Amalia Gkavea
‘'We've fought so many battles and we've always won, and we're going to win again. Please remember tomorrow is a good day and we will get through in the end.'' Captain Sir Thomas Moore
30 April 1920. A boy is born in Yorkshire. A boy with a passion for walking and engines.
May 1940. The Nazis have initiated an unthinkable nightmare, a Hell on Earth. The boy joins the Duke of Wellington's Regiment. In India, he fights against all enemies and becomes Captain, always there to encourage his comrades in the fight against tyranny.
Spring 2020. As his 100th birthday is approaching, he decides to walk 100 laps in his garden, having recovered from an accident. And then another battle, no less terrifying, begins. The fight against an invisible enemy. He decides to raise 1,000 pounds for the ones who sacrifice their lives daily to save us. The healthcare workers, the doctors and the nurses, the tireless angels on our shoulders. And he raises 30,000,000 pounds, winning one more battle. But the enemy strikes again, vicious and stealthy.
2 February 2021. Captain Tom Moore departs for the place of angels, leaving behind an invaluable legacy of courage, solidarity and the need to never give up.
‘'The sun will shine on you again and the clouds will go away.'' Captain Sir Thomas Moore
Many thanks to Francis Lincoln Children's Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'If someone could look down on us from above, they'd see that the world is full of people running about in a hurry, sweating and very tired and their lost souls always left behind, unable to keep up with their owners. The result is great confusion as the souls lose their heads and the people cease to have hearts. The souls know they've lost their owners, but most of the people don't realise that they've lost their own souls.''
Αlways, always in a hurry. Wake up, get ready, eat, walk. Drive, catch the train. Shop, socialise whether you like it or not. You have to. Talk. Don't talk. Don't be inactive. Don't spend time alone. You will be branded a ‘'loner'' and a ‘'weirdo''. Listen to the fashionable mottos dictated by social media. Don't. Do. Do. Don't.
And then we forget to listen to the voice of our soul. We pay so much attention to what the others tell us and we forget to think. We concern ourselves with the opinions of others and we don't care what our own self thinks of us and our actions.
Olga Tokarczuk creates a beautiful fable about a young man who realises he has lost the only thing that really matters. His soul. So, he decides to withdraw from a society of empty words and loud demands. He decides to wait. He decides to spend the time to understand himself. Until the day a little girl appears outside his window and his garden starts growing again.
But where can we find our soul? Joanna Consejo's moving illustrations are rather telling. In a snowy field, echoing with the laughter of children, in a cafe with a hot cup of coffee and a book, in a village funfair, in a train, gazing over the fields, dreaming. Far away from those who exploit everyone and everything.
Many thanks to Triangle Square and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'We've always been citizens of the world. No, that's not true. We've always been outsiders. On the run.''
Alex is at a crossroads. Working in his father's factory in China, he comes in close contact with a country of paradoxes, secrets, traditions and constant unrest. In 2015, the steps towards change are small, uncertain and insufficient. Apart from his work duties, Alex has to navigate a tricky path. His father's ruthless work ‘'ethic'', his mother's lectures on Jewish identity and his own wishes and perceptions. But he isn't naive. He observes, understands and decides to be a part of the change. Ivy, a bright Chinese woman, helps him realise his role when uncertainty is the only certain influence in everyone's lives.
Spencer Wise creates a beautiful story, guiding us through the journey of a young man from Boston in the alleys and canals of Guangdong, in Beijing's legendary streets. From the technology of 2015 back to 1989, the days of Tiananmen and its open wounds. Ivy's narration of the Massacre is haunting, hair-raising, one of the most exquisite passages I've ever read. He weaves a tale born of revolution seeds and Golem references, of the struggle between following your personal principles and carrying the heavy burden of your family and your father's orders.
Seen through the eyes of Alex, a brilliant, sensitive, kind and very realistic character, this is a story of change, disillusionment, love and determination. A difficult, demanding subject, written with sensitivity, clarity and tenderness.
‘'It's a bright moon outside, and from the window of my house I can see the skeletal grey of the factory, the banners draped like sashes and the deep artificial red of Mandarin characters demanding change, and I'm wondering how the fuck this Jewish kid from Boston could somehow wind up a YouTube hero in the Chinese Revolution.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'You know who listen to music? People! And you act too good for them!''
A beautiful story of a young woman from Brazil who experiences a terrible loss at a very young age. Blessed with immense talent and unique feeling, she travels to Paris to study Music and become a professional pianist, following her dream. Flavia meets young adults from all over the world. Some share the same passion for Music, others are there because they had to comply with their parents' wishes.
Flavia goes through an intense journey of discovery. She understands that the ones we idolize often turn to ash when their real self kicks in. She becomes stronger and remains true to her principles without forgetting her mother and her homeland. She is feisty and speaks before she thinks but I have committed this crome too many times and she reminded me of my obnoxious self. I loved her!
The artwork is simple but effective, the translation is excellent and there is a feeling of tenderness, innocence and determination throughout. I loved every minute I spent with Forte.
Many thanks to Europa Comics and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Perhaps because I have too much respect for language, I suffer during conversations when nothing is being said, when words turn on themselves, like in an empty tub of a washing machine. Washed out, deformed, with more colour or shine. So I prefer to retreat. But no one seems to understand. Silence and solitude have become luxuries.''
When you have survived the epitome of a toxic friendship, and six high-school years with someone who bought the same clothes and accessories as you, who read the same books even though she hated reading, who applied the same make-up, chose the same schoolbag and tried to be besties with your Mum while you were struggling to run away from someone who wanted to be YOU to the point of obsession and ridicule, this novel acquires a whole new meaning. Luckily, I didn't have to face the same destructive relationship our heroine does but the memories are no less traumatic...
De Clérambault's Syndrome. The delusional belief that someone is in love with you but they are too afraid to admit it or the world prevents them from being with you. The patients create a universe where everyone and everything stands between the object of their ‘'love'' and themselves. They stop at nothing. Τhey are a danger to others and to themselves. Laura finds herself in a nightmarish situation. A former classmate returns and evades her life. And steals it. Manipulating Laura into a web of guilt and goodwill, C manages to form a social circle where everyone likes her. Laura tries to convince everyone of C's madness but it is all in vain. She is on her own. And she needs to fight back and survive.
There is quiet terror hidden in the pages of this novel. This is how I felt while I was reading. I finished - nay, devoured it- in two hours and I was transfixed and terrified by the sheer obsession and madness that Laura had to put up with. To witness a life being thwarted by a vile creature (and I DON'T care whether she was in need of medical help or not, excuse me!), to see how easily the ones you love can turn against you was petrifying. And once more, I understood that you can trust absolutely no one! No one. When the time comes, your only support is your personal strength. Everyone else will fail you.
Florence Noiville doesn't resort to drama and hysteria. We enter Laura's mind and our mirror to C's threat is her emails to Laura. There is a plethora of information on the syndrome and limited dialogue. It doesn't take long for the reader to enter the vortex that Laura's life has become and we anticipate...what? The rage? The revenge? The inevitable? Noiville writes with elegance, sharpness and clarity and even though I would have reacted very differently if I had found myself in Laura's position, I was won by her doubts and moments of weakness. Women can be abusers too and syndrome or no syndrome, this is a story of absolute psychological violation.
‘'Sartre's marvellous phrase comes back to me: ‘We are what we do with that which others wish to do with us.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Help out? What is it with you and ‘'helping out?'' You're going to ‘'help out'' with chores. ‘'Help out'' with raising your baby. ‘'Help out'' with finding me a new job. Isn't this your house, too? Your home? Your child? And if I work, don't spend my pay, too? Why do you keep saying ‘'help out'' like you're volunteering to pitch in on someone else's work?''
You are harassed at school by a cruel boy. Your teacher smiles and tells you it's because he ‘'likes'' you, this is how boys communicate their...affection and you'll eventually get used to it. You are threatened with rape at a bus stop, thankfully saved by a considerate lady. Your father blames your stubbornness in choosing an after-school activity and implies that your skirt is too short. Your idle, lazy, useless brother has the right to take the largest portion during dinner while you and your sister HAVE to be happy with whatever is left. I mean, why aren't YOU happy with that? And it doesn't stop there. Oh, no. Your mother supports you and urges you to follow your dream. And you do. You deserve a promotion but you're overlooked because you lack a penis. You get married and go through the Holy Inquisition organised by your (moron) husband's relatives on how to conceive a child. And it had better be a boy, ok? We need BOYS! The ones who will benefit our bloody society. You give up your work and you're called a parasite living off your husband's hard-earned money. And then, you fall apart...Once more, welcome to Hell.
Meaning, a society reserved only for men.
If you are one of those who glorify certain countries and their way of life, it is urgent that you should read this book. Without the need for elaborate language and flowery descriptions, Cho Nam-Joo creates a novel that is the very definition of a punch in the stomach. It exposes all the ways a society can and does go horribly wrong, oppressing, abusing, violating. All with the blessings of a system that changes too little, too slowly, too inadequately. It mirrors issues that have been going on for so long in every society of our world and the fact that every single one of our weaknesses will be exploited by states and family alike. Do you find the strength to stand up or do you let yourself be smothered by habit and shameless direct and indirect blackmailing and abusing? This outstanding novel leaves little room for hope...
‘'You're right, in a world where doctors can cure cancer and do heart transplants, there isn't a single pill to treat menstrual cramps.' Her sister pointed at her own stomach. ‘'The world wants our uterus to be drug-free. Like sacred grounds in a virgin forest.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
Nine stories celebrating the International Day of the Girls. Nine girls who demonstrate the strength, the determination, the intelligence, the love for ourselves, our family and each other. Nine stories teaching the immense value of gender equality and girls' right.
Fiona from Brazil represents strength, learning to protect herself through the martial art of capoeira. Hana from Afghanistan has the blessing to attend school, having learnt to read through her grandmother's tireless efforts. Abuya from Kenya represents creativity, taking care of the safety of the girls in her school. Liliya from Russia represents inventiveness, having come up with an impressive plan to make her neighbourhood safer and happier.
Sokanon from Attawapiscat First Nation community in Canada represents bravery, exposing the educational issues in her community. Malika from India changes absurd, cruel centuries-old tradition to protect girls' health and well-being. Keeya from Nigeria stands against the ‘'tradition'' of being a child-mother, an issue that brings to light the need for education and the protection of a girl's childhood.
Zarah from Syria represents the joy of being alive even when everything you've ever known as certainty has been taken from you. Aster from the USA shows that Science is not a field exclusively reserved for men.
This is a book that should grace every child's bookcase. It is mandatory reading, a precious step towards the urgent need to raise the citizens of Tomorrow, to have a chance for them to live in a better, more respectful world than the one they are about to inherit...
Many thanks to Kids Can Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'You are all Little Red Riding Hoods.''
A lonely castle no one defends, a castle standing alone. A young girl is being bullied by her classmates as children turn into monsters in the blink of an eye. So, Kokoro (meaning ‘'heart'' in Japanese) retreats, closes all doors, abandons school and its teachers who have lost touch with reality, and finds herself drowning, too terrified to speak up and tell the truth to her mother. One day, the mirror in her room starts shining. A way out of her despair. An entrance to a strange castle where 6 children are waiting, invited by the strange Wolf Queen. This is how a treasure hunt starts. A peculiar search for the Wishing Key, the one way to fulfil your wish. To forget what you have left in the real world.
But which world is real?
It saddens me to say that I don't have positive things to say about this novel.
The premise was extremely enticing and Kokoro's story was a parallel to classic fairy tales and to our times when bullying has become a severe issue to be solved. But the amount of cruelty from children to children was too much. It was terrifying, yes, but it was not convincing. Obviously, I am not familiar with this aspect of Japanese society but it struck me as lacking, exaggerating and caricaturish.
With all due respect to the writer, I felt that the novel was too long, it dragged and dragged and, at times, the writing felt dry and uninspired. I slowly began to lose interest and I was more invested in Kokoro's personal story than in the exploration of the castle and the Wishing Key. The way the Wolf Queen was presented was intriguing and eerie, initially, but her interaction with the children was laughable. Was it a translation issue? Possible but Philip Gabriel is an excellent translator. Whatever it may have been, the result made me bored to tears.
In addition, Mr Ida has to be the biggest arsehole in the whole entire History of our whole entire universe and I don't think that there are many teachers who would behave in such a manner out there. One more caricature.
When elements of Science- Fiction started kicking in, I was totally out. In the end, this was a story that left me cold. It shouldn't have but it did. I just stopped caring. I can see the appeal it may have on many readers but, unfortunately, and unexpectedly, it wasn't for me.
Many thanks to Doubleday and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Skeletons of lovers slumped toward each other in embraces beneath the earth, almost parts of the roots but not quite assimilated, their backs, you could tell, broken. Sad-looking monsters with jugged triangles of teeth, trying to hold the too delicate in their large claws: pretty little boxes ruined, birds dead or dying.''
Ida tells a simple story. The tale of a childhood in the company of her friends, Jackson and James, her brothers in spirit. They are her partners in crime, in games, in joys and sorrows, during a childhood that Ida must face without her mother, supported by her gentle, wise father. And she falls in love with her best friend. She and Jackson must cope with a reality where demons are lurking, waiting to devour them and tear them to pieces.
This novel spoke to my heart in ways I never thought possible, given the fact that I am not exactly sentimental. Yet, I cried. I cried reading about the places of our childhood that have been fenced off and are now out of access. Either for safety reasons or because of monetary motives, the sites that disappear demonstrate what we love to call our ‘'coming of age''. Ever the pessimist, I tend to call it our ‘'loss of innocence.'' There is a deep, moving nostalgia in the story, the memories of long, lazy summer afternoons and golden autumn days, when everything was simple, life waiting to be discovered.
But now you need to help the one you love fight their demons. What can you do when they do not want to leave the world of their sleepwalking, but succumb to it with hungry frenzy?
This is a novel that offers an honest, realistic and respectful look on sexuality and the relationships we form at an early age, only for them to be thwarted once we become ‘'responsible'' adults.
‘'Officially, I'm Ida, though Jackson has called me I as long as I remember. The symbolism is sickening. Even in the worst of it, even in phases where I spoke almost exclusively in monosyllables and guttural sounds and sat around lost in the worn flannel shirt he left behind, I would never bring this up to anyone: and he calls me I. Like I. As in myself.''
My reviews can also be found https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'God was dead: to begin with.And romance was dead. Chivalry was dead.Poetry, the novel, painting, they were all dead, and art was dead. Theatre and cinema were both dead. Literature was dead. The book was dead.''
Winter. I concluded my first reading experience in Ali Smith's universe on a day when the centre of Athens was covered in snow. Sun and snow in the heart of the capital, the first in almost 20 years. During a break in my teaching sessions - because Zoom is still going strong, damn it!- I looked outside my window as the snow was falling. Silence and children's laughter. And I thought, why does winter fascinate us so much? What is it that makes it so special? Does it bring us together or drive us apart? In Ali Smith's moving masterpiece, both happen. As in life itself.
‘'It can do this because it's midwinter, which is a time of year when children and gods are meant to meet, when a child can speak to gods and gods are meant to listen, a time that's about children and gods being related.''
Sophie, Iris, Art, Lux. Four people trying to spend Christmas Day as peacefully as they can, trying to remain unscathed by their reluctant interaction. Small chance, really. Two sisters, as different as day and night, and two strangers that decided to follow one another, each one obeying a special motive. Memories come and go, past anger and regrets come to the surface. Who are they? What are they looking for? Where will this search end? Why don't we listen but remain too much in love with our own voice? Moving back and forth to an eventful past and a frighteningly uncertain present, Ali Smith's characters share their thoughts on age and obligations, dreams and reality, ghosts and the people that pass by in a flash, freedom and revolution and propriety. Love and anger.
In a world where money is all there is because we chose to make it so, in a country where Brexit is a reality, in a time when a madman enters the White House, one may feel like a piece of stone, heavy and still. Do we let others create a sculpture of us, projecting their image on ourselves? Or do we CHOOSE to grab the tools and break the mold? After the Capitol Attack by a bunch of uneducated bigots/racists/all-around barbarians obeying a monster, the final pages in Smith's masterpiece became all the more poignant.
‘'It's winter, still. There's no snow. There's been almost none all winter. It'll be one of the warmest winters on record, again. Still, it's colder in some places than others.This morning there was frost on the ridges of the turned earth across the fields, frost the sun had melted on one side only.Art in nature.''
My reviews can also be found onhttps://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Girls with fire in their bellies will be forced to drink from a well of correction till the flames die out.''
In this outstanding collection by the Nigerian writer Leslie Nneka Arimah, family is examined in all its forms. Family means unconditional love and protection. But there is a very fine, fragile line between protection and asphyxiation, between love and care and the deep wish for absolute dominion over the life of your children. Motherhood acquires centre stage and is seen in a realistic, even raw, light. We meet mothers who nurture and protect, mothers who oppress, mothers who exploit. And most importantly, we meet daughters whose cry of independence and the right to decide their course echoes through the pages of one of the most exceptional books I've ever had the fortune to read.
This collection is as ferocious as life itself.
The Future Looks Good: We meet a young woman as she is about to unlock the door of an apartment. Through her eyes, we see her family. Her parents, her elder sister. We encounter the hell of the war in Nigeria and the various labours of love. But nothing, nothing can prepare us for the end. An astonishing story in less than six pages.
War Stories: A girl narrates the story of the cruelty of children, the weakness of human nature, the nightmare of war, the secrets of a family. Powerful and moving.
Wild: A teenage girl is sent to stay with her aunt in Nigeria. There she has to face the wild nature of her cousin and a mysterious past. A story of motherhood, womanhood, and the repercussions of a cultural shock.
Light: A moving story about fatherhood and the special bond between a daughter and a father who raises his child alone. And a ‘'mother'' who is anything but.
Second Chances: The loss of a mother has been haunting her eldest daughter for eight years. But what happens when she returns all of a sudden? Can the girl forgive and forget? Is such a thing even possible?
‘'There is a science to it, falling.''
Windfalls: A despicable woman has found an abominable way to make money, abusing and exploiting her daughter. The wounds she has caused are unhealable. A shocking, poignant story of disastrous ‘'motherhood''.
‘'Where are you going?I am going home.Who will greet you at home?My mother will greet me.What will your mother do?My mother will bless me and my child.''
Who Will Greet You At Home: Ιs there an equation to heal pain, war wounds and despair? A mathematician tries to help as many victims as she can. But in a world ravaged by floods that led to its destruction, falling is a reality...
Glory: A young woman has managed to escape her overbearing mother until the day her potential mother-in-law makes an appearance. Glory has to make a choice that involves her independence and the right to remain true to herself and not to the expectations of others.
‘'If you can't please the gods, trick them.''
What Is A Volcano?: A beautiful, haunting myth about the tragic feud between the goddess of rivers and the god of ants and the creation of volcanoes.
Redemption: A girl learns about the secrets and cruelty of the adult world and the way it corrupts even the children who try to escape misery and cruel ‘'families''.
‘'How many people had Kioni worked with over the last decade? Five thousand? Ten? Ten thousand traumas in her psyche, squeezing past each other, vying for the attention of their host. What would happen if you couldn't forget, if every emotion from every person whose grief you'd eaten came back up? It could happen, if something went wrong with the formula millions and millions of permutations down the line. A thousand falling men landing on you.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Tales are told of a village so plagued by ghosts that bells are hung over the doors, to keep them from slipping in at night. In certain houses the cooks bake three loaves of bread, two to eat and one to bury. In some towns you would as soon slit your own throat as wear red in winter or yellow on a wedding day. And even kings must bow low when they see a dead man walking, lest the departed take offense and take hold of their hand.''
Hinterland. A land of magic, darkness, violence. A land for Death. A land where justice is slowly but surely on its way. No matter how cruel, how terrible a character may be, retribution and justified punishment will come. In their most terrible form and rightly so. And Death is there, so much more than a character. He is a tangible presence, of flesh and blood. Watchful and unshakable.
Step into the darkness of an extraordinary collection...
‘'And it told her how she could save herself and her sister. How she could remake the world just enough so they would live. It would take blood.''
The Door that Wasn't There: Two sisters trapped in a household without love. What if the only way out leads to an unbearable darkness? What if revenge at an unthinkable cost?
‘' There was a girl who spoke to the moon. That isn't enough to make a tale, but to her the moon spoke back.''
Hansa the Traveller: A tale of the Moon, the stars, the sea and the rim of the world.
‘'The toymaker arrived in town on the back of rumours so vicious they cut the tongue.''
The Clockwork Bride: A child's dream night in a toy shop comes at a great price. When the child becomes a mother, the reckoning will come for her eldest daughter. But the young woman refuses to become a victim. An exciting tale of womanhood and independence, set in a land of magic and secrets.
‘'In spring, the wife swallowed the pink-and-white petals of an apple blossom. So eager was she to do it, she didn't see the creep of brown at the flower's centre. It had half rotted with rain.''
Jenny and the Night Women: A mother gives birth to a beautiful girl but her beauty is no match for the cruelty of her heart and the coldness of her soul. The daughter is unsatisfied, she wants to punish her parents and the Night Women are there to fulfil her wish. A dark, powerful tale.
‘'So quickly she learned to mute the bellows of her lungs, the ticking of her naked heart. When she found him like this he did not like to look at her, because if he did she would repeat the only words she had spoken since he took her from the woods. ‘'Give me back my skin.''
The Skinned Maiden: A prince's obsession leads to destruction and the certain revenge of the maiden he tricked and violated. A violent tale of madness and punishment.
‘'The dark dreams that stalked the court, the unexplained deaths of the stable's best horses, the hysteria that overtook the servants like a plague, coming and going in a fortnight. Spoiled milk, bad weather. The obsession of the king.''
Alice-Three-Times: A queen gives birth to a feral child that grows fast. The daughter's presence plagues the castle, her family, the society that has exiled her since she was an infant. And the mother is no mather at all. A tragic tale of vengeance, despair and justice.
‘'You wish to hear of your husband?'' Her voice made a cold music. The shush of wind in bare branches, the tapping of a dead girl's wedding shoes.''
The House Under the Stairwell: Three sisters offer a drop of blood to see the face of their future husband. But Isabel is not so fortunate for a cruel fate is reserved for her. A union with Death. This wonderfully haunting tale makes use of classic motifs such as the pact with Death, the doomed bride, the dead witnesses, the trials that must be overcome.
‘'Do you think I can be killed? Do you think yourself the match of me?''
Ilsa Waits: A girl's village is plagued by Death. Ilsa loses each member of her family one after another. She decides to face Death and he invites her to a journey in the realm of the dead. Ilsa survives but the price is too high. Possibly my favourite story in this incredible collection.
The Sea Cellar: Young women are wed to a mysterious suitor, victims of their parents' greed. When Alba decides to put an end to it by offering herself, she discovers the enchanting yet terrible truth. A tale that reminded me of Oscar Wilde's stories, a tale of the sea and the wind and the call of the sirens.
‘'I am mother and murderer'', the voice whispered. ‘'I am womb and crypt. I am a road and I am the end of it.''
The Mother and the Dagger: A queen who has been raised in a land of dark magic longs for a child. When she tries to deceive an old witch, she becomes a shadow in the woods. She becomes the Mother...
Twice-Killed Katherine: A young woman, the offspring of a powerful enchanter, escapes Death. But she cannot escape a route of loses. Twice-killed and still alive...
‘'I am the quiet'', he told her. ‘'I am the cold. I am the thing that comes after the end.''
Death and the Woodwife: A queen loses her seven children and gives birth to a daughter with green skin before she follows them to the grave. The princess is chosen by a strange suitor, the son of the greatest enemy. Who can trick Death and his kin?
I have read so many collections of dark fairy tales it would take weeks to remember them all. This one must be the finest.
‘'I am my own,'' she said. ‘'I belong to me.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'You came here to speak of shame and its relation to desire. There should be no shame in openly saying, I want this. There should be no shame in not knowing what one wants.''
Love. What a simple, yet puzzling, complicated, frightening word. What beauty and terror are hidden in four letters. Love brings countless complications. One of the most intense comes when two best friends realise they have actually fallen in love with each other. He is a young man, a photographer. She is a free spirit, interested in writing and dance is her means to express herself. They meet, they collaborate, they become best friends. But it is clear that they fell in love at first sight. What happens when you find a soulmate but risk losing your true friend? As months go by, wandering in the buzzing metropolis of London, we watch two people who try to understand each other and themselves. And their story becomes our own.
‘'Language fails us, and sometimes our parents do, too. We all fail each other, sometimes small, sometimes big, but look, when we love we trust, and when we fail, we fracture that joint.''
What is in store for our couple? Both are Black British, both are artists. Both are navigating an absurd world that most of the times sees you as a ‘'Black'' body. The story is written in second-person narration which is my favourite literary technique when done properly. And here it is presented to absolute perfection. Exclusively seen through the eyes of the young man, we are guided into a story that examines love and relationships within a troubled and troubling society. A society that still succumbs to racism and discrimination and violence comes all too easily. This is far from a ‘'civilised'' time...
Art is an escape, a means to express your feelings and understand yourself. Before you let Anger take over you. Anger because the world is mad, mad to its rotten core. Before you are smothered by the overwhelming feeling that you are not ‘'good enough'', the constant need to apologise. Before you surrender to your fear of expressing your thoughts to the one you love. But if you retreat deeper and deeper into your shell, you'll get lost. And if you bedn too much, you will break. Your homeland, the land of your ancestors, the land of your beloved grandma is always on your mind. You need freedom, you need for fear to disappear, but the line between being cautious and being selfish is too thin.
In London and in Dublin. In our own home, in our own heart. That's where this outstanding novel takes us. Loving someone so much that it becomes frightening. Baring your soul is terrifying. Love is swimming in open water, against the current. Written with quiet beauty, tenderness and pain, this is the story of the love between two people, the story of a community where hatred and violence drive everyone apart. The story that shows that nothing has really changed. The story in which, one way or another, we can spot ourselves.
A remarkable debut. One of the finest books of the year.
‘'It is the wrong season to have a crush. Meeting someone on a summer's evening is like giving a dead flame new life. You are more likely to wander outside with this person for a reprieve from whatever sweatbox you are being housed in. You might find yourself accepting the offer of a cigarette, your eyes narrowing as the nicotine trickles your brain and you exhale into the stiff heat of a London night. You might look towards the end and realise he blue doesn't quite deepen during these months. In winter, you are content to scoop your ashes away and head home.''
Many thanks to Grove Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
No, no, and no.
The writing is borderline unbearable, the dialogue is awful, the main character's voice is unconvincing. Τhe premise of the book is laughably bad. Overdone, and possibly offensive towards half the countries of our world. I mean, Dystopia has been done to death. Let's get over it and move on.
‘'By the time the heatwave came to an end, nothing remained of the people but ash. They became fused into panes of glass: grey and opaque.''
Five people search the streets of Seoul for something to grasp at. An actress, an aspiring poet, a teacher, a director, a novelist from abroad. A group of individuals linked by a personal story of loneliness, unfulfillment and the fear of the unknown. But who are they? Why are they wandering in a city smothered by an absurd heatwave? There is no wind, no bird songs, no colours in the sky. A radio switches on and off by itself, blindness and haziness walk hand-in-hand with surreal dreams, apparitions, faces with scars and blood-stained clothes.
A day and a night in a loop where each character is merged into the other, events are seen as if from the window of a car driving in the night, the city lights coming alive and fading away. It is a dinner in a blackout restaurant, a visit to a gallery, the reading of a poem, the performance of an audio theatre. It is life depicted in black-and-white photographs, phone calls with no caller or recipient. It is a drop of sweat, a pianist in the park, a cry of fear in the face of the absolute void...
The Translator's Note by Deborah Smith is as beautiful and haunting as the novel itself. Her translation elevates the novel to an other realm.
‘'Don't go far away, even for just one day, becauseBecause... a day is long, andI will wait for you.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Amma is walking along the promenade in the waterway that bisects her city, a few early morning barges cruise slowly by, to her left is the nautical-themes footbridge with its deck-like walkway and sailing mast pylons to her right is the bend in the river as it heads east past Waterloo Bridge towards the dome of St Paul's she feels the sun begin to rise, the air still breezy before the city clogs up with heat and fumes.''
Twelve women. Twelve stories, twelve stops in an exciting, moving journey. Twelve hearts, twelve minds, twelve souls. Twelve confessions, twelve testimonies. One masterpiece.
Evaristo has created a difficult route for us. Through London - vividly portrayed- through Theatre, Education and the Arts, through the upper and middle classes, meeting the workers and the bohemians and the privileged, the ‘'old'' and the ‘young'', the hopeful and the fearful. She beautifully communicates the complex themes of race, gender and sexuality, equality and independence, justice and equal opportunities, patriarchy and revolution. It is a rough journey through the decades that shaped our modern world and our convictions and perceptions. The fight for civil rights, the threat of Aids, the Thatcherian politics, the chaos of Brexit and the impossible chasm it has caused.
The stories of the twelve women and their voices reach far beyond the issues of sexual liberation and emancipation. Evaristo offers us a completely honest view of organizations and political parties. She comments on the gang problem and the babymothers of British society, on the hurdles in Education with its centuries-old convictions, the curse of lesson plans, the death of all creativity and freedom (and I speak from 14 years of experience). Her writing is flowing, raw and honest. She doesn't present saints but women who are good, women who are bad and women who are everything in between.
Through the African myths of warrior women, Amma's free spirit, Yazz's wonderful musings that reminded me of my university years, Shirley's resilience, Dominique's enlightenment, Evaristo shows that we are not victims and those who would like to see us as such (and treat us even worse...) better keep THAT in mind. On a literary level, she gave me the golden opportunity to explore the work of writers that were unknown to me. I was in the middle of reading a number of exciting books at the same time, but my mind wanted to exclusively dedicate itself to this modern masterpiece.
In 2020, Bernardine Evaristo became the first woman of colour and the first Black British woman to get a number 1 in the UK paperback fiction charts. In 2019, she became the first black woman and first Black British author to win the Booker prize. BUT. Girl, Woman, Other should have been the sole winner. Why didn't this happen? I think we all know why. Who can forget BBCs abominable ‘'Margaret Atwood and another author''?
‘'I'm not a victim. Don't ever treat me like a victim, my mother didn't raise me to be a victim.''
In other news, Goodreads Search ‘'function'' doesn't seem to be able to ‘'find' the novel by its title. I guess it's easier and more popular in the Amazon sphere of abhorrence for The Girl with the Golden whothefuckcareswhatitisreally and its sequels to show up...
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'He was talking about books as if they were alive - old friends, powerful adversaries at times, insolent teenagers and elderly ladies sitting by the fire. In our bookcases? Grumpy wise men and mistresses, uncontrollable passions, future killers, thin paper boys offering their hands to fragile damsels whose beauty grew thin with every description. Some books were wild horses that took you with them in a mad galloping while you were hanging, breathless. Others were like boats sailing softly on a lake lit by the moonlight. And some were prisons.''
Juliette commutes daily to her mundane work in a real estate agency. Her employer is a vacant man. Her colleague an even more vacant woman. Juliette's way out is to observe the people in the metro and their reading choices. You are what you read, some say. Or are you? One day, she decides to break her daily routine and chooses to get off at a different station. Her meeting with a brilliant young girl and her mysterious father will lead her to a life that only books can offer.
This is a novel for those of us who travel -literally - daily with a book to keep us company amidst the noise of the train tracks and the shuddering ignorance of the commuters who don't even know how the word ‘'book'' is written. It is a tender journey, full of Parisian flair and elegance, for the ones who inhale the smell of old and new books, those of us who know how to listen to the whispers of the pages, those of us who fell in love with Russia, Norway, Britain, France, Spain, Italy, Colombia, Mexico, Japan, Korea, and so many countries before we actually visit them. Words are the finest guides. For those of us who feel at ease when we are alone with a book in our hands because people have become too loud, too ignorant, too annoying. It is a novel for those who READ.
No, Goodreads isn't the place for such a book. Not anymore...
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'There are gaps in the mesh of the everyday world, and sometimes they open up and you fall through them into somewhere else. Somewhere Else runs at a different pace to the here and now, where everyone else carries on. Somewhere Else is where ghosts live, concealed from view and only glimpsed by people in the real world. Somewhere Else exists at a delay, so that you can't quite keep pace. Perhaps I was already teetering on the brink of Somewhere Else anyway; but now I fell through, as simply and discreetly as dust sifting between the floorboards. I was surprised to find that I felt at home there. Winter had begun.''
Suddenly life decides to overthrow everything. Schedules, plans, habits, obligations, pleasures. Life turns against itself, lifts a hand, cries ‘'Hold. I've changed my mind.'' And you have two options. Give in or swim against the current. A sneaky illness. A school that exhausts its students. A career change. When winter comes, it may just be possible that it comes to confront you, help you, nurse your doubts. It may be possible that it comes to point the way and heal you.
‘'We like to imagine that it's possible for life to be one eternal summer and that we have uniquely failed to achieve that for ourselves. We dream of an equatorial habitat, forever close to the sun, an endless, unvarying high season. But life's not like that.''
In her beautiful, moving memoir Katherine May takes us into winters of change, reflection, sadness, hope and love. She explores the significance of winter in novels and fairy tales, its bond with our childhood delights, the quiet joy that accompanies the silent season. As soon as autumn knocks on our door, the need to put a light in every corner of our house seems to become greater than ever. We need to pause and find whatever peace of mind can still be found. The smell of the woodsmoke and the chilly air. And, yes, we turn our collars up to protect ourselves against the wind and our steps become faster because the cold is a tiny bit too much. And I wouldn't trade this for a thousand eternal summers.
‘'But winter is a time when death comes closest - when the cold feels as though it might yet snatch us away, despite our modern comforts. We still perceive the presence of those we've lost in the silence of those long evenings and in the depths of darkness that they bring. This is the season of ghosts. Their pale forms are invisible in bright sunlight. Winter makes them clear again.''
May opens a door into her life and speaks to us as if to an old friend. In Iceland and Norway, in the polar nights and the wealth of the Sami culture. In the ghost stories of Halloween. In the depths of Gaelic Mythology, the figure of Cailleach, the Midwinter experience in Stonehenge and the festival of Imbolc. In John Donne's A Nocturnal Upon St Lucy's Day. In the darkness lit by Saint Lucia's crown of candles through a marvelous scene in the Svenska Kyrkan in Marylebone. In the comfort of spending an evening in church. In the particular pleasure of winter sleeps. In January's Wolf Moon. In the legends about bees and robins. In the February snow. In overcoming the threat of losing your loved ones. In standing by your child's side when he has had enough of an outrageous school system. In the comfort of books, the trustworthy companions made of paper and ink, in children's stories, in the enchanting malice of the White Witch, in Sylvia Plath's cry.
That is where winter is hidden.
I don't need verbose bits of wisdom. I don't care about the ‘'wisdom'' of others, whatever wisdom God has granted me has led me to safe harbours for 36 years. It is memoirs such as this that I cherish. The writing, the beauty, the images, the smells and sounds. I lived inside this book, I treasured every page, every confession. What more could I possibly ask for?
‘'Winter is a quiet house in lamplight, a spin in the garden to see bright stars on a clear night, the roar of the wood burning stove and the accompanying smell of charred wood.''
‘'That's what you learn in winter: there is a past, a present. And a future. There is a time after the aftermath.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'In the evenings, as the sky grows dark, living creatures of all different shapes and sizes prepare themselves for sleep. You might enjoy a bedtime snack, put on a favourite pair of pyjamas, brush your teeth and settle into bed to read by the light of a softly glowing lamp. Before long, your eyes are closed and you're drifting off to dreamland. Have you ever wondered, though, what might be happening while you're asleep?''
A beautiful, informative guide. A journey to the fascinating world of darkness. An exciting trip into the night and its enticing secrets. The enigma of sleep and the land of dreams. The life of nocturnal species, from the nightly walks of the cats to the wonder that takes place in the deep waters. The mind-blowing way in which owls perceive sound, the immense danger of light pollution, the extraordinary calculations of the plants during the night, the beauty and serenity of moon gardens, the awe we experience when we turn our eyes upon the night sky with the flickering stars, the beautiful moon, and (if we are so fortunate...) the auroras. The particular challenges of the midnight sun and the difficulties that come with the polar nights.
Beautiful illustrations and a handy Glossary complete a reading experience that should grace every child's bookcase.
‘'Up in the night sky, objects in our solar system spin, orbit, stream and fall, creating or reflecting light that shines toward us. The night still holds many mysteries about the wild and wonderful things that happen while we sleep. Maybe that's something you can dream about.''
Many thanks to Kids Can Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Without the River Thames, London would not exist.''
Mudlarking and London's past and present. There is an unbreakable bond between the great metropolis and the mudlarkers who bring the treasures of bygone eras to light. From the children ‘'mudlarks'' of the Victorian era to the ‘'explorers'' of our times, mudlarking is a journey in time.
Pre-historic beasts, votive offerings and coins, jewellery, remnants of the Roman times and the Viking threat. The traces of Britain following William the Conqueror, the might of the Church, the nightmare of the Black Death. Marvellous pilgrims' badges depicting St George and the Dragon, toy knights made of pewter.
The wealth and witchcraft obsession of the 16th and 17th century are demonstrated by beautiful artefacts, reminding us of the era of great discoveries and even greater crimes. Toys lost by the children who played by the river banks. Memento Mori rings dedicated to the ones who perished during the Great Fire. Love tokens. Beautiful Venetian glass beads. And pins. Let us not forget pins, such fascinating objects!
A prisoner's ball and chain originating from the floating prisons of the 18th century. The skull of a 12-year-old girl, dating back to the 1700s, was discovered in 2009. A victim of poverty and hunger. How bitterly ironic, standing side-by-side to golden shoe buckles and valuable cufflinks...
Market tokens dating back to the 19th century. Beautiful green glass medicine bottles. Ornate clay pipes. Lead toys and ‘''Frozen Charlotte'' dolls. Victorian Santa Claus figures and snow babies. Artillery shells from the two World Wars. Service buttons and Tommy helmets. Fascinating modern-day rings that declare carelessness, frustration, anger.
A fascinating book that offers us a generous glimpse of a turbulent and exciting past...
‘'London owes its very existence to the majestic Thames, and the city's history is intimately interwoven with the river. It is simply not possible to understand London without first understanding the river and all of its quirks and foibles.''Adrian Evans, founder of the Thames Festival Trust
Many thanks to Osprey Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'To let the Gothic roam where it will, twisting itself into shapes horrible and unseen. To wait for it to open its ancient mouth and to listen - to listen to what this age-old thing has to tell us about the terrors and wonders of our world. So, gather ring the hearth, or light a candle, and enjoy these tales of terror from some of the most talented oral storytellers in Scotland.''
The Warlock and Robbie Ha (Stanley Robertson): The story of a man who wanted to offer his help to an undertaker. But drinking in graveyards can be perilous. A tale full of Scottish humour, curses and spells in the country where there is always a wise old Morag to narrate legends as the wind is blowing over the glens...
‘'A house that caught and smiled with the sun. Yet when you passed it, even on a bright warm day, you could feel cold fingers touch the back of your neck, and your hair moved.''
The House (Seaoras Macpherson): Sometimes, even the darkest and angriest of houses are searching for the right owner...
‘'It is statistically true that when you're the passenger in a car, driving at night along a road outside a city or built-up area, one in four people you see by the side of the road isn't even alive.''
The Researcher (Fiona Barnett): How can you really distinguish a wraith walking at the side of the road?
‘'There's lots of reason people don't like the night-time, but some people are scared because they see what hides there, ‘' he said, looking at me, smiling sadly. ‘'Is that not right?''
‘'There is no rest; those faces that once moved only amongst the night-time shadows now stare at me at every hour of the day, as if pleading with me to gather them up in the warmth of the living, or to usher them forever into the dark. But I am no lamplighter.''
The Leerie (Paul Bristow): Dear Lord, this story was incredible! I've always thought there is magic hidden in the old gas lamplights, and seeing an actual lamplighter in Prague was a sight to cherish forever. This haunting story shows the ones that are hidden in the dark, lost, waiting for someone to point the way.
The Bean-Nighe of Glen Aros (Anna Cheung): A moving poem about the legend of the crone that washes the clothes of the ones who will die soon. I get goosebumps just by thinking of this one.
The Soulmates (Gavin Inglis): A story that begins as a harmless joke played on curious nightly wanderers by a cute couple and evolves into a heart-wrenching tale of loss and eternal love.
Twice-Buried Mary (Pauline Cordiner): A wonderful story of premature burial, resurrectionists and terror. Quintessentially Victorian.
Scan Lines (Ali Maloney): A moving story of a child who tries to contact his dead father in a rather unusual way. On a side note, I always feel a certain kind of nostalgia whenever a VHS is mentioned.
The Girl in the Sauna (Daiva Ivanauskaite): Ah, sweet Lithuania...This is the story of a clever, brave daughter who managed to trick the Devil.
From Abyss to Abyss (Paul McQuade): The desperate musings of an Edinburgh vampire, narrating its journey over the long, endless years.
The Thing in the Corner (Jude Reid): The desperation of a wife, the sacrilege, the return of a wounded soldier. The dark shapes and figures that lurk in the corners of our houses. And our guilts.
The Priest of Forvie (P.D.Brown): The arrival of a strange priest sends a village to a dance of darkness and misery. When children start disappearing, whispers about Dark Arts grow louder. A gruesome, frightening tale.
‘'Until I die. She rubbed where the etched words had caught her. If we had had breath, we would have held it.''
The Keep (Kristy Logan): Some things are natural. Natural. It is natural that Kristy Logan's story is the absolute gem of the collection. It is natural that she took Bluebeard's tale and turned it into a well of haunting darkness, masterful desperation and shuttering cries. It is natural that I read this story three times in a row.
Read this extract, please: ‘'Outside the caravan the rain shushed and the wind throbbed and the moon blinked bright. Inside, time stopped. The chattering burn stole all sound; the spreading leaves took all sight.''
I mean...
The Ghost Wife (Gauri Raje): An exciting story of tree spirits, ghost wives and the curse of having a tyrannical mother-in-law.
I Live Alone (Conner McAleese): What starts as a ‘'compulsive watcher'' story acquires an eerie feeling in the end. Those of us who live alone, are we sure we ARE actually alone?
Possessed by Ravens (Daru McAleece): The tragic story of the Old Ways and a lost young man.
When We Create Our Own Ghosts (Alycia Pirmohamed): ‘'As soon as night ravels, I open my jaws to eat midnight.''
The Wee Singing Bird (Betsy White): A spirited retelling of The Juniper Tree fairy tale.
Poor Anna (Max Scratchmann): A young girl visits her grandma in the Scottish glens and learns of Poor Anna, the child that was lost years ago. A haunting tale of dark callings and fairies with an ending that has stuck in my head for days.
Tala in the Woods (Katalina Watt): The horrifying tale of a young woman, pregnant with her first child, a strange mist and the creatures hiding in the woods. A story that makes perfect use of South American and Spanish folklore.
Lambkin (Sheila Kinninmonth): An old Scottish legend of curses and retribution.
‘'As I record this story, Anna, I am surrounded by this city constructed of towns built upon dead towns and buildings built inside bridges that should not exist.''
Anne of the Dark Eyes (Ricky Monahan Brown): A gruesome murder takes place in haunting Edinburgh. The culprit's name is going to be a thundering surprise.
The Stolen Winding Sheet (Fran Flett): Never steal from the dead...
...The Inheritance (Chris Edwards): How can I describe the sheer perfection of this story? A young woman inherits the ancestral home but make no mistake. This isn't your average haunted-house tale. Far from it...
Buried by the Dead (Jen McGregor): A woman visits her parents' grave and scares the hell out of a girl. I loved this story, its beautifully quiet descriptions of the cemetery in October and its elegant humour.
I didn't include five-six stories that seemed quite silly and borderline incomprehensible. No matter. This is a must-have collection for all horror and folklore lovers. Pay special attention to the haunting (and some of them are quite spooky...) illustrations by Zuzanna Kwiecien.
‘'If there was no reason to be afraid of the dark, why did we need lamplighters?''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Winter is a season that sparkles with magic and transforms our ordinary world into a glittering kingdom: rooftops covered in snow, lakes glazed with ice and windows frosted white. It is a time of year that invites exploration and whispers of adventure. And at the heart of it all there is a sense of longing - for snowflakes, stocking and sledging, of course - but also, for stories.''
There is magic in winter. In the tales of the cold, the darkness and the silence. In the creatures that find shelter in the snow, in the ones that rejoice over the silent lullaby of the snowflakes. The perfection that is hidden in this beautiful volume is depicted in the wonderful cover designed by Melissa Castrillon.
Without further ado...
‘'People need their freedom, Maya. They need to breathe.''
A Night at the Frost Fair (Emma Carroll): There is magic in a bite of gingerbread. There are dreams dancing amidst the crowd at the frost fair. There is freedom in the night air when a girl goes on an exciting adventure guided by her wise grandmother.
The Magic of Midwinter (Amy Alward): Svenland elves deliver presents to the children but they aren't particularly fond of people. But a princess wishes to see them and an adventure of fairy lights and baubles in a Winter Wonderland begins.
‘'One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth. Five for heaven, six for Hell, seven you'll meet the Devil himself.''
The Voice In The Snow (Michelle Harrison): A baby girl is born without a voice. Dolls of straw are burnt in a bonfire during the Summoning so that the lost return to their loved ones. A haunting tale of childhood and motherhood. Or the lack of it.
‘'Then did the angels weep tears of red blood. [...] And we were sunk into darkness and the place of wailing and chattering of teeth.''
The Cold-Hearted (Geraldine McCaughrean): A Scottish village cursed to remain frozen in time and darkness. A boy who tries to save his family in a story that is exciting and hilarious. It is Scotland, after all. Anything can happen.
‘'Now she was stepping through a pine forest, glittering with frost in the moonlight, her footsteps crunching in the snow. She was gliding through St Petersburg's most elegant ballroom, twirling in a silk dress, her skirts spinning out as she danced beneath the twinkling chandeliers. Then she felt the warmth of the fire against her face, and smelled the scent of home; she saw the candles on the Christmas tree, decorated with Mama's homemade gingerbread angels; and she was kneeling on the rug with Olga, drinking tea with jam.''
Casse-Noisette (Katherine Woodfine): The majestic city of St Peterburg is about to welcome Christmas. But a promising ballerina is on a personal quest to dance for the sake of her sister. A beautiful story set in the City of Cities and the world of ballet. I mean, can you resist the stage of the glorious Marinsky Theatre? Or Tchaikovsky? Or Pepita? Or Anna Pavlova? Or the world of The Nutcracker? Or Russia and her wonders? This is the jewel in the crown of the collection. Just leave me here.
‘'Can you hear the snow whispering, Orla? Can you hear the ice?''
Someone Like the Snow Queen (Berlie Doherty): Hans Christian Andersen's The Snow Queen is one of the most haunting and enticing fairy tales. In this enchanting story, we follow a girl who tries to find her little brother while struggling to come to terms with her father's death.
The Room With the Mountain View (Lauren St John): After three marvellous stories, this tale about an injured girl that tries to solve a mystery in a French ski resort seemed naive and spiritless. The circus company, the Hitchcock echoes, the villains. I don't know. I didn't enjoy the writing or the characters.
‘'Feel, Old teddy, with your pawThe coldness of the window pane,Watch me blow onto the glassAnd draw a picture of a train.''
Snow (Michelle Magorian): What a beautiful poem!
‘'Everymother whoever criedWhoever loved and ever sighedWhoever lost a child that diedWhoever grieved and ever weptWhoever paced and never sleptI am Everymother.''
Into the Mountain (Jamila Gavin): A beautiful retelling of The Pied Piper, an ode to motherhood and the innocence of our lost childhood.
The Wishing Book (Piers Torday): A girl has to cope with a horrible stepmother and her ‘'grandma''. Thank God for Granny Bike and her special Wishing Book, But we must always be careful with our wishes. I'm not sure about this story. I don't think I appreciated the direction in the end. In my book, some people are beyond forgiveness...
The Snow Dragon (Abi Elphinstone): This story contains some of the most beautiful winter descriptions I've ever read. And one of the most horrible characters with such a deep hatred for children that made me physically sick. A girl in an orphanage has been waiting for a family for years. And then, a dragon shows up...
‘'It was the first snow of the winter and it had come silently in the night - the way magic often does - but unlike the shadows and the moonbeams and the stars, this magic had stayed until morning. It had covered her ordinary world and transformed it into a glittering white kingdom, and as Phoebe looked upon it, her body tingled. The snow felt like a promise somehow, a pledge that today might be different from all the other days and that possibly, just possibly, there might be even more magic waiting for her.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Come now, little one, it's time to go to sleep.All the little children are tucked up in bed.Everyone is going to sleep, now that night is near.''
A beautiful, tender bedtime story of how Nature slowly prepares to welcome the night and its serenity, to forget the day's troubles in the caring arms of Sleep. The child is tucked up in her bed, the cat has fallen asleep amidst a plethora of toys, the animals of the farl and the creatures that find shelter in the forest await for the rising of the moon As the moonlight paints the earth in silver colours, we all seek some peace of mind.
Beautifully lyrical illustrations by Marit Tornqvist turn Astrid Lindgren's soothing tale into a treasure.
Όταν μια αγ#&€& κωλογρια αποφασίζει να αφανίσει το λαό που κάποτε της έδωσε καταφύγιο από τους Ναζί. Όταν ένας ανώμαλος.... Πρόεδρος της συμφοράς αποφασίζει να καλύψει τις δικές του πομπές με βόμβες και θάνατο. Όταν το απόλυτο στρατιωτικό μπουρδελο θέλει να δοκιμάσει νέες μεθόδους καταστροφής. Well, guess what: you failed.