Amalia Gkavea
‘'Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....”
“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”
“You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them...In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.”
Because there will always be a dedicated lamplighter and a child looking after a delicate rose in the world. And this is our source of hope...
'' ‘Divine Muse, sing of the ruinous wrath of Achilles...Begin where they first quarrelled, Agamemnon the King of men and great Achilles.' And what are they quarrelling about, these two violent, mighty souls? It's as basic as a barroom brawl. They are quarrelling over a woman. A girl, really. A girl stolen from her father. A girl abducted in a war.''
The Human Stain, Philip Roth
Queen Briseis can hear the army approaching her land. The Myrmidons, brave warriors, led by the greatest of men. Achilles, son of a goddess, favoured by gods and men. And equally doomed. Then, Briseis becomes a slave, one of the dozens of women who find themselves soulless trophies in the quarters of the victorious armies. Such is the fate of the spoils of war...
The Iliad is the ‘' mother'' of Western Literature. I'd say it is perfect by any standards. A ferocious story, immortal characters, love, intrigue, treachery, bravery, mercy, violence. But these are just words. The Iliad is greatness itself because it holds a mirror to every tiny speckle of the human soul. Our egoism, our fixated notion of ‘‘right'' and ‘‘wrong''. Our eagerness to degrade others, our merciless ability to wound those we love, our pride. And our blindness...
Pat Barker creates a marvellous work, based on one of the most intriguing characters of The Iliad, Briseis. The woman who found herself in the centre of the dispute that painfully divided the army of the Achaeans (if you don't know who the Achaeans are, I shall be severely frustrated...). Briseis is a big question mark in the epic. Can we allow ourselves to become romantic and believe he was in love with her? Was it just his wounded pride? Was she in love with her captor? Who can say, really? If we know The Iliad well, we have formed our own opinions. In Barker's novel, the lines are blurred and I loved that. As a reader, it gave me immense freedom and a great opportunity to contemplate. There are no cardboard characters. Achilles isn't a monster, Briseis isn't the soulless victim. She and the rest of the women try to make do with what they are allowed. The men fight, their wrath over a futile war to satisfy Agamemnon's greed has overcome the sense of righting the wrong and erupts. The women are the watchers. Yes, the victims, the voiceless one. But not being able to give a loud voice to your thoughts doesn't mean that you are silent.
''Sometimes at night I lie awake and quarrel with the voices in my head.''
Briseis was a queen, but a slave nonetheless. She just changed masters and I am not sure who was the worst. Her husband was filth. She was childless. No child equals non-existence. So, where is the freedom in that? She seemed freer in captivity than in her now destroyed palace. Therefore, I don't agree with the view that Briseis remains silent. How is she silent? Her thoughts are our primary guide to the narrative. One's voice isn't limited to words. Sometimes, thoughts are much more eloquent. And much more interesting. I also enjoyed the focus on Achilles during the second half of the novel and I appreciated Barker's portrayal of him. I've never liked him but I have to understand him better through her approach. You CANNOT have a novel about Briseis without Achilles. Deal with it. There are a few modern colloquialisms but I can swear on my bookcases that I didn't pay any attention to them. And that says a lot about the power of Barker's writing.
Much has been written about The Silence of the Girls, and I don't want to tire you. I don't dwell in pseudo-political messages or whatever they're called. Literary value is much more important than labels that don't interest me in the slightest. Pat Barker's writing moved me, terrified me, made me anxious to reach the end, an end I know like the back of my palm because I am Greek, the Homeric epics are in our blood. This novel stands among my favourite ‘‘Trojan War'' works, along with Margaret George's Helen of Troy and Bradley's The Firebrand. It proves that quiet lyricism and depth need no verbose tricks to form a powerful novel.
''So we spent the nights curled up like spiders at the centre of our webs. Only we weren't the spiders; we were the flies.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
When I reached about one third of the book, I had to check whether Giles Kristian was indeed the writer of this novel...
Unfortunately, this one failed to win me over. Without a firm basis on the Arthurian saga, this version of the battle against the Saxons during Arthur's later years seemed to me a poor attempt, similar to a ridiculous Hollywood movie or TV series. Full of stereotypical characters, the young, naive former monk, the pagan girl who gradually has the hots for said young man but also takes time to ridicule his beliefs, and extremely vicious, disrespectful view of the Christian religion.
Well, dear writer, you're free to go live in a cave, if you wish.
Repetition, wooden dialogue. I couldn't believe that this was written by the same author...Sorry, but no.
Many thanks to Transworld Digital and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
''...asking tough questions of schools and other institutions, but you're not questioning the institution you represent, which is the family, which is mothers and fathers. What role do parents play in a child's abuse?''
Ten stories centred on ten women named Claire. Ten women of different ages and backgrounds, dealing with motherhood, career, the duty of being a daughter, a sister, a lover. Dealing with what others expect of you and your own wishes and aspirations.
I was looking forward to this one. I mean look at THAT cover! Unfortunately, I was severely disappointed...
The Voice In My Ear: Following a tragic incident, a brave young journalist dares to expose the parents' hypocrisy in blaming everyone but themselves for their inability to properly raise and protect their children.
Broderie Anglaise: The preparation of a dress for a wedding becomes a poignant metaphor for the relationship between a daughter and her mother.
Patience: A scholar is obliged to leave her elderly mother under the care of an android carer. But what happens when you realize that a synthetic can look after your loved ones better than you? What happens when your passion for a book us crudely dismissed by ignorant?
''You look just like Pierce Brosnan'', Claire heard her tell the paramedic. ‘‘You do. Look at those eyes.''
I love Pierce Brosnan...
...Sorry about that...
The Man In Room Six: A young girl from Scotland and an Englishman discuss love and kindness.
With Them Intercede For Us All: This one was horrible, in my opinion. A story about a ridiculous love-struck woman, filled with every stereotype imaginable about my country, and deeply disrespectful towards our religion. And we don't say ‘‘Brava'' in Greece, ignorant writers!
''I wiped condensation off Elizabeth's bedroom window. She had a crow's -eye-view of the lawn and hedges, the cul-de-sac, the neighbours' gardens lit by security lights.''
Would You Rather: A teenage girl babysits a young girl plagued by a terrifying imaginary friend. What could have been an atmospheric story was reduced to a chore because of cheap porn references and unbearably awful dialogue.
Muster's Puppets Presents...: A young woman's cry of despair against her mother's cruelty. This story wanted to convey a poignant message but the execution seemed extremely off to me.
A Source: A very interesting, very realistic story about campus life, sexual assault and the easiness of being labelled a ‘‘racist'' in today's society.
Plight: A moving story of loneliness within the family, the relationship between sisters and brothers, the lonely journey of fighting a chronic illness.
No Two Were E'Er Wed: Again, a sex-centred story about two women and a man. Nope. I didn't finish this one...
Bottom line? I'm not familiar with Leviston's poetry and, frankly, I don't see myself choosing to read any of her work in the future. Yes, there were a few glimpses of beautiful writing but I am not the kind of reader who wants to read about sex page after page, hidden behind the often pretentious veil of Literary Fiction (which is my favourite genre) and Avant-guard writing. For me, this collection shot itself in the foot...
Many thanks to Random House UK and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''I made my way along the path I knew so well across the marsh. A cold, silvery mist swirled about me and evening stars began to appear. When I got to town, I was not surprised to find that Miss Havisham's old house had been demolished, but I took a stroll around the grounds, remembering every room that had once stood there. As I gazed around at the familiar surroundings, a figure stopped silently into the path before me. I was about to turn away when it stopped and I saw it was a woman. Drawing close I recognized the face I loved so well.''
Charles Dickens. The voice of the ones who were neglected, condemned to live on the margin, dying, ignored by the rich and their country. The man who exposed the immense exploitation and misery of children. The writer who captivated the hearts of readers from all nations and generations. The one who formed the Christmas festivities as we have come to know them. One of the immortals...
In one more beautiful edition by Frances Lincoln Children's Book, enriched with outstanding illustrations by Jannicke Hansen, eight of Dickens's masterpieces are masterfully retold by Angela McAllister so that the younger audience will come to know and love one of the greatest writers the world has ever seen and will ever see.
Let us remember them...
''It is a true tale of grief and trial, and sorrow [...] and such tales usually are; if it were one of unmixed joy and happiness, it would be very brief.''
Oliver Twist: The heartfelt story of a young boy and the cruelty of the London underbelly society.
''The night crept on apace, the moon went down, the stars grew pale and dim, and morning, cold as they slowly approached. Then, from behind a distant hill, the noble sun rose up, driving the mists in phantom shapes before it, and clearing the earth of their ghostly forms till darkness came again.''
The Old Curiosity Shop: A tale of deceit, treachery, familiar bond and injustice.
''I know enough of the world now to have almost lost the capacity of being much surprised by anything.''
David Copperfield: The novel that is said to reflect Dickens's own misfortunes brought about by the wrong choices of his father.
''The broken heart. You think you will die, but you just keep living, day after day after terrible day.''
Great Expectations: My personal favourite of his works. A haunting story of good fortune, second chances and hardships. Pip, Estella, Miss Havisham...Extraordinary characters...
''The only difference between us and the professors of virtue or benevolence, or philanthropy -never mind the name- is that we know it is all meaningless and say so, while they know it equally and will never say so.''
Hard Times: Possibly, one of the most complex novels by Dickens, a story of questionable choices and the occasional ambiguity of ‘‘good'' deeds.
''Humbug!''
A Christmas Carol: Christmas within the pages...
''You cannot stain a black coat.''
Nickolas Nickleby: I admit I never liked this one. Too much melodrama for my taste but who am I to judge Dickens?
''A multitude of people and yet a solitude.''
A Tale of Two Cities: An adventure of blind retribution, violence, sacrifice and redemption, set in ‘‘the best and worst of times.'‘
Many thanks to Frances 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/
''Lockwood had too many empty rooms. They sat there, hushed and gaping, waiting for my mind to fill them with horrors - spectres and shadows and strange creeping creatures. And sometimes what was already there was frightening enough: empty chairs; the hulk of a hollow wardrobe; a painting that slid off the wall on its own accord and shattered on the floor; the billowing of a curtain in a stray gust of wind; a light bulb that flickered like a message from the beyond. Empty rooms hold the possibility of people lurking inside them - truants, intruders, spirits.''
When we think of the ones that must be protected during a war, our mind always turns to human beings and understandably so. But what about the treasures kept within the walls of our museums, the evidence of the human's evolution, the proof that we aren't only bringers of destruction but also able to create wonders? Hetty's duty is exactly that. She needs to find a shelter for the collection of mammals belonging to the Natural History Museum, as the Second World War is swiftly approaching Britain. She cannot know that Lockwood Manor hides sins of the past, terrible anger, injustice and corruption. Between a devil woman dressed in white, disappearances and a very real Satan, Hetty and Lucy need to find a way of those who try to dictate their lives.
Welcome to one of the finest novels of the decade...
''The house seemed to encourage wandering, hunting - the long corridor of its first floor, with the wall sconces leading you forward, the tall windows, the neat condition of each room that a dozen servants tended to; the hidden service stairs waiting to be found; the narrow warren of the servants' floor; and above all the vacuum of life, the absence of people in the rooms that had been so lovingly prepared for them.''
There is a long, long British tradition of haunting stories set in foreboding manors. Think of Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, The Turn of the Screw, Rebecca. Stories where the House walks side-by-side with the characters, ruling their fate. In Jane Healey's outstanding novel, this concept comes to life to perfection. Lockwood -the name evident of its mystery and darkness- isn't just a setting. It is the driving force behind all actions. Its closed doors and dark curtains, its silent corridors reflect the secrets and the oppression that permeate its walls. The spectres that may or may not haunt the Manor are a mirror of the choices and their repercussions once we allow others to take over our lives. I loved the way Healey links the games of our childhood to the haunting element. How most of them are based on a risky, often violent, premise. From hiding to chasing, to being blindfolded or unwittingly struck by a companion. What is this primal tendency? What does it reflect, I wonder?
But do not think this is just a story about a mysterious manor. No. In Hetty and Lucy, Jane Healey has created two excellent characters. Both at a crossroads, both struck by the lack of a mother in one way or another, both trying to overcome the norms of being ‘‘proper ladies'', determined to swim against the current on so many levels. In the thoughts of the two young women and in their relationship, we can see the very notion of resilience, determination, and persistence, regardless of the cost. I would be frightfully negligent if I didn't mention the crucial and very mysterious role played by Lucy's mother, a character that deserves her own novel...
Extremely atmospheric, exquisitely written prose, excellent dialogue, brilliantly depicted themes, a wonderful continuation of the Gothic Manor sub-genre. A beautiful, beautiful novel!
''If there was a spirit in this house, it was me; if there was a haunting, it was my own.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''For you, I will build walls to push back the sea and will spin you a palace of domes and towers.''
Lady Malgrev of the Faerie Folk comes to the rescue of a brave, young prince. Through her powerful spells, they succeed in creating a mythical city and a beautiful family. But greed is a sickness and the Faerie Folk becomes weaker as the Old Ways disappear. With their mother passing away, the two princesses have to rely on their own abilities and gifts. Rozann and Dahut. One wild, dwelling in the moors, away from the machinations and the extravagance of the court, and the other retaining her mother's gift for miracles and the darkest kind of witchcraft.
''We live by devouring those we love. How can we help it? They're the ones within closest reach.''
Based on a Breton folktale, this is the wonderful story of the city of Ys, a city of marvels, sin and hidden terrors. Above all, it is the story of two sisters, so different and, yet, so alike, and their fight to fulfill their destiny. Witchcraft, bravery, obsession, betrayal. Doubts and the fear of carrying out an unwelcome duty. The struggle to keep the faith in yourself alive and the flame of hope that may seem out of reach. Both sisters are extraordinary characters with traits that will be familiar to all of us and weaknesses that are necessary to bring balance and drive their actions forward. Even if the dialogue is a bit off from time to time, the beautiful illustrations and the heart-pounding plot will not disappoint you.
And on a superficial note, Dahut is given the most magnificently outstanding array of green gowns ever!
''There is no trace of Ys, though sometimes fishermen say they hear the bells of the sunken steeples ringing in the deep, rocked by the tides. Or the singing of a maiden beneath the waves.''
Many thanks to First Second Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Love!'', the woman exclaims. ‘'All anyone wants to know about is love! My God! Is there nothing more important on earth than that? Why don't you ask the necessary questions: Will I have food in my belly? Will I have all my teeth? Will I be able to urinate without pain? But no, it's always love! It's pathetic.''
In a country that resembles Poland during the beginning of the last century, an elderly woman gives birth to a girl. What should have been a blessing turns into an ordeal. Isolated peasants, the parents notice that the child is unusual. Whispers about changelings haunt the mother's mind before she comes to accept that her Pavla is unique. More unique than she could ever imagine. Soon a story of transformation, desperate love and persecution begins, brilliantly written by Marisa Silver.
''Why is she staring at them? What horror does she see?''
This novel is full of horrors. Inspired by the wealth of Slavic myths related to wolves, Silver presents the complex theme of identity and transformation through the adventures of Pavla and Danilo. Using a wonderful combination of Folklore, seasoned with a sense of humour that varies from bittersweet to crude, and literary language that is raw and poetic, she chronicles the odyssey of being the Other. From the circus of extraordinary beings to the behaviour of the community of wolves, the terrifying asylums, the unspeakable horrors of war and the holiest obligation of protecting a child.
Each chapter, each page hides a surprise and there is no way the reader will be able to predict the story. Through misery, sadness, and isolation, a small glimpse of hope is born and change dictates our choices. Sometimes, though, Fate decides for us and all we can do is to adapt to new situations that may seem incomprehensible. The only problem I faced is the crude sexual remarks that were often and unnecessary, in my opinion. The story is so beautiful and constant emphasis on the brutal aspect of sex was tiresome.
The characters of Pavla and Danilo are excellent, full of surprises, their journey from innocence to the ugly face of life and whatever hope they still have left is beautifully communicated. Ivan is yet another memorable character, very realistic and his story was possibly the most moving sequence in the novel.
Little Nothing is anything but ‘‘little''. It is one more literary gem...
''All she can do is stare out into the night sky. Once, she would have said that night was simply black. But now she knew differently about colour and pain and delusion. Russet red, indigo blue, brown, other. She chants this litany to herself over and over, building up a wall of words that protects her from the sound of her mother's voice, the feel of the chill on the tips of her ears and nose, the smell of chimney smoke carried on the wind. She needs to block out any intrusion that threatens to remind her of her being.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''These people go out into the street, and walk down the street alone. They keep walking, and walk straight out of the city of Omelas, through the beautiful gates. They keep walking across the farmlands of Omelas. Each one goes alone, youth or girl, man or woman. Night falls;'‘''The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas'', Ursula K. Le Guin
In a church of a sleepy town, somewhere in the American South, a being is found. And I use the word ‘‘being'' because no one can determine whether the stranger is a boy or a girl. They are named ‘‘Pew'', after the pew they were found on. The residents of the town seem to be fascinated by the unexpected visitor, they offer hospitality and ‘‘protection'', believing that the silent Pew is the perfect listened to accept their confessions. Pew listens and watches but rarely speaks, only nods. When someone doesn't speak, judgement and condemnation stay away for the ones who confess their sins. But their ‘‘confessions'' are meaningless and things are bound to change when Pew doesn't behave exactly as they expect...
''I do wish they bloomed this time of year. It would give me some relief. But you can tell a tree whatever you like - it won't even listen.''
''All this bitterness. Everyone wants to be the one who's right.''
Pew is an innocent bystander, a silent watcher, an unwilling listener and confidante because of their silence. What initially appears as a confession of wrong choices and guilt, quickly turns into the worst form of patronization and manipulation behind the facade of ‘‘innocent'' curiosity and kindness. Pew hasn't asked for their ‘‘help''. These people aren't driven by kindness and generosity but by a frightening urge to alter the ‘‘different'', the one they cannot understand, the one who doesn't fall into their precious, perfect tags. If you don't like to talk, you are strange, dangerous. We live in societies where everyone wants to ‘‘talk'' and ends up saying nothing at all.
Act nice, look nice. Everyone's watching you. What would the neighbours say? The plague of all small communities. Wealth dictates whether you will be ‘‘respected'' or not, as Hilda demonstrates. Hilda. Hideous Hilda, the epitome of the uneducated housewife. Mr. Kercher, young Annie and Roger are tiny dots of light on a map filled with vicious people.
''After all the moon was here, calm night, warm and easy air, and all of it was ours.''
The frail body and the pale moon echo Pew's presence. Who is Pew? An archangel? A spirit? Pew, ethereal and earthy. Pew, led from one resident to another, first as if they were an exhibition item. Then, carried away like Jesus from Caiaphas to Herod to Pontius Pilate. And once more, religion is distorted to justify the rot in people's souls, their horrible actions, their ‘‘morality'' of stupidity and hatred.
Lacey creates a modern classic. Classics mirror our societies' wrongdoings and Lacey excels. Think of all those American sects, the charlatans, the hysteric so-called ‘‘priests'' that scream and pretend to ‘‘heal'' people who are desperate, uneducated and stupid enough to believe them. There isn't an ounce of forgiveness in this awful lot, in this god-forsaken town, somewhere in the American South. In a society where crying children are psychologically abused for disturbing the peace and upsetting the others. No one gives a damn about their feelings.
And the mob will always hold a trial about things they cannot understand. The mob will always believe they have the right to decide what is true and what is not. And there is nothing Christian in this behaviour. White people, black people...They all treat Pew in the same horrible way. Narrow-mindedness doesn't discriminate. It concerns every race, every religion, every individual.
Needless to say, this novel made me furious. Needless to say, every reader should choose Pew as their next read.
''Some years, but gone now. They had ended and would never return and would never end. They were mine, or had been mine, but now they were somewhere else, somewhere near and far from me. They didn't belong to anyone, those untouchable years. All that was left of them was their imprint, the empty field they'd left in me.''
Many thanks to Granta Publications and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''Αnd he used the ghost stories his mother told him, all those old Norwegian stories that terrified him. He wrote about a white horse that appeared suddenly, offering a ride, and if the reader decided to mount the horse, terrible death quickly followed. In another ending, the reader becomes a ghost trapped inside of a leaf, too bad to go to heaven, too good to go to hell.''
Samuel is a quiet, charismatic young professor, condemned to teach the beautiful subject of Literature to an audience of ‘‘students'' who prefer to get drunk and post naked selfies on Instagram. Playing an RPG is a way out of his own troubles and the absence of a mother who walked out of his life years ago. However, she is in trouble now and Samuel realizes that he needs to understand Faye's motive for abandoning him. He needs to understand these new, turbulent times. He needs to understand himself.
And this is one of the greatest American novels of all time...
''They're not protesting me, per see. Nor my company, specifically. More like the world that brought my company into being. Multinational. Globalization. Capitalism. The ninety-nine percent is, I believe, their catchphrase.'‘''Occupy Wall Street.'‘''That's the one. Pretty grandiose name, if you ask me. They are not occupying Wall Street so much as a small rectangle of concrete about a thousand feet away from it.''
I love Periwinkle.
Nathan Hill creates an exquisite story that takes us from Norway during the Nazi occupation to Iowa during the 60s, the Chicago riots in 1968, to the Great Recession and the Occupy Wall Street movement. He blends a dozen genres, from Magical Realism to Historical Fiction to Literary Fiction, and a hundred techniques and writing styles, and produces a masterpiece where politics and social issues are blended with the folklore of the Nordic lands and the storms that rage in our souls.
Hill comments on the madness that lies in the battlefield of politics. Which one is correct, which one stands on the wrong side of History? No one knows for sure. Racial issues, musings on sexual identity, social status, the publishing world, a deeply corrupted education and judicial system where rich kids have the power to demand the punishment of a teacher who refused to yield, where judges can persecute and condemn innocent citizens without fear or control. He provides accurate commentary on today's young audience who considers the classics useless and ‘‘why should we ever need to read these?'' Because you need education to become a better person, you idiots, that's why! I see it on bloody Goodreads all the time and it makes me shiver. But, hey, as long as we write intense (but short, mind you) monologues on Twitter. It goes without saying that I skipped the two chapters that included Laura, the most pathetic creature I've ever encountered in a novel and a mirror for most of today's society...
He vividly depicts the ignorance, naivety and narrow-mindedness of the radical groups all these years. Groups that are as tyrannical as the ones they protect against. But Faye doesn't buy their BS, nor does Samuel. Poor Faye is made to feel guilty for being better than her parents and their awful ‘‘social circle'' of brutes. To excel is to be proud and vain. Small wonder she had enough! Hill even touches on the ridiculous use of the word ‘‘toxic'', a part of today's language, beloved by the ones who aren't aware of the existence of other negative adjectives, because of Twitter and Facebook...
No need to tell you how much I loved Faye and Samuel and how much I loathed Alice, Laura, and Brown. In literary terms, I found this novel to be perfect. Flawless. There are many striking scenes, like the coffin-bearing procession and the 1968 riots. He creates such a brilliant depiction of scenery throughout and especially in New York which he describes with a particular fondness. And did you know that in Norwegian, gift could mean either ‘‘poison'' or ‘‘marriage''? Sounds about right, if you ask me.
There is a particular warmth about American Literature. I can't describe it with accuracy but I feel that even in the midst of extremely difficult events, there is hope and a sense of immediacy and tenderness. This novel is the very definition of this. The Nix is a one-of-a-kind reading experience.
''The things you love the most will one day hurt you the most.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
What do you get when your sister insists she has a guardian angel that is very fond of children who are willing to do the household chores? When you risk the safety of your new clothes to play football and when you can't resist playing with mud? And what if you actually decide to go to the funeral of a very unsympathetic elderly lady? What happens when you win a super prize that just proves to be too much for your poor throat? What can you say when your sister rebels against the rules imposed by parents and lures you in the quest for all the hidden Christmas presents and the result is a mess?
Simple. You get one of the most hilarious children's book series.
''On clear night day of darkmistsMy absent love in my armshereNo other part of me persistsBut what you whispered inmy ear.'‘Louis Aragon, ‘‘The Lilacs''
A young woman lives a quiet life, working as a teacher, mother to a young girl. Everything changes when Sarah enters her life like a whirlwind. A stormy relationship begins, taking the characters on trips all over Europe, in a love affair that resembles a volcano. And if it sounds cheesy, it is. Horribly.
Written in present tense, the focus is on Sarah through the eyes of her lover. Sarah is quite the character, her turbulent nature and temperament is a force impossible to be controlled and I really liked her. She reminded me of myself to a certain extent. Delabroy- Allard presents a story that is nothing to write home about and what power manages to achieve during Part I is quickly dissolved to an array of hysterics that I could neither understand nor empathize with. What I admired, though, was the writer's depiction of the complexity of love. When does it become an obsession strong enough to make you neglect your own child? In fact, the narrator was a horrible, egoistic, suffocating character. A hysterical, naive person and the repetition of her thoughts made me lose all interest during the second half of the book.
What kept me going was the beautiful setting of Paris during the spring. The writer paints with words when describing the City of Light, the sunlight, the boulevard du Montparnasse, the flowers, the vibe of this special city. Music plays a major part in the story and there are references to French culture and the films of François Truffaut and Jacques Tati.
To readers that have a heart and enjoy ‘‘stormy relationship stories'' without any other trace of a plot or a cast of actually interesting characters, this novel will work like a charm. I struggled to reach its last page and the result was utterly disappointing...
Many thanks to Random House and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''I spend an evening laid out on a moor, watching the wind, the crows, the distant vehicles caught in memories of this same land, further south; earlier, another time; then likewise caught in memories of home, of family, of the shifts and turns in fortune, of beginnings and endings, of caused and consequences.''
A family of three lives in a copse in Yorkshire. A father, a boy and a girl. Isolated, forgotten and forgetting, no mother, no friends, extremely limited human contact. John earns his living in extremely violent circumstances, his children are his sole support. Daniel and Cathy have reversed the roles expected by society. He is a poetic soul, a pacifist, a lover of nature and learning. She is the tomboy, the protector, the one who takes the bull by the horns, a force to make everything right. When their peace is disturbed by a horrible man, the two siblings realize they only have themselves to trust.
''Farms can be lonely places. They can be lonely places to have skin torn and bones crushed. They can be lonely places to die.''
Mozley does a terrific job in conveying the woodland atmosphere, the scenery of isolating and willing seclusion from a world that appears threatening. But is it really or do we make it seem so, guided by our own decisions? Can it be that we are that innocent? Our choices can lead to destroying consequences, I appreciated the moral dilemma presented in the story and the harshness of a life that comes withing a setting that many of us would consider idyllic, seen from the point of view of the big city resident.
The folklore of the moors and the woodlands is put to excellent use. The green men with their foliate faces, the wandering hounds, the cries in the night and the fleeting shadows passing through the lower branches, fascinate Daniel and form his strong bond with the land his family calls home. The forest is both a protection and a threat, the light changes as swiftly as John's mood does. These extracts are characteristic of Mozley's talent in prose.
''The morning smelt of wood and little else. The summer scents had been bottled by the cold. It was a clear day, though, particularly now when the sun was low, and bright rays cut raw across the grass.''
''We stayed out there for half an hour or so, watching the lanterns, playing with sparklers, smoking and chatting, breathing in the cool woodland air. When we walked back to the house we did so in silence, having already got out all our words for the day.''
Is beautiful prose enough in a novel? In my opinion, no. I need a strong story and characters. John is an enigma, balancing between violence and tenderness, a huge load of wrong choices and the agony of a single father. Daniel is the voice of reason and the hope of a child. The greatest riddle is Cathy. A complex character, unwilling to trust anyone, brave, ferocious and always ready to protect her family. But the story failed to attract me, eventually. What started as a literary, possible existentialist drama, lost direction towards the middle of the novel and never really recovered, in my opinion. The interactions were weird and too long as the characters practically perform monologues while engaging in an ordinary conversation. It was tiring and distracting. Things became worse when the story became a B-rated Hollywood thriller and the events became too chaotic, too implausible and, at the same time, too predictable.
The prose was beautiful, the setting was powerful, the characters of the family were interesting. But the plot...What it wished to be I don't know. What I know is that I have read a ton of truly powerful books. This one will soon fade from my memory. It was a good novel, perfectly acceptable and I am glad I read it. Βut that's it.
''The same old trains still ruffled on past, despite it all. I wondered what the train driver thought, and what the passengers thought, when they looked out the windows as dusk settles and saw our copse, and the crest, and the trail of thin black smoke coming from behind it.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''But the knowledge of the body stayed, like the blood-spattered scenes at the end of the Sagas: those age-old, heat-filled stories, which are told to children from birth and fill every Icelander with an understanding of violence.''
Ιceland, during the 17th century. A young woman, Rósa, loves the sagas of the old and the legends of her beautiful, untamed country. But times demand a husband for every woman and she obeys, following Jón to a land of whispers and shadows, where suspicions and prejudices keep the witchcraft accusations alive and her husband, with his harsh, secretive nature does little to put Rósa's mind at ease. And what are those noises that can be heard from the locked attic?
''A woman made of glass and stillness: perfect but easily shattered.''
Lea cleverly sets the story in Iceland, a country that fascinates us all, and the result is powerful at times. Her prose faithfully and vividly captures the wild nature, the menacing beauty of the sea and the wind, and the harsh, often cruel, nature of the villagers. If you are one of those who love the sagas, if you know the secrets and gifts of Nature, you are in danger of being accused of witchcraft and we all know where that leads, don't we?
The themes that move the story forward are what we usually encounter in the majority of Historical Fiction novels. The isolation of a woman who is more advanced socially and remains a stranger in the community of her husband. The limited access to her own environment, allowed only to ‘‘stretch her fingers'' as far as her husband's wishes go, the yearning for the life she left behind. The danger that comes from a man's dubious behaviour, the fear of an unknown threat of the past, the exploitation towards women whose defenses are weakened for a number of reasons. These are the issues addressed in the novel with considerable success and the setting definitely enhances the overall reading experience. However, this is not enough, in my opinion.
The dialogue and the main character are not satisfying, as far as I'm concerned. The dialogue is average, at best. Most of the time and when ‘‘spoken'' by Rósa, it is bad. It is the stuff of literary nightmare. How many ‘‘I-...''s do we need in a 300+ page novel? Or interactions that are cut mid-sentence to show how exhausted and exasperated and indecisive the character is? I mean, read this and make of it what you will...
''I am...well. I...I...I...must go.''
Really?
Over and over and over again. It makes Rósa appear weaker than she is as she's always ‘‘trailing off, helplessly'' or ‘‘nodding weakly.'' It drove me mad! And it is a pity because the story and the descriptive passages are perfectly written. I would have liked to have Jón as the main POV. As it is, Rósa is a character with zero personality. She is a ‘‘thing''. Not a woman, not anything. And how many times do we need to have the word baðstofa in italics? We know what it means!
To make comparisons with Burial Rites is a joke. It is a sacrilege. There we had a strong heroine and a truly mystical story. Here, we have a weakling, a trembling, passive idiot that is fortunately surrounded by interesting characters or else this would have been an actual ordeal. The plot is beautifully written even though it is predictable, saved by the Icelandic setting, and the latter third of the novel is very, very good. So, 3 stars, unfortunately, due to the irritation I felt every time Rósa opened her mouth (trembling, don't forget...). It is a good novel with many beautiful moments to offer, but it is nothing groundbreaking, nothing I have never read before. My expectations, strengthened by the reviews of writers I adore, weren't fulfilled...
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''- You should know, miss, money isn't found in the street. We have two bridges to rebuild, and three roads to fix, and twelve pavements to mend!,'' he growled and walked away.Miss Charlotte was dumbfounded. Bridges, roads, pavements...What about books? Aren't they useful, important, necessary?''
In a town where everything is neat and proper, and orderly, a whirlwind arrives. A whirlwind dressed in black, mysterious as the witches in fairy tales. An elderly woman, named Charlotte, takes the position of the librarian and changes everything. First and foremost, she is swallowed by every book she reads.
Literally. Miss Charlotte breathes and lives through books. She loves horror stories, and Bluebeard and falls in love with the Beast (yes, THAT Beast...) She wonders whether Cinderella received as many letters as the Queen, she phones the police to make sure that Bluebeard has been arrested and imprisoned.
And the children of the town experience a new world. The most magical world there is. They learn that there are books that make you dream, and laugh, and cry. Books that scare you to death, books that make you a better person. No matter what the thugs of the school may say, the children who find shelter in Charlotte's library know that ‘'when you have a book in your hands you are never alone.''
‘'She imagined beautiful books, books that make you laugh and cry, and tremble and dance, and travel. Books that tickle your mind, caress your heart, and electrify your spirit.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''We are here in the company of death.'‘ Jewish concentration camp inmate
A young boy finds himself lost, wandering in the countryside of an unnamed Eastern European country during the Second World War. The boy, mute and nameless, faces a world torn apart, a society that doesn't need any kind of war to change. It is a world stripped off all traces of kindness, compassion, and humanity, a world that preys upon a child in its most vulnerable moment.
''As these brightly coloured creatures sought the safety of their fellows, the other birds, seeing them as threatening aliens, attacked and tore at the outcasts until they killed them''
According to Kosiński, this novel is a dark fable that follows the path of Aristophanes' The Birds. But ‘‘dark'' doesn't even begin to describe it. I am sure most of you know have heard that The Painted Bird is cruelty personified. But it is a cruelty that needs to be read. Because it exposes every single monstrosity humans are capable of and we don't need war noises playing in the background to acknowledge this. We need to experience a boy's ordeals through birds and snakes and insects. A child who only vaguely recalls the tender moments of life with parents and whose personality is about to change by witnessing the most horrifying acts you can possibly think of.
We need to witness Evil circling above the heads of villagers who, in this world, are the lowest form of life as seen by the young boy. Even the ravens and the vultures are disgusted by the human corpses. We have to experience the enchantment of the huldra, the cruelty against the Different, the mob that cries ‘‘witchcraft'' while praying to a vicious Satan that no Bible could ever mention.
''A rotting crucifix, once painted blue, stood at the crossroads. A holy picture hung at the top, from which a pair of barely visible but seemingly tear-stained eyes gazed into the empty fields and red glow of the rising sun. A gray bird sat on an arm of the cross. On catching sight of me, it spread its wings and vanished.''
''I saw witches hanging from the trees. They stared at me, trying to lead me astray and confuse me. I distinctly heard the shudders of wandering souls which had escaped from the bodies of penitent sinners.''
The boy's life is filled with graves in silent cemeteries and wandering skulls. The wind rages, the dead moan their sorrows, the dogs howl in desperation and madness. The prayers are hypocritical, the shadows are long and Death haunts the child's every step. The wrath of an animalistic mob knows no limits. There is no pity for the innocents who are jammed in the wagons, heading to the gas chambers according to the desires of the German viciousness of Hitler and his squad of monsters. They have no pity for those who try to escape their doom. There is no pity for a lonely child. He is a Jew. An Other. Cursed and vilified. Without a land, or a home, or a family. Without the right to exist. It doesn't matter who fights against the Nazis and the Soviets. The villagers need no pretext to unleash Hell.
Yes, this novel contains every possible trigger warning you can think of. To the absolute extreme. And so does life itself. Do I think this portrayal is accurate? Do I believe that human nature is actually capable of the absolute Evil as portrayed in this novel? Of course, I do. The answer lies in the course of History.
''The urge to survive in inherently unfettered. Can the imagination, any more than the boy, be held prisoner?'‘Jerzy Kosiński
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
“If video games make you stupid, then what do mobile phones make you?”
A young boy buys egg sandwiches every day. The reason? The mysterious young woman behind the counter. Her black hair and beautiful eyes with eyelids the color of blue Popsicles make him fall in love with her. His visits to the store provide his sole wish in an otherwise mundane daily life where no one seems to understand him.
Kawakami creates a novella about what we like to describe as “the coming-of-age” of a boy but I don't think that Ms. Ice Sandwich is just that. The child is the only focus of the narration and we see his world through his eyes and enter his mind. His mum is a kind of fortune-teller, distant and quite selfish, her only activity is staring at a mobile screen. Like, you know, 90% of our stupid world...His classmates are indifferent, with the exception of Tutti, his father left the picture long ago. His only confidante is his seriously ill grandmother, his escape is sketching beautiful sceneries.
Through his thoughts we are shown truths and realities, his innocent remarks aim at the heart of the significance of appearance in this society. The bright blue eyeshadow of the woman is disturbing to many customers. She is different. Why? The public decides and condemns. The young boy questions everything, he is sensitive and begins to regard the world of the adults as a seriously weird territory. Tutti, his friend, is a girl who loves violent action films and drawing gunfights. Gradually, the boy understands that loss, sentimental and physical, is one more reality he will have to come to terms with.
There is a quiet critique in Kawakami's writing, a tenderness towards a protagonist we would like to hug and protect and have endless conversations with. Behind the whimsical tone and the elegant humor, there is sadness about the deep loneliness of a child who is an old soul, wise and honest. On a side note, I loved the use of The Tinderbox, one of my favorite fairy tales, within the context of the boy's story.
“Well, then you'd better come back again and watch. He's the best-Al Pacino!”, she says, a big grin on her face.“What's that?”“You know-the film we just saw Lieutenant Hanna. Al Pacino plays him.”“Oh, it's somebody's name. I thought it might be how you say goodbye in some other country.”
Japanese Literature is a world treasure. We need ALL of the translations and I can't wait to read more of Kawakami's work.
“But then I find that I can't say any more and I stop talking. It's silent in the room, like time has just stopped, but after a bit I can hear a bird chirping. It feels like it's coming from so close by that I spin around to check, but there are no birds anywhere.”
Many thanks to Pushkin Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''People tossed all sorts into the river, including themselves.''
London, 1754. Bess is one of the unfortunate mothers who have to leave their children in the Foundling Hospital, with the desperate hope that she will return to claim her. And indeed, six years later she comes back, true to her word. But her daughter isn't there. Someone else has claimed her as her own. Bess starts a quest that will lead her in the circles of the metropolis upper class, exposing the hypocrisy, while the lower classes struggle to earn the daily bread.
If you had any doubts as to whether The Foundling was as good as The Familiars, rest assured. Stacey Halls's second novel is equally exciting, poignant and very, very different. She creates a story dedicated to motherhood, womanhood and the undying devotion of a mother towards her child. Two women who lost their mother at an early age try to come to terms with what it means to care for a child. One is a natural, the other fails miserably. One woman gives unconditionally, the other offers money but no tenderness.
There are so many themes intertwined in the story of Bess and Alexandra. Halls chooses to place the action in the 18th century, but both women can be characterized as ‘‘modern'', without being unrealistic. They rule their fate, they choose to lead their lived by their choices, and although they are aided or hindered by men, the course of the action is decided by them. Even though their backgrounds are opposite, they are both independent. It is also interesting that Halls decides to depict Bess's warm relationship with her father, so there is complete balance in the depiction of the role of the two sexes.
The two women at the opposite ends of the spectrum not only financially but also psychologically. Bess is pragmatic, sensitive, level-headed, honest and determined. I loved her and I do wish she had been the sole focus of the novel. I did not like Alexandra at all, I couldn't understand her, I couldn't accept or respect her views. She is deeply troubled and represents the epitome of the hypocritical upper class. She is incapable of any trace of tenderness towards a child, to the point of being cruel. She lives in the past but there is no excuse for her tyranny. Doctor Mead and Lyle are great characters and I really loved them.
''Like the Thames tide the city had a temperament, and it could give or take.''
I've often said that London is a character and this novel is no exception. Georgian London is not very different from its Victorian version. The smells, the sounds of the market, the gardens, the promenades of the high society and the derelict houses of the less fortunate. Every inch of the city comes alive, providing the noisy setting of a very humane story.
The subject matter could have easily become a frightful melodrama but not here. Not when a novel is written by one of the best writers of today's Historical Fiction. A hymn to the bond between mothers and daughters and to staying true to yourself, fighting for what belongs to you.
''You gentry morts have no clue. You sit in your drawing rooms and bury your heads in your cushions, cause prison don't happen to the likes of you. You read about in the papers, but it's just a story to you. An idea. I can tell you what it's really like.''
Many thanks to MIRA and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''The men and women who are most interesting to talk to, and who know most about things, are nearly always those who have lived with a library and in a library, and have read books because they loved them and not because they were forced to do it.''
The story of St.Paul the Hermit and his ravens. The bravery of St. Dorothea of Caesarea. The magnificent tale of St. Jerome and the lion. Synesius, Hypatia's student, and ostrich hunter. St, Cuthbert and the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. St. Columba and the island of Iona. The strange experience of Brendan and the ordeal of judas Iscariot. The amazing story of St. Dunstan, the advisor of four kings during the fight of Wessex against the conquering Danes. The life of St. Margaret of Scotland amidst the enmity between two nations and the moving life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary who had to deal with a fiendish mother-in-law (surprise, surprise...) and an all-around dysfunctional family.
We are all familiar with the story of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals and against dying alone. We also read about St. Colette of Corbie, the patron saint of expectant mothers and infants in need, and her mystical life, we learn about the adventures of St. Francis Xavier, the apostle of the Japanese, and the offer of João de Deus who founded the Brothers Hospitallers and became one of the most revered saints in Spain and Portugal. And, naturally, we are given the different versions of St. George, a major religious figure of Christendom (and not only) and the patron saint of England.
A beautiful collection of myths, legends and facts that combine the sacred and the adventurous. A very different, unique read. And God knows, this is a time for saints and heroes, indeed...
Don't comment on whether you are a believer or not. I really, really don't care and I don't discuss religious matters. So, don't try. It won't end well...Trust me.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''Μrs Bird says if people get themselves into a silly pickle, they've only themselves to blame.''
London is trying to survive in the middle of the Blitz. The Londoners are doing their best to go on with their lives, amidst the devastating results of the air raids. A young woman, Emmeline, wants to become a war correspondent. However, she is stuck in the ‘‘headquarters'' of a dying magazine, typing letters addressed to Mrs. Bird, a formidable editor who gives advice on everything. Everything that doesn't fall into the subcategories of...Unpleasantness. Which is a problem. Emmeline takes the discarded letters (and their writers) under her wings and becomes...Mrs. Bird.
''It's all absolutely under control.''
Well, not quite. Control is lost when decorum takes over in an era where changes abound, brought about by the special circumstances that arise in a terrible war. However, problems that concern daily issues do not stop. They need attention and require solutions, and this is why Emmeline dedicates herself in solving the problems that Mrs. Bird refuses to acknowledge.
Α.J.Pearce writes in pleasant language about circumstances that are anything but. Seemingly light-hearted, her writing elegantly exposes a major issue of the era. Women were denied information and means of prevention and protection in the name of propriety, They were not the Good Sorts that Mrs. Bird accepts. Their morality was frightfully low...Young love, (or love in general), sexual relations, divorce, pregnancy, menopause. Unpleasantness is everywhere along with the traits that Mrs. Bird considers as signs of weakness. In a time when Death was literally around the corner and women volunteered their powers to the fight against tyranny, they were denied their independence and vital information to protect their well-being. Their last resort was to address a...magazine.
Emmeline is a stubborn girl and I really liked her. Thankfully, she is the heart of the novel. The rest of the characters are nothing to write home about with the possible exception of Mr. Collins. Bunty is utterly irritating, Mrs. Bird is a cardboard shrew, the male characters are used as vehicles, doing nothing. The problem with Emmy is that she is awfully good. Too good. And immensely naive to the point of exploitation. And yet, there was something in the way her character is constructed that I couldn't help but sympathize with her, even though her motives and choices were completely beyond my understanding of behaviour and decisions.
The atmosphere of London during the dark years of WWII comes alive and although the story could definitely be characterized as ‘‘predictable'', there is much to find below the surface. Sometimes, a read that is light-hearted and meaningful is all we need...
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''Although Freddie usually began by saying something gracious, the caller's first instinct was that of self-preservation, or even to make sure that the door, now to the rear, could be reached in a hurry. Yet in fact, no one left before they had to. The margin between alarm and fascination was soon crossed.''
At Freddie's, young students are preparing to conquer the London stage and film industry. At Freddie's, despairing teachers with questionable skills do the best they can through meager means. At Freddie's, a formidable headmistress has created an institution out of nothing. They say Theatre is hard but you have seen nothing like Freddie yet...
''You must tell me the moment I start going to pieces.''
Penelope Fitzgerald worked for the BBC during the nightmare of the Blitz. She offered her services in a small bookshop in Suffolk, she lived on a barge on the Thames, working as a teacher at a stage school. She is the ideal person to take us on a tour in a world - because that's what Theatre is - of talent and misfits, opportunities and disaster. And somewhere at the back of the auditorium, knowledge, and hope are clapping knowingly...
Freddie is a force on its own. She has succeeded in creating an institution but what happens now? The 1960s are changing the world day by day, the demands of the entertainment industry are different, the competent teachers are hard to find. The young students don't seem to care about knowledge and personality. They just want the right ‘‘now'' that will bring them to the wealthy ‘‘tomorrow.'' Pierce, an indifferent young man, is a teacher who wants a salary and a wife. On his own terms. Hannah is the ray of light. The idealist teacher that tries and tries but is in danger to fail because of her fleeting heart. She portrays the independence that is becoming a reality for the young women of the era.
One could say that not much happens in the course of the novel. But this is not that kind of a novel. This is a comedy of manners and characters. A look, however brief, to the reality of the children who saw Theatre as a way to success, in a country where Theatre runs in the blood of every citizen. The reality of the teachers who try to communicate with their students, while their problems have to be put aside in order not to crush them. In a time when values and codes of behaviour are being altered, a headmistress refuses to go with the flow. And where does Shakespeare stand in this situation?
In elegant sarcasm and acute characterization, Penelope Fitzgerald writes about a society and an institution that try to decide which direction to follow.
Beautiful Introduction by Simon Callow.
''It's a great mistake to live with past victories.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''I smell the rising fog of the crowd's breath. It warms my feathers against the thin dawn air and I watch. I feel, too. More than a bird should feel. The sorrow which lies over the assembly like a shroud. The fear. The uncertainty and the regret.''
A boy who watched his people perish. A student who became the first among his ranks, guided by Lady Nimue and Merlin. A young warrior who fought by the side of a great leader. A man who loved the one woman he wasn't allowed to. A fighter. A betrayer. His name became part of the greatest saga. Lancelot.
''The day after Uther died, grey clouds rolled in from the ocean to cloak Tintagel in a dark pull and the sound of women's wailing hung in the air like the threat of rain. I'd heard some women saying that Britain was gods-cursed, which was why the Saxons were getting stronger while our own great warlord lay stiff and cold.''
It seems difficult to breathe new life to legend that has been echoing loudly throughout the ages. No matter our cultural background, we all know about Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Morgana, Merlin and Morder and the stories of the Knights of the Round Table. By placing Lancelot at the centre of the action, Kristian achieves the impossible. He makes the legend new, he creates a wondrous tale that you feel you've never heard before.
The story is stripped of most of High Fantast elements. What we have is a very realistic, raw and rich adventure of a land that tries to stand on two boats. The pagan past and Christianity, the lust of every warlord-king and the urgent need to unify and defend itself against the invaders. Whatever magic there is can be found deeply connected to the ancient roots and the sacred traditions that accompany the warriors of old before a new age that is about to begin. Lancelot embodies the very humane confusion of struggling to belong and do your duty, divided by good sense and the demands of the heart that walks on a path of its own. The druids and their conspiracies, the gods of War and the Sea and the shriek of Morrigan's call are loud and depicted in extraordinary detail and accuracy.
Lancelot is a controversial character in the Arthurian saga. Here, he becomes the protagonist, a very sympathetic voice who fights between loyalty and love. Arthur is the leader we all know, Merlin is the voice of the past, Morder is the sly one but his motives are clear and he becomes quite the tragic figure. It is Guinevere I really, really loved. Kristian presents a true heroine, enchanting, mysterious, pragmatic, level-headed. As it is always the women who are blamed for every ill that befell Arthur and his dream, this version of Guinevere is the best I've ever come across.
Fierce battles, legends that rise from the mists of a sacred land, character larger than life. Giles Kristian reimagines the Arthurian epic and the result is unique. I can't wait to read Camelot.
‘A prince without a kingdom and a hawk that can't fly. The bards could weave a sad tale there.''‘
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'I don't care that they stole my idea...I care that they don't have any of their own.'' Nikola Tesla
The story of the man who invented the future. The man who gave us progress, evolution, new life. The son of Serbian blood, the offspring of a priest and an extraordinary woman who loved making tools and stories of chivalry and adventure. The young boy who experienced a family tragedy, a harsh illness. The student who travelled Europe in search of knowledge and inspiration. The scientist who was betrayed by those who weren't fit to so much as look at him. His mind changed the world forever.
Do your children and your students a favour and give them this book as a gift. Let us for once appreciate the ones who brought light into the darkness.
‘'The present is theirs; the future for which I really worked, is mine.'' Nikola Tesla
Many thanks to Capstone Editions and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''In the original story, the little mermaid endures unspeakable pain to gain her human legs. The Sea Witch warns her that her new feet will feel as if she is walking on whetter blades, but she will be able to dance like no human has ever danced before. And so she drinks the witch's potion, which slices through her body like a sword.''
Seoul, South Korea. Four women try to make ends meet in a society that has raised them with unattainable expectations, corrupted aspirations and images they have to fulfill. Ara has fallen in love with a K-Pop singer, her obsession adding up to her personal ordeal. Miho tries to balance her upbringing and her New York experiences while dealing with her intense feelings for a handsome womanizer. Wonna struggles to fulfill the expectation of being a mother. Kyuri falls prey to her lust for beauty and money and sacrifices her body and, more importantly, her sanity and dignity. But what else is there to do in a reality that worships plastic surgery, financial superiority and ridiculous, fake pop icons?
Frances Cha writes with clarity and honesty and allows hints of satire, albeit acute and a little morbid. She comments on a set of rules that has to be obeyed, in a system that comes young female souls away, convincing them that they MUST act as everyone -and especially men- expect them to. Beauty and money are brutally connected to each other, it has always been a reality for most women in all cultures throughout the ages. In this novel, we see this bond in its most extreme version. You have to make money, to put it simply and clearly. You have to make men fall in love with you. Therefore, you need the perfect face according to the pop-star standards. And plastic surgery is the means to an end.
With money comes exploitation and the feeling you can manipulate others as others manipulate you. Sex becomes a weapon of persuasion and a means for the elite to achieve its goals. And when you fall in love, society has already fed you with despair so you become obsessed. More and more, faster and faster. Nothing remains untouched, even motherhood is contaminated. If you don't want children, you are an abomination. If you can't raise them, you become a walking guilt. Cha depicts an immense, impossible indifference and absolute cruelty behind the shiny facade.
However, the camaraderie between women is an escape, a haven where minds can be unburdened and hearts can be made lighter through shared feelings, even for a while. The voices of the four main characters are distinctive, their thoughts seamlessly communicated to the reader, as we try to understand them and their motives and choices. My favourite character was Miho. She was the restless spirit, the one whose horizons were broadened through Art but her soft heart was there to threaten her.
Ι've said it again and again. South Korean Literature is a mystery, a treasure, an enigma to be decoyed with each book. If I Had Your Face is no exception. It is real and through-provoking, an unsettling call to consider our views on social status, ‘‘idols'' and a worldwide industry that wants us beautiful, willing and silent. It is one of the best novels of the year.
''The raindrops keep falling, more thickly now. So we all stand up to make our way upstairs together, as the sky starts crackling, taking aim at each of us and the drunk men stumbling by.''
Many thanks to Penguin Books UK and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
''Oh, the day is done, the harvest's won-The apples and the hay,The leaves will wither on the bough,And all will fall by Devil's Day.''
Decades ago, the Endlands were attacked by the Blizzard. Livestock and residents fell to its wrath. But that was no ordinary blizzard. It was an attack orchestrated by the Devil.
Now, Devil's Day commemorates the survival of the community. Now, it is a day for gathering and remembering. An autumn ritual of golden leaves, acorns, and mossy branches. A chance for the children to sing songs and light bonfires. A day to satisfy the Devil, then keep him away. Because ''all stories in the valley have to begin with the Devil.''
''All we ever saw were stories.''
John and his wife, Kat, return to Lancashire for Devil's Day and the funeral of John's grandfather. Once in the village, the couple realizes that the past hasn't died, secrets are gradually surfacing and danger comes from all sides. How can you cope with expectations and obligations? How can you obey customs that seem too threatening to be considered mere ‘‘legends''?
''A vixen yelped in the trees by the Beasley's bridge, hollow with hunger. And further away, I thought I heard the moaning of the stags on the moor.''
Hurley's writing is exquisite when it comes to the depiction of the moors and the influence of the beautiful, untamed, mystical landscape. Hard for a story not to ‘‘bathe'' in the unique atmosphere of the moorlands. In this novel, the land isn't just vaguely strange. It is downright threatening. Its residents have created a claustrophobic society glued to a distorted notion of tradition, unwilling to change, unrelenting towards the strangers, like Kat, who cannot ‘‘understand'' the passion of following dubious customs and the obsession with continuity.
''It was hard to describe the noises that were there behind them as they made their way along the Corpse Road, the Gaffer said. Like crows calling and yet like children crying too. And every so often, the sound seemed to fly over their heads, low enough to make them duck, a hard, loud scraping like metal on stone.''
Lancashire has an abundance of myths and folk tales associated with the darkest elements of Folklore, like witchcraft and the Devil. The heart of the story brings to mind the well-known incident of the Devil's Footsteps that took place in Devon in 1855. In Lancashire there are tales of school children unwittingly raising the Devil in Burnley and Clitheroe, there are sites rumoured to have been built with the intervention of Old Jack and, of course, let us not forget the infamous Pendle Witches. Apart from the Devil stories, the county is a land where the pagan past found ways to infiltrate Christianity, something that can easily be observed in the harvest and solstice rituals of the British countryside. So, folklore related to Death and the Devil is very prominent in this novel. In addition, Hurley enters the field of Contemporary Folk Horror, reminiscing cult British films of the 60s and 70s, making use of the motif of the expectant mother who becomes more and more sensitive to anything unusual and dangerous.
So, as far as the atmosphere and the story are concerned, Hurley's novel is exceptional. The problem I faced had to do with the characters. With the exception of Kat whom I wanted to comfort since the beginning of the story, the rest of the cast is beyond irritating. Especially the female characters from Liz to Grace and anyone else were the epitome of horrible characterization and the most negative portrayal of female camaraderie and motherhood. Everyone is utterly bonkers and poor Kat has to put up with a squad of barbarian fanatics and the most pathetic husband imaginable. This was an issue I encountered in Starve Acre as well, my introduction to Hurley's work. His skills in creating interesting characters seem to be extremely limited...
Starve Acre was a whooping disaster for me. Devil's Day was far better in terms of atmosphere, dialogue and plot but the characters were impossibly weak. My fondness for Folklore and the moorlands along with the beautiful writing made me rate this novel with 4 stars. I reserve judgement on Hurley, though, until I read The Loney.
''Rise, Devil, rise;Open your eyes.Wake, Devil, wake;Eat up all your cake.Come, Devil, come;Whiskey, wine and rum.''
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