Amalia Gkavea

  “Στο μεταξύ, κάτω στη γη ο βασιλιάς ήταν έξω φρενών. -Δε μου λες, σε παρακαλώ, ρώτησε τον καγκελάριο του, γιατί συνέχεια ψιχαλίζει καλοκαιριάτικα και γιατί οι χαρταετοί μού φεύγουνε από το χέρι και γιατί γίνεται ολική έκλειψη του ήλιου κάθε φορά που γδύνομαι τσίτσιδος και πάω να κάνω ηλιοθεραπεία, άσε που έχω κουφαθεί από τις βροντές.”

Στο βασίλειο της Παμφαγίας, Ο Φυρδης Μιγδης είναι ο προσωπικός φωτογράφος του Τετραπαχου του Τέταρτου. Ενός γκρινιάρη, αμόρφωτου βλάκα, κλασικό παράδειγμα τυράννου. Όμως ο φωτογράφος μας δεν αντέχει άλλη τρέλα και φεύγει με το αερόστατο του παππού του για τα σύννεφα. Απίθανα ευτράπελα συμβαίνουν όταν οι φωτογραφίες του αλλάζουν τα καιρικά φαινόμενα και ο Μεγαλειότατος αρχίζει να αναρωτιέται.

Ένα υπέροχο παραμύθι για το τι μπορούν να κάνουν δυο σύννεφα, ένας χαρταετός, Ο ήλιος, το φεγγάρι,η αστραπή κι ένας ιπποπόταμος.

Εξαιρετικός Ευγένιος Τριβιζας, υπέροχη εικονογράφηση από την Βαλλυ Λιαπη.

Ένας εκκεντρικός κόμης της Κορνουάλης αποφασίζει ν'αφήσει ένα σεντούκι που περιέχει έναν αμύθητο θησαυρό σε κληρονόμο ο οποίος θα βρεθεί μέσω...τηλεφωνικού καταλόγου. Ο τυχερός ονομάζεται Τιμόθεος Πέπερμιντ. Κατοικεί στο Πίμλικο και βγάζει τα προς το ζην (λέμε τώρα...) ως μουσικός και συνθέτης αριστουργημάτων τα οποία δεν έχουν ακόμη δημιουργηθεί.

Πέντε καράβια που δεν ταξιδεύουν πουθενά, κλεισμένα σε γυάλινη φυλακή, θα ταξιδέψουν τον Τιμόθεο στην Ελλάδα, τη Βραζιλία, την Ουγγαρία, τη Νιγηρία, την Τασμανία. Θα συναντήσει πρόσχαρους υδραυλικούς, φιλόξενες γιαγιάδες, νωχελικούς οδηγούς, γενναίους θηριοδαμαστές, μυστηριώδης ιερείς, μια πανέμορφη, αινιγματική ακροβάτρια και μια περίεργη σκιά που τον ακολουθεί σε όλα τα ταξίδια. Θα βρεθεί σε πολύβουες αγορές, ύποπτα καφενεία και ξενοδοχεία, σε καρναβάλι και ποδοσφαιρικούς αγώνες, σε κατακόμβες και ζούγκλες.

Ένα υπέροχο βιβλίο μυστηρίου, γεμάτο από γνήσιο Ελληνικό χρώμα και ευτράπελα, από τον αγαπημένο μας Ευγένιο Τριβιζά.

 “Γύρω από τη μεγάλη αρένα το πλήθος περίμενε ανυπόμονο. Οι δουλτσινεες έκαναν αέρα με τις βεντάλιες τους. Οι μικροπωλητές πουλούσαν ηλιόσπορους, φιστίκια και ποπ κορν. Οι πικαντορ χοροπηδούσαν κι έκαναν επικύψεις για να είναι σε φόρμα, ενώ οι τορεαντορ έστριβαν τα τσιγκελωτα μουστάκια τους και καμάρωναν, όπως τα χρυσά σιριτια και τα χρυσά κουμπιά τους αστραποβολουσαν κι έλαμπαν στις ηλιαχτίδες.”

Στην Ισπεπονια, Ο διάσημος ταυρομάχος Ελ Πεπολδο ντε Θαλουθας ντε Βερεγγας ντε Βεράντας ετοιμάζεται για την επόμενη αναμέτρηση. Στο μυαλό του, η όμορφη δονια Ροζιτα Ντολόρες Μαμασιτα Μασουλιτα με τα εβενινα μαλλιά. Όμως, η μέρα του αλλάζει όταν δέχεται μια απρόσμενη επίσκεψη από την Αμαλασουνθα, μια απελπισμένη αγελαδίτσα.

Μια πανέμορφη ιστορία από τον εθνικό μας θησαυρό, Ευγένιο Τριβιζά, μέρος του υπέροχου κόσμου των Ιστοριών από το Νησί των Πυροτεχνημάτων. Ένα παραμύθι για το πως μπορούμε να αναγνωρίσουμε τα λάθη μας, να βρούμε την καλοσύνη μέσα μας και να αλλάξουμε τα πάντα, καθώς και μια εύστοχη, ευγενική κριτική για το αποτρόπαιο “εθιμο” των ταυρομαχιων.

Υπέροχη εικονογράφηση από τον Νίκο Μαρουλακη.

  ‘'-I need to read Alice, by Lewis Carroll.-In Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass?-I'd prefer at home.''
In the Temple area, between Fleet Street and the Embankment in the City of London, you'll find a bookshop owned by a formidable gentleman -who is anything but gentle- Dickens would be proud to have conceived for one of his exceptional novels. This bookshop provides refuge for a boy whose head is not in the clouds but in the stars, an aspiring writer and a barefoot fairy from Spain who has dedicated her life to Antiquity and its enchantment. A bookshop that marries Aristotle, Plato, Voltaire to Tim Burton, Alphonse Mucha and Gustave Doré. Shelley and Byron, Shakespeare and Walter Scott, William Faulkner and Tolkien, George R.R. Martin and Jean Teule. 
You will meet a lady who has fallen passionately in love with reading and demands that Frodo not die, more chapters in a book already finished, and wishes to start a correspondence with fictional characters. Customers who think that a bookshop sells DVDs, and others who can't tell the difference between a series and a stand-alone novel. No matter. There are scones, hot chocolate, and Earl Grey on the ready for the happy few who understand. Livingstone is cantankerous and charming. Agnes is the driving force of change, John Lockwood couldn't be more different than his infamous namesake from Wuthering Heights, Oliver Twist (not THAT Oliver Twist) will form a true household in your heart. 
As you live day after day within the heart of this enchanting bookshop, you will experience London at its finest. The city of Literature is right there from St Pancras to Middle Temple Gardens, from Marylebone to the Tower of London and the Leadenhall Market. It has captivated your heart and will not let it go. 
In one of the most beautiful books you will ever read, Moonlight Books is there to make us dream and realise that books have the power to change us. Perhaps, only books can actually make a difference...An ode to courage, to London and its unique atmosphere, a hymn to TRUE Literature (and not the garbage advertised by the illiterate Karen, Sharon and Tracy of Instagram and TikTok)
Do yourselves a favour. Go and read some REAL Literature.
‘'-Most people aren't interesting. They are petty-minded.-Your dear Mr Livingsone began to think like that and look how he ended up.-How?-Living inside his books.-Then, he lives the best life.''
All extracts translated by yours truly, taken from the Greek edition translated by Kallia Tavoulari.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
 

‘'A path into the forest, from a long-forgotten place.Find the path and follow, its ribbon yours to trace.Past trees and hillocks wander, to a splendid castle old,In whose halls three ladies fine you shall at last behold.The prince they there await, if ever he should come.A song they sing to pass the time, a lonely, plaintive hum.''

Once in a while, there comes a book that takes you by surprise. An unassuming, low-key, seemingly ordinary novel which turns into an experience that makes you fully understand why you love reading so much. That gives a whole new meaning to Literary Fiction. That has you thinking for days after the last page is turnt. The feelings that ‘'Love'' caused in me surprised me. What didn't surprise me was the fact that this novel comes from one of the most haunting places God has created. Norway, the land of the Midnight Sun. But in our story, the sun is nowhere to be found...

Vibeke and Jon have recently moved to a new town, in Norway. The story unfolds over a single wintry night when Vibeke and Jon follow their own separate ways, each for their own reasons. Through this peculiar evening, Vibeke will have to face the results of her questionable behaviour and Jon will come across his own fears and isolation.

The two characters consist the driving force of the story. Vibeke is a bookworm, a woman who wants to succeed in her career, to look beautiful, to fall in love and have some time to herself. She is a modern mother, but more often than not, she comes across as vain, almost narcissistic, cold and clueless and not quite the kind of mother that a nine year old child needs. Jon is a boy with a tender heart and an almost terrifying imagination, not unlike his mother. The two share the most unbreakable bond God has created, the one between a mother and her child. However, the relationship depicted in this novel is troubled and troubling. Vibeke and Jon trust strangers too easily and their minds create images, expectations and assumptions that have little or no connection to reality. The two other characters are Tom, a young man working in a funfair, and an unnamed driver whom Jon meets on his way home.

Ørstavik's writing is impeccable, perfect, as haunting as the beauty of her homeland. There are beautiful scenes from the daily life of the two characters. You can feel the warmth of their home, smell the cooked food, see the cozy corners. You can see the dimly lit streets of the neighbourhood, hear the crunching snow, smell the freezing wind and wander in the centre of the town, visit the library and the funfair. The writer's ability to paint pictures with words and communicate so many themes through minimal dialogue is outstanding. The eerie feeling, the sense of impending doom that permeates the novel doesn't allow you to look away and I am happy to see that the translator did a marvelous job in transfering images and feelings to perfection.The end is striking. As I'm writing, I try to process it and I can't. It will leave you speechless, the way a well-written novella has to do.

This is an appropriate read for a cold winter's night, ideally in Norway. Or Denmark, or Sweden and Finland. But if this isn't possible, any place becomes ideal when there is a beautiful book to keep us company. And this is one of the most beautiful books I've read this year. Yes, it is dark, sad, it cuts like a knife and freezes the blood, and yet, in all this darkness, there is a kind of pure beauty. I'm not a mother, but I work with children and books like this one makes you want to hold them close and shut out the darkness of the world.

Many thanks to Archipelago Books and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Well, don't. You're a foreigner. You have to understand it's not our business. We don't interfere. It's the Japanese way.''

Thirteen exquisite stories written by an American woman who married into a Japanese family, and moved in the Land of the Rising Sun. Stories of love, family, marriage, motherhood, duty, heritage. Stories of silence and secrecy. Stories of convictions and an all-powerful desire to hide everything under the carpet. Stories of people for whom the phrase ‘'if we don't speak about it, it doesn't exist'' gas become a daily adoration.

‘'And, of course, lots of them were looking at their phones. The universal pose of modern man. If we don't watch out, our spines will curve back into a Neanderthal shape, and our evolution will start going backwards.''

Well, we are worse than that, actually. It is derogatory for the Neanderthal man to be compared to our sorrowful, pathetic contemporary existence when education and respect have been substituted by selfies, sexual obsession and ignorance.

The Rescuer: A kind spirit has the responsibility of rescuing idiots (I mean, careless passengers...) who are glued on their phones in a station in Tokyo.

‘'And now you've deserted me. You've gone to the Pure Land and I'm left in Hell.''

Genbei's Curse: A young woman is left to care for her tyrannical father0in-law. But life works in mysterious ways and, ultimately, in circles...

‘'The day of the trial by fire dawned bright and crisp. A fine white ground most was already dissipating in the mild warmth of the rising sun. The tall cypresses looked down on the shore, absolutely motionless, their dark depths pierced with slanting sunbeams.''

Trial By Fire: The incredible, true story of the dispute between two villages that had to be decided through a trial by fire.

‘'How could anyone just say no when asked to do something? Especially a woman? She tried to remember if she had ever done such a thing.''

Love and Duty: An American teacher tries to explain the different meaning of Valentine's Day to a Japanese coworker. But this isn't actually about opposing cultural perceptions. It's about a culture that dictates women to be silent, complacent and obedient.

‘'Ah! There was the shrine, the cedars still standing tall, clumps of snow sticking to their dull green sides. And here was the corner of the shopping street. But there was no steam rising from the metal chimneys.''

The Turtle Stone: The story of a traditional sweet shop and its unique decoration through the eyes of its owner.

>Rhododendron Valley‘'My children! You have taken away my children! Where are they?''Uncle Trash: An elderly resident has filled his house with old paper, clothes and various objects, taking hoarding to a whole new level. When his family decides to put an end to this without even asking him, all Hell breaks loose. A brilliant story about the ignorance with which we treat elderly people and a shocking ending.Watch Again: A young woman meets her estranged husband in the metro. A husband that wanted children because his father demanded it. A husband who wanted his ‘'food'' cooked by his wife, a husband who resented her success, a husband who wanted a slave, not a companion. Can there really be a second chance when a woman has to put up with this attitude? Can he actually change? My answer is a huge, written in neon: NO!Showa Girl: The writer narrates the childhood and adolescence of her mother-in-law. A story of quiet beauty.‘'These people were going to squeeze her between them till there was nothing left.''A Year Of Coffee and Cake: Two women, an American and a Japanese, bond over cakes and family troubles. Amanda is asphyxiating in her marriage, and her neighbour provides a pleasant destruction. But is she actually what she seems? This story will shock you to the very end. Three Village Trees: A teacher contemplates on the changes of her students. A young man who was abused by his father exacts his revenge. A worker seeks recognition. Three village tales of a frustrating reality.‘'I'm trudging over beige winter grass under a tumultuous sky. Wool from my hat tickles my eyebrows, and from my scarf is damp and cold on my cheek. Wind pushes at my back. Cold arms, cold legs, eyes tearing up, nose running. I prospect in my pocket for the wad of tissues I always carry on winter walks. A mountain dusted with snow looms in the distance across the rice fields.''Rachel and Leah: A foreign woman married to a Japanese family contemplates on her husband's expectation, her own wishes and constant compromises, illness and honesty.The Mad Kyoto Show Swapper: The tender story of a young man with the habit of swapping shows, and a deep love for Casablanca, set in the uniquely beautiful city of Kyoto.Stories inspired by anecdotes, Ottawa's husband's family myths, personal experiences, actual occurrences, observations and incidents that have been taken place in urban areas, compose a collection that is both sensitive and raw, and an eloquent depiction of the cultural gap that sometimes we are unable to bridge.‘'She doesn't know me. Even my son doesn't know me. They all think they know me, they think they have pinned me down, just another slightly troublesome older woman. They think it's all right to stop thinking about me.''My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

''I left the house and turned to the alley. No shops insight. This was a strange corner of the city, a row of uninhabited houses. Shutters closed, a rusty bike lying next to a shut door. The entire neighborhood looked like a ghost town. The steel tower rising looked fake, like a missing piece of a poorly-made backdrop in an impoverished theatre.''

A young woman flees from an apartment in Tokyo, carrying a baby girl, a child that isn't hers. Is she trying to save the child? And if she is, what is the danger? What makes her accept the dubious help of a madwoman? What drives her into the arms of a suspicious pseudo-religious cult? How can she create a home for her and the girl on a remote island? How can she escape from those who are after her?

This is the story of a woman who was weak and foolish enough to destroy her life because of a man. And yet, it was impossible for me not to sympathize with her. Kakuta has created a character that sees the wrong in her actions but is unable to withdraw because of a strange and powerful mixture of love and revenge.

Her quest is a troubled journey across Japan, its traditions, its values, its cities, and sleepy villages. In beautiful prose, Kakuta takes us into the world of neighborhoods that need to follow a controversial dogma of modernization in contrast to the island communities where the residents are there to support one another. Myths of deities, ghosts and demons, beautiful festivals and fables create an extraordinary setting in a story where motherhood takes the spotlight. Kakuta stresses two important questions regarding the theme of motherhood. Is every woman capable of being a true mother to a child and do we have the right to project our own mistakes to our children? In the end, it is certain that they will pay the prize.

The construction of the novel and the prose were satisfying. Even though the main theme isn't one I am interested in, my love for Japanese Literature prompted me to read it. But for the last 100 pages, I'd say I was satisfied. Unfortunately, the last chapters managed to disappoint me. First of all, the chapters that were based on the girl's point of view were boring. Why? Because choosing to have your two main characters committing the same mistakes in an attempt to show that life moves in inevitable circles is the epitome of lazy writing. Certain parts of the plot didn't make sense and the questions were answered in an extremely neat way. Too convenient, too organized, too unrealistic. The contrast was so intense that I found myself turning the last pages too fast...

Melodrama isn't my cup of tea. It doesn't appeal to me in the slightest. I am not a sentimental person and I consider the women who sacrifice their choices and their life for the sake of a man to be devoid of personality and ideals. The moment a novel takes a turn into the soap-opera territory, I'm out. This one takes 3 stars for the beautiful writing and an interesting main character. Unfortunately, the last 20% of the novel was so bad that in the end I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Extract translated by me, taken from the Greek edition translated by Irene Papakyriakou.
My reviews can also be found https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

‘'Below her, streets and lanes, factories and workhouses, parks and prisons, ground houses and tenements, roofs, chimneys and treetops. And the winding, sometimes shining, Thames- the sky's own dirty mirror. The raven leaves the river behind and charts a path to a chapel on a hill with a spire and a clock tower. She circles the chapel and lands on the roof with a shuffling of wings. She pecks at brickwork, at lichen, at moth casts, at nothing. She sidles up to a gargoyle and runs her beak affectionately around his eyes, nudging, scooping.''

Bridie Devine is a young Irishwoman, not the flinching kind, who works as a detective, aided by her faithful housekeeper, Cora, and offering an often exasperating help to Inspector Rose. Brightest than the blazing flame, determined and dedicated, she is called to investigate the disappearance of Christabel. A child that has the power to enter your conscience just by looking at you with eyes that change colours. Bridie enters a world of illegal medical research, anatomists, and legends and faces the darkest aspects of her childhood, aided by a mysterious rugged man with a top hat who happens to be...dead.

What follows is my personal blabbering, full of adoration for London, Gothic atmosphere, mermaids and the intention to build a bookcase shrine to properly worship Jess Kidd's extraordinary talent. Ye have been warned...

‘'The woman is made of boot polish and pipe smoke, clean cloth and the north wind. And as for the dead man walking behind her, well, he means no harm.''

London is the central character. It comes alive through the pages. I don't know, Jess Kidd has a supernatural gift. I don't know how else to explain her ability to hypnotize the reader. She has created an elaborate time machine to transport us to London during the 1860s. We walk and see and smell and listen. It couldn't be more ‘'real'' than that. The multicultural neighborhoods of the capital, the dreadful orphanages vividly described by Dickens, Trollope, and Thackeray, the ever-present threat of cholera, the mysterious nights, the penny dreadfuls' scenery. And most importantly, Old Father Thames stands witness to a city that retains so many secrets, so many horrors, and so much beauty. The marvelous way in which Kidd leads the readers in the streets and alleys of the city reminded me of Michel Faber's masterpiece The Crimson Petal and the White.

I mean, read these paragraphs...

‘'The metropolis isn't sleeping, not really. For every Londoner in bed there are ten awake and up to no good - on the fly, on the loose, on the tiles! The moon knows; she sees all. Tonight, she's our guide, for it's late and every self-respecting raven will be perched in her own black-feathered embrace. Let the corvid sleep! The moon sees the beauty and cruelty of London: her whores and drunks, saints and murderers, thieves and lovers and fighters. The moon sees every black alley and yard, scrubland and marsh.''

‘'Coming up from beneath London's streets, another new sound: a tumultuous rushing. The ancient rivers of London, newly awaken and gathering force, now erupt. Flooding lane and street, drowning basement- dwelling families and overwhelming cesspits. Then there is the rain. Great drops of the stuff, a constant patter on every window and shutter, tin can and bucket. And the Thames keeps rising.''

And then, the Gothic elements are used to perfection. There are traces of witchcraft and potential hauntings. Strange things in jars, the circus world with its peculiars. Anatomists struggling to learn and to deceive. Stories of mermaids from Ireland, Holland, and France. The presence of the merrow, the evil mermaid, a figure we don't often witness in Literature. Pigeons and seagulls form common imagery throughout the novel, creating a sense of unrest and eerie commotion. There is a tale within the tale and the effect is astonishing, it will give you nightmares. There's even a reference to Herne the Hunter, a legendary British Folklore figure.

And the characters? Nevermind the perfect prose, the beautiful dialogue, the astonishing imagery. Bridie...Jesus Christ, I could highlight every sentence she utters, she is my new spirit animal. From beloved Wicklow. Sassy and ferocious, with an acute sense of irony, indifferent to all norms and rules. How can I not adore her? Cora, loyal, fierce, honest and sensitive. And Ruby...Ruby stands equal to Himself's Mahony in terms of charm level, all handsome and valiant and electrifying. Bridie and Ruby are one of the best, most unique, most perfect (I could go on forever...) couples you'll ever encounter in a novel.

Is this the best Jess Kidd novel yet? I think so. I adore all three but this one truly captured my heart, put it in a chest and hid the key. In a jar. When perfect writing, outstanding atmosphere, and sheer literary Art come together, the result is a masterpiece like Things In Jars.

Also, Jess Kidd, why are you so perfect?

‘'Bridie walks between the headstones, the crosses, the covered urns, the plump marble pillows inviting everlasting slumber. [...] Stone angels perch on all four corners of her tomb: wings folded and faces impassive, they are giving nothing away.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

  ‘'In her coat, standing at the counter, Tove wrote: ‘'I've gone out.'' She then crumpled the note in her hand and wrote instead: ‘'Since you clearly weren't interested in herring - ‘' Here she ran out of worlds for a moment, before adding simply: ‘'I am not your fucking husband.''
These are haunting stories of women trying to stand up to the demands of Fate, and the complex relationships that shape their lives. Whether you are a girlfriend, a wife, a mother, whether you are patient or erratic, you need to convince yourself that you will get through this.
But sometimes, it is just impossible to forgive or forget...
Danish Literature keeps giving us gems that demand our full attention.Exquisitely translated by Martin Aitken. 
An Excursion: An accidental meeting leads to exalted expectations and marriage but more often than not, we do not understand our mistakes until it is too late...A story with a sensitive heroine and a beautiful sense of place within a small community. And a prick of a husband...
‘'Christmas decorations were festooned from the ceiling. It was she who had hung them up. She picked away the withered leaves from among the poinsettia plants they called Christmas Stars and was about to put the polystyrene bats in place in the new refrigerated counter they were all so proud of when she discovered blood had run from the meat and pooled in the bottom of the display.''
December is a Cruel Month: Two families face their own Hell following a tragic death and an accident, and two daughters are left to face the world without their mother. A story that will make you shiver as you try to connect the pieces of a cruel puzzle. Extremely powerful and so, so sad.
An Argument: A wife and a husband have distanced themselves from each other, burdened by the absence of their son. Where there was love, there is irritating politeness at best...On a side note, what is it about Danish literature and the bleakest portrayal of marriage? I'm sure I'm jumping to awful, unfair conclusions but marriage seems to be a tricky business in Denmark...I hope the Danes are better husbands than Danish Literature makes them to be...
Sorry.
A Postcard for Annie: Set in Aarhus in 1983 and 2002, this is a melancholic trip in the repercussions of a dark day and a terrible accident as Mie shares her memories of friendship, love and loss.
‘'The lighting candles cast reflections in the pitifully thin window panes that allow in a sleeping draught. Outside, the bins and bicycles are hidden by darkness. Across the courtyard, the elevator line ascends through the shaft.''
Mother and Son: If I had such a horrible son, I would go straight to the police and ask them to lock him up. Away from me, and away from society. And I'd spend every minute of every day trying to understand my own mistakes...
In My Hometown: The moving story of an enigmatic couple that used to own a book shop and the memories of a neighbourhood...
‘'Carefully, Marianne put down the star she was holding and went to the window. From where she stood, she could see a line of four lampposts along the street; she could see the road, the sidewalk, the long hedges in front of their houses. The empty air danced in the artificial light. Or was it raining? Marianne pressed her mouth to the pane. If she waited for her at the window, her mother would appear as she always did, emerging out of the darkness into the pool of light from the lamppost furthest away.''
Many thanks to Archipelago Books and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/





 

''I found the dead woman at the edge of my woods on the last day of January. King month. Thirty-one spikes on a crown of icicles.''

A young woman lives in Alaska. Alone, her sole company a dog named Rembrandt. Henna tries to build her life in a wildly beautiful, inhospitable landscape and escape the shadow of a family long gone. But the winter hides its own secrets, Henna finds herself faced with a macabre discovery and a woman from the past invades her world in a haunting story that demonstrates how the past and the present are tightly linked, how our lives are interconnected even when we least expect it.

''That night, at dinner, the village children reported there were ghosts in the library tower.''

The story is told from Henna's POV and we are given only brief glimpses in the life of a woman of the 19th century whose presence permeates the novel. Although I enjoy the technique of the dual time narrative, it has become a trope commercialized and cheapened in the hands of weak writers. Here, Tina May Hall decided to focus on Henna, resulting in a strongly developed plot centered around a well-written, realistic heroine. The prose vividly depicts the symbolism of the wintry landscape. The quiet, the purity of a world covered in snow, the evil that lurks underneath. The small community and the fact that everyone knows everyone create a claustrophobic feeling and there are folklore and bookish references that had me trying to decipher whether there was something more, something that would prove crucial to the conclusion of the story.

There are moments of serene beauty in this winter's tale and many extracts that lent a gothic aura to what I felt was a very realistic search for events long forgotten. There is a mysterious estate, strange bird cries, a rather suspicious housekeeper and a formidable matriarch. And the cold, the snow, the confusing thoughts, the awful feeling of being alone, not knowing whom to trust, not knowing what it is you are searching for. The dialogue is limited and the psychological repercussions of past loses become more evident as we plunge deeper into Henna's mind. This results in the creation of a rather dark atmosphere that is refined and vague like a strange dream that frightens us.

This novel is a beautiful combination of Literary Thriller and a contemporary story of being able to overcome shadows, to trust others, to recognize the ties of the past and answer its questions. Perfect for a cold winter's night...

''Nine planes flew overhead in the dark sky, packed with skin and bones. Nine whales spun in the thick sea. Nine semi-trucks slept on the highway to the west. Nine houses glowed in a gold line down the hill. Nine turtle shells were buried in Mariel's yard. Nine conches served as their gravestones. Nine wishes buzzed around my head.''

Many thanks to Catherine Sinow, Dzanc Books and Tina May Hall for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

''They guarded against her own ghosts as well; whenever the atmosphere grew somber or anxious, first one cat and then the other would spontaneously tear through the room, ears cocked and eyes wild, claws skittering for purchase as they chased invisibles across the old wideboard floors.''

A young woman has left Philadelphia for a small community in the mystical Appalachian Mountains, trying to recover from a nightmarish sexual assault. An Art student, she has established a peaceful life in her quiet cottage, living in close proximity to nature and the little boy she babysits is her only friend. However, change comes swiftly on a late April day when Lorelei stumbles upon a bobcat and a strange hiker. The Appalachian Trail is full of surprises...

'‘[...] until all signs of civilization faded way and only wilderness remained.''

Katherine Forbes Riley has created a novel that communicates its message through the beauty and secrecy of the forest and the silence that carries our thoughts to our hearts. At least, this is how I felt while I was reading The Bobcat. It wasn't an easy experience from which the reader escapes unscathed. The budding lilacs, the soft sunlight, the mystical blue hour cannot prevent the trauma that returns again and again and Laurelie has to fight against a heartless mother, a rude landlady, creepy fellow students and above all, her own frightening demons. Wilderness is a cocoon that protects and isolates, leaving the darkness behind. Everything is better than the unpredictable, threatening presence of humans. Laurelie is the soul that knows healing comes through our powerful bond with Nature. After all, what is better than hiking and listening to the whispering trees?

'‘[...] the river's low burble and the forest's stillness [...]''

Laurelie reflects the nature that surrounds her. She may come across as quiet and timid but her resilience and strength to trust herself and the one who responds to her loneliness makes her a very memorable character. The restricted use of dialogue helps us understand her even better. As we experience the story through her eyes she becomes a friend whose almost aetherial presence is a welcoming company. As an artist, Laurelie views her world through images of Monet and Gauguin, Warhol and Rembrandt, Dali, Klimt and Cezanne. Riley's beautiful descriptions reflect the ingenuity of a great artist. I could feel I was there, in the forest, witnessing the changing light falling on the leaves, casting shadows through the branches of the trees.

A story of resilience and hope, a story about the relationship between Nature and the human being, a story of darkness and light. The Bobcat is an extraordinary debut by an extremely talented author.

''The fog light heightened contrasts, turning the trunks dark and the low growth bright, and the air between them almost blue. But though she remained there watching for a long time, nothing else moved.''

Many thanks to Skyhorse Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

‘'I had the hope I would be able to forget. I longed for the freedom of a heroine, a life of my own, a happy one. Back then I ridiculously faced down the world, sure I could defeat it and emerge unscathed.''

It is always a pleasure and an adventure to start a new short story collection. The genre is currently racing through a golden age, readership has become more demanding (at least the ones who don't spend hours reading trash...) and more open to material that challenges our perceptions. We have become more accustomed to techniques that stress literary boundaries and the mystery of the Short Story is fascinating by definition.

However, sometimes a short story collection is simple, straightforward, tranquil but equally poignant. The stories in Paulina Flores's collection are ripe with sadness and futile endeavours, the hope for change, the shadows of disappointment. There are no hidden meanings or cryptic messages but the greatest mystery of all; human relationships and their implications.

These are my favourite moments out of the 9 stories included in this collection:

Humiliation: A father tries to find a job, aided by his eldest daughter. However, nothing goes as planned. A very sad story of a family on the verge of breaking apart.

Teresa: An enigmatic woman meets a man and a strange little girl in a library. This story is the perfect combination of sinister and sensual.

‘'I burned all my bridges, he said, and I was left floating in the water, adrift.''

Forgetting Freddy: A woman starts writing in her diary to cope with a painful separation. Pills, hot baths, everything to overcome the pain. A sad, haunting story of a woman who can't leave the past behind and the dangers women have to fight against on a daily basis.

Aunt Nana: A young woman is trying to recover from the loss of the aunt who replaced an indifferent mother.

‘'We have forged great flaming wings.'' Inscription on the Monument To The Conquerors of Space, Moscow.

Laika: A tender story of a girl's fascination for the unexplained and unattainable. For the mystery of the universe, UFOs, legends and Laika, the most legendary of canines.

Last Vacation: A boy's summer spent in the company of his bohemian aunt. A story about the love of reading, about growing up without a father and the tortured past of Chile.

Up to this point, the collection was a solid, clear 5-star material. Unfortunately, Lucky Me, the novella of the collection, wasn't my cup of tea at all. Reading about Sailor Moon (which I loathed even as a child), stickers and various sexual troubles which I find utterly distasteful and disgusting is a literary nightmare for me. Fortunately, the rest of the collection was pure quality.

This is an excellent collection on womanhood, desire. About the need to belong, to overcome preconceived expectations and potential failures, told through relatable characters within the context and rich culture of Chile.

‘'Nights, I wake up and walk barefoot through the apartment I rent. Tonight, I go into the kitchen and look out the window to the south. Venus is shining above a building's antenna.''

Many thanks to Oneworld Publications and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

‘'Every wildfire, I feel safe and I don't feel safe. I care and I don't care and this is my California. From the concrete walk of the courtyard, I count the ants in twos as they rush across the tops of my shoes, two, four, six, dozens, hundreds, too many to possible all know where they're going. There's nothing out here for them, just sidewalk cracks, lifeless plants leaning against the walls, cheap patio furniture, my neighbour's ashtray, the low- hanging loneliness heavy in the air. I wonder what the ants know that I don't.''

Sheila's life is a minefield waiting to explode. Unable to keep a steady job, with minuscule social interaction, carrying the enormous burden of guilt over her relationship with her mother, haunted by the absence of her father. Until two deaths change everything. Two deaths, a shoebox full of letters dating back to the 50s, a kind neighbour and his twelve-year-old daughter.

‘'My mother always hated cooking onions, so the smell is not nostalgic for me. It's not a smell of home. It's a smell of somewhere else, something else, someone else. It's a smell of longing. It's a smell of lacking.''

Julia Dixon Evans writes about motherhood, fatherhood, and companionship. Yes, we want to be ‘'strong'' and ‘'independent'' and some of us believe that the fewer people the better (it works wonders for someone's sanity...) but absolute loneliness seldom solved any problems. This story is an ode to complex relationships, the bond between parents and children, the poisoned thistle of unreciprocated love which can easily become a living Hell. All the doubts and fears, the enormous what-if that torments us all. Living without an aim, a purpose, existing in real-life limbo. And at the heart of it all, the bond between a teenage girl and a grown-up woman who has to open a door on the wall she has been carefully building all these years.

Seen through the eyes of an honest, direct character, a woman that is absolutely, totally messed-up in the most enticing, tangible way, this is a story set in lazy days and salty nights, full of that special quiet before the storm.

‘'O God, make speed to save us. O God, make haste to help us.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

Holland, during the 17th century. Judith and Maria are two women who are struggling to find their footing in a society that closes all doors to the ones who don't fit in the religious images cultivated by an endless battle between different denominations. It closes all doors to women who are talented and brave enough to seek a better future, to make their talents one. Judith Leyster wants to be a painter, following the great tradition of her country. In order to do so, she needs to convince the men in the profession that she deserves to be taken seriously. She struggles to make them pay attention to her creations, not her petticoats. And Maria? Maria has to live in fear because of her faith. Her only solution is the search of a holy relic that will make her atone for whatever sins she has committed...

And this is one of the worst Historical Fiction novels I've ever read.

Excuse me, dear friends, but no. NO! How could one of the most important women in the History of Art be transformed into a walking snoozefest that behaves like a petulant schoolgirl is a dark mystery to me. I won't even waste my time and yours to talk about Maria because I skipped most of her chapters to avoid gauging my eyes out with a knife. Bayern was on TV and I wanted to watch the game, needing my sight to do so. Therefore, no Maria for me after the 40% mark, thank you. In my opinion, both women are one-dimensional characters, unoriginal, boring, bad copies of female main protagonists we have seen before in much better books.

It is so sad that a beautiful setting and an exciting era went to waste due to a lack of events, repetition and implausible twists that had no function whatsoever. I mean, dear writer, show! Don't tell. I don't need a thousand paragraphs describing Judith and Maria's thoughts and differences. Write an adequate dialogue and create events that have a meaning and an outcome. Don't give me a pseudo-psychological treaty. Now that I mentioned the haunted word ‘'dialogue'', I have to tell you that every interaction in this book sounded (to me, obviously) like an uninspired period piece seen on a second-rate TV channel. Examples follow. Proceed with caution, dearest friends:

‘'I'll be right back.'' (In Holland, in the year of Our Lord 1633. Yeah, dude, whatever...Seriously, I expected to come across the previous exclamation somewhere in the course of the ‘'story''.)

And more examples, all from the same chapter:
‘'Forgive me for interrupting you. You were painting?''
‘'Of course, that's wonderful. I mean, obviously you're painting, but it's wonderful work.''
‘'That's perfect. Wonderful. Thank you. I'll be back soon.''

Welcome to the Dutch version of a Nickelodeon Art School programme taking place in the 17th century.
I must be punished for some serious sins I committed in a past life...

I've had such high hopes for this one and they were crushed from the very first chapters. I am aware that many readers have loved this novel but personally, it made me fall asleep. In truth, what did I expect from a book that contained the phrases ‘'She clenched her jaw shut....'' and ‘'She sucked in a half breath...'' ?

P.S. How do you suck in a half breath? I genuinely want to know.

Many thanks to Amberjack Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

“Bridgetonne was not without other misfits: old maids who, in an earlier time, might have been mistaken for witches, and bachelors who, likewise, would have been called out as warlocks. But by no means was the village haunted.”

It seems that books set during the Great War or a few years later have become really fashionable recently. Not that I am complaining because this is a very interesting era but there are many examples of such novels that are more melodramatic than meaningful. Magical Realism is also a trending genre and one of my literary obsessions so “The Hawkman” ticked quite a few right boxes. And although it wasn't perfect, it was really, really good. And look at this beautiful cover....

The plot is inspired by a reading of the Grimm Brothers'fairy tale “The Bearskin” and by recorded experiences of POWs in German prison camps during the First World War. The action is set in a sleepy county and we follow Eva and Michael, two characters with many demons to defeat. It sounds simple enough but trust me (if you want, that is...) when I tell you that there is much to be discovered and much to think about in the course of the novel.

Jane Rosenberg LaFarge certainly has a way with words because the prose is beautiful, mystical and yet accessible. She chooses to start the story with a powerful, peculiar scene of a death on a wedding night, reminiscent of Victorian fables. What seems initially a mystery novel with elegant touches of Magical Realism (more felt than seen, though), quickly becomes a story about courage and acceptance, about society and the stupidity that rules over it. The writer decides to compose a story out of a number of themes and she succeeds, in my opinion. An interesting point is the conflict between the English and the Irish which causes major implications in Michael's life. His own compatriots prove to be worse than the German soldiers in a society that is eager to ostracize the ones who “fail” to meet its criteria of “acceptable” behaviour. So Michael is easily brandished as a “turncoat” and Eva becomes the “naive woman from the other side of the Atlantic”.

Through the snippets of Eva and Michael's lives with their families, we come to understand them as characters and care for them. Eva loves stories as a means to escape and Michael sacrifices his voice and identity to protect his life. But what kind of life can he lead under these circumstances? And then there is Christopher and his father, Lord Thornton, a horrible creature blinded by the stereotypes of the English upper class during the early 20th century. If you allow me a personal note here, I must confess I fully identified with Eva. She shows to everyone that there are limits to one's kindness, understanding, patience and respect. “Respect”. Such a violated word...She accepts different people, different opinions but to everything there is a limit. When the others offend her principles, when they refuse to respect her as an equal, she stops “respecting” and returns the favour. She is straightforward and avoids conflict but when she sees that they try to play her for a fool, she strikes. So, I saw myself in her. In my experience, when patient people witness the other's hypocrisy and double-faced words, they become ruthless and send the parasites out of their lives.

My one complaint is the length of the novel. I found it too short, I felt that the relationship between the characters wasn't fully developed and the implications of certain actions weren't explored to the end. The protagonists were excellent and I wanted to see more of them. Still, I'm not one to complain about “distant” narrations (...let us be serious....) so my final conclusion is that I enjoyed it, right until its beautiful, bittersweet end. I just wanted it to be more powerful and memorable hence the 4 stars.

Many thanks to Amberjack Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange of an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Hoo'll make up a song and sing me a tune?''‘'Owl serenade you by the light of the moon.''

Mama owl wakes her little one for a nightly flight in the forest. She shows him the beautiful souls that populate it, the animals that find the chance to throw a gorgeous feast without being threatened by the presence of men. Hedgehogs, foxes, rabbits, bears, bats, fireflies.

But the little one is frightened and uncertain. Who will be there to catch her if she falls? Who will fly with her if her friends are away? The mother owl shows that she will be close by, helping her young one, always watching, always protecting. And when she's not there, the young owl will be ready to fly into the beautiful world with certainty. She will be prepared to face the darkness and the flights, wise and confident like her mother.

A beautiful book about motherhood, confidence. About our ever-present guide and protector. Our mother, our source of comfort and love. A book about facing our fears as children and learning to spread our wings in the darkness of forests that are far more unwelcoming than the habitat in our story, Told in haunting rhyme by Matthew Heroux and in beautiful, vivid illustrations by Wednesday Kirwan. Another book for my younger classes!

‘'Hoo'll dance with me by the firefly light?''‘'Owl dance with you as we twirl through the night.''

Many thanks to Cameron + Company and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Imagine a midwinter night, an early sunset, a long drafty evening spent by candlelight. The season of Christmas coincides with the shortest days of the year and, for middle-class Victorians, a chance for families to reconnect in story-telling circles.''

The Tapestried Chamber by Sir Walter Scott: A veteran spends the night in an impressive tapestried chamber but a nightmarish visitor forces him to cope with the most powerful fear he has ever experienced.

The Old Nurse's Story by Elizabeth Gaskell: No Christmas Ghost Stories collection is complete without this classic story by our beloved writer. A dark tale of innocence lost in the Northumberland moors.

‘'I try to be patient, but my cross has been heavy and my heart is empty and weary, and I long for the death that comes so slowly to those who pray to die.''

Horror: A True Tale by John Berwick Harwood: A woman narrates the incident of utter terror that changed her life forever. A haunting story steeped in Scottish legends.

‘'The vast monotonous moor, the threatening sky and the fierce rushing blast had something for me sublime and invigorating.''

Bring Me A Light by Anonymous: Between sunset and moonrise, strange occurrences take place in an isolated manor in the moors. A young heir learns the story of his ill-fated ancestors. A marvellous tale, atmospheric and memorable.

‘'There is said to be a skeleton in some out-of-the way cupboard of every house.''

Old Hooker's Ghost by Anonymous: A strange story of hauntings that plage the offsprings of an old, noble family and an exciting masquerade celebrating Twelfth Night. Snapdragon always creates the proper atmosphere for a mystery.

The Ghost's Summons by Ada Buisson: A young doctor witnesses the death of a wealthy gentleman under mysterious, supernatural circumstances. However, the secrets of the deceased and his family are much more terrifying. A powerful tale of (very) mortal wickedness with a fantastic closure.

Jack Layford's Friend by Anonymous: This was horrible! Bad writing, boring plot, loathsome narrator. In my humble opinion, this story had no place in this collection.

How Peter Parley Laid a Ghost by Anonymous: Why did we need a story in which the narrator calls everyone either a fool or an idiot? Why did we need ten pages over the differences between Gothic and Norman architecture?

The Mysterious Visitor by Ellen Wood: A tale that makes use of the visitation of the dead as a deathly premonition. The utterly stupid wife spoiled the entire story for me...

The Haunted Rock by W.W.Fenn: Following three uber-stupid tales, we are finally treated to the moving story of a rock haunted by the ghost of a young woman who lost her beloved in the sea. A tale rich in unique Cornish atmosphere.

The Lady's Walk by Margaret Oliphant: A West-Highland tale dedicated to the hearth goddess that protects the ancient families of the lochs. Outstanding descriptions of the Highland nature, beautiful tale.

The Captain of the Pole-Star by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: A story of strange visions set in the Arctic Cirle? Dare I say that this one was a bit boring?

The Doll's Ghost by F.Marion Crawford: A moving, dark tale of the bond between a girl and a doll, seen through the eyes of a troubled dollmaker.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

‘'Once something is in the forest's clutches, it doesn't easily let go...''

After the highly enjoyable experience with The Ghost, the Owl my current mood for interesting Gothic comic books brought me to The Lost Path.While not as poignant and thoughtful as The Ghost, the Owl , The Lost Path was very interesting and rich in beautiful illustrations.

The story starts with a mysterious curse that falls on a young couple who chose to live in a strange forest. The young woman feels that something is amiss but her husband can't see a thing in front of his nose and this leads to a spiral of events. In our times, the children that decide to venture into this mystical habitat find themselves in an adventure beyond their wildest dreams.

The Lost Path is like a fairytale. Actually, ‘'like'' isn't correct. It IS a modern fairytale inspired by traditional narratives and fables. Every country has an extensive collection of forest myths, with lost children, mystical creatures and forces in disarray, from The Little Red Riding Hood to the haunting Russian tales. This story by Amélie Fléchais is rich in beautiful imagery, the illustrations being the major force of the comic. I loved the wide variety of the techniques, the change of colours and style. I think they're a beautiful mixture of realistic drawings and Gothic colours, enriched with a Chinese influence evident in the depictions of the faces. The dialogue is very entertaining and I think that this is a comic book appropriate for younger audiences regarding the subject matter and the illustrations.

Following the recommendation of my dear friend Marina (please visit her beautiful, magical blog here: https://booksofmagic.wordpress.com/) my next stop will be Anya's Ghost by Vera Brosgol.

Many thanks to Lion Forge, NetGalley and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange of an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

‘'Teacher, I want to fly, but the ground keeps pulling me down.''

Korean Literature is rapidly flourishing thanks to a plethora of wonderful women whose work is finally presented to us through excellent translations. They are unique in connecting the daily reality to a hazy world that lies beneath the surface, resulting in an almost hallucinatory marriage that presents all the right challenges for the readers. Flowers of Mold captivates with its title and binds us to an array of stories that will hypnotize and confuse us in the finest manner possible. For what is a perfect read if not challenging?

Through daily situations, the working environment, the family, the educational process, characters of all ages, women and men discover that darkness is lurking. We, the readers, are faced with an almost overwhelming uncertainty developed within the heavy atmosphere of the ten stories. What could go wrong with a girl who wants to fly, a salesman who falls in love, a new neighbour who is as kind as can be? What could be of interest in the lives of ordinary people with ordinary jobs in ordinary situations?

In the ten stories that unite the surreal with the unsettling, the ordinary with the shock, the answer to these questions is one: everything!

Waxen Wings: A girl desires to fly and tries just about everything. Gymnastics, hang gliding, her life is full of orders and personal struggle. An extremely powerful story of the strength of the human spirit and the misfortunes that define our lives.

Nightmare: A young woman is put into grave danger by the filthy so-called ‘'workers'' hired by her father. Plagued by nightmares that veer between reality and hallucinations, she decides to take matters into her own hands and face the beasts.

The Retreat: A story of family obligations, ageing and drinking.

‘'According to him, my head's stuck in the clouds. That's why I'm always floating around in space, never touching solid ground.''

The Woman Next Door: One more heinous husband who looks down on his wife. A ‘'man'' who believes that any unmarried woman over twenty is a whore. One more woman who desperately needs to escape the mundane reality of a psychologically abusive marriage. I've said it before, I'll say it again. I'd rather die than find myself married in Korea or Japan or any other country in South-East Asia, excuse me.

‘'The power went out late last night, at ten past midnight. While people were still sleeping, the electrical appliances stopped working. The children who woke were cranky; they missed the hum of the refrigerator and the whir of the fan, sounds as comforting to them as a lullaby. Housewives who opened the refrigerator to prepare breakfast found blood dripping from the frozen pork they'd left to thaw, the meat turned a dark red.''

Flag: The strange findings on an electric pole lead back to a young man's dreams and disappointments.

Flowers of Mold: Is it possible to find beauty in the dirt? Is it possible for flowers to grow from rubbish?

Early Beans: This story of the fuss and mess between a man and a woman made absolutely no sense to me. I failed to see how this connected to the rest of the collection, it seemed the product of a different writer.

Onion: Possibly the darkest, strangest and most fascinating story in the collection. A tale where a woman who works in a daycare centre and a man who owns a restaurant try to make sense of the lot life threw in their way. Brilliant, mind-bending, disturbing.

‘'Not just anyone can become a magician's assistant. It only works between a father and daughter, brother and sister, or husband and wife. Or lovers.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

I adored Untolf Day and Night.

But this one...My God, it was atrocious. A German in one of the - horrible- stories complains that a relative of his was murdered when the war ended by one of ‘those inmates who had been liberated from a concentration camp. They had come to rob him.'

Well, you idiot of a writer, my grandfather was someone who fought during the war, killed a fair share of Nazis who had slaughtered Jews and gentiles alike, and he wasn't liberated. He escaped, killing one or two Nazis in the process. And he sure did well and is in Heaven for that. Where are your ancestors, writer, I wonder...

I will never read another book by a writer who is so blinded by admiration for the (excellent, no doubt about that) German writers that she practically turned into a Nazi sympathiser. And I stand by my opinion no matter what. There are certain sentences that NO literary license can ever forgive.

  ‘' “But me,” was all that she said, and rubbed a dear space in the condensation on the glass as she tried to recompose in her head the dissonant notes that rose at intervals from the huddle of young carol singers in the darkness below.''
Shopping for Christmas Dinner - Anne Enright: The marathon (and torture) of Christmas shopping in the supermarket, depicted with elegant irony and tenderness.
Frank Forrest's Mince Pie - Canon Patrick Augustine Sheehan: A tender tale of kindness and Christmas dreams.
Whimsical Beasts -  Aisling Maguire: A whimsical, tragic, incredibly beautiful story of a Pygmalion gone twisted and a young woman who wanted a child. A sensual, artistic modern fable.
The Christmas Cuckoo - Frances Browne: A story that has all the quintessential elements of an Irish folk tale. Cobblers, princesses, kings and golden leaves.
Christmas Pudding - Colm Toibin: A humorous story of Christmas pudding and family gatherings.
The Magi - W.B.Yeats: What would the Magi have thought if they had witnessed the horror that took place in Cavalry?
Candle and Crib - K.F.Purdon: Errr...This was not my cup of tea. Tasteless, vulgar and quite ridiculous.
The Troubles at Christmas (From Cal) - Bernard MacLaverty: A haunting extract from his excellent novel, Cal, one of the finest depictions of the Troubles.
Men and Women - Claire Keegan: I am sorry but Keegan's writing doesn't suit my reading tastes. Frankly? I find it atrocious.
‘'You never played games'', he said, ‘'or believed in fairies, or anything. I'd have played any game your way; I'd have been good at them.''
The Tommy Cranes -  Elizabeth Bowen: A moving tale of young love, misfortune and obligations.
‘'You always looked back, she thought. You looked back at other years, other Christmas cars arriving, the children younger.''
Another Christmas - William Trevor: A bitter tale set during the time of the Troubles about the wounds of the terrible fight which even Christmas cannot heal.
Christmas Eve - Máire Mhac an tSaoi: A beautiful poem about the night when Christ was born.
The Dead - James Joyce: Taken from The Dubliners, this is one of the most well-known storied by Joyce. Gabriel, a teacher and book reviewer, finds himself facing questions of Life and Death, of memories and what it means to ‘'serve the Irish cause.''
‘'Frost continued to fall that night in greater profusion than it had before, and a greenish vapour pervaded every quarter of the city, merging with the scant light that showed through shutters and hallways. No traffic broke the quiet but, lining the streets, on doorsteps and on windowsills, stood a myriad of minute golden creatures, each one astir with the playful flicker of new life.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
 

‘'A frosty day. From the window, one can see the fluffy white snow covering the streets, the roofs of homes, and the trees. An early twilight. The sky is turning blue.''
 Lida and I are standing by the window, looking at the sky,
‘'Nanny, is the star coming soon?'', I asked.

The New Year's Tree (Mikhail Zoshchenko): The authorities in the Soviet Union were so ridiculous that forbade Christmas but allowed the New Year's Tree. Because regimes are stupid. In this satirical story, a boy creates havoc, supported by his mother who has had enough of annoying guests.

The Boys (Anton Chekhov): Boys and Christmas shenanigans in a quintessential Chekhov story.

A Christmas Tree and a Wedding (Fyodor Dostoevsky): A story with all the trademarks elements of the finest novelist in History. A tale that starts as a social observation, becomes almost sinister when we understand that the fate of the young heroine is inevitable. Dostoevsky's elegant satire highlights the injustice of it all.

At Christmastide (Anton Chekhov): A cruel man isolates his wife from her illiterate parents. But Christmas is a time to right the wrongs...

Dream of the Young Tsar (Leo Tolstoy): A young man who is about to rule Russia dreams of the evil that plagues the land.

Makar's Dream (Vladimir Korolenko): A Yakut peasant shares his view and vision on the injustice and hardships of this world.

A Woman's Kingdom (Anton Chekhov): A young woman inherits a significant fortune. But what about family? What about love? Chekhov creates one of his most striking heroines in this classic story.

A Distant Christmas Eve (Klaudia Lukashevich): A little girl is anxious over Christmas Eve, a night of stars and enchanting trees that shed light in the darkness of poverty.

The Little Boy at Christ's Christmas Tree (Fyodor Dostoevsky): A classic story that reminds us of Andersen's The Little Match Girl.

Christmas Phantoms (Maxim Gorky): Sometimes, writers are awfully cruel to their characters...

A Lifeless Animal (Teffi): A toy sheep becomes a source of comfort for a young girl that goes largely unnoticed by her ridiculous parents.

My Last Christmas (Mikhail Zoshchenko): A strange story of an even stranger old passenger...

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

This collection of essays edited by James Lowder is one of the best books about the Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R.Martin. Each contributor touches upon themes that are vital in the wonderfully twisted universe that Martin has created.

''The Palace of Love, the Palace of Sorrow''by Linda Antonsson and Elio M.Garcia. I don't particularly like this duo as personalities, but their essay touches upon the movement of Romanticism, the way it influenced Martin's writing and draws a very interesting comparison between the classical Byronic hero and Jaime Lannister. It is easily the best essay in the collection.

''Men and Monsters''by Alyssa Rosenberg. The essay deals with Martin's way of using monstrous actions like murder, rape, betrayal, to advance the narrative and expose the vices of his world and ours. Rosenberg provides a lot of interesting answers to these who claim that Martin is cruel to his female characters. Each season since 2011, the time when the TV series hit our screens, there are critics who cry ''Horror'' each time a sex scene appears, when a woman is mistreated, accussing Martin or the screenwriters as misogynists. Frankly, how can these critics become more and more ludicrous year after year is beyond me. Read a Medieval history book, I say to them. The era upon which the series is based, had nothing to do with the Idylls of Knighthood.

''Same Song in a Different Key''by Daniel Abraham deals with the grapjic novel based on the series.

''An Unreliable Worldby Adam Whitehead talks about the way certain key events are altered each time a different character narrates or remembers them. The most crucial example is the relationship between Rheagar and Lyanna.

''Back to the Eggby Gary Westfahl deals with the Dunk and Egg stories.

''Art Imitates Warby Myke Cole. One of the most interesting essays of the collection, touching upon the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in the series. Theon and Arya take centre stage here.

''The Brutal Cost of Redemption in Westeros''by Susan Vaught. Which character does the word ‘‘redemption'' bring to mind? If you don't answer ‘‘Jaime''', you haven't been paying attention. In addition, Susan Vaught makes some very interesting remarks on the Stark family in all their ‘‘righteousness'' and how their unwise choices bring about disaster, especially in the case of Catelyn Stark.

''Of Direwolves and Gods''by Andrew Zimmerman Jones. The presence -or lack of it- of the many different gods in Westeros and beyond and the significance (?) of the direwolves.

''A Sword Without A Hilt''by Jesse Scoble. The function of witchcraft in the events that seal the War of the Five Kings.

''Petyr Baelish and the Mask of Sanity''by Matt Stuggs. Yes, this one...Littlefinger...The man we all love to hate. Probably the only character with a few scraps of brain in his head.

''A Different Kind of Other''by Brent Hartinger. One of the elements that prove how much of a genius Martin is comes with the fact that he created characters who represent types of people cast out by society (even by today's norms) and brought them to the spotlight.

''Power and Feminism in Westeros''by Caroline Spector. I didn't feel comfortable with this essay. I never feel comfortable with the views that constantly belittle Sansa as docile and cowardish, ignoring the codex of the era, glorifying Brienne and Arya just because they adopt a male attire. Or with the view that dismisses Daenerys'love for Drogo as ‘‘absurd'', a simple Stockhom syndrome affair. Needless to say, the essayist didn't convince me at all.

''Collecting Ice and Fire in the Age of Nook and Kindle by John Jos. Miller. > Interesting to see how the TV adaptation brought the popularity of the book in sky-high levels.

''Beyond the Ghettoby Ned Vizzini. How George R.R.Martin transcends the boundaries of genres with his creation.

A great choice for those who love the series. At the time of publication, the five books of A Song of Ice and Fire and the first season of A Game of Thrones had come out. Now, if we could magically have the sixth book, ''The Winds of Winter, it would make for a very good 2017...

“There is no hypocrisy so great as the words which we say to ourselves, “I wish to know the worst!” At heart we do not wish it at all. We have a dreadful fear of knowing it. Agony is mingled with a dim effort not to see the end. We do not own it to ourselves, but we would draw back if we dared; and when we have advanced, we reproach ourselves for having done so.”

”If a colour could deliver hope, does it follow that it could also bring despair?”

Blue, blå, blauw, bleu, blau, κυανό, azzurro, azul, sinij, modra, blár..... a colour that carries powerful imagery, thoughts and memories...

Maggie Nelson is a writer I've always wanted to know more about and a beautiful review by my good friend Hannah convinced me that the time had finally come. It was a deeply poignant, haunting, almost transcendental reading experience.

In this book, we have the writer's musings on the colour blue and its various aspects. It is interesting that our societies associate blue with masculinity, imposing it on the infants (even in our progressive era) and with life. The majority of the flags of our countries contain a shade of blue. It is everywhere, the sky, the sea...A significant percentage- myself included- considers blue eyes as being the most attractive. They can be mesmerizing but they can also appear cold, soulless, threatening. Baby blue and indigo blue are utter opposites. The more I come to think of it, the more I believe that no other colour has so many facades and identities. Here, Nelson associates blue with love, loss, suffering and despair.

”And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally incapable of loving you back?”

These are heartfelt confessions on a deep, dark abyss of a love that has been betrayed, a hope that is lost. Blue accompanies loneliness and, at times, a feeling of surrendering fully to the pain that comes when you are unable to anything to prevent disaster. I admit that I was touched by the despair that permeated the short entries of this book and the deep sadness. It almost made me feel uncomfortable as if I were an unknown by-stander watching the moment of utter emotional collapse. However, don't be discouraged. The writing is so rich and evocative. It is raw and powerful, giving voice to feelings that we have all experienced at least once in our lives. There is a distinctive aura of sensuality in the language and the theme of sexuality and its implications is central and communicated in a very realistic manner.

There are very interesting entries with true gems of information. To give you a tiny example, I was particularly fascinated by the habit of the bowerbird that clutters his domain with blue objects to attract the attention of the female. There are references to cultural icons from Thoreau, to Emerson, Goethe and Stein, to Leonard Cohen and Billie Holiday. There are parallels and narratives related to History, Mythology, stories of saints, sacred places and sinners...

This is a very special book, difficult to label. Is it a memoir? A re-imagined reality? A poetic confession? To me, it felt like poetry from a bleak place, heavy laden with the ache of an unfulfilled hope. I can't see how can anyone read Bluets and not be haunted by it...And if you find yourselves fascinated with Blue and the mysteries it hides, it is only natural...

”I have been trying for some time to find dignity in my loneliness. I have been finding this hard to do.”

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com