4.18
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liked it
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Jun 19, 2018
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May 23, 2018
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| 4.15
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really liked it
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May 16, 2018
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May 10, 2018
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| 4.36
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liked it
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Apr 2018
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Apr 02, 2018
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| 4.12
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liked it
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Mar 18, 2018
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Mar 11, 2018
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| 3.98
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liked it
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May 08, 2018
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Jan 22, 2018
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| 3.98
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really liked it
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Jan 17, 2019
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Jan 03, 2018
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| 3.89
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really liked it
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Nov 14, 2018
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Dec 04, 2017
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| 4.02
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really liked it
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Dec 11, 2017
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Nov 19, 2017
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| 4.29
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liked it
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Apr 09, 2018
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Nov 13, 2017
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| 3.59
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really liked it
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Nov 05, 2017
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Nov 05, 2017
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| 4.11
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it was amazing
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Nov 26, 2017
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Jul 10, 2017
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| 3.81
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it was amazing
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Apr 15, 2017
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Apr 13, 2017
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| 3.74
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it was amazing
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Feb 15, 2018
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Mar 15, 2017
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| 4.27
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it was amazing
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Mar 08, 2017
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Mar 14, 2017
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| 3.89
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liked it
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Apr 12, 2018
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Feb 24, 2017
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| 3.96
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really liked it
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Feb 07, 2017
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Feb 06, 2017
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| 4.04
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it was amazing
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Dec 2016
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Jan 15, 2017
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| 3.87
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it was amazing
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Nov 2016
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Jan 12, 2017
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