I don’t think I have the words to do this book justice.
I could mention the fantastic story, the memorable characters, the detailed and fascinating unI don’t think I have the words to do this book justice.
I could mention the fantastic story, the memorable characters, the detailed and fascinating universe and magic system... but none of that seems to adequately capture how utterly breathless I felt reading The Sword of Kaigen.
These characters mattered to me. The outcome of this story mattered to me. The world is so vivid that, rather than needing to suspend disbelief, I need someone to convince me it isn't real.
I recently enjoyed Wang's Blood Over Bright Haven, but even that isn't at the same level as this book. Blood Over Bright Haven is easier to digest and quicker to get moving. This is propulsive, too, but it’s dense in the beginning when the world and magic is still being explained to us. I promise it’s worth it. The rich world-building adds so much to this universe, making it layered and believable.
Once we get past the setting of the scene and info dumps in the first few chapters, I could hardly put this down. I was grabbing for it whenever I had even a few minutes, desperate to discover the characters' fates. I will spare you a lengthy description of the world and magic system because that's what the beginning of the book is for, but, in short, The Sword of Kaigen is a martial arts/magic fantasy with politics, action and truly fascinating and complex characters.
I'm going to reiterate that point-- the characters are so well-drawn and multifaceted. They experience actual growth and change over the course of the novel. Also, it is clear pretty quick that Wang is one of those evil authors who isn’t afraid to put her characters through hell and no one is guaranteed to survive. I like this; it makes for tense and unpredictable reading. MAJOR SPOILER: (view spoiler)[I was devastated about Mamoru :( (hide spoiler)]
I was so disappointed to read that Wang won’t be writing any more Theonite books any time soon. I understand her reasoning and appreciate an author knowing when it isn’t working instead of just throwing out anything to appease fans… but, god, I am dying for more! More than 600 pages here and it's still not enough. This world is so rich and there are so many characters' stories still unfinished… I could easily see there being a few more 600 page books in this world. I guess I'll join the begging hordes...PLEASE??
Note: contains depictions of graphic death and one instance of sexual assault....more
It’s hard to know what to say about this book because it’s about so many things, but I knew hardly anytOne of the best books I've read in a long time.
It’s hard to know what to say about this book because it’s about so many things, but I knew hardly anything about it going in. I can rehash the blurb-- that it's a mystery/thriller spanning several decades --but that tells you nothing about why this book is so powerful. It doesn’t tell you all the little things that make it: the strength of the characters, the humour to offer light through the dark themes, the many surprises waiting to be uncovered.
All the Colors of the Dark is a story of trauma and obsession. The blurb mentions a love story, but the truth is this book contains several love stories, not all of them romantic. It is one of those books where I read it desperate to find out the truth, searching for closure with a need to know, and absolutely afraid of what I’d find.
The characters are truly well-drawn and memorable. Not just the protagonists, but all the side characters too.
And it just has so much to say. We follow these complex characters through their lives as they chase answers to a mystery that seems to get colder by the day, but alongside this are powerful stories of love, friendship and loyalty. I cared so very much.
Plus, I recently complained about thrillers that rest on ludicrous twists and this book was a perfect example of how to get it right. It contains the kind of twists and turns I love. Not some ridiculous “oh that character is actually this character and that man you thought was long-dead is actually your new mother-in-law” but thoughtful, layered discoveries. Finding out what happened in this book is a gradual peeling away of layers.
Also, I feel like authors who write lovely short chapters like this are angels.
The book contains lots of dark themes that won't be suitable for everyone, including domestic and sexual abuse, and references to abortion, but there's plenty of colour in the dark (I'm so sorry, I just can't help myself.)
So did I love this book? Entirely and absolutely....more
Watching Charlotte, Lucy was sad. She had loved Geoffrey with all her heart. Too much. “You shouldn’t love as much as that,” thought Lucy. “It’s a
Watching Charlotte, Lucy was sad. She had loved Geoffrey with all her heart. Too much. “You shouldn’t love as much as that,” thought Lucy. “It’s a bit abject. You should keep something of your self.”
Dorothy Whipple is probably the most underrated classic author I've ever read and she deserves to be as well known as Austen or the Brontes.
It's always hard to write reviews of books I really loved, especially when they are novels driven by character dynamics instead of clever concept or fast-paced plot. How do I begin to articulate how brilliant it is?
This is, in short, a story about three sisters who grow up, get married, and have three very different lives. Each one walks a different path and this book is a careful and heartbreaking exploration of the choices women make in love and marriage.
Most of the story is from the perspective of the eldest sister, Lucy. Through her we view Charlotte's life with the tyrannical Geoffrey and the destruction of their family at his hands. So much of what happens here is horrific. Geoffrey slowly consumes Charlotte, eating away at her health until she becomes reliant on drugs and alcohol.
“it seemed that in lovely, reckless Vera there was someone who was lost, seeking, who wanted something that wasn’t there, something undefined, but lacking, and Lucy had to suppress a strong desire to ask what it was so that she could comfort her.”
The youngest sister, Vera, made quite a different match. Beautiful and vivacious, she marries a very wealthy man whom she does not love. Nannies raise her children while she swans from party to party, entertaining young lovers.
I would not describe this as a message-driven narrative, yet a message came through loud and clear to me nevertheless.
She had all youth’s intolerance for the failure of adults. They ought to have been able to manage, thinks youth. Why shouldn’t they? Youth thinks that to be grown-up is to be master of one’s fate.
Charlotte makes a match with a man she is obsessed with to the detriment of her own person; Geoffrey completely eclipses her personality and desires with his. Vera, instead, chooses a man whom she neither loves nor respects and, while her newfound wealth provides lots of comforts, she discovers very little satisfaction in her life. And like many women who are stunningly beautiful in youth, she bitterly tries to hold onto beauty and the desire of men as she ages.
Only Lucy marries a man who is her friend and her equal (as much as the time permitted). William and Lucy have a mutual respect for one another; their relationship is loving but with a total lack of melodrama. Despite not having the wild intense love Charlotte had for Geoffrey, or Vera's life of beauty and riches, it is clearly Lucy who has triumphed.
The message then is clear. Your partner should be neither your lord and master, nor someone you view with disdain, but just that-- a partner. Happiness is found when two people value each other equally, and a woman will not be happy if she views her husband as above her, or, indeed, beneath her....more
“Mama, you said monsters didn’t exist.” She lowered her head, feeling a great weight descend. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I lied.”
I hated this boo
“Mama, you said monsters didn’t exist.” She lowered her head, feeling a great weight descend. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I lied.”
I hated this book. Every horrifying, infuriating, anxiety-inducing page of it that had me staying up late reading, then unable to sleep. The suspense! The impossibility of looking away! The desperate need I now have for Sierra to write another book! It's just not fair.
Nightwatching drops you right in the middle of the horror with the very first line: "There was someone in the house."
A mother, alone and helpless in the house with an intruder, must do everything she can to keep her kids safe. As they hide in the house, she starts to feel she knows this man, recognises his voice, but at the same time come doubts for her memory, her sanity. The story alternates between the terrifying present and flashbacks that fill in the story of this woman and her family.
I picked this book up thinking I was getting some trashy fun fast-paced thriller-- which, don't get me wrong, I'm fine with --but what emerged was something I'm tempted to liken to The Push: a story equal parts intense, unputdownable, and a thoughtful, sad, frustrating psychological portrait of a woman and her fragile mental state.
I cannot overstate how much this book made me feel. It was genuinely horrifying. Parts were sad. I was so angry and frustrated for her that I wanted to scream. Nightwatching is one of those books that is so suspenseful that I felt very real panic and anxiety reading it. And now I have to return to the real world! And read something else! Tell me... how?...more
Life isn't geometry; terrible, life-changing moments don't happen predictably, at the bottom of a linear slope.
4 1/2 stars because Happiness Falls isn't perfect. I wanted more from certain threads of the story and the author left them dangling. HOWEVER, I cannot deny that I was completely mesmerised by this story. It took me four days to read only because I kept going off to google things and do outside reading on all the fascinating ideas this book explores.
Like with Miracle Creek, Kim frames her story around a mystery --this time a beloved father has gone missing and his twenty-year-old daughter narrates the search to find him--but to label this book a mystery/thriller is to do it a serious injustice. It is a thoughtful meditation on language, the difference between being verbal (i.e. having words) and having oral fluency, and logical fallacy.
It’s depressing, infuriating, and fascinating all at once—the herculean efforts people will exert to not believe what they’re seeing, to reject anything that doesn’t fit into the narrative they’ve been given about how the world works.
The author expands on something she touched upon in Miracle Creek-- how people equate oral fluency with intelligence and how this impacts those who have disabilities which prevent them from talking orally, as well as those for whom English is not their first language. The narrator's mother shares a story of being a highly intelligent, eloquent woman in Korea who is considered stupid when she first comes to America.
It's honestly hard to review a book that does as much as this one does. Yes, it's a missing person story, but it's also a deeply philosophical work that made me think about so much. In addition to everything the author has to say about the way we treat disability, the assumptions and biases we make on a daily basis, and language, Happiness Falls also contains some extremely interesting commentary on the nature of happiness and if it is possible to quantify it.
We are asked to consider such questions as: is it better to expect the worst and be rewarded if we are right and not disappointed if we are wrong? Could a "7" on the happiness scale for one person be a "4" for someone else? Is happiness always the most important goal? Are some things more important than happiness?
Utterly fascinating.
All the philosophical questions relate back in some way to the missing father at the centre of the story. Kim's writing is so strong and her characters so well-drawn that I very quickly became invested in his fate and that of his family.
Also, the use of past tense to foreshadow what the narrator knows is coming is very effective. Something about "given what happened later that day" gave me goosebumps and made it impossible not to read on.
I'm going to need another Angie Kim book, please....more
Beware of the man who wants to protect you; he will protect you from everything but himself. - Erica Jong
Oh my god, this was terrifying.
As with the o
Beware of the man who wants to protect you; he will protect you from everything but himself. - Erica Jong
Oh my god, this was terrifying.
As with the other Megan Abbott novels I've read, I'm not sure how to categorise Beware the Woman. Like the others, it is... sort of a contemporary about women and the shit we go through. But it's also dark enough that it sits comfortably in the mystery/thriller section too.
Though, going with my gut, it felt something like a horror to me.
It starts off eerie and unsettling. A pregnant woman called Jacy and her new husband Jed head off into the wilderness of Michigan to the place Jed grew up. There, a creepy housekeeper seems to lurk in every shadow, a mountain lion roams the forest nearby and everything Jacy's father-in-law says and does seems to have a hidden meaning that she can't quite grasp.
Even the mundane seems sinister in Abbott's hands. It's hard to know whether you're reading a contemporary about a young couple or whether you've stumbled into Rosemary's Baby territory... but it is damn effective.
What starts off as a nagging unsettling feeling gradually builds into a suffocating anger and fear. There is a point in this book where I was a living horror cliche-- edge of my seat, heart in my throat, holding my breath without even realising it --needing to know what happens.
There's no need for a plot summary beyond what the blurb tells you, but I'll just say that this book perfectly captures the suffocating feeling of being ignored, dismissed and controlled for your "protection" and "your own good". It's about men taking ownership of women's bodies and excluding them from the conversation about their own rights and needs. There is not a word strong enough for how frustrating it is to have a man talk over you and insist they know what you need better than you do.
This book was maddening and frightening, especially as too many parts of it didn't feel like fiction at all....more
It feels good for a moment to remember who they were before they again have to sit with who they are.
I thought this was horrible, but excellent. G
It feels good for a moment to remember who they were before they again have to sit with who they are.
I thought this was horrible, but excellent. Gritty, nuanced and extremely powerful.
What Lehane has done here is pull an old story, a common mystery/thriller trope, one so overdone precisely because it is guaranteed to wage war with our emotions-- that of a mother searching for her missing child --and placed it in the middle of a setting I've never seen it in before.
A missing child is truly a wound that never heals-- worse than an outright loss, it is being in limbo and never having closure, the last threads of hope keeping you from grieving and moving on. When Mary Pat's teenage daughter doesn't come home, she will stop at nothing to find out what happened to her. And woe betide anyone who might have hurt her baby.
Mary Pat is vicious and a very complex, often unlikable, character. Raised in the Southie projects, she's grown up fighting back against the world. She has an interesting journey in Small Mercies and is forced to reckon with some of her long-held beliefs, but this is not a redemption narrative. Her fury rages as she bulldozes through the world of this book and a lot of people get hurt by her, directly and indirectly.
Is she right? Is she good? The answer by most people's standards is "no", but it is also near impossible to look away from her pain and anger. I was certainly invested.
Lehane sets the tale of Mary Pat and her missing daughter against the Boston busing crisis-- when attempts to desegregate Boston public schools were met with racial tensions and riots. As Mary Pat digs around, it becomes clear that the story is bigger than one missing person, and is, in fact, about a huge web of race, poverty, drugs and exploitation, with her daughter Jules caught up in the centre of it.
The author also acknowledges the hypocrisy of rich white people tutting at the racism of poor white people while they themselves remain untouched, sending their kids to very segregated, very white, private schools.
I really liked it, though "liked" seems inappropriate. The fact that the good guys and the bad guys were sometimes the same people just made this an even more memorable and affecting read.
Please be aware that the book contains graphic violence, racial and homophobic slurs, and drug use....more
I know for a lot of people she never left, but after really loving a couple of her earlier books, I have bIn my opinion, Taylor Jenkins Reid is back!!
I know for a lot of people she never left, but after really loving a couple of her earlier books, I have been disappointed by Daisy Jones & The Six and Malibu Rising. The format in the former didn't work for me (I very much like to be immersed in a story) and I don't know what was going on in the latter but it didn't hold my attention.
This was Evelyn Hugo-level riveting for me. I couldn't put it down.
Reid pulled me right inside the mind of Carrie Soto and right into each heart-pounding game of tennis. I am not a sports person, don't watch sports, but I was for the duration of this novel. The gruelling training, the ferocious competition, Carrie's need to be the best and her fear that she might not be. The story of a young girl who sees other children building sandcastles and thinks:
I wondered why anyone would want to build anything out of sand, when tomorrow it will be gone, and you'd have nothing to show for your day.
Carrie is not a likable sports personality, which, of course, made me like her even more. She doesn't play to fans, her mouth often runs away from her, and she's a sore loser. She can't help it. Raised by single father Javier, she has lived and breathed tennis her whole life. It is who she is and the thought that she might not be the best... well, it's unthinkable. When a younger player matches her all-time slam record, thirty-seven year old Carrie plans a comeback. At her age, it's not easy. Can it even be done?
The bulk of the commentators... They wanted a woman whose eyes would tear up with gratitude, as if she owed them her victory, as if she owed them everything she had.
As well as being a fabulously gripping story of ambition verging on obsession, it is also about being a woman in sports-- the sexism, the double standards, the focus on her likability (or in Carrie's case, lack of), the trivializing of her achievements by male tennis players. It's also a lovely story of the relationship between a woman and a father who is also her coach, cheerleader and number one fan.
At its heart, the book's message is a simple old one. One that could have been cheesy in the wrong hands, but Reid pummels our heart enough along the way that the message comes as a relief. It's this: everything is temporary and all good things come to an end. You can try to cling to it as long as possible, sucking every bit of life and enjoyment out of it, or you can love and appreciate every second while it is happening and, in the end, let it go....more
"There's no such thing as 'good men' and 'bad men.' They are the same men," she said. "They just treat different women differently based on how the
"There's no such thing as 'good men' and 'bad men.' They are the same men," she said. "They just treat different women differently based on how they view you."
I told my friend while reading this book that I was thankful I hadn't discovered Holly Bourne as a teenager because I'm pretty sure I would have developed a complex about men and relationships. Well, more so than I already did, being a teenage girl and all.
There are a lot of ugly truths crawling around inside When We Were Friends. Too often it reminded me of my own adolescence and college years-- the female friendships fraught with jealousies, the desperation to be thought attractive, the insecurities and anxiety, the performances we put on so we could have romantic relationships that were dissatisfying anyway.
Bourne has explored teen friendships and romantic relationships before, but where this one differs is that it is actually an adult novel about reevaluating adolescence when you are grown and more removed from the events that unfolded.
It begins when an old friend of Fern's from school, Jessica, turns up out of the blue and attempts to reconnect. Fern hasn't spoken to Jessica ever since a betrayal tore apart their friendship, but they're older now, more mature and with more life experience, so surely things will be different this time. However, the more Jessica slots herself into Fern's life once again, the more Fern finds herself having doubts that people ever really change.
I found Bourne's Pretending especially depressing because it ultimately suggests that what happens to us in those formative teen years defines who we are and shapes the life we go on to have afterwards. This book touches on that again-- even though Fern is now in her thirties, she cannot fully let go of the anxieties and insecurities she had at sixteen.
There are so many aspects to this book that I related to.
For one, finding men on Facebook wearing 'feminist' t-shirts: the very same men who slut-shamed, belittled, cheated on, ghosted and sexually assaulted girls when they were in high school or college. Don't get me wrong, I am a fan of people changing, growing and maturing, but the hypocrisy still stings a bit.
For another, the weird conflict often felt as a teenager between wanting to be a strong, modern feminist and "being jealous of your friend who got assaulted on the dance floor because why didn't he pick you to assault?" What a mess. I applaud any woman who made it through this time without getting completely screwed up.
However long the wait is for Bourne's next book, it will be too long....more
“Everything is broken and messed up and completely fine. That is what life is. It's only the ratios that change. usually on their own.”
It's not of
“Everything is broken and messed up and completely fine. That is what life is. It's only the ratios that change. usually on their own.”
It's not often that books this charming and irreverently funny are also as sad, moving and hard-hitting. Eleanor Oliphant is one that did it for me. Queenie is another. Sorrow and Bliss is the latest addition to the short list of "books that make me feel like laughing and crying in equal measure". I admit this list needs a catchier title.
Sorrow and Bliss is, essentially, about mental illness, the debilitating and relationship-destroying effect it can have on a person's life, and the importance of a correct diagnosis and treatment plan. It felt like a healing balm after I had such a negative reaction to the widely-loved Bewilderment. From now on, I may just refer commenters to this book instead of trying to explain my problem with the neurotypical Theo's anti-label, anti-diagnosis stance for his clearly neurodivergent son. This quote sums it up:
"But the thing about labels is, they're useful when they're right because," I carried on through her attempt at interruption, "because then you don't give yourself the wrong ones, like difficult or insane, or psychotic or a bad wife."
I really do know how it feels to feel like you're just failing at being human and how wonderful and liberating it is to find answers.
But also, this book is a love story. A sweet, tender, rips-your-heart-out-of-your-chest love story. The book opens with Martha's husband Patrick leaving her two days after her fortieth birthday. The story then takes us back to the beginning, to their first meeting when Martha was fourteen and through all the ups and downs that came after. It got to a point where I was desperately reading towards what I knew was coming, heartbroken, hoping things would-- could --resolve in a way that didn't leave me destroyed.
I felt deeply invested in these characters in a way I haven't felt for a while. A combination of heart-tugging sadness, humour and short, punchy chapters made it impossible to put down....more
"How can anything be true then? How do you know what's real?"
Holy shit. I was not prepared for this.
I'm not even sure where to begin with my revie
"How can anything be true then? How do you know what's real?"
Holy shit. I was not prepared for this.
I'm not even sure where to begin with my review. I guess I'll start with that I couldn't put this book down. At times, I wasn't even sure what I was reading; I only knew that I had to find out where this story was going and how it would resolve. Idol takes on a LOT of fascinating themes without ever becoming weighed down by them.
She knew there was nothing more powerful than a woman finally given permission to scream.
We start by meeting our protagonist, Samantha Miller-- a social media lifestyle guru who has built a business empire and sold books on the back of recreating herself after her sexual assault and struggles with addiction. Samantha recently penned an essay about a formative sexual experience with her best friend and the essay went viral. But now her manager has received an email from Lisa, the aforementioned best friend, saying she remembers it quite differently.
As the persona Samantha has created for herself starts to crumble, she decides to revisit her old friend and the past.
On the one hand, the book is an exploration of the nature of memory and truth. How well do we really remember the past? Most people today have heard the phrase "my truth". The question is: is this something to be sneered at? Surely there isn't "my truth" and "your truth" but only "THE truth", right? But what if there isn't? What if the "truth" is dependent upon your point of view? What if someone else has a very different view of an experience you had? It's a chilling thought.
Was this what it meant to be an adult, everyone reframing their childhood experiences to paint themselves as the victim?
And we also see in Idol the truth of the adage that if you tell a lie enough times, you start to believe it yourself.
On the other hand, the book delves deep into the life of social media stars and "cancelling". We often place unrealistic expectations on "influencers", expect them to be perfect, and far too many people delight in tearing them down when it turns out they weren't as perfect as they were pretending to be. Nothing makes us smell blood like hypocrisy, after all.
Sam is a mess, there's no other way to say it. Flawed, manipulative, caught up in herself and the version of her she presents to the world, but O'Neill has created a messy character that I couldn't tear myself away from. I wonder if I was reading as wide-eyed as I felt.
While reading this I kept thinking about a quote I've seen now and then-- "Life is the story we tell ourselves" --a phrase which has always struck me as lovely and poetic. After finishing this book, it seems downright sinister.
CW: sexual assault, addiction and substance abuse, disordered eating....more
This book made me feel sixteen again, with all the pain of a teenage broken heart to go with it. And Dwyer has really perfected what I Wow. This hurt.
This book made me feel sixteen again, with all the pain of a teenage broken heart to go with it. And Dwyer has really perfected what I can only call "sad sexy".
I shut myself away with this book whenever I could this weekend, in a little bubble of hurt and anxiety. It's been a long time since a book made me feel like this. It made me recall early Gayle Forman books like Where She Went, and Melina Marchetta. I don't mean it's stylistically similar, just that it made me feel raw in the same way.
It's hardest to write reviews about books that got to me the way this one did. Themes of social class, family (both the ones life hands you and the ones you make), self-determination, addiction, mental health and self-destructive coping strategies all encircle the relationship at the centre of this story. Every single character in this book matters, feels alive and important, and I will miss them all.
Ellis has been going around to the warm, messy love of the Albrey's house since she was eleven years old. Over the years, it's become a haven to escape from her own parents, who struggle with addiction, amongst other things. Sandry and Ben became a kind of mother and father to her. Tucker and Dixon became the silly, teasing lovable brothers she never had. And then there's Easton.
The story begins in the now and alternates between the past and present, leading up to the circumstances that left Ellis feeling shattered. And me. I felt shattered too.
Thankfully we have the wonderful Albrey family, especially Tucker, to add some light and humour to this heart-shredding book. It needs it. The relationship between Ellis and Easton is definitely not the only source of heartache in this book. It's also about caring for someone who lets you down again and again.
My dad is not a bad man. Not always, at least. He’s just the kind of broken that stabs and cuts anything that tries to hold it.
But, most of all, this book really captures the pain and passion of first love in a visceral way. I pined, I cried, I felt green with envy on Ellis's behalf. I wanted so so badly for things to be okay in the end.
Read it if you enjoy books that destroy you....more
4 1/2 stars. Did I think Deposing Nathan was a good book? Well, if by that you mean “did it completely destroy me?” then yeah, it’s a good book.
It on4 1/2 stars. Did I think Deposing Nathan was a good book? Well, if by that you mean “did it completely destroy me?” then yeah, it’s a good book.
It only appeared on my radar after my GR friend Amy said "I hated this book. And it was phenomenal" which, you know, how could I turn away from a statement like that? And it sums the book up completely. I devoured it in two sittings, completely immersed in the lives of these characters in a way I haven't felt from YA Contemporary in a while.
Sometimes the best kinds of stories are those that take a familiar concept - in this case, a religious teenager figuring out he might not be straight - and breathe new life into it. While Nate wrestling with his sexuality is at the core of this book, it's also about several complex, nuanced characters, about religion (as someone who doesn't usually care for this in books, I thought it was done surprisingly well), and about abuse.
What made this an especially emotive read for me is the way it explored some of the grey areas of abuse that precede the more overt kind. The gradual crossing of the fine lines between protective and abusive. Thinking back over it right now, I have bumps rising along my arms. My response to this book was deep and visceral; I can't stop thinking about it.
I also think one of the things that made this book stand out is that the characters were charismatic and their dialogue really funny. Even in scenes where there was little plot progression, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it because of the hilarious conversations between Nate and others.
Many parts of this book had me on the edge of my seat, or else on the edge of tears. And the ending damn near broke me.
I'm going to take this opportunity to recommend a song I recently discovered that seems quite relevant - Either by Fancy Hagood....more
I’ve come here to give this to you. This is my side of the story.
I'd been eyeing this book for a while when, earlier this week, I got a text fro
I’ve come here to give this to you. This is my side of the story.
I'd been eyeing this book for a while when, earlier this week, I got a text from my thriller-loving brother asking if I'd heard of The Push by Ashley Audrain and saying I needed to read it. Needless to say, I cancelled all the social plans I didn't have anyway.
I settled in to read what I imagined would be a psychological thriller. And, for a while, it was just that. Sinister, mysterious, with short punchy chapters that kept me on the edge of my seat. None of this prepared me, though, for what came later. I wasn't expecting it to hurt so much.
I must have cried no less than five times whilst reading this book. It's about mothers and motherhood and paranoia (maybe?) and stress. It's feeling like you're constantly being dismissed and undervalued. It's getting to the point where you feel like you can't trust your own mind. And it contains one of the most shattering portrayals of grief I've ever read.
It is a thriller, but also a multi-generational character study; a very complex portrait of a mother who is in turn a victim and her own worst enemy. Is she so deep in postnatal depression that she can't be the mother her daughter needs? Or is she being wrongfully dismissed as "hysterical" because she is a woman and her instincts go untrusted again and again? It doesn't matter if you "figure it out" because that's not the point; either option is devastating.
This is the kind of book I love to discover: rich, layered, emotional without being overly sentimental. Blythe will stay with me for a long time....more
It isn't fair to be the kind of creature who is able to love but unable to stay.
I don't think it can be said that I read this book. I felt it. I f
It isn't fair to be the kind of creature who is able to love but unable to stay.
I don't think it can be said that I read this book. I felt it. I felt every single word.
It's hard to review a book that affected me like this one did. I want to convey how much I loved it without resorting to incoherent gushing. I guess I could start with the fact that I've barely felt like reviewing at all this year; found even concentrating on books a challenge at times, never mind putting my thoughts down in a review. I finished this book a little after 1am this morning, heart racing with a complex array of emotions, and knew I had to say something about it.
Migrations is set in a near future where most of earth's wildlife has died out due to the changing climate. Franny Stone sets out to follow the last Arctic terns in the world, as they make their migration - perhaps their last - to Antarctica. The book moves from Franny's present, in which she sails on a boat with a number of funny, weird crew members who become a kind of family to her, to all the love, passion and tragedy of her past, which is slowly unveiled over the course of the novel.
Unlike most other environmental dystopias, this one is not urgent or panicked. In fact, it's a quiet novel. A subtle, sad tale of a woman and her grief. And it's a love story. For a person, and for a planet.
I cannot tell you at exactly what point I fell for this book. I know in the beginning it seemed slow, it was slow, but it was also mysterious in a way I found compelling. There was something about Franny-- something relatable, raw, lonely, and confused --that made it necessary to learn where she had come from and where she would end up.
The atmosphere created by McConaghy's writing left me with a chill that still hasn't gone away. She manages to make this story feel cold, the simplest of events and actions like an icy breeze on the back of your neck.
I noted a more negative take on this book from another reviewer called it "predictable", and, in some ways, it is. Though, rather than predictable, I would say it felt inevitable. Like we were climbing towards something, anticipating something, knowing it couldn't be good, that there were really only so many ways it could have happened, and surely it wouldn't be the warm, cozy one we'd like to believe is true. I saw the climax of the novel coming, yet this did nothing to lessen the impact for me.
Then she got in her Volvo and hoped Grace was right and this was all just a product of the overactive imagination of a stupid little housewife with
Then she got in her Volvo and hoped Grace was right and this was all just a product of the overactive imagination of a stupid little housewife with too much free time on her hands. If it was, she promised herself, tomorrow she would vacuum her curtains.
I FREAKIN' LOVED THIS. I loved every single dark, funny, gory minute of this book. I'm in no way qualified to talk about best and worst books, but I can say with absolute certainty that this is my favourite book so far this year.
For the first few chapters of The Southern Book Club, I thought I had it pegged as the easiest, breeziest, sweet tea & pecan pie of a novel. A kind of True Blood, if Sookie Stackhouse was ten years older and ran a book club. Which, don't get me wrong, sounds utterly fabulous, but it actually ended up being way more than I expected. It goes to some really dark places, so a quick warning to those sensitive to sexual assault and domestic abuse (off-page).
I'm not quite sure how best to describe this. In some ways, it's a heartwarming and funny story about a - you guessed it - Southern book club. There's so much female friendship and a good few laughs, but despite how the title and cover look, it isn't campy like I feared. In fact, as well as being fun, this book made me really frustrated and angry in parts. I hate it (and can't stop angry-reading) when women are patronized and gaslighted. Reading about gaslighting really makes me anxious, and the way the women in this book are talked down to because they are "silly" housewives made my blood boil.
But that's the whole point. In the author's note, Hendrix states that he "wanted to pit Dracula against my mom". It's a nod to those women who carry out the majority of the childcare and household chores, as well as shouldering the emotional burden. And, hell, these housewives might vacuum their curtains and freeze 60 sandwiches at the beginning of the month for school lunches, but they have some serious claws.
In every book we read, no one ever thought anything bad was happening until it was too late. This is where we live, it’s where our children live, it’s our home. Don’t you want to do absolutely everything you can to keep it safe?”
Patricia has read enough true crime novels to know a threat when she sees it. So when a mysterious stranger comes to town and threatens their neighborhood and their children, Patrica, Kitty, Maryellen, Slick, Grace and Mrs. Greene are absolutely NOT about to take it lying down. God, I love these women. They're not the stereotypical "badass heroines", which makes them so truly, genuinely badass. The book lightly pokes fun at them, but in a warm, good-natured way.
“How’s your ear?” “She swallowed part of it,” Patricia said. “I’m so sorry,” Slick said. “Those really were nice earrings.”
Normally I would summarize at the end of my review by saying how "fun" or "intense" or "moving" it was, but I don't know which angle to go for because this book was all those things. This book made me laugh and it made me anxious and I just loved it. It's too bad that it ended in a perfect place because I would definitely sign up for a Southern Book Club series.
The world had changed a great deal, but the little rules, contracts, and customs had not, which meant the world hadn’t actually changed at all.
4 1
The world had changed a great deal, but the little rules, contracts, and customs had not, which meant the world hadn’t actually changed at all.
4 1/2 stars. There is some seriously weird and awesome art coming out of South Korea these days. From the weirder stuff (The Vegetarian, IMO) to the fabulous (Parasite - highly recommended) to this latest novella that packs a serious punch. It really makes me wonder how many other gems there are that never made it to translation.
Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 is an unusual book and I can see right now how it won't be for everyone. It's a strange combination of fiction and facts, including footnotes referencing actual data on women in the workplace, housewives, the hoju system, and abortion. What it really is, for me, is a novelization of a true story; the true story of gender inequality in Korea.
It starts very odd, not unlike Han Kang's The Vegetarian, with a man observing his wife, Kim Jiyoung, exhibiting some very unusual behaviour. Sometimes she will talk like she is someone else, or make inappropriate comments while they are visiting family. Where has this come from? She never used to behave like this-- what happened to her?
Then we go back in time and follow Jiyoung through the story of her life. We see her put everything she has into becoming a working woman with her own income. We see her met with challenge after challenge; rejection after rejection. We see her living in fear of predatory boys and handsy teachers. We see fetuses being aborted for being the wrong gender and women's bodies becoming the subject of job interview questions.
Jiyoung grew up being told to be cautious, to dress conservatively, to be “ladylike.” That it’s your job to avoid dangerous places, times of day and people. It’s your fault for not noticing and not avoiding.
I don't know if some people can read this book and not be angry, but I was furious. I felt like I was almost visibly shaking while reading about Kim Jiyoung and the women around her. Do not read this book if you're looking for a light, feel-good read.
There are so many interesting topics packed into this teeny tiny book. Another aspect I enjoyed was the portrayal of Kim Jiyoung's mother. It must have been so hard to be a mother in this in-between. To have grown up in a time when women were given no choices or opportunities and to try to raise daughters in a world where they do have some choices, but prejudices and gendered abuse still hold them back. Do you push them for better? Or do you set realistic expectations?
I think the only thing I didn't love was how weird this book is in the beginning and again at the end. It could just be a cultural style that I don't really "get", but I think this is a fantastic portrait of a woman's life and the situation was more than sympathetic enough without Jiyoung's bizarre breakdown.
Still, you should absolutely read it if you can stomach more stories about how very unfair this world has been, and often still is, for women.
Feb 2025: Just a random reminder that this is still one of the most underrated fantasy novels, IMO.
Call it what it is: monster racing. Forget that,
Feb 2025: Just a random reminder that this is still one of the most underrated fantasy novels, IMO.
Call it what it is: monster racing. Forget that, and you die.
This book was everything I wanted. Ever since I read Durst's The Queen of Blood in 2016, I've been saying that she's a seriously underrated author... but this book? Wow, she just took it to a whole new level.
And the silly thing is-- I'd been putting it off. Monster racing sounds kinda badass, but it also doesn't quite grab me in a "need to read" way. I love character drama and emotional investment. I love relationships and political machinations and backstabbing and betrayals and surprises (and I can't play or follow sports to save my life). But Race the Sands had all of that. Yes, there was monster racing, but that is only a tiny fraction of what this book is about.
Becar is a richly-drawn fantasy world where souls are reborn again and again, and how well you nurtured your soul in your previous life dictates what form it will be born into in your next. If you were good, told few lies, and generally made the world a better place, you could be born as a human or a higher class of animal like a monkey or a tiger. If you didn't, you may be born as a cockroach. But the worst fate of all, reserved for the most irredeemably bad souls, is to be reborn as a kehok.
Kehoks are vicious monsters, incapable of reason or empathy. Their main use in this world is as racers, trained and controlled by riders brave enough to compete. Tamra was one such rider, until an accident left her with a physical disability. Now she trains others to ride the kehoks. When her financial situation gets so bad her daughter may be taken away from her, she knows the only solution is to win the championship and the monetary prize. But first she has to find a kehok and a rider who can do it, and time is definitely not on her side.
While this is happening and Tamra is finding Raia and the mysterious metallic lion who will race with her, trouble is brewing in the Heart of Becar. I don't want to give too much away, but protests have broken out and it seems that many people may be lying and scheming. The new emperor-to-be, Prince Dar, is unintentionally sowing doubt in Becar's citizens.
I loved the politics of it all. The underhanded goings-on and the moral questions being raised. In this society, augurs-- the only ones who can see your soul and the path you are on --are revered and feared by everyone. "Good intentions" are held up as the ideal, the purest way to live, but as the book shows, a lot of terrible things can be done under the banner of "good intentions". Fascinating.
“Do you understand, my star? I would destroy the world for you.”
The characters were fantastic, especially all the amazing women, which seems to be what Durst does best. Tamra is the best mum EVER (except my own, of course) and I felt that Raia was a deeply-sympathetic and tough character. I was also very pleasantly surprised by Lady Evara. She seems like a standard bitchy rich lady character in the beginning, but she becomes a much-needed source of comic relief. I love it when characters are more than I first expected.
And that climax was so SO satisfying. I think I may have said "OH HELL YES" out loud. What a fun, fast-paced, hard-to-put-down book, with MCs who all have slightly damaged souls, which is how I like 'em. It's adult fantasy but totally suitable for YA readers, too. Slight warning for some "animal" cruelty-- i.e. beating racers to make them faster; it is NOT viewed as a good thing.
“Guilt is a burden, so forgive yourself for the mistakes.”
Reading this book felt like coming home.
It's been eight years for me - far longer for o
“Guilt is a burden, so forgive yourself for the mistakes.”
Reading this book felt like coming home.
It's been eight years for me - far longer for others - since I first encountered these characters in Saving Francesca, and I feel as if I have grown up alongside them. Melina Marchetta was one of the first authors I discovered through Goodreads, thanks to Tatiana, and these books have such a special place in my heart.
The Place on Dalhousie - just like the two companion books that came before it - is what happens when someone who is smart and intuitive about human nature and the nuances of relationships also happens to be an amazing writer. Marchetta just knows how to get under your skin, how to elicit emotions without being over-sentimental or trite. She writes deep painful emotions, creates a sharp sense of loneliness, out of the most simple of encounters and interactions. Nothing so basic as "someone dies, this is sad". Marchetta is too good for that.
I don't think this is a depressing book, though. It is very emotional - quite cathartic, honestly - but it is filled with so much warmth, so many shining brilliant characters, that it never brought me lower than I could handle. I get the sense that after sixteen years, Marchetta herself really loves and cares for Jimmy, Tom, Tara, Frankie, Justine and Siobhan, and that comes across in her handling of their stories.
This is Jimmy Hailler's story. He's trying to build his own family out of an accident that may turn out to be exactly what he needed. Marchetta is one of the best writers I know when it comes to family drama. Not only does she capture Jimmy and his state of mind entirely, but she explores new characters in depth. Rosie and Martha were fascinating, and I love how Marchetta understands that no one is simply the bad guy.
The Place on Dalhousie, Saving Francesca and The Piper's Son are about life. The complex connections between people, the conversations between old friends, and finding and allowing yourself to love. I'm not sad, exactly, but I am totally crying.
Maybe there were no villains in my mother’s story at all. Just men and women, trying to do their best by each other. And failing.
This book. THIS B
Maybe there were no villains in my mother’s story at all. Just men and women, trying to do their best by each other. And failing.
This book. THIS BOOK. I cannot remember the last time I became so thoroughly immersed in a story, fell so deeply in love with the characters, and had my heart so fully ripped out. The Heart's Invisible Furies is a masterpiece. Most people will know Boyne from his hard-hitting children's book The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, but this book is something else entirely.
I'm not sure where to start. This book has been doing well with critics so I expected it to be pretty good - I just didn't expect it to be unputdownable. I also thought it might be hard-going, but it was a really easy read, albeit long and sometimes depressing. At one point, the characters have a discussion about authors and what makes a good book and I found this quote especially fitting:
"He tells a story, and that’s what I like. Does this fella tell a story? He doesn’t spend twenty pages describing the colour of the sky?"
Because, as much as I love descriptions and metaphors and whatnot, there is nothing I love more than just a damn good story. Which I think this book is.
It is essentially the life story of Cyril Avery from conception to old age. He is a gay man born into an extremely conservative Ireland and his personal experiences are set to the backdrop of two harrowing histories - the modern history of Ireland, the IRA and terrorist bombings, and the long, difficult history of LGBT rights. It is rife with the sexism and homophobia typical of the era.
The story moves from the postwar period, showing an Ireland that is almost theocratic in its obsession with the church, to the more liberal 1980s in Amsterdam, to New York City in the middle of the AIDs crisis, and back to a more modern Ireland that is moving towards the legalization of gay marriage.
There's a lot of the kind of humour I really like, which tempers a story that is in many ways an incredibly sad one. There is profound loneliness and depression in being gay in 1960s Ireland:
The belief that I would spend the rest of my time on earth lying to people weighed heavily on me and at such times I gave serious consideration to taking my own life.
But the characters shine through the darkness with dialogue that is dry and silly:
‘What’s a pervert?’ I asked. ‘It’s someone who’s a sex maniac,’ he explained. ‘Oh.’ ‘I’m going to be a pervert when I grow up,’ he continued. ‘So am I,’ I said, eager to please. ‘Perhaps we could be perverts together.’ **** ‘I’ve never even heard of President Eisaflower,’ said Bridget with a shrug. ‘Eisenhower,’ I said. ‘Eisaflower,’ she repeated. ‘That’s it,’ I said. **** ‘Is that supposed to be a joke?’ she asked. ‘It was,’ I admitted. ‘As I heard the words coming out of my mouth, they sounded less amusing than I thought they would.’ ‘Some people just shouldn’t try to be funny.’
Neither the history of Ireland nor the history of LGBT rights is a particularly happy one, so the humour was a really great balance to this.
And I was just completely taken with all the characters. As with the opening quote, none of them are merely heroes or villains. They are not neat and they make mistakes, sometimes horrendous ones that will challenge your ability to love them, but I, at least, found it easy to forgive them for being so painfully human. What happens toward the end of the New York chapters will come as no surprise, and yet that doesn't make it hurt any less.
The ending is absolutely perfect for this kind of story. It is happy in many ways, but it does carry a certain sadness with it. A bittersweetness to round off a life tale full of love, misery, heartache and hope. It was wonderful.
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