Living in a divided mystical world proved for an interesting premise, but that’s where it blurred into foggy world-building, heavy with dream2.5 stars
Living in a divided mystical world proved for an interesting premise, but that’s where it blurred into foggy world-building, heavy with dreamy flashbacks interrupting the story. The two main characters were bland, lacking distinct personalities, and I could barely keep them straight. The first-person present tense made for a monotonous narrative.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
A woman whose trail name is Sparrow has flitted off course and is missing somewhere on the Appalachian Trail in Maine, about 200 miles from her destinA woman whose trail name is Sparrow has flitted off course and is missing somewhere on the Appalachian Trail in Maine, about 200 miles from her destination. A game warden, whose job it is to find missing people, wants to find her. A slightly reclusive online birdwatcher slowly realizes a key piece of information. A fellow hiker who goes by Santo, rambles on and on during an interview because he knew Sparrow.
I haven't named everyone, and honestly, at least two of the characters could just be named Red Herring for all the point they serve in the book.
What do you want out of a book about a hiker lost in the woods? More.
Gaige is probably just not an author for me — many will like this book, but I will remain outside that circle. Steadfastly. Heartwood is exactly what I do not like about the pervasive use of present tense in a plot-driven novel. Reader, I was bored.
Stylistically or structurally, this just isn't a novel I would be likely to enjoy. The present tense for the game warden is one thing — I don't accept that it makes sense, but I comprehend the desire to lean into its gimmicky nature for want of a cinematic unfurling. (Please, let's stop pretending that the written word is the same medium as cinema. It's not and it deserves more respect as its own delivery system for storytelling.)
Also included in the delivery of this story are a couple of examples of epistolary narratives, one is from Sparrow's own hand by way of her journal entries which take the form of her addressing her mother for comfort, particularly during the first days in which she finds herself lost. The other is in the interview transcription for the Santo character. In both of these, but especially with Sparrow's journal entries (her real name is Valerie Gillis), Gaige pretty quickly ignores the conceit of pretending that this would be what someone would actually write down — or in the case of the interview, how someone would actually speak. There is TOO MUCH narrative, too much dialogue, and I find it so incredibly hard to believe anyone would write their experiences in a journal in present tense and with full passages of dialogue. Full stop. No.
But, even in the novel's wrap-up, the choices made for the resolution underscored why I found this novel so boring. To say more would be to spoil the ending, so I'll leave it there — but the ways in which it reached its climax and finale only bothered me further. I'm still shaking my head.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
Robin Wall Kimmerer examines the concept of a gift economy through the lens of Indigenous practices and a deeply rooted connection to the nat2.5 stars
Robin Wall Kimmerer examines the concept of a gift economy through the lens of Indigenous practices and a deeply rooted connection to the natural world. Using the serviceberry tree's relationship with its ecosystem as a parallel, Kimmerer explores the ethic of reciprocity.
While I appreciate many socialist policies and their emphasis on a country caring for its people, a significant gap in her argument, for me, was the lack of acknowledgment of innovation and progress in key areas like science and medicine. As Kimmerer pushes against modern economics, she seems to drift further into an idealistic vision that borders on utopia, often dismissing and oversimplifying the challenges always at play with these nigh on unachievable aspirations....more
Laurel, questioning her relationship with Ollie, uses the AltR project to explore an alternate reality with her coworker Drew. However, she becomes trLaurel, questioning her relationship with Ollie, uses the AltR project to explore an alternate reality with her coworker Drew. However, she becomes trapped between the two worlds, forcing her to confront the complexities of her choices.
While I liked Gagnon’s previous book, Love You, Mean It, I found What If It's You? to be rather boring, on top of a few other issues. One of the earlier problems I bumped into was the "science info dump" at the beginning. It took on the air of the author stepping in, with glasses nudged up the nose, to interrupt this previously scheduled narrative...to try and simplify quantum physics. Plus, this featured my least favorite of those buzzword narrative crutches — Schrödinger’s cat. If I go my entire life without having this cliché scenario mentioned in my novels, it would be only a bonus.
I also struggled with the characters — they felt a little too pat, and while they and the story weren't entirely predictable, nothing about them felt thoughtful or intentional. Rather, this felt more like something to just get through.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
Private Rites plays with climate fiction and family drama in a reimagining of Shakespeare's King Lear, but ultimately an effort that wasn't s2.5 stars
Private Rites plays with climate fiction and family drama in a reimagining of Shakespeare's King Lear, but ultimately an effort that wasn't successful for me on either front.
Following the news of their father's death, the three daughters, Isla, Irene, and Agnes, who have not spoken in some time, have to come together to sort through the business of death. When he was alive, their father was known by the public as a genius architect — but privately, he was a cruel provider, leaving the three sisters floundering in life.
There's no question that the mighty pen is handled masterfully in Armfield's tightly held grip. She's a controlled writer — you'd have to be to have a meshing of cohesion and chaos. I read and really enjoyed Our Wives Under the Sea by Armfield and was excited to start her second novel. Her writing is as gorgeous as ever, skillfully delivering metaphors and characterization in a role she was born to play.
But in Private Rites, Armfield might have made a mistake in hauling in Shakespeare's set-up from a play that is heavy on the plot maneuverings, and one with which many will be fairly familiar...if not intimately.
Private Rites opens and we immediately understand this near-future exists in flood waters...ever threatening to continue to rise. People are adapting, but is it fast enough and at what cost? Is there anyway to reduce the threat? Water often represents change, power, and loss of control, themes that are heavily featured in Willy's King Lear. But we hardly spend any time worth mentioning in the backdrop of a flooded and unnamed city. Mayhap this tale had too much plot for Armfield's character-centric writing because the imbalance was felt from the start.
The story, anchored or dropped into the general bay area of King Lear, badly wanted to dominate, but Armfield constantly shifts and turns back to character over plot, creating a constant tug-of-war. I desperately wanted more interaction between the sisters, especially since the big change-up from Lear is that the Head of State is already dead here. So the interactions with their father must come in the form of flashbacks, which sound more like complaining after the fact in the sisters' hands. And as much time and care as Armfield extends to fleshing out her characters, the plot, like the threatening flood waters, finds them in the end....more
Our Town. An apparently sweet snapshot of small town Americana — labeled as possibly *the* American play. My experience with this play is that I don'tOur Town. An apparently sweet snapshot of small town Americana — labeled as possibly *the* American play. My experience with this play is that I don't remember ever not knowing about it, peppered as it was throughout my childhood in various sitcoms. Featuring heavily in the plots of Growing Pains (S3 E11 ∙ "Broadway Bound"), The Wonder Years (S3 E5 ∙ "On the Spot"), My So-Called Life (S1 E17 ∙ "Betrayal"), and even Cheers (S8 E9 ∙ "Two Girls for Every Boyd"), I was exposed to this one so much that I knew the whole of it, even if I didn't know the details. With that, I never really felt compelled to read it. Then Ann Patchett's Tom Lake centered around this evergreen play, and I thought, despite DNFing the book, I'd give the play a try.
But Our Town missed the mark for me. In its simplicity, particularly in the stage settings — the minimalist props/set, the pantomime acting from the cast, and the well-known Stage Manager role, who dominates the stage — I could see the draw. The pull of stripping away the fluff and filler to see the stark, gentle reality of this time period and these ordinary people was certainly compelling to me... before I read it. However, Wilder’s desire to turn utterly and completely away from nuance or complexity never allowed me to connect emotionally with anyone. Don’t get me started on the dialogue — too much small-town affectation and far too stilted. The constant strain of the running epilogue (“What happens to so-and-so?”) threaded throughout the play and delivered by the Stage Manager created a distance and overpowered what little hold the actual play action could manage....more
You know the trilogy is a weird one when my favorite of the bunch is the middle book.
The first, A History of What Comes Next had a promising premSigh.
You know the trilogy is a weird one when my favorite of the bunch is the middle book.
The first, A History of What Comes Next had a promising premise but suffered from pacing issues and stylistic choices (heh-hmm, present tense). The sequel, Until the Last of Me, however, improved upon these flaws, delivering a more confident and expansive narrative. The third, For the First Time, Again felt more like an afterthought or long-winded epilogue than a final installment.
Staying with his alternate history of the space race shaped by the Kibsu — an alien lineage of mother-daughter duos quietly guiding humanity to the stars in order to save themselves — gave Neuvel a strong thread for stitching together the first and second books. But in the third book, with the space race having ended and the attention in exploring and developing technology for off-planet excursions having tempered to the point of non-interest, Neuvel seemed to come at his story without an anchor, and I struggled to work my way through and find his intention or witness the overarching concept come to a satisfying conclusion.
The newest Kibsu, Aster, is the dominate narrator and hearing from a 12-year-old is always risky...but it was especially trying for me with Neuvel's play-by-play approach and use of his first person present tense style and em-dashed dialogue.
—What? —What are you wearing? —It's— —Excuse me for one moment. What's going on? He looks worried. Oh, I hear it now. There's screaming down the hall, lots of screaming. And running, I see heads flying by through the door window. AH! Loud bang. It's—This can't be happening again. —Was that a gunshot? —Don't worry, Aster. I'm sure it's nothing. I'll be right back. Stay right here, okay? —Yes, sir. . . . Stay right here. Yeah, right. Like hell I am.
So, in that regard, we returned to some of my major issues from the first book, but this time without the benefit of weighty historical events. I don't know...I love Neuvel's concepts, but I'm not sold on his ability to wrap them up properly. If there is another installment, which the ending is open to "supporting," I don't know if I'll venture into that one unless the reviews reveal a mind-blowing story....more
The Bookshop of Yesterdays is about a young woman, Miranda (27), who, after the death of her estranged uncle, Billy, inherits his bookstore and is proThe Bookshop of Yesterdays is about a young woman, Miranda (27), who, after the death of her estranged uncle, Billy, inherits his bookstore and is propelled forward on a scavenger hunt to reveal the familial truths previously hidden away.
This one was a tough read all the way through. I don't know what really compelled me to finish—I am a truly reluctant abandoner—but from the beginning I found myself reacting less than favorably toward both the story and the main character, Miranda.
What happened here, I think, is that Meyerson set up this basic structure of reimagining The Tempest and inserting it into a modern setting and having it all have happened prior to the book's events. Boxing the story into and around that idea resulted in a forced and contrived narrative. The disconnectioned pieces of each section were especially rough around the edges, and each piece of the puzzle Miranda discovered, dissected, and solved found nothing but a hard fit into the wrong space.
Miranda herself was a very strange and unlikable main character. She was incredibly selfish and self-centered in every possible way—she's the kind of selfish who goes around doing all the selfish acts, expects sympathy—often getting it, and then accuses everyone else around her of being selfish and unforgiving. She also comes off—the entire way—as very immature. She's hardly ever her age of twenty-seven, instead feeling every bit of fourteen. (Random F-bombs along with stilted and occasional sex-talk doesn't manage to do the heavy-lifting for which it seems intended.) Her lack of empathy and her near complete inability to understand that all the other people around her might be having feelings and reactions of their own continually brought the book down. Despite discoveries she makes and previously unknown stories she hears, she stubbornly refuses to allow anyone else's emotions to be valid. And yet, she's not even written to actually be selfish. You can put all the allowances of Miranda being emotionally damaged by the break in her relationship with Billy, but that's not in the words on the page and would be putting more into the book than is actually there.
It seemed as though Miranda's only role to play was a vehicle that would move Billy's untold story forward and allow each piece of the larger reveal to occur. She has very little character development—she is just as egotistical and self-absorbed at the end as she is in the beginning . . . only with a change of scenery and circumstance. If she were actually as young as she feels, which could explain her obtuseness, and she displayed some true growth and understanding by the book's end, then this would be a coming of age story. Instead, Miranda appears trapped within this box, underdeveloped and immature, aimed at replicating something of Prospero in Billy and injecting the author's clear love of independent bookstores, books themselves, and the love of reading.
Also among the oddities, the choice of style and structure for the way in which the secondary and tertiary characters would switch into some omnisciently delivered flashbacks. The whole of the book was from Miranda's point of view, save for these stories, and so when she would hear a recounting of an event from the past, Meyerson would pepper in some third-person limited narration. The way it brushed up against Miranda's POV was incredibly awkward—especially to listen to it from the audiobook. It was as though Miranda had taken the dialogue that should've been there, as the other character told her what had happened, and pasted it into her own story with no preamble and no clear POV switching. What's past is prologue, my foot.
One of the only things that ever put me on Miranda's side was her deep desire to figure out the clues Billy has left for her on this, and her resistance to the notion everyone else was trying to feed her of this desire making no sense for present day Miranda. She was constantly up against some kind of guff about not having been in the bookstore in years, never having mentioned it, or not having talked to Billy in ages. And while I see some level of validity in their arguments—my side on that comes more from the fact that I don't believe for one second that her character would've so completely forgotten Billy for so many years, or allowed him to drift away so completely as he did. That's just ludicrous. But Miranda's desire to complete this last word puzzle from her uncle, that's a way to cope with grief which I'd understand—an allowance Miranda wasn't prone to granting for others.
However, this small aspect was not enough to warrant my empathy toward Miranda. She was just too petty, too unaware, and lacked emotional depth. Her person, on the whole, never seemed real. She was inconsistent in her logic—which continued to play into the fact that she felt practically prepubescent.
Audiobook, as narrated by Ann Marie Gideon: When you listen to an audiobook, and the story isn't working, it's often hard to know how much of that opinion is influenced by the audio performance, and how much to allow in the reverse opinion for the performance itself. So, I don't know where the line is here. The only thing I could add is that Gideon was probably not to blame, though I wasn't overly fond of her voice for the male characters. I'd have to sample her other work before I'd pick up another audiobook voiced by her....more
A sorta, kinda, maybe retelling of the Snow White and Rose Red fairytale, as collected and made famous by those fabulous Grimm brothers.
Bear2.5 stars
A sorta, kinda, maybe retelling of the Snow White and Rose Red fairytale, as collected and made famous by those fabulous Grimm brothers.
Bear is set on San Juan Island in the Pacific Northwest in a little rundown house on a valuable piece of land. Sam and her sister, Elena, are both nudging 30 and caring for their dying mother. Medical bills are piling up, but the sisters have long planned to leave town. Following what she assumes is Elena’s lead, Sam is purposefully avoiding any relationships or attachments, ready to bolt with her sister after their mom’s death frees them to sell the house, clear their debts, and break free. Then, a bear enters the picture.
Terrified of the bear, Sam is baffled by Elena’s behavior towards it. Elena’s fascinated, allowing herself to be drawn to the bear, eventually approaching it like an old friend or a new family pet. As the situation escalates, Sam, the younger of the two, grows increasingly desperate and turns to more drastic measures in an attempt to reason with her sister.
This started out fairly strong, but as with many literary fairytale retellings, the threads holding this together started to fray and the filling showed through. Fairytales are, by design, very short, and even in capable hands, their structure rarely supports a longer retelling. This also had a faint whiff of romanticizing poverty, which I tend to dislike. Mainly, though, I was just bored — and rooting for characters to get killed off. Never a good sign.
I did find it interesting that Phillips chose to tell this story from Sam’s perspective — the “non-believer” in the friendliness of the bear, so to speak. But it’s not like she’s the more grounded of the two sisters, which leads me to think the dynamic between Sam and Elena represents the duality of a single person. It mirrors early adulthood when reality is confrontational. At times, Sam is childhood and Elena is adulthood — until they switch roles. Both grapple with shrugging off the vestiges of fantasy and carefree dependency....more
My experience with Ishiguro has been that his books are beautifully imagined — with particular care taken to get the c2.5 stars
Yikes. Not my Ishiguro.
My experience with Ishiguro has been that his books are beautifully imagined — with particular care taken to get the characters just right — and they could be described as "Ishiguro tries his hand at _____." Now, that might be spec-fic, sci-fi, classic, or fantasy, all of which I've loved or really liked, but "Ishiguro tries his hand at detective novels" was not a winner for me.
Basically, a grown man named Christopher Banks, who has become a renowned private investigator, heads back to Shanghai hoping to find out what happened to his mother and father, who disappeared some twenty years earlier, leaving him orphaned. Interspersed are Christopher's memories and the path to this present time in his life.
Ishiguro's spare writing style didn't match well with the tone or subject matter. Far more plot-driven than what I've found so far with his work, but Ishiguro seems to try and hide the plot behind the building of the main character's childhood and adulthood events that lead to this desperate search. This one was a bud that just never blossomed....more
The Endicott siblings, once inseparable, reunite after years of estrangement when Jude, a famous actress, calls them to come to North Dakota.2.5 stars
The Endicott siblings, once inseparable, reunite after years of estrangement when Jude, a famous actress, calls them to come to North Dakota. Each sibling faces some personal challenges and there are secrets held that could alter their lives forever.
I thought this would be a lighthearted road-trip book, but the road-trip sections are small, organized by state, and try too hard to provide relevant details to the characters in the present day, but very quickly began to feel like filler. The present day timeline(s) felt like a collision course for a set of characters coming together, only to be underdeveloped and flattened out. And, once again in my reading, the present tense here drove me a little nuts. It's hard to feel connected to characters written in present tense because the golf commentary bend lends itself to an automatic step back from the narrative...more space between the reader and the story, which I think is the opposite intention in this book about a family returning to each other.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
I was excited to read a mature, second-chance romance, but sadly A Forty Year Kiss did not deliver. While there was nothing inherently wrong 2.5 stars
I was excited to read a mature, second-chance romance, but sadly A Forty Year Kiss did not deliver. While there was nothing inherently wrong with it, there was also not much going for it. This was a novel that essentially went no where; it did nothing. The little moments of conflict that would crop up were handled within that very moment, as if they were each their own little bubble of a 1980s sitcom where it's wrapped up within 26 minutes. From each main characters' introduction on the page, you could tell where this entire novel was going — and there were no surprises. Despite trying to layer in some secrets and unresolved resentment, Butler couldn't write himself out of this tame, middling mess.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
Having been a fan of Mary E. Pearson's young adult series, like The Remnant Chronicles (which I still think about), Dance of Thieves, and Jenna Fox ChHaving been a fan of Mary E. Pearson's young adult series, like The Remnant Chronicles (which I still think about), Dance of Thieves, and Jenna Fox Chronicles, I was really intrigued and excited to see Pearson's entry into full-fledged adult fantasy.
Bristol Keats and her sisters are struggling after the loss of both their parents. When Bristol receives letters from an unknown "aunt," she discovers that her family history is a complete fabrication — and that her father may still be alive, kidnapped by creatures from another realm. Determined to find him, Bristol enters a world of magic with gods, fae, and monsters. There, she makes a deal with the fae king, Tyghan, unaware that he’s the one behind her family's troubles and just as intent on finding her father —whether dead or alive.
Because of my familiarity with both YA and adult fantasy and with Pearson's work — I was doubly disappointed here. I'm not sure what the impetus for making the shift to adult fantasy could have been, but I am not sold on it having been Pearson’s intention. The Courting of Bristol Keats retains all the earmarks of a young adult fantasy (particularly those from a decade ago), but with some sex scenes and adult language sparingly peppered about. Bristol herself is only 21 (nay, begging pardon — she turns 22 during the narrative), and yet she still felt every bit as "grown up" as the sixteen-year-old protagonists of typical YA fare. Additionally, there's a lack of freshness, with echos of series that have come before, like Holly Black's The Cruel Prince.
This is one of those books where the story itself is interesting, but the execution doesn't quite able to hold up the weight of the full narrative.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
The Blue Hour boasts a premise that, while not impossible to overcome, is difficult to imagine sustaining an entire novel. A bone in an art display isThe Blue Hour boasts a premise that, while not impossible to overcome, is difficult to imagine sustaining an entire novel. A bone in an art display is discovered to likely be human, rather than deer. In the real world, the next logical steps would follow quickly: first confirming whether the rib bone is human, then testing it, and attempting to identify whose rib it once was. That's it. The fact that it took nearly the entire book to get just to that point was one of many reasons I really should have DNF'd this one.
The main character, James Becker, is so blank and boring that he becomes entirely unknowable. He's awash with nervous anxiety around his pregnant wife, has an oddly snippy attitude about his work at an art gallery, and is entirely awestruck by the artist whose work is now under scrutiny. He's part jaded man and part young naïf, but instead of the two halves making him feel whole, it leaves him even more hollow — too empty to be the kind of narrator whose perspective can carry a book.
Vanessa Chapman, the deceased artist whose sculpture may contain a human bone and whose husband vanished 20 years ago, had the most potential, but her sections lacked the inspiration or insight into her creative process. They felt flat, serving more as waypoints than meaningful contributions. In the present-day timeline, Beck must deal with Grace Haswell, Vanessa's friend and executor, whose predictable trajectory drained her of any real intrigue.
Even the title, The Blue Hour — referring to the time of day when natural light is ideal for photography — seems utterly disconnected from the plot or its outcome. Vanessa was a painter and sculptor more than photographer. I'm a bit baffled by its choice and it’s unclear what it’s meant to signify.
The concept of this novel is intriguing, and the opening salvo had promise, but unfortunately, that's where it ended for me. Instead, the story was predictable and trite, with pacing that lagged from the outset. Not even the strong wafts of du Maurier's Rebecca could save this one for me....more
The Blue sisters — Avery, Bonnie, Nicky, and Lucky — grew up in a household where the distance their mother created, largely due to their father’s alcThe Blue sisters — Avery, Bonnie, Nicky, and Lucky — grew up in a household where the distance their mother created, largely due to their father’s alcoholism, forged a strong but complex bond between the four sisters. As adults, they spread out into their own unique approaches to life. Avery, the oldest sister, is an accomplished lawyer but continues to grapple with her own addiction problems while maintaining a seemingly perfect life with her wife in their large home in London. Bonnie is working as a bouncer in Los Angeles after a devastating defeat in an important boxing match. The youngest, Lucky, whose own addiction issues have reached a boiling point, is struggling to maintain the successful modeling career she’s had since she was fifteen. Nicky, who had become a school teacher, died the previous year from an apparent overdose. Now, the three remaining sisters reluctantly convene in NYC following an email from their mother stating that she plans to sell the apartment where they grew up, where Nicky had lived, and where she was found.
Mellors sets up a novel that proves to be an emotional journey as we follow the three sisters — and a bit of their mother — through their shared grief over losing one of their own. Each sister is a distinct facet within the whole, fully realized and knowable. In addition to themes of grief and pain, Mellors covers a wide mix of addiction, identity, self-awareness, and the web of interpersonal relationships.
Blue Sisters is one of those books that I felt was trying, or wanting, to draw more from the emotional well but never quite got there. I really liked it but didn’t love it. I thought it was emotional but had some room to spare — and the ending felt a touch too easy. Perhaps this is just because the room wasn’t there to delve deeper, with time devoted to each sister in turn. However, I did appreciate the journey Mellors ultimately took each character on. And I still intend to read the previous book, Cleopatra and Frankenstein.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
A speculative fiction novel with dashes of science fiction, dystopian, and magical realism — all wrapped up in a road trip book of sorts. Whe2.5 stars
A speculative fiction novel with dashes of science fiction, dystopian, and magical realism — all wrapped up in a road trip book of sorts. When Sky Full of Elephants begins, we are one year out from a large-scale mass suicide — with no warning one day all the white people in the United States turned and walked themselves into the nearest body of water and drowned.
Charlie Brunton gets a call from the biracial daughter he's never met, who has grown up with her white mother and step-family in Wisconsin. Sidney, calling on the favor of his biological relationship, all but demands he drive to her in Wisconsin and then take her to Alabama, where she believes there is a colony of the few remaining white people.
In typical roadtrip fashion, they stop a few places, meet new people, and head to Alabama. But in Campbell's construct there are some key differences as a result of the sudden and swift absence of white people. The power grid is spotty across the country, and when they arrive at Chicago O'Hare they learn of the new rules that are in place: no money is needed or exchanged, there are no schedules for planes, taking a ticket allows you to stay for seven days in the airport itself, but if you leave you can't return for thirty days. On top of that, Alabama has been sealed off and gained a king to rule over it. There is a no-fly zone over the entire state, so it's up to Charlie and Sidney to persuade a pilot (named Sailor, no doubt) to fly them as close as possible. From there they drive into the Kingdom of Alabama and discover an entirely different way of living than one they ever dreamed of before.
I love the concept of this novel — loved it from the summary, and I even love the part I laid out above in the preceding paragraph. But beyond the vaguest sense of the story there, I struggled the entire time with plot hole after plot hole, oversimplified characters and situations, and a utopia installed, when I emphatically believe utopias are not truly possible. While the story does a good job exploring identity through Sidney and Charlie, there was not nearly enough time or space spent with these two so they could build a relationship. For the majority of the second half, they were hardly even in the same room together.
In the end, I felt that Campbell broke the unspoken pact between reader and storyteller on too many points — the ground was absolutely littered with countless Chekhov's guns — and he missed the opportunity for a deeper exploration of the themes on which he touched. However, I read the review in Medium, and I happily agree with Zachary Houle in that I look forward to the books to come that this will no doubt inspire.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
Navola is a purported “literary” fantasy set in a city-state dominated by powerful merchant families. The story follows Davico di Regulai, a young memNavola is a purported “literary” fantasy set in a city-state dominated by powerful merchant families. The story follows Davico di Regulai, a young member of one such powerful family, as he navigates the political struggles of Navola, and as he prepares to take over his family's [accounting] empire. Davico faces rebellion and intrigue, with his fate apparently intertwined with both a dragon relic and his adopted sister, Celia.
The opening is weighed down by all the world-specific terms and names, based heavily on an Italian-Latin root system. It’s a lot to take in at once and hard to keep track of them all. It doesn’t NOT feel like when someone in a comedy is speaking nonsense pseudo-Spanish by amending each and every English word with -o. It’s unfortunate that it’s so liberally applied, because it gives an easy springboard into the desire to skim-read.
The narrative style is also somewhat unusual, though I feel like we’re seeing this more and more often, as of late, as the author directly addresses the reader with “you.” This choice might work in certain contexts, but here it adds to the overall confusion without providing much clarity or immersion.
Despite being set in a fantasy world with an Italian city-state foundation, Navola doesn't deliver a compelling plot or strong character development. Davico is the typical empty vessel that many main characters of this kind of fantasy novel with a historical bent seem to favor. But I think Bacigalupi takes it too far and Davico really needed some proper fleshing out and purpose. Without an anchor of some kind of conflict — at least for the first half of this nearly 600 pager, the story seems aimless, neither driven by events nor by deep character arcs, as if uncertain of its own direction and intention.
That dragon's eye, prominently featured on the cover and in the book's opening, turns out to be a minor element in the narrative. It is briefly mentioned as a relic or a fossil, and some bits of lore are bandied about here and there, but it’s basically a glorified paperweight for the majority of the book. Such a missed opportunity to develop a more intriguing fantasy element, instead clearly setting up the rest of the books more than allowing this book to stand on its own. Overall, a challenging, cumbersome read that doesn’t quite achieve its potential.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
Soledad Barnes is facing a devastating betrayal that shatters the life she built with her husband. As she struggles to provide for her daught2.5 stars
Soledad Barnes is facing a devastating betrayal that shatters the life she built with her husband. As she struggles to provide for her daughters, Soledad begins a journey of self-discovery and resilience. Alongside her rebuilding, a new romance challenges her to trust again.
When I requested this I didn’t realize it was a sequel, and I’m not sure how that impacted my experience. Yasmen, the protagonist in the first book, Before I Let Go, is here, but with the new center focusing on Soledad, I don’t know that it made any true difference that I hadn't read the first book.
When This Could Be Us opens, we see Tremaine and Judah working through some final stages of their divorce — and the supportive way they decided to break up was really refreshing. Plus, there was a fantastic autism representation throughout that I loved — that’s hard to find these days, especially when it’s not just some "quirky, on the spectrum" protagonist bumbling through their social awkwardness. The spectrum is broad, and I loved this level having a place on the page.
Ryan writes more of a capital-R Romance than I realized, and that's generally not my cup of tea. The predictability of the plot was obvious from the outset, so with that it’s up to the characters and the narrative voice to do most of the work. However, I never quite warmed to the voice of the book, and with that being paired with present tense — the pacing was awkward, leaving an impression of stutter-steps and bulleted dialogue. The tone and style actually reminded me of a Primetime network drama that might attract a devoted audience, but unfortunately, I’m not among them. While the book was undeniably steamy, the writing style lacked the stronger framework that I prefer, and with a very slim plot and light character development, it just didn’t land for me.
I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This affected neither my opinion of the book nor the content of my review....more
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